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2.10
PROPERTY OF
University of

1817
1817
A R T ES SCIENTIA VERITAS
WANDERING UIN
RECOLLECTIONS
OT
A SOMEWHAT BUSY LIFE.
In Autobiography.
Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek them not." - JER. xlv. 5.
BY JOHN NEAL.
BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1869.
828
N3410
A3
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by
ROBERTS BROTHERS,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts.
CAMBRIDGE:
PRESS OF JOIN WILSO, AND SON.
GL,
Relace
Stroest
10.21.55
95030
PREF A C E.
I Am called upon for a Preface. Like the “weary knife-
grinder," when asked for a story, I am half tempted to
answer, “ Preface! God bless you! I've none to give,
sir !”
My book itself is only a Preface. And what, after all, is
any Life but a preface ? — a preface to something better-or
worse ?
On the whole, therefore, I think it safer for me, and better
for the reader, whom I hope to be on good terms with, before
he gets through, whatever may be his present notions upon
the subject, not to trouble him with a Preface.
J. N.
PORTLAND, ME., May 10, 1869.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Getting under way; “Battle of Niagara”; John Pierpont; “Goldau ; " Their
First Appearance, .
CHAPTER II.
Parentage and Family ; Second-Sight and Apparitions; Origin of the Final E
in my Name; Tough Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Il
CHAPTER III.
Incidents of Childhood; Revelations of Character; Oratory; Declamation. ...
23
CHAPTER IV.
Glimmering Phantasmagoria; More Incidents of Childhood ; " Federal Repub-
lican" and Baltimore " Telegraph ; " Maiden Speech; Preparations for the
Bar; Private Theatricals; the Delphians; Dr. Tobias Watkins ...... 35
CHAPTER V.
Weatherwise ; Baltimore Debating Society; First Speech there; Defence of Quali-
fied Slavery; Woman's Rights; Law Argument on Magna Charta in London ;
Debates in Jeremy Bentham's Library : Mill, Grote, Roebuck, and others;
London Debating Society; Woman's Rights . . . . . . . . . . . .
48
CHAPTER VI.
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
Childish Fisticuffs ; Boyish ditto; Serious Controversies ; Disowned by the Quak-
ers, and why; Sparring over Sea; My Last Quarrels there and here, I hope.
65
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VII.
SPIRITUAL GROWTH.
Quaker Preaching; Universalism; A Troubled Conscience; Sprouting of Meta-
physics; Language; Free-agency ..............
88
CHAPTER VIII.
SELF-EDUCATION.
Absurdities of English Grammar; First Essays in Drawing and Painting; Mis-
cellaneous Reading; Mortification; French, Spanish, and other Languages;
Outline of Study ; Literary Labors; Sparring, Fencing, and Gymnastics.
104
CHAPTER IX.
BUSINESS OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE.
Peddling Small Wares; Manufacture of Lollipop; Smooth Shaving; Tricks of
Trade; Downright_Cheating; Counterfeit Money; Idling; Pistol-shoot-
ing; Penmanship; Indian-ink Miniatures ; Boston . . . . . . . . .
118
CHAPTER X.
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
Boston Shopkeeping; New Business Arrangements; John Pierpont; Our First
Acquaintance; Jobbing; New York; Smuggling; Boston Copartnerships ;
Pierpont and Lord; Charleston Store, s.c.; Adventures in Business at Bal-
timore .
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
doi
CHAPTER XI.
LAW AND LITERATURE.
Breaking up and Separation ; Law Studies at Baltimore; Prospects; First News-
paper Essay; The Delphians; First Novel; Others; Rapge of Study for an
American Lawyer; Return to Portland, Me., and set my Trap as a Lawyer . 160
CHAPTER XII.
LITERARY GROWTH: SPROUTING, FLOWER, AND FRUITAGE.
Budding Effiorescence; Mr. Pierpont's Notions ; "Niagara” and “Goldau ;'
Review of Byron's Works; More about my First Novel; How it was received 183
CONTENTS.
vii
CHAPTER XIII.
LITERARY GROWTII CONTINUED.
"Junius not Identified ;" * Allen's Revolution;" Paul Allen and Dr. Watkins;
Hezekiah Niles and the Index to his Register; Criticisms of the Day . . : 201
CHAPTER XIV.
OFF TO ENGLAND.
Progress of Portland; The Building Loan; My own Opinion of Myself and of my
Doings; Reminiscences of " Seventy-six;" “ Logan;" " Randolph;" Im-
prisonment for Debt; Slavery; The Pinkney Correspondence and Results ;
Duels ; Flash in the Pan; My First Night in London. . . . . . . . . 220
CHAPTER XV.
LONDON EXPERIENCES.
Trials of Authorship; "Blackwood," and the Monthlies and Quarterlies; Vag-
abond Englishnien; • Brother Jonathan;” T. Campbell; Jeffrey; ' " Ni-
agara," and the Fierce Gray Bird; Naylor, M.C.; Colonel Baker; Solicitor
Parkes; More Vagabond Englishmen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244
d. 244
CHAPTER XVI.
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SUBSTANTIAL TRUTH AND CIRCUMSTANTIAL
TRUTH.
Examples and Illustrations; Mr. John Bowring, before he was an LL.D. or
Knighted; Sketch of his character. from Life, with Anecdotes ; " Westmin-
ster Review;" His Cleverness, and Craft, and Shortsightedness; Jeremy
Bentham; Bowring's Notions of Patronage : His Bargains with me, and the
Consequences; Solicitor Parkes; Sir Rowland Ilill; Mr. Black, of tho
"Morning Chronicle;" John Stuart Mill . . . . . . . . . . . . 270
CHAPTER XVII.
DR. JEFFREY AND THE “EDINBURGH REVIEW."
Our Correspondence, and what followed ; Mr. John Austid ; His Wife; Her First
Literary Adventure ; Jeremy Bentham; A Gigantic Myth ; His Editor Du-
mont; Dumont's Connection with Mirabeau, Sir Samuel Romilly; Ben-
tham's Housekeeper; He brings her to Terms; Changes everywhere in
Legislation and Jurisprudence; Civil and Criminal Procedure; all oving to
Bentham, Aaron Burr; Sumner Lincoln Fairfield; Mr. Pelby the Actor;
Mr. Coke of Norfolk, afterward Earl of Leicester; John Dunn Hunter ;
Chester Harding and his First Portraits . . . . . . . . . . . .
296
viii
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XVIII.
PARIS.
Pistol-shooting; Great Discovery ; "Nigger" Shooting by a Careful Man; Adven-
Augelo's Rooms, Loudon; and how the Conqueror got bis “Come-ups; "
Propositions of Major Noal ; Poor Graham; Law Library ordered to New
York; Combination to drive me out of Portland; Street Squabbles; Hand-
bills; The Hon. Stepben Jones, M.D.; Deadly Prejudice; Origin thereof;
Declared a Lunatic by Proclamation ; Establish Gymnasia; Teach Boxing
and Fencing ; Abolitionists put to their Trumps ...
. .
315
CHAPTER XIX.
Settled in Portland: The " Yankee;" Chief-Justice Appleton; Edgar A. Poe,
aud others; Buckingham and the "New England Galaxy ; " Our Quarrel;
Becone iiclitor of the Galaxy ;” Trancis O. J. Smith and the Eastern
"Argus;" James Brooks; Office-hunting; City Government of Portland;
Mr. Neal Dow; Lotteries ; Narrow Escape from the State-Prison; Periodi-
cals; Favorable Change of Public Opinion ; General Fessenden ; Lecturing;
Extemporaneous and written Addresses; Marriage; Quarrying for Gold;
Building; Lacquered Ware banished ; Examples ii i :.. .
336
.
CHAPTER XX.
TEMPERANCE.
The Maine Law; Neal Dow; Gin; Rum-cherries ; Used for a Decoy; Malaga;
Vidonia; Boston Trials'; Baltimore; Abroad; Wine cellar; Temperance
Controversy ; Public Meetings; Debates ; Maine Law; Neal Dow; The City
Engineer; The « True Story;" Grog-shops and Roir-de-dows; Evasions of
UIE LUTY , wuule Louveniul
the Las; State Convention. .
. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . .
303
CHAPTER XXI.
Phrenology ; Animal Magnetism; Spiritualism; The Death penalty ; Modest
Men: Painters and Paintings; Growth of Portland ; James Neal, Stephen
Neal; The Will-case; Engineering of Mr. Neal Dow; Guardian of Stephen
Neal; Garrison; Mob in Portland, Park and Taminany Hall; Abolitionists;
General Fessenden ; Debates; Woman's Rights; Lecture in the Tabernacle;
New York; Debates there; Rowdy-dows, and Death of Poor Robbins ;
Mutual Benefit Life Insurance Compauy ; Cairo, Ill.; Mrs. Pierce and Gail
Hamilton; Rev. Mr. Chambers; Woman - suffrage; Objections answered ;
Mr. Pierpont and the "Two-penny Post-bag; " Sum Total . . . . . . 387
AFTER-THOUGHTS
.
.
.
.
.
.
428
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER I.
BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION.
ORIGIN OF “NIAGARA AND GOLDAU;" INDEX TO NILES'S REGISTER; REY.
DIR. GILMAN; REV. JOHN PIERPONT.
Aug. 25, 1866.- On this, my seventy-third birthday, and
one of the pleasantest I ever knew, I have begun, for the
fourth time, to give some account of myself.
A strange fatality has delayed, year after year, the fulfil-
ment of a promise made in 1859, immediately after the
appearance of “ True Womanhood;" though I went to work -
that very day, at the suggestion of my friend Longfellow, w
and persevered, until, at the end of a twelvemonth, I found I"
was in a fair way of making too much of a good thing, of
going too fast and too far; having conjured up about a
volume of these wandering recollections, without having
passed the threshold of a strange, busy, and somewhat ad-
venturous life. Whereupon, I threw the manuscript aside,
contenting myself, at last, with verifying some of the inci-
dents narrated, in a more familiar way, and greatly abridging
.the rest.
But still the wonder grew.” And as many interruptions
had occurred, so that I could not always remember what I
had written, I fell into repetitions, which I had no patience
with, after they were discovered ; and so I flung the whole
aside once more, and began afresh, with a higher purpose, and
had just about finished another moderate-sized volume, to
begin with, when the great fire of last July occurred, which
destroyed within a single hour, not only all my law-books
and office library and furniture, together with two dwelling-
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
S
houses, a five-story brick mill, and two large warehouses,
though widely separated, and in different parts of the town,
but most of my hoarded manuscripts, letters, memoranda,
and uniquities — not iniquities — I wish it had — the ac-
cumulation of more than fifty years ; leaving me, of all
my treasures, nothing but a charred copy of « Niagara and
Goldau," which a friend of mine had picked up somewhere -
I know not where - and sent me not long before, upon the
express condition, that after my death, it should be returned
to him.
This I had carefully put away in a safe, which was be-
lieved to be both burglar-proof and fire-proof, under ordinary
circumstances. My own copy of these two poems had been
abstracted - borrowed without leave -- by my amiable and
enterprising friend, General Bratish, Count Eliovich, &c., &c.,
&c., years before ; and I knew not where to go for another.
Although plucked “like a brand from the burning ” where
huge blocks of granite crumbled, and cast-iron melted and
fell in splashes upon the pavement, when struck by the fiery
blast; although literally taken out of the hot embers, like
another Triptolemus, undergoing immortality, — the pages
may still be deciphered, as though printed on asbestos, and
packed together, as if under a heavy pressure, and charred
through and through.
Not another fragment was found of all that I had lodged
in that confounded safe — a plague on all such safes, I say ! -
except a little scrap of Russian-leather binding, not larger
than your thumb-nail, with my name on it in gold letters,
and nothing more, as if it were intended to settle the ques-
tion of proprietorship, and lead to the restoration of my little
book; for, misled by a similarity of size and appearance, I
had overlooked my own safe, and forced open another, only
to find the core turned to ashes, like that of the dead sea-
apple we hear so much of.
After three such failures, just when I had got fairly a-going,
it may well be supposed that my ardor was somewhat damp-
ened. Still I was not discouraged. On the contrary, I saw
that, at my age, I had no time to lose, and I determined to
ever; for a job it would be, at the best, for any man to go over
BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION.
a long life, and tell the truth of himself, and nothing but the i
truth - even though he might fall short of telling the whole
truth; for who that lives could do that, even for a single
hour, though put upon oath, under a question of life and
death?
Yet more: calling to mind what Longfellow wrote me
when “ True Womanhood” appeared, -that, inasmuch as my
pen had found its way to the inkstand once more, he hoped I
should continue at the work, remembering that, -
"What to-day is not begun,
Will to-morrow not be done," —
I have succeeded in persuading myself, that, as the charred
trees in my neighborhood are already gushing out with a
sort of tropical richness, after the fiery baptism they have so
lately undergone, and hanging up their narrow pennons of
scorched bark, " torn and flying," from their topmost branches,
to the rough winds of approaching winter, so may the pur-
poses and thoughts, which have so long occupied my attention,
be mellowed into something better and worthier, and perhaps
make a braver show at last, because of these very hinderances,
and scorching disappointments.
Nov. 14. — Not another paragraph, not another word, have
I found time to add since the 25th of August. With no less
than six new buildings under way at the same time, and all
to be finished and ready for occupation before the snow
flies - N.B. It is flying now !- to say nothing of repairs
and alterations; with labor and materials doubled in price,
and a new city rising about me “like an exhalation," and far
more beautiful than ever, -it may well be supposed that I
have precious little time for self-indulgence, or literary dissi-
pation, though I have managed to throw off, now and then, a
magazine article or two, under the pressure of urgent solici-
tation.
Thoughts I have had, to be sure, and thoughts worth pre-
serving perhaps, relating to my past life; and yet, however
unpleasant it may be to have them perish of neglect or for-
getfulness, I have an idea that they had better ripen to burst-
ing, like all other wholesome natural fruit, than be gathered
too soon.
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Last night, and the night before, we were promised what I
have been waiting for ever since 1833, when my friend Pier-
pont, who has lately taken a new departure in his upward
striving, was with me at Niagara, and the heavens rained fire
upon us, and the stars fell by thousands about our way, while
we were both sound asleep, heedless alike of the tempestuous
brightness above, and the prodigious uproar below, of warring
constellations and tumbling oceans - the landlord not liking
to disturb us, he said ; but now it would seem that we are to
be disappointed, the wondrous exhibition being indefinitely
postponed, so that I may have to wait until we can see it
together, as we did Niagara, by the merest accident, after
having tried in vain for many a long year to do so. Never-
theless I am in no hurry. Life has not yet become a weari-
ness, nor a burden. I have been wonderfully favored. My
Datural strength has not much abated : desire has not failed, —
the desire, at least, of being happy myself, and of making
others happy; and I am willing to wait until the silver cord is
loosened and the golden bowl is broken for ever, in the pre-
appointed way.
And here it may not be wholly out of place for me to give
some account of the two poems “ Niagara” and “ Goldau,"
to which I have already referred. Both were suggested by
Mr. Pierpont, within a few months at furthest, after I had
begun the study of law, and was trying to earn a livelihood
with my pen, and to pay my way honestly, by hard work, as
I always have done, from that day to this. I forget which
was first; but I remember well that I threw off " Goldau”
in less than forty-eight hours after the suggestion was first
made, to the astonishment, and perhaps I might say to the
consternation, of my friend, who was in labor at that very
time with the “Airs of Palestine," bringing forth now and
then a few couplets - twins -- with agonizing throes, while
I was lanching my red-hot thunderbolts, like meteors, by
hope somewhat improved, before it was allowed to blaze
forth in public.
He came into my chamber one day, bringing with him a
copy of Buckminster's “ Travels” or “Letters," I forget
which. “Here is something that will just suit you," said he ;
BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION.
“a capital subject for a poem ; and you are the very boy to
do it into English verse.” He then read Buckminster's de-
scription of the valley, and his account of the catastrophe.
It was, indeed, a tremendous picture, -- the destruction of a
whole community, at sunset, without notice, by a moun-
tain - slide. I felt uplifted from the earth, as the plan I
adopted began to shape itself before me, flash after flash;
and before the sound of his footsteps had died away along the
sidewalk, the poem was fairly under way; and completed,
I think, within the time I have mentioned, or, at any rate,
within two or three days, at farthest.
And so with the “ Battle of Niagara," which, but for him,
perhaps, would have been but the Battle of Bridgewater.
“ Here!” said he, “here is another subject which you must
grapple with, at once;" and then he described the struggle, so
near the Falls, that, as the conflict ebbed and flowed, surging
now this way and now that — for the British battery was car-
ried and lost three several times before we prevailed — the
thunders of Niagara came and went with every change, liter-
ally shaking the solid earth with their awful underbase, and
filling the midnight sky with ponderous anthems for the
dead. Of course, I do not pretend to give the language
of my friend, for all this happened in 1818; but I give the bom
substance of what he communicated, or suggested, from the
official report, if I do not mistake, of General Scott himself,
whom I adopted for the hero — and played the mischief with,
in trying to weave a story into the warp and woof of this
prodigious drama. I was carried away, with a sense of hid-
den wings, in the contemplation of what I saw and heard, as
the picture began to shape itself, with appalling distinctness,
to. my imagination. I almost fancied that I could see the
battle, and hear the uproar. It was a revelation: I felt as
if I had become an eye-witness of the great transaction;
as if the dark blue curtains of another world, bedropped
with fire and overshot with gold, had been reverently put
aside, by the hand of a mortal, for my special encouragement.
In a word, it is my belief now, that mine was a clear case of ..
spontaneous combustion ; for I began to seethe and simmer
upon the spot, and, before I slept, flamed up with some of
the best lines in the book, though I had been occupied all
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
day long upon my “Index to Niles's Register," about the
dreariest and heaviest drudgery mortal man was ever tried
with. And yet I persevered — laboring sixteen hours a day,
and every day, without regard to sabbaths or holidays - for no
less than four months upon that confounded “Register,” and
then firing up, after it was time to go to bed, with a page or
two of “ Niagara ” or “ Goldau," -- one or both, as the whim
took me.
So entirely absorbed was I, in my devotion to these two
strangely different objects upon which every thing de-
pended at the time, and about which I shall have something
more to say hereafter, for the encouragement of others that
my left leg and thigh, which happened to be nearest the fire,
as I wrote, were absolutely charred without my knowledge;
so that the flesh came off at last in large flakes, very much
as if I had been slowly barbacued in my sleep, or as if my
friends had been roasting me alive, in advance of public
opinion.
Mine was a hickory fire, and I kept it up, night and day,
with a bushel or two of live coals always on the hearth;
sitting close to it, and wearing, for pantaloons, a thick, double-
milled cassimere. Otherwise, I should have been blistered
into consciousness long before, instead of being charred in
patches; and to a depth which frightened me, when I first
saw them, in getting out of bed, by a strong fire-light. My
poor thigh was mottled like castile soap, and the flakes that
came off were thicker than our old-fashioned wafers. Evi-
dently, I had been baking by a slow fire, without knowing it;
and these accumulations had come of my being heated and
cooled, week after week, just before I was ready to blow
off, and blaze outright.
And so “ Niagara and Goldau” were completed, side by
side with the Index, during that period of scorching gestation;
but nobody knew of it until they appeared in print, although
I had astonished Mr. Pierpont with the first rough sketch of
6 Goldau,” within two or three days after he had suggested it,
as I have said before, the only person, by the way, that
ever saw a manuscript of mine, either in prose or poetry, or
ever heard a page of it read aloud, before it was offered for
publication.
BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION.
Mr. Pierpont was going through with his theological course
at Cambridge, when these two poems appeared, taking him
wholly by surprise. He wrote me soon after getting posses-
sion of a copy, which I had sent him, and stated, among a
multitude of pleasant things, that the Rev. Mr. Gilman, after-
ward settled at Charleston, S.C., had insisted on taking the
book with him to Niagara, which he was about visiting for
the first time. A month after this, he wrote again, to say,
that Mr. Gilman had returned and had a talk with him about
both Niagaras — the cataract and the poem — of which the
following, as near as I can give it from recollection, though I
have the letter itself among my household autographs, and
other treasures of an early date, is about the substance:
“What a wonderful gift, my friend, is that insight which
characterizes the poet," said Mr. Gilman. “Do you know,"
he added, “ that before I opened the book, I went and seated
myself where I could see the Falls to the greatest advantage ;
and then, after having shifted about from one point to an-
other, until I had mastered, as I believed, the whole picture, I
opened the book, and then I saw what I had entirely over-
looked before, and what only a poet could see, without help
from another. What a wonderful gift, to be sure! It was
a new creation for me. I saw now through the eyes of
a poet," &c. “How familiar the author must have been
with the changing aspects of this great wonder ; how he
must have studied it!”
Mr. Pierpont allowed him to go on and on, till he had run
himself out of breath, and then astonished him beyond meas-
ure, and almost beyond belief, by saying that he was quite
sure I had never seen the Falls ; but he would write me and
ask if I had. My answer was, that I had not only never seen
them, but that I had never seen so much as a tolerable paint-
ing of them; though I had often read what was intended for
a description, and, among others, a paragraph or two in Wil-
son's Ornithology, where, in describing the white-headed eagle
(Falco leucocephalus), our great national representative, he
told us that the brave bird, while dashing hither and thither,
through the huge columns of mist and spray, was sometimes
shipwrecked in his adventurous flight, and carried over the
Falls - if one might believe the stories that were told. Of
WANDIRING RECOLLECTIONS.
these eagles, I had ventured to make some use, though never
in the way mentioned. All the rest of the picture was made
up of what I knew must always be the leading characteris-
tics of crowded, and rushing, tumultuous and tumbling waters.
By generalizing, I provoked the reader to supply all my de-
ficiencies, and particularize for himself, as Mr. Gilman had
done, who saw clearly, at each remove, what I had but dimly
suggested.
It was at this time, and in consequence of the pleasant
error Mr. Gilman had been led into, that Mr. Pierpont pro-
posed a trip to Niagara with me, whenever we might be able
to afford the expense. The proposition was accepted; and,
from that time forth, it was our settled determination to visit
Niagara together, and thereby commemorate ourselves, if
nothing more. But alas for the safest and wisest of inortal
plans, if they be postponed to a distant morrow! Year after
year went by, and up to 1823, when I went abroad, owing to
changes and interruptions without number, we had never been
able to keep our vow. After my return, however, it was
renewed with a more decided emphasis; and, in the summer
of 1833, all our arrangements were completed for going
together, and taking our wives with us — not for companion-
ship only, if the truth must be told, but for regulators and
balance-wheels, as, without them, we knew not where we
should bring up. I was about going abroad once more, in
the hope of seeing much I had overlooked before, simply
because I could see it any time; and I felt unwilling to show
my face among the wonders of the Old World, before I had
seen something more of the New. How should I like to be
questioned again, as I had been many times before, about
Niagara, and the Natural Bridge, and the Prairies, and the
Missouri, and the Mississippi ?
But just when we were ready for the trip, there came a
notice from my old partner in business, "John Pierpont,
Esquire,” that he should be obliged to give up the idea alto-
gether, having been called away to the West somewhere, for
the dedication of a new church. I felt sorry, and so did my
wife; but our minds were made up to go, and go we did, and
by ourselves. After blundering though many hundreds of
miles, not to say thousands, at the hourly risk of our lives, in
BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION.
the abominable stage-coaches, that did the business for many
a Western traveller in that day, we arrived at Buffalo, on
our way to Niagara and Quebec, and the battle-fields of the
Revolution, which were all new to us. Happening to be out
on the piazza of our hotel soon after we arrived, my atten-
tion was attracted by a small card fastened to a pillar. Judge
of my astonishment, when I found it was a notice that the
Rev. Mr. Pierpont would “officiate” somewhere that evening
or the next, I forget which. So off I posted in search of
the wanderer; found him seated at a table with his back
toward the entrance, went up to him softly, and fetched hiin
a hearty slap on the back, which he resented, by starting to
his feet, staring at me, as if he had raised a spirit, and jump-
ing into my arms like a schoolboy. Our trip to Niagara was
forth with arranged anew, and the very next day we found
ourselves there, myself for the first time, and he for the third
or fourth, I believe; after which came the star-shower, thick
“as the leaves in Valombrosa," or the untimely blossoms of
a fig-tree stripped by a hurricane, while we were asleep.
And here we may as well draw rein, and take a long breath,
and look about us.
Nov. 26.-- A long breath it has been! but if we are
allowed only so many breathings, and they are all counted
to us, and we cannot go beyond our allowance, may it not
be good economy sometimes, to take the longest breath we
can? May it not be soothing, as well as strengthening, to
stop now and then, and look about us, on our way up hill,
or down hill, after we have passed our meridian, and ask
ourselves in all seriousness, What next?
Here am I now, but little further advanced in my fourth
attempt, than I was three months ago; owing partly to my
building operations, and partly to the fact, that I have been
persuaded to write half a score of magazine articles, instead
of so many chapters in my autobiography. Perhaps, how-
ever, the outline sketch I have made of Mr. Pierpont for
the “ Atlantic,” and the papers on Education furnished the
“ Phrenological Journal,” to say nothing of a story or two,
and a short poem, may be regarded as but so many episodes.
But another and a very serious question has lately sprung
up in my way. Shall I proceed as hitherto, beginning with
10
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
my earliest recollections, and going on, from year to year,
crossing my own path continually, at the risk of many repe-
titions, only that I may keep together the doings of a certain
period, rather than my doings within a certain field ? Or
shall I take up, one after another, such developments of char-
acter as we all undergo in our progress through the world,
from youth to old age, beginning with the earliest I remem-
ber, and following them out, year after year, to the present
day ? Much may be said on both sides, according to Oliver
Goldsmith; but, on the whole, I think the latter not only the
wiser, but the pleasanter course. And therefore, after having
disposed of my parentage in the usual way, I propose to give
my experience under different heads, just as they occur to me;
so that if any reader should be curious to know something
of my first impulses, and what became of them in after life,
through the ever-unfolding changes of boyhood, manhood, and
old age, he need only look at the heading of the chapters,
and choose one for himself, and follow that division of the
subject to the “bitter end."
OF MY PARENTAGE AND FAMILY.
11
CHAPTER II.
OF MY PARENTAGE AND FAMILY.
SECOND-SIGHT AND APPARITIONS.
Nov. 27. — Again I have an hour or two of comparative
leisure, and may venture to take up the pen, without fear of
interruption for a while. The weather being so favorable, a
second Indian summer having opened to us, and my building
operations going on so smoothly, I think I may afford to in-
dulge in a little gossipping.
My father and mother, and all their relations on both sides
of the house, were Friends. Their “birthright” could be v
traced back to the time of George Fox. My grandfather,
James Neal, was a public preacher among that people, and
up to the very last, though a godly man — so godly that he
believed he had been able to live one whole day without sin,
and serious enough upon all proper occasions — was a great
favorite with the young and merry-hearted, and full of quiet
humor. Two or three anecdotes have just occurred to me,
which I remember hearing told of him, when I was a little
boy. Riding one day to attend a “monthly meeting” some-
where in the “ District of Maine," as our State was then
called -- it being but an appendage to Massachusetts, though
four times larger - he had for his companion Remington
Hobby, another “ approved” minister, and a remarkably sedate
man, who took every thing so to heart in this naughty world,
that he eschewed all joking and pleasantry, as a part of the
idle words we are to give an account of hereafter. It seems
that friend Hobby bad a troublesome cold in the head.
“ James," said he, as they were jogging along in a quiet seri-
ous way, “ James," — flourishing a large chocolate bandanna,
of the old orthodox type, rather too near the head of the
spirited horse my grandfather rode, - “how my nose runs!”
12
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
« Well, Remington," was the reply, “I rather guess thee 'll
be able to keep up with it; thee's got a pretty good horse
under thee.” Both were supposed to be capital judges of
horse-flesh, drab cloth, and beaver hats; always wearing the
best, and seldom meeting, without a little grave banter and
claffering on the part of “James.”
Many other like pleasantries I might recall, as they crowd
upon my recollection ; but, having been led astray so often
and so far, by following such will-o'-the-wisps, I have grown
distrustful of myself, and of them, and shall give only two
or three more, which seem to be characteristic of the family.
Riding over the top of a hill one day, which seemed little
better than a rock heap, in the midst of a landscape so dis-
mal, so desolate, and so rough, it seemed to be laboring under
a curse, he saw a man hard at work, laying up a stone wall,
as if perfectly satisfied with his lot, and resolved to make the
best of it. “Neighbor,” said my grandfather, pulling up
short, as he spoke, “neighbor, may I ask thee where theo
gets the stones for that wall thee's building ?”
“Where do I get 'em !” said the man, with a puzzled look.
“Why, all about here.”
“ Thee does! Well, I declare! I didn't miss any of them,"
said the grave Quaker, as he rode off, without changing coun-
tenance. The last that was seen of the man, he was stand-
ing stock-still, as if bewildered, and following with his eyes
the stately apparition, as it slowly disappeared over the brow
of the hill; occasionally muttering to himself, and shaking his
head, if we may believe the representations of a third party, as
if, notwithstanding the Quaker garb and serious look of the
stranger, he had his misgivings, or did not feel quite satisfied
with himself.
Stephen, the eldest son, appears to have inherited some-
thing of his father's drollery. “Friend Neal,” said Squire
Bartlet, one day, who had just been told that a wretched
pauper was about being married, “what do ye think in-
duced Trip to take a wife?” — “Why, that he might have
something to call his own,” was the reply.
And so with James, the third son.“ Poor fellow !” said
a passing traveller, as he threw a glance over a brush fence,
that seemed to be rambling off into a dreary waste, which a
OF MY PARENTAGE AND FAMILY.
13
man was tearing up with a plough, jump after jump, as if
both were playing leap-frog.
“Not so poor as thee inay think for!” said uncle James,
who happened to overhear the remark; “ for he owns only
one-half of it.”
But the second son, my poor father, who died in his thirtieth
year, seems to have taken things more seriously, and, though
far from being an austere man, to have had no disposition for
joking under any circumstances. It may be that he had a
shadowed, from early age, by the angel of death.
Of the daughters Peace, Keziah, and Elizabeth, Keziah
alone betrayed her relationship, when “much enforced,” by
flashes of quiet sarcasm, and a kind of playfulness at times,
which reminded us all of grandfather.
My earliest progenitors, on my father's side, were Andrew
Neal, who died in 1757; and his wife Dorcas, who died in
1791. Beyond these I cannot venture to go; though I am
assured by the Neals of Salem, that I might, if I would, trace
my lineage up to Cromwell; and by others, who have taken
great pains to satisfy themselves, that we are of the red
O'Neals who had to do with Queen Elizabeth, and that Shane
Castle -- about which I wrote a poem, while Mr. Pierpont was
looking over my shoulder, in 1816, on hearing that it had just
been destroyed by fire — was a part of our family heritage. Of
these two stories, I don't believe a word; nor shall I, without --
clearer pooof by far than I have yet met with.
My grandfather held to the last that our ancestors were
Scotch; but in Dover and Portsmouth, England, I found the
name so frequently in the graveyards, with that of John pre-
fixed, in two or three cases — and always spelled as we have
spelled ours for the last hundred years, though I had one letter
in my possession before the fire of July last, in which it was
spelled Neil, instead of Neal, by uncle James himself - that I
began to feel as much at home there, as I should in the grave-
yards of Portsmouth or Dover, New Hampshire, where the
earliest of our family first planted themselves, and where
the name, with a slight change of orthography here and there,
abounds. The first settlers of a country are fond of the
names they have always been familiar with at home; and it
14
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
is therefore but a reasonable presumption that Portsmouth
was named by emigrants from Portsmouth; and Dover, by
emigrants from Dover, England.
But however this may be, although I have great respect
for old families, that is, for people who have had grandfathers,
I am not inclined to take a part in the controversy which the
“old man eloquent” set a-going, about forty years ago, between
the families of to-day, and the families of yesterday, or the
day before.
And here, in this connection, I am reminded of a some-
what amusing circumstance, which has led to having my
name written, both at home and abroad, with a final e — Neale
instead of Neal. For a time, I supposed the magazine-writers,
and others who" sarved me out” in the newspapers, had been
misled by the orthography of Joseph C. Neale's name; but
I discovered at last that I myself was answerable for the
change; and in this way. When I gave an account of all our
American writers for « Blackwood," I was obliged of course
not to overlook myself, or the authorship would have been
guessed immediately. And so I spoke of “John Neale," as I
did of others, only taking care to say that I gave his own
language in speaking of himself, and spelling the name Neale.
All who knew me were of course thrown off the scent; while
strangers adopted the new orthography, and stuck to it, not-
withstanding all my protestations and remonstrances, until
Henry Neale and Joseph C. Neale and myself were supposed
to be of one blood, if not of one family. Perhaps I deserved
what followed, and have no right to complain.
And now for myself. I was born, to the best of my recol-
lection and belief, on the 25th of August, 1793; and my
twin-sister - Rachel, on the 24th, leaving an interval of
about twelve hours between us, though the question has
never yet been fully determined.
Our parents had no other children, and my father died
within a month after we were born, leaving my poor mother
babies upon her hands; one of which, my dear sister, was of
a feeble constitution, and always ailing, though she lived to
the age of sixty-five, and for many years before she died was
favored with uncommon health, notwithstanding the failure of
her eyesight.
OF MY PARENTAGE AND FAMILY.
15
As the Friends have no poor, and all her brothers were
substantial farmers, and all our relations, on both sides, in
comfortable circumstances, my mother found no serious diffi-
culty in her way, after she was able to sit up. My father had
been a school-master, and at the time of his death was employed
by the town. Feeling that she had no time to lose, not a
day, she opened a private school, to which some of the
larger boys, who had been for a long while under my father's
training, were immediately sent; and this occupation she
followed for thirty-five years, and my sister after her, up to
1830.
Nov. 29. -- Thanksgiving day, and so very mild and pleasant,
that I was hardly seated, before I was called to hear a report
from the master mason I had employed on a large store in
Exchange Street, that a portion of the division wall, eighty feet
in depth, and three stories high, had slipped away and tumbled
into a neighbor's empty cellar. Nor was I alone. Others had
suffered in the same way, and two or three much more seri-
ously; here, by the pressure of the wind; there, by the frost
coming out of the walls, which had been built, as mine were,
of old brick that had been left uncovered till they were drip-
ping wet. Most thankful am I, that the mishap occurred before
we had gone up a story higher, or it was too late for me to
a repetition of the “slide;" and very thankful, I must ac-
knowledge, that I have no more to be thankful for.
And now let us return to our Reminiscences. My father
died after a very short illness, of which different accounts are
given by those who knew him best, and while my mother
was confined to her bed; though she had left it once, ou hear-
ing that he wanted to see her, and went to his room in spite
of all remonstrances, where she saw him for the last time,
only a day or two before his death.
She used to say that he died of a fever, which was brought
on by a severe cold, taken at the door, when a mysterious
stranger called to see him, and would not enter the house ;
but Josiah Dow (father of Neal Dow), one of his earliest
and best friends, who never spoke of him without visible
emotion, and Jeanette Starkie, one of my father's scholars,
and Mrs. Abigail Horton, or " Aunt Nabbie,” (now in her
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
ninety-serenth year), all members of the society, and per-
sonal friends of my father and mother, are quite sure that he
took the fever at Falmouth, where he went to watch with
some of the sick, while the throat-distemper, as it was then
called, -- the putrid sore throat, - and a malignant ship-fever
prevailed for a season, filling the whole neighborhood with
consternation. But, however this may be, the fatigue and
watching, added to his anxiety about my mother, may have
predisposed him for what followed.
That the Friends have rather a disposition toward the
marvellous -- an easy faith in the wonderful, that is — I have
had occasion to see from my earliest boyhood; yet there were
some strange circumstances preceding, and foretelling, as
many thought, the death of my father, which I have lately had
detailed to me by the venerable Josiah Dow, who died a year
or two ago, at the age of ninety-one.
“ Thy father came to see me not long before thee was born,”
said this exceedingly kind-hearted, conscientious man,“ about
something which troubled him so, that he could not think of
any thing else. We were like brothers — we had been boys
together," — and here the good old man's eyes filled, and his
voice faltered; and the story he told me was this. Com-
ing through the garden toward nightfall, the day before, he
saw my mother there — left her, without speaking, as he was
in somewhat of a hurry, and went into the house; and there
he saw her sitting by the window, and busy with her work.
6 Why, Rachel,” said he, “how did thee manage to get in
before me?" It was evident enough that she did not under-
stand him: her startled look made him stop short; and he
merely added, that he thought he saw her in the garden as he
passed through. But no: she had not been there during the
whole day: she had not even left her chair, within the last hour.
My father was afraid to pursue the inquiry, lest he should
alarm her; but the garden was not large, and he had passed
so near to her, that he could almost have touched her. “In
short,” continued friend Dow, “ thy father looked upon it as a
forerunner, as it proved to be; but then he supposed it intended
for thy mother, and not for himself; and this it was that so
troubled him.” — “ Being toward nightfall," said I, “and he
so anxious about my mother, and not in the best of health at
OF MY PARENTAGE AND FAMILY.
17
the time, and greatly fatigued, perhaps, with night-watch-
ing, might he not have mistaken somebody else for my
mother?”
- No: I think not; for thy mother was one of the hand-
somest women of her day, and there was nobody in that
neighborhood who resembled her in person or look."
And here I may as well add, that the garden lay in the rear
of the brick house now standing at the corner of South, and
Free Streets, and owned by Mr. S. R. Lyman, who took off
the old Gooding house, in which my father died, and which I
found, not long ago, on the westerly side of Cotton Street; a
two-story, yellow frame-house, crowded with Irish, and still
in pretty good repair. I was born, they tell me, in the north
front chamber; our family occupying two or three rooms, at
most, in the second story.
But my mother told me of something more, which, know-
ing her cautiousness and conscientiousness, and her calm, cool
judgment in all the business of life, I must acknowledge
made a profound impression on me, after I had got my growth.
Had she been addicted to poetry, or given to the reading of
romances or story books - I never knew her to read but two
or three in all her life, “ Reuben and Rachel," and " Eliza
Wharton," and " Charlotte Temple," and not so much as one
of mine - I might have regarded the vision, or forerunner,
which I am now about to give in her own language, as the result
of a temporary hallucination ; for that she herself believed
it, nobody that knew her would think of questioning for a
moment. But as her chief reading consisted of “ No Cross,
no Crown," the “ Travels of Job Scott," Young's “ Night
Thoughts," " Thomas à Kempis," and the newspapers of the
day; and as she was quite remarkable for downright common-
sense, without a glimmer of imagination, or the slightest
leaning toward extravagance or exaggeration, it was not easy
to believe that she could be mistaken.
"I was sitting in front of the fire, after the business of
the day was over," said she, “waiting for thy father. The fire
was low, and as I reached forward to take up one end of a
large fore-stick, a hand appeared a long, slender hand
like thy father's and took up the other end of the fore-
stick and helped place it where it belonged. I knew it
2.
18
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
was thy father's hand the moment I saw it; and I believed
it was meant for a warning.”
“ Did you tell father of it?" I asked.
“No: I was afraid he might be troubled.”
6 Perhaps you had fallen asleep, and were dreaming ?”
She shook her head, and smiled, mournfully to be sure;
but so as to satisfy me that she had weighed all the circum-
stances before, and that my suggestion was not new to her.
I then asked her how late in the evening it was.
“I do not remember the hour," she said, “but I know it
was early; for supper was waiting for thy father, and he was
always punctual.”
Our familiarity of late with what are called spiritual
manifestations will of course take away much of our amaze-
ment, if not of our unbelief; but still I should be disposed
to rank this revelation among the most marvellous I have
heard of, through well-authenticated narratives; but, within
the last two or three years, I have heard from another branch
of the family a very different version of the story.
My grandfather, on my mother's side - Daniel Hall, one
of the ten thousand descendants of Hatevil Hall - died a
strange death. He was a man of large stature, and of great
bodily strength. He had never been ill enough to keep his
bed for a single day in all his life. One afternoon, toward
nightfall, in swingling flax, a splinter got into his hand.
That very night, the hand began to swell, and at last grew
very painful. Mortification set in: the ablest physicians were
sent for, but nothing could be done; and he walked the floor
night and day, till he died.
The hand my mother saw, is now believed by this branch
of the house to have been that of my grandfather Hall; for
it was said to be discolored and swollen. But however this
may be -- and I choose to rely upon what my mother told
me and my wife, with her own mouth, not long before her
death it is certain that all the family have entire and ab-
solute faith in the vision, however they may disagree in these
unimportant details. That a hand appeared, like that which
so disturbed Belshazzar, that his knees smote together,
although for a much kinder purpose, nobody thinks of doubt-
ing, I find, among the Friends.
OF MY PARENTAGE AND FAMILY.
19
But are they superstitious ? Are they a people of easy
faith in the marvellous ? I rather think they are. While get-
a child, I remember hearing two or three of the soberest -
one of whom, the late Samuel F. Hussey, wore the broadest
of broad-brims — give an account of a little boy, at New-
Bedford I think, who was thought to be gifted with second-
sight; and I am sure they told the story as if they believed
it themselves, and one or two were eye-witnesses of what, in
the days of Cotton Mather, might have led to something
serious.
The boy, they said, was playing on the floor, when, all at
once, he stopped, and appeared to be frightened. His
parents questioned him, and tried to soothe him; and, at last,
he whispered in his mother's ear that he saw a vessel which
had been shipwrecked, belonging to a near neighbor. The
parents paid little or no attention to the story, and it was
entirely forgotten, till, at the end of six months, the news
came that the vessel had been lost; and, upon comparing
dates, they found it was about the time, if not on the very
day and hour, when the boy had the vision.
At another time, he burst out a-laughing, without any
apparent cause; and, upon being interrogated, he said that a
neighbor of somewhat questionable habits had just rolled
down a hill, a long way off, and broken two jugs he had with
him; and this also proved to be true. The old man had
rolled down the further side of a hill, which rose up between
the little seer, and the distant highway. :
And I remember lying still in my trundle-bed, and hold-
ing my breath and pretending to be asleep, when I was not
more than six years of age, while Clarissa Brackett, another
Friend, and one of my dear mother's cronies, told about a
woman, who, in passing through a dark entry and up a
long stairway, was followed by a spirit the spirit of her
husband's first wife, and the mother of two or three children
she was treating barbarously — and struck her on the back,
between the shoulders, with a bunch of keys, which left a
mark that was found there when they laid her out. This
they had occasion to do without much delay; for she took to
her bed at once, and raved about the spirit and the bunch of
keys till she died.
20
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
And Jeanette Starkie, a female preacher among the
Friends, whom I have already mentioned as one of my
father's scholars, a woman quite remarkable for discretion, or
sobriety, of speech, and for soundness of judgment, told me
not long ago of two cases, within her own personal experi-.
ence, which I should like to give in her own words, if my
memorauda had not been destroyed by the fire.
In the first, a lovely young woman, the daughter of her
present husband by a first wife, was lying at the point of
death, unreconciled to God. In her anguish of spirit, one
day, when left alone for a few minutes, she prayed to be de-
livered from her doubts, and, to that end, that she might be
permitted to see her name written in the Lamb's book of
life. And, lo! straightway there appeared upon the bed,
before her eyes, a large open book, wherein she saw her
name written at full length. Was it a dream, or a revelation ?
She was not asleep when the attendant left the room ; she
was wide-awake when that attendant returned; she was no
enthusiast; and wholly incapable of untruth, at any time,
much less at a time when she was about to pass away from
earth for ever. Add to all this, that she died in the full pos-
session of her senses, with a smile upon her beautiful coun-
tenance, and a declaration of trust upon her lips, founded
on what she had been permitted to see. Of course, we,
who are strangers, or philosophers, do not believe a word of
all this; but the mother-in-law does, and all the family; and
surely this ought to weigh with us, even though we may not
believe in compurgators, nor be quite ready to believe at
second hand, what we should be unwilling to believe, were
we eye-witnesses.
The other case related by her was substantially as follows:
One of our worthiest fellow-citizens -- the late Captain
Daniel Tucker, if I am not mistaken — saw the apparition
of his first wife enter the room where he was at the time, and
take her place at a writing-desk she had always used when
alive. I cannot give the details ; but, according to my present
recollection, the main fact was as I have related. It was
evident from her whole manner, that this amiable Quakeress,
and approved minister among the Friends, believed the story
as I have told it; for she knew all the parties.
OF MY PARENTAGE AND FAMILY.
Let me add here that my mother used to relate in a
pleasant way, as if it were hardly worth mentioning seriously,
another strange personal experience, in which her story seemed
to be corroborated by others, at least in part. According to
what we are told of spectres and goblins, they are not often
testified to by more than one person at a time, like the ghosi
of Banquo. But in the case I am about to mention, where,
if neither ghost nor goblin appeared, something else did, in
broad daylight, with a number of eye-witnesses, who were
neither agitated, nor troubled with remorse of conscience, to
verify the apparition, and therefore to confirm the story told
by my mother about her dream.
It appears that she had lost, in some unaccountable way -
perhaps, I should say, in a mysterious way - a heavy silver
shoe-buckle, one of a pair, which, notwithstanding they were
counted among the vanities of the world, were very precious
to the young, handsome Quakeress, then just flowering into
womanhood. Diligent search had been made for it, day after
day, and month after month, through a long dreary winter, till
the spring opened, but always in vain. Yet she had not
given up all hope: she thought of her buckle by day, she
dreamt of it by night, and was haunted with a settled con-
viction that she should find it again, somewhere.
One morning, while the family were at breakfast, with a
window open, that looked into the front yard, a young rooster
flew up, and lighted on the window-sill, and gave a loud noisy
crow. My mother looked frightened ; and all were some-
what startled by the suddenness and unexpectedness of the
apparition. After a few minutes of dead silence, however,
finding all eyes turned toward her, as if wondering at her -
paleness and agitation, she “ up and told a dream” she had,
the night before, and might never have thought of again but
for the appearance of the bird in the open window, and his
loud crowing.
She dreamed that they were all at breakfast, with that very
window open; that a young chicken-cock flew in, rested on
the sill, and began to crow, or rather to scream; that she ran
to drive him away, and that she followed him to the well,
where, just under the edge of a melting snow-drift, she found
the buckle.
22
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
The old folks laughed at her ; but the younger fry insisted
on her having the dream out. She refused at first, but, after
a while, gave way, and followed the bird, which, oddly enough,
did fly off in the direction of the well; after a few minutes
she returned, holding up the buckle, and shouting, “I have
found it! I have found it!” Not having read Plutarch per-
haps, nor ever heard of Archimedes, and being unacquainted
with Greek, she did the best she could, instead of saying,
Eureka ! Eureka! And, sure enough, she had found the
buckle just where she had been told in her dream to look for
it, under the edge of a melting snow-drift. She had lost it
probably in going to the well for water. But enough on this
head. If the Friends are not a little given to the marvel-
lous, if they are not a little superstitious, then have I misun-
derstood what. I believe to be one of their characteristics.
INCIDENTS OF CHILDHOOD.
CHAPTER III.
INCIDENTS OF CHILDHOOD, REVELATIONS, AND
ORATORY.
Dec. 3, 1866.- More Indian summer! Not a handful of
snow since the 23d of last month, and then only what we
call a "flirt," and the Scotch a “flurry;" atmosphere warm
and delicious, and full of what seems to be the breath of
roses. Such weather is now worth fifty thousand dollars
a day to our laborers, mechanics, builders, and property-
holders. More than six hundred buildings have gone up,
and half as many more will be under way, or have their caps
on, before the snow flies — or rather, for one should be wary
in prophesying, before the snow lies. But we have had two
or three head flaws — heavy rains and heavy blows; and
some of our walls have been pushed from their foundations,
and others have toppled over, though laid in cement, and
over a foot thick.
And now let us return. Among my earliest recollections
is that of being obliged to stand upon a table, and say over,
" Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, whose trembling limbs
have borne him to your door," at the special instance and
request of my dear old grandfather, and a few of what were
called with singular propriety his particular friends; for they
overlooked nothing, and were always in the way of prodigies
and portents. How I quitted myself, I do not remember, nor
am I quite sure that I remember of myself what I have
already mentioned; for I was not over two and a half, or
three years of age at the time, as I found out by letters
which were in my possession before the fire; but I do remem-
ber, and without help or misgiving, incidents yet earlier.
The very first was the following. It was a second birth
to me, and all before was a dead blank, and continues to be
so, up to this hour. But how old was I? My vouchers being
24
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
all destroyed, I can judge only by circumstances. On our way
from Falmouth, now Portland, to Kittery, now Elliot, where
my grandfather lived, I remember, as if it were but yester-
day, going through water so deep that it flowed over the
bottom of our carriage. I remember, too, the strange appear-
ance of the trees growing out of the water, with no sign of
road or pathway, and nothing to guide us. There had been
a great freshet; and the whole country up to Doughty's
Falls, they say, was flooded. We stayed with my grand-
father a year and a half; and I was not put into jacket-and-
trousers, till after our return to Portland, so that I could not
have been much older than I have said.
But while I remember many other little incidents with dis-
tinctness, I remember nothing at all — absolutely nothing - of
a somewhat serious accident, which occurred to me while we
were at my grandfather's. It seems that he was furnishing
ship-timber for Portsmouth; that one of his workmen stood
up a broad axe by the handle, with the blade resting
against the fence, while away to dinner; that I went after
some chips, barefooted; and, while gathering them, the old
sow began rooting about in my neighborhood, and at last
overthrew the axe, which, in falling, struck me, and cut off
my great toe, so that it only hung by a bit of skin. How
strange that, while a score of other incidents, absolutely trivial
in comparison, are crowding upon my recollection with the
vividness and clearness of recent experience, I remember
nothing of the fright or pain which I must have suffered, and
am obliged to rely upon others for the fact, while carrying
the scar with me to the grave!
Among these are the following. I give them in the order
they occur to me. I took it into my head one day to clamber
into an empty hogshead ; and let some of my playfellows roll
me about, until I received a serious gash over the left temple,
from a peg or a nail, which had been overlooked. They say
that I was taken up and carried into the house, and laid upon
a table, where the wound was sewed up; and that when it'was
all over, and I was asked how I felt, I said to uncle James,
who had given me a fig to encourage me under the operation,
that I should be willing to go through the whole of it again,
for another fig.
INCIDENTS or CHILDHOOD.
25
About this time, they put me into jacket-and-trousers;
whereupon, they say that I gathered up my petticoats and
flung them to my sister, saying, “ Sis may have these : they're
too good for me.” Here was a touch of human nature.
Being twins, we had always been dressed alike, till then ;
but, from that time forward, I was the man-child, and she -
poor thing! - only “Sissy," and obliged to wear petti-
coats.
I remember also, and this without help -- for when I men-
tioned it to my mother, not long before her death, she had
wholly forgotten the circumstance - that, having been pro-
vided with a new hat, I amused myself one sabbath-morning
- and the neighbors also, I dare say - with kicking the old
one, of which I had long been heartily ashamed, up and down
the street, on my way to meeting.
And this reminds me of a narrow escape I had to say
nothing of the poor boy I aimed at, one day, with a cross-
bow, as he was leaning over and drinking from the nose of
a pump, standing by what used to be known as the Fosdick
House, on the corner of Federal and Church Streets. I
stood on the steps of the Friends' meeting-house, lately
occupied by Thompson, the marble-cutter, when I snapped
the string and let fly, with no more idea of hitting the
poor fellow than of hitting a swallow on the wing; but my
little crooked arrow, whittled out of a shingle, struck him
just between the eyes, as he lifted his head after drinking.
eye, myself undying remorse, and my mother a pretty penny,
I dare say; for we Down-Easters are a litigious people, and
lawyers are always to be had.
And yet another. Having been furnished with a pine-sled
by my uncle Siméon Hall, which, owing to a little oversight
when it was put together, was always running against the
grain, I was obliged to do my sliding on the steepest hills I
could find, or run the risk of stopping half-way, and tumbling
off into the snow. I went with two or three companions,
one beautiful moonlight evening, to try my luck on Titcomb's
Wharf, near Clay-cove, just below our new custom-house. Not
being well acquainted with the neighborhood, I followed iu
the wake of the other boys; but instead of turning off, as
26
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
they did, at a particular bend of the highway, which they were
acquainted with, and of course had prepared for, I kept on
and on, till I found myself in the dock, fifteen or twenty feet
below, with a sheet of ice under me, and great blocks of salt-
water ice piled up in every direction about me. I had been
going a “belly-plumper;" and, for a minute or two, I thought
I never should breathe again, so completely was the wind
knocked out of me. The boys were not to blame, however.
They did not know that I was there for the first time, and
never thought of warning me, till it was too late, and they
saw me going head-first over the wharf, and into the sea.
Luckily for us all, the tide was out. And so has it ever been
with me. In the midst of my sorest and bitterest trials, from
boyhood to old age, I have always had something to be
thankful for; so that, for many years, when a heavy blow
has fallen upon me, or a great disappointment has happened,
my first thoughts have always been, Thank God, it is no
worse! How much I sti]l have to be thankful for! and how
much less have I to coniplain of, than others about me!
With that unhappy sled, there is another sorrowful recol-
lection associated. Not being able to make much headway
on the common street-slopes, I had taken a fancy to neigh-
bor McLellan's front-steps, when they were heaped with
snow. They were not more than three feet high, or, at the
most, four; though I had an impression, till I saw them after
my return from abroad, that they were high enough to be
dangerous, and therefore to justify the course of my good
uncle James with me.
Finding me, one day, just on the point of lanching my
sled from the top of this elevation, he pulled me up short,
and assured me in a way peculiar to himself, that if he caught
me sliding on anybody's steps again, he would take my sled
away, and split it up, and burn it. Hardly had he turned the
corner, before I was up, and at it once more. Happening to
look round, he caught me in the act, and, being a man of his
word — he had also been a school-master, and a great disci-
plinarian -- my poor sled was taken away, split in pieces, and
burned before my face -- the monster! -- and I never had
another. I am afraid I have never quite forgiven him to this
day, though he has been dead thirty years, and meant to
INCIDENTS OF CHILDHOOD.
make me his heir; but dying in a hurry, as old bachelors
often do, he failed to carry out his avowed intentions, and I
lost a handsome estate a loss, by the way, which I never
felt a twentieth part as much as I did the loss of my little
rough-and-tumble pine-sled.
Long after this, when I had reached the age of ten or
eleven, I had another experience of a similar nature. Next
my mother's in Fish - Street, now called Exchange-Street,
lived a Widow Deering. The back addition to her house had
a low, sloping roof, which I took a prodigious fancy to, for a
variety of reasons. One was, that I could mount a laige
cane at the end of the ridge-pole and slide down, at a tre-
mendous pace, to the very edge of the roof; and from thence
leap to the platform, without much risk. To be sure, the
noise I made was terrific: you would have thought a hurri-
cane had got among the old shingles, and was ripping them
off, by the wheelbarrow-load. The Widow Deering was a
kind-hearted, patient woman; but she could not bear every-
thing, even from a neighbor's boy about as mischievous a
little wretch as ever breathed, I dare say, though not abso-
lutely vicious nor heartless; and so she gave my good uncle
a hint, I suppose. He had a private insurance-office just
over the way, where the wealthiest men of their time used to
congregate, as underwriters and gossips, and where I was then
going through a "course of sprouts” with my uncle. It was
only in the three R's of the Irishman, however -- 6 Reading,
Riting, and ’Rethimetic”-and- nothing more.
Calling me up, he questioned me about my horsemanship
on the widow's roof, and about the cane; and taking it from
me, with a cuff or two, which set my head ringing like a
brass kettle, he put it away behind some old painted canvas
hangings, which had been there from time immemorial; cer-
tainly from the time of the old Indian wars, if we might be-
lieve the stories that were told about the talks held there,
when it was the council-chamber of Massachusetts-Bay.
They were the first I ever saw, and the last; and I can recall
the trees and blue waters, and the birds, and the squirrels,
and the bright, clear sky, as if I had seen them but the other
day. Perhaps my uncommon relish for painting, and espe-
cially for landscape, originated there. But to return: before
**
.
..
.
....
28
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
the sound of my good uncle's footsteps died away, I had got
possession of the cane, and was careering down that roof,
with more vehemence than ever, almost ripping off the
shingles as I went; and fully persuaded that I was not only
avenging myself, on my uncle aud the widow, for the cuffing
I had been favored with, but that I was showing off my
stood. N.B. I think so now; but I cannot understand how
I ever had the courage to disobey such a man, knowing him
as I did, without a moment's hesitation, and without regard
to consequences. That these were indications of a charac-
ter headstrong, adventurous, and rash, I must acknowledge.
But enough. Let us now try to follow out my experience
in elocution, or specchifying, from the time they first stood
me up on a table to astonish the Friends with “ Pity the
sorrows of a poor old man,” up to this very day; for I am
constantly called upon to make speeches, or to lecture upon
all sorts of subjects, vithout preparation. It may furnish a
hint hereafter, to the timid and bashful, who are troubled alike.
with self-distrust, and “with the nightmare moanings of An-
bition's breast." .
At the age of twelve, my education was completed. I
never went to school another day. With reading, writing,
and arithmetic I was familiar; but I had no knowledge of
geography, nor of English grammar, nor indeed of any one
of the numberless branches now taught in our common
schools. I was put behind a counter in a retail and jobbing
dry-goods establishment, kept by Munroe and Tuttle, at the
corner of Union and Middle Streets, where a silversmith
keeps now, and where my progress, for a while, was quite
- astonishing in all the tricks of the trade, as I may have occa-
sion to show hereafter.
I had been to a Quaker boarding-school at Windham,
where they starved and froze me for two long winters, and
Where I learned, to the best of my knowledge and belief, just
nothing at all; to a Quaker private school; to the town-
school, kept by Master Gregg and Master Patten ; to the
Portland Academy, when the late Dr. Payson was preceptor;
and, finally, to Master Moody's in Union Street. In both of
these two last-mentioned establishments, the 6 Columbian
INCIDENTS OF CHILDHOOD.
29
Orator” was a text-book; and elocution was taught in a way
I never shall forget — never !
We had a yearly exhibition at the academy, and the favor.
ites of the preceptor were allowed to speak a piece; and a
pretty time they had of it. Somehow, I was never a favorite
with any of my teachers, after the first two or three days;
and, as I went barefooted, I dare say it was thought unseemly,
or perhaps cruel, to expose me upon the platform. And then,
as I had no particular aptitude for public speaking, and no
relish for what was called oratory, it was never my luck to be
called up. Among my schoolmates, however, was one, a very
amiable, shy boy, to whom — partly on account of his good
clothes, I dare say, and partly on account of his father, one
of our wealthiest merchants -- was assigned, at the last exhibi-
tion I attended, that passage in Pope's Homer, beginning with.
“ Aurora, now fair daughter of the dawn.” This the poor
boy gave with so much emphasis and discretion, that, to me, it
sounded like “O roarer !” and I was wicked enough, out of
sheer envy, I dare say, to call him “ O roarer!” – a nickname
which clung to him for a long while, though no human being
ever deserved it less; for, in speech and action both, he was
quiet, reserved, and sensitive, as everybody who knew
Edward Cobb will acknowledge
My next experience in elocution was still more dishearten-
ing, so that I never had a chance of showing what I was ca-
pable of in that way, till I set up for myself. Master Moody
oratory. He was a large, handsome, heavy man, over six
feet high; and having understood that the first, second, and
third pre-requisite in oratory was action, the boys be put in
training were encouraged to most vehement and obstreper-
ous manifestations. Let ne give an example, and one that
weighed heavily on my conscience for many years after the
poor man passed away.
Among his pupils were two boys, brothers, named Simpson,
who were thought highly gifted in elocution. The master,
who was evidently of that opinion, had a habit of parading
them on all occasions before visitors and strangers; though
one had lost his upper front teeth and lisped badly, and the
other had the voice of a penny-trumpet. Week after week,
30
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
these two boys went through the quarrel of Brutus and Cassius,
for the benefit of myself and others, to see if their example
would not provoke us to a generous competition for all the
honors. How it operated on the other boys, in after life, I
cannot say; but the effect on me was decidedly unwholesome
-- discouraging indeed - until I was old enough to judge for
myself, and to carry into operation a system of my own; be-
lieving that men should always talk —I do not say they
should talk always on paper and off, on the platform and
at the bar, in the senate-chamber, and at the dinner-table--if
they would not forego all the advantages of experience in
private life, when they lanch into public life.
On coming to the passage, “ Be ready, gods, with all your
thunderbolts --- dash him in pieces !” the elder of the two
gave it after the following fashion : “ Be ready, godths, with all
your thunderbolths - dath him in pietheth!” — bringing his
right fist down into his left palm with all his strength, and his
lifted foot upon the platform, which was built like a sounding-
board, so that the master himself, who had suggested the ac-
tion, and obliged the poor boy to rehearse it, over and over
again, appeared to be utterly carried away by the magnificent
demonstration; while to me - so deficient was I in rhetorical
taste -- it sounded like the crash of broken crockery, inter-
mingled with chicken-peeps. I never got over it; and, to this
day, cannot endure stamping, nor even tapping with the foot,
although it be with the delicate emphasis of our friend
Everett, when prodigiously in earnest - for him ; nor clap-
ping the hands together, nor thumping the table for illustra-
tion; having an idea that such noises are not oratory, and
that untranslatable sounds are not language.
My next essay was of a somewhat different kind. I took
the field in person, being in my nineteenth year, well-propor-
tioned, and already beginning to have a sincere relish for
poetry, if not for declamation; the best I had ever heard, at
the time, having been that of a large, handsome English
woman, who recited .“ Alexander's Feast” with astonishing
power, and not a little grace.
I had always been a great reader, from my earliest recollec-
tion, reading, year after year, almost every thing that fell in
my way, except newspapers ; but all this I must withhold
INCIDENTS OF CHILDHOOD. :
31
for a chapter by itself. And, in the course of my foraging
depredations, I had met with “ The Sailor Boy's Dream,” and
the “ Lake of the Dismal Swamp," both of which I had com-
mitted to memory before I knew it; for I was never much
gifted in that way, and to this hour could not repeat half a
dozen consecutive lines of my own poetry, if my life depended
on it; although I can follow a dozen speakers, day after day,
without taking a note, and remember the substance of all they
say, and sometimes their very language, so as to be able to
reply to their arguments, without blundering or misrepresenta-
tion. And one day, happening to be alone with my sister,
and newly rigged out in a student's gown, such as the lads at
Brunswick sported, when they came to show off among their
old companions -- though mine was of Scotch gingham, instead
of calico, lıighly glazed, and stiff and rustling, like heavy silk,
when I moved, and the plaid was full six inches square and
of the richest colors — I proposed to astonish her by rehears-
ing these two poems in appropriate costume. Being very
proud of her brother, and very obliging, she consented at
once, upon the condition, however, that our dear mother, who
had never seen any thing of the sort, should be invited to
make one of the audience. On the whole, I rather think that
I succeeded in astonishing both. I well remember their looks
of amazement — for they had never seen any thing better, or —
worse — in all their lives, and were no judges of acting — as
I swept to and fro in that magnificent robe, with outstretched
arms and uplifted eyes, when I came to passages like the fol-
lowing, where an apostrophe was called for:--
" Through tangled juniper, beds of weeds,
Through many a fen where the serpent feeds,
And man ne'er trod before:
And near him the she-wolf stirred the brake,
And the copper-snake breathed in his ear,
Till, starting, he cried, from his dream awake,
Oh! when shall I see the dusky lake,
And the white canoe of my dear?!"-
certainly among the finest passages ever written by Moore,
and altogether above the best of his later compositions, except
a few lines in “ Lallah Rookh,” where, as a midnight torrent
32
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS..
LC
pours through the gorges of a mountain,“sweeping the flocks
and herds,” a tiger,
“Chases them down their thundering way;
Bloodying the stream he has not power to stay."
Or like this:
“O sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy shade!
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow,
Of thy fair vellow hair threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansion below" –
throwing up my arms, and throwing them out, in every possi-
ble direction, as the spirit moved me, or the sentiment
prompted ; for I have always encouraged my limbs and feat-
ures to think for themselves, and to act for themselves, and
never predetermined — never forethought - a gesture, nor
an intonation, in all my life; and should as soon think of
counterfeiting another's look, or step, or voice, or of modulat-
ing my own by a pitch-pipe - as the ancient orators did, with
whom oratory was acting-elocution, a branch of the dramatic
art — as of adopting or imitating the gestures or tones of the
most celebrated rhetorician I ever saw.
The result was quite encouraging. My mother and sister
were both satisfied. At any rate, they said nothing to the
contrary. Being only in my nineteenth year, what might I
not be able to accomplish after a little more experience ?
My intonations, I know, were good; for they were natural ;
natural to myself, I mean, and essentially characteristic, I am
sure. My gesticulation, too, was both graceful and free,
though left-handed for a long while, and somewhat superflü-
ous; and my reading, on the whole, what I should give now,
with fifty odd years of experience, though entirely unlike
that of any other person I ever heard, in reciting poetry.
Declamation I abhor; acting I abominate, in description or
narrative; impersonation is one thing, representation quite
another; and story-telling, or narrative, another. Yet are
they generally confounded. Never shall I forget the cele-
brated Ogilvie's rendering of these two lines by Walter Scott:
“Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!
Were the last words of Marmnion."
INCIDENTS OF CHILDHOOD.
33
As he drew near to the end of the poem, he prepared for
the catastrophe, by deliberately throwing himself down, with
his whole length upon the stage, where he gave the last five
lines, not as if he were describing the battle, in the language
of another; but as if he were Marmion himself, and the
author too. In other words, the poor fellow, who was really
a fine rhetorician, and a beautiful declaimer, according to the
conventionalities of the school, misunderstood acting for nar-
rative, impersonation for story-telling, representation for
speech. But others do this -- and others of great reputa-
tion. There was Edmund Kean, for example, who, in play-
ing Richard, always barked and yelped, when he came to the -
dog-passage; and, in Sir Giles Overreach, always how-ow-
owled! -- when he complained of the wolves for howling at
him, to the unspeakable delight of the illuminati and stage
critics. And our own Cooper used to give the passage from -
Macbeth, --
“Shall plead like angels, trumpet-tongued!
'Gainst the deep damnation of his taking off," —
as if he had a trumpet in his throat, literally imitating the
voice of a trumpet, and prolonging the sound, tr-er-er-er-
umpet! -- until the groundlings were half-crazy with wonder.
The only public reader I ever knew, who did not sometimes,
if not always, confound narrative with representation, was
Mr. Smart, of London, who used to appear in the Argyle
rooms — by far the best dramatic reader I ever heard in my
life, and altogether superior to Thelwall, who inoculated the
whole British Parliament, Lords and Commons, and about
ninety-nine out of every hundred of their orators and
platform speakers —- barristers, advocates, and preachers —
with his peculiar intonation, till Mr. George Canning and
Mr. Brougham and Sir Francis Burdett were almost the only
distinguished men of their day, who had voices of their own,
or intonations of their own, upon great public occasions,
though it were but an after-dinner speech; and the Rev.
Mr. Raffles, of Liverpool, and Rowland Hill, Dr. Chalmers,
Robert Hall, and Edward Irving were almost the only
preachers who did not appear to have cast aside all their
natural, distinguishing characteristics and idiosyncrasies, and
34
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
all their individuality of modulation, in obedience to the fash-
ion of the hour. Of the hour! no: of the age; for something
of it remains to this day, and may still be hoard, even among
ourselves, from such of our platform-speakers, and pulpit and
parliamentary orators, as had their training at Harvard, under
Dr. Jonathan Barber, a favorite pupil of Thelwall. And to
this hour, you may detect it in some of the finest passages
you ever hear from George Thompson, or Wendell Phillips;
both artificial speakers and rhetoricians, though earnest and
t·loquent, and exceedingly captivating. Would that we might
have a little more naturalness, a little more of the hearty
wholesome individuality of each ; and we might well forgive
the training of both.
But we must draw rein, and prepare for another chapter,
wherein our later experiences may be detailed.
GLIMMERING PHANTASAGORIA. :
35.
CHAPTER IV.
GLIMMERING PHANTASMAGORIA; MORE INCIDENTS
OF CHILDHOOD.
BALTIMORE TELEGRAPH; MAIDEN SPEECH; PREPARATIONS FOR THE BAR;
PRIVATE THEATRICALS; THE DELPHIANS.
Dec. 8, 1866.- Our fine weather still continues, the finest
I ever knew for the season, and the most favorable for build-
ing. We have rain almost every night, beginning after the
day's work is over, and clearing off before laborers begin
anew in the morning; and then we have it almost always
clear and pleasant. Of course, I have my hands full, and
this little book must continue to drag its slow length along," -
until I have time to rest awhile, and look about, and bethink
myself of what may be most enduring, and most palatable;
for I shall probably never write another, unless, to be sure, I
should happen to tip over the crucible, in which a vast accu-
mulation of what I should call, if it belonged to another, the
golden ore of poetry, has been seething and simmering for
the last five or six years.
Portland is going up - not as on the last Fourth of July,
in a chariot of fire, but with the calm, stately movement, and
occasional magnificence, that we should look for in a material
resurrection. Already, we are talking about lending the
credit of the city to those who are not quite able to build
without help; issuing bonds for a long period, supplying a
proportion of what help may be needed, at a fair, indemnify-
ing interest, and taking mortgages for security. The project
is worthy of our most enterprising, liberal, and sagacious men
of business, with whom it originated ; and, rightly managed,
must succeed, just as a similar movement did, in favor of the
Atlantic and St. Lawrence Railway - now the Grand Trunk
- which, but for this timely help, might never have been built,
and which has so accelerated our growth, and so strengthened
36
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
us, without any unhealthy stimulus, that our population has
doubled, and our taxable valuation trebled, since the road was
opened.
By the way — among the incidents of my earliest child-
hood are two, which I intended to mention, but forgot, in my
hurry to close the chapter, and which I want off my mind.
My grandfather had a farm-hand who took a great fancy to
me, and when I was not more than two years old, or at the
most two and a half — judging by the facts I have already
mentioned — he made me a kitten-yoke, and gave me a pair
of the prettiest kittens I ever saw : I have seen nothing like
them since. How long I played with them, I do not remem-
ber; nor do I know what became of them; but they disap-
peared quite suddenly one day, and I have heard nothing of
them since. Undoubtedly, they went the way of all kittens,
after they begin to overstock the market; but to me it was a
great mystery: and if the poor little things had been caught
up, while I was playing with them, and whisked off out of
sight, by hawk or buzzard, or if they had vanished into thin
air while I was watching them, yoke and all, I should not
have been more puzzled, nor astonished. Only one other
case of perplexity do I remember that will compare with
this; and I must acknowledge that, for a long while, I had
no faith in the explanations that were offered me. There
came up one bright summer afternoon, toward nightfall, a
prodigious hail-storm — the first I had ever seen, or heard of.
Being always inquisitive and much in earnest, I gathered a
wooden dish full of the little white beacs, before they missed
me from the porch ; and hid it away where nobody would be
likely to stumble over it. But, alas ! when I went for my
little treasure, instead of the white beads, or seed-pearl, I had
gathered by handfuls, I found nothing but a little dirty water.
It was in vain they told me that my hailstones had melted ;
I did not believe them, and I could not. And as I grew older,
and came to hear about hailstones and coals of fire mingled
together, it seemed still more unlikely; for I had seen noth-
ing that resembled coals of fire, and if there was any light-
ning, I do not remember it. To me, it was like the manna
gathered by the children of Israel, without permission -- a
little round thing that wouldn't keep. Trivial though such
GLIMMERING PHANTASMA GORIA.
incidents may be in themselves, yet, if they are remembered
to the last by an aged man, they must have had their influ-
ence upon the child — at an age, too, when the slightest
touch may outlast both engraving and sculpture. If I may
trust my memory, the loss of my sled, the loss of my kitten-
yoke and little steers, and the loss of my seed pearl, were the
sorest of my trials, up to the age of twelve; though I was
once whipped by my grandfather to make me remember what
I very soon forgot — so severely that others remembered it
for me a long while, though I did not. It seems that I was
playing on the floor with an open penknife; that my dear
old grandmother, who was bedridden at the time, and had
been so for many a long year, insisted on my giving it into
her hand. I refused, pretending not to hear, and feeling
pretty safe on account of her helplessness; but she persisted,
until I flung the knife at her — the point of which hit one of
the glasses of her spectacles, and shivered it in pieces. For
this — instead of skinning me alive, as he might have been
justified in doing, by many a school-master — he took me out
into the wood-house, where I had, not long before, put away
my wooden dish of seed pearl, and there trounced me as I
deserved, I hope; telling me, from time to time, that he guessed
I should remember that knife the longest day I had to live.
But the old gentleman was mistaken. Whether I made it a
point to forget the whole affair — knife, spectacles, and whip-
ping - before I slept, I cannot say; but I remember when I
first heard the story from aunt Ruth Neal, I believe that it
had “ gone from me," like Nebuchadnezzar's dream, and I
thought it must have happened to some other little boy. And
should remember so distinctly the freshet and the speechifying,
and wholly forget the loss of my poor toe — or the cut, rather,
whereby I came so near losing it — and the whipping I have
mentioned. What are the laws of association with children
of that age, I should like to know?
And here two other trifling incidents occur to me, which
I distinctly remember, while others of much greater compar-
ative importance are wholly forgotten. For example, I re-
member one day, when somebody was carding a heap of
black wool in the kitchen, seeing what I supposed to be a
38
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
stray lock under the table, that I stooped for it; and when I
reached out my hand, it ran away ; and then they told me
that I came near catching a nousie. A mousie! I had
never heard of such a creature; and the mortification I felt,
on being laughed at, for my astonishing ignorance, I never shall
forget in this world, I am sure. At another time, they were
cruel enough to scream with laughter, on seeing me horse one
of my little short legs over the other, and begin to nurse it
before a lot tire, as my grandfather and all the Friends, who
wore breeches and woollen stockings, were in the habit of do-
ing by the hour. But enough.
Trifles, or what serious men would call trifles, often deter-
mine our course of action for a while, and sometimes for life.
The more headlong.our speed, the more perfect our adjust-
ment, the more casily are we thrown out of gear and groove.
A pebble or a touch may throw a long train of cars off the
track, while it is running sixty miles an hour, when a drove
of cattle would not, if it were going slowly. Trifling mortifi-
cations have caused me more lasting disquietude than the
heaviest and sorest calamities.
How little did I think — to go back once more to the last
stopping-place, where I began to wood up - how little did I
think, while rehearsing the two poems mentioned in my last,
before my mother and sister, that any thing serious would ever
come of it, or that I was laying the foundations of character for
life, or that I was beginning what I should not be able to finish
within the next forty or fifty years following. Yet so it was.
I had broken the ice, without knowing it; and all the glimmer-
ing phantasmagoria. I have mentioned, were but the foreshad-
owing of what happened long afterward. As indications of
character, they should not be overlooked, any more than the
spontaneous growth of a strauge soil that we may desire to
become acquainted with.
Not long after this outbreak, when I burst away from the
hidling-place I had so long occupied, into the flowery region
of poetry and rhetoric, I left the employment of Mr. George
Hill, who kept a retail haberdashery in Muzzey's Row, front-
ing Union Street, Portland, and went into a sort of copartner-
ship with a Mr. Rockwell, a Connecticut writing-master, who
wandered about the country, teaching penmanship in twelve
GLIMMERING PHANTASMAGORIA.
39
lessons, for which he received five dollars, and was constantly
occupied, all day long and every evening, with large classes ; .
having supplanted Wrifford entirely.
He was indeed a most beautiful penman, the best I ever
met with for large hand, German text, printing, flourishing,
and the ornamental branches, including swans and eagles, for
which he was unrivalled; but his running-hand, though clear
as copper-plate, wanted freedom and ease, and all that should
characterize mercantile penmanship, or a business hand, for
which, by the way, I was already quite celebrated. He took-
a prodigious fancy to my style, and I to his; out of which
grew the relationship above referred to, which lasted just
long enough to satisfy me that I was in the hands of a sharp-
er; and that, in leaving a salary of eighty dollars a year and
my board, for the five hundred a year guaranteed me by my
new friend, I was jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire,
and was not likely to see much more of the world than I
ness with great zeal, and opened cry at Brunswick, with a
class from the college, and quite a number of private inquir-
ers; some of whom had never had a pen in their hands. Yet
with one, the wife of my landlord, a woman of thirty-five or
forty, I succeeded so well, that, at the end of her twelve lessons,
she was not only able to write her name so that her husband
could read it, after boggling over it for a few moments, but so
that she could read it herself without help, when it was writ-
ten at full length, in large letters. From this hour, my repu-
tation was established. I was in great favor with the young
people wherever I appeared, and for a while, every thing went
smoothly enough. One exception, however, occurs to me. I
was at Brunswick on the Fourth of July; on the fifth I went
to call upon a niece of Dr. Page. On entering the room,
where I heard female voices in full cry, there was a terrific
scream, and then a crash, as if the floor had given way under
my feet — and then another, and another, as I tried to save
myself. The room was dark, and the floor was literally cov-
ered with wine-glasses and tumblers and pitchers, without in-
cluding myself. This faux pas — I hate French where Eng-
lish may be had - cost me a pretty penny, when I could
ill afford to be lavish even of pennies ; but I carried it off
40
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
with an air, so that nobody suspected my deplorable condi-
tion.
It was here at Brunswick, in the north front parlor of a
two-story frame-house, yet standing, and then called, if I do
not mistake, the “ Stoddard House,” that I made my second
essay in rhetoric, or rather in declamation. The weather
was warm and sultry, and my student's gown was a real
comfort, being both new and showy; and so, after school-
hours, I would saunter off toward the Falls, and loiter away
an hour or two, where my splendid out-fit never failed to be
received with unbounded applause. Nothing like it had ever
been seen in that part of the world, nor, as I now believe,
in any other. But this did not satisfy me. I was made for
something better; I was no longer a shop-boy. I had turned
ny back upon the mysteries of retailing, and felt inclined to
set up for myself — I cared little how, and not much where;
and when the larger students, who were undergoing pen-
manship with me, would drop in, after the labors of the day
were over, to have a little gossip over the pretty girls of
Portland -- who were just beginning to make a noise in the
world, which, between ourselves, they have kept up ever
since -- I soon found that I was getting to be an acknowl-
edged institution. But we could not always talk about the
girls, much as the boys seemed to desire it; and so, one swel-
tering afternoon - I remember it well-I undertook to
astonish them, “ by particular desire," as I had my mother and
sister, with the "Sailor Boy's Dream,” and Moore's “ Dis-
mal Swamp.”
And I succeeded again ; for they assured me with all seri-
ousness — I wonder how they kept their countenances - but,
then, they were young, and had no great experience of the
world — that they had never heard any thing like it before ;
and I believed them — as I do at this day, though for a differ-
ent reason perhaps. I had taken care to have all “my sing-
ing robes" about me in their newest gloss, before I struck the
first attitude, and saw plainly, long before I had got through,
that I was making a profound impression of some sort. I did
not stop to inquire what, nor have I since; for they went
away whispering together, and occasionally nudging one
another as they passed my window, and soon brought others
GLIMMERING PEANTASMAGORIA.
41
:
to hear me. So much for “my first appearance on any
stage.” The next was, or came near being, a début, with a
vengeance. Let me give the particulars.
I was living in Portsmouth, New Hampshire; having
abandoned penmanship, drawing, and the manufacture of In-
dian-ink miniatures - which yielded a pretty return, after I
found out, that, with a few trifling alterations, I could sell
what were left on my hands to almost anybody else of the
same sex, and about the same age, so much alike were they
- and had gone back behind the counter once more, and
was the head-clerk and chief bottle-washer, or salesman, of
Mr. James Rundlet; one of the wealthiest and worthiest
of our Portsmouth business men, and brother-in-law of the
Mr. Hill I had been with in Portland. He had taken a fancy
to me long before, he said, from a little circumstance, which I
had forgotten.
Here, after I had been settled about six months, a number
of the young fashionables of the day took it into their heads
- I know not why, for I had never undertaken to astonish
them with my representations, or misrepresentations, which,
after all, may be the true reason — that I was made for
an actor, that I must have seen a great deal of the world,
and was gifted with uncommon dramatic aptitude. And so,
after holding a consultation with all the noisy little romps we
were acquainted with, and for which Portsmouth was already
famous — pretty girls were they, who, for lack of something
better to do, used to parade the streets after dark, and espe-
cially on moonlight evenings, linked arm in arm, and hustle
strangers off the sidewalk, and were even said to have held a
little dapper parson, who had just been settled there, under
the nose of a pump, till he consented never to betray their
names, whatever he might choose to reveal of their pranks
(the gentleman is now a D.D., and enjoys the reputation
he has obtained, with so much self-complacency, that I dare
not give his name) — they organized an association; and being
encouraged by the leading fathers of the town, they put
“ Douglas," and the “ Beau's Stratagema” in rehearsal, assign-
ing to me — to me! — who had never seen a play but once in all
my life, nor the inside of a theatre but twice; the first time
when I was not over eight or ten years of age, and had ob-
42
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
tained, rather unfairly, I must acknowledge, the consent of my
poor mother, who thought I was only making believe, to see
" Blue Devils," “ by particular desire,” from which representa-
tion, I was lugged off by the ears between two of her Friends,
before I had time to see any thing more than a heavy green
baize curtain, with a candle moving behind it, which I mis-
took for a star, and two personages, male and female, one of
whom bothered me beyond expression by saying, me father ;
and the second time, after I had run up to manhood, when I
saw Mr. Duff play " Rolla," and " Tekeli,” both on the same
night, much to my gratification, though he was exceedingly
obstreperous — ay, to me, with my limited experience, they
assigned the part of Glenalvon, which nobody but George
Frederick Cooke had ever been able to do any thing with, and
that of Captain Beauregard, in the “ Beau's Stratagem" if I
do not mistake the play ---- a dashing military gentleman, who,
among other pleasantries, not much in my way, as a Quaker,
was obliged to sing two or three songs — a business for which
I was about as well qualified but this must be between our-
selves -- as the poor country boy, who, when he betook him-
self to the old empty garret for the purpose of trying on
“Old Hundred," by himself, without being laughed at, as he
had been before, both at the singing-school, and in the hay-
mow, had a message from the old gentleman below -- mean-
ing his father -- to the effect that he never allowed anybody
under his roof to saw boards on the sabbath.
Nevertheless, we were not discouraged ; and our rehears-
als were continued, by piecemeal, week after week, until we
were alınost ready for the public. For Lady Randolph, we
had Austin, a very pleasant young geutleman, with quite a
womanly carriage, and a thin, piping voice, which he turned
to good account in the wailing passages. I remember the
modulation perfectly to this day, as he gave -
“Ye woods and wilds, whose melancholy gloon
Accords with my soul's sadness,
Within your shades I deem somie spirit dwells
That hears and answers to Matilda's moan,"
and could give it now, as I could that of young Norval, whose
representative, Mr. John Sheafe, had just returned from see-
GLIMMERING PHANTASMAGORIA.
43
ing the part performed by Master Paine, the young American
Roscius, in almost every passage, from -
“We soon o'ertook the spoil-encumbered foe:
We fought and — conquer-en-en-ered!
Ere a sword was drawn, an arrow from my bow
Had pierced their chief, who wore that day the arms
Which now I wear" -
to-“Never before stood I in such a presence;”... “Re-
turning homeward from Messinas port, a rude and boisterous
captain of the sea fastened a quarrel on him ” — and up to
the catastrophe, where he says faintly, and with his dying
breath, “ The villain came behind me~ but I slew him !” —
all which were literal transcripts of Master Paine, after he
had been thoroughly trained by Fennel.
My part was fully committed :— and so indeed was I — up to
the grand rehearsal, the very last before we were to let in the
outsiders, it seemed to be well received ; especially in the pas-
sages I tried to make the most of, such for example as —
“So! Lady Randolph loves him!
By and by I'll woo her as the lion woos his bride!”
and this :-
“Burning Hell!
This were thy centre, if I thought she loved him!”
which I gave with prodigious effect, staring at the floor, as
if I saw through it, with my body bent forward, and both
hands pressed convulsively upon what I then believed to be
the region of the heart. I came near bringing down the plat-
form, if not the house: the result of which last grand re-
hearsal was, that the parts were changed, and mine was given
to a Mr. Harris, a tall, handsome fellow, with black eyes, the
whites of which were terribly conspicuous, under the direc-
tion of Mr. Sheafe, who had seen Cooke, and was quite sure
that the parting look he gave in some of his exits was the
ne plus ultra of tragic power. But the idea of a public rep-
resentation was abandoned: the whole thing fell through ;
and I went back to my retail business, with a feeling of satis-
faction I had vever before entertained.
I may as well add, perhaps, that here, too, I had all my
“ singing robes” about me — meaning the student's robe I have
44
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
mentioned, when I thundered and lightened, and marched and
countermarched, through that soliloquy. Hence much of the
effect, I am sure. I did not then know, having only seen Mr.
Duff, that soliloquies are not to be declaimed, though they
almost always are, even to this day. How strange! Off the
stage, we can always tell, by the modulation of his voice,
whether a man in the next room is talking to himself hon-
estly and fairly, or only making believe. We cannot be
deceived: we should never mistake imitation or counterfeit,
for the truth, were we to overhear a lunatic or a street-
walker.
That particular modulation is never heard upon the stage;
but we have accepted a conventional tone, so that stage
soliloquies are but rehearsals or declamations. A blind man,
overhearing them, would know for a certainty that the speaker
was not alone, and was not talking to himself.
At the time I speak of, I was in my twentieth year, well
grown, active, and alert; ambitious, too, and not easily dis-
couraged ; anxious to “do, I knew not what,” like old Lear,
with no idea of what I was good for, or capable of.
As for what is called oratory, or elocution rather, I
knew it was in me; and, like Sheridan, I was determined “ to
have it out” and the sooner, the better. Still no opportunity
offered, until I was a member of the Delphian Club at Balti-
more, when I had reached the age of twenty-three, or there-
abouts. Our treasury being low, we set the members talking
and writing, to entrap them into forfeitures, under one pre-
tence or another. Most of us tried our hand at what our
secretary called ex-trumpery speaking; but we found it
wouldn't pay, though we did. All of us fell short of what
might have been reasonably expected — all who made the
attempt, I should say; for two or three of the brethren had
large experience at the bar, General Winder being an accom-
plished advocate, and William Gwinn, and Breckinridge, re-
spectable attorneys, to say nothing of Mr. Pierpont, my old
partner in business; but, after all, I rather think mine was
the most pitiable failure, because too much was expected of
me. I was then studying law with General Winder, and my
best friends did not seem to know that an after-supper speech
cannot be made by the unpractised speaker, any more than
GLIMMERING PHANTASMAGORIA.
45
T
an after-dinner speech; that pleasantry and playfulness are
the after growth of great experience, much trial, and many a
failure; that among the last acquirements of an orator are the
readiness and self-possession we must have in familiar talk,
and a frank, free, conversational style, standing up.
For the purpose of replenishing our treasury, we set a
variety of traps for the brethren. One was to limit their
speeches to three minutes, or five — I forget which — and to
fine them, if they passed over the time, though they were not
allowed to look at a watch; another was to oblige all who
spoke, to speak for just three minutes, at their peril, on the
same conditions. But this fell through, after a brief trial; and
our forced contributions were obtained on easier terms, amount-
ing at last to “ stand and deliver !”
And this reminds me of a little incident which happened
about the time we were trying to raise the wind, without
going at once on the highway. Two or three of us Delphians
were dining at the house of a friend. On the table was a
plate of hard crackers, or biscuit. Some talk was had about
the difficulty of swallowing them, without the help of water.
Somebody declared that it would be impossible for any human
being to eat five of these little crackers, without drinking.
6 But in how long a time?” said our President, Pertinax
Particular. “In five minutes," was the answer. “I'll bet
you half a dozen of wine," said the President, firing up, as
only Dr. Tobias Watkins could fire up, on such an occasion,
he being a capital surgeon, and valuing himself especially on
all that concerned deglutition, physiology, anatomy, and all
the rest of the sciences, — “I'll bet you half a dozen that I
can eat five of those biscuit — not crackers, if you please —
biscuit, sir, biscuit - within five minutes, and without drink-
ing a drop." -“ Done! -- and who shall time you?” — “The
Vice-President.” — “Agreed.” And so Mr. Pierpont, our
Vice-President, lugged out his watch, and sat, with one elbow
on the table, and with eyes fixed upon its face, while
Watkins went to work. The first two or three were soon
disposed of; but the fourth began to be troublesome, and
long before he had got through with the fifth, he began to
breathe short, to grow very red in the face, and to shift
about in his chair, as if undergoing strangulation. At last,
46
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
after two or three convulsive gasps, with his eyes fixed upon
Mr. Pierpont, he succeeded in swallowing the last mouthful;
and, springing from his chair, he asked, in a voice so husky
as to be almost inaudible, how long he had been at work.
“ Just six minutes and a half;" said Mr. Pierpont, without
a change of countenance.
And then wasn't there a shout! I never heard men laugh
more heartily, nor, if I must own up, more unfeelingly. The
poor doctor was almost beside himself with suppressed rage:
he couldn't see the joke — not he; and, while he sat puffing
and blowing, seemed to believe, almost, that he had been
cruelly betrayed, and perhaps cheated. Nor do I believe
that he ever forgot or forgave the trick, to his dying day,
though he was one of the most amiable men I ever knew,
and eminently good-natured, but a man who could not bear
to be laughed at. This anecdote will give some idea of how
the Delphians passed their “learned leisure," how I prepared
for the bar, and how I studied elocution.
After this — a long while after, I should say now — having
been admitted to the bar, I was engaged for the defence of a
man charged with receiving stolen goods, knowing them to
be stolen. It was my first case; and I had been retained, and
not only retained, but handsomely feed, at the suggestion of
the late Colonel Edes, of the Baltimore - Telegraph," who was
- actually paying me at the time about five hundred dollars a
year, with board in his family, for my editorial help on that
paper.
And here I achieved my maiden speech, without prepa-
ration — that is, without premeditation, for I was master of
all the facts, and all the law, and if I had been called upon
to argue the case in writing, or in my seat, I believe the
poor fellow would have been set free; but having to stand up
in a crowded court-room, with the eyes of all my brethren
of the bar fixed upon me, and the outsiders who knew some-
thing of my past life, and were expecting altogether too much,
leaning forward with eager countenances — and all about me
silent as death - I managed, in about fifteen minutes after I
rose, to make a fool of myself, to so muddle the case that
nobody understood it, and to send my unhappy client to the
penitentiary — out of which he was pardoned, upon such
GLIMMERING PHANTASMAGORIA.
a representation of the facts as I could have put in writing,
upon the spot, in fifteen minutes. So much for iny maiden
speech. One of my best friends, and sincerest admirers, took
the earliest opportunity, of saying, just as if he were only
reporting the settled opinion of others, if not of the public at
large, that, whatever else I might do, I should never be able
to make a speech.
Whereupon, I determined to disappoint them all; but I
was in no hurry. I had a theory of my own, wholly opposed
to that which prevailed everywhere at the time, and a theory
which I have since verified; but of all this, hereafter. And
I have only to add, that, with unpremeditated speaking, as with
languages, literature, law, and poetry, the mere spirit of con-
tradiction — the desire to do what my best friends believed
me incapable of — has done more for me than any and all
other influences which have been brought to bear upon my
character. Up to the age of threescore, it was enough for
any man I respected, to show that he did not believe me
quite equal to any undertaking, no matter what, to set me all
agog, till I had succeeded in disappointing, to my advantage,
even those of my friends who had the highest opinion of me.
The truth is, that I never failed where success depended
wholly upon myself, and not often where it depended partly
upon others.
After this, and upon all questions arising suddenly before
the court, where I had no time for preparation, I managed
to make myself pretty well understood, and got something of
a reputation, as at least a well-read lawyer; though it so
happened that I never had a fair opportunity of addressing
a jury, upon any important cases, till after I had been abroad.
Such were the delays, and such the hindrances, that we might
as well have been in chancery, most of the time, as in our
Maryland courts of common law; and our heaviest cases
were often hung up, or passed by, year after year.
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS,
CHAPTER V.
DEBATING SOCIETY; FIRST SPEECH.
DEFENCE OF QUALIFIED SLAVERY; WOMEN'S RIGHTS; LAW ARGUMENT
ON MAGNA CHARTA IN LONDON; DEBATES IN JEREMY BENTHAM'S LI-
BRARY; DILL, GROTE, ROEBUCK, AND OTHERS; LONDON DEBATING
SOCIETY; WOMEN'S RIGHTS.
T
Dec. 18, 1866. - At last, we have a downright noisy old-
fashioned snow-storm, beginning on Sunday night, and continu-
ing through Monday; so that, for the first time this fall, the
out-door work of our builders has had to be suspended. To-
day, the weather is clear and bright, and all our new hives
are swarming.
Oddly enough, what I have been predicting for the last
three months, without pretending to prophesy, has been ful-
filled to the letter. Having had a somewhat large experience
in building, many years ago, I used to foretell the weather,
and take the whole risk upon myself, year after year. After
much rain, of course, we might look for dry weather; and so, if
it had been very cold, we might well hope for warm weather;
humidity and temperature being subject to general laws.
This year, I ventured to assure my friends and neighbors, at
a time when they were most anxious, that we should prob-
ably have fine weather for building, up to the middle of De-
cember, with an occasional brief interruption, of course, but, .
in general, the very weather we wanted. Upon this belief I
acted, and so did others, who, not having understood the
grounds of my calculation, gave me credit for a foresight I
never claimed ; and now, as the weather changed so suddenly,
and we had our first snow-storm within the first hour after
we had passed the middle of December — that is, at nightfall
on the sixteenth, December having thirty-one days -- I am
looked upon as exceedingly weatherwise, and may yet be
consulted as an oracle, or at least as a quarterly barometer;
DEBATING SOCIETY; FIRST SPEECH.
49
so natural is it for odd coincidences to be mistaken for some-
thing more mysterious.
But to return. Just before I went abroad, I was invited
to join a debating society in Baltimore. I went once, and
once only. The question before the “ House” had arisen out
of the Missouri controversy. Oddly enough, though most of
the club were slaveholders, by themselves or by representation,
the tide seemed to be setting all one way, and against slavery.
This appealed to the spirit of contradiction I have referred
to. I could not bear to have such a great question go by
default; and sincerely questioned the moral courage of those
who maintained opinions in a debating club, which their daily
walk and conversation gave the lie to elsewhere. I was
resolutely and heartily opposed to slavery. They were not;
and their arguments were weak and frivolous. Before I
knew it, I was on my feet, and making my first speech in
public. I had always determined never to take the wrong
side of any question from choice, and never, when obliged to
take it, as a lawyer, to say what I did not believe; though I
might, and certainly should, urge the best arguments I could,
for others to answer.
On this particular occasion, though wholly unprepared and
taken by: urprise, I undertook to show, and really did show -
to my own satisfaction, at least -- that the definitions of sla-
very were false and preposterous; that a qualified bondage,
the bondage, that is, which prevailed in our country -- not the
bondage of the books, for that no longer existed anywhere
among civilized nations — might be -- observe! I did not say
was, but might be — both lawful and just, according to every
principle of law, national or municipal, notwithstanding the
negro Somerset case; and all that had been suggested by
Montesquieu and Grotius and Puffendorf, and other writers
on the law of nations, who had been liberally quoted. If
we could bind an apprentice for seven years, why not for
fourteen? - why not for life? If minor's could be held to a
qualified bondage, so that their earnings went to their parents,
for twenty-one years, under English law, and our law; and by
the Roman law, and through a large portion of Europe, for
twenty-five years, why not for fifty years ? - why not for
life? By what principle are the cases to be distinguished ?
50
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
If one be wrong - necessarily and always wrong, as an out-
rage upon man's nature -- how can the other be right? Can
the number of years make such a difference?
Who shall be the judge, when it is asked how long an
apprentice, a child, or a wife and here the great ques-
- tion of woman's rights and woman's wrongs, with all its tre-
mendous bearings, in all their maguitude, opened upon me, as
by a flash of lightning — when it is asked, how long they shall
be rendered by law incapable of acquiring, holding, or trans-
mitting property, except under special conditions, like the
slave?
Take the best and most comprehensive definition of slavery,
as you find it existing here, and you will be satisfied that one-
half of your whole white population that is, all your females,
--- are born to slavery, that they live in slavery, and are
dying in slavery; that is, in qualified bondage..
They are taxed without representation. They cannot hold
office. They are denied the right of suffrage. All their earu-
ings and savings, after marriage, belong to their husbands, or
masters, who make the law. They can neither acquire, hold,
nor transmit property, otherwise than as their masters, the
lawgivers, may prescribe; here, by the intervention of trustees;
and there, by some other roundabout, costly, and trouble-
some process. Why, then, are they not slaves, as much as
the blacks, though not often sold openly in the market? Are
they ever their own mistresses? Who makes the laws for
them? What would men say, if women had the upper hand,
and made such laws for them? Being taxed, would they be
satisfied with virtual representation, such as our fathers re-
belled against? with the distinctions between dower and
courtesy? While a husband takes all his wife's personal prop-
erty on marriage, and all the rents and profits of her real
property for life and the wife only one-third of her husband's
personal property, and that, not on marriage, nor during his
life, but only after his death, and one-third only of the rents
and profits of his real estate, after his death - what would
men say, if the condition were reversed, and they were dealt
with by law, as women now are? And how would they like
to be classed with infants, idiots, lunatics, and persons beyond
sea, as all married women are ? And how, if a husband killed
DEBATING SOCIETY; FIRST SPEECH.
51
his wife, to have it called petty treason, punishable by burning
and hanging (a law since altered, so that a woman who kills
her husband, an ecclesiastic his superior, or an apprentice
his master, is only drawn on a hurdle, and hanged, by Eng-
lish law), while if a wife killed her husband, it would be
only murder, punished by hanging only? And how would
they relish having such a code of morals established for women
as men have established for themselves -- their daughters and
sisters and wives turned loose upon the streets, while hus-
bauds and brothers and sons were held to a strict account for
every breach of propriety and morals? In a word, what
would men say, if the conditions were reversed, and men
were dealt with, as women are now?
If all these things are just and lawful, said I, while they
affect the qualified bondage of apprentices, minors, and mar-
ried women, why is not the qualified bondage that prevails
here, under the name of slavery, capable of being justified by
the principles of law — of English and American law, as
well as by the civil, canon, ecclesiastical, and Roman law ?
Thus I argued, and with all sincerity, so far as I went;
and the result, on the whole, was rather flattering than other-
wise. I had felt my ground, I had broken the ice, I had
satisfied myself that my theory was founded in common sense ;
that speechifying was childish, and talking, the most won-
derful exhibition of human power.
But I never tried my hand at another speech, nor even
at another serious talk, standing up, until I was more than
half-seas over, and found myself in England, where I was -
betrayed into another manifestation of what there was in me,
uuder the following circumstances.
I was taken one night to a club of English barristers,
among whom were half a dozen perhaps, quite renowned as
heavy speakers; meaning, as I understood, after a while, not
dull, ponderous speakers, but guns of a heavy calibre — line-
of-battle ships, not intended for privateering, or brilliant enter-
prise. With two or three of these, I had become acquainted,
as a reformer, and as a disciple of Jeremy Bentham, though
at the time we were strangers, notwithstanding my fainiliarity
with his labors, and were likely to remain so; for nobody I
had then met with could tell me where he was to be found,
D
52
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
nor whether he was living or dead, a Frenchman or an Eng-
lishman; all his later works, under the editorship of Dumont,
having appeared in French. By not a few, he was regarded
as a myth, somewhat resembling that old man of the sea, who
fastened himself upon poor Sinbad the sailor, and would have
been the death of him at last, if the disciple had not come to
his senses, like two or three of Bentham's great followers,
before it was too late, and flung his master. Others, too,
while professing the greatest admiration for his works on
jurisprudence, thought he must have been dead for a long
while, having been killed off by the wicked wits of the day,
Sydney Smith, Francis Jeffrey, and Christopher North.
Among these gentlemen of the robe were Mr. Hill, since
knighted — the originator of cheap postage; and, I believe, Mr.
Joseph Parkes, the celebrated Solicitor in Chancery, who
married a daughter of Dr. Priestley, and was one of the great
Birmingham radicals, an acknowledged leader among the
reformers, and a great friend of America.
In the course of the evening, a question arose, I know not
how, for it seemed to be sprung upon us; with a view to some-
thing I did not then quite understand. It related to a provi-
sion of Magna Charta, for the trial of offences by the vicinage,
or neighborhood; and involved another question, that of
“judge-made law," as Mr. Bentham called it. I know not
what possessed me; but, on being appealed to by the presi-
dent, I took the floor, and made a speech, or at least an argu-
ment, before I well knew what I was doing.
That I was taken by surprise, I must acknowledge; that a
trap was set for me, and pleasantly baited by the friend who
took me there, I had reason to believe, before I slept; but,
after all, the want of preparation was no disadvantage to me;
for while others who spoke, night have been prepared, all
could see that I was not
The question appeared to come up incidentally, somehow,
while we were talking about the use of English authorities
in all our American courts of law, from the highest to the
lowest. They knew that I was from Baltimore, and had a
vague notion that the Baltimore bar was crowded with lumi-
naries; William Pinkney, Luther Martin, Roger Taney,
Robert Goodloe Harper, William Wirt, General Winder,
DEBATING SOCIETY; FIRST SPEECH..
53
Reverdy Johnson, Charles F. Mayer, and half a score of
inferior intellectualities, being in their glory just then, or fast
rising to their meridian strength.
I had been provoked into saying that Westminster Hall
continued legislating for the United States.
“Legislating !” exclaimed two or three voices.
“Yes: legislating i for, by a system of interpretation,
whereby the jus dicere overpowers the plainest language, it.
absolutely repeals, among other things, one of the plainest
and wisest provisions of your Magna Charta.”
I was challenged to the proof, and replied in a brief speech,
somewhat as follows. I give the substance only. By the
great charter of your English liberties, wrung from John by
the Barons of Runnymede,
“Who carved at their meal
With gloves of steel,
And drank the red wine through helmets barred,"
it was provided, that all offences should be tried by the
vicinage, or neighborhood, it being safer for the innocent, and
more to be dreaded by the guilty, as acknowledged by all your
writers on jurisprudence.
But, after a while, the judges of Westminster Hall took a
position which repealed the provision, so far as it related to
one of the most common and troublesome offences, that of
larceny.
Here the heavy gentlemen about me began whispering
together; and my friend grew uneasy, thinking I had got
beyond my depth. I saw it in his eyes.
* But how! how was it done, pray ?” asked one of the
heaviest, and the most learned of the whole.
“ By what Jeremy Bentham calls judge-made law; that is,
by interpretation," said I.
" By interpretation ! "
“Even so. It was decided by your highest courts of law,
that, in larceny, possession was a new taking; and that, there-
fore, if the thing were taken in the county of A. and the
thief carried it with him into the county of B., C., or D., he
might be tried in B., C., or D., as well as in A., thereby re-
pealing one of the wisest, best, and most salutary of all the
provisions to be found in that great charter, so far as larceny
is concerned.
54
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Here looks were interchanged between two or three of the
leaders, whereby I was encouraged to go a step further.
“Nor did the mischief stop here. In your North Amer-
ican possessions, where Magna Charta was regarded as the
very Bible of the law, this interpretation was accepted without
a word of complaint or remonstrance, without remorse or
shame, though fundamentally weakening what every English-
man regards as the bulwark of his liberties.
“And what next? So profoundly were we imbued with
reverence for your "judge-made law,' so unquestionable
was our submission, that after we had set up for ourselves,
and begun to adopt constitutions and Bills of Right, for out-
works that were never to be abandoned, never to be over-
leaped nor passed, and, using the plainest language, adopted
the same wise provision —our judges, following yours, through-
out the land, gave the interpretation of Westminster Hall;
and to this hour, and in this way, your judges continue to
legislate for us, and for our twenty millions of people.”
As I have said before, though wholly unpremeditated, this
little spurt was of no disadvantage to me, but, on the con-
trary, a great advantage; for it opened a new path to my
ambition, and soon after led to my acquaintance with Jeremy
Bentham. Here I had not only broken the ice, but had
learned to strike out boldly, without wandering into declama-
tion or rhetoric, and without making a fool of myself, by try-
ing my ground-tiers where they were not wanted. In short,
I contented myself with making an argument, instead of a
speech.
Not long after this, while going through a course of
gymnastics, at Völker's celebrated establishment, I was invited
by one of our best members, who proved to be Jeremy
Bentham's private secretary, to meet with a club of Utilita-
rians, who confederated once a week at Queen-Square Place,
where the great philosopher burrowed, and where they dis-
cussed with uncommon cleverness and pertinacity, and still
greater presumption, the most ponderous questions in govern-
ment, political economy, morals, metaphysics, and theology,
as if they were the Areopagus, and were expected to settle
them for ever, and without appeal.
Among these were Master John Mill, since known as
DEBATING SOCIETY; FIRST SPEECII.
55
John Stuart Mill, the great logician, political economist,
and metaphysician; a thorough-going radical, then a boy of
eighteen, or nineteen at most, with a girlislı face and a
womanly voice, like that of John Randolph; yet a formidable
antagonist, with his pen, of the “Edinburgh Review," after
the batteries of the “ Westminster” had fairly opened upon that
Gibraltar of the North; and the editor of Mr. Benthain's
* Rationale of Judicial Evidence,” in five volumes, royal
octavo; - John M. Roebuck, who began to grow troublesome
about the time I first knew him, and has been growing more
so, from that day to this — whether in parliament or out —
and more troublesome to his best friends, perhaps, than to
his worst enemies; a man of a churlish, discontented spirit,
and of such unreasonable, fantastic ambition, that he was
known to have his eye on the woolsack at the age of twenty-
three, as if it had been promised to him, like the imperial
throne to Josephine; a man of great shrewdness, tenacity
of purpose, and fiery edge, nevertheless; but of a most un-
comfortable temper, so that he was never satisfied with any
thing, not even with the administration of the universe, nor
with anybody; a snarling, querulous, and peevish antagonist,
to whom paradox was the breath of life, and contradiction
of the most obvious truth, life itself; a man who was always
on the watch for the halting of his best friends, who was
s nothing, if not critical," and who read mankind as others
would, a proof-sheet — only to find the errors and omissions.
We had also the editor of the “ Globe,” Walter Coulson -
a Devonshire Yankee, who would have passed muster for a
native, in any part of New England; one of the coolest and
clearest headed men I ever knew, and one of the most saga-
cious of journalists, but far from being either luminous, ori-
ginal, convincing, or satisfactory to the multitude, for whom
he wrote; -- and then there was Mr. George Grote the banker,
who edited Mr. Bentham's “ Natural Religion," under the
name of Philip Beauchamp, and who has written so much
and so well upon Greece, and the doings of Greece, and the
men of Greece, that " Commonwealth of kings ;” — and Rich-
ard Doane, the private secretary of Mr. Bentham, who brought
forth Mr. Bentham's “ Not Paul, but Jesus," under the name
of Gamaliel Smith ;- a Mr. Ellis or two, the younger Austin,
56
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
and some few others, who clubbed with us, from time to time,
and threatened to be heard of one day or another ; but, having
failed to keep their promise, I have forgotten their very
nanes.
One of our heaviest discussions, and the earliest I now
remember, was about the poor laws. It was carried on by a
Mr. P- , whose name has entirely slipped my memory, and
Mr. John Stuart Mill, who contended for their immediate
repeal in a body, as a source of continual, unmitigated mis-
chief. Others participated, after a feeble spasmodic fashion;
but I held my peace, being shy of committing myself among
strangers, upon a subject I was not master of.
At the very next meeting, a question arose -- I forget how,
though I had reason to believe that it was the result of a
conspiracy -- which involved the very existence of God. All
his attributes were seriously questioned by one or another of
these fledglings, and subjected to what they called a "search-
ing analysis."
Here I felt at home; for I was already a metaphysician,
- without knowing it; and, finding that I was in a club of un-
believers -- of atheists, I might say - I felt obliged, by all
the higher instincts of my nature, to assert my convictions.
Believing as I did, not only in a Supreme Intelligence, alike
inlinite in wisdom and power and goodness, alike omnipresent
and omniscient, but in that all-embracing love, wherewith He
holds the Universe to his heart, I undertook to show that all
his attributes were so clearly deducible from what we know
and see, in the operation of our own minds, and in the plie-
nomena about us, as to be self-evident, and might be demon-
strated, without the help of revelation.
I contended that the objections to his benevolence - after
his wisdom and power were acknowledged, on account of the
evil and suffering we see - amounted to little or nothing,
since he could, if he would, make our lives intolerable to us,
by prolonging our days and quickening our sensibilities, and
multiplying our temptations and our sorrows; that our great-
est blessings are the commonest - blessings so great, though
sellom acknowledged, that we could not live without them -
such as the gift of speech, of bread, air, and water - under-
standing, memory, the social affections, &c., &c.; that all our
DEBATING SOCIETY; FIRST SPEECH.
57
senses — the eye, the ear, the taste, the smell, and the touch
instead of being sources of pleasure, might be made sources
of inconceivable agony; that so unreasonable are we, even
the best of us, that we constantly overlook these common
blessings, and are for ever reaching after the uncommon and
the unattainable ; that suffering and pain and evil are the
exceptions; and yet we dwell upon them, as if we doted on
them, and complain of them, as if the reverse were true, and
God a malevolent being; so that a man in perfect health, a
husband and a father, worth millions, and enjoying the highest
consideration of his fellow-men, together with all the blessings
that earth can give, shall forget them all, and fix his whole
attention upon a splinter in his finger, a toothache, or a little
dust in his eye--- showing that, to such metaphysicians, these
trifies outweigh the universe. Pope has been quoted.
I maintain that Alexander Pope was inspired when he
declared
"All partial evil, universal good;
All discord, harmony not understood.”
Though, in my judgment, another passage from Pope, which
has been triumphantly quoted, was little better than blas-
phemy, where he represents God, the Sovereign of the uni-
verse — our Father — as wholly indifferent to the disturbances
and perturbations that occur, both in the empire of morals,
and in the material universe, by declaring that --
“He views with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall;
Atoms and systems into ruin hurled,
And now a bubble burst, and now a World."
Paley's “Evidences” were treated with very little con-
sideration; and even Butler's “ Analogy" did not seem to be
thought much of. In the language of their school, adopted
from their great master, Bentham, both were “sentimental.”
And yet, if plainness of speech, clear, vigorous logic, and
unflinching boldness — among themselves — were signs of
promise, foretokening a proud future, most of these young
men were what might be called hopeful cases.
I had to argue the question by myself. I stood alone; and
as I did not attempt a speech, but contented myself with
talking, I had no reason to be ashamed of the result; although
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
the question was not pressed to a vote, and I had no antago-
nist worth mentioning, except young Mill, who contented
himself with half a dozen diluted syllogisms, which did not
reach the heart of the subject, though they would have been
acknowledged with emphasis, had they been applied to the
corn-laws, or to universal suffrage. They were too general,
in fact, for special application. Of course, I do not pretend to
give the language, but I do the substance, of my argument,
ind the general drift of the discussion. This was in 1824.
I was now in my thirty-second year, and had never been
guilty of a speech ; but I had satisfied myself that, should my
notions upon the subject change, I might find it a very easy
matter, with a little practice, to speechify with the best. And
I am now in my seventy-third year (seventy-sixth at this
time), and yet, even to this day, I have never made what I
call a speech. Not only have I never written and committed
any thing to memory, but I have never premeditated a single
paragraph or sentence, even in my public lectures; and only
two or three times have I ever written what is called an
oration, or address. I have merely arranged the outline in
my head, fixed my attention upon the object I had in view,
and trusted wholly to the inspiration of the hour, the presence
of my learned brethren, or to that of the unwashed multitude,
and to the power of adaptation we are all more or less gifted
with, for the transaction of business ; that which is argument
or illustration to one class of minds, being often unintelligible,
or preposterous, to another. But being once written, like one
of Mr. Everett's or Mr. Choate's speeches, and then committed
to memory, no matter what changes may take place among
your auditors — they may be many or few, wise or simple,
learned or unlearned, enthusiastic or uninflammable - on you
must go, with what you have written, hit or miss, and take
the consequences. And so, too, if you have only written your
speech to be read, without learning it by heart, you are obliged
to give it, word for word, or risk a pitiable failure, in trying
new adaptations, or in supplying deficiencies, or hazarding
changes. But if you have good conversational powers - I
do not say colloquial — or if you are in the habit of orating
from your chair, when greatly moved, in the midst of your
friends, how easy to accommodate your language and illustra-
DEBATING SOCIETY; FIRST SPEECH.
59
tions to your audience, without losing sight of your original
purpose. .
' I had still much to learn ; I was far from being satisfied
with myself; I wanted arranging power; but, being rooted
and grounded in a belief which has long been a part of
myself, I determined to be led into no more convulsive dis-
plays, and to make no more demonstrations, if I could help it,
until they should become necessary in my profession, if I
went back to it; or in public life, should I be launched headlong
into that, as had been threatened more than once, both at
Baltimore and at Portland.
Not another speech, therefore, did I make, or try to make,
while abroad; though, by what follows, it may be seen that I
had opportunities enough such opportunities, too, as the
most ambitious would be likely to desire, and would not be
likely to forego or disregard, under any conceivable circum-
stances.
The great London Debating Society, made up of Oxford
and Cambridge graduates, young and middle-aged barristers,
and members of parliament, who needed practice, had just
been organized. I was invited to join; and our meetings
were held in the celebrated Freemasons' Tavern, one of the
largest halls in London. We had members enough to make
a large house; and our .proceedings were conducted with all
the forms that prevailed in the House of Commons, and with
all the decorum and solemnity you would wish. We had
even opposition and ministerial sides.
I was one of the managers; and I see by a lithograph, now
before me, that Mr. John S. Mill, Mr. Roebuck, and young
Mr. Romilly, son of Sir Samuel, were with me, in preparing
questions for debate. Most of these are so characteristic,
that I am sure I shall be pardoned for introducing them
here.
Mr. Roebuck proposes to resolve “ That the ends of penal
law can be attained without the punishment of death.”
Mr. Neal, “ That the intellectual powers of the two sexes
are equal," and " That slavery may be justifiable.”
Mr. Mill, “ That the French Revolution was necessary;”
and “ That freedom of discussion on religious subjects should
not be restricted by law."
60
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Mr. Romilly, “ That the residence of landlords would not
mitigate any one of the evils existing in Ireland.”.
Mr. Earle, “That the principles of Phrenology are suffi-
ciently established to form the basis of a science."
Here we have, in these few brief questions, not only a
preface to the lives of these young men, but a sort of abridged
autobiography, glimpses of the future, and unconscious fore-
tellings of themselves — eminently suggestive, are they not?
Not satisfied with opposing capital punishment, mainly, I
dare say, because the death of Fontleroy the forger had set a
few philanthropists upon reconsidering the question, while the
great mass were more determined than ever to enforce the
death penalty, our friend Roebuck, having made up his mind
to startle the House, undertook to show that Catiline was no
traitor, and no enemy to his country, but, on the contrary, a
high-minded, eloquent, much-injured man, and patriot; and
Cicero but a vain-glorious mountebank, both treacherous and
cowardly, which could not well be denied.
One of our leading members was a brother of Mr. John
Austin, husband of Sarah Austin. Both were distinguished:
the elder, as a writer on Jurisprudence, and as a disciple of
Mr. Bentham; and the younger for his knowledge of Ameri-
can affairs. Upon that subject, he had long been a leading
authority, both in the club and out. One little incident will
show something of his qualifications. On being appealed to
in debate, concerning the title of President with us, he said
it was given to him because he always presided in our Senate.
Whereupon, I smiled, and shook my head: all eyes were
turned upon me. But I did not.choose to take the floor: I
merely signified my dissent, by shaking my head somewhat
more seriously; taking it for granted that the gentleman
would discover his mistake, or that somebody else would set
him right.
“ If he does not preside, why then is he called President ? ”
asked Mr. Austin.
“For the same reason, perhaps, that the only man who
does not speak in your House of Commons is called the
Speaker," said I.
This reply, though conclusive enough, since it stopped the
discussion, did not seem quite satisfactory to my antagonist
.
DEBATING SOCIETY ; FIRST SPEECH.
61
and his followers, who, by the way, so lost their self-posses-
sion, that they forgot to remind me of the fact that the Speaker
of the House of Commons does speak sometimes, and may do
so at any time, by calling a member to the chair. But, after
all, why distinguish him as the Speaker ?
Having now satisfied myself that if it should ever become
necessary for me to talk at large — either professionally or
otherwise, on the platform, or off-I should find no serious
difficulty in the way, after a little practice, I went no more to
any of these debating associations, and never opened my
mouth in public again, till after my return to my native
place, in 1826.
But here my first experience was in quite a new field. It
so happened that I had never written a discourse, an address, or
a lecture, to be read or delivered in public. I had not even
tried my hand at a Fourth-of-July oration. But soon after I
had settled in my native town — after settling some of my ad-
versaries, who swore they would not allow me to stay here -
I was waited upon by a committee of citizens, with a request
that I would favor them with an address on the subject of
Temperance. I consented; and, having written out enouglı
to occupy me about half an hour in delivery, went into the
pulpit of the First Parish, and made my first essay in that line.
It was not committed to memory: it was only read; but
with such good emphasis and discretion, that, although it was
my “first appearance on any stage,” it was well received, and
went far to commit me for life upon that portentous question,
of which I shall have something to say hereafter.
Next followed the organization of a large debating society,
of which I became a member by special invitation, under an
idea that my long experience would be a great help to them!
We met weekly over the Canal-Bank, in Union - Street, and
after awhile in the United - States District-Court-Room, and
City-Hall; and I took a leading part in every serious ques-
tiors that came up, and always without premeditation.
Other addresses followed, which were written for publica-
tion, and of course published; though I was often sorely
tempted to throw aside the pen, and trust wholly to the inspira-
tion of the subject, and to the magnetism of the audience.
Whether I should have had the courage, however, is yet a
62
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
question with me, had I not been obliged to keep a promise,
after having declared that I would never write another dis-
course, or lecture, while I breathed the breath of life. Neck
or nothing was my motto then, as it will be to the end, where
I have much at stake.
At last, on the 2d or 3d of July, 18 , I was waylaid in
the street by a couple of friends, who insisted on my taking
the place of somebody, who had disappointed them, for the
coming Fourth. I consented, of course; and went into the
pulpit of our largest church always my horror, by the way,
and, at the best, only a sort of sentry-box, or wooden surtout;
and without having written a word, nay, without having pre-
meditated any thing more than the general outline, gave an
address about freedom and slavery, the rights of women, and the
wrongs of women, and there laid, as I think, the foundation of
all that has been built up since in favor of Women's Rights.
After urging that our seven years' war of Independence had
been against virtual representation, I asked how the women
of our country, constituting one-half of our whole population,
were likely to be satisfied with virtual representation, after
they understood the difference. I held that the interests of
no two persons that ever lived were identical, any more than
their bodies or souls; and proceeded to answer certain objec-
tions. One was, that women would not care for the privilege,
because men do not always vote, even where qualified ; that
the right of suffrage is often regarded as a tax, instead of a
privilege, not two-thirds of our qualified voters, upon the
average, availing themselves of that sacred right, for which
others, over sea, are ready to risk their lives, except on extra-
ordinary occasions. Granted; but what then? All these
qualified voters can vote, if they will. Would it be a good
argument for any of our people, who might be forbidden to
keep arms, to tell them, that very few of those who are
allowed to keep arms ever do keep or use them ? True;
but they way if they will, would be the answer. Give us
the right of voting, and the right of keeping arms, and leave
us to judge about the necessity or expediency of using these
rights. Were precedents called for? The women of New
Jersey were allowed to vote, until long after the beginning of
this century. Was the revolutionary war all a pretence ?
DEBATING SOCIETY ; FIRST SPEECH.
63
Were we serious, when we undertook to maintain -- appeal-
ing to the Sovereign of the universe for help -- that taxation
and representation were coincident and reciprocal, each being
the measure of the other, like allegiance and protection?
Was it honest, was it fair, I asked, after acknowledging that
to say that their ministers were not women, but men; for
who chose the men? Where kings reign, women rule, it is
said — and with great truth; for there the men choose for
themselves, and the beautiful and the fascinating become the
dangerous and the destructive. Which, then, are the wiser,
and the safer — the queens, wlio choose for their ministers
great men; or the kings, who choose for their favorites beauti-
ful women? Other arguments were urged, and, among them,
about all that have since appeared, except this. Women do
- not ask for the privilege of voting. Very true; but what
then? The Hindoo widows do not ask, or did not, until
within a few years, to be spared the funeral pyre; Chinese
women do not ask the privilege of gadding; but is that a
good reason for crippling these, and roasting the others alive?
Our children, if it were left to them, would not be likely to
ask for many of their high-school privileges ; but is that a
reason for denying what we know they need, and what they
will hereafter want? If we, who claim to be wiser, know
thus much, is not our duty clear? Shall we withhold what
we know would be for their advantage, because they are
children, or women ignorant of their rights ?
But enough, —
“The die was cast -
The golden link that bound
A glorious Future to a glimmering Past.”
And there I stopped. From that day to this I have never
been betrayed into writing, or preparing so much as a single
paragraph, either at the bar, at our largest public meetings, or
as a lecturer, in any part of the country. That I have pretty
well overcome the diffidence that used to make me hesitate --
and blush and stammer - when I had nothing to say — seems
to be generally acknowledged. That I am ready and fluent
and self-possessed, I should not think of deuying; but I am so
64
.
VIANDERING RECOLLECTINGSNA
heartily sick of speechifying, that I seldom consent to say
more than seems absolutely indispensable, on paper or off,
and then only when I am sorely pressed for a speech, or a
newspaper article, and cannot escape.
Thus much for the encouragement of others, who disbelieve
in themselves, and who, instead of learning to swim on a
table, as I did, have made up their minds never to go into the
water till they have learned to swim.
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
CHAPTER VI.
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
CHILDISH FISTICUFFS; BOYISH, DITTO ; SERIOUS CONTROVERSIES; DIS-
OWNED BY THE QUAKERS, AND WHY; SPARRING OVER SLA; MY LAST
QUARRELS THERE AND HERE, I HOPE.
Dec. 26, 1867.- Our fine weather still continues. The
earth is bare of snow, and to-day we are getting our roofs on
by the score. Most of us are now safe, though some of our
best walls are out of plumb, since the last thaw. To business
therefore,
I do not believe that my disposition is bad; or that I am
either quarrelsome, vindictive, or unforgiving. Indeed, I
know better; for, notwithstanding my reputation, I never
began a quarrel, so far as I know and believe, in all my life.
I never went to bed, since I was a boy, with a feeling of bit-
terness toward a human being; and I never saw the time
when I would not have instantly forgiven the worst enemy I
had, the moment he seemed sorry. And yet I have always
been in hot water, and have always had, until within the last **
few years, half a dozen serious quarrels upon my hands, on ac-
count of other people, whom I have supposed to be misunder-
stood, or misrepresented, slandered, wronged, or cheated. On
my own account, personally, I have not had a regular toss-up
with anybody for many a long year; so that some of my best
friends have thought, I fear, that I was spoiling for a fight,
and have even ventured so far as to tell me so, thereby proving
themselves mistaken in my character.
How is this to be explained ? I think I know. In the
first place, I was born a coward not to be mealy-mouthed -
a downright coward. In the next, when badgered and bullied
and beset, beyond human patience, in my early boyhood, I
felt sure that, when I overlooked or forgave the offender, it
was from fear, and not from love - the fear thạt something
5.
66
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
would happen to astonish me, whatever might be the size or
age of my antagonist, if I let fiy. In short, I was afraid of
myself; and how could I be magnanimous, or forgiving? And
yet I was forgiving, as I have said before; never in my life
going to sleep on a grudge, so far as I now remember.
Having been born and bred a Quaker, and all my relations
on both sides of the house being of that faith, and having
their birthright in the society, I was quite sure of being
trounced, right or wrong - if not by my dear mother, who
was a great disciplinarian, till I got large enough to be
somewhat unmanageable, at least by some proxy, among the
Friends; most of whom were sufficiently orthodox to set
them apart from all other religious denominations, though
many of the younger people gave up thee and thou, wore
buttons behind, with notches, instead of lappels, in front, and
turned-down collars on their single-breasted coats.
I was no sooner admitted into the town-school, after being
pretty well grounded in reading, spelling, writing, and arith-
metic, by my dear mother, who had quite a reputation for
these branches, up to the very last of her long and useful
life, than all the big boys began to hector and buffet me;
while the lesser fry contented themselves with running
after me in the street, or hiding behind fences and wood-
piles, and singing out, “ Quaker Neal ! Quaker Neal !” as I
went by.
This I bore, till I could bear it no longer. Having well
weighed the consequences, and calculated the chances — like
Frederick the Great, after running away from his first battle;
or Wellington, after he had shown a white feather in the East
-- I made up my mind, that, in most cases, it is safer to fight
than to run; and I resolved one day, or one night rather, after
a little affair I had, which mortified me beyond expression, to
be badgered and bullied no longer, by any boy of my size
or age. And I kept my resolution, till I was no longer a
boy; after which, I took my stand with men, and may now
venture to say, notwithstanding my original nature, that I
have kept the field against all comers, from that day to this.
The change of character which followed, and which
amounted to a transfiguration, occurred when I was not far
- from eight years of age. A smaller boy, though, as I have
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
lately ascertained, somewhat older, met me at the corner of
Federal and Pearl Streets, near the town-pump. I had no
acquaintance with him : I do not know that I had ever seen
him before. Without a word of warning or explanation, the
little wretch gave me a smart blow on the mouth. At an
open window sat a large, pompous, red-faced man, the collector
of our port, Mr. Fosdick, who appeared to enjoy the affair
prodigiously, and when I appealed to him, as to one of the
fathers and magnates -- I, a poor, little, innocent, Quaker-boy
- he only laughed in my face, and asked me if I was not
ashamed of myself, to let such a little fellow strike me, with-
out returning it. For a moment, I was utterly confounded.
Where I had looked for sympathy, encouragement, and ap-
proval, I met with ridicule and scorn. What was I to think
of the serious admonitions I had been so long familiar with,
at home and abroad, about doing as I would be done by, and
returning evil for good ?
That settled the question with me for life. Preaching, I ,
saw clearly, was not practice. I could have cried for shame
and vexation, and believe I did cry, though not until the boy
had gone about his business; but, before I slept, my mind was
made up to bear these outrages no longer, and to take my
own part against all the world, Quaker or no Quaker. And
· this promise, though made to myself, and in the darkness
and silence of midnight, with nobody to overhear me, at the
age of nine at the most, has been faithfully kept, with two or
three trivial exceptions, from that day to this. “A fair field
and no favor” has been my motto -- the legend upon my
shield, if not upon my blade — for more than sixty-five years.
Not satisfied with fighting my own battles, indeed, for most
of the time, I have been fighting the battles of other people,
of the public, and of strangers, whenever I saw them wronged;
often, I must acknowledge, without reaping the least possible
advantage for myself, and sometimes without much helping
those I befriended like Pelby, the actor; Buckingham, the
editor; Fairfield, the poet; General Bratish, the Cagliostro
of our day; and fifty others I might mention, if I would.
But I had my revenge. Five or six years after the bitter
humiliation I have complained of, which first brought me
acquainted with myself, and set me thinking about self-
68
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
defence and our Quaker principles of submission, I happened
to be passing up Fish-Street, now Exchange-Street, Portland,
when I saw a crowd gathering, and people rushing toward it
from every quarter; and then I heard the voices of men evi-
dently engaged in angry discussion. After a few minutes,
the crowd withdrew; and two large, tall, dignified-looking
gentlemen - I call them gentlemen, because they wore small-
clothes and hair-powder-emerged from their midst, brandish-
ing shillelahs, and threatening each other, from opposite sides
of the street, and in the most violent and opprobrious lan-
guage, with a tremendous beating: one, Collector Fosdick —
the red-faced, pompous gentleman, who had so mortified me
not long before -- threatening to break every bone in the
other's body; while Eben Mayo, the other, set him at de-
fiance in language quite as unbecoming, for a man of peace.
But didn't I enjoy it! Here were two of the fathers - line-
of-battle ships, three deckers, with lighted matches, and guns
double-shotted -- luoning away from each other, and threaten-
ing to play the very mischief with whatever should come
athwart their hawsers. Pshaw! I have seen just such an
exhibition of boastful cowardice, and noisy threatening, at
Baltimore, between two negroes of huge proportions, after a
brief, bloodless encounter. Separating by mutual consent,
and taking different ways, they went off, shaking their heads
till they were out of sight, and saying, “ Lemme cotch you,
dat's all, nigger ! goody gorry mighdee — lemme cotch you!”
And now let us return. As might have been expected, it
was not long before I had an opportunity of showing — to
myself, at least, if to nobody else — whether my resolution
would keep, or was worth keeping. In the same house with
my poor mother lived a family named Lee. One of the boys,
about a year older than myself, was the terror of the whole
neighborhood - smart as a steel trap, and quick as lightning.
We were both in the daily habit of going for water to the
town-pump, lately standing on the corner of Federal and
Franklin Streets; and it was very seldom we met there with-
out a serious altercation - Lee trying to push me away, if I
was beforehand with him, or to delay me, if I seemed to be
in a hurry. I had always yielded, when it came to the pinch,
and must acknowledge that I was afraid of him.
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
69
But, as there are said to be limits to human patience, I
determined, after thinking the whole matter over once more,
to yield no longer, come what might. The consequence of
which was, that, the next time he tried to drive me away, I
stood my ground, to his unspeakable amazement; and though,
after a short, angry, rough-and-tumble affray, I came off only
second best, I saw that he hadn't much to brag of; and
though, from that time forward, month after month, our alter-
cation was frequently renewed, he seemed to be fighting shy,
until, at last, he gave up hectoring me, and we became fast
friends for life, with one single exception, which occurred
after I was eighteen, when we fought our last battle. As
Peter the Great learned of Charles XII., through a succes-
sion of disasters, how to conquer, so had I learned of this
tyrannical, though clever boy, how to withstand encroach-
ment. Both of us happened to be out of business, and our
masters had failed. I had a new coat of the latest London
fashion, which had been made for a neighbor, but did not fit.
One summer afternoon, while we were idling away an hour
on the wooden benches that stood in front of old Captain
Smith's shop, on Fore-Street, fronting Union- Wharf, Lee
amused himself, and two or three of the bystanders, by pluck-
ing at my coat-tail, whenever I started to go, until at last he
tore it. I remonstrated : he persisted and threatened, until I
promised to strike him, if he laid his finger on me again.
The old spirit revived, and began to look out of his eyes, and,
after a few minutes, he took another pull; and I struck him in
the face. He did not return the blow at the time; but,
watching his opportunity, after a few minutes, gave me two
little dabs right and left, on account, when I was entirely
off my guard; and then added, that, if I would step down be-
hind the brick store at the head of Union Wharf, he would
give me a thrashing. I had half a mind to turn it off with
à joke, and say, “I wouldn't go so far as that, if he would
give me two;” but remembering the promise made to myself,
and kept without flinching for about six years, I accepted the
challenge. Down we went, followed by a crowd of boys and
two or three of our companions, who had been treated by us
with bottled cider and Boston crackers more than once; and
who, for that reason, perhaps, were willing to see the last
70
.
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONSTY
of both. But instead of going to work at once, as he had
threatened with his dark, handsome eyes, if not by speech,
when I planted myself -6 poised on my own magnanimity,"
as Dexter said, in his plea for Selfridge — Lee suggested our
throwing the blackguards off the scent, and adjourning to
Back-Fields, behind the old First-Parish meeting-house.
“ With all my lieart," said I ; and away we went, fetching up
at last, without a single follower, in a clay pit.
We lost no time, I assure you. Our coats were off, our
shirt-sleeves rolled up, our castor's landed wherever the wind
might happen to take thein; and at it we went. After a
round or two, my friend got a black eye; and, soon after, my
nose began bleeding, so that I had to go down to a puddle of
dirty water and wash my face. Then he slipped, and fell flat
upon his back; and when I followed him up, with no inten-
tion, I protest, of touching him, till he should be up, and
ready for me, he began kicking at me with all his might,
much to my surprise, and greatly to my satisfaction, I must
acknowledge; for I then saw that he was afraid of me. At
last, having kicked himself out of breath, he proposed to
knock off, and if I would let him get up as if I had any
idea of hindering him!- to call it a draw, so good and so
good, six of one and half a dozen of the other. I agreed
to the proposition, and we went home together. On our way,
as we were both climbing a fence in the rear of the parson-
age, he said, “I needn't think it was all over; for, the next
time he saw me out in the evening, he meant to have another
try with me.” I signified my willingness; and there the
matter ended - and for ever. We were always good friends
after that, up to the day of his death. So much for my first
pitched battle, and so much for the ultimate issue. I had
begun rather early to vindicate my manhood; and I had per-
severed, as will be seen before I get through this chapter,
under many discouragements, until few that knew me would
have been willing to "answer my waked wrath."
No second blow, said Cour de Lion. No second battle
with the same foe, said the Lacedemonians. And so I say.
If you must have a toss-up, let it be once for all, say I, that
you may not feel as if you had left your work unfinished.
Bear in mind, I pray you, that these were the notions of
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
71
my boyhood — notions which “grew with my growth, and
strengthened with my strength," till a steadily active, whole-
some caution did that for me, in the course of time, which
fear did for me at first. It made me unwilling to take offence,
and still more unwilling to give offence; so that, notwith-
standing my imperious and fiery temper, and my reputed fear-
lessness of consequences, I have managed for the last five
and forty years, with a few exceptions, to keep out of per-
sonal controversies, except on paper - for which, by the way,
I do most heartily and reverently thank God, for reasons
which may appear by and by -- else I might have had much
more to answer for than I have now.
But I have not done with my boyhood. Soon after
breaking my first lance with young Lee, at the pump, I found
that I had got myself into business for life; that, happen what
might, I was bound to keep the field against all comers, or
withdraw at once, and for ever. His reputation stood so high
among the boys, both for fighting and wrestling, that to have
contended with him, as I had, and to have come off, even
second best, without a pair of black eyes and a bloody nose,
began to work out for me the retribution I had provoked, till
I came to be talked about as rather an “ugly customer.” The
larger boys were set upon me to try their mettle; and boys of
about my own size were encouraged to wayłay me, with chips
on their hats, which they dared me to knock off. To all these
intimations, I gave no heed. My plan was to keep clear of
all such company, and to avoid giving offence; but if attacked
by anybody, however large, to defend myself as best I could.
This resolution, too, I was enabled to keep, with two or three
lamentable exceptions, which I had overlooked, when I
said, at the opening of the chapter, that I had always given
blow for blow. Let nobody who has been belted for the
championship, whether with, or without his own consent, be
persuaded that he is not enlisted for life. Whatever he may
suppose at first, he will soon find that there is no discharge in
that war, if he would not be trampled upon by every whipper-
spapper that stands in his way. Think well therefore, my
young friend, before you take up the glove, when it is offered,
and never allow yourself to dash your gauntlet in the face of
another, if it can be helped. “If it be possible as much as in
72
r
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
you lies -- live peaceably with all men;" that's the law and
the gospel.
The natural consequences I had begun to fear, soon fol-
lowed. The reputation I had of being somewhat danger-
ous, while it deterred a few, even among the boldest and
sauciest, from meddling with me, rather stimulated others
to put my courage to the proof, at least by proxy. My
second trial happened in this way, and took me altogether by
surprise.
One day, I was passing through an open lot, in the rear of
Ma'am Berry's toy-shop, at the corner of Federal and Temple
Streets, wheu I was set upon by a boy named Titcomb, a son
of Parson Titcomb, who lived near. The boy was about a
year older than I, but not so large; a famous rough-and-
tumble fighter, and always quarrelling with somebody, until
even the bigger boys were shy of meddling with him.
I forget how the affair originated, though I have an idea
that he threatened to lick me on the spot, asking no questions
for conscience' sake. I had my misgivings, I dare say, though
I could not well stomach his overbearing, insolent manner.
And so, instead of yielding at once, or running away, as he
undoubtedly expected, I stood my ground; or, as they have
it now, showed fight. Whereupon, the little wretch came at
me head-first, with his eyes shut. I was not at all frightened,
I remember, nor at all hurt; though he was covered with
blood, after a few minutes, my blows having been delivered,
by striking up, as often as he rushed in upon me, while none
of his reached my face. I know not how long the affair
lasted; but when it was over, and he had sneaked away, and
I had gone about my business, pluming myself not a little
on the result, I was overtaken by a big brother of his, who
pummelled me to his heart's content, while I covered my face
with my hands, and set my teeth, and bore it handsomely,
though without returning a blow, I dare say; for he carried
altogether too many guns for me, being twelve or fourteen,
and both cruel and cowardly, while I was not over nine.
But my trials did not stop here; and, that I may not have
to double on my track hereafter, I propose to give all that I
now remember which had the effect of hardening my nature,
without regard to the order of time, up to the day when I
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
73
took my stand for the last time --- the: stand which I have
maintained for the last fifty-five or sixty years, or thereabouts,
against all the world. But I hope not to be misunderstood.
I am not, or rather I do not intend to be, boastful, nor to
encourage a quarrelsome disposition. The hardest rocks are
gold-bearing; but they need to be crushed, or tapped, to let
the sunshine out. And so with me. The trials and mortifi-
cations that do not soften the heart, always harden it, like
fire. Many are the changes I have undergone ; but few have
been so radical, or so enduring, as the first, which made me
obstinate and fierce, when assailed, or the second, which led
versy, which, following out my declared purpose declared, I
mean, to myself - would oblige me to persevere to the end,
whatever might be the inconveniences. That I came to be
cautious and forbearing at last, where I had once been head-
strong and rash, grew out of my experience, before I had
reached manhood. My character being established — my
strength and quickness having been proved, to my own satis-
faction - I no longer distrusted myself, and could afford to
overlook what would have exasperated me to madness, before
I had learned to respect myself.
The following are the incidents referred to, as exceptions,
and all that I now remember worth mentioning, from the day
of my first battle with Lee. One day, a big lubberly boy,
who, according to my present recollection, must have been
almost a man, came up behind me when I was gathering chips
on the wharf, in front of a pump-maker's shop, where he
worked as an apprentice, and gave me a blow on the back
of my neck, which at the time appeared heavy enough to
fell an ox, and might have dislocated the vertebra. And for
what? I never knew, and to this hour have no idea what had
enraged the brute; although I am sincerely thankful that I
never knew his name, or I might have harbored a little grudge
against him, as I did against an old school-master of mine,
who thrashed me severely, when he knew I had a written
excuse for absence, and then boasted of it before all the
boarders -- a grudge, however, that did not keep me awake
nights, nor taste bitter in my throat, until I was big enough
to avenge myself, when I forgave him on account of his gray
74
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
hairs, with a word of admonition, which he never forgot to
his dying day, I am quite sure; because he sent for me just
before his death, on hearing that I had become a changed
man, and proposed, in all seriousness, that I should make him
a compensation for the suffering I had caused him by telling
the story in “ Errata, or Will Adams.”
Next in order came the following incident. Among the
larger boys, by no means remarkable for courage or bad
temper, was one by the name of Bryant — still living, I see,
for I met him a month or two ago — whom I believe in my
heart I used to hector and bully, as others had me. At last,
however, being "much enforced” by his companions, partly
upon the ground that he was afraid of me, and partly upon
that of my having a reputation for pluck, which I did not
deserve, he was shamed into fetching me a slap in the face,
which so took me by surprise, that I did not think of return-
ing it till it was too late, alleging to myself, as an excuse for
showing the white feather, after the solemn resolution I
have mentioned, that I was alone, aud he with two or three
companions.
After this, and long after I had redeemed myself in the
opiniou of my school-fellows, another lad, both larger and
older than I was — Luther Jewett, our collector not many
years ago — was persuaded to follow me up the passage-way
leading to my mother's in Fish Street, when it was already
dark, followed by a troop of young reprobates, and there give
me a blow in the back, which, alas! I did not return, being, I
dare say, glad to get off so. “The villain came behind me,
but I slew him," says young Norval; and, at the time, such
was my rage, to say nothing of the mortification I endured,
that I should have been heartily glad to say the same thing
of my old friend Jewett, with whom, by the way, I came
near having a set-to in the street, soon after my return from
abroad, because, forsooth, I had “ taken up” for a sailor, who
had been abused on board some vessel which a friend of
Jewett had some interest in. But, on the whole, as I had
ventured to put myself in his way, after he had threatened
to “wallop” me, he thought it the safer and the wiser course,
to overlook the offence; and so did I.
And here ended my first course. From that day to this,
(
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
75
"
I have been faithful to the understanding I had with myself;
never giving an offence, or, rather, never giving the first
offence, though I have always given the first blow; always
offering the best apology I could, if I had hurt or offended
another, unintentionally; and always resenting upon the spot,
and instantaneously, whatever seemed to be intended for an
affront, until within the last few years; and, if we were obliged
to try conclusions in a serious way, always defending myself,
by giving the first blow.
My other experiences were sufficiently amusing, and some
were what my legal brethren, and perhaps my medical friends,
would call cumulative; each being a little harder to bear than
that which preceded it.
One evening and this I regard as my first pitched battle,
for I had to do with a young sailor in tarred clothes (not so
bad) - one evening, I was called out by some boys, who an-
nounced that the Lower-Enders were coming up in a body to
thrash the Middle-Enders, as we were called. They wanted
a champion. I was now behind a counter, well dressed, and
tall of my age, with quite a reputation among the school-boys
and counter-jumpers for courage and pluck; having only a
few days before accepted a challenge from Bill Gibbs, the
greatest bully among us, when he dared me to come on board
a vessel, one sabbath-day, which he had undertaken to hold
against all comers. Whereupon, I jumped aboard at once, and
waited the issue; having a crowd of spectators on the wharf
to see fair play. But he failed to redeem his pledge; and,
when the boys began crowing over him, I verily thought he
would jump overboard, to conceal his mortification. He was
the eldest of a large family, all given to fisticuffs; and
his father kept the county-jail, for amusement.
Though far from desiring such a distinction, and by no
means qualified for the championship, I did not refuse; but
went with them to the head of Exchange-Street, then called
Fish-Street, where we found the rival faction, headed by a
sailor-boy named Wiley, at least two years my elder, accord-
ing to my present recollection ; somewhat heavier, and
accustomed all his life to being knocked about, both at sea
and ashore.
After a brief, though clamorous parley, it was agreed that
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
the two parties, instead of going into the battle head-first,
every boy for himself, should fight by proxy; we to do the
hammering, and they the hurrahing. Of course, having gone
So far, I could not say no. My reputation was at stake -
my self-respect indeed. Fools that we are! I had never
seen Wiley before, though I had been told of his doings.
Nor am I sure that he knew me, otherwise than by the repu-
tation I had among the boys. We were both natural fighters,
game-cocks without feathers; but wholly ignorant of boxing,
or, as it is called now, “the manly art of self-defence," under
color of which the well-trained pugilist sets a fellow spin-
ning, with a slap in the mouth; or drops him, with a blow
under the ear, as dead as a herring.
Not a moment was lost. There was no palavering, no
backing and filling. We did not even off coats, and roll up
our sleeves : nobody thought of peeling in that day; and I
had on, I well remember, that London-made coat of blue
broadcloth, with gilt buttons, which had been made for a
young merchant for whom I had been writing, and who gave
it to me because it did not fit him, though it fitted me to a
charm, after a few alterations.
And so to work we went, hammer and tongs; and, before
five minutes were over, I had a lift under the right ear, which
I did not get entirely over for two months, while he, poor
fellow, was bleeding like a pig, and actually crying with
shame and vexation. At last, he called for a pole: he wouldn't
fight, as we had begun, rough and tumble, though neither of
us had gone down, and there was no pulling hair, nor kicking
shins; but a pole he must and would have, or he should leave
it for somebody else to polish me off. This delighted me, of
course ; for it was an acknowledgment, before all the belligerent
youth of Portland, that I was too much for him. I forget
whether a pole was brought; although I have some recollec-
tion of seeing two boys of about my age, who were either
bottle-holders or pole-bearers, jumping about, like two young
bears learning to dance on hot bricks, barefooted. The battle
was soon over, and I came off with flying colors; though, in
consequence of being remonstrated with by the late John
Fox, who happened along, just as we had got through, and I
was buttoning up, I began to feel most heartily ashamed of
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
77
1
myself; and am to this hour, whenever I recall the circum-
stances. For what business had I, a young gentleman in com-
parison with all the rest, and a Quaker, to be battling the
watch with a set of graceless vagabonds, at the head of a
great thoroughfare, and within sight of my poor mother's
windows ? But, after all, it did me good; for it cured me of
championship. And, though I have never seen Wiley from
that hour to this, I have always felt a desire to thank him
for that rap under the car. It made me cautious, though
“sudden and quick in quarrel” as ever, until I knew how to
guard against similar visitations.
Long before this, however, I had found myself at a Quaker
boarding-school, in Windham, a small, scattered village, about
twelve miles from Portland. There I had a furious encounter
with knives —- wooden knives — in which I acquitted myself
handsomely; and though the boy was older and larger and
tougher than I, yet, after a somewhat lengthy struggle, which
he had begun, we parted “ so good and so good ;” and I had
no further trouble with him, though he was a terrible tyrant
by nature, except in relation to another phase of my character,
which I must defer an account of, until I come to a chapter
upon authorship and story-telling, when poor Dave Purinton
will re-appear upon the stage, in a character entirely new.
This prepared me, in a measure, for toeing the mark, with
our Quaker boys, whenever they forgot themselves — or me-
and undertook to tease and worry me, after a fashion peculiar
to the race. Among my school-fellows, when I went to
Master Boyce, a Quaker teacher, and to Master Moody, who
taught as others did, without sectarian proclivities, was Daniel
Cobb, a quiet, amiable, and obliging boy, with whom I had
always been upon the best of terms, till he took lessons in
French, and tried to make me and the rest of the school
believe that my name in French was Jean —- Jean Ne-al;
after which my liking began to abate, and at last, on finding
that he was far ahead of me in penmanship, a department I
had been very successful in, it died out altogether, and we
came to an open rupture. It was my fault, beyond all ques-
tion, and grew out of sheer envy on my part, although I do
not now remember the immediate cause of our quarrel; but
one day I found myself at loggerheads with him, at the head
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
of Exchange - Street, my old battle-ground, though some-
what higher up, on a ledge, since levelled and built over for
the custom-house and post-office. Daniel had armed him-
self with what we, in this part of the world, call “rocks ;"
which he held in his hands, and struck with, believing, as he
told me, after it was all over, that nobody could endure such
blows. But I did, nevertheless; and poor Daniel had to
back out, step by step, and finally to give in, though neither
of us had much to complain of. Long after this, we met in
Baltimore -- where he had settled for life, as he thought, and
as it soon proved; for he died there while I was abroad,
universally respected and beloved, a Quaker to the last- and
we renewed our acquaintance there, as if it had never been
otherwise than agreeable to both.
But some of the Quaker boys would not leave me in peace;
and after I had gone into business for myself -behind the
counter -- and had begun to dress better than my old school-
fellows, and so to qualify the cut of my Quaker garb, that I
fairly eclipsed not a few of the more advanced and more am-
bitious, who sat with me on the wooden benches at meeting,
there seemed to be a sort of combination or conspiracy, among
them, to “cut my comb." · The skirmishing began by Dave
Purinton “ daring” me down to the back field, one day, as we
stood on the step of the old brick meeting-house, corner of
Pearl and Federal Streets, where my mother kept a school.
It was a fifth day;" and we were waiting for the elders to
take their place, on the “fore seat," before we went in.
I accepted the challenge at once, greatly to the surprise --I
might say, to the amazement - of all the other boys who stood
about the door. But my reputation was at stake, and, as I
then believed, my self-respect; and having already been tried
with knives, and with knives to the hilt, in Congressional
phraseology, as I have already mentioned, I felt sure of
myself. “After meeting ?” said he, as we entered the sanc-
tuary. “After meeting," I answered, “I shall be ready for
you.” But, after meeting, Dave was not to be found. He
had slipped away, like an adder. But he never forgave me;
and, to the other boys, I began to loom up like a portent; for,
instead of saying, “ One's afeard and t'other darsn't," they
went about declaring that Dave Purinton was “afeard o' me,”
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
79
that he had dared me down to the Back - Fields, and then
sneaked off.
However, my troubles were not ended; and I soon had oc-
casion to show that I was of a truth growing dangerous. To
the Quakers, buttons behind were forbidden. Useless to be
sure, but fashionable nevertheless — and for that very reason,
perhaps, fashionable — they were prodigiously coveted by the
young broad-brims. I had them on a new coat - I dare say,
without my dear mother's knowledge; for she was orthodox
to the core, on all such questions. One day, at the weekly
meeting, I felt somebody behind me tugging at a button. 1
turned round, in the awful stillness that prevailed, only to see
Ben Hannaford, with an open knife in one hand, sharp and
glittering, and, in the other, my poor button just ready to give
up the ghost. I told him to stop that! He persisted; and I
let fly, with such effect, that his nose gushed out with blood,
and, for a minute or so, I sat expecting to feel the knife in
my side; for he had a terrible reputation, and was thought to
be both cruel and vindictive, unrelenting and treacherous.
But he was not altogether evil; for he suffered me to escape,
though some of the boys, and not a few of the young men, who
saw the figure he cut, and my paleness, looked as if they ex-
pected the roof to fall in upon us both. Nothing more came
of it, however; and I was left in peace.
For many a long year after this, I had no personal encoun-
ter worth mentioning; though I did not entirely escape, either
at Boston or at Baltimore, after it came to be understood
that I was an “ugly customer.” But, after my failure in the
latter place, I began to be more sensitive and waspish; and
so, one day, being stopped by a stout lubberly Irishman, as I
was walking leisurely along through Market Street, on my
way toward Gadsby's, we had a rough-and-tumble toss-up,
which set the whole neighborhood agog. The fellow kept a
retail shop. He and some of his neighbors had bought of me
a quantity of cotton-balls for cash, at a time when cotton-balls
were something better than specie., But, instead of paying
cash, these gentlemen, having understood that we were in
failing circumstances — Pierpont, Lord, and myself -- con-
cluded not to pay at all, not even in promises; whereupon,
getting out of patience with them, I left all my demands with a
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
lawyer, directing him to enforce them without delay, and to
"warrant” all who did not “pony up,” where the amount did
not exceed twenty dollars.
This was reckoned a personal affront, if I may believe
what was afterward told me. And so the debtors came to-
gether, and chose the biggest of their number to give me a
6 walloping” on the public street, and at a time when it was
likely to be thronged with fashionable women. I knew noth-
ing of the arrangement, and was wondering, as I turned the
corner of South Calvert-Street, where I boarded, into Market-
Street, what the retail shopkeepers were hurrying to their
door for. As I passed the shop of this fellow, who was sitting
on a box, just outside, he spoke to me, and I stopped to an-
swer. "Ain't you a pretty feller?” said he, flourishing both
fists at me, as he spoke. I bowed. “Arrah!” said he, “ if
yer wouldn't take the law o' me, I'd give yer what Paddy
give the drum.” “If you want a quarrel," said I, “ you can
be accommodated; but this is not the place: the street is
crowded with women.” It was toward evening on a beautiful
summer day. “Oh!” said my man, raising his voice, “it's
none o' your barkers, I want. I'm for the bull-dogs," again
flourishing his fists at me. 6 Well, then," said I,“ if you insist
upon it, here let it be; and I give you my word, I will not
take the law of you.”
But instead of opening fire, as I expected, the great lubber,
who had jumped off the box, as if to carry his threat into ex-
ecution, hesitated, faltered, and at last contented himself with
calling me “a d-d puppy.”
Whereupon, I levelled a blow at his head, with a heavy
orange-tree cane I happened to have with me, which, had I
not relented before it reached him, must have brought him to
the ground, and perhaps finished the quarrel, by finishing my
antagonist. My hesitation saved him; for he caught the cane
with both hands, and fairly wrenched it out of my grasp.
And then we fell to, in downright earnest; and, after in-
terchanging a few blows, he seized me round the waist, and
being a very powerful. man, with quite a reputation as a
rough-and-tumble fighter, I felt as if a boa-constrictor had
me. It was a moment of terrible suspense — a matter of life
or death for me, if not for him ; for every thing I had on earth
...
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
81
was at stake. The struggle was very brief. I threw him ;
and, as he fell with his back over the curb-stone, he drew me
down, so that I had great difficulty in disengaging myself.
At last, I succeeded ; and the moment he was on his feet, he
began flourishing the cane he had wrenched from me, and
daring me to come on; while his wife kept screaming at us
both, from an open window above. “Will anybody give me
a cane?” said I, turning to the bystanders, and feeling very
sure of myself, should it come to blows in that way. The
next moment, somebody -I never knew who — slipped a
small knotty stick, with a silver head, into my hand, which
the owner never took the trouble to come for. But the ques-
tion was settled. My antagonist withdrew, the crowd dis-
persed, and I went on my way rejoicing, without a scratch;
though the brutal ruffian had literally torn out one breadth
of the frock-coat I wore, with every thing underneath — vest
and shirt. He had the clutch of a grizzly bear. These rav-
ages I concealed, by buttoning my coat over on the other side,
so that when I reached Mr. Gadsby's, where I met a party of
charming girls, nobody would have suspected that I had been
engaged yard-arm and yard-arm, within the last quarter of an
hour, or that I had hauled off to repair damages.
And then followed the funniest part of the whole affair. I
was called up before the great Luther Martin, judge of the
criminal court, to answer for an assault and battery on this
very Mr. Hill, who had been so afraid of my taking the law
of him! After he had told his story, and had got as far as
where he acknowledged that he had called me “a d-d
puppy," he came to a full stop.
66 Well,” said the judge, “and what then? What did he
do?"
“ He knocked me down,” said Hill.
“And what else could you expect?” said the judge; and
then, because my bearing and appearance were so much in my
favor, that my example might be dangerous, he fined me ten
dollars and costs.
Up to this time, I had never forfeited my birthright with
the Friends. I had gone to their meetings now and then,
though not often, and never on week-days; and they were
wwilling to give me up. A committee were chosen to labor
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
with me; and after several interviews, on finding me obstinate
- in my notions about non-resistance, they yielded to my re-
quest, and consented to disown me.
"I understand, John," said one of these venerable men,
" that thee doesn't believe in God: I never saw an atheist,
and I thought I should like to know the truth from thyself.”
"All a mistake," said 1, "I am no atheist. I do believe in
God the Father, and in " -
“Ah, but not in the Son: is it so ?”
“Another mistake,” said I. “I am no deist; though I
cannot believe that He who says, “My father is greater than
I,' can be the equal of the Father.”
- Then thee believes him to be only a man: is that it ? "
“ No, indeed, not I! I do not pretend to settle his rank:
I only feel that the very relationship of Father and Son im-
plies a difference, inequality, and subordination, if nothing
more."
6 But divine or human, he must be."
" Why so ? The angels are neither divine nor human :
are they?”
And here the controversy ended; and as I refused to ac-
knowledge the wrong they charged me with, and persisted in
desiring a dismissal from the society, not more for my own
sake than for theirs, they cut me off, but with great tender-
ness and consideration, assuring me, when it was all over,
that they did not despair of seeing me in the right path, at
some future day. How little did I think then, that I should
ever be what I am now — a professor of the orthodox faith ;
and full of amazement that I should have been spared so
long, and borne with so patiently, by our heavenly Father!
Two or three more cases, for illustration -- while a score,
which resulted in nothing, are passed over — and this chapter
will be ended.
Before I went abroad, I took lessons in boxing of a fellow
named Riley, a blacksmith, who had obtained a great reputa-
tion at Philadelphia, in some riot, which occurred there, and
came to Baltimore as a teacher of the “ noble art of self-de-
fence.” Large and powerful, — he was, at the best, a bungler,
loose and clumsy; and I learned little more of him than how
to take heavy blows without flinching. I was by far the
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
83
quicker and cleaner hitter, though by no means a match for
him, with my little experience, on account of his reach, and
weight of metal, and great bodily strength.
Soon after my arrival in England, I took lessons of Rich-
mond the black, whose battle with Tom Crib had given him
a prodigious reputation. He was a powerful, clumsy hitter,
but far from being a neat sparrer. Then of Eales, the quick- -
est man in England; and then of Ellard, a capital hand with --
the gloves, but of no account in the ring. I was now in my
thirtieth year, vigorous, well proportioned, five feet eight and
å half, and weighing only ten stone and a half, or 147 lbs.
Having sparred with many a prize-fighter of the day, and
interchanged hard knocks with Richmond, Ellard, and others,
to my entire satisfaction, I withdrew to my chambers, and,
while writing for the magazines, gave myself up to gymnas-
tics — the small-sword, sabre, cut and thrust, horsemanship, and
the cavalry exercise at Knightsbridge-barracks ; after which
followed two or three adventures, worth mentioning perhaps.
One evening, I was at the theatre with Chester Harding
and two or three friends, who did not wear hats, to see Miss
Foote in Letitia Hardy, after she had been led astray by
Colonel Berkley. I had been rather unwell for a week or ten
days, with a troublesome cold, and a slow fever; and, not know-
ing what to do with myself, had consented to join the party,
though tired of the stage. Feeling dry in the mouth, when
the play was about half through, I sent a boy to get me some
oranges. He loitered; and, growing impatient, and of course
irritable, I went after him. On my return, I found two
strangers in possession of our seats; my friend Harding, who .
had been left in charge, having yielded without remonstrance.
He saw what was brewing, I suppose ; for he took me aside
as I was about entering the box, and, pointing to the two
strangers, signified in a way not to be misunderstood, that
they had better not be meddled with. But I was in no
humor for trifling; and so I touched the nearest on the
shoulder, and told him that we had engaged the seats in ad-
vance, and that I had left mine for a few moments only.
But my gentleman persisted, without turning his head to look
at me. Upon this, I gave him an intimation that I had some-
thing further to say. He understood me, and started to his
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
feet, followed by his companion. “Will you give up the
seats you have taken?" said I. He laughed in my face —
being a larger man, almost as large as Harding himself. The
next moment, I collared him, and he was under my feet in a
twinkling; and his companion .so frightened, that all eyes
were upon him. Harding did not interfere ; and the gentle-
men withdrew; and we had no further trouble, though not a
blow was interchanged between us, and the affair was ended
so quickly, that there was no time for interference outside our
box.
Not long after this, a young Virginian arrived, who wanted
to see all that was worth seeing, in the shortest possible time.
Young Sully, Robert M., the painter, a nephew of Thomas
Sully, had known this young man, I believe, in Philadelphia ;
and wanted to do the honors. I had given up my drawing-
room to Sully, and obtained a few fine subjects for his pencil;
and, among others, Northcote the painter, whose portrait by
him is now — or was, not long ago — in the Philadelphia
Academy. After consulting with me, Sully undertook to
show his friends the lions; and soon after begged me to get
them both into the little Haymarket-theatre, where Liston
was then playing Paul Pry, night after night, to crowded
houses -- to houses so crowded, indeed, that, unless we would
consent to try the shilling gallery, there seemed to be no
chance for us, and the young Virginian couldn't wait.
I succeeded in securing seats for all three, just under the
eaves, on a sweltering close night, when, if every thing had
gone on smoothly, it would have been somewhat difficult for
any reasonable man to keep his temper. When the play was
about half through, I heard a bustle at the door, just beyond.
the Virginian; and a big burly fellow appeared, with a drab
overcoat on, such as served to distinguish the “ Fancy," and,
with his castor tilted over one ear, trying to force himself into
our seat, and swearing he would come in, whether or no.
Not much liking the fellow's behavior, I stepped forward,
and took my station where he would have to encounter me
first. He had begun flourishing his fists about, and every-
body had given way to him, until he saw me, planted before
him, and standing up with my feet on two benches, fronting
the passage-way. Whether he did not much like my attitude
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
85
and bearing, or happened not to take a fancy to the expres-
sion of my countenance — for I have reason to believe that I
was deadly pale -- I do not know; but his long arms dropped
gradually lower and lower, and he sheered off out of my way,
and took a seat in front of us. The people about me hissed
him; and so he set his castor in such a way as to intercept
our view. I remonstrated; but he paid no attention to me.
I then reached over, and, touching him on the shoulder,
begged him to take off his hat. He would see me d d first.
" Then,” said I, “I shall have to take it off for you.” He
would like to see me do it. No sooner said than done: I
reached over, and, snatching the hat from his head, was just
on the point of shying it into the pit, when it occurred to me
that I might “bring down the house,” without intending it;
and I forebore. Upon this, my gentleman swore a monstrous
oath; and I caught him by the collar, and being above him, a
whole bench higher, with all the purchase I needed, I drew
him up with one hand and set him on his feet by main force,
and then planted myself right in his way. Such a shout,
and such a volume of hissing and half-smothered laughter, fol-
lowed, that all eyes from below were turned up to the gallery.
But, as he made no further demonstrations, I turned round to
give a hint to my friends; and, when I looked again, my
formidable antagonist was nowhere to be seen. He had
slipped away, and was probably waiting for me in the narrow
passage behind. This I did not half like; and so, begging
Sully to take my watch, and both to see fair play, I waited
the issue. But, lo! when I went out, nothing was to be seen
of the foolish blusterer; and I escaped with a whole skin,
greatly to my satisfaction, I promise you.
And then followed a transaction, which grew out of another
visit to the theatre, to oblige a friend. Kean was playing
Richard Webster, a Scotch barrister, with whom I had be-
come acquainted at Angelo's fencing-rooms, where we used to
try our hands on each other, with the Scotch broad-sword, cut
and thrust, and small sword, weapons he handled like a mas-
ter, had never seen the great tragedian in this character,
though I had, more than once.
The house was crowded, crammed; and, soon after we had
taken possession of our places, Webster sitting with me and
86
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
two other friends, who were of the party - George Bentham
the nephew, and Richard Doane the private secretary, of Jer-
emy Bentham, taking seats in the rear a little way off — at a
very interesting passage of the play, I happened to look down,
and saw a young handsome woman trying to get a glimpse of
the stage from her standing-place in the alley on my left.
Pitying her from my soul, for I saw by the expression of her
countenance that she was no theatre-goer, and that she was
unable to see or hear, I stooped over, and told her if she
would step up on the floor of the seat I occupied, I would
make all the room I could for her. She was very thankful;
and, after consultation with a friend at her elbow, she con-
sented, and took her place by my side. But, after a few
minutes, I found her in danger of falling, and proposed put-
ting my left arm round her waist, and taking hold of the
next seat with my left hand. Soon after this, I heard some
growling on my right, from a party of roughs, next beyond
Webster, with their doxies; and then I heard him say, “You'd
better be quiet, my mon, or ye may find yoursel' in the wrong
box. If you want a quarrel though, you can be accommo-
dated.” —"I don't want a quarrel with you, nor with your
puppy neither,” said the fellow, glancing at me, as he spoke.
Whereupon, though Webster tried to dissuade me, and was
for taking the business into his own hands, I begged the
young woman to let me off, my left arm being nearly para-
lyzed ; and then, drawing off my gloves, and taking a seat
beyond Webster, I leaned over, and asked the fellow if that
was meant for me. He made some insolent reply, and I
struck him a heavy blow on the mouth, with the back of my
hand; but, most unfortunately, the woman at his side, sitting
between him and me, thought proper to interfere, at a most
unseasonable moment, by thrusting her head forward, and re-
ceived my arm athwart her mouth; and both began bleeding
profusely. I was horror-struck; and though I apologized on
the spot, endeavoring to soothe her, and telling her how sorry
I was, and that she ought to have interfered before, or not at
all, I expected nothing less than a battle royal, there being
three of them, and all clad in fighting gear, and two of us,
with reinforcements behind. “But probably, as the police did
not show themselves, and I stood up, and there was no row,
QUARRELSOME OR NOT?
87
the whole was taken for a misunderstanding, or an accident.
But my man, who was evidently in earnest, leaned over, and
in a low voice, boding mischief, said he should be ready for
me after the play. I assented, and, after the play was
through, touched his arm, and signified that I was entirely at
his service; and then, -taking Webster with me, who appeared
to enjoy the prospect amazingly, made my way to the door,
expecting to be followed by the insolent blackguard and his
two drab-coated companions. But no: they had other fish to
fry; and I saw no more of them.
And here ended, with half a dozen trivial exceptions, my
adventures in this line, till, about three years ago, when, at
the age of threescore and ten, I was betrayed into an out-
burst of temper, which ended with my pitching a big burly
Irishman, head-first, down the stairway, leading to my office
at the risk of breaking the poor fellow's limbs, if not his neck.
I had borne till I could bear no longer. He was making a
tremendous uproar; and, when I ordered him off, he swore
he wouldn't budge a hair's-breadth. I was unwilling to strike
him, unless obliged to do so, though he flourished his arms
about me, like a windmill in a hurricane; but I pitched him
headlong down a steep flight of stairs, with such violence,
owing to the opposition he offered, that he struck first on the
third or fourth step from the bottom - God forgive me!--
and might have been crippled for life ; but he soon recovered
himself, got up and walked off, to the amazement of all who
saw him on his way down, without staggering or limping,
and I heard no more of him. But enough — too much per-
haps for a professor of religion, at my age. Since then, I -
have led a very quiet life --- comparatively.
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER VII.
SPIRITUAL GROWTH.
QUAKER PREACHING; UNIVERSALISM; A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE; SPROUT-
ING OF METAPHYSICS; LANGUAGE; FREE AGENCY.
JAN. 27, 1867.- At last, after many interruptions, two or
three head-flaws, and no little embarrassment in my building
operations, I am able to go on with my story. Within the
last month, and long since I began the last chapter, we have
had two of the toughest and heaviest snow-storms I ever
saw; and are now up to the waist in another, which threatens
to stop all intercourse with the rest of the world, to obliterate
all our thoroughfares, and highways and fences and land-
marks, if not to bury us up altogether.
And yet, our people are swarming to their work, early and
late; the city is going up silently through the deep snow,
block after block, and street after street. Prodigious improve-
ments are under way; and arrangements are in progress,
before the city, for loaning two millions, upon mortgage, to
the sufferers who most need help, to finish what they have
undertaken.
I have been very busy, not only writing for the magazines,
where, as my papers are almost always thrown off at a single
heat, there is no danger of repetition, and not much of for-
getting what I had to say; but in carrying on the work of
our common hive, until I have no less than three new dwelling-
houses finished and occupied, and two others, of a larger size
and loftier pretensions, well under way, together with a large
warehouse on Exchange Street; all of which will be ready
for occupation before the first of April, D.V.
And now I begin to breathe freely once more, and hope to
go on, for a while at least, without crossing my tracks, or
repeating myself, as I may have done heretofore; having so
SPIRITUAL GROWTH.
89
much to say, and so little time to say it in. For who can
remember all he has written, or intended to write, if interrup-
tions are frequent, or hindrances occur to put him out, as if
he were adding up a column of figures for the treasury de-
partment?
To the question therefore. Properly speaking, I had no
religious education, and very little of any other. Having
been put behind a counter in a retail haberdashery, at the
age of twelve, unacquainted with every thing now taught in
our coinmon schools, except reading, writing, and arithmetic —
the three R's, you know — and never having been to school
since, for a single day, I claim to be — not uneducated, as all
are said to be, who have not been pushed through college, but
self-educated. By this, I do not mean that I never attended
a course of lectures, or that I never took lessons in horseman-
ship, sparring, or the small-sword; or that I never had a
language-master, long enough to give me the pronunciation,
at least, after which I have always taken charge of myself;
but only that I never went to school, after I was twelve.
When I was not more than six — or seven, at the outside,
judging by what I have since been told — my mother gave
me half a dollar for reading the Bible through. It was a
tough job; and I thought I earned the money, long before I
had ploughed through the Pentateuch, with all the strange
laws, and stranger ceremonies and bloody sacrifices, though I
was delighted beyond measure with the warlike achievements
of Moses and Joshua, and with the stories about Samson and
Gideon and Saul, and the witch of Endor, and was quite
carried away with the tremendous visions of the Apocalypse.
I remember, too, with what eagerness I read portions of the
Apocrypha, which I found, without warning, between the
canonical books of the Old and New Testament, and received
for scripture — I have that very Bible before me now,
5 printed by Isaac Collins, Trenton, 1791” – thinking them
quite equal to the stories I had met with about Rome and
Greece, or the Seven Labors of Hercules; and that, on the
whole, the Adventures of Bel and the Dragon, of Judith and
Holofernes, of Susanna and the Elders, and the terrible wars
of Judas Maccabæus, were quite as entertaining, and much of
a piece with those of the Paladins, the Seven Champions
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
of Christendom, or the Knights of the Round Table. But
the reading, I am afraid, was of little or no advantage to me,
otherwise. It led to great confusion of thought, a hankering
for the marvellous, at an age when I was incapable of distin-
guishing the true from the false, or Bible stories from the
stories I met with in a score of other books; and I read
every thing that fell in my way. I believe, too, that my dear
mother made a great mistake, when she hired me to read the
Bible through and through, without help or guidance; and that
the deepest and most abiding impressions made upon me
were of a nature to harden my heart, instead of softening it.
I read of Joseph and his brethren, to be sure, of the Prodigal
Son, of Queen Esther and Mordecai, and of David and Jon-
athan, with as much pleasure as I did the “ Arabian Nights ;"
but never so that I understood their teaching. To me, it was
the great and terrible God, not the loving Father, I had
become acquainted with. It was Jehovah, the uncreated,
the everlasting, and the unchangeable, and not Christ, the
tender and compassionate, I had been hearing so much of.
I can almost see myself now, through the testimony of
another, a little golden-haired boy, with large blue eyes, very
beautiful teeth, and the complexion of a girl, poring over
the great Book of wonders, in breathless awe, hour after
hour, and month after month, until my task was finished;
and the revelations went by me like a pageant, and were lost
for ever in the darkness that followed.
We had no Bible-classes, and no sabbath-schools, in that
day; and, among the Friends, neither creeds vor catechism.
Nor do I remember, that, up to the age of sixteen, I had ever
heard a chapter of the Bible read aloud anywhere, by any-
body; though it must have been used in some way at the
school my mother kept, in the old brick meeting-house ; for
I well remember the reply of a boy, named Hannaford,
who, when asked if they had a Bible in the house, answered
they had a Holy Bible; and that, in consequence of some
provocation -- I know not what -- I found myself one day
kicking a Bible from the steps of the school-house into the
street, and then following it up, for a rod or two, before I
came to my senses.
Yet my mother was a sincere and earnest follower of the
SPIRITUAL GROWTH.
91
Great Teacher, though she made no pretensions to special
godliness, and never opened her mouth in meeting; and most
of the Friends I ever knew, with here and there an excep-
tion, were devout inquirers after the truth, full of quiet
reverence for the Scriptures, and obedient always to what
they regarded as the promptings of the Holy Spirit.
At Windham-school, to be sure, we used to be puzzled
now and then, after the exercises of the First-day were over,
with questions out of the Bible — not in the Bible, I am
sure — till I was ready to drop off the bench, overcome with
sleep; our master, Noah Reed, a devout man, though rather
harsh, having no mercy on us at such a time, so long as
he could keep himself awake. Well do I remember the
“ strawy fire” that pestered me through my half-shut eyes,
and my utter weariness of spirit, body, and soul, as the ques-
tions were solemnly propounded, in a way to frighten the
oldest and wisest. And when he asked who was the brother
of Christ, child though I was, it startled me, as if he had
asked who was the brother of God himself, the Ancient of
Days: I had wholly forgotten what was said in Matthew
about the carpenter's son, and his brethren, James and Joses,
and Simeon and Judas. To me it seemed like blasphemy
not merely irreverence, but blasphemy; though, even then, I
had taken a distinction between the Father and Son, which
I have never been able to dispossess myself of, notwith-
standing my changes of opinion, year after year, till I had
adopted what is called the orthodox, or evangelical faith.
As I heard no preaching outside of the. Quaker meeting-
house, till I had reached the age of sixteen or eighteen, I
knew little of the opinions that prevailed among our neigh-
bors, whether Baptists or Methodists, orthodox or heterodox.
Of one thing, however, I began to feel sure that, say what
people would about “Quaker sly and Presbyterian sour," the
Quakers were in earnest; for had I not seen Edward Cobb,
a wise and good man, of large experience, who had come
over to their faith at the age of thirty-five, grow pale as
death, and tremble from head to foot, and break out into a
profuse perspiration, when he rose to speak, as the Spirit
moved him, a few simple words, which, of themselves,
amounted to little or nothing, but which were made impres-
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
sive by the man's evident sincerity — like those of Paul,
where, “in bodily presence weak, in speech contemptible," he
ministered to the brethren ? And had I not seen Greely
Hannaford, another proselyte, in the strength of his man-
hood, while repeating the words, “ He was made a priest,
after the order of Melchisedec," apropos to nothing, falter
and hesitate, as if he were on trial for life, and had been
called upon to say guilty or not guilty ?
I would not speak irreverently of what I saw, for the
impression made upon me was deep and lasting; but I did
not understand the symptoms, and of course had no belief on
the subject, save that I did not question the sincerity of
my grandfather Neal, Remington Hobby, Thankful Hussey,
Phebe Cobb, and the public Friends who came to us from
abroad; after one of whom, Rachel Wilson, my mother was
named. But I must acknowledge that I thought most of
their preaching very tiresome, religion itself a terrible bug-
bear, and the promptings of the Holy Spirit any thing but
desirable.
Nevertheless, I had my misgivings; and at the age of ten,
having struck a very amiable boy, not in anger, but in play,
while we were tumbling about on the hay-mow, and the
poor fellow having soon after fallen sick, with what used
to be called the throat-distemper, I began to be troubled
o' nights, and then to fear that he owed his death, which
soon followed, to that unlucky blow in the side. It was very
childish, to be sure; but I had no confidant, I was afraid
even to trust my mother; and I do believe now, that I might
have been easily persuaded that I was a murderer, and that
the Avenger of blood was after me, had the testimony of my
conscience been taken for truth. Yet the blow was given in
sport, while we were playing together; we were the best of
friends, and nothing had ever happened between us, to disturb
the relationship. It could not have been very severe, though
it doubled him up, and he complained for a few moments
that he could not get his breath. I was frightened, and man-
aged to steal away, as soon as I could; though he did not
appear to mind it, after a few minutes. What business had
my conscience here? —that conscience which “makes cowards
of us all.” I had really done nothing wrong; and yet, I
SPIRITUAL GROWTH.
93
could not sleep, and, month after month, was in continual
dread of being found out.
Long after this, I happened to be out one evening in the
neighborhood of Clay-cove, where Elias Smith, the great
Universalist, was holding forth. I had never seen the inside
of any other meeting-house, or church, than that of the
Friends, unless I except the old Episcopal Church, when it was
bought up, and carried away bodily by my uncle James; and
St. Stephen's, when it was going up, and I, a little barefooted
boy, used to go there for chips. I do not remember the text,
nor the sermon; but I do remember that I took a prodigious
fancy to the preacher, he was so funny; resembling Rowland
Hill and Lorenzo Dow, and Henry Ward Beecher, in his
way of dealing with the questions of the day, as I have since
had good reasons for believing. And I continued to hear
him, at long intervals, and with uncommon pleasure, till he
removed to Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where I frequently.
found myself at his evening meetings. He was bold, hazard-
ous, and original; and, I have no doubt, was in a measure
answerable for my becoming, after many years, a Universal-
ist, and a sincere Universalist; in which faith I continued,
long after I had become a Unitarian, up to the age of fifty-
eight, when I underwent, as I hope and believe, a final change
for the better, in all that belongs to religious belief.
My father's library consisted of “No cross, no crown,"
Barclay's “ Apology," " Journal of Job Scott,” Young's “ Night
Thoughts," and Thomas à Kempis; all which I read, along
with “ Robinson Crusoe," the“ Arabian Nights," " Don
Quixote," “ Caroline of Litchfield,” “ Aurora, or the Mys-
terious Beauty,” “The Adventures of a Guinea," “ Tom
Jones," " Charlotte Temple,” Reuben and Rachel ;” in
short, every thing I could lay my hands on, with heaps of
magazines, year after year, up to the age of eighteen, when
I took a new start, with Ferguson's Astronomy, Curran's
Speeches, Plutarch's Lives, Millot's General History, and
other works of a similar character, which had been taken for
debt by Mr. Benjamin Willis, with whom I was then living,
as a sort of understrapper, at forty dollars a year, with board
and washing — not mending ; I was too far gone for that. .
The very first sabbath, after I had entered upon my duties
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
in the store, and was charmingly done up for the occasion, I
tried to make one of the family, as they set off on their way to
church; but, to my unspeakable mortification, they headed me
off, and I was invited to go somewhere else, and I lost the
only opportunity of hearing Unitarianism preached, for many
a long year.
Meanwhile, I had given up the Friends' meeting altogether,
on week-days; and in pleasant weather, used to go wandering
by myself, or occasionally with a single companion, through
all the neighboring woods and fields, and along by the sea-
shore, on the sabbath; but always, I must acknowledge, with
a secret feeling of uneasiness, and with many a wish that some
place of worship, other than the Friends' meeting-house,
were open to me.
From my earliest recollection, I was a critic in language;
and had a relish for metaphysics, I find now, though I did not
know it, at the time. For example, while yet in petticoats, I
remember being much exercised by a remark made in my
presence, about a bed we children had been making up on the
floor. When we were asked what it was, and somebody
answered a bed, my mother laughed, and said she should
call it "a bed with a witness to it." With a witness to it!
What could she mean? Were we not all witnesses to it, one
as much as another? And to this day, I am not very clear
upon the subject, and would give something to know how it
originated.
Some years after this, when I must have been about nine,
jndging by other circumstances, I was greatly perplexed at
hearing somebody say, that an orange he gave me would eat
well; though I adopted the phrase, and lost no time in writing
to my sister and telling her I should keep it for her, till I saw
her again -- she was at Falmouth, where my mother was
teaching school - because it would “eat well." But I was
not entirely satisfied, and never used it again, having already
am constantly hearing people of education say, it reads so
and so.
About the same time, I had another experience, which I do
not exaggerate in saying, has haunted me from that day to this.
On taking up one of Hopkins's razor-strops, then just coming
SPIRITUAL GROWTH.
95
into use, my eye fell upon the printed directions. They read
somewhat after this fashion: “If you want a smooth shave,
lay the razor flat; otherwise, it will produce quite a contrary
effect.” Of course, the poor man, with whom, by the way, I
had something to do, many years later in life, while writing
- Allen's History of the Revolution,” should have said a dif-
ferent effect, instead of a contrary effect; for how could a cut
be contrary to a shave? or, if he meant, that if the razor were
not laid flat, instead of a smooth shave, it would be rough, why
the plague didn't he say so ?
In this way, I went on, step by step, year after year, till I
heard a very clever woman talk about an egregious thunder- -
storm, without strangling her upon the spot; and no less a
personage than John McLean, a student of Aaron Burr's,
and one of Dewitt Clinton's judges, declare that, in the High-
lands, they had just had an “elegant thunder-storm,” without
calling him out; and others to this day, not only talking, but
writing, about this and that being redolent of genius or sun-
shine, with twaddle for twatile, and restive for restless. .
Meanwhile, I had removed to Portsmouth, and one day
happening to be altogether alone, with a volume of Rees's
Cyclopædia, then just received, lying open before me, I came
upon the following paragraph, in substance: I do not under-
take to give the words ; for I have not seen them since, and
know not where to find them: “God does not threaten,
that man may sin, and so be punished; but that he may not
sin, and so escape. Therefore, the higher the threatening
runs, the greater the goodness of God.”
Here was a tremendous fallacy; and yet, if the premises
were granted -- and who would think of denying them?
how could we.escape the conclusion ? If true, then the laws
of Draco, which were said to be written with blood, because
they punished every transgression with death, might be so
many proofs of goodness in the lawgiver. I was not a logi-
cian. I knew little or nothing of logic, though I had gone
through with Aristotle ; but I understood the use of language
for common purposes, and had, beyond all question, a great
natural aptitude for metaplıysics. From that moment, a new
world was open to me. I began to feel acquainted with
myself. I was no longer afraid to meddle with prohibited
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
themes — with God's foreknowledge and man's freedom -
por unwilling to investigate any subject that fell in my way.
My church-going at Portsmouth was regular, but whimsi-
cally varied. I had a seat in the Episcopal Church, where
Dr. Burroughs had just been settled ; and I went once every
sabbath, after dining with my old master, Rundlet, to hear
Dr. Buckminster; and almost every sabbath-evening, to hear
Elias Smith; but, I must acknowledge, without growing
either wiser or better. I went, I hardly know why; because I
had no pleasanter way of passing the time, perhaps, or be-
cause other people went, with whom I associated.
After this, I went back to Portland, where I sometimes
heard Dr. Nichols and Dr. Payson, and sometimes a Univer-
salist or a Methodist; and thence to Bath, where I sat for a
while under the teachings of Dr. Jenks; thence to Augusta,
where I attended Dr. Toppan's church; thence to Boston,
where I first heard Edward Everett, and then Mr. Hunting-
don of the Old South, for a pastor; and thence to New York,
where I heard Dr. Mason, Dr. Nott, and others of that school;
and thence to Baltimore, where, after attending Dr. Inglis for
a twelvemonth or so, I took a pew in the Unitarian Church,
when Mr. Sparks was settled, and continued there, until I
went abroad; where, after hearing Dr. Raffles at Liverpool,
and Edward Irving in London, and a few of the established
faith, I gave up church-going altogether, and spent my sab-
baths I hardly know how - sometimes botanizing through the
regions round about London ; sometimes visiting distant neigh-
borhoods for a walk, with John Stuart Mill, Roebuck, Walter
Coulson, and others; and sometimes upon the parallel bars, the
rack, or the wooden horse, in Mr. Bentham's great garden.
After my return to my native town -- having made up my
mind to settle on my lees, if I could do nothing better - I
began to church it once a day, and, after my marriage, some-
what oftener; and at last became a regular attendant twice
a day at Dr. Chickering's church, where, in course of time, I
i was led to see things in a different light, and became a pro-
fessor of the orthodox type, eschewing both Universalism and
Unitarianism, as not only unsatisfying, but as, in my judgment,
: both unwholesome and unsafe.
It will be seen by the foregoing account of my course, for
SPIRITUAL GROWTH.
97
.
the greater part of my life, that I had opportunities enough, and
of the best kind, for forming my opinions. All the preachers
I heard were able and sincere, and some greatly distinguished.
But still my mind was not made up; I was not satisfied with
what I heard and saw, and might have gone on to the end,
from pillar to post, had not my eyes been opened most un-
expectedly in 1851, soon after which, I became a member of
the High-street Church, where I have continued from that
day to this, and where I hope to die.
While in Baltimore, and sitting under the ministration of
Mr. Sparks, my mind was accidentally determined upon a
question I had never before investigated. Sitting with Mr.
Pierpont one day, while I was studying law, and trying to cut
my own fodder — with my pen - something was said about
motives, or what Bentham calls the “springs of action ;” and
he asked me two questions : first, whether we are governed by
motives; and, secondly, whence our motives originated. I
answered, as best I could, maintaining that, as reasonable
beings, we must be governed by motives; and then that,
whether reasonable or unreasonable, it must be the same, and
that even the brutes were governed by motives. Further-
more, after feeling about in the dark for a while, I contended
that motives did not originate with us, but were influences
from abroad, coming and going without our consent, and not
only influencing, but determining our actions.
Seeing where this would lead me, my excellent friend be-
came alarmed, and undertook to lay the devil he had raised,
by comparing the mind to a pair of scales, in which motives
were to be weighed, as we called them up; but he was too
late. Nor did his explanation help the matter. It was begging
the question. If we had power to call up motives, or reasons,
what was that but originating motives and reasons ?
He appealed to my consciousness; but consciousness, like
the senses, might be deceived. Although it were true that we
always act as if we knew ourselves to be free — and all our
plans and calculations are founded upou that belief, and we
may verify the fact at any moment by lifting a hand, or for-
bearing — still these facts would not be conclusive; and they
might exist, even if we were not free agents. Unless we can
originate our motives, without help or hindrance, we are not
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
S
free. Nay, more: there can be but one Being in the universe,
of whom free-agency may be predicated.
“But why so? ” asked my friend, with a troubled expression
I never shall forget.
“Because we act from motives, and these motives are out-
side of us. They come from our constitutions, our habits, our
parentage, our education, and from all the surroundings of
our life.”
6 But does not God act from motive ?” he asked.
“ Certainly," I replied.
“ Then we are as free as God is; and what more would we
have?"
“Ah! but his motives are not like our motives. They are
rather purposes than motives; or, at any rate, if he be influ-
enced by any motive outside of himself, then that motive is
God, and so far even God himself is not free.”
By this time, I had got bewildered. My head ached; and
I felt as if I was stretching out my arms over a fathomless
abyss, and groping for truth in the secret place of thunder.
He did all be could to divert my attention from the subject,
and tried to satisfy me with arguments and explanations,
which I am quite sure had never satisfied himself. This I
resented, and straightway determined to investigate the awful
question, patiently and faithfully and reverentially step
by step, lead me whithersoever it might. Soon after this, I
met with the correspondence between Frederick and Voltaire;
and then with Reid, who undertook to show that transgression
depends not upon the act, but upon the will, thereby following
out the doctrines of our Saviour; and therefore, if we choose
to disobey, though in fact we might be unable to obey, our
guilt is the same as if in fact we were able. By way of illus-
tration, he supposes a man to be confined in jail. He is
ordered to go out. He refuses to stir. Now, although the
prison-doors should be locked and barred, yet if the man did
not know this, but refused to go out, and even to make the
attempt while he supposed the doors to be open, the disobe-
dience being an act of the will, and in po way dependent upon
the fact of the doors being open, he justly incurs the punish-
ment. Believing himself to be free, he sins just as much as
if he were free. I do not pretend to give the language : I
SPIRITUAL GROWTH.
99
only give the substance of the argument, as I remember it.
And this not only satisfied the great metaphysician, but was
published to the world to satisfy others. To me, it was but
miserable trifling. If we are not in fact free, and it should
come to be known hereafter that we have been under a delu-
sion from the first, when we believed ourselves free and
that the prison-doors were locked and barred, when we sup-
posed them to be wide open — the whole problem will re-
solve itself into a question of fact, not of belief. And then
is it possible that we are to be punished for disobeying, when
it was impossible to obey, only because we did not happen to
know that it was impossible?
Soon after this, the same question was raised in our club
- the Delphian club; and I went over the whole ground, not
in a speech - no, thank Heaven! — but in conversation, with
Paul Allen, Mr. Pierpont, and others, until I had convinced
myself anew, that only one Being in the wide universe could
be free --- free, that is, from all outward influences; and that,
therefore, man, not being a free agent, was not accountable.
At this time, God's foreknowledge had not been much in my
way, thongh Reid had undertaken to show that God's fore-
knowledge had nothing more to do with man's free agency,
than God's memory - the future, like the past, being unaffected
by that knowledge. Mere metaphysics, thought I; and, from
that time forward, I met with nothing, although I read every
work I heard of, upon the subject, until Edwards on the Will
turned up in my path, which afforded me any satisfaction.
Before I had touched bottom, however, I happened to go
North, on a visit to Portland, where my mother and sister
lived; having completed my law studies, and being ready
for admission to the bar on my return. While at Boston,
my old friend Lee agreed to take a trip to Portland with me.
But, when the coach called for us, he came running in, all
out of breath, and looking rather pale, to say that Dr. Payson
was aboard. “Well, what if he is?” said I. “Only this,
that I sha’n’t go to-day," was the reply. “ Pooh, pooh! what
do you care for Dr. Payson ?” said I. “He was my old pre-
ceptor in the academy, and I should like to meet him once
more, now that I have shoes and stockings to my feet; and
you, surely, my friend, you will not refuse to see your own
pastor ? "
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
I knew that Lee had attended Dr. Payson's church, and I
had been told at one time, that he had been quite serious
under the powerful preaching of this great and good man; but
the seriousness had worn off, and now I saw that he was
afraid to meet him. I expostulated ; and at last he yielded,
saying, as he did so, that we shouldn't have any fun till we
reached Portland. “Why so ?” I asked. “Oh! he is so
solemn," said Lee; and he never loses an opportunity of
preaching. I don't know what I would give to hear him
laugh once -- just once.”
" Very well,” said I; “ we'll make him laugh.”
66 A bottle o' wine you can't."
“Done!” said I; "and, what is more, I'll make him laugh,
and laugh heartily too, before we pass Charlestown bridge.”
I was as good as my word. We had a very pleasant play-
ful conversation for the first half-hour, and I told two or three
stories which “ brought down the house."
At last-I know not how, for I did not introduce it — we
got upon the subject of free-agency; and we battled the
watch for about one hundred miles, to the amazement of poor
Lee, and the horror of two church-members, who caught their
breath, and rolled up their eyes, whenever the doctor spoke
to them. Once or twice, I thought him rather uncivil, and
told him so. Two or three times he tried me with a fallacy,
which I refused to swallow; and counselled him to reserve his
milk for babes, and give me lions' meat, if he had any to
spare. When we parted, he shook hands with me, and
seemed desirous of a further, if not a better, acquaintance,
which I did not much wonder at, for I had been rather saucy
at times ; but we never met again. The next day, the whole
town was alive with reports of our controversy, and the First
Parish all agog; their pastor, the amiable and excellent Dr.
Nichols, and Dr. Payson, both Misters at the time, and both
young men, being at loggerheads.
On my return to Baltimore, I found Dr. Tobias Watkins,
the editor and proprietor of the “ Portico," for which I had
been writing, just ready to set off on a tour of inspection,
as one of the assistant surgeon-generals of the United States
Army. He insisted on my taking charge of that journal,
which had begun to appear quarterly, instead of monthly, and
SPIRITUAL GROWTH.
101
was always behind; assuring me that all the copy I should
want was ready, and that I had only to write a few pages,
at most.
I consented : but lo, and behold! as we say Down-East, I
found, when it was too late, and he was five or six hundred
miles beyond my reach, that he had little or nothing prepared.
I had to go to work therefore, and write a large part of the
whole number, more than two-thirds, I believe. It was there,
that my article headed “Man not a Free Agent," appeared
at full length, and I may add, in full weight; for it sunk the
“ Portico” at her moorings, or, at any rate, our friend
Watkins being sadly embarrassed, not another number ap-
peared.
The conclusions I reached there, was, that man is not a
free agent, his convictions to the contrary, notwithstanding;
and that the foreknowledge of God was of itself enough to
prove this ; because if God foreknows an event, that event
must happen, and cannot be contingent, whether man be free,
or not.
But, within a few years, I have grown afraid of myself,
and still more afraid of controversy ; holding that God's fore-
knowledge and man's freedom, the origin of evil, and the neces-
sity of transgression - perhaps that suffering may follow -
and then charity and brotherly love, and self-denial, and self-
sacrifice, and all the Christian graces, and pity, and sympathy,
and patience, and submission, and resignation, - are among the
unfathomable mysteries, which we cannot hope to understand,
until it shall please Him to enlarge our faculties, and we
become “as gods, knowing good from evil;” that we are
bound to draw a line between the knowable and the unknow-
able, and the sooner the better, and never try to pass the
bounds of the knowable, however tempted; that we must
believe on the evidence of our senses, where the senses are
witnesses, without regard to the testimony of our understand-
ings, where a contradiction is found, notwithstanding all that
we hear and see of jugglers, and notwithstanding the fact
that all our senses are found to play us false sometimes.
Being put here, not for speculation, but for action, and being
endowed with senses, which hurry us to a thousand instan-
taneous conclusions, at every step we take on our senses
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
we must rely, and do rely in all the business of life - it cannot
be otherwise - leaving our reason to follow at leisure.
According to the evidence of our senses, and of our con-
sciousness, we are free - free enough to render us accountable
beings, though neither omnipotent nor omnipresent; and al-
though we may reason ourselves into a contrary belief, with
our present limited knowledge of a supreme intelligence,
we cannot help deciding against ourselves, when we come
to action; in other words, we cannot help acting against
our own convictions.
Let me add, that, as in our Father's house there are many
mansions, so, I believe, are there many different ways
of reaching those mansions — many different ways, there-
fore, of being right. My own experience, or what I have
chosen to call, in the heading of this chapter, “spiritual
grorth," has satisfied me that the higher we go in our Chris-
tian life, the less sensible is our progress, not only to our-
selves, but to others. It is like going up a mountain ; and
that, even though we are called at the eleventh hour, we have
always a day's work to do, with so much less time to do it in.
Perhaps a hint or two may not be thrown away here. I
Tras habitually profane: a friend, in no way remarkable for
talent, or position, remonstrated with me; and I gave up the
practice.
I went to church once a day, and never more, till another
friend suggested in a quiet, unpretending way, that perhaps
I might find it worth while to go twice a day. Since then,
and that was twenty years ago, I should think, I have always
been twice a day, and sometimes oftener, unless prevented by
something serious.
When about being married, my wife's mother, a pious
woman of the Orthodox faith, and a member of Dr. Payson's
church, expressed a fear that I should carry off her daughter
bodily to the Unitarian, or Universalist Church. I said, “No:
she may go where she pleases, and I will go with her. For
myself, I do not care what church I attend, if the preacher is
honest and faithful.” And the consequence was, that, after our
marriage, we settled down together, in the family pew, under
the preaching of Dr. Tyler, and then of Dr. Vail, successors
of Dr. Payson; and reinained there till our translation above
HPIRITUAL GROWTH.
103
do
High Street, where we continued our attendance --- first, under
the pastorship of Mr. Beckweth, and then of Ml., now Dr.
Chickering until the year 1851, when my sister - my only
sister - my wife, and myself, were all admitted to the Church,
on the same day. Since then my sister, my mother, and many
more of my beloved ones, including a son and a daughter,
have all passed away, leaving us to prepare, as best we nay,
for the meeting hereafter.
Incidents, little regarded at the time, and hardly worth
mentioning in after life, not unfrequently determine our
whole course on earth. Had I not been remonstrated with,
by a devout and humble Christian, I might never have aban-
doned the habit of cursing and swearing, never have gone
twice a day to church, and never have become, what I pro-
fess to be now, a follower of the meek and lowly Jesus. Am
I wrong in saying thus much of what I have chosen to call.
“ spiritual growth”? May it not be of some use to others
a help, and not a hindrance; a word of encouragement, if
nothing more?
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER VIII.
SELF-EDUCATION.
ABSURDITIES OF ENGLISH GRAMMAR; FIRST ESSAYS IN DRAWING AND
PAINTING; MISCELLANEOUS READING; MORTIFICATION; FRENCH, SPAN-
ISH, AND OTHER LANGUAGES; OUTLINE OF STUDY; LITERARY LABORS;
SPARRING, FENCING, AND GYMNASTICS.
FEB. 6, 1867.-- Another heavy snow-storm last night, with
sleet and rain, which, if the whole city were not roofed in,
would have played the very mischief with us. The two
millions proposed for a building-loan have dwindled down
to one million, just when we wanted the sum enlarged ; and
yet, with one million, wisely apportioned, no one being al-
lowed to borrow over fifteen thousand dollars, what may not
be accomplished by the industrious and enterprising, though
we do have to pay government-interest for the loan? The
bill goes before the legislature to-day or to-morrow. And
now for self-education.
The best-educated man is, after all, more self-educated
than he is any thing else. What we do for ourselves in the
way of education, no human being can do for us. And the
simple fact, that the self-educated make a boast of it, shows
that they think themselves entitled to greater commendation,
for doing what they have done without help, and that there-
fore help is an advantage, the help of others, even in their
estimation. To brag that you have made your way without
the help of a collegiate course, what is it, after all, but an
admission that a collegiate course has its advantages ? And
so it has; but look at the disadvantages. You grow to a
mould; you adopt the opinions of your teacher, not always,
indeed, but so generally, that, if you know where a man has
been educated, you know what his views and opinions are
upon a great variety of subjects — in literature, in philosophy,
in languages, and sometimes in politics and religion.
SELF-EDUCATION.
105
Feb. 19, 1867. – Another snow-storm, though nothing
serious; and I am able once more to take up the thread of
my story. Weather, all we could wish for — cold, clear, and
bracing; and everywhere the work goes bravely on.
Let me proceed, therefore, with what I had to say about
self-education, preliminary to my own large and varied ex-
perience. Having mastered the rudiments of a common —
I might say the commonest - education, for New England,
with the help of my mother, who was quite famous for read-
ing, writing, and arithmetic, and never made a mistake in
spelling; and of Master Boyce, Master Reed, Master Patten,
Master Grego, Master Moody, and Preceptor Payson, I was
put behind a counter, at the age of twelve, and there left to
earn my own living, as best I might; in other words, to shift
for myself.
I must have written a good hand for a boy of that age; for
I well remember that a Mr. Warren, who had made up a
large in voice with us," and who was himself one of the
most beautiful penmen I ever knew, insisted on having
the bills made out by me, on account of my handwriting.
But, so far as I can trust my recollection, my style was
unfixed, and chiefly remarkable for freedom and flourish,
wanting both uniformity and precision. With me, indeed,
penmanship was an art. I had a passion for it, as my father
and mother had before me; my mother having few equals
with the pen, and my father none at all. From my earliest
recollection, I was in the habit of writing “pieces" for exhi-
bition, and ornamenting them with flourishes, colored or
emblazoned, in gamboge, or vermilion, and touched off with
indigo — exceedingly barbarous, I must acknowledge ; for I
met with a specimen not long ago, and felt ashamed of it,
although I can remember when it was greatly admired.
I was reckoned a good reader, when I left school, but had
no opportunity of practising, till I had reached the age of
thirty, when I became acquainted with Mr. Pierpont, and
astonished him not a little one day: it was the first time he
had ever heard me read any thing more than a letter, a bill
of parcels, or an advertisement. I had been looking at a
new poem, which had just appeared — “ The Revolt of
Islam,” by Shelley; and, in calling his attention to it, I read
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
a few lines. He asked me to read on. I did for a while,
and stopped. “ Go on," said he, “ go on.” I consented, and
finished the poem before he let me off. “John," said he,
with glistening eyes, you are il poet!” I laughed, and
thought no more of it, intil, after our failure in business,
I began to write for the press. I had probably never read
aloud so much as i single page, from the day I left school;
but I had the instinct which seldom or never misleads, and in
due time, it Howered into all sorts of extravagance.
I was a good arithmetician, too, and very quick at figures,
haring gone through Walsh's Arithmetic, almost without stop-
ping to breathe, under the watchful eyes of my dear mother,
who allowed of no slurring or forcing, and suffered no item
to escape her; so quick, indeed, that I used to carry out
entries like these : 283 yds. calico at ls. 10d., or 20 broad-
cloth at 27s. 6d., as if I had the calculation lying before
me, or a table committed to memory, and oftentimes without
stopping to make a figure; but always in a way of my own,
though somewhat resembling that af “ Practice."
But I knew nothing of English grammar; nothing of
geography, or astronomy, or the use of the globes ; nothing
of rhetoric or natural philosophy; uor indeed of any other of
the multitudinous branches that have since been taught in
our common schools. And yet, I had gone to the academy,
when Dr. Payson was preceptor; and I had been two or
three vinters -- two, I believe — at a Quaker boarding-
school in Windham.
So far as English grammar was concerned, it was no fault
of mine that I did not become a proficient ; for, after bother-
ing a while over the “ Young Ladies' Accidence," and getting
so that I could parse — or, rather, pass — with great readi-
ness and fluency, the grammar was changed for “ Clarke's,"
and I had to begin afresh, and learn a new set of rules, with
the examples and exceptions, and the exceptions to .excep-
tions, till I had got completely bewildered, and have so con-
tinued, from that day to this; all that I know of English
grammar now, all that I ever knew, being that “preposi-
tions govern the objective case, and that “the verb to be has
the same case after it as before it" -rules which I have
constantly heard violated by grammarians, who could parse
,
SELF-EDUCATION.
107
whole pages without catching their breath, and give a thousand
reasons for saying, “it is me ; ” or, “if anybody wants me,
tell them I shall be back in a few minutes ;” “ you was
tliere, was you ?” — the common language of the har; and
fifty other phrases, no whit more preposterous than these,
which I could give now from recollection, if it were worth
while; such as, “ between you and I," or “him and me went
to school together,” or “he is older than me.”
So that I have come to look upon English grammar as a -
delusion and a snare ; and poor Lindley Murray, and the
great majority of his followers, who give such ponderous and
complicated rules, in language so abstract and metaphysical,
not to say unintelligible, as no better than so many well-
meaning conundrum-weavers, mountebanks, or jugglers. The
laws of universal grammar we need to be acquainted with,
of course; and, thank God, they may be learned by a child
in a single evening, while the pestiferous inventions that pass
for grammars, in every earthly language, seem intended only
to perplex and mystify. That we must have grammars, I
admit; grammars of some sort, for reference, though not for
study, much less for learning by heart. Still, in my judg-
ment, you no more need a grammar for language, than for
horsemanship, or fencing, or swimming, or dancing. At best,
they are only substitutes for a teacher, and for practice,
though never of much use in learning to talk a language.
But, furthermore, -
Suppose it were the fashion to make a child study a gram-
mar of horsemanship, to commit all the rules to memory, and
all the exceptions and examples, and then to stand up in a
large school, and undergo an examination before a committee,
upon every conceivable case, real or supposititious, and give
a reason or a rule, in the very language of the book; and to
do all this, before he is lifted into the saddle, or allowed
to touch whip or spur.
Instead of saying, elbows close! wrist level! thumb up!
advance the chest! heels down! toes in! hollow the back !
left shoulder forward ! legs under you! head up! &c., sup-
pose the poor boy or girl required to give a rule for each of
these positions, and this exercise should be called parsing:
in what would it differ from the ordinary method of teaching
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
English grammar, by the help of metaphysics, logarithms,
and conundrums?
“John, do thee know grammar ?” said one of my cousins
at Windham, speaking in the name of all the rest, who were
a little anxious to see how far ahead of the town-boy they
were, with their new master. It was the first time I had ever
heard the phrase, English-grammar, or the word, grammar,
in all my life ; and, I dare say, I turned up my nose, in reply,
as if it were one of the studies we considered beneath us, in
our schools. But, after I reached home, I took upon myself
to inquire, and lost no time in getting into the “ Young Ladies'
Accidents ;” with what advantage, I have already stated.
I had also a great fondness for drawing and painting,
and a natural taste for both — a sincere and hearty relish, I
might say; but, strange as it may seem, little or no talent for
either. About this time, I used to paint roses, strawberries,
and watch-papers, and little fat Cupids, with their bows and
arrows, nestling, or asleep, among bunches of lady-delights ;
and I spent many a long day in copying maps. But I had
never seen a good picture, in all my life, nor what I should
V now call a decent drawing. Once, to be sure, when quite a
child, I saw pasted upon the wall, over a shoemaker's bench,
a pen-and-ink head, which delighted me beyond measure. I
cared nothing for prints nor engravings; but this little affair,
though unfinished, a mere outline at best, I looked upon as a
marvel. Judge of my surprise, when the shoemaker, who did
not value it much, told me I was welcome to it. I lost no
time in taking possession of the prize, and hurrying off, lest
he might change his mind. On reaching home, I went up
into the garret, and there, seating myself on an old leather-
trunk, near a little window, covered with dust and cobwebs,
went to work and made copy after copy, some of which were
traced, I remember, until I had every scratch of the pen
daguerreotyped upon my memory. This, I believe, was the
beginning of my experience in art. Hereafter, I may have
something more to say upon this part of my education.
But one thing I must not overlook, nor undervalue: from
my earliest recollection, I was a prodigious reader. Nothing
came amiss to me, from “ Bluebeard," “ Little King Pepin,"
“ Aballino," the great bandit, up to “ Millot's General History,"
SELF-EDUCATION.
109
“ Curran's Speeches,” “ Plutarch's Lives,” and “ Rees's Cyclo-
pædia.” The first book I ever read, after the Bible, was the
“ Arabian Nights ;” and though I was utterly carried away by
it, as I well remember, I have never looked into it since.
Yet all the incidents are fresh in my memory, and most of
the characters and situations. They tell the story in this
way; and it seems to me now, that I remember the par-
ticulars iyself. My mother wanted to go somewhere, taking
my sister Rachel with her, for the day; but what on earth
should be done with her boy? I was just of an age -- not
over eight, or nine, at the most — to be very troublesome,
if allowed to have my own way; and still more so, if I
wasn't. “Leave him with me," said Mrs. Thankful Bagley,
a very pleasant, kind-hearted woman, who lived below in
the same house. My mother consented, and Mrs. Bagley
bronght me the “ Arabian Nights” to read. I took it with
me up into the garret; and when my mother returned
toward nightfall, and asked for me, Mrs. Bagley was obliged
to own up. She had not set eyes upon me since morn-
ing. I had not come to dinner, and nobody knew where
to look for me. My poor mother began to feel uneasy; but
when the book was mentioned, knowing my unappeasable
appetite for all sorts of strange, out-of-the-way reading, she
went straightway up to the little garret-window, where I spent
most of my time, out of school, and there she found me be- :
hind a trunk, so deeply engaged in the book before me, that
I had not even heard her step, nor the voices below; nor
had I eaten a mouthful during the day.
Not long after this, I had got together quite a library of
little picture-books, and a collection of songs and verses,
which were the talk of all the neighborhood. Among these, I
remember Captain Kyd, “when I sailed when I sailed,” the
“ Death of Wolf,” and a “ Rose-tree in full bearing." A part
of these I took with me up into the country, on a visit to my
cousins, where I was persuaded to part with them at cost, and
where they led to a cruel mortification, the cruelest I ever had
experienced at the time. .
Soon after they had bought me out, lock, stock, and bar-
rel - bob, line, and sinker - and paid for them, leaving
me to replenish my store when I returned to Portland, I dis-
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
covered, npon a table in the darkened fore-room, a huge tin
pail, full of honey, in the best possible condition for a suscep-
tible youth, being intermixed with large lumps of broken
comb. One of my cousins, a warm-hearted, generous girl,
who had always been a special favorite with me, gave me a sau-
cerful. Two or three days after this, having to pass the door
of that banqueting-room several times in the day, my appetite
for honey grew unappeasable; and, taking my cousin aside,
I begged her to give me some honey. She reddened, looked
embarrassed, and went off to ask her mother; on returning,
what think you was her answer -- her answer to me, a proud,
sensitive boy? - Not now, cousin John,” said she ; “but when
thee comes again, we'll give thee some more money." -- " More
money!” said I, all aghast with shame and mortification,
“ who wants any of your money ? -I asked for honey, not for
money.” The poor girl was even more to be pitied than my-
self, I do believe; for, within five minutes, I was on my way
home to my mother; and, if I can trust my recollection, was
never inside of that house afterward, certainly not for many
a long year. It was a pitiful business, I must acknowledge.
It humbled me to the dust; and I have not got over it, even to
this day. Among all the niortifications I have experienced in
a long life, and they are neither few nor small, I consider this
about the worst.
From picture-books and verses, I went to magazines and
y stories; and, long before I was twelve, I had accumulated
| quite a decent library, partly by borrowing and buying, and
partly by being allowed to rummage in the old closets of the
Thrasher House, where “ Master George,” a dwarf who used to
labor for Thomas B. Waite and Co., on a newspaper they pub-
lished —- the old - Federal Gazette," I believe — had stowed
away, year after year, the “ Massachusetts," and other maga-
zines, with pictures of eagles, and bisons, and buffaloes, and
that everlasting story of “ Alexis, or the Cottage in the
Woods," which was continued until I had a wheelbarrow-load
of the numbers that contained it; and never stopped, I be-
lieve, till I had left this part of the world, or outgrown such
diet, as children do pap; and began to give up the sincere
milk of the word, for lions' meat.
Meanwhile, I had got acquainted with a boy named George
SELF-EDUCATION.
111
Reid, who kept shop for Thomas Clark in Fish-Street, now
Exchange. Clark was a bookseller and stationer, and kept
a large circulating library, which I read through and through
— literally through and through — before I knocked off.
Many volumes a week did I gobble up, month after month,
before I found out that Reid was taking advantage of me to
do liis errands, without the knowledge of his master. Among
those I now remember, as if I had been familiar with them,
not sixty years ago, or thereabouts, but within the last five
or six years, were “ Wieland, or the Transformation ; " " Edgar
Huntley, or the Sleep Walker;" Ormond, or the Secret Wit-
ness” — all by Brockden Brown ; “ Children of the Abbey,"
« Mysteries of Udolpho ;” “ St. Leon ;” and “ Caleb Williams,"
by Godwin ; “ Gulliver's Travels,” “ Don Quixote," " Roderick
Random," « Tom Jones,” « The Adventures of a Guinea ;” « The
Vicar of Wakefield,” and “ Paul and Virginia,” both especial
favorites of mine to this day, and both masterpieces, like Un-
dine; “ Cook's Voyages," Rollin's “ Ancient History," &c., &c.,
&c. : not one of which have I opened since, to my recollection.
While at Master Moody's in Union Street, and before I
went behind the counter, one of my school-fellows, whom I
have already mentioned, as having got ahead of me in pen-
manship, undertook to study French, and I was invited to
join a class; but my mother had no money to waste in that
way, and I found it cheaper to make fun of those who took
lessons, than to take lessons myself. And here a little inci-
dent occurs to me, which I had entirely forgotten, till it was
brought to my recollection, by what I have already mentioned.
Among the scholars of the Frenchman were two or three
daughters, two certainly, of Thankful Hussey, the Quaker
preacher. They were clever girls; and one of the two,
Sarah, had an opportunity of turning her French to account,
by marrying Isaac Winslow, brother of that Jeremiah who in-
troduced the whale-fishery into France, and settling for life in
Havre. She and her sister Comfort were many years older
than I; and both had such a reputation for superior talent
and scholarship, that when they condescerided to enter the
town-school, kept by Master Gregg, some years after he had
polished me off, and set me adrift, he had a story to tell of
Sarah, the eldest, which I shall never forget ; chiefly, I dare
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
say, because the good man made such a fuss about her. They
were called upon for compositions.” The subject was
“ fire.” Sarah's opened in this way, word for word: “I shall
not treat this chemical and philosophical subject either chem-
ically or philosophically ;” and as neither chemistry nor
philosophy, intellectual or natural, had ever been thought of,
as a part of our education, it seemed to me no great forbear-
ance on her part. But Master Gregg thought otherwise, and
I never shall forget the pride he manifested in her scholar-
ship, on this particular occasion.
Many years after this, when I had reached twenty-five, I
undertook the study of French in a way of my own, of which I
intend to give an account hereafter ; and, in the course of two
į or three years, made myself pretty well acquainted with French,
Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, German, Swedish, Danish, be-
side overhaling the Hebrew, Latin, Greek, and Saxon, till I
could manage them pretty well by the help of a dictionary
and grammar. At different times, indeed, I have been able
to speak with considerable readiness, and to write with ease,
French, Spanish, Italian, and German. So much for this
part of my education.
After a while, I took to writing for the newspapers and
periodicals, and then to story-telling by the volume; but, as I
intend to give an account of all these doings hereafter, I pass
them over now, adding only, that I believe I learned more
behind the counter than I have ever learned since — more
of mankind, more of myself, and more of human nature. I
believe also, that we learn more by teaching, than by study-
ing; and I have always been a teacher from my youth up,
and generally of something useful — though not always, I am
afraid ; not that I have appeared as a school-master, or pro-
fessor; but I have taught fencing, and sparring, and horseman-
ship, and gymnastics, and half a dozen languages, and all after
a system of my own. In this way it is, that I have succeed-
ed in educating myself — after a fashion.
« Tell me,” said I to William Gwinn, of Baltimore, soon
after I had been admitted to the bar in that city, " tell me,
I pray you, where to find the help I need in practice, without
troubling the brethren: are there any books to be had ?”
“Not a book, not a page,” was the reply. “The answers to
SELF-EDUCATION.
113
all the questions you have put me, are traditional; they have
never been reduced to writing.” “What, then, am I to
do?” -“ Write a book on the subject!” And faith! but for
my coming across a tattered volume of Harris's “ Entries,"
then wholly out of print, I believe, I should have followed
his advice, and taught myself, by undertaking to teach others.
Once, in familiar conversation with Jeremy Bentham, he -
told me of an incident in his own life, which I believed then,
and believe now, was the real cause of his abandoning the
practice of the law, after being admitted as a barrister, and
betaking himself, at once and for ever, to the great business
of law reform. He was retained in an important case, the
first and the last he ever meddled with. He studied it
thoroughly - made himself master of all the facts, all the
reasonings, and all the authorities, for and against his client,
—and went into court “cock sure," as he termed it, with a
smile I never shall forget, for his mouth trembled and his
beavy gray lashes glistened at the time, “cock sure of a
triumphant issue.” But, lo! after he had got through, up rose
the embryo Lord-Chancellor Eldon, Mr. John Scott, and read
a manuscript case, which had never been reported, and which
not only overthrew the whole of poor Mr. Bentham's learned
authorities, but sent him out of court, “ with his tail between
his legs, and a flea in his ear," never to enter it again.
Just so with many a point of practice at the Baltimore bar.
No reports had appeared of the Nisi Prius decisions; and
no two persons, learned in the law, were ever able to agree
upon a variety of trivial questions — trivial to the old prac-
titioner, who might always bargain himself out of a scrape,
with his gray-headed brethren, while the younger would be
swamped. But I learned my trade nevertheless, after going
through a course of study calculated for seven or eight years,
in less than a year and a half, including Hoffman's Course,
and Reeves' and Gould's Lectures — of which more hereafter
- and studying sixteen hours a day, like Sir Alatthew Hale,
when he entered Lincoln's Inn. But he was only twenty-
one, and thoroughly prepared, by a course of collegiate edu-
cation at Oxford ; while I was in my twenty-sixth year, with
every thing to learn, and no time to lose ; and obliged to earn
my living by my pen, at a time when there were only two or
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
three editors employed in the whole country, and the best of
American books were not worth publishing, since the best
English books could be had for nothing, after they had been
reviewed over sea, and their reputation was established, both
there and here. Yet I did not flinch from the trial, and
persevered, until I had gone through a course of history,
languages, political economy, and miscellaneous reading, which
of itself would have been regarded as quite wonderful, if I had
done nothing else.
In this way it was, that I managed to educate myself, and
without help from any living teacher; and this it is, which
has led me to say so much about self-education.
But I had other things to learn. Studying sixteen hours a
day, month after month, and year after year, and writing sixteen
hours a day, as I often did, for months together, were some-
what dangerous indulgences. And so, one evening, I tumbled
out of my chair, while driving away at 6 Seventy-six," I
believe; and lay, I know not how long, upon the floor of my
back office, where I slept. On coming to myself, I began to
feel my pulse before I tried to get up: the rhythm was all I
could wish; the beat regular and emphatic, soft and full, so
that I had nothing to fear of a serious nature, an affection
of the heart never allowing such “healthful music.” Then I
touched my lips : there was no foam to trouble me, no sign of
epilepsy. What, then, was the matter? Syncope, beyond all
question. I had fainted, swooned, -- from overwork. I
bad tampered with one of God's chief blessings, I had abused
the gift of health; and I saw at once that I had something
else to do in this world, something that I had never thought
of before. I was bound to take care of myself. But who
was myself? and what? I had never been obliged to keep
my bed but once in all my life, and that was in my boyhood.
The doctor, having lost all patience with me, told me I should
die: I told him I wouldn't; and I didn't, — to the best of my
recollection and belief. The consequence was, that I had lost
sight of my body altogether, and had now been working, month
after month, as if I were all brain, as if I had no soul indeed
~ nothing but an imperious will, and a fiery imagination to
deal with. But, thank God, I was not forgotten, I was not
wholly given over; and, when I came to my senses, the first
SELF-EDUCATION.
115
thing I did, was to put my body through a course of educa-
tion.
Meanwhile, having found my way, not only into the best
law libraries of Baltimore, including those of Professor
Hoffman and General Winder, but into the Athenæum,
where I rioted, month after month, as the records will show,
if they are still in existence, upon the treasures of history,
political economy, and French literature, being acquainted
with no other language at the time, it may well be supposed
that I had my hands full. Writing for the “Portico," for the
magazines, and for the newspapers, and turning out romances
and story-books at the rate of two or three volumes a month,
to say nothing of poems and plays, and “ Allen's History of
the Revolution," and the “ Index to Niles's Register,” a most
laborious work, as I hope to show hereafter, I had little time
for amusement or dissipation; and my leisure was therefore
devoted to bodily exercise, riding, fencing, and sparring.
In 1823, I went abroad, where I continued the study of
German, Spanish, Italian, and French, without a master,
having acquired the pronunciation before ; until I found my-
self relapsing into my old habits of unreasonable study, and
sitting up from twelve to one, two, three, and even four o'clock,
in the morning. At last, my education being well-nigh finished,
and myself with it, I tumbled out of my chair once more, at
dead of night, and lay long enough on the floor to make up
my mind, that, if this happened a third time, I should well
deserve to stay there till wanted by the undertaker. I was
rewriting a paper for 6 Blackwood,” which, being unreason-
ably long — too long for the number it was intended for, and
the longest that had ever appeared in that magazine — had
been sent back to me, not to abridge, or correct, but merely to
look over, in season for the next month, in which it appeared
(December, 1824); but as I never could bear to let any thing
pass out of my hand, without change or emendation, if it fell in
my way, after it had got cold, I went to work on this paper
as if I had never seen it before, and rewrote every syllable
of it. No wonder I fell out of my chair ; for even Christopher
North declared in a note which prefaced it, as a leader, that
every paragraph was an article of itself.
Here I went through a course of small-sword, with the
116
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
celebrated Angelo; and then of horsemanship and broad-
sword, with the cavalry-exercise at the Knightsbridge-bar-
racks; and then of boxing, with Richmond the black, and
Eales and Ellard; and then, or simultaneously rather, with i
a course of gymnastics, under the training of Völker, who stood
six feet four, if I do not mistake, though he complained, that,
being only a seven months' child, he had never been treated
fairly, nor allowed to get his growth. He was a giant, and,
in the course of our exercises, nearly wrenched me linib from
limb, with the assurance that it “ doot me goot,” and finally
thrust the end of an unbuttoned foil into my left eye, while
demonstrating his own awkwardness with the small-sword.
after I had parried a thrust in quarte sur le bras. But I de-
served it: first, for crossing the foils without a mask; and
next, for allowing any body to engage me without a button.
After this, I took up botany; and after attending a course
of lectures by a Scotchman, named Whitlaw, who had the
elements of the science pictured out on transparent window-
shades — a capital idea, by the way — I ransacked the whole
neighborhood of London, with young Mill (John Stuart
Mill) and Richard Doane, the private secretary of Mr. Ben-
tham, and others, until I had become pretty well acquainted
with the flora of that region. And so with mineralogy and
geology: I took them up, as they fell in my way, and, without
intending to do so, succeeded in educating myself upon a
variety of subjects, while writing for most of the magazines,
and for two or three of the leading Quarterlies, and preparing
“ Brother Jonathan " for the press.
After my return to Portland, I taught boxing and fencing,
wrote largely for the newspapers and magazines, edited the
“ Yankee,” the “ New England Galaxy," and partly edited, at
least, half a dozen other leading newspapers, and not a few
magazines, all of which died a natural death before I had
done with them; entered upon the practice of law, not in
New York, as I had first intended, having ordered my library
there, and being sorely tempted by Mordecai Manasseh Noah
and others, to take up my abode there, and establish a Sunday
paper; nor at New Orleans, nor in Philadelphia — Baltimore
being wholly out of the question just then, because of the
immense outlay upon the Ohio Railroad, whereby her whole
SELF-EDUCATION.
117
trading community seemed paralyzed; but in Portland, whither
I had come on a visit to my mother and sister, with no more
idea of settling here than I should, on the Isle of Shoals, and
with no more idea at the time of connecting myself wiih a
newspaper, even as editor, than I had of setting up a Cape
Elizabeth “ Daily Advertiser.” But they undertook to say —
bless their hearts !--- that I should not be allowed to settle
here. And so I planted myself on the spot, and, after a few
personal explanations, was let alone, and re-admitted to the
Cumberland bar, and entered afresh upon my career, as a
lawyer.
From that day to this, I have been always learning some-
thing new; and, so far as I am educated at all, I have
been educated by circumstances, and under many and great
advantages; for which I devoutly thank our heavenly Father,
since now I know that most of my opinions are my own, that
they have not been adopted “ between sleeping and waking,”
but “ begotten in the lusty stealth of nature," and often after
a course of gladiatorial controversy ; for which reason, they are
not likely to be abandoned for slight causes, nor in obedience
to the fluctuations and changes about me.
Under different heads hereafter, I hope to furnish other,
and perhaps better evidence, that I have not lived altogether
in vain, and that my life has not been a failure, though some-
body has thought proper to say so, in one of our cleverest
magazines, as if upon my own authority. The soft impeach-
ment I deny; and stop here, at least for the present.
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER IX.
BUSINESS OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE.
PEDDLING SMALL VARES; MANUFACTURE OF LOLLIPOP ; SMOOTH SHAVING;
TRICKS OF TRADE; DOWNRIGHT CHEATING; COUNTERFEIT MONEY;
IDLING; PISTOL SHOOTING; PENMANSHIP; INDIAN INK MINIATURES;
BOSTON.
MAY 23, 1867.- Three whole months have passed — nearly
four, indeed — since I have been able to write a line, except
in the way of business. Meanwhile, the two-million building-
loan has been authorized by the legislature, subject to the
decision of the people; a great mistake, I am afraid, though
they have decided in its favor, by a handsome majority, on a
very small vote, which, of itself, were sufficiently discourag-
ing, where so much was at stake. But so has it ever been.
The people, taking it for granted that a popular measure must
be carried, and that their neighbors will do their duty, leave
the whole business to them. We had a narrow, escape to
begin with; and then, just as an opening appeared for the
whole to be taken up at once, on favorable termas, by the Bar-
ings, France and Prussia began to threaten each other, and
all business operations were suspended, of course, till the
question about Luxemburg should be settled ; and when that
was settled, or appeared to be settled, it was too late for the
negotiations we had entered upon. Other parties were in the
field; and now the constitutionality of the law is beginning
to be questioned, upon the ground that lawgivers cannot dele-
gate their powers. Nevertheless, Portland is going up; and
all the buildings that were got under way, soon after the fire,
and up to midwinter, have been finished, with improvements
a hundred years in advance of what they were before the fire;
and most of them are already occupied, and all the rest will
be, within a month; while others are going up, stores and
mansions and large public buildings, in every part of the
town. Among the latter are the post-office, the custom-
BUSINESS OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE.
119
house, five or six large handsome churches, and the city gov-
ernment house; to say nothing of Fort Gorges, the dry
dock, and a magnificent hotel.
And now, being once more at leisure, my new houses and
the new store being occupied, let me go back to my story.
The first business operation I was ever engaged in, I have
already mentioned. It happened, when I was under eight, I
should say ; and yielded, with no pecuniary profit, a bountiful
harvest of mortification and experience. Had my request for
“some honey" not been misunderstood for what amounted
substantially to 6 stand and deliver !” I might have gone
more largely into the ballad and picture-book business, and,
after a while, have managed to turn an honest penny in that
way, without venturing upon larger transactions, till I had
cut, if not my wisdom-teeth, at least my eye-teeth.
My next undertakings were in the barter line, or what has
been called by others - truck and dicker.” I swapped toys
and trifles with my school-inates, and in every case but one,
so far as I now remember, came off with a flea in my ear; in
other words, confoundedly cheated. That one case I dis-
tinctly remember. A little French boy from the West Indies,
who could not speak a word of English, took a decided fancy
to what there was left of a pocket-knife I had, with a horn
handle, one-half of which had disappeared. What he gave
me for it in exchange, whether money or money's worth, I do
not now remember; though I can still hear his outcries and
lamentations, after he had slept upon the bargain, and began
following me whithersoever I went, holding the knife in one
hand, with the tears running down his cheeks, and tapping it
with the forefinger of the other, and screaming “ No bone! no
bone ! ” meaning, as I then supposed, that he wanted the rest
of the handle. That being lost, I endeavored to reason with
the poor boy; but as I knew nothing of French, and lie less
than nothing of English, I did not succeed in pacifying him,
nor he in convincing me. He probably meant to say that the
knife was not good, no great shakes, in which I might have
agreed with him, as it certainly was not; but instead of say.
ing “ Pas bon ! pas bon ! ” which I should have understood at
the end of about twenty years, he dealt in the patois of his
tribe, which, of course, helped to mislead me.
120
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
My next adventure, in the way of business, I must acknowl-
edge, had a flavor of what would now be called rather sharp
practice. I began to manufacture lollipop — at first, in small
quantities, but soon after by the dollar's worth ; retailing it
myself by the stick, or wholesaling it by the ninepenny-worth,
and thereby saving the profits both of a jobber and middle-
man; using my mother's molasses, when there was enough on
hand, which was not often, as her purchases were always
made with a half-gallon jug; and licking the boys, who, after
being trusted, failed to pay at the time fixed between us,
thereby saving lots of shoe-leather, interest on capital, and all
the costs of attorneyship. Sharp's the word! This occurred,
I should say, when I was about ten.
But after I took to the counter, instead of the highway, as,
on the whole, somewhat safer, if not always the more respect-
able, my business tendencies took a new “start.” My mas-
ters, with a view to my encouragement, I suppose, or perhaps
to quicken my appetite for trade, as hawks are trained with
offal and garbage to begin with, allowed me the privilege of
selling horn combs, which were manufactured at Woodford's
Corner, and went by the name of mock-turtle. They were
. in great demand: the sale was steady; and the profits, though
small, were sure; and though what I did was in the retail
way, for any sort of wholesale business might have interfered
with my masters, I managed to lay up enough spending-
money for the holidays, without touching my capital, which
amounted at one time to no less than fourteen or fifteen hun-
dred - cents.
In addition to this privilege, I was allowed to share in the
boxes and wrappers and cordage, that came round the bales,
with a young man from Boston, who “understood the ropes ;”
and, between us, we managed to earn —— we called it earning
I dare not say how much, in the course of a year, but cer-
tainly not less than twenty-five dollars apiece. Nor should
this be wondered at, when we were allowed to charge just
what we pleased for boxing and baling to our country cus-
tomers; and had constantly before us the example of our
friends over sea, whose charges were so extravagant as to
astonish us, until we found in them the very justification we
needed for ourselves.
BUSINESS OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE.
121
And here, two or three little incidents of my shop-keeping
life occur to me, which may be worth mentioning, by way of
illustration.
One day, a fat Frenchman wanted to look at some panta-
loon-stuff. Velvets and velveteens were the go just then ;
and, while I was trying to persuade him that a drab corduroy
was the thing, his eyes fell on a piece of dark purple tabby-
velvet, which he fastened upon with such eagerness, I had not
the heart to tell him it was not intended for pantaloons.
That, and that only, would he have; and so, having measured
off three yards, I attempted to tear it across, instead of cutting
with the scissors. In tearing, there happened to be a coarse
thread in the way; and off it went, with a rip that startled
my master at the desk, lengthwise of the roll, for about three-
quarters of a yard, but, luckily for my customer, not into his
portion of the velvet. Seeing him look up, I huddled the
whole together, and threw the piece behind me, lest he might
be disheartened if he saw the rent; and giving him his bun-
dle, with the “trimmings,” which we used to lump, after a
very profitable fashion, so that twist, buttons, and lining
yielded nearly as much profit as the cloth itself, took his
money, and got rid of him about the quickest. Some few
days afterward, he called with a bundle under his arm, which
turned out to be all that remained of his purple velvet panta-
loons : he had blown them all to pieces, I know not how -
perhaps by trying to sit down in a hurry. The poor fellow
was ready to burst with rage and vexation; and, when I
reminded him that I had recommended quite a different arti-
cle, which we would warrant, he grew furious. I then threw
the blame on the tailor, who ought to have told him before it
was too late ; for how should I know that tabby-velvet panta-
loons wouldn't bear to be “sneezed at” — or in? This appeared
to strike him favorably, and, according to my present recollec-
tion, he set off in search of the tailor, before Messrs. Munroe
and Tuttle, my masters, had time to interfere, and that was
the last we saw of him.
At another time and these were the transactions that
tinguish me for shop-keeping smartness, at the very outset of -
my career - at another time, the elder of my two principals,
122
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Tilly Merrick Munroe, was trying to sell a black Barcelona
handkerchief to a backwoodsman, with a beard like a carding
machine. He was afraid his " baird," as he called it, passing
his hand over his chin, as if it hurt him, would be too much
for the Barcelona, if he didn't shave at least every day.
66 All a mistake," said I, interfering, as I had no business to
do, “all a mistake, sir. If you buy that handkerchief, you'll
never want shaving again." This was a little too much for
my masters. They tried to keep their countenances, and
smother a laugh; but in vain. And when they had recovered
their self-command, it was too late. I had seen the effect, and
the countryman had vanished; so that we lost the sale of the
Barcelona, which he had begun to believe beard-proof, double
twilled, with “ two knocks in the weaving."
But the laugh was not always in my favor, nor quite so
flattering at other times; for one day, in my hurry to explain
what I regarded as deplorable misbehavior in a fellow-clerk,
who had been playing the mischief with a lot of new ribbons,
by suffering them to unroll in a drawer, till they might have
filled a peck-measure, I spoke of them as a great tangled
mass, a pile, in fact, as large as "both of my heads ;” and,
when there was a laugh all about me, corrected myself by.
saying, “ As large as my two heads, I mean” — a blunder only
to be matched by the Irish editor, who, under the head of
errata, said, “ For her Grace the duke, please read his Grace
the duchess."
Another achievement just occurs to me, which I shouldn't
like to forget. I had an uncle David, who was reckoned
among the sharpest and shrewdest of our customers. He
used to laugh at me, when I was setting a trap for others;
and the roguish twinkle of his eyes, I never shall forget, the
first time I ever tried “my 'prentice hand on him ;” but I
succeeded at last, and had the pleasure of seeing him bait a
trap with his own fingers.
There had slowly accumulated in our back shop a large
box of remnants, which we wanted to be rid of. There were
bits of calico, and copper-plate, or furniture-patch, with the
fag-ends of cassimere, calamanco (calimink), and corduroy,
and fearnought, and grogram, and faded waistcoating; all
sorts of worthless rubbish indeed. - Occasionally, he had
BUSINESS OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE.
123
seen me overhauling the pile, and favoring customers with a
prodigious bargain; and at last he began teasing and banter-
ing me, till I could bear it no longer. So I tumbled the whole
out on the floor, and stumped him to make me an offer. But
no: there was nothing there he wanted ; and he had no idea
of buying a pig in a poke. Yet, as I seemed so much in
earnest, he would consent to indulge me so far as to set his
own value upon the trash, measuring all the remnants, article
So to work we went, he appraising every fragment, as he
lugged it forth, and I measuring it honestly — for his eye was
upon me, and I was obliged to “ give thumbs” — and then set-
ting it down as honestly, and for the same reason, till I had
chalked down a column of figures, on the partition, a foot or
two long. These he undertook to add up for himself. I did not
interfere, but kept aloof until he had finished, when I saw at
a glance, though standing a good way off, that he had made a
mistake of ten dollars against himself. Then came the offer,
with a chuckle; which I accepted, with another; taking care
to rub out the figures, while we were finishing up the busi-
ness, with á laugh, lest he might be tempted to review them.
I think he had some suspicion of my purpose, though he
would never own it; for I well remember the startled expres-
sion of his countenance, as I wiped off the figures with a sin-
gle sweep of my arm, so far at least as to derange the column,
and put a stop to any proposed verification. Many years
after this, I told my good uncle the truth : he was a Quaker,
and, on the whole, seemed rather pleased with my smartness,
though I do not remember that he laughed outright; for his
children were about him, and he had just been bragging about
his own cleverness. No wonder the temptation was too
much for me, and that I lost no time in showing that the
smart uncle had a smarter nephew.
We had other tricks of the trade, which now begin to crowd
upon my recollection. We used to sell India-cottons by the
piece, for example; and when they fell short a yard or two,
we comforted the purchaser, by assuring him, that, although
they came for twelve yards, it was an advantage for him to
have them actually measure but ten and a half, or eleven
yards, because they all weighed alike.
f
124
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
All our prints, or calicoes, as they were then called, were
marked up, when sold by the piece, either half a yard or three-
quarters. In England, they were always reckoned twenty-
eight yards, but would overrun from one fourth to three-fourths
of a yard, and sometimes a whole yard. With broadcloths
and cassimeres and woollens generally, when sold by the piece,
it was the same. The leads were always marked up from
one-fourth of a yard to a yard, sometimes by altering the
fraction, and sometimes by adding, as the case might require.
Pins went up from number two, to two and a half, from num-
ber three, to three and a half, and from number four, to four
and a half.
It was an established principle with us, no matter what was
wanted, always to show the poorest first, thereby enhancing
the best by comparison; to keep the windows and doorway so
dark, partly by hanging shawls and other showy goods both
inside and out, and partly by painting the back windows, that
people were often astonished at their bargains, after they
had got back to their own houses; not only the quality, but
the very color of their purchases, undergoing a change for the
worse.
Another charming trick we had — or rather some of us
had; for the boys were not allowed to understand these deli-
cacies of trade. To show the fineness of a linen, or of a linen
cambric, we used to draw it over our finger, and wet it with
our tongues. This, tending to show how much finer it would
be after the stiffening was out, seldom failed to satisfy even
pretty good house-keepers. And another, and the worst of
all I now remember, was this. The whole country was del-
uged with counterfeit money; ten per cent, I should say, of all
that was in circulation was absolutely worthless; being either
counterfeit, or the floating issue of broken banks, like the
Farmers'-Exchange Bank, of Massachusetts. Of course, with
shop-boys and inexperienced clerks, it was no easy matter for
a business-man to escape; and the consequence was, that, after
a little time, it became a sort of settled maxim, that, if you
buy the devil, the sooner you sell him, the better. In our
establishment, all such moneys, whether counterfeit, or only
questionable, were always put back into the till; and, though
nothing was ever said to me on the subject, it was understood
BUSINESS OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE.
125
that I had charge of the circulation, or re-issue; I being the
youngest, and by far the most innocent-looking, with my blue
eyes, golden hair, and Quaker bob-coát. And so little sense
of shame had I, that, for a long while, it was my pride and
boast, that I never failed in putting off a bad bill, once com-
mitted to my charge; often passing it to another person,
while some one who had just returned it, was in the shop.
And, what is very strange, I do not believe that we ever lost
a customer by such a procedure; it being my practice, at
least, whatever others might do, always to take the bad bill back,
without hesitation or delay, and give a good one for it, upon
the positive assurance of the party, that she could not be mis-
taken, and that she was sure she had it of me - I say she, be-
cause we found it easier and safer to cheat women than men
and often sending her away, with tears of thankfulness in her
eyes, and securing a customer for life. Was it not abomina-
ble! --and yet, as I have said before, I felt no sense of
shame or self-reproach, no “compunctious visitings of con-
science;” but went on for a long while, as horse-jockeys do,
when they sell a brother a horse with a glass eye, and take
the first opportunity of acknowledging it, over their wine; or
as lawyers do, when they obtain a verdict against law and
evidence, and are patted on the back by bench and bar, for
their ingenuity and cleverness.
Can it be wondered at, if, long before I had finished my
apprenticeship, I was in a fair way of landing at last in the
penitentiary? From untruthfulness, and misrepresentation,
and concealment, I had gone on, step by step, with the ap-
probation of my masters and companions, until I found it a
good joke to cheat, both in price and measure, and to pass
counterfeit-money upon the ignorant and helpless. And
when at last I forebore, it was not owing to remorse of con-
science, or shame, or to any thing that resembled true repent-
ance; but simply to the fact, that, as my business enlarged,
in after life, I got above cheating and lying in a small way,
and did what I did, after a wholesale fashion ; selling bales
of blankets, for example, by false invoices, and marking them
up, to correspond with my misrepresentations.
Not long after this, within eighteen months, or two years,
at furthest, my masters failed; and I was thrown out of em-
126
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
ployment. The times were critical. We had gone through
with non-importation, non-intercourse, and with the embargo,
and all its changes, only to feel that the worst was to.come;
for if Mr. Jefferson's policy should prevail, and England should
continue to impress our seamen, it was evident enough, that,
sooner or later, we should have war, and war to the knife.
While out of business, for with so little to do, that I could
hardly keep myself awake, in the office my employers had
taken for settling up the concern, and before I well knew
what I was doing, I found myself haunting bowling-alleys,
and passing whole afternoons at Ma’am Cutter's, three miles
out of town, or up at Moody's, on the hill, or loitering about
Clay-cove, where I got a lesson at last, which set me think-
ing, and saved me, I do believe in my heart, from becoming
a gambler ; but of all this, hereafter.
Again, I took up with reading, and with drawing, and
painting in water-colors, just to keep myself out of mischief;
and with pistol-shooting, in which I became such a proficient,
that I couldn't be sure of hitting a barn-door at fifteen paces,
owing to the fact, which I found out fifteen or twenty years
later in life, that I had always been in the habit of shutting
up the wrong eye, though I had made one marvellous shot,
when a boy of thirteen, which gave me a character I have
always been sorry for, from that day to this, and made me
unwilling to hazard my reputation among those who knew
me. A number of full-grown men were gathered in a large
yard, just back of the old post-office, at the head of Exchange-
Street, firing “pools.” A ship's figure-head of the largest size
had been set up at a distance of, say fifteen or twenty paces,
with a card, the ace of clubs, nailed upon the breast. I was
among the bystanders, and ventured to laugh — with a know-
ing air, I dare say -- at the wild shooting I saw. I was ordered
off, for my impertinence; but a gentleman who stood near
took my part, and asked me if I thought I could do better.
“I'll try," was the answer I gave, years before Miller gave
the same answer, when asked if he could carry that battery
at Lundy's Lane- and carried it. Just for the fun of the
thing, somebody handed me a brass pistol, about seven inches
long, with a bell-muzzle, and a lock on top. I blazed away,
and struck the spot in the card, to my unspeakable astonish-
BUSINESS OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE.
127
ment; and then walked off, notwithstanding their urgent
solicitations, as if what I had done was a thing of course, and
that I had begun to feel ashamed of my company. But, fur- -
thermore, —
One day, when I was trying my hand through the back
door of William Freeman's office, which my masters had
hired for a counting-room, into a large lot in the rear, upon
which Woodman & Co. are now building a block of magnifi-
cent stores, a singular incident occurred, which, if it had not
happened to myself, I should not believe, without many grains
of allowance, though the witnesses were under oath. I had
just sent a boy for some powder. As he entered the front-
door, my pistol exploded, and I fell, as he described it, like a
log of wood tipped over standing, and struck my forehead flat
on the arm of a large chair, and split the bottom, which was
of thick two-inch plank! There's for you! what d'ye think
of that? — and, what may seem still stranger, without break-
ing the skin, or leaving a mark upon my forehead. Perhaps
the blow may help explain some of the eccentricities of my
after life, in the judgment of others. The fact was, that,
overcome by the heat and the noise, I had fainted, and for the
first time in my life, though I hąve since had half a dozen
trials of the same sort.
But to return. After a long while, so long, indeed, that I
wonder now at myself, when I think of the danger I was in,
and of the temptations that beset me on every side, and how
I longed for something to do something, I cared little what,
so that I could be earning my bread, and not living on my
poor mother—she got me a place at forty dollars a year, with
board and washing --- nothing was said about mending, to my
knowledge — in the store of Mr. Benjamin Willis, father of
· William Willis, the annalist of Portland. There I remained
one whole year, working early and late, in season and out of
season, and learning many new tricks of the trade; Mr. Willis
dealing in West-India goods and groceries, and country produce,
as well as in dry-goods from all parts of the world : for exam-
ple, how to convert a hogshead of old Jamaica or Santa Cruz,
into a hogshead and a half, or thereabouts, by rolling it back and
forth between the store and a town-pump that stood just in front
of the old city-hall; and how to give Spanish brandy the flavor
128
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
of cognac, by charging it with burnt sugar. On the whole,
however, the year I spent in Mr. Willis's store was of great
advantage to me. In the first place, it kept me busy, and out
of mischief; and in the next, as goods were high, and grow-
ing higher every day, it obliged me to economize, and manage
in every possible way to make both ends meet, which I did,
nevertheless, and should have done, had my wages been less,
and goods higher. For, mark you, I had stipulated for myself,
without consulting my good mother, who had never kept shop,
that I was to have what goods I wanted for myself, at cost.
Now, Mr. Willis used to buy all his goods at auction for cash,
and was the first of our Portland traders who ever went
beyond Boston for supplies. Most of his purchases were
made in New York; and he would often buy a lot of mer-
chandise of many different qualities at one price, "all round.”
Of course, therefore, if I happened to take a fancy to any of
these, the cost was always the average as marked on the tally.
In this way, I got my clothing for half-price at the most, and
often for less. Then, again, I always bargained with my boot-
maker and tailor to take their pay out of the shop. What-
ever they had, therefore, I charged to myself at cost; and if
they happened to take a little more than just enough to pay
their bills, I charged myself with the goods, and the balance
of cash went into my pocket, of course, which I accounted for
at cost. In this way, my forty dollars a year I found to be
quite sufficient for my clothing, though I dressed handsomely,
and came off with flying colors at the end of the year; hav-
ing one good suit for special occasions, and another quite
passable for every day, with nothing showy or superfluous.
But this could not last. Business grew worse and worse,
and so did I; and, at the end of my first year, I was cut
adrift, and, for a while, went back to my studies, taking care to
fall into no bad habits, and to keep clear of bad company.
This saved me. At last, I was invited to take charge of a
counting-room on Long-Wharf, where Mr. Charles Atherton,
once of the firm of Atherton, Poor, and Cram, was trying to
settle up the affairs of that house. There I stayed — most
unwillingly, I acknowledge, though Mr. Atherton was one of
the most liberal and gentlemanly men I ever knew - because
I had nothing to do, and I did it, until he found he could do
. BUSINESS OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE.
129
better without help, in that kind of business; our whole stock
in trade consisting of a few bolts of Russia-duck, and an old
sail or two, with an occasional supply of West-India preserves
from a captain or two in his employ, which I used to tap for
my amusement. Here I was guilty of an oversight one day,
which might have been serious. I know not how it happened.
On going down to the “ office," one morning, I found the outer
door open, and, on looking round, two or three bolts of duck
missing. I took it for granted that the store had been
broken into, and might have continued in that belief to this
day, but for a neighbor, who called to say that the duck was
all safe in his counting-room; that he had found the door opeu
after nightfall, and that, first abstracting enough merchandise
to operate as a wholesome warning, he had locked the door,
or fastened it in some way. Of course, I felt ashamed and
mortified, and had nothing to say; though to this hour, I have
never been able to understand how it happened. Perhaps I
had left the door unbolted, and the wind (or somebody else)
had blown it open.
Again I was adrift, for two or three months, during which
time, I read with great diligence almost every thing that fell in
my way; but in season for the fall trade of 1810 -- if I do
not mistake — when I had just passed my seventeenth birth-
day, my uncle, James Neal, managed to secure me employ-
ment with Mr. George Hill, from Portsmouth, N.H., who had
come to Portland with a view to retail-business in the dry-
goods line. He had secured a store in Muzzey's Row, just
fronting the head of Union Street, and was looking about for
a stray clerk, when my good uncle, who knew something
of his partner, Mr. James Rundlet, of Portsmouth, N.H.,
mentioned me; and an arrangement was soon entered into
between us, which continued, until, at the end of two years, I
ran off with a writing-master, who had captivated me: first,
by his magnificent penmanship and gentlemanly manners; and
next, by promising me five hundred dollars a year, and my
travelling expenses, if I would go into business with him, in
teaching a system of penmanship in twelve lessons.
While in the employment of Mr. Hill, I took it into my
head that I must have a peep at Boston. A school-fellow
had gone there to settle, and he used to dress so fashionably,
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
and tell such big stories about the place, that I couldn't sleep
o nights. Mr. Hill, with whom I was always on the best of
terrns, up to the very last hour of my service with him, tried
to discourage me; but I persisted, and, after a while, he con-
sented to spare me for a short trip, giving me an order for a
supply of goods, by way, as I have always thought, of secur-
ing my return — as we tie a string to the leg of a bird we are
afraid of losing, after it has been allowed to try its wings in
the open air. My purchases were satisfactory, and, in time,
profitable; though I got shamefully, swindled by a jobber in
State Street, of whom I bought a trunk of blue prints at
twenty-five cents a yard for bait, nothing of the sort having
then been heard of; though, within a few years, much better
goods of our own manufacture have been sold at retail for
less than half that price. The jobber sold them, I dare say,
without any profit, as we retailed them afterwards at the cost.
But he made up for the loss to himself, by withholding a cou-
ple of pieces of black crape, which I left with him to pack,
and which he never accounted for, worth over thirty dollars
at the time, if I remember aright; so that, after all, the knave
succeeded in getting twenty-seven cents for the very calicoes
he sold me at twenty-five cents. This transaction, being a little
out of my way, had a marvellous effect upon my business-no-
itions, quickening my watchfulness, and sharpening my faculties
for life.
One little story they tell of me, while I was behind Mr.
Hill's counter, being not only characteristic, but substantially
true, may be worth mentioning here. In warm weather, I
used to sit by a large open window, hung with shawls, furni-
ture-patch, and muslin drapery. One day, quite a gathering
took place on the sidewalk, within reach of my hand, of young
and pretty girls, the flowers of the season. They fell into
conversation about the new goods, the fashions, and the boys
— myself among the number. Just as I was on the point of
signifying that they were overheard, one of them proposed
to pay me a visit. To this, the others assented with great
eagerness. But what should they ask for? Some pro-
posed one thing, some another. Would it do to ask for pat-
terns? -- but that was so common. Before they had quite
made up their minds, I whispered, just loud enough to be
BUSINESS 131
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S
T
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OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE1
1
heard by the nearest, “ Ask for pink kid gloves.” For a
moment they looked at one another, as if wondering which
had suggested the inquiry ; but the next, a half-suppressed
giggle from within betrayed the secret. A scream followed ;
and away they scampered, as if the dogs were after them.
After leaving Mr. Hill, not so much because of the five
hundred dollars a year, instead of eighty, and my board, or
because of my admiration for the wonderful penmanship of
my friend Rockwell, as in the hope of seeing the world, I
went into the business of teaching penmanship: first, as a co-
partner, at Bath and Brunswick; and then, as I found him un-
trustworthy, and a downright adventurer, on my own ac-
count. This led me to Portsmouth, N.H., where I put up
my specimens, advertised, and tried to obtain a class in writ-
ing, but in vain; so that I was in a sad way for a time, and
almost ready to hang myself. But Mr. Rundlet, who knew
something of my business capacity, and thought well of me,
made me an offer, though we were in the midst of war, and
there was little or nothing to do; no goods to be had, and
very few to be sold. One reason he gave, after we had got
well acquainted, was this. He was in his brother-in-law's
store at Portland one day, when a countryman came in, to
pay for something he had bought of us, not long before. I
asked his name, and went to the books; but nothing was to
be found there. Of whom had he purchased the article ?
He could not remember, - looking first at me, and then at
Mr. Hill; but he was quite sure that he had bought it of some-
body in that store. To satisfy the man, I proposed to take
the money, and give him a receipt for it, so that, if there
should be a mistake, it might be rectified. This, it appeared,
made a great impression on Mr. Rundlet, who was a liberal,
kind-hearted, old-fashioned business-man.
With him, I stayed another year, at the end of which time,
he had nothing for me, nor for anybody else, to do; the
chief business he did being that of a deputy-commissary for
Mr. John Langdon, who was at work, day after day, and
month after month, scouring the whole country for blankets
and blue plains; articles which were not made anywhere on
this side of the water, at the time, so that we had to depend
upon our captures at sea, for clothing our troops, and some-
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
times upon smugglers, who lined our whole northern frontier,
and all our eastern seaboard. At one time, it paid well for a
free-trader to smuggle a cargo of British manufactures, and
then inform against himself, and take half the proceeds, in
due course of law.
After leaving Portsmouth, I went back to my mother's,
and hung up my fiddle for two or three months, trying, meau-
while, to get employment: first, as a schoolmaster, that propen-
sity running in our blood, both on my father's and my mother's
side; and then as a writing-master. But all my endeavors
were to no purpose. I did not get the school I wanted at
Sacarappa village, and I bagged only one scholar in penman-
ship, and that was a Yorkshire woman, “ fat, fair, and forty,"
who had never had a pen in her fingers, till she undertook
it with me. But she succeeded — and so did I; for I got
her five dollars, and she the cramp in her fingers, which her
husband translated into a signature.
But I could not stand this. I durst not be idle; I was
afraid of myself; my clothes were beginning to drop off, and
my little money to disappear, like “fairy gifts fading away;"
so that, if I did not bestir myself, I saw that “leaves” would
soon be all I should have left. And therefore, one day, late
in the fall of 1813, I jumped into an open sail-boat, when a
British man-of-war was lying on and off our harbor, and we
were threatened with another visitation, like that of Mowatt
in 1776, on account of the “ Boxer” and“ Enterprise," and went
to Hallowell, where I began life anew as a writing-master
and drawing-master, taking Indian-ink miniatures, when I
got a chance, for three dollars a head, and giving lessons in
water-colors, without understanding the first principles of the
'art. But I succeeded nevertheless, and, in the month of July
following, found myself in possession of about two hundred
dollars, more or less, by practising upon the good nature of
Hallowell, Augusta, Waterville, and Norridgwock, after a
fashion the inhabitants will never forget, or forgive.
At the end of this time, happening to find myself in
Hallowell once more, my attention was attracted by an adver-
tisement, in a Boston paper, for a clerk in a wholesale and
retail dry-goods establishment; “inquire of the printer.” Here
was a direct, personal invitation, which I durst not overlook.
BUSINESS OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE.
133
I was tired of penmanship, drawing, and vagabondizing, and
lost no time in sending off a letter to Messrs. Young and
Minns, in answer to the advertisement. In due time, I re-
ceived a few lines from a Mr. M., saying, “ Come on at once;
and, if we cannot agree, your board shall cost you nothing,
till you find a place to suit you.” Of course, I jumped at the
offer. On my way through Portland, where I had long been
reported lost, or missing, I called upon some of the old stand-
ards, who best knew me as business-men, and, at their sugges-
tion, wrote a “recommend” for myself, which they all signed,
and which I have now before me, dated May, 1811. Being
brief and to the purpose, I will give it here. “We the
subscribers merchants of Portland have known the bearer
John Neal for a number of years and believe him to be hon-
est capable and active and well-qualified for the wholesale or
retail English goods bussiness," no stops from beginning to
end, and “business” spelled with double s; and hurried off by
the very next conveyance to Boston, where I arrived late of
a Saturday evening, and put up at the stage-tavern kept by
Earle, in Anne Street. N.B. I write from recollection here,
and cannot stop to verify names or dates.
June 26, 1867. - Another long interval, during which I have
not been able to write a line, except in the way.cf business ;
having been much occupied with our" Portland Institute and
Public Library," which, after a struggle of six or eight
months, promises to be handsomely encouraged; and in or-
ganizing and preparing for the rooms assigned us in the new
city-hall, which we have now reason to hope will be ready
for us by September, or October, at furthest, when we shall
make another appeal to the commonwealth of literature and
science.
Our building-loan, it is now found, may be reckoned upon
with safety, notwithstanding my fears. Its constitutionality
is no longer questioned, the sanction of the people being ob-
tained under a form which certainly seems to distinguish it
from legislation. The money --- two millions -- may not
be had on such easy terms as we hoped for, at one time, and
were justified in hoping for, by some of the largest banking-
houses in the world; but still, we can have it, all we want,
and as fast as it is needed, on such conditions as we ought
to be satisfied with.
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Just returned from a trial trip to Oswego, with a delega-
tion of our leading capitalists and business-men, who have
ascertained that a new railway through the Notch of the
White Mountains to Ogdensburg is not only possible, but easy
to build, without a large outlay; the Notch itself, and ten
miles of the way on this side, being estimated by a competent
engineer, after a careful survey, at forty thousand dollars a
mile, and no more; while the rest of the route is eminently
favorable for the whole length: so that offers from responsible
parties are made to build the whole road, Notch included, for
twenty-nine thousand dollars a mile, with materials at hand,
along the whole distance ; land damages little or nothing, as
the whole country is astir in its favor, the worst grade being
only sixty-five feet to the mile, and that through the White
Hills, where the track will run along the side of a mountain,
two hundred feet above the present travelled road, and all the
rest comparatively level, or nearly so. The road will un-
doubtedly be built; and the granaries of the west be emptied
into our unequalled harbor, through this new outlet, within
two or three years; and timber growth enough opened to pay
for the road — almost.
Our building is on a magnificent scale just now. We have
determined to bring the Sebago into our houses, come what
may; the waste places are blossoming with life and beauty;
six churches are going up, the new post-office of white Ver-
mont marble, the custom-house, the city-hall, many blocks
of stores and houses, far handsomer and more convenient
than we ever had before; and a hotel so large, that nine
stores will constitute the lower story on Middle and Plum
Streets.
And now, having recorded the progress of our beautiful
city for the last month or two, let me return to my story,
which, sooth to say, I have not dared to meddle with, in the
hurry and bustle of so much business.
At last, then, I found myself in Boston, — a stranger among
strangers; for I knew but one or two persons at most, and
was afraid of meeting either of them, before I had secured a
resting-place for the sole of my foot. I rose early, long be-
fore the rest of the world, on the first sabbath-morning that
followed, and took my way, of course, toward Marlboro'-Street,
BUSINESS OPERATIONS THROUGH LIFE.
135
wishing to see how the land lay, before I stopped long enough
anywhere to take root. With some difficulty, I found the num-
ber — it was nearly opposite the Marlboro'-Hotel — and there
saw the name of my correspondent. There were two large
bay-windows in the store, and all overhead was occupied by
the family. For a wholesale and retail dry-goods establish-
ment, in a large city, as Boston was then regarded, though
not larger than Portland is now, this did not seem to me very
magnificent, I must acknowledge ; for, up to this time, all
the stores I had ever been employed in, were at least three
stories high, with no part occupied for dwellings. It is very
true that the upper stories were almost always empty, with
one single exception, that of Mr. Willis in Haymarket Row;
but still they were stores, or warehouses, and not finished
chambers, for dwellings or offices.
That day, I walked on the hot pavements, until my feet
were blistered ; sauntering through the mall, as I saw others
doing, and meeting at every turn two men, I shall never for-
get, both remarkable for stature, and beauty of person, and a
free, graceful carriage. One was a hatter, who seemed to enjoy
being stared at, as he paraded the broad avenue all day long,
to and fro, with the air of a prince, the “ monarch of all he
surveyed,” — another Thaddeus of Warsaw, at least, if I
might judge by the countenances I saw, and the observa-
tions I heard ; the other, Lucius Manlius Sargent, then in
the meridian of his manly beauty and great strength; and
both rigged out in stocking-net pantaloons and half boots,
displaying their handsome legs to the greatest possible advan-
tage, as poor Thaddeus did his, in Hyde Park, if we may
believe Miss Porter. Probably the style and carriage of
these two remarkable men were adopted from her representa-
tion of the Polish hero.
I was now my own master, an adventurer, and had come to
the metropolis to seek my fortune. Having wandered about
the town all day long, and surveyed the State-Houses, both
old and new, and taken a glance at Bunker-Hill, and at the
large warehouses, and wharves, and retail establishments, I
began to feel as if we should soon be better acquainted, and
that, within a few days, at furthest, I might hope to belong
to them, as part and parcel of the population. Having visited
136
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Boston before, I was not altogether a stranger to the place,
though I was to the people; and meant so to continue for
a while, happen what might.
The next day, Monday, I had no sooner swallowed my
breakfast, than I determined to have the question settled
at once, and know before I slept whether I was to be a
Bostonian, or not. :
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
137
CHAPTER X.
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
BOSTON SHOPKEEPING; NEW BUSINESS ARRANGEMENTS; JOHN PIERPONT;
OUR FIRST ACQUAINTANCE; JOBBING; NEW YORK; SMUGGLING; BOSTON
COPARTNERSHIPS; PIERPONT AND LORD; CHARLESTON STORE, S.C.; AD-
VENTURES IN BUSINESS AT BALTIMORE.
I FOUND the “store” open at a very early hour, and Mr. M.
arranging for the business of the day. On entering, I was
not a little amused - astonished, I might say — at the gen-
eral aspect of the establishment. On one side, there were
show-cases with cheap jewellery, silver tea-spoons, and all sorts
of Brummagem knick-knackery, a chest of tea, and a long
array of japanned waiters, with landscapes and figures and
blazonry of the choicest patterns; on the other, and in front,
a large assortment of what seemed to be the refuse of
many a retail-shop, and many a small auction of haber-
dashery. And this was the wholesale and retail dry-goods
establishment, to which I was invited.
Mr. M. I found to be a tall, thin man, with black hair, just
beginning to change, and cut very close. Nothing could be
more precise, nothing more serious, than his bearing and
equipment. His hat you could see your face in; and his
pepper-and-salt clothes looked as if they had never been
tumbled, since they came out of the hands of the tailor.
With small sharp eyes — very black, in appearance — a rather
strange cadaverous complexion, and a solemnity of manner
which seemed wholly out of place behind the counter, the
first impression I received, was far from favorable. But,
upon introducing myself, and entering into conversation with
him, his countenance lighted up; and, at the end of ten or
fifteen minutes, we had entered into an arrangement, and I
found my prejudices giving way.
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
I was to have either eighty or a hundred dollars a year,
I forget which, with board and washing in the family;
to have the whole charge of the business — to open shop,
sweep, and dust, and be always on hand, from a very early
hour, until we shut up in the evening.
To all this, I made no objection, for I longed to be at
work once more; and the smell of the goods, though inost
of them were musty and shop-worn, was grateful to me.
I had no acquaintances, and never passed an evening out
of the house, I believe; and though, I used to be called
out of bed at a most unreasonable hour, and didn't half like
Mr. Murphy's way of doing business, nor his long prayers
before we parted for the night, still we managed to get along
pretty well together, for nearly a twelvemonth. His wife,
a very pleasant, amiable woman, treated me like a younger
brother; and I was glad to pass what spare time I had at my
own disposal, in her society. I used to go to bed soon after
nine o'clock, at all seasons; and though I took a stroll on the
sabbath, and sometimes wandered away off into the country,
yet I always went to meeting at least once a day, and, if I am
not greatly mistaken, twice. . The Old South, in which Mr.
Huntington then preached, was reckoned among the fashion-
ably orthodox; and Mr. M. was a leading professor.
And, when I mention a few of his peculiarities, it will not
be wondered at, that I was troubled with certain misgivings,
not of a religious character, but of a nature to make me sus-
picious of all sanctimonious pretension.
The first thing I saw that disturbed my faith in the man,
was seeing him smooth his hat with the most elaborate care-
fulness, wiping it with a fine towel after it had been brushed
with a very soft brush over and over again, while the bells
were ringing for church, and his wife was waiting for him in
the passage-way; and this, after one of his longest prayers for
grace to keep the sabbath holy.
But certain of his business habits, after I had got acquainted
with them, had a still more disastrous effect upon me. They
were too much of a piece with what I had been accustomed
to among the heterodox, the world's people, who cared for
none of these things. For example:
He had acquired a reputation for selling the best teas in
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
139
the market; and, although he charged a high price, there
were certain wealthy families who depended altogether upon
him for their supplies, without regard to cost. And yet I
never knew him to liave more than two or three chests on
hand at any time; and that always of the same. kind, “Old
Hyson,” if I recollect rightly. On receiving a new chest into
the store, the tea-drinking cognoscenti were confidentially
notified: a large part was weighed out, and put up into pound
bundles, ready for applicants, who always took it for a favor ;
and so long as that particular brand was on tap, Mr. Murphy
went no further into the speculation. One would have sup-
posed the article had come, over land, by the way of Russia,
or that it had been smușgled, so much whispering was there
between him and his tea-drinking customers, after a fresh
arrival, and so mysterious were some of the proceedings.
But with his advanced price, and settled reputation for sell-
ing the best, and only the best, he managed to make of it a
very pretty business.
Another way he had of turning an honest penny was, under
pretence of keeping a goldsmith's shop, to take in all sorts of
trinkets — with their proprietors — for repair. These he
would sometimes mend in his own way with shellac or sealing-
wax, or send off to a working-jeweller, and then charge three
times the price he paid for the work. But people never com-
plained, or never but once, to my knowledge, when a pair of
large golden hoops parted, before the owner had fairly reached
her home: they had been stuck together by Mr. M. at a cost
which seemed rather unreasonable, even if they had been
faithfully mended. The matter was finally settled — I know
not how — perhaps with a plausible explanation, and another
dip into the glue-pot, or a touch of the blowpipe.
One other incident, and I have done with my illustrations
of character here. The late Deacon Samuel May's family
were among his best customers, and always had their tea of
him, I believe. One day, it happened that they wanted
mourning for the family; and it was not to be had, in a hurry.
Bit Mr. M. had a quantity of cotton cambric remnants on
hand, which had been lately dyed, and were warranted not to
smut. They were shop-worn, to be sure, and of different
qualities and colors and widths; but, then, they would do for
140
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
LO
mourning. And the whole family were provided for, as a great
favor; the war having made new goods impossible, and shop-
worn, old-fashioned, worthless rubbish, of unspeakable value,
especially in a case of sudden death.
After the funeral was over, two of the family called to
remonstrate with me, and to show me their dresses: they
were absolutely ragged, full of holes, and so different in color
that some of the breadths appeared changeable, and not unlike
what was then called chambray.
What the worthy man said, I do not now remember; but,
preserving his gracious perpendicularity, and seriousness of
look, and answering all they could say, as if wondering at
their unreasonable pertinacity, he got rid of them at last- and
they were among his best customers - upon the ground that he
had to buy what he could, where he could, for the supply of
his friends, and, of course, would not buy any thing unmer-
chantable, if he knew it. And this was all the satisfaction
they ever got. Of course, if such were the saints, one would
like to know how the sinners would behave, under a serious
temptation.
With this unfortunate gentleman, who, I verily believe, had
no idea, that for a professor to do such things, in the way of
business, provided he went three times a day to church on the
sabbath, and was exceedingly scrupulous about appearances,
and wore a smooth, shiny hat, and a pepper-and-salt suit,
always newly brushed, and said long prayers, night and morn-
ing, with a snuffle, was much out of the way with this
I was led to look upon him as a type of the orthodox faith,
and but for his dear wife, who was, I have no doubt, a sincere
and humble Christian, I should have gone over, body and soul,
as I did long afterward, to the Universalists and Unitarians
-- I labored for another year, according to my present recol-
lection.
But, in the course of the summer, I had become acquainted
- I know not how — with a young man, a pocket-book manu-
facturer, by the name of Lord, Erastus A. Lord, who had
once lived in Portland, and kept a bookstore and bindery
there, as he told me. He was doing, to all appearance, a very
profitable business, the war having made it almost impossible
.
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
141
to supply the demand for wallets, and pocket-books, and port-
folios; but he wanted something better, and having koown
me at Portland, when I was with Mr. Hill, or Mr. Willis, I
forget which, and having seen how I managed for Mr. Mur-
phy, he proposed to go into partnership with me; to furnish
all the capital needed, and to open a retail dry-goods establish-
ment, which would be left in my charge altogether, while he
went on with his pocket-book manufactory, which was yield-
ing a prodigious profit, and was capable of indefinite enlarge-
ment, if he could only find workmen. He appeared to have
money enough, both for business and pleasure ; kept a horse
and gig, and spent most of his afternoons in riding about the
neighborhood, and paying other people's bills; being both gen-
erous and extravagant.
I had no objection to such an arrangement; indeed, I rather
desired it, as one way of being my own master, and of show-
ing to the world what I was good for. I was just out of my
time -- as I have been ever since — and felt a deep inward
consciousness, I might say assurance, that I had a mission to .
fulfil, and that the world had something for me to do, though
what it was, I knew not, like poor old Lear, when he threat-
ened to astonish it.
But there were questions to be asked, and answered, before
I would consent to commit myself.
How much capital would he put in, and in what shape?
was my first inquiry.
Whatever might be needed, was the reply. He had a
brother, Joseph L. Lord, then at work between the British
possessions and our large cities, buying smuggled goods, and
sending them by wagons to New York, where they always
met with a ready sale, at enormous rates. This brother
would indorse our notes for whatever we wanted to buy, and
such notes would always be equal to cash, for business
purposes.
But where should we look for a store ? Such a conven-
ience, it seemed, was not to be had in the whole city of Bos-
ton, unless I would consent to burrow in some blind alley, or
migrate into the border-lands.
However, that difficulty was overcome at last. An old
retail-shop might be had, upon the simple condition of taking
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the stock at cost. The proprietor had been long established;
and most of his goods, though somewhat antiquated and shop-
worn, had been “laid in” before the war - you would have
thought so, if you had seen the blankets. I went to see
the goods. To all appearance, they were in capital order,
and, if old-fashioned, were not likely to be unsalable in a
market where every thing sold, even dyed remnants of parti-
colored cambrics, for mourning. The stand was all we could
wish for, being just beyond the Old South ; and the stock, at
a rough estimate, was believed to be worth, at cost, about six
or eight thousand dollars. Upon this calculation, the bargain
was closed between my partner and Mr. Winn, the proprietor;
we to give our partnership-notes on a credit of six, twelve,
and cighteen months, if I do not mistake, with Mr. Joseph L.
Lord's indorsement, which was “ perfectly satisfactory."
Meanwhile, having arranged my own business, and drawn
up articles of copartnership, I notified Mr. Murphy of my
intentions. Instead of taking the matter kindly, and con-
gratulating me on my prospects, he began to ride a very high
horse, and finally went so far as to say that he had suspected
as much, from the underhand course I had taken. We were
standing together, at the time he said this, near a large win-
dow, opening into a narrow area, which separated the back
part of the shop from an addition, which was used for a din-
ing-room. I fired up, and demanded an explanation, having
about made up my mind to pitch him into his wife's lap, as
she sat by the open window just opposite, if he did not satisfy
me. I did not raise my voice, nor did she hear what I said;
but she saw that mischief was brewing, as I understood after it
was all over, and was just on the point of interferiny, when her
husband came to his senses, and, speaking in the blandest of
tones, asked me if I did not remember covering the page with
my hand one day, not long before, when he was passing the
desk. - Perfectly," said l. “ Well, then, was not that
underhanded ?”
Of course, there was not another word to be said. I set-
tled with him on the spot, bade his wife good-b’ye, and vanished,
with my trunk and rattletraps; going to board with my part-
ner, at Mr. Pierpont's, in Hancock-Street; he having married
a sister of Joseph and Erastus, and having an office in Court
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
143
Street, where he spent his whole time, for want of better
business, in waiting for the grass to grow, reading and writing
poetry, and engraving seals for amusement.
By the end of another week, we liad ascertained, to my
unspeakable astonishment, that the stock we had agreed to
purchase, instead of amounting to six or eight thousand dol-
lars, would overrun twelve or fourteen thousand. This was
“ too much --- much too much.” It seemed as if all the old
bandboxes, and refuse, and rubbish of a business, which had
been carried on for nobody knew how long, had become of
priceless value. And so we backed out, under the pretence
that Joseph would not indorse for so large an amount.
Nor would he — of that I am sure - even for half the amount,
had he seen the stock. He would rather have dug clams at
the halves, when the tide was up; and again, I was out of
business, drifting I knew not whither.
July 5, 1867. — The anniversary of our terrible visitation
is over ; and so are the gypsy threatenings and prophecies,
which had begun to trouble not a few of our people, who
delight in mystery, and believe in the predictions of the aged
and the ignorant, as they do in their medicines, until Indians
and idiots are treated as if they were the special favorites of
Heaven, and gifted with a foresight akin to foreknowledge.
Being good for nothing else, therefore, they are supposed to be
good at prophesying and doctoring. These gypsies, who had
lately found their way over the Canada frontier, having
brought with them a large number of horses, upon which no
duties were paid, and which, for that reason, were seized by
our collector, began straightway to prophesy, that, on the com-
ing Fourth of July, the rest of our beautiful city would be
laid in ashes. And —- would you believe it! — there were
hundreds, not to say thousands, among us, fools enough to
believe them, or fools enough to be seriously frightened.
And even our city authorities, with a view to what might
happen, gave public notice that all the engines would be fired
up, the horses all kept harnessed, and the engine houses open,
till the danger was over, thereby, instead of tranquillizing
the public mind, helping to disturb it; for who should say
what might not happen, if the wind should rise, and a fire
break out along the upper part of Commercial - Street ?
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
n
Where the cars are constantly running, and throwing out a
hurricane of cinders and sparks, on their way through piles
of lumber, heaps of shavings, coopers' shops, and shanties,
with hardly a brick building to be seen, on either side of the
way, for one-third of the distance, what wonder that live
coals are found, all along the way, after a high wind, or that
many fires have caught before that of last July, and one,
where a large quantity of hay was destroyed, with I know
not how many wooden warehouses, or sheds ? Even yester-
day, a fire did take place from the sparks of a locomotive;
and yet we allow the managers to burn wood, as hitherto,
instead of anthracite — and this, after it has been clearly ascer-
tained that the great fire itself was caused, not by fire-
crackers, or Lucifer matches, thrown among the rubbish of a
boat-builder's premises, as then reported, and believed, but by
a passing locomotive, in full blast, throwing out a torrent of
cinders all the way. But the evil must be put a stop to.
And now to resume. Being once more adrift, what was I
to do? Our partnership scheme was ended; and the capital
I had been assured of so confidently, had vanished for ever.
I could not be idle: it would have killed me in three months;
and so I concluded to open a jobbing-house, in the chamber
on Court-Street, where I first saw my friend, the Rev. John
Pierpont, then a starveling at law. He was dying of inani-
tion, slowly drying up, and might soon have been blown away,
had not his brother-in-law, that very Mr. Joseph L. Lord, of
whom I have had occasion to speak already, persuaded him
to give up the law, and seal-cutting, and occasional poetry, for
a copartnership with him, in the retail and jobbing dry-goods
business. Not that our good friend Pierpont knew any thing
about such matters; not that he was by nature fitted for any
kind of business, apart from the law; but then, he wrote
a beautiful hand, was a capital book-keeper, in his way,
was married to Mr. Lord's sister, and had already three chil-
dren to begin with. Moreover, he was uncomfortably poor,
and in failing health; so that he was nearer the grave in 1812
-13 and 14, than at any other time, for the next forty years.
Undoubtedly, this new occupation saved him. Not long
before, Mr. Lord had been in partnership with a Mr. Farns-
worth, under the firm of Lord and Farnsworth, in a large
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
145
store, at the corner of Court and Washington Streets, then
Marlboro'- Street.
Upon entering into this new business arrangement, my
friend, the poet, had no further use for the room he occupied.
I was boarding with him at the time; and, when he told me
that he had given it up, the idea instantly took possession of
me that there was an opening for just such enterprise as I
had always been somewhat distinguished for. I lost no time,
therefore, in securing the stand, and, within forty-eight hours,
had invested my whole capital (not far from thirty thousand
-cents) in a few articles — few, but fitting - which I spread
out on two or three large pine tables, in such a way, that the
unexperienced would have mistaken them for “quite a heap,"
like Pindar's razors. To these, I added a trunk of calicoes,
which had been bought on the strength of Mr. J. L. Lord's
indorsement, while his brother Erastus and I were waiting for
the account of stock to be finished, and were left on my
hands, together with a bale or two of blue-plains, which I
had bought one day at auction, upon the strength of my uncle
James Neal's credit; he having authorized me to draw on him,
if I needed help.
And this was all. Having arranged my goods, I sat down
and waited for customers; and then, after waiting two or three
days, I re-arranged them, and marked them all over at reduced
prices; but all in vain. I was upstairs, I had not even a
sign; and how on earth could I hope for customers, in such
an out-of-the-way place? But these considerations came too
late; and at the end of a week, or ten days at furthest, I
became satisfied that I should never be able to do any busi-
ness worth mentioning, as a jobber, in that small room. Not
a pennyworth had I been able to sell, though I had waylaid
many å passing stranger, and had “ tried it on ” with my old
master, Rundlet, whom I met one day, when I knew he was
on the look-out for just such blue-plains as I happened to
have on hand; but no! either his contract with commissary
Langdon had been filled, or he was inclined not to encourage
my interference with a long-established monopoly. Not a
pennyworth! and my board-bill running up, hand over hand;
my rent, and my personal expenses.
At last, I concluded to drop in upon my friend Murphy,
10
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
who, by the way, sorry though he had been to part with me,
would not take the hint, when I called upon him, by accident,
just after the overthrow of my copartnership-dream, and would
have gladly gone back to the place I had thrown up, though I
did not say so — I would have died first — and offered him a
chance to buy me out.
I succeeded so far as to get him into my trap, where I
showed him the goods, and the invoices, and told him what
might be done with them in his establishment. He seemed
struck with the bargains I had obtained, and I knew he had
great respect for my shrewdness and judgment; for he had
always bought on my recommendation, where I saw any
thing I thought would pay, and had never been disappointed
in the result. My invoices were all before him, unchanged,
untampered with; and yet, as he probably saw how much I
wanted to be rid of my stock, he not only did not buy a six-
penceworth, but he would not even make an offer.
I was indignant, of course; but I kept my temper — and
have it now; and we parted, never again to meet on earth,
and never to have any business transactions together, except
one, which occurred after I had got established at Baltimore,
eighteen months or two years later; and that, being eminently
characteristic of the man, I shall venture to give here. Hav-
ing to remit large sums in payment for the goods sent me by
Pierpont and Lord, from Boston, and exchange being from
twenty to twenty-five per cent against Baltimore, we used to
ship nankins and other out-of-the-way merchandise, instead of
bank drafts. One day, Mr. Lord, who was always on the watch.
for a customer, fell in with Mr. Murphy; and after chaffering
awhile about remittances, exchange, &c., broached the subject
of nankins, and finally succeeded in selling him two or three
thousand dollars' worth, at a price agreed upon. They were
to be of a certain chop, to be forwarded without delay, and to
be paid for, on delivery. No writings were drawn; but every-
thing was clearly stated in a business-like way, each trusting
to the other's honor.
When the goods arrived, Mr. Lord notified Murphy, and
passed over the bills of lading; but, when they came to settle
up, Mr. Murphy claimed that he had bought the nankins four
or five cents a piece lower than they were charged. “If not
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
147
so," said he, " where did I get the impression?” And this
particular phrase became a by-word with us, from that day
forward, whenever we had to do with a shuffler. Luckily
for Mr. Lord, there was a witness, or some sort of a memo-
randum, which determined the question; and they settled
accordingly.
To return, however. Not being able to get rid of my
stock-in-trade to Mr. Murphy, nor to anybody else, and
somewhat unwilling to sit still, and suck my thumbs, though
I had nothing better in prospect for a while — a long while,
it seemed to me - it may well be supposed that I jumped at
an offer made me by Mr. J. L. Lord, soon after I had met
him, with Erastus, at a bowling-alley, where we discussed
our prospects in copartnership, our narrow escape from the
old shop-worn stock of Mr. Winn, and the chances for smug-
gled goods in the New-York market.
After a brief negotiation, it was agreed by and between us,
that I should take charge of all the goods which Mr.J. L. Lord
— or Pierpont and Lord, rather — had managed to get posses-
sion of, and sell them, either privately or otherwise, in the New-
York market; and within the next four and twenty hours, I
was on my way to that city of adventurers, followed by two or
three wagon-loads of just the kind of goods then most wanted
there, consisting of calicoes, or prints, with trunks of shawls,
ginghams, and muslins.
By the help of a Mr. Stevenson, a nephew of the late Davy
Bethune, the goods were safely stored, and, within a week or
ten days, actually sold for cash, either at auction or privately;
and, among them, my case of prints, and my blue plains,
and all the other nightmares and dead weights I had accu-
mulated in Court Street, and I had the returns in my pocket.
But I could not bear the idea of losing, from twenty to twenty-
five per cent, or something less, on my New-York money ;
and after some inquiry, and I believe at the suggestion of
Mr. Stevenson himself, I concluded to visit Baltimore, where
I had reason to believe exchange on England could be had
of Robert Gilmore and Sons, or Colonel Tenant, on such
terms that something handsome might be saved on the fifteen
or twenty thousand dollars I took with me.
But, when I reached Baltimore, I found the house of Gil-
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more and Sons unable, or unwilling, to draw; and Colonel
Tenant in the field, reviewing his troops. But I had no time
to lose, and was not inclined to stand upon ceremony, even
with a militia colonel ; and so, finding myself in rather a tight
place, and the colonel indisposed to draw — perhaps from
unwillingness to convert a parade-ground into a counting-
room, and enter into negotiations on horseback - I hurried
off once more to see the Messrs. Gilmore, and succeeded, at
last, in obtaining the bills I wanted, though not on such favor-
able terms as I had hoped. But I made a saving of two or
three per cent, over and above my expenses; there being no
telegraph in those days, and communication was by stage-
coach and mail only.
Meanwhile, my friends in Boston, to whom I had written
that I was “off to Baltimore to buy exchange," began to be
frightened, although I never could persuade them to acknowl-
edge any thing more than that. Happening to meet my old
master, Rundlet, in the midst of their perplexity, and my
strange silence -- for the only letter I had time to write, after I
reached Baltimore, had been delayed, in some way, I forget
how — they had questioned him about me, and had been coun-
selled not to give themselves any uneasiness; for whatever
else I might be, or not be, I was clever, shrewd, and trust-
worthy, and they might be sure of my turning up in the right
place. And so it proved; for, the very next day, I returned
with the bills on London, all in apple-pie order, and all “ per-
fectly satisfactory."
This operation, I now see, though I had no suspicion of
the fact then, determined my course of action for the next
two or three years, and I might say for life. It had made
me acquainted with New-York and Baltimore; both of which
are now pictured upon my heart, with the distinctness of a
daguerréotype. It had opened a wide field of observation to
me, and given me not months, but years, of experience.
Among other things I had learned, was this, that in New
York it was not always thought discreditable for a jobber
of high standing to behave like a horse-jockey; one of the
most respectable having bought a trunk of shawls one day,
which came to nearly two thousand dollars, and then refused
to pay for them, though the prices were fixed, and the terms
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
149
cash; and when I told the story to others, they only laughed
at me, for supposing that a bargain was a bargain, before the
money was paid over, and the goods delivered. Alas for my
simplicity! Though reckoned sharp enough Down-East, I
found I had much to learn about Wall-Street and Peck-Slip;
and I lost no time in learning it.
Soon after my return, my friend Erastus made another
proposition, which, after talking the business over with “our
Joe," I accepted. It was to open a retail store at 103, Court
Street; Pierpont and Lord occupying the corner, and Eras-
tus carrying on his pocket-book manufactory, I know not
where, but so as not to interfere with my business.
The store, as they called it, though it was only a shop, was
of rather contracted proportions, and exceedingly shallow.
But I managed, nevertheless, to do a good business in it,
and, for a long time, without assistance. And this reminds
me that I must have been mistaken about the help offered
me by my good uncle James, when I purchased the blue
plains at auction, giving his name for a guarantor, and when
I tried to persuade Mr. Rundlet to spring the trap I had
set for him. It was after my jobbing-establishment was
broken up, and after I had gone into the retail-business; and,
of course, the confounded blue-plains, which had given me so
much trouble, were never got rid of in New York, but in
Baltimore.
I was now comparatively happy; selling for cash, busy all
day long, getting ahead fast enough to satisfy even my ambi-
tion, and boarding at Mr. Pierpont's, where we soon got on
terms of what in time became a friendship, sincere and
lasting.
But "our Joe” was a most inveterate schemer; and never
satisfied with the condition of things about him, so long as
there seemed to be any better possibility within reach. After
a while, therefore, he suggested, for the second time, a disso-
lution of my copartnership with his brother. And why not?
Erastus had furnished no capital, and had nothing to do with
my business. All the inducement I had, therefore, to continue
the copartnership, was in the fact that Pierpont and Lord
were not afraid to trust us, and would help us, at a pinch, with
their indorsement.
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
The affair was very soon arranged. Our connection was
ended. And, soon after, “our Joe” suggested another change.
He had fallen acquainted with a young man just out of col-
lege, who, with a small capital, not exceeding fifteen hundred
dollars, wanted to live without work. After a little manæuv-
ring, I yielded, and went into copartnership with a Mr. Fisher,
who knew nothing of business, and could hardly tell a ging-
ham from a calico, or a piece of quality-binding from a row
of pins. But I persevered, nevertheless, until 5 our Joe”
began to have other views, which he presented after so plausi-
ble a fashion, that Fisher and I dissolved, parting on the best
of terms; and Messrs. Pierpont and Lord became my part-
ners, though their names did not appear in any of our busi-
ness transactions; and my sign, though the shop underwent
change after change, continued to the last, “ John Neal ;”
only that, and nothing more.
July 22, 1867. — “I do confess that I am old,” says Lear.
“ Age is unnecessary.” With slight symptoms of angina
pectoris, I am beginning to think so too, though my health is
good enongh to astonish, not only others, but myself; and I
have lately undergone fatigue enough, on our visit to Oswego,
with a view to opening a new thoroughfare through the White
Hills, to Chicago and the Pacific, to break down most people
of my age. And yet I bore it as well as the youngest and
strongest of our large party. We have now had more than
a week of the coldest weather I cver knew at this season of
the year, with four days and nights of almost uninterrupted
rain.
July 23, 1867.— A most beautiful day, warm, bright, and
fragrant. I must go to work once more.
In the spring of 1815, when I was in my twenty-second
year, the war ended most unexpectedly, taking us all by sur-
prise, and making it necessary for the holders of British and
foreign merchandise to bestir themselves. My stock was not
large; and, if I had been left to myself, I could have run it
off in three or four months, without loss; buying only what I
needed for bait, and keeping up the supply in a falling mar-
ket. But Pierpont and Lord were in a very different condi-
tion. They had bought largely on a rising market, up to the
arrival of the news we so much wanted, as a people, and so
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
151
hopes, like a pile of card-houses, in a puff from the open
window.
And now what was to be done ? Nobody wanted to buy,
unless from hand to mouth; and everybody wanted to sell.
There was no market value for any thing, and no calculations
to be made for the future, and even those who bought capital
bargains for cash, were glad enough in a week to sell at a loss,
for “approved indorsed paper."
After many days of consultation, it was determined among
us, that Mr. Pierpont, as our representative-man, should go to
Baltimore, with letters, which would be sure to give him a
footing there among the magnates; and, after looking about
him, and satisfying himself, make up his mind about sending
me on there, with a stock of seasonable goods, if they were
likely to be well received. I objected from the first; being
satisfied with the small, though safe business I was then
doing, and having no relish for adventure. But I was out-
voted and overruled ; and, at the end of two or three weeks,
Mr. Pierpont returned with such abundant and conclusive
reasons for carrying out the plan of operations, first projected
by "our Joe,” that I had nothing more to say. And within
a month, I was at Baltimore, and established in South-Calvert
Street, No. 12, where I opened a retail-store with the cut
goods I had brought from Boston. But, after a few days,
I found that I could sell any thing and every thing, by the
piece or yard, package or bale, for almost any price I thought
proper to ask. The idea of retailing was therefore abandoned,
at once, and for ever; and I began to sell by the piece, and
sometimes, when I had it in my power, by the case. Ex-
change on Boston was from eighteen to twenty-five per cent
advance, the banks there paying specie, while everywhere
else, and even in New York, they had suspended specie-pay-
ments; and the whole country was flooded with shin-plasters,
and dirty, ragged bits of pasteboard, which passed there, and
in Philadelphia and Baltimore, and further South, for change;
bearing about the same relation to the beautiful fragmentary
scrip we have now, that the old-fashioned continental money
bears to our legal-tenders, and other national issues.
Notwithstanding these great disadvantages, however, and
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
the cost of living in Baltimore, and the heavy rent - heavy,
in proportion to what I had been paying in Boston, though I
had taken a store in a side street, where no retail-business
had ever been tried — I succeeded in effecting large sales at
a handsome profit, oftentimes amounting to 25, 33}, and even
40 per cent clear, and always for cash. My friends at Boston
kept me well supplied; and my remittances were to them
for they were doing little or no business, and their notes were
fast falling due -- like fresh air, let into an exhausted re-
ceiver. Long before I had entered upon the jobbing busi-
ness, so successful had I been, and so greatly encouraged were
they, that they determined to clear out, and establish them-
selves in Baltimore, with all their families and household
stuff, and all the goods they might be able to get together.
I succeeded in obtaining for them a large warehouse oppo-
site mine, with a handsome dwelling overhead, after a style
very common at Baltimore; and they were soon settled,
housed, and hard at work, with every thing to justify their
enterprise. We bought largely, and sold freely ; but — alas
for my old-fashioned way of doing business !-- instead of selling
for cash, or even for short credits, they were so anxious to get
rid of their purchases at a large profit, nominally, that they
sold for six and twelve months, and to persons of doubtful
credit — slow coaches from Virginia and the West, with firms
like Banks Dangerfield and Company, having three or four
partners apiece, and two or three and-so-forths, to mislead
people. The result of all which was, that, before long, we
had to pack off Mr. Pierpont to Charleston, S.C., where he
succeeded in establishing another jobbing and retail establish-
ment, under the charge of Mr. Gerry, a clerk they had
brought from Boston, and a vagabond Englishman, who had
once been a book-keeper for a Mr. Dayton at Philadelphia,
and, I have no doubt, an actor in some strolling company.
Here began our troubles. We had too many goods on hand
for a falling market: our sales were limited, and our debtor's
what everybody understands by long-winded. We had to
raise large sums at enormous rates, pledging our goods for
security. The enterprise at Charleston proved a miserable
failure, owing to the extravagance and bad management of
Saubiere, though we had acted upon the supposition that the
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
153
news of peace had never reached Charleston, and I am half
inclined to think so now, in November, 1868; and judging by
the prices they were willing to pay at first, as they did in Bal-
timore, the supposition seemed to be justifiable.
But our end was approaching. The Charleston stock was
withdrawn, or what there was left of it, and a retail store
opened in Calvert Street, of which I afterwards took charge.
Our creditors were called together, and a committee chosen
to look into our affairs; and upon their report, every way
satisfactory, we obtained an extension (April 19, 1816) for
twelve months. with interest.
On that very day, Mr. Pierpont was writing what follows:
“Charleston, 19th April, 1816.
“DEAR NEAL, — Damnation! R. S., Jr., and Co., have as-
signed every thing but a few bushels of gourd-seed corn lying
in his store; and of that, a bill has been made. He heard of
this thing but yesterday. One day, however, is enough for a
thing to slip through our fingers. Nothing can be done but
hunch up our shoulders, and take the blow. Stevens says
the house won't do any such thing as pay seventy-five cents
on the dollar. Bedticks sold, and sold well, at forty-five cents
all round. Saubiere has certainly swindled us out of fifteen
hundred dollars. Neither Gordon, nor Newton, nor Smiley,
nor Teneyck, nor Rogers, nor C. Bronough, nor Banks, will
pay when due, if ever. Very much at leisure here in Ste-
vens's store, and very much at your service. PIERPONT.”
Poor fellow! How suddenly this brief letter, which I
lighted on but a few minutes ago, brings back to my recollec-
tion all the suffering and sorrow, the disappointment and mor-
tification, of that dismal day — a day which emancipated both
him and me, without our knowledge or consent, however,
from the red-hot, heavy shackles we had worn so long in our
business relations. Let me add that his gloomy forebodings
were all justified ; and that, long before the twelve montlis'
extension had expired, we were bankrupt indeed, ruined
beyond the possibility of restoration.
With a view to keeping an assortment, Mr. Lord went on
to Philadelphia, and purchased, not largely - very moder-
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
ately, for him — of the goorls most wanted for the retail-store
which I had consented to take charge of, and for their sum-
mer jobbing. While he was away, I made up my mind that
we must fail. My credit was still good; and the purchases
had all been paid for by drafts on me, at four and six months.
On his return, full of unbounded trust in himself, and in the
future, Mr. Lord took a share of the bed, - a bed in my
counting-room ; and we talked the matter all over, hour after
hour. At first, he could not believe me: I had got the blues,
he thought. Hadn't we just received a new stock of "sweet-
eners," all paid for; and what on earth had we to fear?
Hadn't we lots of friends, with three capital stores, in the
best part of the city, for our business, with character and
experience ? - I wanted to groan, but forbore. --- Having
succeeded once before, with a “stiff upper lip,” when every
thing was against us, why not again? “Wait till morning,
John, and you will see things in a different light."
I did wait till morning, and, after consultation with Mr.
Pierpont, who sat thunderstruck for a while, as I went on
with my demonstrations, we came to the conclusion that we
had reached the end of our tether, and must return the goods
purchased at Philadelphia, without opening a package; and
go into the Insolveut Debtors' Court — nem. con.
And this we did. And here ended my business operations
for life, and those of my friend Pierpont. I determined to
have nothing more to do with business, or with partnerships ;
but to go to work and educate myself, as best I might, “re-
gardless of expense” - and having literally nothing to lose
- and then go to the bar; while Mr. Pierpont, who had been
looking another way, and much higher, for months, began to
think of the pulpit; and Mr. Lord, of supplying Covent-Gar-
den with New-York pippins, by the cargo — which ruined
him a second time, before I was fairly launched, as a student
at law.
On further consideration, it seems to me that one or two
incidents, which have just occurred to me, may not be wholly
out of place at the end of this chapter, showing how we man-
aged our business in Baltimore.
One day, after a deal of urgent solicitation from Mr.
George Grundy, the father, to whom I had carried letters
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
155
from Mr. Pierpont, I consented to make a bill with him.
Among my purchases were some bales of blankets, fresh
importations, and offered at fair prices. On getting them
into my warehouse, in Calvert Street, I altered the marks,
and so managed as to make G G. & Son read like J. N.
After I hau entered them on my invoice-book -- not as
they ought to have been entered, I must acknowledge, but
so as to appear somewhat larger than they did in the original
invoice, and consequently somewhat cheaper -a Mr. Riggs,
the partner of our celebrated George Peabody, under the firm
of Riggs and Peabody, called to see our blankets, and get the
prices. Mr. Riggs, by the way, was a very shrewd, careful
man, and was not to be satisfied without measuring the arti-
cle; saying, while so employed, that he had just been looking
at some bales, which, as they were not opened, he had not
been allowed to measure, at Messrs. George Grundy and
Sons. I expressed my surprise at their procedure, and in-
stantly tumbled half a bale upon the floor, with a request that
he would satisfy himself, by actual measurement.
After a thorough examination, with Mr. Grundy's prices
before him, he bought mine, paid for them, cash down — for
money was plenty at Baltimore, after the battle of North-
Point, and goods were always sold for cash, though the bills
might not be sent in for a week, or even a month — and took
them off to his store in Market-Street, where they were left
outside in the sunshine, as bait for the Western-country traders.
The next day, in passing the warehouse of Messrs. Riggs
and Peabody, I saw, to my great amazement --- perhaps I
ought to say amusement, for I felt no sense of shame, and not
the least possible twinge of conscience — the letters J. N.
faded out, and the original marks re-appearing of G. G. &
Sons; and lost no time in hurrying home, that I might rejoice
with my partner (Mr. Lord) over the clever trick I had
played, and over the comfortable fact that we had got our
pay. Whether Mr. Pierpont knew of the affair at the time,
I cannot say; but I am quite sure that he did, before many
days were over, and that he too regarded it as a capital joke.
So much for the corrupting influences men are exposed to in l.
trade, even where they mean to be honest, and are honest, as
the world goes, in forty-nine cases out of fifty; though they
156
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
may mark up their prints a half-yard, or three-quarters, on
every piece, and their broadcloths, cassimeres, blue plains, and
fearnoughts, &c., &c., as much as they will bear; that is to say,
all that the lead marks would allow to be added to the yards,
in the shape of one, two, or three quarters. But, much to
my surprise, we heard nothing from Mr. Riggs; perhaps,
because, if the whole truth came out, he would have the
laugh against him. Yet I may as well say here, that the
older I grow, the sorrier I am for all these transactions.
They were shameful, and quite of a piece with cheating at
cards, or selling your brother a horse with a glass eye, and
then bragging of it at the dinner-table.
Another incident occurs to me, where, instead of playing the
sharper myself, I had to deal with a sharper, who had been suc-
cessful with everybody else. A man, who kept a retail-store
near the head of Calvert Street, named Cyprian F. Wells,
bought a bill of me, for cash on delivery, amounting to five or
six hundred dollars. Contrary to my usual course, I did not .
send in the bill for about a week; when he put me off, and
this, day after day, till I was out of all patience with the fel-
low. Having sold for cash, I supposed I might reclaim the
goods, or take them with a writ of replevin ; but, after due
inquiry, found that he had me, and that I was only one of a
score he had swindled in the same way, within a few weeks.
I learned, also, that he was believed to be crazy — having
been at the battle of North Point - from which he ran away
in an agony of terror, gasping out, when questioned on the
road, “Oh, you've no conception! you've no conception ! ”
He was thought to be rather dangerous, too.
Nevertheless, I called upon him once more, and for the last
time; and, notwithstanding his indignation, succeeded in ob- ·
taining a check for the amount; assuring him, as I left the
store, that, if I did not find it good on presentation, he would
hear from me again; which he thought was adding insult to
robbery. But I had no occasion to call again. The check
was paid, though it left nothing over; and so was I.
Not long after this, a stranger came into my store, and
began overhauling our goods, but in such a way as to ex-
cite my suspicions. When he asked the price, he would
never look at the article, and always managed, as I remem-
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
157
bered after he had gone away, to keep between me and the
door, as if prepared to escape, at a moment's notice. After
he had been gone a few minutes, a neighbor, Mr. Sellers, came
in to see me; roaring with laughter, so that, for a while, he
could not make himself understood. At last, the matter was
explained. It seems that the stranger had mistaken me for
poor Wells; that, being curious to see how he would behave,
he had come into his store, as he believed, and soon satisfied
himself that he had never met with anybody, out of a lunatic
hospital, half so mad, or half so dangerous. By the merest
accident, Mr. Sellers happened to ask if Wells were still at
large, pointing across the street, to the shop he did business
in. This led to further explanation ; but the joke was too
good to be lost; and out of this trivial incident grew the
story that I myself was mad as a March hare. And for a
long while, after I began to write for the public, I was often
called “ Crazy Neal;” and there are thousands of people
now living, who could not be persuaded that I was not fairly
entitled to the appellation, though at times I may have been
quite rational since.
Another business incident, and I have done. At my first
arrival in Baltimore, I boarded with a Mrs. Ward in Calvert
Street. Among her boarders were a Mr. Smiley and a Mr.
Teneyck, from New Jersey. Smiley, who was a fresh-looking,
pleasant fellow, and a “man of family," as he called himself,
was after a store, with a view to the wholesale dry-goods
business. Teneyck had been associated with him before, in
some way. But a store was not to be had just then, and
goods were scarce. At last, Mr. Dennis A. Smith, cashier of
the Mechanics' Bank, a man of great wealth at the time,
and large views and liberal enterprise, determined to go into
the importing business, by way of starting Baltimore ahead
once more, and setting an example to others, who had allowed
the wholesale importing business to die out, of sheer inani-
tion. Having imported a large cargo of British manufactures,
they were offered for sale at auction, on six, twelve, and
eighteen months -- a credit unheard of, at the time. This
brought in the Western traders by scores and scores, prepared
to buy on the terms proposed, and then pay cash, and take the
discount.
158
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
One day, Smiley called on me with a proposition to indorse
his notes to Mr. Smith for whatever he might purchase, offer-
ing me the usual commissions. I refused without hesitation :
he persisted; and so did I. Nevertheless, he went to the
sale, and bought ten or twelve thousand dollars' worth of
goods, for which he promised to give my name. Of course,
I was indignant, and told him he must take the consequences.
I reminded him of our conversation, and of my positive
refusal. He had no excuse to offer, he said : he knew well,
that he had no right to offer my name; but having men-
tioned half a dozen others - retailers, and comparative stran-
gers, by the by, along Market -Street, all of whom had been
refused with a smile, for most of them were doing business in
a very small way — he finally gave my name. “What!” said
Mr. Smith, “ John Neal, of Calvert Street?” “ Yes.” —
“ Very well, sir, that paper will be satisfactory." — " And
now," added my enterprising gentleman, “if you refuse, I am
ruined for ever."
“And you deserve to be ruined for ever," said I, “ after
such a distinct refusal, and may get out of the scrape as you
got in, without my help. Why not go to Mayhew and Burt,
or some other commission house, and lodge the goods with
them? If they are well purchased, you will have no diffi-
culty.” — “Very true; but, then, what will Mr. Smith say?"
—“Say!-- nothing to your disadvantage, you may be sure,
if he takes their indorsement, instead of mine."
He then proposed to allow me double commissions, to store
the goods in my cellar, to sell nothing without my consent,
and to turn over the notes and cash, as fast as he received the
pay, so that I should run no risk, and would be always secure,
in any event. But no: I refused. My credit was good —
unbounded, I might say; yet, if my name were found upon
paper in the market, who would ever know for how much, or
under what circumstances, it had been issued, or that I was
secured ? No, no: I should be thought adventurous, and per-
haps rash; and my credit, if I should ever want credit for my
own purposes, would be swamped.
Whereupon, the gentleman left me, held a consultation with
my partners, and finally prevailed upon them to say yes.
The result was, that my name, not theirs, went upon Smiley's
well.
BUSINESS OPERATIONS CONTINUED.
159
paper: the goods were lodged in my cellar; and, for a week
or two, he went up and down all day long, with such custom-
ers as he could entrap, or make sure of, with his drag-net.
At the end of this time, pitying the poor fellow, with his large
family, six children and a wife, I called him into my counting-
room, and said, “Take away your goods : open a store in
Market Street, as you may now. You are welcome to the
commissions you were to pay. I shall charge you nothing for
my services; but, if any thing happens to you, promise to hold
me secure.”
The man was utterly overwhelmed. Tears filled his eyes;
he trembled from head to foot. Such a proposition was
wholly unexpected, and his protestations were all I could
lave desired. Within six months, he failed, paid nothing;
and when questioned about his business, and asked what
had become of all his goods, and where certain persons lived
to whom he had sold large amounts - he didn't know,
couldn't say: they had “happened in promiscuously," and
he had never seen them before, nor since. Nevertheless, the
fellow was discharged under the insolvent laws of Maryland;
then arrested for dealing in counterfeit money, tried and
acquitted, and was never heard of more. So much for
business -- the last I ever meddled with in copartnership.
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER XI.
LAW AND LITERATURE.
BREAKING UP AND SEPARATION; LAW STUDIES AT BALTIMORE; PROS-
PECTS; FIRST NEWSPAPER ESSAY; THE DELPHIANS; FIRST NOVEL;
OTHERS; RANGE OF STUDY FOR AN AMERICAN LAWYER; RETURN TO
PORTLAND, ME., AND SET MY TRAP AS A LAWYER.
We were all adrift now — Pierpont, Lord, and myself; my
two partners, with a large family each; and I, altogether
alone, or, as Coleridge would say, with that moaning cry
which, once heard, is heard for ever, as from a shipwrecked
sea-bird afloat with a broken wing, “ Alone, alone -- all, all
alone — alone on a wide, wide sea ; ” and all alike destitute
and helpless -- Pierpont wholly unfitted for business, Lord
whirling about in a deplorable eddy, from which it seemed quite
impossible to escape, and I desperate enough for any thing,
short of the highway.
As I have said before, Pierpont had been seriously think-
ing of the ministry, and had already committed himself to
Unitarianism, by appearing at a convocation of " Liberal
Christians," held one sabbath-day, in Poor & Co.'s large
auction-rooms, on South Charles - Street, where he led the
services in some way, as I understood at the time, although
he was of Orthodox parentage, and had sat for many years
under the battle-axe and catapulta demonstrations of Dr.
Lyman Beecher, of whom he always had the highest opinion,
as a controversialist; and, up to the time of his own change
of opinion, which others called apostasy, as a theologian.
But how was he to maintain himself? And how dispose of a
wife and three children? After consulting together, much as
so many shipwrecked mariners might be supposed to do,
upon a rock in mid-ocean, it was agreed between us, nem.
con., that he should send off his wife and children to Litch-
field, Conn., where his wife's mother lived on a family-
estate, which had been largely improved by the funds of the
LAW AND LITERATURE.
161
copartnership ; while he remained at Baltimore, in lodgings,
the cheapest he could manage to pay for — no matter how -
by pledging or selling what teaspoons he had left, as long as
they lasted. This plan was carried out; and he took a
chamber in North Howard-Street, where he remained till
he had brought forth the “ Airs of Palestine,” which he de-
livered before a gathering in Baltimore College, at the sugges-
tion of our friend, Dr. Watkins, whereby he obtained about
enough to take him to Cambridge, where after selling the copy-
right for a hundred dollars or so, he entered as a theological
student, and continued until he was wanted for actual ser-
vice; and soon after settled over the Hollis-street Church,
Boston, as the immediate successor of our celebrated Dr.
Holley.
I was to enter with Colonel Learned, as a student at law,
after winding up the retail-business, which I had re-entered
upon, at the desire of our assiguees, with all the cut stock of
our two wholesale jobbing establishments, and the remains of
our Charleston adventure. And this part of the programme
I carried out; entering Learned's office within two or three
months, until, having become acquainted with the late Gen-
eral Winder (William H.) at the Delphian Club, of which
we were both members, he made a proposition, which I ac-
cepted with great thankfulness; after which I studied under
his direction, till admitted to the bar, though always at my
own lodgings, about a mile from town. I had access to all
the best libraries, by common consent; and have to acknowl-
edge my obligations, not only to General Winder, but to
Professor Hoffman, Mr. Metcalf, William Gwynn, and
others, for their liberality and uninterrupted kindness to the
last, when I had got together a very handsome library of my
own, even for that part of the world, where they have always
been famous for their law libraries.
But as Mr. Lord “our Joe" — had no inclination for the
law, and less for the ministry, it was determined that he
should be left to shift for himself, being full of resources, and
especially given to shifts. Before a month had gone by,
after we had obtained our discharge under the insolvent laws
of Maryland, notwithstanding the most deadly opposition from
the house of George Grundy and Sons, who failed soon after
11
162
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
sending Mr. Pierpont to prison, as I told them they would,
and ought, although, at the time, they were supposed to be
almost beyond the reach of calamity, or accident, the father,
a most unrelenting old Scotchman, though otherwise well
enough disposed, never having been able to forgive Mr. Pier-
pont for the letters he took to him, when he first went to
Baltimore — before a mouth had gone by, as I was about to
say, “our Joe” had entered into three or four speculations —
only one of which proved disastrous, though all were, in my
judgment, both hazardous and questionable - whereby he
managed to keep his chin above water. At last, being tired
of adventure, he left Baltimore, went back to the neighbor-
hood of Boston, and took some kind of agency at Taunton,
where he remained till circumstances led him to New York ;
and there, after trying his hand at a variety of expedients, with
a correspondent success — now up, and now down — he com-
bined with two or three more long-headed, liberal, and saga-
cious business-men, and undertook to establish a new system
of mutual life-assurance — new, at any rate, in this country,
though a London loan-office had been established for several
years on a similar principle - that of lending to the assured
a part of the annual premium, or, in other words, giving
them credit for a part, upon the best and most available
security ; out of which sprang that wonder of modern com-
mercial finance, the Mutual-Benefit Life Insurance Company
of New Jersey, with its millions upon millions of capital, and
a business overspreading the whole country. In this, he
continued until his death, about a year ago ; having estab-
lished a most enviable reputation, and made himself a bene-
factor to his race.
Having entered as a student at law, the next question was,
How shall I support myself? I thought of the pen ; but
how could I hope to earn a living in that way? We had not
more than half a dozen authors; and of these, only Washing-
ton Irving had received more than enough to pay for the salt
in his porridge. And with our editors, it was yet worse.
Only two that I could hear of — Robert Walsh, Jr., Esq., the
“ American Gentleman," as he called himself; and Paul Allen,
editor, first of “ Bronsou's United States Gazette," and then of
the Baltimore “ Federal Republican ” — were employed and
LAW AND LITERATURE.
163
paid in that capacity. All the rest were proprietors, occasionals,
or supernumeraries, often government-officials, leading poli-
ticians, and statesmen, who were glad to “ work for nothing,
and find themselves," in that field. What chance had I then,
without experience, or with the little I am about to mention,
as a writer, and wholly ignorant of politics, beyond what I
had gathered from Aristotle and the “ Federalist," and having
no idea of the duties, responsibilities, or anxieties of an
editor ?
And inasmuch as the best of English books might be had
for the asking, after they were established in public favor,
and might be reproduced here from the printed page, with
much less delay, trouble, and expense, than from the plainest
manuscript - how hopeless for an American author, wholly
unknown, even at home, to think of earning a dollar, as a
bookwright! Nevertheless, I determined to try. I had
given up business: I had turned my back on all kinds of
copartnership, even that of an auctioneer, for which I think
now I was pre-eminently fitted ; and there was nothing left
for me but authorship, or starvation, if I persisted in my plan
of studying law, and maintaining inyself by my pen, although
it should be on potatos and salt.
And if my chances in the world of literature were dis-
couraging, they were really worse for me, in every way, as a
student at law. In the first place, I should have to study
four years, and then pass a terrible examination, before being
admitted to practice. In the next place, I had no education; į
having left school at the age of twelve, and gone behind a
counter, where my education was completed for life. Add to
all this, that I was a broken merchant, that I had failed in
business, that I was rather waspish, if not quarrelsome, and
that I was a native Yankee, never much of a recommenda-
tion at the South, and less at Baltimore, perhaps, than almost
any where else, Maryland being a border State, and the
people being fully persuaded that all eastward of them were
the true Yankees — dealers in cuckoo-locks, horn gun-flints,
and wooden-nutmegs; and to complete the catalogue of my
disqualifications for the Baltimore-bar, then the ablest of our
country, and by far the haughtiest, we had, for daily prac-
titioners, William Pinkney, William Wirt, Robert Goodloe
164
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Harper, Luther Martin, Roger B. Taney, Reverdy Johnson,
Charles A. Mayer, David Hoffman, William H. Winder,
Jonathan Meredith, and a score or two of others, well worth
mentioning, if this were a proper occasion. And then, too,
the “law's delay" — how utterly discouraging, both for
suitors and lawyers; even the plainest cases, if disputed,
being continued from term to term, and from year to year,
till they resembled bills in chancery, as they are continued
from generation to generation, over sea, where large estates
are in issue.
Supposing me, then, to have gone through with my course
of study - fed by the ravens, for at least four years — how
was I to get along for the next seven years, against such a
bar, and such a host of competitors, already established in
public favor, and well provided for, either by marriage or
otherwise ? Who would run the risk of retaining a stranger,
a new man, or even of employing him, while there were so
many older, in the field, with reputations at stake, who,
by their positions in the world, had given pledges for their
good behavior, and were not likely to abuse their trust, or to
run off with the funds of a client.
Nevertheless, as I have said before, I determined to perse-
vere; and I did. But how? In the first place, I began with
studying fourteen and sixteen hours a day; going through a
course of law, of metaphysics, languages, and literature; read-
ing history, both in French and English, and Political Econ-
omy, as Adam Smith himself, or Ricardo, would have advised
me to do; and then writing, as I shall mention hereafter, two
or three volumes a month of miscellany, for the papers and
the public.
To show that I was in downright earnest, let me mention
two or three facts here, leaving the details of my career, as an
author, to be set forth hereafter.
Soon after I had entered upon the study of law, and while
I. was in the habit of reading, upon the average, over three
hundred pages a day, and of carrying my books of reference
by the armful, to and fro, between my lodgings on Saratoga
Street, a long way out of town, and the libraries they belonged
to, my friend Pierpont — who had gone through a course of
lectures with Judges Reeves and Gould, in their celebrated
LAW AND LITERATURE.
165
law-school, at Litchfield, Conn., and who had made a beauti-
ful copy in four large volumes, with all their private notes
and memoranda, he being a favored pupil — said to me, one
day, that he had sold his copy for two hundred dollars to
a young Southerner, who had been two or three years at
Litchfield, and spent some thousands of dollars, and had noth-
ing to show for it.
“ You must read these lectures, John," said he, “before
they are sent away. They are a library of themselves; and,
if it were possible for you to copy them, they would save you
hundreds of dollars. But there! it's no use talking: they
will be wanted in a few weeks; and if you should be able to
read them in that time, it is all we can hope for now.”
“ How long would it take me to copy them, think you ?”
“Oh! I was fifteen months about it, working early and
late; and, if you had time, you would never have the pa-
tience.” And he believed what he said, for he did not then
know me; but I thought otherwise.
“ Well," said I, “if copying them is wholly out of the
question, there is, at least, one thing I can do. I can read
them carefully; and then, should there be any time left, I
can begin to copy them, at least.”
And so to work I went, and finished a thorough reading of
the whole within two weeks, at the furthest -- greatly to the
amazement of my friend, who, upon talking freely with me,
found that I knew as much of these four volumes, containing
over two thousand pages of manuscript, as he knew of Black-
stone, after reading all day long, from early dawn till it was
time to go to bed, in South Carolina, and achieving for once, one
hundred pages, the greatest day's work he ever did in his life, he
said ; while I could read three hundred pages a day, without
fatigue. And why? In the first place, I had been a great
reader from my earliest youth, and always read to myself,
without pronouncing the words"; while he read to himself, as
if reading aloud to others, and could not understand his author,
unless he did so. This I believe to be the essential difference
in our methods of study. How many persons have I seen,
who read so slowly and so thoughtfully, that they seemed to lose
the spirit of their author; while another - Judge Story, for
example — would run his eye down through the middle of a
166
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
page, and take in the whole drift, and almost the language, of
a law-case, without labor, and without danger of misappre-
hension. This I never did, nor ever attempted to do. Not
a word escaped me, not a passage did I ever slur over — not
a letter indeed; for an error in orthography, or in type, I
always detected, as quickly as the most careful and experienced
proof-reader. But this I'must acknowledge. As I began with
reading letter by letter, so I went on, reading syllables, then
words, and at last whole phrases at a glance, until I had
acquired a facility in serious reading, only to be matched by
that of the most thorough-going novel-reader.
Having worked my way through the whole four volumes
of manuscript, page by page, without slurring or skipping a
paragraph, I determined to try my hand at copying; and to
get as much out of it as I could, before it should be called
for — having no idea that I could finish the work in less than
a twelvemonth, although I was a very rapid writer, because
it needed to be carefully and plainly written, without flour-
ishes. With a view to compactness, I adopted a back hand,
which I wrote with uncommon facility and, I must say, with
marvellous distinctness. And so Mr. Pierpont himself thought;
for, in finding one of my pages equal to about one and a half
of his, and quite as easily read, though he was a beautiful
writer, he gave up his own style of penmanship and adopted
mine, which he continued to practise, until long after he entered
the ministry.
The first day, I wrote only five pages, though I did nothing
else, I believe; but the marginal references were abundant,
and my writing as clear as print - So everybody said at
the time, who had an opportunity of judging. But I perse-
vered, like Milo in carrying the calf, or as Winship does now,
in upheaving the foundations about him, until I wrote fifty
pages a day, with all the references and marginal notes, made
by Judges Reeves and Gould in the course of a long life ; both
eminent lawyers, and the latter among the best, if not in fact the
very best, special-pleader that ever lived, not excepting Saun-
ders himself; finishing the whole four volumes in seventy-
five days, and the last volume, containing about five hundred
pages, with a new and complete index, in ten days. From
this time forward, Mr. Pierpont never doubted my ability to
LAW AND LITERATURE.
167
carry through whatever I undertook, hit or miss; out of which
settled convictions grew other enterprises, of which I shall
have something to say hereafter.
About this time and this incident is the second which I
think may come in here to advantage, for the encouragement of
others, who may be called upon to make bricks without straw
- I achieved the following triumph.
Professor Hoffman - David Hoffman of the Maryland
University, one of the most amiable 'men I ever knew, and
one of the most learned jurisprudents, with a magnificent
library, which he opened to me without restriction, had just
brought out his “ Course of Legal Study," which, according
to his calculation, and he was one of the hardest students of
'our age, would require either five or seven years, I forget
which, for the long course, and about three years for the
shorter. Instead of being intimidated by this “Outline,"
as others were, who passed for diligent readers, about me,
I was seized with a vehement desire to read every book
mentioned by him, as fast as they could be had; for even he
had given the titles of some which I never met with, nor I
believe had he. Within the next following fifteen or sixteen
months, I had gone through with the whole course, reading
many of the books twice over; though a very few, not more
than a dozen perhaps, I was obliged to forego, for the reasons
above mentioned. About this time, Judge Story wrote a review
of the “ Course," which appeared in the “ North-American,"
declaring it by far the most comprehensive and satisfactory
system that had ever appeared; but insisting that seven
years would be required, seven years at least, to do it justice;
and he was undoubtedly one of the hardest students that ever
tunnelled his way into the profession. This only served to
set me going anew; and I never rested, until I had gone
through with the long course, and prepared a series of note-
books, after a plan suggested by the author, of the same size,
and so bound as to match the “ Law Lectures ” of Reeves and
Gould in four volumes, quarto. One was entitled - Uncom-
mon Titles, with Obita Dicta, Queries, Doubts, and Solutions ;”
a second, “Remarkable and Leading Cases ;” and a third,
“ Cases Denied, Doubted, and Modified" - containing more
cases, forty years ago, than were to be found in the latest
168
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
(D
edition of “ Greenleaf's Cases.” Nor was this all; for, in the
progress of my preliminary survey, I discovered that a mul-
titude of English statutes, aboriginal in their character, had
been recognized by solemn adjudication in our Maryland
courts, after the Declaration of Independence, though never
formally re-enacted; so that, in a certain sense, they consti-
tuted a part of our common-law. All these I abridged with
great care, and had them bound up to match the others; and
all these, too, I had carefully preserved, through all changes
and chances, up to the great fire of July, 1866, when they
disappeared for ever a library of themselves, together with
all that was left of what was one of the handsomest law-
libraries in this part of the country; to say nothing of rari-
ties and miscellanies, many of which, in different languages,
can never be replaced.
Aug. 13, 1867. - Another long interval; and, lo! I am
again at work upon this, my favorite occupation. The city is
going up silently about me, on every side, as to the rhythm of
inward, or far-off music from the sea, and my labors in that
direction are now over, I trust for life ; so that, for my re-
maining days, I shall have to depend upon my books and my
pen to keep me out of mischief. And for how long a time?
Who shall say? Who will hazard even a conjecture? This
very day, while the young and vigorous, and even the middle-
aged, are passing away, like shadows, from the great thorough-
fare of the world, now dwindling to a solitary footpath for the
few that are left, I met a woman already mentioned among
the earliest of these memoranda, Mrs. Abigail Horton, other-
wise called “Aunt Nabby,” now in her ninety-fifth year, and
looking as hearty and fresh as when she was thirty years
younger, so far as I can judge; and I have been in the habit
of seeing her, from year to year, almost ever since my return
from abroad. She was walking through the burnt-district,
for the first time since the fire, having with her a young
Quakeress, who called her mother, and who appeared to enjoy
lier companionship, as if they were both of an age. That
this mother in Israel enjoys life, nobody would think of
doubting; but, though willing to stay, she is equally willing
to go, if her heavenly Father calls her, and hopes he may
not allow her to become a burden to herself or to others.
09
LAW AND LITERATURE.
169
With sight and hearing about as good as ever, all her facul-
ties in a healthy condition, and her bodily strength undimin.
ished, why may she not expect to outlive another generation
of the enervated and self-abused of our day?
But let us return. I had now entered upon a new career
— with life or death before me — with little to encourage,
and more than would be thought possible now, to dishearten
me. I was now in my twenty-fourth year; and the better -
part of my life, I then thought, had been wasted. But I was
mistaken: I misunderstood the great problem before me; I
had always been at school, without knowing it; and, so far as
human nature is concerned, I do believe that I had learned
more behind the counter than I have ever learned since.
Among other things, I had learned to reverence myself - to
see that I was intended by my heavenly Father for some-
thing higher, and better, and more useful, than I had ever
thought of being, till I was a castaway, utterly shipwrecked,
and drifting I knew not whither. Not that, even yet, I had
any definite notions of what I was good for; but I felt that
my wings were moulting, and that, in time, if I did not belie
the promptings within me, I should most assuredly find out
what I was capable of, and what I was intended for. And I
now think I have, though rather late in the day. And yet,
who knows but the very hinderances I have met with were
in reality helps, without which I never should have been able
to do what I have done, be it little or much. To fail is often-
times better than to succeed: we may learn more by running
our heads against a stone-wall, than by missing it, and have
less to answer for. At any rate, I have; and am now able to
see, and willing to acknowledge, with profound thankfulness,
that my sorest disappointments at the time they happened,
and my heaviest misfortunes, have always turned out to be
my greatest blessings, wherever they were taken as admo-
nitions and warnings, and turned wisely to account.
But although I had entered upon the study of the law,
which would require at least four years' apprenticeship — for,
whatever were my qualifications, I could not be admitted in
less time--I had no means of support, visible or invisible.
True, I had been writing for the “Portico," a monthly at
first, and then a quarterly, carried on by the somewhat cele-
170
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
brated Dr. Tobias Watkins, Assistant Surgeon-General of the
United States Army, and afterward a Fourth-Auditor, if I do
not mistake; and then a prisoner to the unrelenting President
Jackson, as an alleged defaulter; but then, though I had writ-
ten what amounted to a good-sized volume, I had never
received the first farthing for iny labor. I had also written
occasional pages of poetry—and some of it was poetry - for
the “ Wanderer,” a weakly affair, which did not last above a
twelvemonth or so — at the same price; in fact, it was there
that I made my first appearance in print, “except as herein-
after excepted,” and, being very anonymous, had the pleasure
of seeing my verses attributed to the Rey. Mr. Duncan, a
favorite pupil of the celebrated Dr. Mason, of New York,
and just then, being newly established in Baltimore, carrying
the city by storm — the Presbyterian part of the population,
I slould say; for all who were not taken off their feet by his
originality and eloquence — they called it eloquence — be-
longed to another parish.
Allow me to suspend the narrative here, that I may intro-
duce a printed slip from the " Boston Centinel” (spelled with
a C), the first communication of mine that ever appeared in a
newspaper, barring an occasional advertisement, and a few
lines I once wrote for the “ Hallowell Gazette” in 1814.
Passing through Boston, I called on James Lee, my old com-
panion, and boyish antagonist; and, while sitting by a table in
his counting-room, my eye fell on a paragraph, taken from
the “National Intelligencer,” in which the writer maintained
that the words “put it in his pocket," which are found in one
of Hamlet's speeches, was a stage direction, which, by some
oversight, had crept into the text. I was indignant, and
threatened to write, and shame the fools; but never should
have done so, had not Lee asked me in all seriousness if I
thought Major Russell — the great gun of our New England
press at the time — would give it a birth? Of course, that
determined me; and I took up a pen and wrote the following
communication, which Lee, when I read it to him, only laughed
at — having known me from boyhood. This must have been in
1817, and -- judging by a date I find on the back of the printed
slip in the month of September, when I was entering my
twenty-fourth year. Rather late in life, it must be acknowl-
LAW AND LITERATURE.
171
edged, for a writer to begin his career. But, nevertheless,
having once entered this new field of labor, I determined
never to draw rein, till I bad accomplished my destiny; and I
have kept my promise.
“CRITICISM.
“ MR. RUSSELL, -- In your paper of the 13th of August, I
observe an extract from the National Intelligencer,' containing
a new reading of the mighty Shakspeare, by an admirer of his.
At first, sir, I believed it to be what there is but one word in our
language to express -- a hoax; and I laughed heartily. I have
been so long wearied with the stupid illustrations, and new
readings, of these admirers of Shakspeare, that I was delighted
with what I conceived this to be — an exquisite satire on
Johnson, Warburton, and others. I am one of those who will
. not allow the infallibility of Shakspeare; indeed, I go farther
than most men in my censures of his very best dramas. I
am one of those, sir, who will allow that while Shakspeare
traced his characters in light- omnipotent in his hours of
greatness — and alone in the delineation of motive; yet, that
every page is full of absurdity and extravagances, of a magni-
tude infinitely beyond the blunders of common minds. Shak-
speare is always a giant or a dwarf. And these extravagances
and absurdities are often unnecessary and unnatural; for none
will deny that even absurdity niay be natural, and extrava-
gance necessary to compose a part of one's character. While
I have believed all this, I have always said, Leave that man
alone in his simplicity. I do not like to see your oaks shorn
of their luxuriance, because they may not stand in a mathe-
matical attitude. I feel indignant, whenever I take up a
volume of the Bard, to observe the trumpery which dis-
figures it: not a page is free from the corruptions of these
commentators. Johnson and Warburton, and others of these
critics, would live by gathering samphire on the precipice.'
They have so completely encumbered the simplicity and
originality of Shakspeare - and these are, for ever, his dis-
tinguishing attributes — that, nine times out of ten, they force
us to reflect and to doubt of the meaning of passages, where
our very hearts would swell, if we heard them pronounced
172
. WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
in character, according to common usage. Nine times out of
ten, they overload him with rubbish, instead of chiselling a
bold relief, and darken him in the worst of eclipses, that of
learning, instead of aiding the reader to understand him in
the utmost extent of his simplicity. So had I at first read
this. I was delighted. Again I read it, and, to my astonish-
ment, I found this admirer of Shakspeare was serious. He
may be an admirer of that man, but he could never under-
stand him; he could only admire him because others admired
him, or he never wculd have put forth his hand to add a touch
to such a picture.
“ To every man who will read, in the independence of his
heart, it would be almost an insult to say, that the old reading
of a single line contains a whole biography in itself. Shak-
speare wrote and meant, and so would every other man mean,
if he should use the same words, whatever were his talents -
Shakspeare meant that the Usurper stole the diadem'— that
he did not conquer it — that he put it in his pocket, in the
meanness of one who had pilfered a treasure, like a shoplifter;
not with the towering intrepidity of one who places his dia-
dem on his brow, and bids the world contend for it.
“ So stood the old reading; and so it will stand till Shak-
speare burst from the fetters of his commentators, and stand,
with all his errors on his head, before a posterity who will
forget criticism, and appeal to feeling.
“Now, mark the improvement. Hamlet sees his father's
ghost- or supposes he sees it, which is the same thing; and
Shakspeare is supposed to have represented his hero at such
a fearful moment as having sufficient composure to put the
picture in his pocket, before he suffered himself to be startled !
Shakspeare might as well have set Hamlet to picking his
teeth.
U.”
An article, by the way, which, with a few trivial exceptions,
I should not be ashamed of now, after fifty years of experience
in the world of literature.
While debating this great question of bread-and-butter,
with myself, it occurred to me that I would try my hand at a
story, or novel, to begin with; and to work I went, in the
summer of 1816, when I was approaching my twenty-third
LAW AND LITERATURE.
173
LE
year, and soon brought forth a story in two volumes, which I
christened “ Judge not by First Appearances.” This title
was changed in the following winter to “Keep Cool,” which
appeared June 17, 1817; and then, before the people at
large had recovered from their astonishment, I gave them
the 6 American Revolution,” by Paul Allen ; 5 Niagara," -
“ Goldau," and other poems; “Otho," a tragedy; a volume w
or two of miscellaneous magazine and newspaper-essays; the
“ Index to Niles's Register;" 5 Logan," “ Seventy-six,” “Ran-
dolph,” and “Errata ;” and all this, be it remembered, while I
was writing voluminously for the Baltimore “Telegraph," and
preparing for admission to the bar.
And now, perhaps, it would not be amiss to give a little
idea of the marvellous rapidity — “the fatal facility," another
would call it, if he wrote slowly himself, or elaborately-..
with which I threw off these works.
“Logan," which re-appeared over sea in four volumes, I
wrote in six or eight weeks, ending Nor. 17, 1821; “ Ran-
dolph," published here in two volumes, I began Nov. 26,
1821, and finished in thirty-six days; “ Errata, or Will
Adams," in two volumes, was begun Jan. 8, 1822, and finished
in thirty-nine days; “ Seventy-Six," begun Feb. 16, 1822, and
finished March 19, 1822 — four days off - in twenty-seven
days, republished at London in three volumes : so that be-
tween October, 1821, and March, 1822, I wrote and pub-
lished no less than eight large duodecimos, which in England
would have been equal to thirteen volumes ; and this, while
pursuing my law studies, and writing for the “ Telegraph”
and the “ Portico." Further details are not needed here.
Suffice it to say, that I was soon in the receipt of a sufficient
income for my personal wants, which have always been
moderate, and for laying the foundations of a handsome
library; and that many of these works were under way at
the same time, while I was reading law at the rate of two
hundred pages a day, every day, Sundays and holidays not
excepted; and studying four or five languages, after a fashion
of my own, together with history, political-economy, and
metaphysics; my only amusement being such as I found in
my companionship with the Delphians, who met every Satur-
day evening, rain or shine, at each other's chambers, burrows,
174
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
offices, or houses, in rotation; there to eat bread and cheese,
and settle the affairs of the universe, in a committee of the
whole, never consisting of more than nine; we being the male
Muses of our day, and up to all that could rea-onably be
expected of ourselves, or our sisters; and all being, at last,
authors, and each in a way of his own, before the members
died off, and the club slowly evaporated.
The club originated with Dr. Tobias Watkins and Mr.
Pierpont, who had somehow got acquainted, through a sort
of Unitarian efflorescence, while the latter was debating with
himself whether “ To be, or not to be," which soon after struck
in; and the members, with their clubicular names, and titles,
and professorships, were — Dr. Tobias Watkins, as Pertinax
Particular, President; John Pierpont, as Hiero Heptaglott,
Vice-President; Dr. Readel, as Blearix von Crambograph,
Secretary, and professor of Crambography; William Gwinn,
as Odopæus Oligosticus, editor of the “Gazette,” and pro-
fessor of Impromptology; Paul Allen, editor of the “ Tele-
graph," alias Solomon Fitzquiz; William H. Winder,
alias Opechancough Soulikouqui; Breckenridge, alias Pere-
grine Bockinjoculus; and myself, otherwise called Jehu
O’Cataract. For many of these names, most of which were
eminently characteristic — and one, especially, so laughable in
itself, that I was obliged to adopt it for a title-page to
“Niagara," lest it should stick to me through life — we were
indebted to our Secretary, a fellow of "infinite jest," and over-
flowing with originality and whim; though two were chosen
by the parties themselves, that of General Winder in his
admiration for Opechancanough the Great, only two or three
years after the Bladensburg-races, and that of Breckenridge,
from a celebrated Indian chief he had somewhere known,
while preparing his “ Views of Louisiana.”
The President was indeed remarkable for his pertinacity,
and, I must add, for an excessive critical accuracy; Pierpont
was named Heptaglott, under an idea — far from being well
founded — that he was a great linguist, and well acquainted
with oriental literature, of which, by the way, he knew noth-
ing; Readel, the Secretary, was of German parentage, and
near-sighted, and full of quips and cranks ; hence he christ-
ened himself, Blearix von Crambograph; Gwinn was wonder-
LAW AND LITERATURE.
175
fully apt with epigrams, and puzzles, and newspaper-squibs,
and therefore it was, that our Secretary dubbed him Odopaus
Oligosticus ; Paul Allen, who had the gravest way of saying
the silliest things, and was a boru poet, and a most eloquent
writer, and always thinking of something else, and always a
little too late, was named Solomon Fitzquiz, and continued to
play up to the name as a sailor flings away his money, right
and left, to show that he isn't a land-lubber — long after he
had come to believe that we are not sent here to trifle with
ourselves, or others — except on special occasions; and I
was christened Jehu O'Cataract, because of my impetuosity,
and fiery temper, and Irish name. At different times, we
had two or three other members, whose clubicular names
have escaped me: an Englishman, named Dennison, a right
worthy gentleman, and fine scholar, who wrote wretched
doggerel, and published it as a sort of pasquinade, we
christened Precipitate Pasquin; another, Doctor Maculloch
- I believe he was a doctor — a man of sober, unpretending
talent, and excellent common-sense, who, with little or no
genius for whipped syllabub, was guilty now and then of
writing verses after the style of Sir Walter Scott, which ap-
peared in the “ Portico," with some of my emendations; while
another was Colonel Joseph D. Learned, (Surrogate Sacvert),
with whom I first entered as a student-at-law —an amiable
kind-hearted, shiftless, clever man, who was sadly perplexed
and bothered all his life through, and up to the very last, for
“presuming to be ambitious," as “ Robert Walsh, Jr., Esquire,"
the “ American Gentleman," used to say of Mr. Madison.
But the Delphians were a great help to one another; and
all to me, in a thousand ways. I have already given some
account of them, as debaters; but, as writers, they were all
more or less distinguished, even the nervous and excitable
Winder having managed to bring forth, and publish, in Paul
Allen's “ Journal of the Times," for which I also wrote pro-
fusely, a capital outline “ History of Maryland."
Was I overworking myself? I had no experience to
guide me, and no admonition or warning, to put me upon my
guard, until I pitched headlong out of my chair one night,
while occupied with “ Seventy-Six” or “ Logan," and some-
thing else, at the same time. Having satisfied myself, how-
176
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
ever, as I lay upon the floor, by feeling my pulse, the rhythm
of which the “healthful music” - was undisturberl, and
by touching my lips, upon which I found no froth nor foam,
that I had neither apoplexy nor epilepsy to fear, but syncope,
I made up my mind, then and there, before I got up, that I had
been abusing my trust, violating some natural law, and pre-
suming too much upon the strength of my natural constitution;
and that, after the active life I had always led, I was under-
taking too much; and, unless I went more into the open air,
and took more bodily exercise, I should never be able to reach
the point I was looking up to. As with me, it has always
been but a word and a blow —“decision following every
glance of thought, as the thunderbolt pursues the flash" - I
began riding, fencing, and sparring forthwith, and entered upon
a course of regular walking exercise, which I have continued
years, in one way and another, full two thousand miles a -
year, or one hundred thousand miles within that period. Most
of the time, my business, while building, or attending to my
professional affairs, obliged me to do more than this; for,
although I kept two horses for many a year, and sometimes
three, I never rode, except when I went out of town with
my family.
But, with all this, I never slackened my studies nor labors,
up to the time when I started away from the dinner-table of
my excellent friend, Henry Robinson, after we had been talk-
ing about the insolent reviewers over sea, who had thought
- proper to ask, “Who reads an American book ?” and to ad-
vise that we should “import our literature in bales and hogs-
heads ;” and hurried off to England by the next packet, there
i to answer the question, by “ carrying the war into Africa."
What others had done, I could do. And had not Sir Mat-
thew Hale begun the study of law even later in life than
I- at the age of twenty-six, if I do not mistake? And had
he not studied sixteen hours a day, without breaking down,
or outliving himself? Why, therefore, should I relax my
endeavors, at least so long as I slept well, had always a
reasonable appetite, and felt never the worse for my labors ?
But I overlooked the circumstance, that Sir Matthew Hale
had always been a student, instead of being an active man of
LAW AND LITERATURE.
177
business; having begun his career with a clergyman, and
then gone through the whole course of collegiate honors at
Oxford ; so that when he entered at Lincoln's Inn, which he
did before he had reached twenty-two, he was prepared even
for the study of law, as they studied it then, without books
and without lectures ; and having worn the heaviest armor in
his preliminary exercises, he was ready to throw it off, in the
great battle of life, like the young Spartans, when they found
themselves in the presence of the enemy.
Not so with me. For I had every thing to learn, and al-
most every thing to unlearn; and all at once. I had no time
for deliberation, hardly for experiment. In addition to which,
what was the course of study for Sir Matthew Hale, at the
time he entered the field, or that of any other English lawyer
from that day to this, compared with what I was obliged to
go through, if I ever hoped to reach the position I coveted ?
In England, a man is prepared for a department of law
only; and though he may read Coke upon Littleton, the Insti-
tutes, and Shepherd's Touchstone, and Fearne's Contingent
Remainders, and Executory Devises, and such light affairs,
for amusement, he is not called upon to study them, nor to
work out the problems they contain, as we do here, unless
to become a special-pleader, a conveyancer, or an equity-
draughtsman. While there, one is wholly confined to the
business of an attorney, or of a proctor in the ecclesiastical
courts, or in chancery, another is known only as a barrister,
and is never to be found intermeddling with his brethren
below, or poaching upon their grounds. The criminal-lawyer
is a criminal-lawyer, and nothing more. And he who goes
into the Admiralty-courts would be all at sea in the King's-
Bench, or Common-Pleas, just as Dr. Lushington would,
before the Lord Chancellor, or Sir Samuel Romilly at the
Quarter-Sessions.
And then, too, while the American lawyer is to be, at one
and the same time, a counsellor and attorney, a conveyancer
and advocate, with nobody to prepare his brief, or to look up
authorities, he must be ready to practise in all our courts,
from the highest to the lowest ; from the Supreme-Court of
the United States at Washington, down to the sixpenny magis-
trates and municipal authorities of the land ; in all the com-
12
178
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
mon-law courts — in Chancery, in Admiralty, in the Orphans'-
Court, or Probate-Court — and, in short, everywhere and
anywhere, at all times, at the beck and bidding of his client,
if that client be worth having, or worth keeping. Here,
it is unsafe for any man to be thought above his business;
and I have seen William Pinkney arguing a question before
a justice of the peace in Baltimore -- a question, to be sure,
which involved the rights of a wealthy corporation -- for a
whole day at a time; and the present Judge Clifford, one of
the associate justices of the United-States Supreme Bench,
elaborating a case before the municipal judge of Portland, as
if it were a question of life or death, where the fee was not
more than five dollars, perhaps not over three, and the matter
in dispute hardly worth mentioning; and this, after his return
from Mexico, where he had been our minister, and after he
had been the United-States Attorney-General. It was, in-
deed, not long before his translation to the bench of the
United-States Supreme-Court.
And then, too, just look at the course of study for an
American lawyer. In the first place, he must begin by
making himself acquainted with the whole body of English
law - with the whole system of procedure, and with all the
reports and elementary works. Not enough is it for him to
read Blackstone, and all his commentators; but he must be
familiar with the Common-law and with the Statute-law of
our mother country, they being the foundations of our whole
system of jurisprudence, however modified. And so with
Criminal-law, Chancery-law, Ecclesiastical-law, Mercantile-
law, Maritime-law — the American lawyer, practise where
he may out of a country village, needs to be familiar with all
these; in other words, he must begin where the English law-
yer leaves off. And, then, what next?
He must be well acquainted with the laws and decisions of
his own State, and of all the neighboring States, and suffi-
ciently so, to find what may be inquired for, in all the reports
of all the different States of our confederacy.
Nor is this all. He must have the statute laws of the
United States, and all the reported decisions of the Supreme-
Court, the Circuit-Courts, and the District-Courts, always
within reach, if not at his finger-ends. And then, having a
LAW AND LITERATURE.
179
French and Spanish population along our frontiers, and a peo-
ple at New Orleans and Florida and Texas, where the Code
Napoléon is always of paramount authority, and Spanish law is
continually coming up, he must be well acquainted with the
French and Spanish languages, and with the Institutes of
Justinian, and the Pandects — if not with the great body of
Roman or Civil-law, that being the foundation of Spanish
and French lawas with Pothier and Grotius, and Vattel and
Montesquieu, and Burlamaqui and Beccaria. Or, if he ven-
tures into one of our large cities, and flings down his glove
there, with a generous and lofty purpose, he may find himself
at the mercy of accident; and, instead of being prepared for
everybody and every thing, as every assailant or interloper
must, he may be driven to the wall by the first whipper-
snapper he ventures to cross rapiers with. It was so with
William Wirt, as he himself acknowledges. For want of
knowing what everybody else knew -- the merest pettifoggers
of the day he found himself, like the Santissima Trinidad,
besieged by cockboats; or, like poor Gulliver, when the Lilli-
putians beset him in swarms, and fastened him to the ground,
with pins and horse-hair.
But I need not dwell upon these considerations; for, not-
withstanding my discouragements, I went through my course
of study, as no other student ever did, so far as I know or
believe; reading, within the four years of probation, more law
than all the students about me; and enough, I am satisfied, to
make it appear wonderful, even to such hard workers as
David Hoffman himself, that I could have done what I did in
less than twelve or fifteen years, even if I did nothing else
during that time, and studied nothing else, instead of being
obliged to earn a livelihood with my pen, while living from
hand to mouth, to go through a course of general reading, in
history and science, and to study languages by the half dozen.
Being admitted, I went into a very respectable practice, -
within the next following twelvemonth; and in time, if I had
not gone abroad, might have secured a position well worth
having. But, as it was, I never made much of a figure at the
bar, and have not, since my return to this country, owing to
reasons which I hope to set forth hereafter. But I stood well
as a lawyer, with the best lawyers I knew; and the papers I
180
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
· wrote, while studying with General Winder, on Capital Pun-
ishment, on Lotteries, on Imprisonment for Debt (growing
out of the persecution of my dear old friend, Pierpont, by the
unrelenting Grundys), on Mr. Taylor's - Junius Identified,"
on the Bankrupt-Laws, and on the great case of Sturgis v.
Crowninshield, which overthrew, at one fell swoop our whole
system of State insolvent-law — all of which appeared in the
Baltimore papers, and most of them in the “Telegraph” — not
only attracted the attention of leading minds throughout the
country, but led to my editorial engagements, and to com-
parative independence, long before I had been admitted.
One of these papers - on Bills of Credit, wherein I under-
took to show, and did show most conclusively, in the judgment
of William Pinkney himself, that all our banks were uncon-
stitutional brought me a proposition from a Mr. Harris,
President of the United States Branch-Bank of Baltimore, to
bring the question at issue before the Supreme-Court of the
United-States, for which I might depend on being hand-
somely compensated, for Mr. Pinkney had been consulted,
and had declared that the argument was unanswerable ; but
that he who should undertake to carry the question before
the Supreme-Court “would bring an old house about his
ears."
Unluckily for me, I was only a student-at-law; and yet
more unluckily, the letter was left on General Winder's table
when I was away, and I never saw it, nor heard of it, until
many months had gone by, and I found it one day all covered
with dust, and when I was but just entering upon the great
field of controversy, which I have continued to occupy from
that day to this.
And here I may be permitted to add, perhaps, that the
positions I took against Chief-Justice Marshall, in the case
of Crowninshield, were fully justified by subsequent decisions
of the Supreme-Court; although, at the time, I stood alone, I
believe, in maintaining, as I did, that it mattered not whether
the insolvent laws of the several States were constitutional or
unconstitutional ; they constituted a part of every contract made
while they were in existence, and were operative, as much
as if they had been expressly incorporated therein; and all
discharges, therefore, by State authority were couclusive, and
LAW AND LITERATURE.
181
could not be questioned. And so, too, with my views of capital-
punishment, and especially of public executions ; of imprison-
ment for debt, of lotteries, and of our militia-system — great
changes soon followed, and most of them, in such a shape, and
under such circumstances, as to prove, beyond all question,
that the papers I published in the Baltimore “ Telegraph”
had fruited abundantly, but slowly, and sometimes after a
long interval; my first case, Heirs of Chirac v. Reinicker,
reported by Wheaton, for which I received a retainer of ten
dollars, having yielded five hundred dollars, after my return
from abroad.
But I must bring this chapter to an end. On going away
from Baltimore, I had no idea of abandoning the law, nor of
being away more than a twelvemonth or so. I left my library,
somewhat large for a beginner, and well chosen, and in the
best possible condition, with a young man who had studied
with me, and of whom I had the highest hopes. But he died
suddenly, and my books and furniture went up into a neigh-
boring loft; and when I returned to this country, instead of
going back to Baltimore, as I intended, my friends there hav-
ing advised me to go to New-Orleans, or Philadelphia, or
even to New York, the business of Baltimore having fallen
off so much, and every thing, as they thought, then being
dependent upon the result of the Baltimore and Ohio Rail-
road, I ordered my furniture and library to New-York; and
there should have settled for life, perhaps, had not my other
friends at Portland undertaken to say, while I was there on a
visit—and a visit only, to my poor mother and sister — that com
I should not be allowed to remain there; and that, if I did, I
should never be admitted to the bar.
This determined me; and though, at the time, I had no
idea of settling for life in Portland, I lost no'time in securing
an office; two, I might say, — though I began with taking
one, and had no idea of trying two, until my late uncle, James
Neal, who happened to be passing by, while I was negotiating
with the proprietor, Mr. James Deering, on being appealed to
by that gentleman, assured him that I wouldn't have business
enough to pay for my fire-wood; when I settled the question
by saying at once, “Mr. Deering, I'll take both rooms ;” and
lost no time in getting established.
182
WÁNDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
In the business of my profession, I continued, without de-
voting myself wholly to it — for want of clients mainly
until about the year 1840, when I withdrew altogether, and
have been my own man ever since. Hereafter, I may recur
to this portion of my life, and give satisfactory reasons for
not having been more distinguished -I might say, for
being so little distinguished, that my friend, the Hon. William
Willis, who published, not many years ago, a history of the
Cumberland Bar, absolutely forgot to mention my name, as he
did that of somebody else, I forget whom, just now; though I
believe it was Mr. Justice Ware, of the United-States Dis-
trict Court, who really deserved to be counted in among the
foremost lawyers of Cumberland — I might say of New-
England. Randolph A. L. Codman was another of these
omissions, I am told.
LITERARY GROWTH.
183
CHAPTER XII.
LITERARY GROWTH: SPROUTING, FLOWER AND
FRUITAGE.
BUDDING EFFLORESCENCE; MR. PIERPONT'S NOTIONS; “NIAGARA" AND
" GOLDAU;" REVIEW OF BYRON'S WORKS; MORE ABOUT MY FIRST
NOVEL; HOW IT WAS RECEIVED.
· August 17, 1867.—“Once more into the breach, dear
friends — once more!”
Although addicted to pretty tough story-telling, from my
earliest recollection, and quite in the way of inventing and
combining, for the amusement of my school-fellows, at the age
of eight or ten, I never undertook to tell a story, on paper,
till I had come to years of discretion.
My first efforts in the way of authorship, as with most of
our ambitious youngsters, I dare say, were downright imita-
tions -- and imitations, too, not of prose, but of poetry; and
the very first was an acrostic, which, somehow or other,
never got beyond the first line, and which, to my unspeakable
regret, I have wholly forgotten. I was wretchedly in love
with a girl somewhat older than myself, who went to the
same school, and sat opposite me, when I was between ten
and eleven, to the best of my recollection and belief. Her
name was Lucy; and, having achieved the first line, I was in
labor with the second for I know not how long a time, nor
whether it kept me awake or not. I only know that I could
remember but one word in the English language that began
with u; and that was Uncle. I never thought of looking into
the dictionary; and there I stuck -- and there I have contin-
ued to stick, to this day; never having finished that acrostic,
nor attempted another. In fact, I am rather inclined to
believe that my horror of acrostics, and my hatred of sonnets,
for their-family likeness to acrostics, may be owing to my
pitiable failure in this my first attempt upon poor Lucy.
184
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Some years after this, being at home, on a visit from Ports-
mouth, where I was then living, I tried my hand, in a small
way, upon something funny, which, I am happy to say, has
utterly' faded from my recollection. It was original, that I
am sure of; and the versification was good: but the drollery
was what I think I should now be inclined to cry over, if it
were to rise up in judgment against me.
My next effort was in the epitaph line; and as it seemed
quite successful, though not very ambitious, being a combina-
tion of the grotesque and the pathetic, and meant to be funny,
or only half-serious at best, I think it worth remembering.
A pet robin had been throttled by a tom-cat in our boarding-
house, at Portsmouth, N.H.; and to assuage the sorrow of a
fine, free-spirited girl the boarders were all in love with, two
of us were chosen to write an epitaph, or what was then
called “ a pair of varses." And a “pair of varses ” we did
make of ourselves, that's a fact. My associate was named
Langdon. We separated for the day; and when we met
again, to compare notes, Langdon insisted on hearing mine,
first. I consented; and he was so delighted, poor fellow, that
he hadn't the courage to read his own aloud; and to this hour
I have no idea how much better it was than mine; though,
between ourselves, it could not well have been worse. There
were, I believe, a dozen lines to answer for; but of these I
remember only the following:-
“On angel-finger, taper, small, and neat,
Roost pretty robin, and forget thy pain,
Thy little cage, grimalkin's velvet feet,
And sweetly slumbering, visit us again!"
Of course, I said feet, be-cause I couldn't find a rhyme for
claws; though now it comes to me of itself, as you see.
After this, I hung up my fiddle: enough had I accom-
plished to satisfy others, though not myself, that I only wanted
opportunity and encouragement, to become reasonably famous
in the epitaph-line. And who knows but I might, long before
this, if pussy-cats and robin red-breasts had continued to solicit
my attention ? But I never tried my hand at another, until
about the year 1850, when I wrote some lines for the memo-
rial of Mrs. Osgood, which I have an idea are to be found
LITERARY GROWTH.
185
on her monument in Greenwood cemetery. That they are a
considerable. improvement upon my first essay, I think will
be acknowledged, when it is remembered that only about half
a century had intervened; the first lines being written in
1812, when I was in my nineteenth year, and the last in 1850,
when I was in my fifty-seventh. Let no man be discouraged,
therefore, though he may have begun with acrostics, and
failed, or finished with an epitaph, when it would have been
better if he had failed; for, at the end of half a hundred, or a
hundred years, who knows what he may be capable of? The
lines for Mrs. Osgood's monument were
“Sister, we bring to thee
Fruitage and bloom,
While the birds sing to thee,
Over thy tomb.
Emblems are these of thy
Ripeness and sweetness, .
Born of the upper sky,
Glory and fleetness.
In the still waters here,
Imaged we see,
Where they are bright and clear,
Pictures of thee."
In the fall and winter of 1814–15, I had another paroxysm.
I was at Hallowell, teaching penmanship and drawing; and
happened to board with a Mr. Palmer, whose wife had a
pretty niece named Olivia T., whom I had met with at Exe-
ter, N.H., about a twelvemonth before, and fallen head-over-
heels in love with. It seemed to me in all seriousness, when
I found myself in her company away Down-East, after I had
given her up, and had not the least idea of ever seeing her
again, that Providence must have something in view, by bring-
ing us together again ; she as trig, and sprightly, and as full
of mischief as ever, and I altogether more of a man, and not
afraid of saying, if I should be driven to such necessity, that
my soul was my own, without gasping for breath, however it
might be with my heart. I had met her in mid-winter at
Waterville, and did not then know that she had relations in
Hallowell, or that Mrs. Palmer was her aunt. When that
186
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
dear good woman told me -- after hearing of our acquaintance
at Exeter and Waterville - that she had been obliged to put
me into Olivia's bed, or bed-chamber, I forget which, I was
half beside myself with a sort of reverent joy, a solemn seuse
of I knew not what, but something as if she had been com-
mitted to my charge, in her untroubled innocence, and that,
happen what might, I should be answerable for her safe-keep-
ing. Not that she was expected home, not that I was likely
to see her at Hallowell -- for I was only a bird of passage
myself -- a buzzard, if you will, at the time — but, then,
wasn't I in her sleeping-chamber, in her very bed, and
wouldn't something naturally be expected of me, and some-
thing out of the common way? How could I reconcile it to
my conscience, to forego such an opportunity ?
And so I went to work, and dreamed a dream. “I saw a
hand you cannot see; I heard a voice you cannot hear;”.
and the next morning, by peep of day, I had written, I know
not how many verses about Olivia, containing an account of
my dream. The two last lines were sufficiently lugubrious
and emphatic for one who had been murdering in his sleep, to
say nothing of what he did after he was awake.
CD
“Methought by me Olivia bled;
Methought by me she died!”
Not long after this, I made my first experiment in prose. I
had been writing letters all my life long, and, I have no doubt,
owe much of the astonishing facility that others wonder at, to
this habit of talking on paper ; but, then, I had never written
a piece, never what is called a composition. But one sabbath-
morning, in the midst of an excited political canvass, when
everybody seemed rushing into print, a fellow-boarder, named
Aldrich, came into my room, and proposed to unite with me
in preparing an article for the “ Hallowell Gazette." I said
yes, with the single qualification, that he should furnish one
article, and I another, and each for himself, without suggestion,
or help from the other.
Both were written and sent; and mine appeared in the
next paper, though his, I believe, did not. Mine was suffi-
ciently absurd, I must acknowledge, for I did not understand
my subject, nor what was wanted; but his, if the truth must
187
be told, was yet worse. I remember something I said about
a candidate, and his bolting from the course; but nothing
more. But it was my first essay, and it satisfied me, that
anybody who wrote English - as well as many who did not,
and do not, even to this day — might find his way into the
newspapers.
From this time forward, I wrote nothing — not a word, not
a syllable — for the printers, - until after we were established
in Baltimore, when, having become acquainted with a set of
handsome, clever, and very pleasant young women, with some-
thing of a literary taste, it was proposed by one of their num-
ber, a Miss Maria C., to form a club, and furnish weekly, each
in turn, a paper upon any subject we chose, to be read at our
meetings.
Out of these grew some prose sketches, and half a dozen
poems, which appeared in the “ Wanderer," a very weakly
periodical, then just emerging from the chrysalis; and the
“ Portico," which I have already had occasion to speak of.
The ice was now broken. I had appeared in print, and the
people about me knew it. Of course, much was expected of
me – too much, indeed, by my friends and associates. And
one day, being at my desk in the retail-establishment I have
mentioned, my friend Pierpont, who had begun to have
strange notions of my poetical power, owing to a revelation I
had most unexpectedly made, brought me a newspaper, con-
taining an account of the destruction of Shane Castle, in Ire-
land, the seat of the O'Neals, by fire, and begged me to try
my hand on that catastrophie, for the “ Portico." “ With all
my heart,” said I; and, before he left me, I wrote a poem of
thirty-two lines, which appeared in the next number of the
“ Portico," together with another “to Genius ;” both over the
signature A. (one of a score that I used in the “Portico"),
which led some capital judges (of signatures) to assign all
these papers to Paul Allen, just then at the zenith of his
meridian glory:
This was in 1816, when I was in my twenty-third year;
and a brief passage or two will show something of what
passed then, and very justly I think, for the true ore of
poetry, though it needed smelting and purifying, and not a
little hammering.
188
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
“Farewell, silent Erin !- farewell to thy glory!
It has leaped from thine altar, the watch-towers of Shane,
While the Spirit of song, and the Genius of story,
Stood watching thee, star of their hearts! in thy wane.
The pride and the strength of whole ages shall weep thee,
For the suns of whole ages have hallowed thy pile,
Farewell, lonely sentry of Freedom! gu sleep thee,
With the bones of our monarchs, the lights of our isle,'' &c., &c.
6 Go sleep thee!” indeed. How strange that neither my
friend Pierpont, nor my friend Watkins, the editor, should
have made no complaint, suggested no change, in that vile,
ungrammatical phrase. But both were blinded in their ad-
miration of what they called my genius.
And here I may as well introduce what I have already
alluded to in a late paragraph, that my friend Pierpont may
not be wholly without excuse, for entertaining such extrava-
gant notions of his junior-partner.
One day, while he was in travail with the “ Airs of Pales-
tine," I dropped in to see him, in the midst of his throes,
and found him reading a new poem which had just appeared,
Shelley's “Revolt of Islam.” “There," said he, "just read
that, and tell me what you think of it.” I ran my eye over
the passage, and was about to reply, when he said, " Read it
aloud, John.” I had never done such a thing in my life. I
had certainly never read a page of any thing that resembled
poetry to another person ; but I was in no humor for ac-
knowledging the truth, and so I went at it, and after reading
awhile, stopped. “Go on," said he, “ go on;" and I did go
on, till I had finished the whole poem. When I had finished,
he drew a long breath, and, laying his hand on my arm, said,
“ John, you are a poet!” I said nothing; for what could I
say? I knew that I read as I felt, and therefore, I suppose,
naturally; but that I was a poet, or that my reading another's
poetry, under any circumstances, would show the fact, any
more than reading a song would show that I was a musician,
had never entered my head. Nevertheless, my dear friend
was right; and I say now, that although most poets play the
mischief with poetry, even their own — where the poetry
does not play the mischief with them -- whenever they
undertake to read it aloud, either by chanting, after the
manner of Coleridge, or by sacrificing the rhyme, and making
LITERARY GROWTH.
189
prose of the finest passages, or with sing-song, "two up and two
down,” like Latinists in scanning, yet, after all, none but a true
poet can ever read true poetry. All others are as much out
of their proper sphere, as a man would be, who should under-
take to play the great Haarlem organ, as Handel did, with legs
and arms all abroad, though wholly unacquainted with music.
" Can't you play ?” said a fiddler to a fellow who had been
watching him for a long while from the corner. “ Don't
know," said the other : “never tried; but jess give us hold,
and we'll see.” And just so is it with most readers of
poetry; being themselves prosaic, they have no idea that a
poem is a musical instrument, on which no man ever played,
without lielp, until he had learned the fingering.
Not long after this, being about to visit Philadelphia, he
said to me, “ John, you write poetry: I know you do.” At
this time he had never seen a syllable of mine, to justify the
charge; nor had any one else, out of the circle I lave men-
tioned, where we used to read our communications. I could
not "deny the soft impeachment ;” and, after blushing and
stammering - I mean just what I say “I owned up to a sort
of cominou-place-book, which I put into his hands on board
the boat, just as we parted; and which he handed back to
me on his return, literally with tears in his eyes, saying,
“ Well, John, what did I tell you?” And then he said, sub-
stantially, something like this — for the fragments he had
been overhauling, were fragmenis only, and never intended
for another's eye — "Notwithstanding your extravagance,
that little memorandum-book is full of strange and beautiful
thought, and full of originality; in a word, of poetry.”
And this opinion he confirmed long afterward, when the
evidence he gave that he meant all he said, was of a nature
so unquestionable, that no human being would ever think of
doubting his honesty, any more than I did his judgment and
tastr; and I may as well introduce it here.
The “ Battle of Niagara” and “Goldau” were both writ-
ten at his suggestion; and both were published without his
knowledge, while he was at Harvard, preparing for the minis-
try. “Niagara” he never saw, until I sent him the book;
and “ Goldau” he had only seen, after I had written the first
two or three hundred lines, which I threw off in less than
forty-eight hours, according to my present recollection.
190
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Of course, when it appeared, without a hint or intimation,
either from me, or from anybody else -- for it was printed in
the “Portico ” office, while the proprietor, Dr. Watkins, was
away on a tour of inspection - it took him altogether by
surprise.
After reading it, he sat down, it seems, and wrote a letter
to his wife; and then, all at once, it occurred to him that he
would copy what he had written to her about “Niagara," and
send it to me. This, he lost no time in doing. I have his
letter now before me. It runs thus, and is postmarked
Sept. 9, 1818:-
“Oh! I had nearly forgotten to tell you that Neal has
published a volume of poetry. It contains two poems of con-
siderable length: one entitled “ Battle of Niagara,” founded
upon the battle that was fought during the late war, just by
the Falls of Niagara, called the battle of Lundy's Lane; the
other named “Goldau,” founded on a scene that took place
among the mountains of Switzerland, which is more particu-
larly stated in the little biographical sketch prefixed to Mr.
Buckminster's sermons. The poems are both very great,
admirable, astonishing, indeed. He has thrown his whole
character into them; and either of them contains more of
the greatness and madness of poetry than any other poem
that was ever written in America. True, they have great
defects, of which I think their not unfrequent obscurities are
the most conspicuous. But all the defects are more than a
thousand times counterbalanced by the beauties. There are
some inaccuracies, but they are nothing to the splendor,
beauty, and grandeur of the great body of the poems. They
will do him immortal honor, in my humble opinion. He does
not publish in his real name, but under his club name of
“Jehu O’Cataract,” which, for his “ Battle of Niagara," is
peculiarly appropriate. I have many apprehensions that the
book will suffer in the opinion of the public, merely from
the circumstance of having that name, which has so much
the air of burlesque attached to it. For there are, as may be
found in all his poetry, many passages, in which it might
be difficult to tell, except from the context, whether it were
burlesque or sublimity; and should the reader, after having
read the name on the title-page, happen to open upon one of
LITERARY GROWTH.
191
his extravagances, he would take it all for the labor of a
lunatic, and throw it by. But the man who has a soul for
poetry, and will take it and treat it as it deserves, will be
treated in his turn with such poetry as has not heretofore
been written in this country; by such poetry, I mean dis-
tinctly, that the poetry is better, more grand, sublime, and
original, than any other American poetry. The · Airs of
Palestine,' as a whole poem, is more correct, and more
harmonious; more polished in the structure of the verse, but
immeasurably more tame” –
And then he adds, "My dear John, — I had proceeded
thus far on the last page of a letter to my wife of this date,
when, stopping at tame, to take a new penful of ink, the idea
popped into my head that I should like to have. Mary show
Neal that part of the letter, should he happen at Litchfield ;
because, being written without any idea of his ever seeing it,
there could be no doubt in his mind as to the honesty of the
criticism. The next idea was, that, although I had not got to
a real stop, I would nevertheless stop just there, and copy
it into the next letter I wrote to you. So, that I might send
the letter to my wife by next mail, I took the sheet and
copied it immediately, word for word, and letter for letter,
and comma for comma, and score for score. I had even writ-
ten their' for the,' as you see above in her letter, and made
unintentionally the same mistake in copying,” &c., &c.
At the same time, he sent me a most enthusiastic and
gratifying critique on the volume, by the Rev. Mr. Gilman,
afterwards settled in Charleston, S.C., which appeared in
Major Russell's paper, the “ Centinel.” “But, in my opinion,"
he adds, after praising the criticism heartily enough to show
a just appreciation of the author, “he ought to have given
you as decided a preference to Gray, as he has to Thomson
and Scott. My opinion of the book is briefly this: that no
English poet has, within the same compass, so much poetry;
nay, that no man now alive has written so much good poetry
as that book contains. Now you know what I think of you.
Pity me, if you please, and petition the legislature for a
guardian, or the managers of the Pennsylvania-Hospital for
lodgings; but that is my opinion of Jehu O’Cataract's
poems."
(D
192
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
About this time, while the newspapers were ringing the
changes upon “ Goldau” and “Niagara," Paul Allen came
out in all seriousness, and yet more extravagantly, by far, than
Mr. Pierpont; and though he called it “a swash of magnifi-
cence" in the “Journal of the Times," and said it was not
always easy to determine whether I was laughing at the
reader, or only letting off the fireworks of a new empyrean,
or something of the sort, still it was what we had long been
waiting for, a poem full of originality, and strength and beauty.
I do not pretend to give the language, but the substance of
his testimony, abundantly confirming that of Mr. Pierpont.
And it should be remeinbered, that both of these men had some-
thing at stake in the way of reputation ; for Pierpont was then
acknowledged, by common consent, for the leading poet of
America; and Allen had been declared by Mr. Jefferson him-
self, after the publication of “ Lewis and Clark's Tour,"
which he prepared for the press, to be the very best of our
American writers. His “ Noah” had not then been pub-
lished.
One more incident, and I have done with this part of my
story. Not long after the appearance of my poems, I wrote
something — I forget what, “ Ambition” perhaps — which led
Mr. Pierpont to say, in so many words, that he should give up
the writing of poetry, and never write any more; since what
with him was labor, to me was mere play. And he kept his
promise, notwithstanding all my remonstrances and expostu-
lations, for, I should think, twenty-five or thirty years. If
that simple fact does not go far to prove his sincerity — to
say nothing of his infatuation, or hallucination - I should be
glad to know what would. At this time, however, he could
not have written bis “E pluribus Unum ;” nor the lines
about Garrison, where he talks about “the torch, the torrent
of the mob.”
Meanwhile -- to return - meanwhile, I had betaken my-
self to prose, after a similar fashion; and was beginning to
write for the papers. But stay: it can do no harm, I think,
and it may do some good, for me to be more particular just
here in the details of my progress in authorship, from the
earliest sprouting to the ultimate fruiting, such as it was,
and is.
LITERARY GROWTH.
193
One evening, while we were all together at the club, talk-
ing about the business and the news of the day, the President,
Dr. Watkins, turned toward Mr. Pierpont, and begged him
to write a review of Byron, whose “ Childe Harold” had just
appeared, and who was then at the very zenith of his glory.
Mr. Pierpont laughed, and shook his head, but did not posi-
tively refuse; for the “Portico".needed help, and any thing,
in his way, he would have been glad to contribute. Watkins,
however, did not so understand him. I knew that, and, fore-
seeing what was likely to happen, pitied both. At our next
meeting, Watkins renewed the subject, and went so far as to
say that Pierpont had promised — or, at any rate, that he had
so understood him; and that he had depended upon the
article, and was greatly disappointed. To prevent all farther
misconception, Mr. Pierpont said positively that a review was
not in his line: he had never written one, in all his life, and
probably never should; and therefore the proposition, though
sufficiently flattering, was respectfully declined. Seeing that
both were a little embarrassed, or flurried, and very unwilling
that such men should so misunderstand each other, as I knew
they would, if left to themselves, I offered to write the review -
myself. Never shall I forget the expression of poor Watkins's
countenance. Pierpont said nothing; and the other members
of the club seemed to take it for a capital joke. This made
me quite serious; and I renewed the proposition, which, of
course, under the circumstances, could not well be refused;
for, after all, what risk was there on the part of the editor ?
If the review didu't suit him, couldn't he throw it into the fire,
or mislay it, or crowd it out, or postpone it indefinitely; or
overlay it, as other editors often do, with his own every-day
notions? I saw by his look, that, although he thought me
capable of almost any thing in the way of presumption, if not
of achievement, he was not prepared for any thing quite so
preposterous, as for a young man, of twenty-three — for I was
really very young of my age, or I should not have dared to
attempt such a thing — without a name, and without educa-
tion, to review the works of Lord Byron, just when the
whole country was in a blaze with them; and to do this in
such a publication as the “ Portico," a monthly journal, then
just beginning to make a noise in the world. And this I
18
194
WANDERING. RECOLLECTIONS.
told him, not long after the review appeared; but he always
maintained that I had misunderstood the expression of his
handsome countenance, for he had never entertained a doubt
of my being able to do whatever I undertook. But I knew
better : he may have deceived himself; but he did not deceive
me; for there was no mistaking the signs of astonishment
I saw, when I succeeded in making him understand that I
was in downright earnest, and not to be trifled with.
Having taken up the glove, I lost: no time in getting to
work. Within the next following four days, I had gone
through with the whole body of Byron's works, and written
V about one hundred and fifty pagesi of manuscript, which I
handed to Mr. Pierpont, on his calling to ask me when I
proposed to begin the review. After glancing over a few
pages, he insisted on my reading it to him: I consented; but,
long before I had finished, he seemed to have an idea that
there was some kind of a hoax at the bottom; but when I
had got through, and assured him in all seriousness, that
I had never written a line, till I had finished reading all the
poems he had lent me, including the third canto of “ Childe
Harold,” he urged me to publish what I had written, just as.
it stood. This I would not consent to do; the manuscript
being, in my own judgment, atrocious, and much of it having
been scribbled with one hand, while I was holding the book
with the other, and copying at arm's length. And then, too,
though I had never rewritten any thing but my verses, I felt
assured, that, in going over what I had occasion to say, I
should be able to improve it. He shook his head, I remem-
ber, and seemed rather unwilling to trust me. But I perse-
vered; and within twenty-four hours, according to my present
recollection, I had completed what I meant for one article,
having no idea how much manuscript went to an octavo page
of the “ Portico, and supposing it would all appear in 'one
number. Instead of this, it made fifty-five printed pages,
and was continued through five or six numbers. I have not
read a line of it, from that day to this — more than fifty
years; but, on looking over it just now, I must acknowledge
that I do not feel ashamed of my work. On the contrary, I
am rather astonished at myself; the opinions I expressed
being such as I entertain at this moment, and the language
LITERARY GROWTH.
195
about as well fitted to the subject, as any thing I have written
since. The selections, too, were pre-eminently characteristic
of Byron, and, I might say, of myself, and such as I am
willing to abide by, for the justification of all I said of that
wilful, wayward inan, who persisted in sacrificing himself, or
rather in throwing himself away, lest he might be overlooked,
or forgotten, if he did not keep the whole reading-world in a
perpetual feese, and fidget, and flutter.
I was now fairly launched; and continued writing for the
6 Portico," without pay, from June, 1816, to June, 1818,
when, having overloaded it with a ponderous essay on “ Free
Agency” — to say nothing of other articles, amounting to
one-third of the whole, when it had been changed to a quar-
terly, or three-decker - it went to the bottom, where it has
been lying ever since, like the British frigate and her golden
treasure, at Hellgate, or the Narrows, waiting for a new appli-
cation of the diving-bell.
It was a melancholy affair, though, that foundering of the
66 Portico ;” but, after all, it was no fault of mine. The doc-
tor had gone the whole length of his tether, without counting
the cost. He had collected his subscriptions in advance, and
was over head-and-ears in debt; and, having applied for the
benefit of the insolvent laws of Maryland, was in no condition
for a further outlay. He had been ordered off on a tour of
inspection along the frontiers, and called on me, just before he
left us, to say that he must rely on me to carry this quarterly
number through the press; the last, perhaps, that would ever
appear, unless the masonic fraternity - of which he was the
head and front, and with whom he was so pre-eminently
popular that nothing he could say or do, was ever able to
shake their faith in him, or their love - should bestir them-
selves for his relief. “All the copy was given out, and in the
bands of the printer; and all I should have to do," he said,
with a seriousness not to be questioned, “would be to correct
the press, and, perhaps, write a few paragraphs to fill up with.”
And here we separated ; - he giving himself no further trouble
about the business; and I going to work, under a belief that
I had little or nothing to do, out of the routine I had estab-
lished for myself. But, alas! I soon found, on looking over
the copy, that I should have to write perhaps one-half of the
196
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
vody.
whole number; and this, too, when I was getting up “Niagara,".
a novel or two, and occasional newspaper-articles, to say
nothing of law, languages, and metaphysics. But having
undertaken the job, and the reputation of the editor being
dependent upon the issue, I persevered ; and accomplished
my purpose, to the unspeakable relief of that amiable and
excellent man, who soon after returned, to give the Delphians
a magnificent supper, the wines and venison for which, and
the canvass-backs, were furnished by a brother-mason, who
had been his largest creditor, when he was set free by the
insolvent-law, about a month before. But I am rupning
ahead of my story.
Having been well received in the “ Portico” — So well,
indeed, that the editor showed me two or three letters upon
the subject of my papers, declaring, as he did so, that all
the best articles were attributed to me, and, among them, one
from his brother-in-law, Simpson, of Philadelphia, the editor.
of a paper there, and a famous critic, who wrote to say that
he had just been satisfying some of the learned Thebaps, or
Athenians rather, of that glorious region -- that the papers
on Byron, which were signed A., had been written by Dr.
Watkins himself, as anybody might know, from the internal evi-
dence ; though the Philadelphians, who were very proud of
Paul Allen as an early editor of “ Bronson's United States
Gazette," and the compiler of “ Lewis and Clark's Tour," were
maintaining, tooth and nail, that nobody living could write
such wonderful criticisms, but Paul Allen (perhaps these
genilemen found the “internal evidence” in the signature I
adopted for that particular series — a capital A., and nothing
more): Having been well received in the “ Portico ” — what
a period !—I now began to cast about for something better to
do — something, at least, which would pay better; and, after
- considering the matter for ten minutes or so, determined to
try my hand at a novel.
And forthwith to work I went, and soon produced a story
in two volumes, with a preposterous title, “ Judge not from
First Appearances.” Oddly enough, somebody, a woman,
has just taken the same tiile, “ Judge Not,” which, to say
the least of it, is a far better title than mine. I committed
it to the care of Mr. Pierpont, who was then hard at work
LITERARY GROWTH.
197
for the ministry, in Cambridge. He tried two or three
of the leading Boston publishers, who fought shy, so that we
didn't even get a " glorious nibble" — much less a bite ;
although our hooks were baited with a dragon's tail,” like
those that were used by the giant, who “sat on a rock and
bobbed for whale." And the result was, that I took home the
manuscript, and re-wrote the whole ; changing the title to
“ Keep Cool," and trying to be funny — very funny. A pur- -
chaser was entrapped - Mr. Cushing, of Baltimore — who,
on having it read to him by my friend Watkins, offered me
two hundred dollars for the copyright, which, of course, I
jumped at, like a cock at a gooseberry. It seems a pitiful
sum now for an American novel ; but then, it was something
handsome, since he could have the best English novels, in
print, for nothing; and Charles Brockden Brown, whose mar-
vellous parodies of Godwin were exceedingly popular, got
even less for “Ormond,” “ Wieland,” and “Edgar Huntley,"
though portions of them were not only astonishing for their
strength and beauty, and dramatic power, but for their origi-
nality; and, in my judgment, were superior to Godwin him-
self, and even to “ Caleb Williams."
In writing this story, I had two objects in view: one was –
to discourage duelling; and another was -- I forget what. I
only know that, inasmuch as it had become a settled fashion
to head the chapters of a story with quotations, like those of
Sir Walter Scott, which had seldom any thing to do with the
subject, I sat down and wrote several pages of dislocated and
fantastic verses, which I handed to the printer, with general
directions to divide the chapters, according to his own good
pleasure, and to prefix the mottoes, without any regard to
their applicability, hit or miss; all which he did ; so that no
wonder people could never quite satisfy themselves that I was
not making fun of the reader.
One thing more I did, which I have just happened to re-
member. I was tired to death of titles, and especially of
Esquires and Honorables, and had quite made up my mind
never to give any countryman of mine a title of honor; nor
ever to say the Honorable Court, or your Honors, even to the
Chief Justice of the Supreme-Court of the United States,
though willing enough to give titles of office to anybody and
.
198
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
everybody - a course I have persisted in for half a century;
though, of late, I must acknowlege, that I have begun to relax,
and relent, and, within the last six months, to say Esquire,
and Honorable in my letters, &c., as, on the whole, somewhat
easier than to give my reasons for not doing so.
At this time, too, my friend Pierpont had just issued his
“Airs of Palestine,” with a handsomely engraved title-page,
whereon he appeared as “John Pierpont, Esquire.” This I
could not stomach, and so “ Keep Cool” appeared, as if writ-
ten by 6 Himself, Esquire."
Yet more. The reviewers were having the field all to
themselves about this time. Authors were nowhere. And so
I prefaced my book with a review, somewhat after the fashion
of the day, beginning with "America was discovered in 1492,
by Christopher Columbus, &c., &c., which, on the whole,
was, I think, a very fair hit.
As for the characters, the situations, and the incidents gen-
erally of this, my first novel, I have to say that I think
them worthy of great praise; the story itself dramatic, and
earnest and plausible, and the language far beyoud the trash
of the hour; but, then, the jokes, the pleasantries — they are,
according to my present recollection, and I must confess that
I have not courage enough to look at them again, both tire-
some and silly. The hero is driven to the field, as he thinks,
and as others in the fiery atmosphere of Baltimore then
thought, by sheer necessiiy. He was obliged to fight, or be
disgraced for ever. And having fought, and having vindicated
his manhood, under the greatest provocations, by leaving his
adversary on the field, from which he never rose again, he
goes forth a broken-hearted man, to sorrow and lament, in
sackcloth and ashes, for the remainder of his life, that he
yielded so much to the evil customs of society, instead of out-
braving the worst, and bearing, as a christian gentleman, what
only christian gentlemen can ever be expected to bear. Stay :
I have just opened the book to verify a date, June 27, 1817,
when it was published, and I find that “ Percy” did not die on
the field, but after there had been a reconciliation with “ Sid-
ney."
And here I am reminded of an amusing incident or two
which occurred at the time of publication. Our friend
LITERARY GROWTH.
199
Watkins, whom we had nicknamed Pertinax Particular, was
a man so fond of paradox and contradiction, that, sooner tban
agree with anybody, he would say any thing, and so earnestly
and vehemently, as to satisfy most people that he meant what
he said ; and if, in the progress of inquiry, his antagonist
showed any sign of yielding, he would slip over to the other
side, as if to show him how good a case might be made for
him, with a little patience and ingenuity. In sketching the
character of“ Echo," if I must acknowledge the truth, and own
up, I had one of my own leading characteristics in view, ás
I thought. Nevertheless, our friend Watkins went so far as
to adopt the whole character, saying it was intended for him ;
and, on the whole, was good enough to be handsomely acknowl-
edged. And yet, as I live, I had never thought of the man,
while portraying the individual he referred to.
Another incident, worth mentioning, perhaps, just here,
was this. I had been to visit my mother; and after passing
through Litchfield, where I managed to fall desperately in
love with a Miss L., had reached New Haven, on my way to
Baltimore, and had turned in at a very early hour, that my
meditations upon the delightful young woman I have men-
tioned might be undisturbed — a mere school-girl, at the time,
who boarded at Mrs. Lord's, the mother of Mrs. Pierpont -
under an agreement I had made long before, that if ever I
went to Litchtield, and they would put up with me, I would
put up with them.
After being in bed an hour or two, I was waked by a seri-
ous altercation going on in a further corner of the large hall
we occupied, between two young men, collegians perhaps,
who were criticising a new book, just out, they said. Occa-
sionally, they would rip out an oath; and then there would be
a hearty laugh, and then a growl. I began to have my mis-
givings — to understand what a poor fellow says in the play,
“I knew they were talking about me, for they laughed con-
sumedly.” At last the question was settled. “What the
plague does he mean by this, hey?" said the man who
held the book, and was reading it by a vile smoky lamp, with
his shirt-sleeves rolled up, and one leg in the air. “ Anguil-
lam cauda tenes - You hold a snake by the tail. Pshaw!-
dare say he thinks that very fine, or he would n't have
200
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
crowded it into the title-page; but what does it signify ?”
6 Very true," said I to myself; “and if you had the least idea
of what a joke was there hidden, you wouldn't wonder.
Suppose you translate it, “You hold an eel by the tail :'
don't you catch the idea ?” But how could I explain it,
without betraying the author ? I could not; and so I turned
over, and went to sleep.
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED.
201
CHAPTER XIII.
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED
“ JUNIUS NOT IDENTIFIED;" "ALLEN'S REVOLUTION;" PAUL ALLEN AND
DR. WATKINS; HEZEKIAH NILES AND THE INDEX TO HIS REGISTER;
CRITICISMS OF THE DAY.
Sept. 2, 1867.— I find, on referring to letters, incidents, and
memoranda widely scattered, that I wrote for Paul Allen's
- Journal of the Times” — also without pay - from its com-
mencement, in September, 1818, until it died of sheer inani-
tion. Among the papers I contributed was a review of
6 Junius Identified,” in which I undertook to show that Mr.
Taylor had not succeeded in establishing the identity of Sir
Philip Francis with Junius; and that, by his own showing,
if the facts and circumstances were all as he had stated, they
were capable of another explanation. The paper was written
for the club, and being well received, just when Mr. Taylor's
book was convincing everybody, Allen claimed it for the
6 Journal,” where it appeared, week after week, overloaded
with the most extraordinary typographical blunders ; for, as
usual, I never saw the proofs. It was almost a book of itself;
and, though it was entitled “ Junius not Identified,” I relied
wholly upon Mr. Taylor for my facts. Nor did I undertake
to show that Sir Philip Francis was not Junius, only that
Mr. Taylor had failed to show that he was Junius.
Meanwhile, I had been betrayed into writing a part of
“ Allen's History of the American Revolution" - two vol-
umes octavo — under the following strange circumstances.
Allen, though decidedly a man of genius, and a charming,
though exuberant writer, full of warmth and earnestness, and
at times exceedingly eloquent, had a miserable habit of procras-
tination, which kept him always under whip and spur. Ten
or fifteen years before I knew him, he had acquired such a
glorious reputation, as the very best of our writers, that a man
202
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
by the name of Hopkins, who went about the country, year
after year, selling razor-strops of his own contrivance (the
very man referred to in Chapter VII.), until he was thought to
have made a fortune, took it into his head to obtain subscrip-
tions for a “ History of the American Revolution, in two vol-
umes octavo, by Paul Allen, Esq.;" having secured Allen, as
he believed, by a conditional promise, dependent upon the
subscriptions, at five dollars each, and having furnished him,
year after year, with revolutionary documents, orderly books,
and letters from all parts of the country, East, West, North,
and South. At last, in the spring of 1818, he had obtained
over fifteen thousand of the best names in the country; and
as they were beginning to die off, or tò vanish from the places
that had once known them, he concluded it was time to have
the manuscript, upon which Allen had been laboring for so
many years, as he believed, put into the hands of a printer.
But Allen, when applied to, kept putting him off — now, with
assurances that it would soon be ready; and now, that he was
going all over it again, supplying omissions, correcting the
errors and oversights, and verifying certain disputed occur-
rences. Hopkins began to be troubled at last, and finally, in
a fit of desperation, called on our friend Watkins, and asked
his advice. Watkins, being himself a terrible procrastinator,
(
suspicion of the truth, and suggested to Hopkins, that per-
haps friend Allen had not got so far along as he wished, and
to be done? The subscription was dying out; and the razor-
strop man was alniost afraid to show his face, in large por-
tions of the country, where he had been in the habit of
assuring the statesmen, lawgivers, and politicians of the land,
year after year, that the book was almost ready for the press,
and then, that it was going through the press at a hand-
gallop.
On the whole, therefore, he determined to have another
interview with Allen, and insist on seeing, with his own eyes,
just how much had been accomplished. But Allen was not
to be headed off in this way: he fired up, and threatened to
destroy all he had written, and return all the boxes of revo-"
lutionary-papers to the owners, if he was to be baited and
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED.
203
badgered after this fashion. What did they take him for ?
Did they suppose a History of the American Revolution
could be thrown off, like a daily newspaper? Hopkins apolo-
gized, and explained, and finally succeeded in pacifying the
strange man, who, in the course of their conversation, had
suggested — as they were in so great a hurry to secure the old
subscriptions — that Hopkins had better engage somebody else
- Dr. Watkins, or Mr. Pierpont — to lend a hand in the
work, and help finish it off. Hopkins snapped at the idea, and
reported the whole conversation to the doctor, saying that,
upon his soul, le did not believe Allen had written more than
half the work; and that, of course, if it were so, years might
go by, before it would be ready for the printer. Watkins
thought he must be mistaken ; that Allen could never be so
greatly self-deceived; and, on the whole, had no doubt that
full three-quarters, or at least two-thirds, must be done.
After this, they had a consultation with Mr. Pierpont, who
would not listen to a proposition. History was altogether out
of his line; as much so, to say the least of it, as reviewing;
but he suggested his friend Neal, saying that, if I could be
persuaded to undertake it, he would answer for me. Per-
suaded !-- persuade a drowning man to snatch at a straw, or
a hungry man to open his mouth widely! I wanted precious
little persuasion, you may be sure; and Watkins having cor-
roborated all that Pierpont said of me, and Allen having
assented with his whole heart, I agreed to write whatever
might be required, in copartnership with Watkins, at one
dollar the printed page. But how much was there to be
done? That was the first question to be settled; and I ven-
tured to suggest - knowing Allen as I did — that if a quarter
part were written, and ready for the press, I should be aston-
ished. They desired me to see for myself, and ascertain how
the land lay. It was rather a delicate affair to manage ; but
I lost no time for I had none to lose -- in bringing our
friend Paul to close-quarters. After a long and very pleas-
ant conversation, in which he professed himself delighted and
unspeakably relieved by the arrangement, he owned up. So
far from having written three-quarters, or one-half, or even -
one-quarter, he had not written a single page — not even a
line!
204
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
When I reported the result, the parties looked at each
other, as if they durst not believe their own ears. What
was to be done ? Should they throw the subscription-books
into the fire, and leave Paul Allen to his fate; or get up the
two volumes without his help? In the midst of their trouble
and embarrassment, I proposed to go to Cambridge, to read
every thing that had been written about the Revolution -
together with Professor Ebeling's library, then just received
at Harvard -- and complete the two volumes in twelve months
at furthest, and perhaps in six. This proposition staggered
them ; but, on the whole, it was finally arranged that Wat-
kins and I should go to work in partnership, at once, and
bring forth the work, with Allen's adoption, as fast as we
could drive it through the press. At the desire of my asso-
ciate, I began with the Declaration of Independence; and
wrote in the course of two months, or less, enough to make
about one volume, reading the while whatever I had not read
before, including Marshal, Ramsay, Gordon, and others; and,
having deposited the manuscript with my coadjutor, started
off on a trip to Portland, leaving him to correct the proofs.
But, alas ! they were so shamefully misprinted, and so
crowded with blunders, often making nonsense of the finest
passages, that, although at first, I was indignant at his having
suppressed so large a portion of what I had written, I soon
became reconciled to the disappointment, much as I wanted
the money, when I considered how much more I might have
had to answer for. I had furnished what would have made
about six hundred pages ; but my friend, the doctor, only
published about three hundred and fifty ; that is, from the
Declaration of Independence to the end of the first volume,
having himself written all that could be got into the book
about the same transactions. He professed to be delighted
with what I had done, and particularly with the opening, which,
sooth to say, was rather above the dead level of historical
composition ; but, being paid by the page, of course it would
be pleasanter for him to have his own manuscript used. And,
of course, I had nothing to say. The work appeared within
the time agreed upon, having a few lines from Allen by way
of introduction; all that he ever wrote of “ Allen's famous
American Revolution.”
a
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED.
205
And here an amusing incident comes up in this connection,
which will bear narrating. One day, about the year 1823,
while I was living in London, “ I happened in,” as we Yankees
would say, at Mr. Miller's bookstore, where the American
papers were always lying on a table for the entertainment
of his friends. He was the first publisher of Washington
Irving's “Sketch-Book," and of Cooper's novels; and was
called the American-bookseller, though an Englishman, be-
cause he had republished these American books.
While running my eye over the columns of a Boston
paper, it lighted on a'long article, headed “ Battle of the
Brandywine," an American story. I began reading some of
the extracts; and, after a few moments, I said to myself,
“ Hang the fellow! he is a plagiarist ; he is imitating me.”
And then I read on, for two or three paragraphs, without a
suspicion of the truth, and must acknowledge that I felt
inclined to compliment the author for his warmth and earnest-
ness, and almost for his originality, until I came upon the
names of Archibald Oadley and somebody else, when I found
that the extracts were all from my story of “ Seventy-Six."
But why not say so? why call it the “ Battle of Brandy-
wine”?
Years after this, I met with another long extract from that
part of Allen's History which had been written by me, accom-
panied by remarks which went to show that the writer had
some object in view which I did not understand.
At last, after another year or two, the mystery was ex-
plained. Not long after my return to my native town, I
received a letter from a Mr. Hill -— Frederick Hill, if I may
trust my memory — saying that he was on the stage, and
wanted to appear in Portland. That I might know whom
I had to deal with, he said that he had formerly been the
editor of a Boston paper-I forget which -- and that seeing
mo and my books abused in about all the newspapers of the
country, and often by those who did not appear to be
acquainted with my writings, or myself, he determined to
test the question. And, with that view, he gave a series of
extracts, oftentimes of two or three columns, from different
books of mine, to which he gave new titles. And these
extracts, he told me, went through the whole country, like a
206
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
prairie fire, and were copied and praised, from Dan to Beer-
sheba. Of the whole, however, being abroad at the time, I
had only seen the two I have mentioned. Wasn't it a neat
trick, and somewhat conclusive upon my critics?
And here it may not be out of place for me to give a slight
off-hand sketch of these two individuals — Allen and Wat-
kins - each remarkable in his way, and wholly unlike in the
constitution of their minds, as in their habits and pursuits.
In one thing only were they alike. Neither could be per-
suaded to do any thing to-day, which might be put off 'til!
to-morrow; a weakness which, in the end, proved fatal to
both. Forty years ago, I gave in “Randolph” portraitures of
these two individuals, which, as they were painted while
we were on the most familiar terms, and they were sitting to
me day after day, I have no doubt were truthful and exact;
but I dare not reler to them now, choosing to trust to my
recollections, without help, in all such matters, and wishing
to give my present impressions, without reference to the past.
Paul Allen was a Rhode Islander, born, if I do not mis-
take, in Providence. At an early period, he took to writing;
and step by step — I know not how, for I never questioned
him about his early life, and he was not of a communicative
disposition -- he managed to climb into the editorial chair of
6 Bronson's United States Gazette,” which was then reckoned.
among the ablest journals of the country. The reputation he
gained there, led to his being employed as the editor and
compiler of “Lewis and Clark's Tour;” and then, to his being
engaged, it was hoped for life, as editor of the “.Federal
Republican and Baltimore Telegraph," immediately after
the great Baltimore mob, where General Lingan was mur-
dered, and where Professor Hoffman would have been strung
up, without judge or jury, on a tree-branch, yet overhang-
ing Jones's Falls, but for the providential interference of a
stranger, who satisfied the murderers that they had got hold
of the wrong man.
Alexander Hanson, the predecessor of Allen, had narrowly
escaped with his life, and was in no condition for renewing
his editorial labors, after the outrages he endured in the
defence of his printing-establishment; and so Allen was en-
listed -- one of the kindest-hearted men that ever breathed,
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED.
207
and wholly unfitted for the editorial duties of such a paper
as the “Federal Republican," at such a time, when the whole
country was in commotion, and no neutrals were permitted to
breathe in Baltimore; as timid and shy as a woman, and,
like Oliver Goldsmith, whom he resembled in many other
particulars, wholly unacquainted with the world, though he
wrote fiercely, and seemed to invite a renewal of the outrage,
day after day, and month after month.
When he wrote “ Noah," I do not now remember. It was
submitted to me in manuscript long before he would consent
to publish even the small portion I thought so well of as to
say, that, old-fashioned as it was, and entirely out of place
among the new lights of our day, Scott and Byron and
Shelley, the sooner he had it off his hands, the better. It
had grown musty, and smelt of the dead past, too decidedly
not to need airing. And so about one-third of it was pub-
lished, only to be overlooked by those who had the highest
expectations, and the greatest reverence for the man himself.
After this, he left the “ Telegraph," and established the
“ Journal of the Times ;” and that falling through at the
end of a year, a new daily paper was set up, with capital
furnished by one of his young, enthusiastic admirers from
Virginia, which continued, I know not how long, under his
supervision — gasping and asthmatic to the last, with occa-
sional paroxysms, which threatened a still speedier dissolu-
tion, till it gave up the ghost.
At the time I knew Paul Allen, he must have been about
forty or forty-five; a small man, stooping in his yait, near-
sighted, and slovenly both in his habits and dress; resembling
Oliver Goldsmith so much in his ignorance of the world, that
I never could look at him in our club, after we christened
him Solomon Fitzquiz, without thinking of poor Oliver,
sitting up in a high chair — so high that he could not touch
the floor with his feet -- and listening to the talk of Sir
Joshua, and Burke, and others of that stripe, for hours to-
· gether, without once opening his mouth.
Watkins, on the contrary, was a man of the world. Born,
I believe, on the eastern shore of Maryland, he had managed
to run through a handsome estate, long before he had found
out what he was good for, when he married a daughter of
208
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
George Simpson, cashier of the old United-States Bauk at
Philadelphia, entered upon his profession as a surgeon, re-
moved to Baltimore, becanie a leader of the masons there -
I might say the leader, for when I knew him, he was on the
topmost round of the ladder — got an appointment as an
assistant surgeon-general in the United States army, estab-
lished a medical monthly, and then the “ Portico ;” and after
a long and patient struggle, which continued for many years,
found himself utterly ruined — shipwrecked and beggared,
poor fellow ! — with a large family of promising children upon
his hands, and a wife such as few men are ever happy enough
to meet with, in this world. Out of compassion, chiefly —
though his scholarship and talents were generally ac-,
knowledged, and his literary reputation was only second to
that of “ Robert Walsh, Jr., Esq., the American Gentle-
man” — he received an appointment from Mr. J. Q. Adams,
that of Secretary to the Spanish-Commission, who must have
understood his character, and where the danger lay; for he
said to him, “ Dr. Watkins, the salary is two thousand dol-
lars: there are no perquisites."
Not long after this, I saw him at Washington, and found
him keeping a carriage. When I remonstrated with him, as
I had done more than once at Baltimore, with some advantage,
I trust, to his family, he answered, “ Why, my dear fellow !
you don't understand our usages here. It would cost me five
dollars a day for coach-hire; and my carriage not only saves
me this, but occasionally earns me something for my family."
Of course, knowing the man as I did, it were preposterous to
question him farther, and so I held my peace; but I could
not help recalling a similar answer he had given me in Balti-
more, when I asked him why he did not take a lower rent for
his family, as he had no practice to trouble him, and was
living in one of the handsomest houses, and in one of the
most aristocratic streets, of the town. “Why, bless your
heart !” said he, “the government allows me for office-hire;
and so, you see, it brings down my rent to what I can afford.” .
As if the office-hire would not have been continued, had he
taken a house for half the money he was then paying. I did
not then know, by the way, though I soon had occasion to
know, that he owed rent for several years to his landlord,
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED.
209
and had not paid him a cent for nobody knows how long; and
that, when he set off on his inspection-tour, leaving me to
carry the “ Portico” through the press, with not more than
half copy enough, he had l'eft his dear family - and no man
had ever more love for children and wife than he had, or
greater reason for it — liable to be turned into the street,
bag and baggage, by the exasperated landlord, whom he had
promised to pay off, before he went away.
With such habits, being both generous and extravagant-
a man who would sooner empty his pockets into the lap of a
stranger, than pay his butcher or grocer — he was always
laboring under embarrassment, up to the day of his death.
But his last days were, indeed, his best days. After the clos-
ing up of the Spanish-Commission, President Adams gave
him the appointment of Auditor — Fourth Auditor, if I do not
mistake - in the Treasury department; Watkins having
written much and well in favor of Adams, when he was one
of the five candidates for the Presidential chair. When
Jackson was elected, there was diligent inquisition made,
without loss of time, into the accounts of all who had been
busy with politics and electioneering. Defaulters were
found in every department; and, among them, our friend
Watkins, for a small amount, not over two or three thousand
dollars, if my memory serves me. Whereupon, the general
turned him out of office, had him pursued at law, obtained
judgment, and sent him to jail, where he was confined for a
long time - I know not how long with a sign over the
door, ordered by Jackson himself, to “feed fat his ancient
grudge,” whereon was inscribed not « Debtor's Apartment,
but « Criminal's Apartment.” Was there ever any thing
more characteristic of that wilful, unforgiving, inexorable
man, who was made President by the war-cry, or war-
whoop rather, of “Hurrah for Jackson !” being literally
hurrahed into the chair.
The personal appearance of Watkins was very much in
his favor. Above the middling stature, well-proportioned,
with great dignity of carriage, and a captivating warmth of
manner, which I think Sheridan himself might have thought
desirable, when he had to do with importunate creditors, and
wanted to fob them off, without losing their good opinion, he
210
: WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS:
was, with all his faults, a universal favorite. With a fresh,
handsome countenance, a clear dark-blue eye, and a pleasant
smile, he was just the man to make a favorable impression
upon the multitude, and especially upon strangers.
• But, as I have said before, his last days were his best days.
In fact, after his liberation from the criminal's apartment, I
have reason to believe that he became a changed man, heart
and soul. At any rate, I do know that he deserved to rank
with christian heroes, if not with martyrs. The last time I
saw him, he was keeping a common school, in an old tumble-
down brick building, one of a large block, in Alexandria;
and though evidently impoverished, and well stricken in
years, and more serious than I had ever seen him, he ap-
peared to be both submissive and resigned, uttering no word
of complaint or reproach, and looking as if, though ready to
go, if called for, he was not weary of life, nor in any hurry
for the translation.
Hereafter, when it comes in my way, I hope to give a
sketch of Winder, Gwinn, Readel, and others who belonged
to our club of Delphians; for, after all, it is to them, and to
that association, that I am indebted for the best part of my
doings, and a large portion of the happiness I enjoyed at the
South. High-minded, generous, unselfish men, they were both
intellectual and companionable, indulgent, and, with all their
whims and freaks, original, and clearly stamped with the
idiosyncrasies that distinguish one superior man from an-
other.
By this time, I had acquired a reputation worth having —
at least, for taking bulls by the horns -- for energy, prompti-
tude, and faithfulness. My next enterprise of a literary
nature was the following. Mr. Hezekiah Niles, editor and
proprietor of " Niles' Register," as he called it, for the same
excellent reason, perhaps, that led him to say, and even to
write, “She had went," because he knew no better, had a
large property locked up in that publication, which had grown
to be an authority and a power in the land — a library of
itself, in fact, for the politicians and statesmen of the age;
but every thing depended upon having an index, and a good
index, both comprehensive and minute, for the first twelve
volumes. With such a help, the accumulated rubbish of
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED.
211
years, otherwise comparatively worthless, would be a golden
treasure for the future. They would become indispensable,
bringing in sixty or eighty dollars a set, to begin with, instead
of selling for waste paper; and securing the sale of whatever
he might publish thereafter as a continuation. Hezekiah was
a shrewd calculator, far-seeing, crafty, and sagacious; a truly
honest man, a patriot, and a christian. He wrote also with
a solidity, strength, and precision, quite remarkable for a self-
educated man, without the least pretension to genius, or learn-
ing, or scholarship; and, in many things, much resembled his
great prototypes, William Cobbett and Dr. Franklin. With-
out being illiberal, he was never a generous man, and never
unjust. Indefatigable and precise in every thing, he was
capable of enlarged and comprehensive views, that resembled
statesmanship, and was so entirely devoted to his one work,
“ The Register," and so trustworthy, that, in his hands, it had
become a necessity for all our public-men; and, if he could
only manage to get up the index he wanted, it would be a
fortune for himself and family.
Being satisfied at last, that he had no time to lose, if he
would not waste the labor of a life, and afraid to trust any-
body else, he undertook to prepare au index for himself, when
the publication had reached the twelfth volume; but soon
gave it up, in despair, acknowledging that he found it impossi-
ble to satisfy himself, and that paragraphing for “ The Reg-
ister," about the daily occurrences of the world he 'was
acquainted with, however judicious and apt, was a very dif-
ferent thing from condensing the history of that world for
many years, and compiling a dictionary, under the name of
an Index. He then applied to a man of respectable talents,
and of some literary pretension - as if scholarship, or a taste
for literature, or even talents, were required for such miser-
able drudgery -- who undertook the job, finished it, after a
fashion, and brought him the manuscript, which he run his
eye over, paid for, and then threw aside among the waste
paper that he was never to look at again.
Well-nigh discouraged, though feeling more and more the
necessity of accomplishing what he had set his heart upon, he
concluded to try our friend Watkins. But no: the doctor
was not to be caught with chaff; and, when the terms were
212
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
mentioned, lost no time in assuring Mr. Niles, that other
engagements were in the way, and he could not think of med-
dling with so serious a matter, till the pressure was off, which
might not be for years, if ever. But, before they-separated,
he mentioned our friend Pierpont and myself, both needy, and
both capable of almost any thing that would be likely to pay.
On applying to my old partner, he withstood the temptation,
though, like the apostle, he had begun to “count it all joy to
be led into divers temptations,” being strengthened thereby;
and sent him to me, as the only man, living, who could turn
off such a job, within a reasonable time, and in a workmanlike
fashion ; for hadn't I just given the proof — I, a poet, glow-
ing with inward fire, and almost ready for a display of spon-
taneous combustion --- by compiling an index to Reeves and
Gould's lectures, and writing five hundred pages of manu-
script, on large letter-paper, constituting the fourth volume, in
ten days ? On mentioning this to our friend Niles, he jumped
up, and, saying that I was the very man he wanted, started
off to find me. I was burrowing then in a front room, third
story of a house, corner of North Charles Street, which
had crystallized into a sort of dodecahedron, with a fireplace in
one of the angles, and windows to match. We soon met, and
came to a clear understanding. I was to complete the work
without delay; and when it was finished, if it suited him, he
was to pay me — how much, think you, for a canvass-back
supper? How much, for what would be worth to him thou-
sands of dollars ? Take your own time, after what I have
- told you of his character. Why, two hundred dollars; other-
wise, nothing. Now picture to yourself this kind-hearted, hon-
est, enterprising, and sagacious mạn, chaffering with me, in
the off-hand way I have mentioned, neither of us having the
able sum offered, and offered conditionally, and waiting my
answer: he, a man of large business-experience, about fifty
years of age, as I recollect him now; I, a poet, in the flower
of early manhood — say twenty-six or thereabouts, for I am un-
able to fix the year just now: he, thin, stooping, and weather-
beaten, with a sharp eye and compressed lips; and I, flushed
with health, erect and manly, full of confidence in myself, and
ready for any thing, short of the highway, or a dose of lauda-
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED.
213
num. All Grub-Street to a penny-whistle, that I should laugh
in his face. But no: instead of that, I jumped at the offer, like ---
a cock at a gooseberry, and went straightway to work.
Having had some little experience — very little, I must
acknowledge now, though I did not think so then, as, I well
remember, I fancied I had made a capital bargain. . I began
with taking twenty-four small writing-books, which I lettered
on the outside, A, B, C, &c. I then opened at the first page
of the first volume, and made all the references required;
and then went through the whole, page by page. Then I took
the second, and in that way, went through with the twelve vol-
umes, containing, I should say, about the substance of twenty-
five large octavos. A single item would sometimes require
from half a dozen to a dozen references, and even more.
Suppose I came to “ Erie: ” that would oblige me to mention
66 Perry;" and then the ship he was in; and then something
would have to be entered under “ Lakes,” “ Battles," “ Naval
Actions, and perhaps other heads.
On this undertaking, I labored, upon the average, sixteen
hours a day, every day, including sabbaths; and never taking
an hour for exercise or amusement, for full four months; and
I doubt if the man lives, who could go through the same
work in less than twelve or eighteen months. At last, how-
ever, it was finished. I had copied all my twenty-four small
books, together with half as many more, into a large volume,
alphabetically arranged, and lost no time in telling friend
Hezekiah that I was ready for a final interview. We met
forth with ; and the first thing he did, was to ask what had
become of the thirteenth and fourteenth volumes, which I had
never seen nor heard of. Here was a pretty kettle of fish!
I had bargained for twelve ; he, in his own mind, without
mentioning it to me, for fourteen. The twelve had been left
with me; the other two, as I have said before, I had never
seen, nor heard of. And now what was to be done? I was
in no humor for going over the whole index again, and inter-
polating the last two volumes; nor was it really needed,
though it would have been very convenient, I dare say, for
my einployer. My work was finished. I longed for a mouth-
ful of fresh air. I wanted to run home to my mother, and
finish: “ Niagara” and “ Goldau," upon which I had been
214
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
at work -- when all the rest of the world were asleep, or
ought to have been — after the drudgery was over, and with-
out the knowledge of a human being, for the whole of these
four months; and I longed to be at large, where I might feel
my wings, and try them in the blue empyrean. Of course,
we were in no humor for trifling or higgling; and when I
positively refused to touch the other volumes, the worthy
man had the good sense -- I should like to say the magna-
nimity, if my conscience would permit such a thing — to accept
the manuscript, with many thanks, and to pay me, not only the
two hundred dollars I had so handsomely earned, but to pre-
sent me with the copy of his “Register,” half bound and com-
plete, worth about a hundred dollars at the time, I believe;
and, the next day, I was off to Portland.
At the time I was engaged on the Index, the “ Register"
was making war upon our paper currency, and upon what the
editor called rag-barons and shin-plasters. One day, being
about to issue a new volume, he applied to me for a New-
Year's Address, the only thing of the sort I ever attempted."
It was thought clever by some good people, though I durst not
indulge at all in what I considered pleasantry, and had precious
little of the humorous in me. One single line, or rather a
part of one single line, do I remember. I had flung a cart
or two at the “ Rag-baron's hope and the stockholder's joy,"
and took occasion to laugh at the prevailing style of the day,
in metaphors, venturing to say, “and years, by the Lord !
that have rolled," which he had the good sense to change into
5 and years of the Lord, that have rolled !” So much for
editorial emendations! It reminds me of a letter written to
Mr. Pierpont by a learned theologian, who had just been
reading the “ Airs of Palestine.” The reverend gentleman
could not forbear calling his attention to a strange oversight
in the proof-reading; for, said he, if you will turn to page so
and so, you will find, where you say, speaking of Venus,
“pure as her parent form," the blockheads have printed it,
5 pure as her parent foam!” And this reminds me, that in
a review of the "Airs," written by me, which appeared in the
"Analectic Magazine," where I had quoted something from
the rattlesnake of Chateaubriand, which Mr. Pierpont had
borrowed for the occasion, saying of music personified, and
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED.
215
of the reptile subdued by the flute, among other characteris-
tics, that “ He bares his fangs but to inhale her breath." I
was made to say, and so was the unhappy author, “and bears
his fangs but to inhale her breath,” meaning the breath of
music, after Chateaubriand. But this was a trifle compared
with some of my experiences with proof-readers; for on an-
other occasion, apropos to nothing I now remember, having
written, “Thank God, I have no innocent blood on my
skirts to answer for,” they printed it, “ Thank God, I have no
innocent blood on my shirts to answer for " -- the rascals ! -
or blockheads I don't know which
But I was far from being satisfied with myself; and while
occupied with the “ Index to Niles' Register," as he called it,
instead of Niles's Register, having written two long poems,
“Niagara ” and “ Goldau,” and got together enough to make
a decent volume of miscellaneous and fugitive pieces, to-
gether with a tragerly, in five acts — all under way at the
same time -- I brought out the volume of poetry, while
Watkins and Pierpont were both out of hearing, for which
I received one hundred dollars in law books; and soon after,
on my return from the visit to my mother, my tragedy of
“ Otho," for which I received of my Boston publishers, in
cash, if I do not mistake, another hundred dollars. But even
this did not satisfy me, coupled though it was with my edi-
torship. I wanted more work, enough to keep me out of
mischief, or at least employed, night and day, for the rest
of my life. Having lost so much time in beginning, I deter-
mined to lose no more, if I could help it; and so, therefore, no
sooner was I admitted to the bar, against a strong combination,
who were opposed to me upon three several grounds -- first, that
I was a broken merchant; secondly, that I was uneducated ;
and, thirdly, that I was a Yankee - than I set to work
upon a series of romances and novels, which I threw off at
the rate of two or three volumes a month, while attending to
my law business, and continuing my studies of history, meta-
physics, political-economy, and languages.
Of all these books I shall have something to say hereafter ;
but, just now, must content myself with giving two or three
brief specimens of the encouragement I met with from our
leading reviewers, when I first began to make a noise in the
neighborhood.
216
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
The “ North American,” Mr. Channing, was the first to let
fly at me; and then there was another — only one other that I
ever heard of — who ventured to criticise, instead of puffing
me.
In my review of Byron, I had thought proper to say that
something he had written was "infinitely nearer” the flowery
path of Moore, than that which he had chosen, over preci-
pices and mountain crags. This, the celebrated “Robert
Walsh, Jr., Esquire,” fastened upon — with great propriety, I
niust acknowledge, though he needn't have been so spiteful --
and asked how one thing could be infinitely nearer to another?
Of course, I had nothing to say for myself, in reply. It was
a wretched colloquialism.
But, with the next plunge, he went beyond his depth. In
the fragment of a poem entitled the “ Conquest of Peru," and
printed with “ Niagara," I had ventured to say that somebody
--- the hero, I suppose, if I had a hero, and how that was, I do
not now remember — "saw the Invisible at work." This, the
dear man declared to be neither more nor less than an Irish bull.
But there I had him ; had he not seen the wind at work?
And was not the wind invisible? And then, he assailed two
of my characters in “ Otho” — Ola, the hero, and Ala, the
heroine — saying my tragedy was all about Oh la, and Ah la!
And the worst of it was, that there he had me ; and I never
forgave him, so far as I now recollect, until I had my
revenge.
One day, not long after these criticisms reached me, I hap-
pened to be in the shop of Maxwell, my publisher, and was
asked to read a certain paper, which had been prepared for the
Maryland legislature by nobody knew whom, in relation either
to lotteries, or to the Washington monument, I forget which.
“ They believed it was written by General Winder," said Mr.
Maxwell. I thought otherwise, though, as it was a bit of
respectable composition, without any decided flavor or
individuality of style, and such as men characterize by say-
ing, “ You cannot blame 'tis true, but you may sleep," it might
have been his. After a while, however, I lighted upon the
following passage: “ With insane alacrity and distempered
vigor.” “Upon my word,” I exclaimed, “there, now, is
something characteristic; but, then, it is so utterly unlike all
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED.
217
the rest of the article, it must have been furnished by some-
body else, or borrowed, or stolen.” Two or three days after
this, my friend Maxwell informed me that he had found
out who wrote the paper. It was, in fact, no less a personage
than “ Robert Walsh, Jr., Esquire," himself: he had been so
assured by a brother of that gentleman, who had copied it for the
press. When he told him what I had said about the fine pas-
sage, above mentioned, the brother was indignant; and
though a very clever fellow, in his way, with a good opinion
of me, on the whole, thought proper to feel surprised at my
“presumption," as he called it.
Within the next year, while I was going through with the
Baltimore Athenæum library - I believe that was the name :
it was the only public library in Baltimore, and the entries
well show that I was no idler at the time — I happened to
get hold of “Burke's Speeches ;” and among them was one
- the first I opened — before the Electors of Liverpool -
wherein, to my unspeakable amazement and satisfaction,
too, I must acknowledge - I lighted on that very combina-
tion of words, which Mr. Walsh was so incapable of "in-
sane alacrity and distempered vigor.” Of course, owing the
gentleman a grudge, I lost no time in hunting up his brother,
à clerk or book-keeper in the employment of Mayhew and
Burt, who were among our largest creditors, and informing
whelmed; but, after some consideration, he recovered so far
as to say, with a faltering voice, and troubled eye, that he
must have omitted the inverted commas in copying. Where-
upon, I let him off. But, although “my ancient grudge had
been fed fat," I was far from being satisfied ; and so, having
occasion to tell the story in " Blackwood," I took occasion to
say, that for“ Robert Walsh, Jr., Esquire, to steal from Edmund
Burke, and hope to conceal the theft, was too preposterous for
belief. As well might be try to hide a red-hot thunderbolt in
a snow-bank.” And I might have gone further, and suggested,
as I do now, that if he had succeeded for a time, like the
Spartan boy with the stolen fox, he would have been betrayed
at last in the same way, by having his vitals eaten through.
And I do believe it would have done him good. As it was, how-
ever, though he never wrote in any other than a dead lan-
218
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
guage, of the Blair and Allison type, the red-hot thunderbolt
and snow-bank followed him, like a sleuth-hound, to his dying
day; and we were quits.
P.S. -- Another of these unfavorable reviews has just been
brought to my recollection. It was written by Mr. Holly, for
a New-York magazine, of which he was the editor, and was
really smart, and, in the main, pretty fair. This I anticipated
by beginning a review in the style of the writer, in these
words “ America was discovered by Christopher Columbus,
in 1492.”
And now for a summary view of my literary labors, up to
the time of my going abroad. Bear with me, I'pray you -
for I mean to be very brief — and remember, that if a man
should say that in praise of himself, which, if said of him by
another, would be taken for truth - or perhaps for something
short of the truth — he would be called the vainest creature
alive. A few words, nevertheless, upon what I now consider
their merits and faults; or, if you will, of their excellencies and
absurdities. At my age, I claim to be rather above the com-
mon partialities of authorship, for the abandoned offspring of
my youth; and having notions of my own about the falsehood
and hypocrisy, which pass for modesty, where men have to
sit in judgment upon themselves, I shall endeavor to speak
of my own doings, just as I would of another's, if I were
· called upon to do it under oath, according to the best of my
knowledge and belief.
And here let me say - just here — that I begin to be some-
what afraid of myself; but what can I do? Having told the
same story no less than three times before, in manuscripts which
have been destroyed, and being constantly interrupted, some-
times for weeks together, I do not feel quite sure, on entering
what appears to be a new field, that I have not already
gleaned it; and so thoroughly, that, notwithstanding the loss
of my whole manuscript, by the last great fire, I may be found
telling a thrice-told tale to the readers of what I am now
writing. . If I could only remember what I have written, or
not written, already as I should, if I were allowed to go on
day after day, and week after week, without interruption
there would be no mumbling nor crooning to complain of,
notwithstanding my age. Of that I am sure.
LITERARY GROWTH CONTINUED.
219
But enough. My writing for the “Portico” continued
from June, 1816, to June, 1818. “Keep Cool,” in two vol-
umes, appeared in June, 1817; “ Allen's Revolution,” three
hundred and forty pages octavo, in March, 1819; “ Niagara”
and “ Goldau," first edition, Aug. 22, 1818 — second edition,
July, 1819; “ Otho," a tragedy, in 1818; “Logan,” two vol-
umes, at Baltimore, and republished in three volumes over
sea, April 22; “ Seventy-Six,” two volumes here, and three in
London ; “Randolph,” two volumes, July, 1823; and “Er-
rata,” two volumes, November, 1823 — amounting altogether
to fifteen or twenty volumes, large duodeciinos, without
including my newspaper and magazine-articles, and editorial
labors, whichi, I have no doubt, were equal to at least six or
eight volumes more. Many of these works, as will be seen
by the dates, were under way at the same time; and some
were written for relief, like “Niagara” and “Goldau ” and
“Otho,” when I was utterly worn out, and well-nigh discour-
aged, by the fearful drudgery I had to undergo, in preparing
the Index for Niles's Register; and others, like “Randolph"
and “Errata,” only that characters, and incidents, and situa-
tions, and · thick-coming fancies,” which were not always
suited to the story I was reeling off, might not be lost.
That I took a sincere pleasure in writing; may well be sup-
posed; or how could I have done all this in so short a time,
without ruining my health, unaccustomed as I was to confine-
ment? But still, I say, that, up to the time of my marriage,
I had never been so happy, as while writing myself to death;
which many of my best friends honestly believed I was
doing.
That I was ever satisfied with myself, I deny. Into most
of my writings I have not even looked, for the last forty or
fifty years; while, in no case, have I ever read one of my
books, or a tithe of one, since they were written. Of some,
too, I should be heartily ashamed, were it not that, although
I have outgrown them, and outlived them, indeed, I feel quite
sure, that if I had not written as I did, I never should have
written better. We learn as much sometimes by our failures,
as by our successes — perhaps more; at any rate, I do.
But I must finish this chapter, already somewhat too long,
and defer my criticisms on myself to the next.
220
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER XIV.
OFF TO ENGLAND.
PROGRESS OF PORTLAND; THE BUILDING LOAN; MY OWN OPINION OF
MYSELF AND OT MY DOINGS; REMINISCENCES OF .“ SEVENTY-SIX;”
RANDOLPH;" IMPRISONMENT FOR DEBT; SLAVERY; THE
PINKNEY CORRESPONDENCE AND RESULTS; DUELS; FLASH IN THE PAN;
MY FIRST NIGHT IN LONDON.
SEPT. 22, 1867. — Another whole month, and I have only
written what I might have thrown off in a single day, or, at
one time of my life, in half a day. Yet more: a twelvemonth
has gone by, and I am now on the 301st page of manu-
script; all which, if I had not been otherwise occupied, or in-
terfered with, I could have written with ease in a single month,
at most.
There is probably more “building” now under way, that
makes little show, than there has been at any time since the
fire. At first, every store, every shed or shanty, could be
seen from every part of the city, as it went up; but now
that whole streets have been rebuilt, and high buildings are
interposed by the acre, we have to turn off into the cross-
streets and by-ways to see what is going on. And just now
we have the new post-office, the custom-house, the city-hall,
the Protestant cathedral, and six other large churches, all going
up together, with the Woodman-block, the Boyd-block, Brown's
huge hotel, and scores of smaller blocks and private dwell-
ings in every part of the “burnt district” swarming upward,
as if we had borrowed Aladdin's lamp for a while, and overtop-
ping the old neighborhoods, story after story. And then we
have the dry-dock under way, and our water-works, with a
subscribed capital of eight hundred thousand dollars to begin
with, new factories, and an Exchange in prospect.
The building-loan, too, is undergoing certain wholesome
qualifications, which must help forward the great work among
our middling and poorer classes. While our large property
OFF TO ENGLAND.
221
holders, like Mr. J. B. Brown, may get their money for less
than six per cent, by taking city bonds, a hundred thousand
dollars at a time, and pledging them in Wall Street, where loans
upon such security may be had for five, or five and a half per
cent, the city-scrip selling for 95 in the market, our hum-
bler citizens have to pay 73. The trustees of the loan have
adopted two or three rules which promise to work well for the
latter. In the first place, they give the preference to small
freeholders, who want a few hundreds to finish off with. And
then they refuse to loan on buildings already built, while they
never refuse to such as are about building, provided they are
offered a first mortgage on satisfactory title. As an experi-
ment, in a field of operations altogether new, these gentlemen
have managed with great wisdom and success; and the city is
full of stirring life, and honest, well-considered enterprise.
All the stores and houses are occupied, as fast as they are fin-
ished, and sometimes when barely habitable; though the num-
ber is much greater than before the fire, in all our leading
thoroughfares and business-quarters; and all this, in less than
fourteen months, since a third of the city was laid in ashes.
Our valuation, too, would be largely increased, if the estimate
had been delayed three or four months; and as it is, made on
the first of April, it falls short of 1866, before the fire, only
$690,274.
At last, I have a half-day for myself. At last! In the
progress of Chapter XIII., I find, on referring to it a few mo-
ments ago, that I intimated something in relation to the books
I had written, which might be regarded as a sort of promise.
Be it so. My opinion of other writings has never been ill -
received; and in every case, so far as I now remember, my
judgment has been confirmed, sooner or later, without a single
exception. How it may be with regard to my own doings,
will be seen hereafter.
My first novel, “ Judge Not," &c., afterwards changed to .
“Keep Cool," I have already given my opinion of; and all I
have to add now is, that, although the idea, the leading idea,
was original enough, and most of the situations, incidents, and
characters rather out of the common way, there was much in
it of what even a young writer might well be ashamed; much -
indeed that was boyish, if not absolutely childish. P. S.-
.
222
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
I have just seen a notice in the papers that Mrs. — has
adopted the title of “ Judge Not," for a new book now in
press.
Of the two poems, “Niagara” and “Goldau," I am not
afraid to say, that they do contain a goodly portion of poetry
that no man need be ashamed of; though disfigured by ex-
travagance, overloaded with imagery, and sure to be misun-
derstood by the great mass of readers. The “ Fierce Gray
Bird,” however, has become national. Even Drake's noble
poem, which gave him the best part of his wide reputation,
was a palpable shadow of my Thunderous Bird, which he
spoilt, after tearing the milky baldric of the skies," and set-
ting the stars of glory there, and rolling “the thunder drum
of heaven” with the hand of a giant, by saying of his Amer-
ican Eagle, that “ Jove called his thunder-bearer down," and
gave “into ... his hand” the rainbow-flag. And if the
reader would like to see for himself another very curious resem-
blance, let him hunt up the poems of Mrs. Hemans, and run
his eye over her “ Crescentius," and compare it with “ Gol-
dau," in measure, plot, and character, and see if he ever saw
a more astonishing coincidence. And yet Mrs. Hemans was
then at the meridian of her glory, and with her “ Voice of
Spring," and the “ Pilgrim Fathers," had established herself,
as among the most gifted of her day. She was eminently
original, too; was never guilty of imitation, so far as I know,
nor of borrowing, or thieving; and yet there stands the naked
fact; and if the resemblance be accidental, it is indeed aston-
ishing. I have not seen “ Crescentius” since about 1823, nor
have I read “ Goldau ” since it first appeared. I speak, there-
fore, only from past impressions.
“Allen's American Revolution," had it been decently print-
ed — my part of it, I mean — would have been, to say the
least of it, a well-written and trustworthy contribution to our
history. Many errors I had corrected, and one at least of
importance, relating to our loss at the storming of Fort-Wash-
ington, which had been always underrated.
"Otho” was a tragedy, written for Cooper, in the day of
his strength ; but never played. It was rather too melo-
dramatic, and required too many changes of costume, he
thought; and so I threw it aside, until after my trip to Eng-
OFF TO ENGLAND.
223
land, when I rewrote the whole, changed the names of Ola
and Ala, for which I had been justly laughed at by Mr.
Walsh, and republished it in the “ Yankee.” The first edition,
which appeared in Boston, had a preface which I wrote in Mr.
Pierpont's presence one morning, by way of reply to Dr.
Johnson's argument respecting the Unities. I have not seen
it since, to m'y recollection ; but feel sure that I had the best
of the argument; and am willing to abide by it now. Dr.
Johnson trampled on the unities, arguing, that if a man were
mad enough to believe in stage representation, he was mad
enough to swallow any thing in the shape of anachronism.
I upheld the unities, and my play required just about as much
time for representation on the stage, as the incidents were sup-
posed to occupy in life ; arguing that play-goers are not ex-
pected to believe that what they see is real, but that they must
not be obliged to see that it is unreal. In short, although
hastily written, and published without a word of correction,
while the printer was waiting for a proof, it was, in my judg-
ment, both conclusive and unanswerable. There's for you!
“ Logan” was published in April, 1822, by Cary & Lea.
It appeared in two large volumes, but was republished in
London by the Whittaker's, in four. It was a wild, passionate,
extravagant affair, with some — and, I might say, a large —
proportion of the most eloquent and fervid writing I was ever
guilty of, either in prose or poetry. Perhaps a brief extract
from a letter written by the President of our club (Dr. Wat-
kins), upon whom the book had burst like a meteor, without
notice, while he was at Washington, may help to give the
reader some idea of its effect on our reading public at the
time. The newspapers were beside themselves; and some of
the reviewers, in a small way, went “stepping through the
air.”
“Washington, Dec. 18, 1822.
“Yes,' said I, as soon as I had put down the book, "he
might as well have placed his name on the title-page; for
every sentence, every line — nay, every thought, idea, phrase,
expression - has the living impress of O'Cataract's mind
upon it. Logan, a family history! A family! Why, a
family of such men as Oscar or Harold would occupy the
224
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
world entire. Not another name would live in the vast uni-
verse; and angels and archangels would once more descend
from their celestial habitations to battle with this human fam-
ily, for the mastery of the earth and skies!' &c., &c. . . . In
sober truth, my dear N., · Logan’ is one of the most extraor-
dinary productions of the present age. Such is my opinion
of it, in the general. In detail, I have many faults to find
with it, &c., &c. . . . Yes, yes: no other man on earth could
have written such a book,” &c. ...
Others took it as they took opium, or exhilarating gas; and
everywhere it was treated as what William B. Walter called
it, “a gigantic phantom.”
After this, I wrote “ Seventy-Six," suggested, I have no
doubt, by Cooper's exceedingly attractive “ Spy.” This ap-
peared at Baltimore, in two volumes, and was republished
at London in three. The copyright, I see, is dated Feb.
20, 1823. It is a spirited sketch of our Revolutionary war,
full of incident, character, and truthfulness; dramatic, stir-
ring, and, on the whole, I think the best novel I have written,
or story rather, for it cannot be called a novel, any more than
"Logan” could be called “a family history.” The title-page
of itself was quite enough to show in what temper it was writ-
ten. “ Seventy-Six. By the Author of Logan. Our coun-
try — right or wrong." I had got charged to the muzzle with
the doings of our Revolutionary fathers, while writing my
portion of “Allen's History," and wanted only the hint, or
touch, that Cooper gave in passing, to go off like a Leyden
jar, and empty myself at once of all the hoarded enthusiasm
I had been bottling up, for three or four years.
Two or three little incidents, which occurred soon after its
first appearance, may be worth mentioning here. On my
voyage to England, we had a frightful storm, which swept our
decks and carried away our lee-bulwarks, fore and aft. I was
lying in my berth, and trying to overcome what there was left
of a most uncomfortable sea-sickness, which had settled upon
me, before we were out of sight of land, by sipping lemonade
and toying with an apple, the last a little “ nigger" had left me
of a supply I had brought on board for my own special use,
when I was somewhat startled by seeing our captain leaning
over the table with tears in his eyes. He had been down
OFF TO ENGLAND.
225
several times before to look at the barometer; and, after stop-
ping awhile, would go up on deck to see how we were getting
along; but now he remained so long below, that I had begun
to think the danger over, until, as he happened to look up, I
saw tears in his eyes. What! was our brave captain fright-
ened? A seaman of such experience, and so calm and self-
possessed ; and I was just on the point of singing out, “ Hal-
loo, Graham! what the plague's to pay ? ” when he jumped
up and flung a book down upon the table, with a big oath,
and disappeared up the companion-way. “ D-n the book!"
said he; and feeling a decided inclination to see what book
had been capable of interesting such a man, at such a time,
and why, under the circumstances, he had thought it worth
his while to damn it, being no reviewer by profession, I
jumped out of my berth, seized the book, with a strange mis-
giving, and found it to be “Seventy-Six,” which he bad bor-
rowed without leave, as he acknowledged after the storm was
over, from an open trunk in my state-room. So terrible was
that storm, by the way, that, in passing up the Irish Channel,
we found a large merchant-ship wrecked, within pistol-shot;
of whose whole crew only one escaped, and he by being
pitched ashore from the bowsprit, when she struck a ledge,
over which the waters were surging when we passed, as if
another deluge were under way.
In England, soon after my arrival there, another amusing
incident occurred in relation to the same book. I was taken
out to the horticultural show at Kensington, where, after the
meeting was over, I was invited by Mr. Griffith, editor of the
Old Gentleman's “ Old Monthly," Sylvester Urban himself, or
the son of Sylvester Urban, to a very handsome dinner, where
I met with a number of distinguished nobodies.
« There,” said he, handing me a large arm-chair, “ that's
your place. That's where Byron sat, whenever he came to
see me; and there, in other days, Doctor Franklin used to
sit and talk with my father.”
I cannot say that I was overwhelmed, or greatly abashed,
though somewhat puzzled; but, on further reflection, took it
for granted that my friend Norgate, the friend also of our
famous John Dunn Hunter, the White Indian, whose “ Nar-
rative” was in full feather just then, and who had introduced
15
226
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
me to Mr. Griffith, had probably hinted that I was one of the
“ Blackwood” writers, and given to literary enterprise, al-
though he knew nothing of what I had done, before I crossed
the sea, and my novels had all appeared anonymously, both
abroad and at home.
After the substantials were disposed of, the company fell
into groups, and began talking politics on rather a large scale,
whereby I soon discovered that my host was a great friend of
America, that he was familiar with our history, and with the
incidents of our Revolutionary war, and gloried in the doings
of Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, who gave George Washington's
health one day at his own table, at Holkam, when the Prince
of Wales, afterward George the Fourth, was present, and,
year after year, while a member of parliament, moved the
acknowledgment of our independence.
From politics they went to literature; and, in the course
of a long and free discussion that followed, Mr. Griffith turned
to me, and asked if the author of a book he had lately met
with was known. It had the strangest title to be sure; and
unless one were well acquainted with our history, he would
not be likely to understand the drift of “Our Country -
right or wrong," which appeared as a motto upon the title-
page. Before I could answer, he went on to praise it so ex-
travagantly, that I stopped him in mid-volley, lest he might
go too far, and acknowledged the authorship, for the first time
in my life. He colored to the eyes ; but, after a short pause,
added, “Well, I don't care who wrote the book; what I had
to say, I will say, nevertheless.” And then he went on, with
all eyes fixed upon him, and glancing occasionally at me, and
ran a very clever parallel between “Seventy-Six” and what
he called the best of Sir Walter Scott's romances, then in the
very zenith of their fame; and wound up with declaring, to
my unspeakable surprise, and I might say amusement, that
he would rather have written my book, than any thing Scott
had ever produced. Of course, I made all proper allowances;
Mr. Griffith being a radical, or at least a whig, and Sir Wal-
ter a tory to the backbone, dyed in the wool, like some of our
leading abolitionists.
At this dinner occurred an amusing incident, well worth
relating, perhaps. One of the company was telling the story
OFF TO ENGLAND.
227
of a ford, where a guide-post was set up in the middle, with
this inscription, “When this post is under water, it is danger-
ous passing. “If you can't read, inquire at the blacksmiih's
shop." Mr. Griffiths pooh-poohed at the story, as too absurd
for a joke. I told him it might be found in Joe Miller; and
then added that, within fifty rods of his own house, I had seen a
parallel that very day. The company stared ; and I reminded
him of a pond near by, where, I was told, a hoy had been
drowned, while riding a horse to water. In the deepest place,
I suppose, there stood a post, with a signboard lettered, “ Keep
to the right.” “Well, and what then?” said Mr. Griffith.
“ Please tell me which was the right?" I asked. • Should
We take our own right, or the right of the post ?” A shout
followed, and he acknowledged that, although that guide-
board had been standing there a dozen years, at least, he had
never thought of the absurdity before.
After this, I became acquainted with a Miss Elizabeth W.,
said to be a natural daughter of George the Fourth, a strong-
minded, highly accomplished woman, who certainly bore a
great resemblance to her reputed father. She had been the
intimate friend of Richard Cumberland, knew Washington
Irving well, when he lodged in Warwick-Street, Pall-Mall,
and occupied the very rooms which I had now taken. She
lived in the family of Mr. Herries, who occupied a high posi-
tion at the time, and had made himself conspicuous, by refusing
some of the crown-jewels to his royal master, who wanted
them for the Marchioness of Conyngham; and by obliging
him to restore others which he had already given her.
Mr. Herries had two sisters, one of whom was literally
wasting away like a shadow, under the effect of some disap-
pointment, I believe. Once I saw her, and once only; and I
remember thinking her a lovely creature, with such eyes, and
such an expression, as we sometimes dream of, but are not
often allowed to see in this world. One day, Miss W., who
had found out that I was the author of " Seventy-Six," in-
quired of me if I had ever written any thing else. I owned
up so far as to mention “ Logan," and, I believe, “ Randolph,"
and “ Will Adams, or Errata.” Would I lend them to her,
for Julia ? For, since she had first met with “ Seventy-Six,"
she had gone through with it again and again; it was always
228
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
on the table before her, and never out of her hands, when she
was alone. I yielded, of course — how could I do otherwise ?
-- and the next thing I heard of her — after she had worried
through “ Logan," " Randolph,” and “ Errata,” which Miss W.
said she kept always within reach, till they had become such
a necessity for her, that she had lost her relish for all other
books, even the best — was that she died with “ Seventy-
Six” in her hand; for which, though it was no fault of mine,
I have never forgiven myself. Poor girl! the high seasoning
and wild flavor of these fierce and extravagant stories had
rendered all other literary aliment unpalatable. Had I known
her better, I would have written a story expressly for her,
which might have been worthier of being so read; a story
which I might not have been sorry to hear that she had clung
to for consolation, or at least for amusement, in her last hours.
Not that there was any thing in “Seventy-Six,” or the others,
so far as I can now recollect, which, dying, I should wish to ·
blot; but they were not the books for a dying woman.
P.S.—I have this moment lighted on the following from
Miss W.: “ April, 1825. I send you · Errata. Dear Julia
says, 'Oh! tell Mr. Neal he must write. I cannot listen to
any other author; he is the only one that can arrest my at-
tention, and I must be excited now.'... Isabella says the
same thing, and I am gratified beyond measure that you are
done justice to here.”
Nov. 1, 1867. -I have just been stopped in the street by
an old schoolfellow of mine, who said he had something in his
pocket-book which had been sent him awhile ago from a son
at Philadelphia, and which he had long been trying to show,
me, if I would promise not to be offended. I gave the prom-
ise, and he handed me the following paragraph, cut from a
paper printed in 1827, forty years ago :-
“James Adams, Jr., of Portland, proposes to publish “The
Yankee,” a weekly paper, to be edited by John Neal, author
of “Keep Cool,” “Errata," &c. To which the editor adds, -
“This is the first we have heard of that eccentric, wild man,
since be left England. Neal is a strange and incomprehen-
sible, but gifted being. We know him, and love him, too, in
defiance of all his faults. May he prosper in his native
town.”
OFF TO ENGLAND.
229
But who was the editor who both knew and loved me, in
spite of all my faults ? I have no idea; nor had Mr. Weeks,
who handed me the paragraph; but I am glad to have it fall
in my way, as it shows two things I would not willingly for-
get: how I was generally regarded by the newspapers, even
on my return from abroad, when I had become, as most of --
them acknowledged after a while, comparatively rational and
harmless; and how I was looked upon, here and there, by
some of the literary brotherhood, as worth loving, neverthe-
less. At one time, I verily believe that I was ranked with
McDonald Clark - poor fellow ! --- by not a few of my amiable
countrymen. But God be praised !-I have outlasted their
estimation, and have long been supposed to have a reasonable
share of common-sense. Enough on that head for the pres-
ent, however. When I get back from England, I shall have
something more to say about my newspaper-brethren here,
and the literati, as they were called, of these United-States.
To return, therefore.
Next came “Randolph.” “Seventy-Six” was a romance ;
“Logan," I hardly know what — a rhapsody I suppose it
would be safe to call it, although it contained very serious
arguments against lotteries and capital punishments, especially
recommending that executions should be private, and, if pos-
sible, at midnight, accompanied by the tolling of a heavy bell,
and the discharge of artillery. I have a notion, too, that I
made war in that book upon slavery, and upon imprison-
ment for debt, though I am not sure, and have no time to look
just now. But “ Randolph” was to be a story in the form of
letters, giving an account of our celebrities, orators, writers,
painters, &C., &c. It was, undoubtedly, both honest and able;
and the criticisms I should be willing to abide by now: but,
somehow or other, it was received like a lighted-thunderbolt, -
dropped into a powder-magazine.
It was published in Philadelphia, under the superintendence
of Mr. Simpson, editor of the “ Independent," and brother-in-
law of Dr. Watkins. No sooner did it appear in Baltimore, -
than the whole city flamed outright with indignation — so, at
least, I was assured ; and the great unreasoning multitude
were ready to roast the supposed author alive, or run him up,
as they did poor David Hoffman, almost, at a neighboring
230
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
tree. And why? Simply because the great William Pink-
ney had just been called away, dying suddenly, with harness
on, while heaving at the pillars of something huge and mon-
strous in our system of law, which only he might venture to
grapple with, and our whole country was overshadowed for a
time with the darkness that followed.
Now, it so happened that, in “Randolph," I had given a
sketch of Mr. Pinkney, in which, after acknowledging his
greatness, and saying that the giant had gone to his slum-
bers, like a giant, I had superadded a fling or two, which he
well deserved, though it was rather unbecoming in me, at
some of his doings and characteristics, professional and social.
The sketch had been written just as it appeared in “ Ran-
dolph," while Mr. Pinkney was in robust health, and when
we often met, face to face, at the Baltimore-bar. My book
was going through the press at Philadelphia, and the offensive
part had been worked off when he died, or I should have
struck out the objectionable passages, or at least have qual-
ified them, not being of those who war with the dead, what-
ever I may do with the living.
In the midst of the commotion that followed, his son Edward
C., a midshipman in the United-States navy, a poet of unques-
tionable genius, who had come home, after a long absence,
only to see the last of his renowned father, happened to be in
the bookstore of a Mr. Cole, with whom I had had a misun-
derstanding not long before; and he, heing both meddlesome
and spiteful, handed my book to the young man, with the leaf
turned down where I had sketched his father.
Having read this with a temper wholly unprepared, and
overlooking all I had said in favor of that father, and fasten-
ing on two or three phrases, which, however truthful, had no
business there, being both indiscreet and offensive, he lost 10
time in hurrying off a most imperious note for me, in which
he, was the son of William Pinkney,” required me “ to dis-
avow, unequivocally, in writing, any agency in the publication
of · Randolph."" This was dated Oct. 10, 1823.
Not being disposed to quibble, -- instead of disavowing any
agency in the publication of the book, which I might have
done with perfect truth, for I had nothing to do with the pub-
·lication, I answered the insolent note as if he had written
OFF TO ENGLAND.
231
authorship instead of publication ; saying, “I do not admit
the right of any man, whether he be the son of Mr. Pinkney
or not, to call upon me for an answer, either one way or the
other, in the matter in question ; I shall neither own nor deny
the authorship of Randolph' for the present, whatever I
may be disposed to do hereafter."
• However," I added, that we might have a clear field, and
that if I accepted the challenge it should be for a reason that
would not oblige me to accept half a hundred more, “ How-
ever, I do not hesitate to say that I have read the work in
question, and that the portrait of Mr. Pinkney is altogether -
true, in its general features, according to my own observation :
and that, if it be not so, there are enough to contradict the
author, and confront him, whoever he may be.”
This, too, was dated October 10, and written immediately,
in the presence of Mr. Dulaney, who, seeing me about to seal
it, asked permission to read it. I assented. He read it, de-
clared it unsatisfactory, and forth with handed me the follow-
ing:-
"As you refuse to comply with my former demand, be
pleased to make arrangements with my friend for the alter-
native usual in such cases. It were well they should be
speedy.”
Here was a pretty kettle of fish! Because, just here, if
anywhere, was to be found a decent pretence, if not a justifi-
able cause of challenge; and for a challenge, too, not on account
of the publication, nor even for the authorship, but for adopt-
ing and re-asserting the offensive passages, and vouching for
their truth. But this advantage was overlooked by Mr.
Dulaney, his friend, who, after reading my answer, and pro-
nouncing it unsatisfactory, took it upon himself to hand me a
peremptory challenge, already written, with the signature of
his principal, of the same date, showing how little, or, I should
rather say, how much, had been left to the discretion of that
friend.
Having asked the age of my youthful adversary, whom I
had never seen, and of whom I knew nothing beyond the fact
that he was a midshipman in the United States navy, I prom-
ised Mr. Dulaney an immediate answer, adding that, if I
should refuse the cartel, my friend Charles F. Mayer, who
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
knew young Pinkney well, and had studied law with his father,
would be the bearer ; and that, if accepted, I should send it
by another, having in my mind M. Trenck, the fencing-mas-
- ter, being myself a capital swordsman, and thinking, perhaps,
a prick in the forearm, or a touch in the breast, would be suf-
ficient; but then, if he should rush blindly upon me, and I
should have to run him through, in self-defence, what then?
My mind was now made up. And I wrote as follows:
“SIR, — Your last note would not seem to require much
consideration; but I have given it a good deal; and my reply
is, that I cannot accept a challenge, under the circumstances
of this case, whatever I might do, where I held myself amen-
able to the laws of honor or society, for any outrage upon
either.
“ Balt., 10th Oct., 1823."
This note my friend Mayer delivered the next day, not
having been able to find my adversary on the evening it was
written, although he called for the purpose.
. And then came the following, dated Oct. 11th:-
“SIR, —- I have received your singular answer to my note.
Reconsider its subject, and write more to my satisfaction before
the evening, or, I will post you in the worst terms that contempt
can devise.
I am, &c.,
“EDWARD C. PINKNEY."
Chivalric and conciliatory, to be sure! And what a tre-
mendous threat for a man who had been assured, that, if he
refused the cartel, he would be assaulted in the street. Nev-
ertheless, I took no notice of the threat, offered no word of
explanation, though I might have done so, and with effect, I
dare say, if I had been approached in a magnanimous spirit :
for no man thought, or spoke, or wrote more highly of the
father, as a lawyer, and I had not even touched upon his moral,
or private character.
On the 14th of October, after waiting three whole days for
the answer, which he had insisted upon having sent “ before
HOT-WATER.
the evening” of the 11th, he distributed sundry little slips of
dirty paper, measuring five inches long, by two and a half
inches wide, the following tremendous Anathenia maranatha:
"The undersigned, having entered into some correspondence
with the reputed author of " Randolph,' who is, or is not, suf-
ficiently described as John Neal, a gentleman, by indulgent,
courtesy, informs honorable men that he has found him un-
possessed of courage to make satisfaction for the insolence of
his folly.
“Saying thus much, the undersigned commits the craven to
his infamy.
EDWARD C. PINKNEY.
“ Baltimore, Oct. 14, 1823.”
And yet here I am, at the end of five-and-forty years, alive
and hearty. And where is he? Gone to his untimely grave, **
poor fellow, without ever having met, or encountered me, for
a single moment.
I had been vociferously threatened, I had even been assured
that I should be shot down in the street, “like a dog." But
I had accepted the alternative, not caring that! for being
posted “in the worst terms contempt could devise ; ” and pre-
pared for a personal attack, not by arming, but by throwing
aside the only weapon I had ever carried in all my life, and
then, but for a few months, at most --- a rattan with a stiletto
in the handle, the parting gift of a friend; and by going
about alone, every day and every evening, that my young
Hotspur might have nothing to complain of. I had been ac-
customed to walk, every pleasant afternoon, with my friend
Mayer, the bearer of my reply to Mr. Pinkney, upon the
express understanding that, inasmuch as he was a married
man, or at least a widower, with a young family on his hands,
if the quarrel became serious, I should be at liberty to choose
another messenger.
The next day, when I entered the crowded court-room, I
found all the bar in busy consultation, huddled together in -
groups of three or four, and whispering together; at last, I
. caught one of the members reading a slip of paper, which
somebody had just handed him.. Could it be the dreadful
posting I had been threatened with ? I had come by the
234
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
post-office and other public places, on my way to the court-
house, but had seen nothing, heard nothing, to startle or
disturb me.
“Will you allow me to look at that?” said I to a brother
who was reading it on the sly, without observing that I was
near him. He started, colored, and, after a moment or two
of hesitation, handed me the paper, with what he meant for a
smile. It was indeed the portentous missive, about five inches
by two-and-a-half. I am able to give the exact size, for I
published a fac-simile, with the very language of my antago-
nist, and all our correspondence, in " Errata," which was then
going through the press, at full speed.
“ Allow me to keep this ?” I said, and then, without wait-
ing for a reply, hurried off to have it inserted in my book;
and, from that moment, went by myself, alone and unarmed,
into every public place of the city; to the theatre, the con-
cert-room, the soda-water establishments, then just introduced,
and always in full blast, night and day; and through all the
neighboring highways, without being assailed; and one day,
about a week after I had met two or three different members
of the family, who were always the first to bow, as I was
coming back to my office from a long walk, through Holiday-
Street, I saw just ahead of me two gentlemen, one of whom
I knew to be Dulaney, and the other I took it for yranted was
young Pinkney, whom, as I have said before, I had never
met with. On approaching, I buttoned up my coat, and qui-
etly drew off my gloves, preparing for the worst, and, on my
conscience, hoping for the worst; for I was tired of waiting
for the catastrophe. As we drew nearer, Dulaney touched his
hat -- and I mine; and there the matter ended. Who the
stranger was, I never knew, nor asked; but I cannot believe
it was Pinkney, who, by the way, died not long after, leaving
many a sorrowful admirer of his character and genius.
“Why the devil did not N- accept the challenge of
Pinkney?” said some one who knew me, and who knew of
what I was capable, to William Gwinn, editor of the “ Fed-
eral Gazette," who also knew me. - Why?" said Gwinn ;
“ because no other man living would have refused it!”
And Gwinn was more than half right, I think. If nobody
else would have accepted it, I might: I do not say that I
OFF TO ENGLAND.
235
should; for I had written and published a novel against
duelling — “Keep Cool” —- and a prodigious article in the
“ Portico," on the same side. But I might have done so,
nevertheless ; for, though uncovetous of notoriety, I had a
profound contempt for public opinion; holding that the multi-
tude were never right, where it was possible to be wrong.
Soon after this, to show what the effect was upon a duel-
ling-community, where, to refuse a challenge, and be posted
for cowardice, no mortal man was thought capable of outliv-
ing, let me say that my standing at the bar, and in society, at
Baltimore and Washington, was, if any thing, rather im-
proved by the position I had taken ; for nobody thought I
had refused from fear of the consequences. But they were
mistaken; for afraid I was, both of myself, and of my gallant
young adversary, though my principles had more to do with
the refusal, than my fears, fifty times over.
One other incident, and I have done. A great military ball
was given at Washington, within a month or so, after I had
been posted. Among the managers was Lieutenant Hall, of
the United-States marines, a fine fellow, and a particular
friend of Pinkney. From him, I received a special invita-
tion; and at Washington went to meet a large number of his
friends and officers, at his quarters. Nothing was said of the
challenges, or the posting, and I was everywhere treated with
distinguished courtesy, and with the greatest possible respect;
showing that men have little to fear, even among fire-eaters,
if they are believed to act from principle.
After this, my friend Theophilus Parsons — my friend, at
that time, of two or three years' standing, who had introduced
himself to me — I might say obtruded himself upon me — at
Baltimore, with especial emphasis, upon the ground that he
had written, or made, as he termed it, an article for the “North-
American Review," which had actually been published —
thought proper to say, and in print - when he saw the tide was
turning against me, because he had been a member of Nir.
Pinkney's family, and, I believe, had accompanied him to
Russia, I know not in what capacity — that it was understood
I had been badly beaten at Baltimore for what I had said of
Pinkney; and that was the last I ever heard of the unpleas-
.ant affair.
236
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Nov. 6. - On further reflection, I think it possible that
I may have made a mistake in the last paragraph, where I
speak of Mr. Parsons having been with Mr. Pinkney at St.
Petersburg; but, however that may be, and whatever may
have been his object, I am sure that he knew me too well to
believe the foolish story, and that he gave it currency, in the
way mentioned, to propitiate the family. It was done, how-
ever, not openly and manfully, but anonymously, as one
might have expected from such a sly, sedate, crafty, and
pleasant-tempered gentleman. If there ever was any such
report, I never heard of it, nor had any of my other friends,
of whom I inquired, either in Boston or in Baltimore. In
fact, it so happens, that, up to this hour, I have never been
assailed by any human being, with even a threat of personal
violence, though often desperately outraged in the papers of
the day. The first blow has always been given by me, though
not always the first word, ever since the school-days I have
already given some account of, when a single blow, given with-
out provocation, emancipated me for ever from the tyranny
of my school-fellows — just as knocking out a tooth for a serf,
at one time, was equivalent to setting him free for ever.
P.S. -- Of this young fire-eater, I find in the “ Yankee" for
March 5, 1828, a further account, sorrowful enough, when
we know that he was called away within a few weeks after the
affair. “ No sooner had he got clear of the navy, than he
fought a duel or two” -- acted as the friend of young Tyson,
a quarter-lawyer of Baltimore, in another; and then, being
himself an cditor, walked into the kennel of Mr. Stephen
Simpson, the real publisher of Randolph, and editor of a
Philadelphia paper, and clapping a pistol to his head, insisted
on a hostile meeting, or a promise, which promise poor Simp-
son gave, and then, it having been made under duress, broke,
without shame or compunction -- like a sensible fellow. The
next thing that was heard of poor Pinkney, he himself had
been called out, by the Great Adversary — Death.
Let me add here, by way of a postscript, that I came near
having another affair on my hands after the publication
of “Keep Cool.” I was at Litchfield, Conn., on a visit to
Mr. Pierpont's family. One day, it was determined to have
some kind of a jollification at Mrs. Lord's, mother of Mrs.
.
SOUTHERN HOTSPURS.
237
Pierpont, and invitations were sent hither and thither, all over
the land, for the law-students, who had been undergoing the
lectures of Judge Reeves and Judge Gould. Some of these,
I wrote in a frolic; and having been furnished with the name
of a Mr. McCready, of South Carolina, I believe, I took the
liberty of punning a little on his name, as if it were spelled
McReady, or make ready. No answer came. But a few
days later, when I reached New-Haven, on my way to Balti-
more, I received a message by the hand of a negro, showing
the writer to be exceedingly irritable and impertinent. Instead
of taking my pleasantry in good part, he fell to denouncing
my book, and, by implication, soliciting an interview. • Lead
me to him, Sambo," said I. And forth with he started off, and
I followed, carrying no. weapon but a slender rattan. On
reaching the house where my antagonist lodged, I was shown
up into a room, which, it was evident enough from the tobacco-
smoke, and fag-ends of cigars, and half-emptied wine-glasses,
had just been left by something of a party. There I was left
· alone, for perhaps a quarter of an hour. At last, a gentle-
manly young fellow entered, with a very anxious countenance;
and after a few questions were answered, and I had laid my
little rattan upon the table within reach, my antagonist ap-
peared. We soon came to a clear understanding. There I
was, and fully prepared for a row, if not for a duel, with
knives, and with knives to the hilt. But the young man was
reasonable; and when he and his friends saw that my note
was in fact a friendly invitation, written at the request of two
young gentlewomen, with whom he was well acquainted, he
felt that he had gone a little too fast, and too far; and we
parted on the best of terms.
Let me add further, if you please, that I have prevented
two or three duels in the course of my life, under very
discouraging circumstances. One of these may be worth narrat-
ing here. Soon after my arrival in London, a Captain Bur-
naby of the British army, whom I had occasionally met, I
believe at Chester Harding's rooms, called on me to be the
bearer of a message, any thing but conciliatory, to a gentle-
man who had been a little too busy with the captain's reputa-
tion, where a fine girl, and a marriage, were both at stake.
· Having heard the story, and seen the proofs, and having asked
238
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
why he had not applied to some other officer, instead of troub-
ling a quiet civilian with such business, to which he answered
that he knew enough of me, from others, to justify the prefer-
ence he had shown — which, of course, I took for a compli-
ment, considering I had just been posted for a coward at home
- I told him I would take charge of the affair upon this one
condition ; viz., that he should leave me to make all the ar-
rangements, and accept my decision, without complaint, or
remonstrance, whatever it might be. To this he agreed, and
I lost no time in seeing the party, his mother receiving me,
as if she had a premonition of the terrible truth. Judge of
my feelings ! To have to do with a woman, and a mother,
on such an errand, were enough to try the temper and patience
of any man. . But, although exceedingly anxious and full of
dark foreboding, she was discreet enough to ask no questions ;
and, of course, I only desired to see her son by himself, on the
part of Captain Burnaby, handing her my card.
Our interview was brief, but conclusive. I told him of the
proofs I had seen, and of what my principal had been told. He
was thunderstruck, and I peremptory; but, after a brief inter-
view, he consented to sign, and did sign on the spot, a paper
which I drew up, acknowledging all that I deemed essential
for the vindication of my principal's character. And I re-
turned to my chambers greatly relieved ; for, though I had
resolved from the first, to prevent the duel, if I could, in any
honorable way, and not to humble the young man, if it could
be avoided, I did not feel quite sure of myself, until the affair
was finished. But I was abundantly rewarded; for, in pass-
ing out, I saw the mother waiting and watching in the hall.
One look was enough; and though neither spoke, I knew
that she must have slept soundly that night; for the deep
thankfulness of a mother's heart broke forth over her pale
countenance, like a flash of sunshine.
After 5 Randolph," came “ Errata," a story in two volumes,
published Nov. 18, 1823, and purporting to be the confessions
of a coward, wherein I gave the whole of the foregoing cor-
respondence at length.
While this book was going through the press, I began an-
other, the title of which I do not now remember. Before it
was completed, however, I was on my way to England, where
OFF TO ENGLAND.
239
I rewrote the whole, and prepared it for the press, under a
new title, that of “ Brother Jonathan," which, at the end of
a twelvemonth or so, was published by Blackwood.
But what sent me to England ? I wish I could tell you.
All that I remember, with certainty, is, that just when my
law-business had begun to give me a handsome support, and
my literary labors, to yield a fair contribution, I happened to
be dining with my friend, the late Henry Robinson, of Balti-
more, an Englishman by birth and early education after-
ward proprietor of the gas-works at Boston — one of the
worthiest and most honorable and generous men I ever knew.
The conversation turned, I know not how, upon American
literature, and he, being full of admiration for the “ Edinburgh"
and “ Quarterly," asked, in the language of the day, “ Who
reads an American book?” I know not what I said in reply;
but I know how I felt, and that, finally, I told him, “more in
sorrow than in anger," that I would answer that question from
over sea; that I would leave my office, my library, and my
law-business, and take passage in the first vessel I could find
— we had no regular packets then — and see what might be
done, with a fair field, and no favor, by an American writer.
Irving had succeeded; and, though I was wholly unlike Iry-
ing, why shouldn't I ? Cooper was well received; and I
had a notion, that, without crossing his path, or poaching upon
his manor, I might do something, so American, as to secure the
attention of Englishmen.
Within a few days, I was on my way with Captain Graham,
of the ship “ Franklin,” I believe, with a copy of all my books,
a manuscript-novel unfinished, upon which I labored whenever
I could do so, without growing dizzy, or sea-sick, and the orig-
inal of “ Otho,” which I proposed to remodel at my leisure.
On reaching Liverpool -- which I wanted to write Liver-
pull for a month after my arrival, so miserably sea-sick had I
been, day after day, on the voyage — I lost no time in seeing
the wonders about me, and making memoranda for future ref-
erence; many of which went up in the great fire of July, 1866.
And well it was that I did this; for afier a little time, a few
months at most, the objects which struck me forcibly at
first, became so familiar, that I considered them hardly worth
mentioning; such as the women with wheelbarrows, the pro-
240
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
digious dray-horses, the men in breeches, the prize-fight be-
tween Tom Spring and Langan, the full-length painting, by
Sir Thomas Lawrence, of His Majesty George the Fourth,
the Nelson-Monument, &c., &c., &c.
Nov. 18, 1868. — “Once more into the breach, dear friends
- once more!” It is inconceivable that I, who write so rap-
idly, that a magazine-article of about the average length, of.
ten or twelve printed pages, I am able to throw off in about
three hours, should go to this work with an ever-growing re-
luctance and sluggishness; and yet, I never take up my pen,
without fear of interruption or intrusion, but the old spirit
springs up in me afresh; and I feel as if, were it not for busi-
ness-inatters, and the arrangements I am now making, to get
my son established as a lawyer, I should be delighted to throw
every thing else aside, and go to work in earnest, and never
leave this job, until it was finished. But enough.
- Leaving Liverpool, and taking Chester, with its Roman-
walls ; Coventry, with Peeping-Tom; Leamington; Litchfield,
with its cathedral, and the memories of Dr. Samuel Johnson ;
Stratford-upon-Avon, with Shakspeare; Oxford, and a score
of other celebrities on my way, including Eaton-Hall, where
I first saw the habitation of an English nobleman, with deer
at large, and a magnificent park; Kenilworth and Warwick-
Castle, the grandest old establishment in England, with hun- .
dreds of large pictures, — I went straightway to London, with
letters to a friend in the city, from another in Coventry, hav.
ing, at the time, no idea of the distinctions that separated the
City proper from the West-End, above Temple-Bar, though it
was not long before I did, to my sorrow, and, perhaps I might
say, to my amazement.
My first experience of London was not calculated to
strengthen — or encourage — the feelings I had arrived with.
The weather was detestable, the ways dark and slippery, and the
general appearance of the handsomest streets and finest build-
ings I blundered upon, for the first two or three days, while I
was running at large, so disappointing, that I could hardly be-
lieve myself in London. Could that be St. Paul's ? and that
the Bank of England ? Was that huge unshapely column,
hung with fog, and dripping with unwholesome dampness, the
Monument we had been told so much of? And that, Carleton-
OFF TO ENGLAND.
241
House, with a double row of huge granite columns for a
screen, and bearing only a low entablature, with the arms of
England? At first, I could not believe my own eyes. Bond-
Street I found to be but a commonplace, narrow thorough-
fare ; and the only things that did not disappoint me were
Westminster-Abbey, Hyde-Park, and the street statuary on
horseback, though the monumental effigies in St. Paul's and
Westminster-Abbey, with the exception, perhaps, of that gro-
tesque and abominable representation, or rather misrepresen-
tation, by Roubilliac, of Death, casting a dart from a sort of
marble-safe, at a loving wife, whom her husband is pretending
to shield, were sufficiently out of all my past experience, to
be dwelt upon with a reasonable degree of satisfaction; to-
gether with the brazen giant, Achilles, standing naked at the
entrance of Hyde-Park, in commemoration of Waterloo, and
perhaps of the Peninsular-War, cast from the cannon of the
enemy, at the solicitation of the women of England.
My first night in London was far from being what a stranger
would be likely to enjoy. The city friend, to whom I brought
a line of earnest recommendation, having ascertained that I
wanted a comfortable room or two, where I could lie awake
nights, if I chose, without being disturbed, or called to account,
secured lodgings for me at the - Providence-House," a large
establishment in his immediate neighborhood; for which I was
not sorry, as no mortal could foresee what I might be called
upon to suffer, in this over-crowded portion of Babylon the
Great.
It was, I must acknowledge, a quiet and respectable house
enough, though somewhat sanctimonious and methodistical.
At the end of the first day, we had prayers, which I didn't :-
much like, and thought, if they persisted, I should want to
have it considered in my board; for then I was so much of a
worldling, if not a reprobate, I could not even stomach un-
questionable sincerity, if it trenched upon my personal comfort,
and prerogatives; and as family-prayers had not been men-
tioned with the board-and-lodging, and I had not agreed to
attend them, I felt aggrieved.
After tea, and the service that followed, I strolled off to see
the town, walking up one crowded thoroughfare, and down
another, and wondering where on earth all the people came
16
242
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
from, till near midnight, when I found myself, by great good
luck and somewhat unexpectedly, at the door of my lodging-
house. I knocked: no answer. Then I knocked again, and
again; but still no answer. There was no bell, or I might
have tried that, until the whole house, if not the whole neigh-
borhood, was astir. Still no answer. Then I fell to kicking
and pounding, which I continued for ten or fifteen minutes;
but all to no purpose. Not a sound was heard from within ;
not a sound from without. You would have thought yourself
in a city of the dead, or, at any rate, within the wide enclosure
of St. Paul's churchyard. Not a window was opened ; not a
watchman appeared; not a l'attle was sprung. What was I
to do? In the dread stillness and loneliness of the hour, I
felt as if I had been shipwrecked on some desolate island, like
that of poor Robinson Crusoe. If not the only survivor, I
was “ monarch of all I surveyed;" for nobody thought of in-
terfering with the exercise of my new prerogative.
At last, being satisfied that I had nothing to hope for, in
that quarter, I started off in search of a shelter; and brought
up, after a while, at what seemed to be a sort of low ale-house.
Could I have lodging for the night? “ Certainly,” said the
clumsy, dirty-looking landlord, after eying me suspiciously
for half a minute, and holding out his hand as he spoke:
6 Eighteen pence, if you please, friend.” “Let me see the
room,” said I. “By all means ;” and he led me up a flight of
narrow, dirty, rickety stairs, into a dog's-hole, with two doors,
and no fastenings. Of course, with my notions of London, I
felt somewhat queasy for a while; but at last determined to
run for luck, as I had left my valuables at my lodgings — all
but my watch, some silver, and two or three sovereigns, which
I took pains not to show — being pretty well assured, after
fastening the doors the best way I could, by piling the loose
furniture against them, such as it was, that if I didn't wake
in the morning and find my pockets emptied, my watch gone,
and my throat cut, I should be a lucky fellow; and went to
sleep, and slept soundly, and woke astonishingly refreshed, with
my head on my shoulders, and my treasures all safe.
On reaching the Providence-House, and inquiring why I
was not admitted, my consternation may be guessed at, when
I was told that they were very much alarmed in the night, and
OFF TO ENGLAND.
243
were afraid to go to the door. But why not open a window ?
To which rather significant inquiry, there was no intelligible
answer. And so I cleared out; and happening to have a
0
him with my last night's experience. Having heard me
through, he said the City was no place for me, if I wanted to do
any thing in a literary way. I must come up to the West-
End; and, by the way, he thought if I would lose no time, I
might secure the very lodgings — two rooms on the first floor
of a house in Warwick-Street, Pall-Mall - which had been
occupied by Washington Irving for a long while, and where he -..
had written the 6 Sketch-Book.” I was delighted, of course,
and lost no time in securing both rooms, a drawing-room, and
little dark bed-room adjoining, with board at, I believe, three
guineas a week; more than I could well afford to pay, but
still, within my means, for a while, and took possession imme
diately; and here endeth the fourteenth chapter.
244
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER XV.
LONDON EXPERIENCES.
TRIALS OF AUTHORSHIP; “BLACKWOOD,” AND THE MONTHLIES AND
QUARTERLIES; VAGABOND ENGLISHMEN; “ BROTHER JONATHAN;” T.
CAMPBELL, JEFFREY; " NIAGARA," AND THE “ FIERCE GRAY BIRD;"
NAYLOR, M.C.; COLONEL BAKER; SOLICITOR PARKES; MORE VAGABOND
ENGLISHMEN.
JAN. 1, 1868. — Another year! Portland is now rebuilt, and
greatly enlarged and beautified, with wider streets, much
handsomer public-buildings, and stores, and churches, and an
abundant supply of the best water in the world, the very
best, by analysis, on its way into our houses. But where am
I? Wandering blindfold over opening graves, and along the
edge of crumbling precipices. How few are now left of the
many millions that started with me on the journey of life,
three-quarters of a century ago ? And even of those few,
some are dropping out of the procession every day, and every
hour —— with every pulsation of my arteries, indeed; while
others are missing, whenever I turn my head to count the
stragglers. Be it so. I would not murmur. I have had
more than my share of the blessings, and opportunities, and
privileges, that make life desirable, and so few of the disap-
pointments and trials, the sufferings and sorrows, that make
life itself a burden to the few, that I wonder at myself, and
chiefly at my unthankfulness and forgetfulness.
To proceed therefore. Let us go back to London. Being
now fairly settled for a season, if not for life, in the great
metropolis of English literature, I began to cast about for
something to do, by way of answering the insolent question,
which had taken me over sea — 66 Who reads an American
book ?” But what should that something be? Should I try
my hand first with magazine-articles, or newspapers, or let fly
two or three novels, to begin with? Whitaker and Co. had
republished my “ Seventy-Six,” in three volumes, and A. K.
LONDON EXPERIENCES.
245
Newman and Co., in 1823,“ Logan,” in four; and both had been
well received, and somewhat extravagantly praised, if I may ;
judge by what I saw in one, at least, of the London monthlies.
After considering the matter, on my first arrival, and before
I had taken lodgings at the West-End, I determined to call
upon these publishers, and see if they could be entrapped
into republishing “ Randolph,” or “ Errata ;” or if they would
venture upon a manuscript-story, in two or three volumes,
which I had begun before I left America, and nearly finished
on the way over, though sea-sick most of the time, and which
appeared at the end of a twelvemonth or so, as “ Brother
Jonathan," published by Blackwood.
But, although the gentlemen were exceedingly courteous,
they fought shy; and I soon saw clearly enough that fine
words butter no parsnips. And after getting my city-address,
which, I remembered after it was all over, they seemed to
have no great admiration for -- especially as, instead of tak-
ing a coach or a porter, I had carried my books under my
arm — they managed to get rid of me, by acknowledging that
they were afraid to undertake any thing more, under the pres-
sure of the times, &c., &c. I could not blame them; for the
works I offered were not much “in their way," though they
might have been, for a long while, had they undertaken the
job.
Having satisfied myself that I had nothing to hope for, in
the way of republication, and as little from any new book,
before I should have established for myself a British, or at
least an English, reputation, I determined to try the maga-
zines; and, after weighing the matter well, to begin with
“ Blackwood," the cleverest, the sauciest, and the most un-
principled of all our calumniators.
If I could manage to get possession of that blazing rocket-
battery, and turn its fire upon the swarming whipper-snappers,
who were always lying about our institutions, and habits, and
prospects — now in the newspapers, like “ John Bull;" now
in the “ Edinburgh Quarterly ; " now in the record of British
travellers, like the author of a “Summary View of America;”
and now in the House-of-Commons — it seemed to me, that
I should have my hands full for a time; and that, by perse-
verance and good luck, I might be able to carry the war into
246
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Africa, with a vengeance, and furnish a pretty good answer to
the insolent question, “ Who reads an American book ?”
Having made up my mind, I sat down, and wrote a paper
for “ Blackwood,” making, if I remember aright, six printed
pages, about our “Five American Presidents,” and the five
presidential candidates then before the country — Andrew
Jackson, John Quincy Adams, Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun,
and William H. Crawford - giving outline sketches of them
all, and venturing, modestly enough, to foretell certain results,
which were speedily verified.
With this paper, I sent a letter signed “ Carter Holmes,"
acknowledging, however, that the name was adopted for the
occasion, but promising, whenever called for by anybody,
who might fancy himself aggrieved, to abandon my conceal-
ment, and give up my real name. I took especial care also,
to write as if I were an Englishman, a traveller, who had
seen something of the Americans, and was willing to turn
what he knew of them to account; for I had good reason to
believe, that communications from an American, if he did not
abuse America, would go into the Balaam-basket.
In due course of mail, I received a reply from Blackwood
himself, saying, that if I chose to communicate my real name,
it should be a secret between ourselves, though he did not
require to know it; and soon after, the very next month
indeed, came the article to me. in print, with an order on Mr.
Cadell for five guineas, more than I had ever received in my life
from all the magazines I had ever written for, in this country.
My paper produced quite a sensation, and was immediately
borrowed, and copied, and quoted, and reproduced, not only
in the journals of the day, but in the New European,"
edited by the famous Dr. Alexander Walker, which was said
to appear simultaneously in two or three different languages,
on the Continent.
In a note now before me, from Mr. Henry Southern, editor
of the - London Magazine,” after poor John Scott had been
sacrificed, and sub-editor of the “ Westminster,” dated March
17th, 1826, I find the following passage: “I shall be equally
candid -- for this, and two or three more similar, the Maga-
zine can afford to pay £10 each” ($50).
Dec. 2, 1868. - Almost another year, since I hare written
LONDON EXPERIENCES.
247
a line of this autobiography, having been so busy with law,
in a small way, which I have gone back to, for the sake of my
only son, Pierpont, who has always had a weakuess for the
profession, though serving for a while as a midshipman; and
having written at least an octavo volume for the “ Atlantic,"
the “ Phrenological Journal," and other magazines, to keep
myself out of mischief, while waiting for a wind, I begin to
think it high time for me to finish what I have begun so
many times, and left almost as soon as begun, for the last year
or two, being now past seventy-five.
“ Bock agin," therefore, to Auld Reekie, and my doings
with “Blackwood.” There were some droll errors in my first
paper about the Presidents, and presidential candidates, two
or three of which are worth correcting, even at this late hour,
lest they should continue to be repeated hereafter, as they
have been heretofore.
Speaking of Mr. Jefferson's farm at Monticello, the printers
· made me say “I never saw the proof — “Mr. Jefferson's
fame at Muclicello ;” and where I had written," he expected
the war,” they said," he expeded the war;" probably mistak-
ing the word for an Americanism, which would not bear to be
tampered with, like "jeopardize," or "to progress ;” and where
I wrote, in the plainest possible hand, " The countenance of
the American government, under Washington, throughout all
its foreign negotiations and domestic administration, was erect
and natural, very strong, simple, and grave," instead of
countenance, the blockheads printed it continuance, which, of
course, made the most deplorable nonsense of it. Neverthe-
less, the blunders were copied into the European-magazine,
already mentioned, and perpetuated elsewhere, with scrupu-
lous fidelity, as if they really meant something, so that, from
that day to this, I am continually meeting with them.
This paper led to my becoming a regular monthly con-
tributor for « Blackwood,” up to February, 1826, when I
withdrew the first of what were to be called “North Ameri-
can Stories," after it was in type, and paid for ; and there
ended my writing for “ Blackwood.” This very story, by the
way, was founded on our Salem witchcraft, and constituted the
framework of “Rachel Dyer," after my return to America.
All the papers written for “Blackwood,” except one about
248
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
“Men and Women," where I undertook to show their equality,
and that the difference between the sexes was not owing to
organization, but to temperament and sensibility, had rela-
tion to America, and American-affairs. I took up all our
writers, from recollection, without referring to a book, and
then all our painters; and then I reviewed the reviewers,
and gave the author of a new book, which appeared under
the title of “ Summary View of America,” such a scoring
that he was never heard of afterward. It just occurs to me,
and now is the time to mention it, that after my paper on
6 Men and Women” appeared, in which I insisted upou the
equality of the sexes, and the influence of temperament, as
distinct from organization, in October, 1824, Mr. Jeffrey came
out in the “Edinburgh Review," for September, 1826, with
what follows, in corroboration of my views : “We think it
probable that some men hare originally a greater excitability,
or general vivacity of mind, than others; and that is the chief
difference. But considering how variously this may be devel-
oped or directed, in after life, it seems to us of no sort of
importance, whether we call it a temperament, and say it is
marked by the color of the hair and the eyes, or maintain that
it is a balance of certain powers and propensities, the organs
of which are on the skull.” Here at least, by the way, was, if
not a recognition of phrenology, a penumbra — the shadow
of a shade — showing what there was behind it somewhere. .
My chief object, from the first, was to bring together —
and not to segregate, alienate, or embitter — two great na-
tions, with a common lineage, a common history, a common
language, a common literature, a common purpose, and a
common interest. To do this effectually, I must write as an
Englishman, or, at least, not as an American; being always
careful to say the truth, and always ready to acknowledge the
faults of others, and especially of my countrymen.
Writing for the newspapers on such a subject was out of
the question ; for what knew they, and what cared they, about
America, or American-affairs? Our literature, they had been
taught to believe, and, I have no doubt, did honestly believe,
was “imported in bales and hogsheads ;” our authors, all
imitators and plagiarists; and that the highest compliment in
the world for us, and for them, was to call Washington Irvivg
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249
the American Goldsmith, Cooper, the American Scott, Charles
Brockden Brown, the American Godwin, and Mrs. Sigourney,
the American Hemans; all well enough, to be sure, if it were
only meant to characterize their several works and writings,
because of a resemblance they saw to some of theirs. But
they had no such idea: it was intended for encouragement,
like patting a fellow on the back, and preparing him for liter-
ary canonization, or, it may be, for bolting flapjacks, after a
fashion peculiar to ourselves, &c., &c., &c., subject neverthe-
less, &c., &c., &c.
But I did not reach this conclusion, till I had tried some of
the newspapers, and they had tried me severely. To exam-
ple: On seeing in the “ Times," or the “John Bull” newspaper,
edited by Theodore Hook -- I forget which — a shameful
attack on Washington, wherein he was contrasted with Boli-
var, and charged with Franklin's greatest virtue, niggardli-
ness, or, at least, with unre:sonable thrift, I sent a brief,
but, in my judgment, a couclusive reply; saying, first, that
Washington had refused pay for his services as commander-
in-chief, during the whole revolutionary war, which lasted
nearly eight years, asking only to be indemnified for actual
disbursements and outlays, on account of the army, and
refusing to receive a penny for which he did not produce the
most unquestionable vouchers, though some had been lost, or
destroyed, he knew not now, while moving the army, whereby
he was a loser to a considerable amount, according to his care-
fully kept account-books; and, secondly, that when his agent
refused to furnish supplies for the British vessels of war,
lying off Mount Vernon, Washington's plantation, though he
had good reason to believe they would open fire upon the
place — the officer in command having threatened to do so —
he proved beyond all question one of two things – either that
Washington had given such orders, or that he knew enough
of Washington's character to be willing to take the responsi-
bility. This communication did not appear in the paper that
contained the charges, I believe, though I greatly desired to
send the antidote after the poison — the weasel after the rat
- and through the same channels ; but I had kept a copy,
and it appeared elsewhere in pretty good season, though I
forget where just now.
250
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
At another time, I had a short interview with the proprie-
tor of the “ Morning-Herald," if I do not mistake, who, under-
standing that I should soon be in Paris, wanted to engage me
as a correspondent, and particularly to show up that “ Old
Granny, Lafayette.” The fellow's name was Thwaites, and
he had been a celebrated linen-draper, not long before, with-
out education or manners, but shrewd, inquisitive, and smart
as a steel-trap. Of course, we did not agree; and I had no
further communication with the gentleman, till long after my
return to America, when I wrote a series of articles about
our north-eastern boundary, which, without my knowledge,
were offered to him. These I had kept in a large blank-book,
together with some letters from Governor Lincoln, of Maine,
which were in a measure confidential, though committed to
my discretion. All these papers, a vagabond Englishman,
one of a score I have had to do with in the course of my life,
borrowed of me, at the most critical time of our negotiations,
when the Aroostook-war was beginning to loom up, under
pretence of showing them, confidentially, to the governor-
general, and never returned them. The gentleman's name I
lost in the fire - would it had been the gentleman himself -
or I should certainly show him up here at full length, having
kept him in reserve for that very purpose.
To the monthlies and quarterlies, therefore, I determined
to confine my operations, for a while at least, until I could
make it desirable for them all to have an American-Depart-
ment, instead of being satisfied with an occasional paragraph
on American affairs, in the shape of a fling, or a slur. And
before six months were over, I had succeeded so far as to get
papers about America and American affairs, American lit-
erature, and American art, into “ Blackwood," the “ New
Monthly," the “Old Monthly," the “ London Magazine,” the
“ New European," the “ Oriental Herald” - a quarterly, man-
aged by “Silk Buckingham,” who afterward lectured in this
country, after a fashion, without informing our people that he
had once sailed a merchant-vessel out of Norfolk, Va., before
he went to the British East-Indies, where he set up the
“ Herald”—the “ Westminster," the “European," second series,
got up, without my knowledge at the time, by the proprietors
of the “ John Bull” newspaper, which had been always lying
LONDON EXPERIENCES.
251
about us, and abusing us, and all our institutions and habits,
and published by Miller of Black Friars, who was known
everywhere as the American bookseller, though an English-
man by birth and education, and only an American bookseller,
because he had brought out the "Sketch-Book” by Irving,
after it had been poohed at, by Murray; and then Cooper's
works, one after another, until he passed them over to Col-
burn. It was Miller who engaged me, but the deception did
not avail; for soon after my controversy with Mr. Charles
Matthews, about his audacious and blundering mis-representa-
tions of the Yankee character, which appeared in that periodi-
cal, I came to a knowledge of the truth ; and, although
handsomely paid, I refused to write another line for it. The
Baileys, too, of Long-Acre —with whose progenitors Dr.
Franklin labored, and out of whose establishment came the
printing-press at which he worked, while preaching temper-
ance to the beer-drinkers about him, and which is now, I
believe, in the Philadelphia-Museum -- actually went so far
as to buy up an old monthly, for the purpose of introdu:ing an
American-Department, which was committed to my charge.
In a word, my plan worked handsomely; and I was in
great demand for whatever related to the “United-States of
North-America," a title I began to use, instead of “ America,"
as more significant and exclusive than the “United-States,"
there being a plentiful supply of “ United-States” coming and
going, like shadows, in South-America and elsewhere.
My signatures, when I used any at all, were strange and
multifarious; whether I wrote on America, or upon other
miscellaneous subjects, which I did only at long intervals, as
upon “Men and Women” in “ Blackwood,” or on “ Verbicide”
- punning in the “Old Monthly.” They were signed
A. C., N., A. B. C., X. Y. Z., A., W. A., Omega, Frederich
Richter, &c., &c., &c., and were varied, according to circum-
- tances, for different journals, that all papers about America,
or American affairs, might not be supposed to proceed from
the same individual.
When it is remembered, that, up to this period, May, 1824,
no American writer had ever found his way into any of these
periodicals, and that American affairs were dealt with in
short, insolent paragraphs, full of misapprehension, or of
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
downright misrepresentation, as if they were dealing with
Fejee Islanders, or Timbuctoos, without fear of contradiction,
say what they would, it must be admitted, I think, that my
plan was both well-conceived, and well-carried out.
And then, too, if we call to mind the fact, that, since I gave
up writing for these journals, there has been no such thing in
any of them as an American-Department, nor even so much
as a decent article about America — the United States of
America, I mean; and that, with the exception of Albert
Pike, who furnished half a score of respectable sonnets for
“ Blackwood,” not to be compared with the poetry he wrote
for me, when I had charge of the “ Yankee,” and Mr. Story,
the sculptor, whose wonderful poem of “ Cleopatra," entitled
him to a hearing there, if anywhere on earth — not an Ameri-
can writer, so far as I know, has ever written a page for any
of these monthlies or quarterlies, from that day to this, it
will be admitted, I hope, that I did something for my country
while abroad, something for her literature, and something by
American book?” Nevertheless — but we may as well defer
this part of my experience, till I have to say what happened
after my return to Portland, because, or chiefly, if not alto-
gether, because of my writings while abroad, as the “enemy
of our country, of her institutions, and her literature.”
But I had many a snubbing, and not a few uncomfortable
disappointments, to put up with, and two or three unpleasant
misunderstandings to adjust, before the campaign was over.
For example: After I had secured, as I thought, a fair field,
and no favor, in the great “ European," edited by Dr. Alex-
ander Walker — I believe he was a Doctor, and perhaps an
LL.D., or something of the sort -- he having republished my
article on the “ Presidents and Presidential Candidates," from
“ Blackwood,"in May, 1824, with all the atrocious blunders, and
one or two other papers of mine, about America and American
affairs, furnished for that periodical, I received the following
brief note from him, written with a crow-quill, on gilt-edged
paper, in the daintiest of female hands, not to be compared
for manliness with that of Mrs. Wheeler, the Mary Wolston-
croft of her day, through whose agency we had become ac-
quainted :-
LONDON EXPERIENCES.
253
. “ DEAR SIR, — Our article on Lord Byron .was printed be-
fore I got yours. It is quite different. I think the other
papers too partial to the United States to be well received,
even by liberal Britons. The battery anecdote, and its con-
trasts are a great deal too good.
"I am, my dear sir, most respectfully yours,
[No date.]
& A. WALKER."
In giving a few brief sketches of American character, I
had mentioned Colonel Miller's reply at the battle of Bridge-
water, or Lundy's Lane, when asked if he could carry that
battery. “I'll try," said he ; and carried it. Here was a fine
example of the temper I had to deal with, sometimes, when I
fell in with, or fell out with, a loyal Scotchman, always more
extravagantly and obstreperously loyal, than any native-born
Englishman; just as the provincials and colonists are now.
Another note from the same individual, who, by the way,
had just made a fierce onslaught upon phrenology, contending
that ihe cerebellum was the seat of muscular action, and noth-
ing else, and that no other function could be predicated of it;
and was actually preparing to do for the world what D’Alem-
bert had failed to do — that is, to supply the deficiencies of all
who had preceded him, in philosophy and science, literature
and art, having wearied of that narrower course, whereby he
“ gave up to the few what was meant for mankind” — ran
thus:-
“ DEAR Sır, --- The Dream' is incompatible with our
plan. The other paper is, in my opinion, too serious a reply
to a mere jeux d'esprit [instead of jeu d'esprit]. I have re-
.ceived two others of a lighter kind; neither so thoroughly
investigating the matter, yet either forming a more appropri-
ate reply. Your paper on the Presidents' was a valuable
one.
Sincerely yours,
[No date.]
“ ALEX. WALKER.”
“ Your paper was a valuable one !” What a shocking vul-
garism for a great reformer! Worse, if possible, than his
jeux d'esprit, while engaged in supplying the deficiencies, and
correcting the errors of the great Frenchman, D'Alembert.
254
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
To be sure, the same fault occurs every day, not only in our
newspapers, but in our journals of the highest pretension.
The writers ought to be indicted. But enough. Here ended
my acquaintance with Dr. Walker, whose fresh countenance,
fine head on the whole, white hair, and pompous, dignified
carriage, are all before me now, as I saw him, at the age of
sixty or thereabouts, with such a marvellous distinctness, that
I verily believe I could sketch him, and almost paint him, to
the life, had I the gift I have always been thought to possess,
ever since I first began to talk about painting and painters;
a great mistake, by the way, for I never had any special
talent for brush-portraiture, whatever I may have had from
the first, for pen-portraiture.
Next, I had a bone to pick with Colburn's “ New Monthly."
For all these contributions, I received from twelve to fifteen
guineas a sheet. After my first article appeared in the
“ New Monthly," I waited for my pay, till I began to feel
neglected. Whereupon, I dropped a line to Mr. T. Camp-
bell, the editor, who lost no time in sending me what fol-
lows:-
“10, Upper Seymour Street, Sept. 27, 1826.
“ SIR, — I am exceedingly sorry that you have had occa-
sion to write so strong a remonstrance. To-morrow, the
matter shall be represented to Mr. Ollier, Mr. Colburn's
partner: the money which is due you, and which ought to
have been remitted, shall be transmitted in a few days. I
am not aware that I saw your paper earlier than July, and it
was printed the end of August. Believe me, in the delay of
payment, there has been no intention to underrate the value
of a very sensible contribution. I should send you the money
out of my own pocket, if it were not too late to-day, to get it
from my banker. Why not send a check ?? But be assured,
that it shall be remitted to you in a very few days. Mr.
Colburn is still out of town, but you may depend on my
making Mr. Ollier settle the matter speedily.
“I am, sir, yours with respect, T. CAMPBELL."
While thus occupied, I prepared “ Brother Jonathan " for
Mr. Blackwood. It appeared in three handsome volumes,
LONDON EXPERIENCES.
255
and I was paid my own price for it, two hundred guineas,
after rewriting the whole, I dare not say how many times.
The original manuscript I had brought with me from Bal-
timore, working on it, in the midst of storm and sea-sickness,
all the way over. But my notions changed, after writing
a while for the magazines ; and I rewrote every page of it
again — every paragraph, I might say; so that the whole
web, warp and woof, was changed with a view to Blackwood.
But, on reading it all over, and subjecting it to the judgment
of Professor Wilson, alias Christopher North, and to some
other individual of great good sense, and large experience,
they had their misgivings about certain portions; and he,
Blackwood, was cruelly disappointed. Whereupon, I wrote
it all over again, for the third time, rejecting large portions
altogether, some of which appeared after my return to Amer-
ica, and altering other portions, and changing and qualifying
the incidents, characters, and plot, gashing and peppering the
whole with cominas, and colons, and senicolons, and a plenty
of dashes, until it had become almost a new story, when it
was accepted, and brought forth in superior style, both at
London and in Edinburgh.
Many reviews appeared, and all sufficiently gratifying,
both at London and Paris ; and all, too, by utter strangers
to me. But the most remarkable notice appeared in a vol-
ume of “ Rejected Articles," published by Colburn, and
written by nobody knows whom, to this day, I believe, con-
taining capital imitations of William Cobbett, Francis Jeffrey,
and others, and a review of “ Brother Jonathan,” purporting
to have been written by Jeffrey himself-evidently sug-
gested by the · Rejected Addresses,” which had been so suc-
cessful many years before, by the two Smiths.
Dec. 9, 1868. — I have just lighted on the following brief
letter, which refers to what was “left over," when I had fin-
ished — for the third time — the story of “ Brother Jonathan.”
66 Otterbág” was one of the many episodes I threw aside,
while revising it for the last time; and after my return to
America, it appeared in the “ Token," edited by Mr. Good-
rich.
256
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
“ Literary Union Club-House, Waterloo Place,
“Regent Street, London, Jan. 29, 1830. ,
“In selecting matter for our reprint of the shorter pieces
of American writers, with a view to place American literature
before the British public in a favorable light, Miss Mitford
and myself have taken that most admirable creation of genius,
• Otterbag,' for the first article of the first work. It is enti-
tled · Stories of American Life, by American writers.
- JAMES ATHEARN JONES.”
After this, he wrote me concerning his “ Tales of an In-
dian Camp:” “I know your power," he says, “ with the
pen, and your merciless cautery when you choose to employ
the iron. . . . It is you, sir, that have induced me to write
this book, or rather to edit it. ... That remark” [some-
thing I said in “Blackwood”] “ has been my stay and staff. I
am now endeavoring to make it good in a novel, descriptive
of New England manners, under the title of “Robert Lynn ;
or, the History of an American Parvenu." I shall not
publish it till next winter, being determined to write and re-
write, and after correct, till I do every thing that I am
capable of doing.”
And this reminds me of two other cases, which, though
out of chronological order, have relation to this part of my
story, and may therefore as well come in here, as anywhere.
Among my many letters from Edgar A. Poe, is the following,
received while I was editor of the “ Yankee : ” the rest I
have parted with to fairs, though some were very precious,
inasmuch as they showed the first outcroppings of his genius,
when he proposed to dedicate his first poems to me, and I
said, “ No: it would be fatal to the book.”
“Philadelphia, June 4th (no year].
“ MY DEAR SIR, — As you gave me the first jog in my literary
career, you are in a measure bound to protect me, and keep
me rolling. I therefore now ask you to aid me with your
influence, in whatever manner your experience shall sug-
gest..
" It strikes me, that I never write you except to ask a favor.”
[Very true; but Poe was only one of a hundred who might
HOME EXPERIENCES.
257
say the same thing.] “But my friend Thomas will assure
you, that I bear you always in mind, holding you in the
highest respect and esteem.
“Most truly yours, EDGAR A. Poe.”
The other incident, and one of the last in this connection,
occurred thus. I happened to be in Washington, and in the
House, at the time when Wise, and Stanley of North-Carolina,
had their controversy on the floor of the House, and when Foote
and Benton almost came to loggerheads there. Most of the
Southern and Western members were armed to the teeth, and
all were expecting a terrible outbreak, under pretence of
organization.
While standing near the desk of Albert Smith, member
from our District, a small, dark-eyed, nervous-looking man,
about the size of Aaron Burr, and of our senator Peleg Sprague,
and somewhat resembling both, came up, and we were intro-
duced to each other by Smith. I did not hear the stranger's
name, but he started, when he heard mine, and asked if he had
rightly understood it; on being assured that he had, he turned
to me and said, with tears in his eyes, that he owed every
thing in the world to me. I thought the man beside himself;
and though I saw that he was treated with uncommon defer-
ence by the members, it was not until he had finished the inter-
view, that I found it was Mr. Naylor, M.C., from Philadelphia,
whose letter about the East-Room had produced such a sensa-
tion throughout the whole country. “Why, sir,” said he, “I
know your • Niagara' by heart, and I could repeat whole pages
of it now;" and he went on repeating passage after passage,
till I stopped him; for myself, I must acknowledge that I
could not then, nor can I now, repeat as many lines.
“ And now let me tell you,” he added, “ how you have been
the making of me. When I was a poor little barefooted boy,
somebody gave me a 'levenpenny bit, and I started off down-
street to spend the money, as usual. In passing a book-stall,
I stopped, and the first thing I took up was the Battle of
Niagara.' I opened at the preface, began reading, and was
so utterly carried away by it, that I bought the book, and went
home and studied it. If the author of that poem, said
I to myself, could do what he has done here, under so many
17
258
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
disadvantages, why cannot I? I will! And from that mo-
ment,” said he, “ you were my inspiration, and for all that I
now am, and all I hope to be hereafter, I am indebted to you,"
&c., &c. Of course, I had little or nothing to say; and we
parted, never to meet again.
But something still stranger just occurs to me. One even-
ing, at the hotel, in Washington, where my daughter and I
were staying, a tall gentlemanly-looking fellow, the gallant and
eccentric Colonel Baker, of Illinois, who perished so deplorably
in the late war, at the head of his fiery legions, came up to me
and introduced himself, by saying that he was indebted to me
for his election. “How so?" I asked. “Well," said he, “ I
stumped the state with your · Fierce Gray Bird,' for a banner
— the American Eagle — and carried all before me!" I
bowed. There was a roguish twinkle in his eyes, however,
when he said this, which betokened something in reserve.
After a short pause, he added, “ But the next time, I lost my
election by your confounded Eagle." I laughed, and asked him
how it happened. “Why,” said he, “my opponent had the
first goings-in, and when he opened with the 'American Eagle,'
which of right belonged to me” — “As the first discoverer ?”
I suggested. “ Good!” he replied, “I called it a buzzard
-a turkey-buzzard -- and lost my election." I laughed heartily
for what else could I do? - and then assured him that he
was not far out of the way, in calling it a buzzard, for, being no
naturalist, at the time I wrote the “ Fierce Gray Bird,” I gave
ler —
"A collar of gleaming hair, -
Around a neck that was writhing and bare,"
without a suspicion that I was palming off upon the good-na-
tured public a vulture, instead of an eagle. It was now his
turn to laugh, and he promised me, before we separated, to
remember what I had told him, and make use of it, from the
Author, on the first proper occasion! And he kept his prom-
ise, I dare say; for he was a roguish, ready, and captivating
speaker, full of quiet, playful sarcasm, and natural archness.
But why need I feel mortified at the blunder? I do not: I
never did; for hadn't “ poor dear Byron ” got aground in the
same way, or rather got beyond his depth in the same way,
PLEASANTRIES.
259
when he ascribed to the “ bloody beak” of his bird - a bird
of prey — the function of talons ?
And here, just here, I am reminded of something worse, and
much harder to bear. A fellow in Salem, who had charge of
the high-school there, published a handsome school-reader
in which, without saying, “By your leave,” he stirred up
my “Fierce Gray Bird," to some purpose ; for he had the
folly, and, I may as well say it, the presumption, to change the
first line, “ There's a fierce gray Bird, with a bending beak,"
into “ There's a bald bold Bird, with a bending beak”! - which
well deserved to be called a litter-a-tion. Poor fellow! His
name was Northam, and as he did it for notoriety, I am disposed
to grátify him. Let me mention here, while I think of it, that
my American Eagle was lanched like a thunderbolt, as the
“Fierce Gray Bird,” and “ Proud Bird of the Cliff," long be-
fore Drake's magnificent poem appeared, which has been so
well received ; of this, I feel quite sure, though I cannot stop
to verify the fact by date, just now.
The pleasantry of Colonel Baker, by the way, is only to be
matched, in my experience, by something which happened to
me in Boston, during the Harrison-campaign. The city was
over-crowded, all the public houses were crammed. I was a
delegate. On my return from the great Bunker-Hill celebra-
tion, it rained cats and dogs. Mr. Moses Kimball, of the
Museum and late Mayor of Boston — almost — picked me up
on the highway, all sopping wet, and took me home to din-
ner. Just before we sat down, he led me up to his library,
and took down a tattered, dirty-looking book, the dog-
eared leaves hardly kept in place by the cover, so much had
it been used. It was the first volume of " Keep Cool.” After
I had sufficiently admired it, he reached up, and took down
the second volume, which appeared quite new and fresh. I
hope he enjoyed the joke as much as I did. I only know that
my appetite was undisturbed, so that if he had another object
in view, he must have been a little disappointed. My notion
was, that he had been pairing off at the book-stalls, from odd
volumes ; both being odd enough to match any thing, for the
matter of that. But to return.
“ Whar ye gangin', Sawney ?” said a man to a fellow he
found creeping through his hedge. “ Bock agen," was the
260
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
reply; and, in the same spirit of humble acquiescence, I say,
“ Bock agen."
While thus engaged for “ Blackwood," the “New-Monthly,"
and other magazines, I took regular lessons in fencing,
sparring, and horsemanship, with a new set of masters ; pre-
pared another story, which appeared long after in this country
under the title of " Authorship;” a very favorable review of
which, and of “ Rachel Dyer,” too, in the same article, I lighted
upon but yesterday, by the merest accident, in the “ English-
man's Magazine,” for April, 1831, while rummaging among
some old papers.
But I have not quite finished my account of the head-flaws
and mishaps I had to encounter, while working my passage,
through the straits of magazine literature.
While engaged in retranslating Dumont's “Morals and
Legislation ” into English, for Mr. Bentham, he urged me so
earnestly and vehemently to write for the “ Oriental Herald,”
and the “ Westminster," both quarterlies, that I consented.
From Buckingham, the editor and proprietor of the “ Herald,”
who had been driven out of India by the Governor-General,
and hunted from pillar to post, I got nothing but thanks ;
from the “ Westminster,” still worse pay; for although I was
compensated with a fair allowance of gold, it was after having
been grossly cheated, and made to say things that had never
entered my head, by alterations of the manuscript, after I had
corrected the proofs; and to express opinions both false and
foolish, about our American oratory. For example and
for this insolent interpolation, I was indebted to Dr. John
Bowring, now Sir John Bowring, the principal editor, though
Mr. John Stuart Mill had a finger in the pie; for I saw two
or three marginal notes of his, and charged him with having a
hand in the pitiful trick, but he denied all participation - I
was made to say, that our oratory, after I had been citing
Webster and Everett, and giving passages from Sprague's ora-
tion, was the exhibition of a strolling Thespian, compared with
the calm and beautiful style of English speakers ! I do not
give the exact language, but will by and by
It was in this article, which appeared Jan. 7, 1826, in the
“Westminster Review," under the title of " United States," that
I first assailed our preposterous militia-system, for its injustice
LONDON EXPERIENCES.
261
and absurdity ; following it up, after my return to America,
with such success, that it soon disappeared, and for ever.
And here, too, I proposed a plan for uprooting slavery in the
land, without violence or wrong, and in such a way as would
be certain to secure the co-operation of the slaveholders them-
selves. The scheme was not only just and generous, but
reasonable, and the best--I say it now and here, without
qualification or misgiving — the very best that was ever sug-
gested, up to the day when the decree went forth from the
Presidential mansion, as from another Sinai.
“And blasts of unseen trumpets, long and loud,
Swelled by the breath of whirlwinds, rent the cloud."
In short, I was wronged and betrayed, and never wrote
another page for the “ Westminster," till I reviewed“ Politica,"
of which a word or two hereafter. But stay! .
A number of amusing incidents have just occurred to me;
and lest I may forget them in the heat and hurry of composi-
tion, we may as well have them up now, all hot, with their
newest flavor.
One of the most remarkable was, that I learned skating on
the little river of St. James's Park ; and that, in a few hours
at most. My first and last essays in that direction, at home,
had been accomplished, at the age of ten perhaps, on one foot
only -- one foot, shod with a piece of rusty iron hoop - when,
having no ice in the neighborhood, I had to put up with a
“ glittering generality,"as we politicians would call it; a smooth,
shining crust, after a heavy rain, following a snow-storm, which
had lasted a long while. It was just back of my mother's in
Fish-Street, now Exchange-Street, on a large open lot, with
apple-trees here and there, and a few stumps for me to run my
head against, while skating on one foot, or sliding on a level.
Think of that ! — a thorough-going Down-Easter, from the Dis-
trict of Maine, at the age of thirty-one or two, learning to
skate in London, where the ice, instead of being quarried
in blocks two or three feet square, month after month, and
clear as ringing crystal, seems to be, at best, but a puddle of
dirty water newly skimmed over, and covered with undulating
wet pasteboard.
One sabbath-day - Sunday is always a sabbath, you know,
262
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
with a New-Englander - I was taking a stroll with Solicitor
Parkes, of Birmingham, author of a capital History of
the Court of Chancery, and other valuable treatises on the
metaphysics of law, who had married a daughter of Dr.
Priestley, and was thought a dangerous fellow, on account of
his leaning toward republican institutions; and when we
reached the New-River, we found it frozen over, and literally
covered with parties rushing this way and that, in every
direction, often half-leg deep in water, as the rotten ice yielded
to the pressure, and disappeared, like a wet cloth, only to rise
again, after the pressure was over, with a slow undulating
motion, as if held together by something underneath. Several
persons had gone under; others had been fished up, we were
told, by a member of the Humane-Society; while one or two
had been drowned outright, and others were still missing. I
was not only astonished, but horror-struck. Nothing would
have tempted me to run such a risk, and while I was express-
ing my astonishment, in the belief that my friend Parkes
agreed with me entirely -- for he had assented to all I
thought proper to say about such recklessness and folly; such
infatuation, or hallucination, or fool-hardiness, call it what you
please — happening to turn my head, after a short silence, I
found my gentleman, this “potent, grave, and reverend signior”
of the law, down on one knee, and eagerly strapping on a pair
of skates that he had brought with him, under his coat-tail;
and before I had time to remonstrate with him, as he deserved,
he was off and away, among the dead men, and about as mad
as the maddest. Nevertheless, I must acknowledge that he
6 walked the water like a thing of life ;” and though I shouldn't
have known whether he was wading, or skating, or floundering
for most of the time, and that he came out, at last, without
passing through the hands of the Humane-Society; and not as
if he had been fished up, through a special Providence even, as
others were. So much for London pastimes in the dead of
winter, when the people fancy they are amusing themselves,
like hyperboreans of the walrus, or the seal and white-bear
communities.
A slight hurried sketch of this gentleman may not be amiss
here. He was about five and thirty, of a slender spare make,
and a nervous-bilious temperament, with a countenance full of
LONDON EXPERIENCES.
263
energy, and a fine, compact, though not large head. A letter
of his, which I have just met with, while rummaging for quite
another purpose, among the little I have left from the great
fire, will give a very just idea of the man's true character.
6 DEAR NEAL, — I have often meditated writing you a
friendly line of recollection ; but my Mammon, my worldly
craft, engrosses all my time. I have, the last twelve months,
plunged into business, out of which I shall not be extricated,
till I have attained the maximum of independence —now one
figure — probably to be carried, by avarice and ambition,
from figure to figure, till my body is deposited with its ances-
tral procreators. Thus we live and die. I dined this day
fortnight with the great philosopher in Queen-Square Place:
talking of you, and the “Yankee,” now lying on the table
below there, brings you to my mind. Let me have a line to
say how, where, and with what objects, you are on the crust
of the earth. Any letters or parcels will find me by any oppor-
tunity, to my brother - Samuel Parkes, Esq., Merchant, Liver-
-pool, England.
“I send you my chancery history. It will soon appear in
another edition in two volumes. The public and the critics
must carry its character, good, bad, or indifferent, to you.
“In great haste, yours most truly, JOSEPH PARKES.
“Birmingham, 7 Feb. 1829."
“ The Westminster' is revived, but consumptively, in a
great cabal. Many of the dons retired within their shells,
disapproving of Bowring's late editorship. I regret this. I
regret the cause. My only anxiety, however, is the money of
the admirable old philosopher" - meaning Bentham, whose
pockets had been drained, year after year, to feed Bowring, as
co-editor with Mr. Southern, and, then as editor ; the great
and good Bentham being fully persuaded by the former, that
he was working wonders for humanity through the “ Westmin-
ster," while he was bleeding slowly to death, drop by drop, as
Sinbad the sailor might have done, if the Old-Man of the Sea
had thought of tapping him in the jugular, after he was
mounted.
Speaking of vagabond Englishmen, I may as well get a
264
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
few of them off. my mind, before I go any further. One day,
in passing along a crowded thoroughfare I came full butt upon
a fellow, who had swindled us (Pierpont, Lord, and myself) out
of some thousands, and then suddenly disappeared, as if the
earth had opened, and swallowed him up; and I dare say we
then wished it had. For six or eight years, we had lost all
trace of him. The highway being rather inconvenient for
settling such questions, as were likely to arise between us,
I took his address, and gave him mine, he promising to see me
at my lodgings forthwith, and that was the last I ever saw or
heard of the gentleman.
A brief history of our acquaintance may go far to justify
what I have said heretofore, and still mean to say, as long
as I have breath in my body, about vagabond Englishmen:
exceptions I acknowledge here, and once for all, to the hun-
dreds I have known and loved, and sincerely respected, both
abroad and at home, for their manliness, and truth and gen-
erous courtesy.
My partner Lord, while we were in business at Baltimore,
had got acquainted with him as Frederick Gray, at Niblo's,
where he dropped in occasionally, to dine or lunch. He was a
fine-looking fellow, six feet high, broad-chested and well-pro-
portioned, good-natured to a fault, acquainted with horses and
the prize-ring, and a capital hand for large business. Being
after a situation, Lord took him to Baltimore, and gave him a
berth as a sort of understrapper, at very low wages, till he
could do something for himself in another way. After a few
months, finding him diligent, active, to all appearance honest,
and well-acquainted with dry-goods, we held a council of war,
Ed at last concluded to set him up in business for himself, as
a retailer on Market-Street.
Soon after this, a half-brother came out, bringing with him
two or three suits of clothes, which I had ordered from a
London tailor, at the suggestion of Gray. The very first
morning after his arrival, the young man, having understood
that I was going out for a day's shooting, proposed to go with
me. I could not well refuse, knowing what a privilege it is
for an Englishman to carry arms, without a license, taking
with him a poodle or terrier, a mastiff or a bull-dog, for au-
thentication. After a while, happening to observe his legs,
VAGABOND ENGLISHMEN.
265
as I saw him a little way off, clambering over a rough sort of
a fence, I called out to him to look out, or he would want
another pair of trowsers to go home with. He said nothing,
but kept out of my way, leaving me to wonder if it was quite
the thing for an Englishman to go after birds, in a fashionable
suit of superfine black broadcloth. After a while, on express-
ing my disappointment that only one suit of clothes had
reached me, and especially that my black suit, which I most
wanted, and most needed in fact, had never appeared, I got
a hint from a fellow-boarder that I need not look far, to find
the missing suit. It was even so. · The young scamp had
appropriated my whole suit of black, on coming ashore, that
he might make a favorable impression, while looking about for
a berth; and not having any other clothes, respectable enough
to go a shooting in, had been obliged to appear in black. What
became of the fellow, I do not remember; I only know that
after his big brother ran away, we found that his name was
not Fred Gray, but Joe Glover, and that the two rapscallions
were not half-brothers, but full brothers; and then it was
that a mystery was explained, which had long puzzled us.
Two or three times, the youngster had spoken of "our Joe," in
such a way as to lead us into the belief, that he was growing
rather too familiar, considering his age and position; my
partner being Joseph Lord, and called our Joe “ for short."
Alas for our simplicity! we had never suspected the truth,
till both birds were on their way to their nest, in Norfolk,
England.
biere, who did us out of a retail-stock in Charleston, S.C.,
a low actor, I verily believe, at some early period of his life,
though afterward the confidential clerk of a Mr. Dayton,
who did a large business of some sort in Philadelphia, before
this exceedingly pleasant gentleman cut loose from the em-
ployment of a book-keeper, with a large family to provide for,
and took to the highway, without exposing himself to prose-
cution. The very first move he made toward acquaintance
ought to have put me upon my guard, I must acknowledge;
but I was doing a large business, and he was a fellow-boarder,
who had made a favorable impression on both of my part-
ners. Passing through my warehouse one day, when I was
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
out, he found a box of Irish linens on tap near the door,
opened, I suppose, to show their jobbing qualities. And what
does my gentleman do, but carry off a whole piece, worth
fifty or sixty dollars, for his wife to look at; for he knew we
did not retail. And this was the last we ever saw of that
piece. Would it had been the last we ever saw of hinı !
It might have saved us a few thousands, at least.
And now for number four. One day, when I was lolling,
half-awake, in my office, at Baltimore, over some dull treatise
of law, a portly, middle-aged man, of rather a dignified bear-
ing, entered, and introduced himself to me as an English
barrister. I forget his name just now, but he wanted pro-
fessional advice, and soon managed to let me know — inci-
dentally, and not by any means boastfully — that Charles
James Fox was his gud-father, and that he had left England
on account of a duel, not otherwise worth mentioning Soon
after this, he consulted with me about entering upon the profes-
sion at Baltimore. I told him what the difficulties were: he
would have to study three or four years, I forget which, with
some lawyer of the Baltimore bar. “ All right," he said:
he was informed and fully prepared for that; and, on the
whole, thought it would be no disadvantage to him, as he
knew very little of American law, and, he might have
said, nothing at all of English law, common or statute. In
short, he was anxious to enter with me. I consented ; and
he went to work, paying me two hundred dollars to begin
with, for a student's fee.
At the end of six months or so, I found that he had mar-
ried an aged spinster, with a little property, somewhere in
the neighborhood of Havre-de-Grace, and was actually co-
habiting with two servant girls - sisters — at the same time,
under his own roof, all three occupying the same bed. Here
our acquaintance ended, and the gentleman disappeared. So
much for number four.
One other case, and I have done with this branch of vaga-
bond natural history; vagabund Englishmen, after all, being
but few in comparison with the numberless vagabond Amer-
icans who have wronged, betrayed, or cheated me, year after
year, just in proportion to the disinterested sacrifices I have
made for them, ever since my boyhood.
BACK AGAIN.
267
After my return to Portland, in 1826, I was invited to join
a debating club, under an idea that, as I wrote so much, and
so well, I must be a capital debater. One evening, at the
old city-hall, a question was sprung upon us of a nature to
rouse all the manhood there was in me, and I made a very
decent speech — a great speech, others called it. I was fol-
lowed by a young stranger, an Englishman, with a little of
the Yorkshire twang, who took the same view I had taken,
and manifested a good degree of readiness and fluency, with-
out being otherwise remarkable in any way. After the
meeting broke up, he introduced himself to me as a Mr.
Boyle, from Staffordshire, I think, judging by his great famil-
iarity with the manufactures of that place, the potteries, &c.
He claimed to be a nephew of the British consul at New-
York, a relation of Mrs. Hemans, and, after a little further
acquaintance, a kinsman of Lord or Lady Byron. He had
belonged, he said, to a debating society in his own neigh-
borhood, and come over here to seek his fortune. He wanted
to be a lawyer, believing that profession to be the best for
a young and ambitious temper. But he was poor and friend-
less, a stranger among strangers, and how should he maintain
himself? After due inquiries at New-York, which satisfied
me up to a certain point, and I did not think it my business
to go further, I took him as a student, without a fee; and
feeling a special sympathy for young men, who, like myself,
had to make their own way through the world without help,
it mattered little in what business, I managed to put him in
the way of earning his bread, by the manufacture of bone-
black, such as they used in the potteries. In a little time, by
his apparent frankness and plausibility, he managed to obtain
of my personal friends a full cargo of bones, which he took
away with him in a small schooner, for Boston or New York,
without having paid a dollar for the whole; and that was
the last I ever saw of him until many years had gone by,
when, happening to be at Washington, with my eldest
daughter, we were persuaded to attend the President's levée,
as they call it. While promenading the East-Room, with a
daughter of Judge Parris on my arm, a tall, fine-looking
stranger, whom I did not recognize at first, came up to me,
with a captivating smile, and offered his hand, while we
268
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
were literally surrounded by a circle of distinguished men.
One look was enough. I refused the hand he offered, and
turned away without speaking — to the astonishment, I dare
say, of all who saw the procedure. Not satisfied with this,
the fellow planted himself right before me; and, as the circle
began to enlarge, demanded, in a loud voice, what I meant
by refusing his hand. I answered quietly, though loud
cnough to be heard by all the bystanders, whose attention
had been attracted by his behavior, “Because you are an
impudent scoundrel, and a swindler.” If a thunderbolt had
fallen in our midst, the people about me could not have ap-
peared much more astonished. What! in a crowded assem-
bly at the Presidential mansion, and in the presence of ladies,
to break out in this way — who ever heard of such a thing!
“You will hear from me," said Mr. Boyle, turning away to
hide his confusion, and nodding toward the main entrance,
as if inviting me to follow. I signified my assent; and
as soon as I had resigned the care of his daughter to Judge
Parris, I followed my gentleman to the door; but he was not
to be found. On returning to Brown's Hotel, however, I
found him waiting for me at the bar. The moment he began
to speak, I said, “Sir, I shall not accept any apology, or ex-
planation," and turned away, he following me through the
darkest part of the passage, and muttering that he had no
apology, nor explanation to offer. As he was larger, and
probably much heavier than I, and from a fighting region,
I must acknowledge that I expected a row, and was prepared
for it. But instead of "pitching-in," he withdrew by another
door, and the next day sent me a message by a servant, say-
ing that the blood of all the Boyles demanded satisfaction; that
be was bent upon being avenged, and intimating that I must
prepare for a personal attack. Whereupon, having shown
the missive to my friend, Senator Fessenden, and asked him,
in playfulness, to be my second, I started off, to walk by the
lodgings of my pleasant adversary. This I did forthwith,
passing three or four times by the door of the hotel where
he intimated that he was to be found — at least until his
board-bill should be due; but I never saw him again, poor
fellow, never, — and have not heard from, nor of him, from
that day to this. But enough. These are but samples of
LONDON EXPERIENCES.
269
what I have had to endure in helping others — like Pelby,
the actor; Sumner Lincoln Fairfield, the poet; and General
Bratish, Count Eliovich, the Hungarian refugee — both
abroad and at home; the simple truth being, that most of my
quarrels through life, and all that are worth remembering,
have been in the defence, or for the help of others, not one of
whom, by the way, ever thought of repaying the obligation,
or even of acknowledging the debt, for which may God for-
give them as freely as I do!
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER XVI.
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SUBSTANTIAL TRUTH, ANI)
CIRCUMSTANTIAL TRUTH.
EXAMPLES AND ILLUSTRATIONS; MR. JOHN BOWRING, BEFORE HE WAS
AN LL.D., OR KNIGHTED; SKETCH OF HIS CHARACTER, FROM LIFE,
WITH ANECDOTES; " WESTMINSTER REVIEW;" HIS CLEVERNESS, AND
CRAFT, AND SHORT-SIGHTEDNESS; JEREMY BENTHAM; BOWRING'S NO-
TIONS OF PATRONAGE; HIS BARGAINS WITH ME, AND THE CONSE-
QUENCES; SOLICITOR PARKES, SIR ROWLAND HILL; MR. BLACK, OF THE
“ MORNING CHRONICLE;" JOHN STUART MILL.
Dec. 14, 1868. — If you think it an easy matter to tell the
truth, my friend, just try it for once: will you? I do not
mean substantial truth, but circumstantial truth; for there is
a great difference between the two. A man greatly given to
bouncing, or to poetical embellishment, once consulted a friend
about the best way of breaking off the habit. After due con-
sideration, his friend advised him to begin with one truth a
day. If you desire to be circumstantially exact, you cannot
do better than to follow that man's example. No matter how
conscientious you are, my life on it, you cannot tell the same
story twice alike; and yet, it may be substantially true.
Two illustrations, within my experience — and I might
give a thousand, I dare say, if I had the particulars reduced
to writing - may serve to show what I understand to be the
difference between substantial, and circumstantial truth.
Not long ago, eight or ten years perhaps, I wrote a maga-
zine-article, which had something to do with coincidences ;
and, by the way, this reminds me, that on the twenty-eighth
of November last, which was my son's birthday, some of us
happened to mention it, in the presence of our two next-door
neighbors — one, Mrs. D., on the right; and the other, Mrs.
S., on the left — when, to our astonishment, we found that
they also were born on the twenty-eighth of November; all
three in a row, therefore. In the article referred to, I stated
SUBSTANTIAL AND CIRCUMSTANTIAL TRUTHS.
271
that, on the first morning after my arrival in London, I stopped
to look at some letters I had with me, near the bronze eques-
trian statue of Charles I., at Charing-Cross; that I selected one
addressed to Mr. Charles Toppan, with Messrs. Perkins and
Co., say No. 481, Fleet-Street, having business with Mr. P.
about a newly-invented engine of prodigious power. As I
looked up, a stranger was passing, of whom I inquired the
way to Fleet-Street. “I am going that way," said he, "and
will show you.” After a while, he stopped, and said, “ This
is Fleet-Street; I am going no further. What number do
you want?” -“ Number 481.” — “This is 481. Whom are
you looking for?” “ Mr. Charles Toppan, the eugraver," said
1. “That is my name," said he. Now, when I wrote the
article, I honestly believed I was telling the simple truth, as
a part of my own experience. Judge of my amazement,
when I heard from my daughter in New York, that Mr. Top-
pan had mentioned the subject, and assured her that the
strange coincidence happened not to me, but to Mr. John
Dunn Hunter, the author of “ Hunter's Captivity among the
Indians!” How are we to explain this, supposing Mr. Toppan
to be right, and I wrong? I did carry a letter to him at Mr.
Perkins's, or to Mr. Perkins himself. I did take my letters
out to look at them, the first morning after my arrival, and I
did this near the statue of King Charles, at Charing-Cross;
and I did personally deliver the letter to Mr. Toppan, or to
Mr. Perkins, I forget which. Hunter had lodgings in the
same house with me, in Warwick-Street, Pall-Mall. Of
course, I must have had the story from one or both; and when
I came to illustrate, like the fellow who got drunk for illustra-
tion, while his brother was lecturing on temperance, my whole
attention was fixed on the main point, as a wonderful coinci-
dence, that a stranger, among a population of more than a
million, should accost another stranger at sight, to inquire the
way, and find him to be the very man he wanted. If I had
only Hunter's word to rely on, I should be ashamed to repeat
the story; but Mr. Toppan, being the very man so accosted,
confirms it as related. Here I had given the substantial truth,
which was all I undertook to do; but how widely I had wan-
dered from the circumstantial truth!
I know of nothing to be compared with it, except, perhaps,
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
the solemn declaration of Mr. Henry Ward Beecher, many
times repeated, that he had never used the language ascribed
to him, “ It is d-d hot,” in the pulpit - it being an old story -
about Rowland Hill, which he remembered from his youth;
while a cloud of witnesses declare as solemnly, that they heard
him with their own ears; or his utter forgetfulness, and posi-
tive denial of what he had done a little time before, in his
own pulpit, after employing ten minutes in a running commen-
tary, line by line, of a hymn, as he gave it out — according to
the testimony of a clergyman present.
shows, in a still stronger light, how dangerous it may be for
a conscientious man to depend wholly upon his memory for
particulars, after the lapse of a lifetime.
Not long ago, only a few months indeed, in giving an
account of our painters, for the “ Atlantic,” I had occasion to
relate a diverting incident, which occurred to the younger
Sully, where he was called to account by a patron, for the ill-
fitting of a coat he had painted. I had it from Sully's own
mouth, immediately after his return from Somerset-House,
“white with rage," and I thought I gave it circumstantially,
and almost in his own language ; for his patron said, as I dis-
tinctly remembered, “ Everybody will naturally ask who made
that coat ? ” “ Well, sir, and what then?” said Sully.
“ Why, sir, I made that coat."
Judge of my astonishment, when, two or three weeks after
writing this article, and after it was in type indeed, happening
to be tumbling over some old magazines, I came upon what
was meant for the same story, written by me in August, 1826,
for a London monthly, while the circumstances were all fresh
in my recollection. There it was the Duke of Gloucester,
whose coat had been misrepresented by the painter; and the
painter was not Mr. Robert M. Sully, but Sir William
Beechy! And yet the story, as told then, and as I tell it
110w, was substantially the same, though circumstantially dif-
fering, in the narration. Let this be a warning to narrators,
lest they become at last mere story-tellers, where they have
no idea of embellishing, or misrepresenting the facts, for any-
body's amusement.
SUBSTANTIAL AND CIRCUMSTANTIAL TRUTHS.
273
mouth,” it runs thus: “Mr. R. S. was employed to paint a
portrait for a man, who, when it was done, declared himself
delighted with every part of the picture, save and except one
shoulder of the coat, which did not fit smoothly - I beg his
pardon — wasn't a good fit.' 'Excuse me, sir,' said he, 'I
never shall forget the mortification I felt on going to the
Somerset-House Exhibition, some years ago. The first pic-
ture I saw was a picture of His Royal Highness, the Duke
of Gloucester, by Sir William Beechy. It was a capital
likeness — capital — never saw a better ; but, sir — would you
believe it? -- there was a wrinkle in the coat, sir — just here,
sir — just under the collar. I couldn't take my eyes off it,
sir — a perfect eyesore. I would rather have given twenty
guineas than see it in such a state.' 'Ah!' said Sully, 'ah!
why so?' Why, sir, everybody would naturally ask who
made that coat.' - Well, and what then?" — Why, sir, I
made that coat.' -'You?' --Yes: I-I made that very
coat, sir.'”
And now, if I had the article I wrote for the “ Atlantic”
before me, I would copy the passage purporting to give the
same incident, as if under oath ; but although it is in type,
and the first part was printed two months ago, in the Novem-
ber issue, it will not appear till March next, and is therefore
beyond my reach. I am sure it would go far to reconcile us
to variations and discrepancies, if not to downright contradic-
tions, in testimony; though, as I have said before, the main
fact is never lost sight of, and the essentials are true, in both
cases, according to the best of my knowledge and belief.
And now for another subject. Among the most remarkable
men I met with about this time — remarkable in a small way
- was Mr. John Bowring, afterward Dr. Bowring, and now
Sir John Bowring, the busiest of busybodies, and the
slipperiest. We met, I hardly know how, at the table of
Jeremy Bentham, the philosopher of Queen-Square Place;
and he being a poet, “bekase — he kivered his head with
green baize," like Tom Moore's tailor, and chief editor of
the “ Westminster Review," Southern being the understrap-
per, and having charge of the “ London Magazine,” for which
I also wrote, I took rather a fancy to him. He was a good
deal of a chatterbox, to be sure; but then he had a refined, in-
274
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
tellectual face, a very pleasant manner, and just enough of
modest pretension, to make him an agreeable companion.
We got to be rather intimate, before the season of good-
fellowship was over, and at the desire of Mr. Bentham — “at
the special instance and request of Mr. Bentham," I might
say, in the language of the law — I" undertook, and promised
to" — write an article for the “ Westminster.” I did so, and
it appeared January, 1826, upon the “ United States of
America.” But after I had corrected the proof, my amiable
friend interpolated two or three heterogeneous paragraphs,
without consulting me, and without my knowledge, for a long
absurdly opposed to all my known views and opinions. In
speaking of certain orations by Webster and Everett and
Sprague, I had been careful not to overpraise ; but the
doctor, wishing to appear very familiar with Americans and
American literature, chose to interpolate the following pas-
sage in this my vindication of American writers, where it
should pass for the admission of a native American ; in other
words, to personate, and misrepresent the author. " Violent
exaggeration," said Mr. John Bowring, “is the character of
American literature at the present day, and, compared with
the chaster and more rational style of our best writers, the
style of the North-American authors is usually the rant and un-
meaning vehemence of a strolling Thespian, when placed beside
the calm, appropriate, and expressive delivery of an accom-
plished actor.” A pretty thing for me to say of my leading
fellow-countrymen ! --and a source of cruel misapprehension, to
say nothing of misrepresentation, by a thousand or fifteen hun-
dred newspapers, year after year; till, taking the matter in hand
seriously, I put a stop to it, after my return to Portland.
But, passing over the confusion of thought in the passage
referred to, where the gentleman begins with American
literature, and finishes with American oratory — now dis-
paraging our writers, and now comparing the delivery of our
strolling Thespians with that of accomplished actors, by way
of illustration ; for what knew Dr. John Bowring of the “ rant”
and “vehemence” he complains of, in our writers, and what
of their delivery? - he had never been in America, and,
probably had never heard even an after-dinner speech from an
American.
SUBSTANTIAL AND CIRCUMSTANTIAL TRUTHS.
275
Bear in mind that I had gone over to England to take up
the gagė of battle, offered by the arrogant and supercilious
writers of England; to answer the “Edinburgh Review,” face
to face, where it ventured to say, “ that eloquence and the
power of fine writing were denied by nature to the American
race, and that they have a little Latin whipped into them at
school in their youth, and read Shakspeare, Pope, and Milton,
as well as bad English novels " -- that they do, and have
always done; but there seems to be no help for it, until we
have some respect for ourselves — “in the days of courtship
and leisure.”
And yet, such being my errand, or mission, if you will, this
meddling, gossipping, sly, and treacherous man, had 'the
audacity to put words into my mouth, not only in flat contra-
diction to what I said, but in direct confirmation of what his
unprincipled countrymen had said of us! How could he do
this, and “hope to be forgiven ” ?
Meanwhile, the gentleman had involved me in two other
unpleasant scrapes, owing to my unreasonable confidence in
his professions and assurances; but, before I enter into fur-
ther details, allow me to give a sketch of his personal appear-
ance, taken from life, and published in - Timothy Flint's
Monthly,” for November, 1833. “ Dr. John Bowring is not
far from forty-six”_under forty, therefore, when I knew
him, and if now living, nearly fourscore —" about five feet
nine inches high, of a slender make, with one of the most
poetical faces you ever saw; a capital forehead, lofty, trans-
parent, ample, and serene; a clear sharp nose, with a chin
sufficiently characteristic, though not by any means remark-
able ; a pleasant mouth; and eyes, which, in spite of his
golden spectacles, and the distortion caused by their long use,
are capable of being lighted up, as with inward fire. Add to
this, that his complexion is light, and his hair, if we may trust
our memory, dark-brown, approaching black, and sprinkled
with gray, and you have all that we can remember of the
outward man”; with a general air of refinement and sensi-
bility, though not of high-breeding, I might have added, to
complete the likeness.
The first time I ever saw Dr. Bowring, though I had
always known him by reputation, after his translations from
276
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
the Russ and Polish had appeared, and had long wished to
see him, was at the Argyle-Rooms, London. We were both
listening to a series of lectures in Spanish, French, German,
and Italian, by expatriated natives, introductory to a course in
the several languages mentioned, upon the literature of their
respective countries. There were perhaps fifty other listeners,
not more; though I believe the introductories were all
gratuitous. And this happened in the huge metropolis of
the British empire, at a time of great public sympathy for
the sufferings and sacrifices of the many distinguished men —
outcasts — who had been scattered by the convulsions of
Europe over earth and sea; and after the patronage of John
Bowring, Esq., had been secured; the chief linguist of the age,
according to the newspapers — a laughable mistake, at the
best, - and as these poor strangers had been made to believe,
by certain publishers, of prodigious influence and elevated posi-
tion, among the titled, the literary, and fashionable, if not in the
com wercial world; his position there, as a dealer in French
wines, having been forfeited, by a questionable failure in busi-
ness. One by one, they had arrived, like so many conspirators,
at the place of meeting; and most of them were consigned
to him, only to be disappointed, deceived, and betrayed. At
the suggestion of Mr. Bowring, who meant well enough, but
wanted the courage to deal honestly with them, they were in-
duced to club together, and invest their little all — their
pocket-money -- in one foolish experiment after another, till:
they had nothing left, not even hope; and were finally rescued
from absolute starvation, by a dress-ball, given at the Opera,
House, under the patronage, not of John Bowring, Esq., but of
the Duke of Sussex, and some others. With that, Mr. B. had
nothing to do, beyond appearing, radical though he was, in
a regular built court-dress, and dodging about hither and
thither, like a will o' the wisp, and emphatically announcing
the names of here and there a nobleman, to here and there a
commoner, as he had done a little time before, at the Lord
Mayor's ball. The tickets were a guinea, and there were
probably four thousand persons present, without reckoning
J. B., Esq., who, like the Irishman's spotted pig, kept running
about, so that he couldn't well be counted.
The second scheme for the relief of such men as Prati,
DR. BOWRING.
277
an Italian advocate and fine belles-lettres scholar; the canon
Riego, brother of the great Spanish general, Riego; Desprat,
who gave up his pay to the Spanish Cortes ; the aide-de-camp
of Mina, Castellanos, if my memory serves me; Schnell,
who furnished eloquent, profound, and most extraordinary
papers for the “ Westminster," on Greek literature and the
Orations of Demosthenes, in English, worthy of Jeremy
Taylor himself, though he spoke not a word of any language
but German; Rey, the jurisconsult; Ugo Foscolo, whose
papers for the “Edinburgh" were done into English by Mrs.
Sarah Austin, afterward so greatly distinguished ; Carl
Völker, the gymnast, whom I sent to this country, and
others — the second scheme was to set up a private institution,
for the study of the European languages, laws, and literature,
in copartnership, which turned out a miserable failure; though
it led to the establishment of the London-University, after
renewed loss, mortification, and discouragement, for the con-
spirators and refugees. Of all the schemes projected by
John Bowring, Esq., only one prospered, and that only for a
short season. Völker's Gynmasium, which cost — not John
Bowring, Esq., but Jeremy Bentham — about seven hundred
pounds sterling, or three thousand five hundred dollars.
For a time, and so long as the gymnasium flourished, it was
Bowring's plan, and sustained by Bowring's patronage. But
when it fell through — alas for the kind-hearted, over-credulous
Bentham! - he had to foot the bills.
Since the foregoing was written, I have lighted on a record
which I had entirely forgotten, containing what follows, in
substance, though greatly abridged. It gives a still more un-
sightly appearance to some of the transactions complained of.
In October, 1826, Mr. Bentham desired me to write a
review for the “ Westminster," of a work then just published
in London, a presentation copy of which had been sent by
Lord St. Helens to General Sir Samuel Bentham, for that
purpose. I did not much like the job, having had enough to
do with Mr. John Bowring and Mr. Henry Southern, the two
editors, to know that neither was to be trusted. Neverthe-
less, as I could not well refuse any request of Mr. Bentham,
I promised to read the book, and see Bowring, and let him
understand my views before I put pen to paper; and, if we
278
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
agreed, to review the work. I did so. Mr. Bowring called on
me, and we talked the matter all over. He assented to every
thing, promised every thing; and I went cheerfully to work,
laying out materials enough, and taking pains enough, to pre-
pare a volume. Still, when completed, that there might be
no after-claps, nor misunderstandings, instead of sending it to
him in the usual way, as bargained for, I sent it with a note,
saying, that unless it could be published as written, without
material alterations and omissions, I should like to have it re-
turned. Instead of replying by note, Mr. Bowring called on
me in person, and expressed great satisfaction with the paper,
though he could not agree with me in my view of Mr.
Bentham. “Very well," said I, after a hurried recapitulation
of the arguments I had used, no one of which he understood,
or was capable of understanding, “leave out the whole of
that passage.” Here we were interrupted by the voice of Mr.
Bentham at the door: “ All I ask of you," I added, “is not
to make me say, as you did in my last article, what is con-
trary to my opinion, and what I may have to contradict in
some other journal.” I alluded to the paper, an account of
which you will find on page 274, and to the “ Old Monthly."
“Oh, no! certainly not," was the reply, and here we
parted; the condition being that he should leave out all I had
written - about Mr. Bentham's view of a double legislative
body. Before we parted, he proposed to pay for the paper;
and I consented at last to receive about fifty dollars on ac-
count, being one-third of the amount promised.
Dinner over, and Mr. Bowring gone, Mr. Bentham, with
whom we both dined that day, not having understood our
conversation, asked what the matter was. I told him; and,
after hearing all I had to say against his favorite theory, he
replied that he should tell Bowring to put it in - and to put
it in, too, in my own language, and just as I had written it.
"All he wanted was fair-play,” he said ; “and what he wanted
for himself, he was willing to grant another. If I was right,
he would be glad to find himself in error,” – a pretty thing
to say, but never true; -“ if otherwise, to publish what I said
might lead to a change of opinion with me."
After this, I had another talk with Mr. Bowring, who
agreed to preserve the passage with some such introductory
DR. BOWRING.
279
observation as this : “ We have heard the subject stated so and
so." Here the matter ended, and I heard nothing more of
the review till I got the proof, without copy. Judge of my
amazement, when I found that Mr. John Bowring had not
only omitted whole paragraphs, which he had appeared much
pleased with in conversation, together with all that related
to the examination of Mr. Bentham's views of a legislative
body, but that he had actually taken advantage of a remark
made by me, to introduce an opinion directly in the teeth of
my whole argument, and wholly at war with fact and history
- an opinion that nothing but his extraordinary ignorance
of the subject he had presumed to meddle with, could excuse
for a moment.
I could not bear this, and I told Mr. Bowring so, in a
brief and peremptory note, requiring him to publish the
article as he had promised, or to return it forth with. His
reply was so altogether in character, that it would be doing
both him and myself injustice not to publish it entire:-
- DEAR SIR, — I have not seen the proof of your article,
so you must not understand that it has passed through my
hands in the way it will have to stand. I meant to do this
after you had seen it, and I had received your observations
upon it. You do not say how I have made you say the con-
trary of what you did say. [Charming! say, say, say.7
The W. R. must speak the opinions of the W. Reriewer,
and not the opinions of any individuals, when those opinions
differ from those of the W. R.” [But who the plague was
W. R.? Had the W. R. any opinions upon any subject
apart from J. B. or H. W.? said I to myself.]
"I shall be happy to hear any observations of yours in
writing ; but should your opinion differ from mine, and you
be unable to convince me that mine is wrong, it must be my
opinion (which, in all doubıful cases, I wish to fortify by the
best warrant), that must stand — at least in the W. R.
“Yours ever,
J. BOWRING.”
All very well, if he had not promised beforehand, after
reading the article in manuscript.
To this I replied at length; for it was really high time to
280
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
teach these Quarterly reviewers that I, for one, was not in
the humor to be trified with. To show something of the
temper in which it was written, I give a part :-
"I do not wish the · Westminster Review,' nor the editor
of the Westminster Review,' to be answerable for my opin-
ions. Nor will I be answerable for the opinions of the
• Westminster Review,' or its editor, when they disagree
with mine, especially after stipulating, with due care, that, if
the article I wrote for the W. R. could not be published with-
out material alterations or omissions, it should be returned
to me; and yet, more especially, after being assured that if a
few paragraphs, about which we could not agree, were not
published in the shape I gave them, they should be omitted
altogether, and not published in a contrary shape.
“ You cannot be surprised, I think, at what I have said to
you on receiving the proof, without copy, (see P.S.), of an
article prepared under such circumstances, when I find, that,
after all my care in stipulating beforehand, many alterations
and omissions have occurred -- some that are unintelligible
to me, and some that would be unintelligible to anybody, who
knows much about America, or who had ever read the book
under review; and not only this, but that an opinion, directly
the reverse of mine upon the subject, and the only subject,
upon which you appeared to disagree with me, has been substi-
tuted for my opinion.
“You say, to be sure, that you had not read the proof, and
that I must not understand that it has passed through your
hands in the way it will have to stand; you meant to do
this, after I had read it, and after you had received my
observations --- in writing — upon it: by all which it would
appear, that, after I have written a paper for the W. R., which
has been accepted on my conditions, and after the editor and
I have agreed together concerning it, I am to write another
paper of observations upon it, if I receive such a proof that I
am hardly able to recognize a part of my own writing, on
account of the changes that are made, not in words or phrase-
ology, but in serious thoughtful opinions. Thank God, I have
something else to do.”
Postscript referred to above. My note ran thus:-
DR. BOWRING.
281
"Q. S. P. 24th Nov., 1826.
“ DEAR SIR, -After all my guardedness in stipulating with
you beforehand, you have not only left out the passage I had
agreed to have eliminated, but you have left out one or two
more upon which my conclusions werë founded — conclusions
which would appear absurd, or not intelligible, to those who
know any thing about the matter, if they were unaccompanied
with the process of proof; and you have not only done this,
but you have actually made me say the very reverse of what I
did say.
“Really, I cannot bear this. Will you send me the copy?
It would be quite impossible for me to correct such a proof,
were it otherwise what it should be, without a copy.
“Yours, &c.,
J. N.”
But I must defer the rest of my story, till I have to do with
Mr. Jeffrey, of the “ Edinburgh Review," on the same
subject. See Chapter XVII.
Another example of the gentleman's adroit and plausible
management occurred in the getting up of the “ Westminster
Review.” That was a plan of John Bowring, Esq., to insure
himself a respectable maintenance for life ; and to Mr.
Bentham, the pleasure of providing for it. After it had been
flourishing several years, instead of there being a balance to
the credit of the philosopher of Queen-Square Place, he
found himself out of pocket nearly twenty thousand dollars.
Yet. Mr. Bowring still persisted in carrying it on, for the
welfare of the great human family, the greatest good of the
greatest number," and the glory of Jeremy Bentham, till he or
it should give up the ghost.
Since then, he has appeared as the biographer of Jeremy
Bentham ; and among the pleasant reminiscences therein
recorded, I find two or three, in which he has done me the
honor to misrepresent, or falsify, two or three trivial matters,
not worth mentioning, if they did not go to show the man's
littleness and spitefulness. He makes Mr. Bentham say of
me, that he would as lief have a rattlesnake in his house,
and yet we were always on the most friendly terms. I kept a
journal of his sayings and doings, at his own request, which
was published in 1830, by Wells and Lilly, under the title of
282
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
“ Bentham's Morals and Legislation ;” and not long before his
death, I had, and still have, what I have good reason for
believing was the last private letter he ever wrote, full of
kindness, and eminently characteristic of the philosopher.
Again, Bowring says of my novel, “ Brother Jonathan," that
Bentham declared it to be both extravagant and improbable -
in which, he was not far out of the way — if he had said pre-
posterous, I should have enjoyed the joke, for I had called it
so myself, though I am far from being ashamed of it, as a
whole, even at the age of nearly fourscore — and that the
characters were such as never existed. Yet Mr. Bentham,
who used to doat upon“ Clarissa Harlowe,” and “Pamela," and
“ Sir Charles Grandison," the novels of Richardson in from six
to eight volumes apiece, actually had read to him by his two
secretaries in turn, night after night, and without intermission,
all three of the volumes which I had entitled “ Brother
Jonathan.” I give the language of Mr. Bentham's biographer
from recollection only, not having the book itself to refer to,
and never having seen it but once, and then for a few minutes
only, in the Astor-Library. Of course, therefore, I do not
believe the story, as told by Dr. Bowring; the last letter of
Mr. Bentham, straightforward and affectionate as it was, being
of itself a flat contradiction. But one thing which the
philosopher said of me, according to Dr. Bowring, may be
true ; namely, that I " talked upon all subjects alike, and with
equal confidence.” This sounds like Bentham, and certainly,
with some qualifications, might be taken for truth; for, although
I never chose a subject for discu-sion with Mr. Bentham,
except on one occasion, when I undertook to show that he was
no atheist, whatever he might suppose to the contrary, and
whatever his followers, J. S. Mill and others, might be, and
all our talking was within a very limited range, I felt bound
to maintain my opinions with confidence, if for no other
reason, certainly for this : that he was surrounded with flatter-
ers, among whom John Bowring, Esq., was chief, and would
not bear contradiction from anybody but me, and not always
from me; and, by contradiction, I mean not contradiction in
terms, but a decided difference of opinion, with opposition in
argument. More than once, however, we succeeded in con-
vincing each other; so that we ended the discussion by chang-
ing sides !
· JOHN BOWRING, LL.D., AND JEREMY BENTHAM. 283
But to return. It happened one day, that I was dining
with the philosopher, when a letter was handed in, urging
him to dictate his own life to one of his two secretaries, who
should be enjoined to take it down, faithfully and accurately,
as it fell from their great master's lips. I seconded the prayer
of the writer, who, if I am not greatly mistaken, was Mr. So-
licitor Parkes, of Birmingham, author of the “ History of the
Court of Chancery,” already mentioned ; and so highly com-
plimented by Lord Chancellor Brougham — or Hairy Broom,
as they used to call him, after the Queen's trial — in his
great speech on the abuses of English law (all a rehash of
Bentham, by the way). Mr. Bentham refused, saying he had
no time, though he did nothing after dinner, beyond listening
to “ Brother Jonathan," which he professed to like very much;
and Mr. Doane, the favorite secretary, assured me, that,
for amusement, he would often read the same page over and
over again, till he found the philosopher sound asleep in his bag;
for he always slept in a bag, which fitted him, as the tailors
say, “ like a sack.” But soon after this, I understood from
both secretaries that Mr. Bowring had undertaken to devote
two whole evenings a week to the duty, and right glad were
we all to find it true. Given faithfully, in the very words of
Jeremy Bentham, unclassicalized and unimbellished, it would
be one of the most captivating and instructive books ever
written; but given as it was by his biographer, it became not
only worthless, but pitiable; having hardly enough of Ben-
thamism to distinguish it from Bowringism, except the rattle-
snake story, which was altogether Bowring.
And here a little anecdote occurs to me; one of a score I
might mention about Bowring, to show the warm-hearted, oblig-
ing temper of the man, preparatory for what I have to say of
my own experience with him. A gentleman - Mr White,
of Battersea-Priory - happened to be in Paris at a time when
Mr Bowring was there, who had managed, by his meddling, to
get himself arrested and imprisoned, for a conspirator. A con-
spirator ! — John Bowring, Esq., the inoffensive translator of
Northern Barbarisms into English, a conspirator against the
peace and dignity of the French empire! Really, it was too
good a joke, and quite of a piece with the fright of Dennis the
critic, when he fancied every sail that appeared, a French
284
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
.
government-ship, hovering on the coast, till he might be kid-
napped and carried off; or with the nightmare terrors of J.
J. Rousseau, when he believed all Northern-Europe to be up
in arms for his capture. But so it was. By intermeddling and
chattering; by looking mysterious and significant, and by let-
ting drop now and then, as if by accident, the name of
certain revolutionary outcasts in England, he contrived to
get himself into limbo, or captivated, and shut up in prison ;
where he was confoundedly frightened, and out of which he
was delivered only by the interposition of Mr. Canning, to
whom Mr. Bentham applied for the purpose; declaring at the
time, that poor Bowring meant no harm; and that, if they
would only let him off, he would never do so again, and the
Bourbons might stay where they were, and be hanged to
them!
Mr. White had employed himself in collecting pictures, and
was anxious to get rid of them, as Bowring would of his par-
odies, for originals. Bowring called to see them; saying that
he knew the Duc d'Orleans intimately, and saw him every
day; that his hôtel was like a home for him, that he would
hare a talk with “the duc,” about these paintings, and that
as “the duc” was building a picture-gallery back of his hôtel
at the time, he had no doubt “the duc” would be of great
service to Mr. W., in disposing of the collection, if he wished
to do so. A week or two went by, day after day, and po Mr
Bowring appeared. Mr W., after this, met the Count ,
aide-de-camp of the ducand, in the course of conversation,
made some inquiries about Mr Bowring. The count knew no
such person; and as he was always about the duc, he thought
inquire. He did so; and it turned out that the duc had never
heard the name of Mr. Bowring! This I had from the younger
Sully, who had it directly from Mr. White himself. But the
best of the joke was the idea of fastening a picture-gallery
upon the Duc d'Orleans - the very last of the whole Bourbon
race to indulge in a thing of the sort; a man who went about
the streets of Paris at the time referred to, as a private citizen,
quiet, inobtrusive, and evidently averse to all show.
And now for a word or two of my own experience with John
Bowring, Esq., LL.D., and baronet. Not long after I took
JEREMY BENTHAM.
285
1
up my residence with Mr. Bentham, he wanted me to under-
take what half a dozen others had severally attempted, and
abandoned in despair, after a brief apprenticeship; that is, to
prepare for publication a small work on “ Judicial Evidence,”
in one volume, preparatory to the appearance of the great
work in five volumes, royal octavo, from the unreadable, ten-
times-culled, and refuse notes and memoranda of Mr. Bentham,
since moulded into shape by Mr. John Stuart Mill, and pub-
lished, almost without change or substitution, as the “ Rationale
of Judicial Evidence.”
Not liking to spend months in deciphering the terrible manu-
script of Jeremy Bentham, and quite unwilling to sacrifice
my eye-sight for such an object, I refused, until assured that
one of the secretaries would copy the whole in a fair hand,
without delay; that I should be at liberty to abridge, amend,
transpose, and interpret whatever was unintelligible, at my
pleasure; and that with my habits of steady application, and
fast writing, I should be able to finish it in six or eight weeks,
laboring no more than twelve hours a day, instead of six-
teen.
But long before that time had expired, and before I had
been able to decipher a tenth part of the manuscript, even by
the help of the translation, or copy, which was never completed,
the philosopher took me off to furnish a paper for the “ West-
minster Review," about the United States. And before that
was finished, Mr. Bowring applied to me to undertake a trans-
lation of Mr. Bentham's great work on “ Morals aud Legisla-
tion," promising me two hundred guineas for the job, and
apologizing at the same time, for the inadequacy of the prof-
fered compensation, by stating that, little as it was, it would
be a dead loss, in a pecuniary view; the object being merely
to give Mr. Bentham an opportunity of appearing before the
British public, in a language they were acquainted with. To
all this I agreed, without hesitation, and went to work forth-
with; but, before the job was completed, the blowing-up of
another project, suggested by the amiable and ingenious John
Bowring, whose liberal patronage and philanthropy were not
so well understood at the time, arising out of the Greek loan,
and the exposure that followed in the House-of-Commons, led
me to announce that one volume was completed, and that, if
286
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
agreeable to others, it would be very pleasant for me to touch
a portion of the quid pro quo.
To this very natural proposition, what think you was the
reply of Mr. John Bowring, the contriver and instigator of so
many plans for the encouragement of the industrious, and the
gifted, and for the help of the troubled and impoverished ? A
stare of unqualified astonishment; a brief, anxious, and hurried
look into my eyes; a slight. trembling of the under lip; and
then — would you believe it? — a reluctant avowal that all
he had done was without authority; and that, in short, he would
apply forthwith to Sir Francis Burdett, and Mr. John Smith,
M.P., the banker, and two or three more honest and hearty
admirers of Mr. Bentham; and if they would furnish the
wherewhithal, he should be happy — very happy — nothing
would give him more pleasure than, — to keep his eugagement!
There was but one reply to a proposition of this nature. That
reply was instantly made, and there the negotiation was fin-
ished, for ever. On my return to America, I published a
part of this very translation in the “Yankee,” and then, with
it, a biographical sketch of Mr. Bentham, in a volume already
mentioned.
And how about the Greek loan? Well, Mr. Bowring
was the secretary of a large and influential body of men, called
the Greek Committee. He labored night and day to run up
the stock ; bullying it, and the public, through the journals and
newspapers, and purchasing to the full extent of all his means,
capital, and credit, which, of course, with the Greek Commis-
sioners, was not to be questioned or disparaged; talking on
'Change, by the half-hour, his philhellenism, and prating every-
where about Lord Byron, Colonel Stanhope, and Trelawney;
and blazing forth at public dinners and meetings in a sort of
India-cracker style fizz, fizz! flash and whirr! - about a free
press, and the sacrifices due to that country of “ gods and
godlike men.” Meanwhile, he withheld information, which,
as Secretary of the Greek Committee, he was constantly
receiving, and which, if communicated, would have sent the
stock down to zero — if not something lower. Had he realized,
as we say in America, when it stood highest, he would have
made a fortune; but he held on, till it began to tumble, after
the fashion of other stocks--- the Mississippi-Scheme, the South-
DR. JOHN BOWRING.
287
Sea-bubble, and the French assignats, “ Erie preferred,” and
continental money; and then, off he posted to the Greek depu-
ties --- of whom he had purchased, not long before, at a much
lower figure than the market price, on account of his philan-
thropy and philhellenism, and the services he had rendered, by
puffing the stock — and insisted on their taking it off his hands,
lest he and the munificent Joseph Hume, M.P., another large
speculator, should be under the disagreeable necessity of
abandoning the cause of Grecian liberty for ever. He was a
husband and a father -- he had ruined himself, pledged all
his resources, and exhausted the patience, if not the purses, of
his best friends -- and must be indemnified for all the sacri-
fices he had made, or was ever likely to make — in cash.
What could the poor Greek deputies do, in such a case ? Mr.
Bowring was their Secretary, under pretence of being Secre-
tary of the Greek Committee; while Mr. Hume was not only
a member of the board, but a penny-wise and pound-foolish
member of the House-of-Commons.
They submitted, of course; and what followed ? The
doctor - he was a doctor before he got through with the
business, I believe -- went on doctoring the stock by dilution,
if not by downright watering, as we do here, till it went up
- up-up-up- and finally reached so high a figure, that
he began to have his misgivings, and then to believe that he
had overreached himself; and then he sat down and wrote
another long letter to the Greek deputies, mentioning his
wife and children once more, and recapitulating the sacrifices
he had made, and the disinterested services he had rendered ;
got the whole of it back again at the old price, and thereby
cleared something more than ten thousand pounds, or fifty
thousand dollars, by his philanthropy and disinterestedness.
For these transactions he was called to account by the
“ Times” and “ Morning Chronicle," which was then
edited by a personal friend of his, a thorough-going Ben-
thamite and radical, Mr. Black; by the former, as a political
firebrand pitched into the radical camp, alongside of their
great powder-magazine, the 6 Westminster Review ;” and
by the latter, because the question had to be answered, and
could not be shirked.
· Had the doctor come out manfully, and acknowledged the
288
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
.
..
truth, like a shrewd, calculating merchant, justifying the
whole as a fair business transaction, and not as a quib-
bler and shuffler, nor as a philanthropist, there the matter
would have ended, as it did with Mr. Hume, who, when
he was called to account in the House-of-Commons, for his
share in the transaction, owned up at once; and, by way of
justification, proposed to refer it to a committee of the House,
who were to decidė, in substance, whether the watch he car-
ried was honestly come by or not. And there the matter
was dropped ; and the Scotch member went scot-free with
his depredations.
Bat Bowring wanted manliness; and, after denying the
appeared in the papers, and to me personally - so that I
was prevented from examining the charge, till it was too late
- and after I had undertaken his defence, with a feeling of
righteous indignation, relying wholly upon his solemn assur-
ance that there was no foundation whatever for the charge,
and no truth in the several specifications, I had to give up, at
last, and acknowledge that they had all been substantiated
by unquestionable evidence. Judge of my mortification !
So much for the short-sightedness of genius. For the
sake of a few paltry hundreds a year to himself, he puts
Jeremy Bentham, his best friend and most unwearied bene-
factor, to the charge of thousands for the 66 Westminster
Review ;” for the sake of appearing as a patron of Carl
Völker, he gets up a gymnasium, which, in less than a
twelvemonth I should say, cost poor Bentham, at a time
when he could ill afford it, over thirty-five hundred dollars ;
countrymen into a disastrous, and almost ruinous speculation
in the Greek loans, where hundreds of thousands were lost,
in consequence of misrepresentation and concealment.
Of his translations — or paraphrases — I am inclined to think
highly. He has a delicate ear, and the music is preserved ;
the rhythmical beat of the original, and the thoughts,
where they are on a level with the higher efforts of the trans-
lator's imagination. But, beyond this, they are of necessity
both feeble and false ; and we may easily measure the alti-
tude, as well as the length and breadth, of Dr. John Bow-
DR. JOHN BOWRING.
289
ring's imagination, as a translator, by his own original pieces.
The burning passion, the overflowing pathos and tender-
ness, the terrible sublimity of the great northern bards, were
untranslatable by him, and, I'might say, for him ; though he
had always a native to do the rendering into prose of what
he translated into verse. The way he managed was this.
He would take the original, work it over in his own mind,
get full of his author, and then sit down and consult diction-
aries and natives, and give, not line for line, nor even page
for page, but the whole in a lump, as it were, in his own lan-
guage, observing every peculiarity of measure, with a good
degree of success. Having allowed him this merit, I am
obliged to stop: human charity can go no further ; for, as
to the merit of authorship, if authorship means originality of
thought or expression, I hold him to be about on a par with
those who take watches to pieces and put them together
again for smoke-jacks. Just now I see that he is bringing
out a Chinese novel, “ translated by Sir John Bowring."
But stay: I must give a sample of this man's original
poetry, if only to show how desperate and hopeless an under-
taking it was for him, to think of representing worthily - of
personating indeed, in the face of heaven and earth, and be-
fore all the nations — the giants of the stormy and illustrious
North. I take it from his “ Lines written at Sea :”
" When the bark by a gentle wind is driven,
And the bright sun dances in the heaven,
Up and down as the rocking boat,
Upon the ridgy waves duih float
. . . . 'tis sweet to move
Gladly from one to another strand,
Guided by some invisible hand."
His “ Matins and Vespers” – a wishy-washy rendering of
Dr. Witschel's “Morgen und Abend,” faintly acknowledged
to be not altogether his own — is, on the whole, the largest
outlay of originality he has ever indulged in.
Two or three more illustrations of the gentlemau's ver-
satility, as an editor and reviewer will finish the picture I
have been sketching from life.
A stranger and a scholar, whose translations from the
German were unequalled, being applied to by Mr. Henry
290
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Southern, assistant editor of the “Radical,” or at least very
liberal 6 Westminster," for a paper, sent him one which
Bowring and Southern were delighted with. After a while,
and before it got into type, further consideration led these
great champions of reform to think it a little too bold, and
likely to be unpalatable to his Majesty of Prussia ; and so it
was returned to the writer, with a suggestion, that, on the
whole, perhaps, it was a little too liberal even for the “ West-
minster Review.” And yet, that very paper, after a touch
or two of the scissors, and the alteration of a single paragraph
or so, was then offered to the “ Quarterly," the great, illiberal
66 Quarterly," accepted, and published ! So much for editorial
courage and professional editorship over sea; and so much
for profession itself!
Another case, and I have done. Mr. Solicitor Parkes, of
Birmingham, already referred to more than once, wrote an
article for the “ Westminster Review," which was accepted
by Southern, who, after consultation with others, notified Mr.
Parkes that the paper was a little too strong, and would have
to be boned. Not long after, Mr. Parkes was asked if he had
any objection to let so much as did not appear in the “ West-
minster” go into the “London Magazine," of which Mr.
Southern was the managing editor and co-proprietor. Mr.
Parkes said, "No." Whereupon, the next" London Magazine"
came out with the best part of the whole article — the plums
and the flavoring - but so unhappily divided, that a note
which Mr. Parkes had written, and put Dr. Kitchener's name
to, just for fun, as a recipe for making Tory-History, was
actually dislocated from the text, and put into the last part
of that very number, as a bonâ fide recipe by Dr. Kitchener!
6 The remainder of the article, reduced to one and a half
sheets, will appear,” said Mr. Southern, “in the Westminster
Review ;'" “ And as Dr. Lingard has been replied to, since
the article was prepared, that reply to Dr. Lingard," said a
friend, “ will probably be annexed to something else, for the
• Westminster Review,' and worked up with the balance of
your paper.” Two or three personal sketches here, if you
please.
About this time, I became acquainted with Mr. Rowland
Hill, now Sir Rowland, and his brother, in consequence of
JOHN STUART MILL.
291
their labors in the cause of education at “ Hazlewood-School"
-imitated here, with great success, at Round-Hill, North-
ampton, where the system of self-government was faith-
fully tried for a season. Both were sons of Rowland Hill,
the preacher -- so famous for eccentricity, boldness, faith-
fulness, and sterling good-sense, anticipating Mr. Spurgeon
and Mr. Beecher by half-a-hundred years. To the elder, we
are indebted for the penny-postage in England, as well as for
the penny ha’penny postage here. His notions were large and
wholesome, and of such a character for good sense and
adaptability, as to be carried out all the sooner for being
universally decried or laughed at, from the first. And now,
as a natural off-shoot from the original idea of this honest-
hearted, sober-minded man, we are to have cheap ocean-
postage and a cheap telegraph. In this way, and out of such
apparently trivial changes, the greatest benefactors of the
humau race are made. Long before I left England, Mr.
Hill presented me with a hundred copies of his book, on the
Hazlewood system, for distribution here; and I foresaw then,
much of what has happened since, in the large and liberal,
and comprehensive purposes of the man. In his view, we
were all God's children; and if not all members of the great
household of faith, at least brethren.
He was about the average size and weight of well-to-do
Englishmen, with a fine, large head, a pleasant countenance,
and agreeable, unpretending manner, hearty and sincere, but
no talker.
Another person I knew of the same type, Mr. Black,
editor of the “ Morning Chronicle.” He reminded me not
only of Mr. Hill, but of Oliver Goldsmith and of Paul
Allen, in his plainness of speech, good sense, and simplicity ;
while, in shrewdness, foresight, and the unrelenting grasp of a
mind that feels its strength, and knows how to employ it,
and what it is capable of, and what it was intended for, two
out of the three, Oliver and Paul, were the merest children,
in comparison.
Another was Mr. George Grote, the banker, and historian
of Greece, a somewhat heavy-moulded, benevolent-looking
man, of dignified, quiet, and agreeable manners, and great good
sense, but slow of speech ; and, but for his wife, a woman of
292
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
fine talents and ambitious temper, who used to write for the
“ Westminster Review," utterly incapable of what he has
at last accomplished in the world of literature; not far
from forty when I knew him, with a large head, fine dark
thoughtful eyes, a capacious forehead, and the bearing, not so
much of a high-bred gentleman as of a man, who, while he
respects himself, in a quiet way, respects others yet more,
and, sometimes, whether they deserve it or not. He belonged
to a club of debaters, which met in Mr. Bentham's roof,
and, after a while, at the Free Mason's Tavern ; yet I never
heard him open his mouth but once in debate, and then only
for two or three minutes, in a conversational tone. He was
a sincere Benthamite, nevertheless, and actually prepared
from the manuscript hieroglyphics of that philosopher a work
entitled “ Analysis of the Influence of Natural Religion on
the Temporal Happiness of Mankind," which appeared in
1822, under the name of Philip Beauchamp, and was pub-
lished by that hugest blasphemer of the day, R. Carlyle.
But by far the most remarkable man I met with over
sea, often enough and intimately enough to understand him in
all his bearings, was the individual who has since become the
political economist, the metaphysician, the logician — I had
almost said the statesman - John Stuart Mill. Cunning,
timid, politic, without originality, wholly destitute of imagina-
tion, enthusiasm, and warmth, all which he stigmatized as
different degrees of sentimentality, and, but for his wife, a man
who would have lived and died with no more heart than a
sphyux or a syllogism, he has managed, nevertheless, by bor-
rowing largely from others, and especially from Bentham, as
did his father before him in his “ British India,” where the ac-
count of Warren Hastings's trial is taken altogether from
Bentham, even to the language — to establish for himself a
reputation well worth living for.
His logic was the logic of Jeremy Bentham, and of nobody
else, with a few unimportant changes ; and so were his meta-
physics. Of Bentham, he learned to question the attributes,
and being of God, though never willing to be called an
atheist, but only, at the worst, a free-thinker and philosopher.
But his want of moral courage I foresaw, while he was yet
a beardless boy in appearance - hardly out of his teens —
JOHN STUART MILL.
293
and, if really over two and twenty, looking as if not more
than eighteen, with a small head, light-brown hair, a girlish
face, and a boyish manner --would lead him into some dreadful
scrape at last, notwithstanding his uncommon talent of a
certain kind — that of a drudge and assayer, and his excessive
caution and craft; and so it turned out. Having satisfied
himself that breeding of any kind was to be discouraged —
as Tom Moore said of him in other and better language —
he went to work and prepared for circulation, and then cir-
culated, far and wide, through the rural districts and among
the shifting population of London, a little paper which repre-
sented as perfectly safe a certain cheap contrivance for pre-
venting conception, both before and after marriage; and had
a narrow escape from a disgraceful prosecution, which Moore
availed himself of, by an epigram, that must have burned
into the man's flesh, if he had any, like a red-hot iron.
Before this, however, although his finger-prints were on
the margin of the proof, he had positively denied to me all
agency, and all participation in the dastardly and treacherous
manœuvre which I have already mentioned as the work
chiefly of John Bowring, Esquire, LL.D. — by virtue of a
Dutch diploma, for translating a few Dutch verses into what
passed in Holland, not only for English, but for English poetry.
Long after this, and within the last two or three years, we
find the gentleman getting ambitious, or, as Robert Walsh,
Junior, the “ American gentleman," thought proper to say of
President Madison, “presuming to be ambitious," and soon
after successful, so far as to become a member of parliament,
without contributing a penny — from principle, of course —
to the cost of his own election; and, again, we hear of him
as a candidate, and trying to make speeches, and failing, of
course, as he always must, notwithstanding his acknowledged
even of artificial, warmth and earnestness. Demonstrations,
axioms, and syllogisms are not speeches, and are never
listened to with patience, nor ever understood by the people,
when they are announced from the platform, and without
even a show of earnestness.
In the heat and hurry of the late canvass, we find him
seriously questioned about his religious belief; but instead of
294
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
answering, “ That is none of your business,” and stopping
there, as he might well have done, without losing caste,
or his own self-respect, or the respect of others; instead of
owning up to what he made no secret of, when I knew him, he
answered with a special plea, just as Bowring did, when called
to account for his dealing with the Greek-Commissioners
about the Greek loan, and refused to answer, lest he should
make a precedent for all eternity. As if any man who
believes any thing, has a right to withhold the acknowledg-
ment of his belief, when seriously questioned ! As if, in a
matter of so much consequence to himself, he has a right to
shufile or evade the inquiry; or refuse to answer even an
impertinent question, for such a reason! How much better to
say, “ Hands off! I do not choose to answer; nor will I
condescend to give my reasons for not answering. Let us do
as we like, and, when the pinch comes, take the consequences."
But no ! such plain-dealing is not in Mr. Mill's way. He
would call it sentimentality, and being of those who “never
take their tea without a stratagem,” and who prefer to gain
their ends, by overreaching or outwitting others, he has
succeeded at last in cutting his own throat from ear to ear,
with a dull pocket-knife, and will most likely never be heard of
more, in public life.
In his book on liberty, which, instead of being a diluted
tincture, like portions of the “Rationale of Judicial Evidence,"
is but another decoction of concentrated Benthamism, he
acknowledges the inspiration of his wife. When I knew him,
he was not only incapable of acknowledging, but éven
of feeling, obligation to anybody. Hence I infer that she was
really a woman of great power, and of uncommon worth; and
although I do not believe what he says of her judgment and
sweet influence, taking the whole of that dedication for a
sentimental flourish, still I must say that she appears to have
humanized him; and that, on the whole, having satisfied him
that he was a creature of flesh and blood, and not an icicle, nor
an abstraction, inert and lifeless, I am sorry she did not live long
enough to prevent his making a fool of himself, by such a
pitiful subterfuge as I have mentioned
But enough on this head, or these heads; too much
perhaps —- now that we are all so near the end of our pilgrimage.
SUBSTANTIAL AND CIRCUMSTANTIAL TRUTHS.
295
And yet, why should we not be allowed to know the truth of
such men as I have sketched ? No matter how greatly they
may have been misunderstood, or undervalued, or overvalued,
truth is always better and safer than falsehood, in the long-
run. I do not say in religion or morals only, but in every
thing — in politics and state-craft, as well as in controversy,
diplomacy, and negotiation. The truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth, if you please!
296
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER XVII.
MR. JEFFREY AND THE “EDINBURGH REVIEW.”
OUR CORRESPONDENCE; AND WHAT FOLLOWED; MR. JOHN AUSTIN; HIS
WIFE; HER FIRST LITERARY ADVENTURE; JEREMY BENTHAM, A GIGANTIC
MYTH; HIS EDITOR DUMONT; DUMONT'S CONNECTION WITH MIRABEAU;
SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY; BESTHAM'S HOUSEKEEPER; HE BRINGS HEK TO
TERMS; CHANGES EVERYWHERE IN LEGISLATION AND JURISPRUDENCE;
CIVIL AND CRIMINAL PROCEDURE; ALL OWING TO BEXTHAM; AARON
BURR; SUMNER LINCOLN STARFIELD; MR. PELBY THE ACTOR; MR COKE
OF NORFOLK, AFTERWARD EARL OF LEICESTER; JOHN DUNY HUNTER;
CHESTER HARDING AND HIS FIRST PORTRAITS.
Dec. 30, '68. Before I leave England, let me finish with
the reviewers, who would have finished me, if I had not with-
I sent the flying shuttles hither and thither, across the ocean,
like so many ships, weaving a tissue that should bind both
hemispheres, even closer than the Atlantic telegraph itself.
I was now very pleasantly situated with Mr. Bentham, who
prevailed upon me to stay over till the next year, 1827, when
he promised to go with me to the German Spa, though I was
anxious to begin' what I intended to be, at last, a pretty
thorough sort of a grand tour, afoot and alone, if nothing
happened to change my views. I had now enough to do for
the monthlies and quarterlies, and was well paid for my
work.
Just then it was, that I had the misunderstanding with the ·
6 Westminster Review," and its editors, the result of which
was, that, as I would not consent to the alterations, and
changes, and insolent substitutions of the editor, my last
article did not appear. I got possession of it, however, and
kept it until a few weeks before my departure for Paris, very
unexpectedly, I must acknowledge, as will appear in detail
hereafter, when it occurred to me that I would send it,
unchanged, to the “ Edinburgh.” I knew, of course, that, if
MR. JEFFREY AND THE “EDINBURGH REVIEW." 297
I had the time, I could make it more acceptable to Mr. Jeffrey ;
but I was hurried to death by business-affairs, and tired to
death of reviewers and editors. They were, with a few
exceptions, a set of prevaricating, shuffling, heartless block-
heads, or knaves, and sometimes both. Mr. Jeffrey kept the
paper, as he had some others, which had been sent him by a
very dear friend of mine (Mrs. Sarah Austin), without either
publishing it, or paying for it. In the mean time, the "North-
American Review » arrived, with an article on this very book,
which, though little to the purpose, on some accounts, gave to
à part of what I said, especially of Roger Williams and Lord
Baltimore, the appearance of having been prepared by the
same writer. I was vexed by the delay, and wrote Mr. Jeffrey
to return the article ; and I was the more in earnest, being
about to leave the country, and having a right to expect from
one to two hundred dollars for it. But I received no answer.
I wrote again : still no answer. At last, being ready to go,
and having lost all patience with the gentleman — afterward
Lord Jeffrey — I sent him the following very respectful note,
as you must acknowledge, remembering, as I did so, that he
had once treated Mr. Mill, author of “ British India.” in the
same way, keeping a paper that Mr. Mill had sent him, and
neither paying him for it, nor publishing it. Of course,
representing the brotherhood — and I might say my country
- for every man who goes abroad represents his country,
whether he will or no -- he cannot help it, and his country is
judged of by such representation — I was not in the humor to
be trifled with, and wrote as follows:-
“Q. $. P., 14th April, 1827.
“ To FRANCIS JEFFREY, ESQUIRE, &c., &c.
“Sir, —You are reputedly the editor of the “Edinburgh
Review. If so, I look upon you as answerable to me for the
parcel I sent you some months ago. I have paid postage
enough about this matter, and others in which I had 110
· interest; and as I have now given up the idea of going to
Scotland, where I should have taken the trouble to say to you
what I am now obliged to write, I must beg, not as a matter
of favor, but of common decency and common honesty, that
you will return the article I sent you.
298
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
“Whatever other people may do, I choose to hold an editor
answerable, as I do other men, for a breach, either of courtesy
or good faith.
“I shall soon be in America. I leave this country for the
continent, to-morrow; and, in America, I shall expect to
receive the article in question.
“ Yours with respect,
J. N.
“Address to care of — , Baltimore, Md.”
This brought my gentleman to his senses, and two or three
months after my arrival in America, I received, with the
manuscript, the following answer :-
“ Edinburgh, 18th April, 1827.
“ SIR, — The printed paper prepared for the · Westminster
Review, with the manuscript additions, to which I under-
stand your letter of the 14th refers, were this day despatched
for Liverpool, to be forwarded to your address at Baltimore,
Md.
“I must confess, I see but slender grounds for the tone of
impatience and resentment you assume in the letter. That an
article withdrawn from one journal should not be instantly
inserted in another, really does not appear to me to be a very
reasonable cause, either of surprise or complaint. [Here the
Lord-Advocate betrays himself: my complaint was not that
the paper had not been instantly inserted, but that he did not
answer my letters, nor return the paper ; but he continues..
“ The truth is, that I thought favorably, on the whole, of the
paper, and was inclined to admit it, though only with some
retrenchments and variations, upon which my recent ill health
and many avocations prevented me from consulting you. I am
not aware that, till the letter I am now answering, I have
received any request of yours to have the paper returned, or
indeed any inquiry with regard to it. How common decency,
or common honesty, are concerned in all this, I really am
unable to comprehend.
" I understand as little what you refer to, as to expense of
postage. But as I never dispute in pecuniary matters, I beg
MR. JEFFREY AND THE “EDINBURGH REVIEW." 299
leave to say, that whatever you please to claim upon this head
shall be instantly paid to any person you appoint.
“I have the honor to be, sir,
“ Your very obd’t seryant, &c.,
“ FRANCIS JEFFREY."
All so gentlemanly and proper, notwithstanding the false
issue tendered, that, as I had never heard of his illness, and
had no idea that my letters had miscarried — for why
should they ? — I wrote him a handsome apology; and there
the affair ended, somewhat like the duel between Mr: Jeffrey
and Tom Moore, when it was found, according to Byron, that
the pistols were without balls — the lead having gone to their
brains; a foolish joke, for nobody questioned the courage of
either. But then 5 poor dear Byron" had still something to
forgive, notwithstanding his “ British Bards and Scotch
Reviewers.'
Let me add here, that the article in question appeared in
the “ Yankee,” September, 1828, just as it was written, word
for word.
Another case referred to by me in the foregoing correspond-
ence with Mr. Jeffrey, was that of Mrs. Sarah Austin, wife
of John Austin, the barrister, author of sundry articles on
Jurisprudence, in the “Encyclopædia Britannica," which,
though on several accounts, little better than a re-arrange-
ment of Bentham, was received by the best thinkers of the
day with a shout of welcome.
Mrs. Austin, whose delightful work on Germany our people
are but just beginning to get acquainted with, said to me one
day, with tears in her eyes, before she was known as a writer,
that she must do something with her pen, to earn a little
money; all that her husband could earn, together with the
allowance made by her father, Mr. Taylor, of Norwich, and
by Mr. Austin's father, not being enough to make them com-
fortable. They had only one child — now Lady Duff Gor-
ton, whose beautiful translations of the “ Amber Witch," and
of the “ French in Algiers,” we are all acquainted with a
tall, spirited, slender girl, with wonderful eyes, of thirteen or
so; but so straitened were they in their circumstances, that
they should look upon the advent of another as quite a seri
ous calamity.
300
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
But what should she do? A woman of acknowledged tal-
ent, highly accomplished, and in perfect health — was it to be
endured that she should be dependent on such precarious con-
tingencies ? I said no, with great emphasis; and then she
showed me a manuscript of Spanish phrases, prepared by her,
for publication. Of course, having gone so far, it was no time
to disparage the undertaking; but I counselled her to write
for the magazines and quarterlies. 'My proposition frightened
her. She actually trembled; such a thing was not to be
thought of. She had no confidence in herself, she said. I
knew better: nevertheless, I proposed translations ; and
after a while, an opportunity occurred for translating some of
Ugo Foscolo's admirable essays, for the “Edinburgh.” I wrote
them, and neglected to answer my letters of inquiry, for a
long tiine; thougli, if I remember aright, her articles were
afterward published in that journal, or in some other, and
opened a way for her to the distinction she soon after
obtained. It was to this I referred, after speaking of Mill's
case, in the last chapter.
Having so often mentioned Jeremy Bentham in the progress
of my story, perhaps it would be well to give some account
of that extraordinary man, though it may be for the hun-
dredih time, taking care not to resay what I have said before.
Before I went abroad, I was familiar with Mr. Bentham's
published works, but supposed him to be a Frenchman, as all
I had met with, except his “Morals and Legislation, and the
6 Defence of Usury," were written in French. Nobody to
whom I applied, not even Professor Hoffman, of the Mary-
land University, nor John Pierpont, who were among his
most enthusiastic admirers, could give me any information
worth having, about the man himself, or his works.
After my arrival in England, I continued my inquiries, but
found the “ Philosopher of Queen-Square Place" little better
than a myth. Nobody knew him, nobody had seen him, and
nobody knew where to find him ; nobody, that is, of whom I
inquired. Judge of my surprise, therefore, when I received
an invitation from Mr. R. Doane, his secretary, to a dinner at
the “ Hermitage,” as they called it, on Queen-Square Place,
Westminster, opening into St. James's Park.
JEREMY BENTHAM.
301
I went; and the consequence was, after two or three capital
dinners had been digested, that I was installed, without cere-
mony, though with decided emphasis, in the apartments occu-
pied not long before by Aaron Burr, and then by Fanny
Wright.
“Why are most of your works” -- all I had been ac-
quainted with in America, except the earliest issue of his
Morals and Legislation, and the Defence of Usury - "pub-
lished in French ?" I asked, one day, when we were talking
about his Théorie des Peines et des Récompenses, taken
from the manuscripts of Jeremy Bentham, by Et. Dumont,
which I had proposed to translate into English before I
left America, but could find no publisher willing to pay
even two hundred dollars for the job — all I asked — though
there were two large octavos, containing 942 pages of close
print, with notes.
“ Because,” he answered, “I wrote most of them in
French.”
" But why in French ? "
“ Because, in writing French, I was not so painfully sensi-
ble of the inadequacy of language, as when writing English.”
And this, from the man who had written a “ Defence of
Usury," so wonderful for its clearness, beauty, and precision,
that it was attributed to Lord Mansfield himself, when it first
appeared ; and a "Fragment on Government,” wherein he took
not a few of the Law-Magnates by the ears, and fairly boned
Blackstone, till there was little or nothing left of him, but the
stuffing.
But who was Dumont? And how came he to be rummag-
ing Bentham's manuscripts and other treasures, until he had
produced no fewer than eight large octavos, of the highest
authority over all Europe, in the most beautiful French, and
so logically arranged, that every new volume seemed to be
naturally evolved from the foregoing, like the banyan tree,
which no sooner touches the soil, than it takes root and
springs up anew. In the “Life of Sir Samuel Romilly,"
written by himself, part II., he says, while speaking of Mira-
beau, “ The address of the National Assembly to the King for
the removal of the troops — an address which was adopted the
moment that Mirabeau proposed it, and which produced so
great an effect - was entirely written by Dumont."
302
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
And again, “ The last of Mirabeau's letters to his constitu-
ents, one of the most eloquent compositions in the French
language, was also Dumont's. Its extraordinary success sug-
gested the idea of publishing a regular journal, and not under
Mirabeau's name; but which, from the great talents dis-
played in it, was generally supposed to be written by him,
and he was too proud of the performance to deny it.”
Sir Samuel gives other anecdotes of Mirabeau's unprin-
cipled plagiarism and piracy, which he seems rather disposed
to forgive, or at least overlook, though by no means to jus-
tify. And among others, one, where a retort by Dumont,
“ Membre du conseil représentant et souverain de Genève,"
so struck Mirabeau, that he transferred it to a session of the
National Assembly; and putting the remark into the mouth
of Mounier, and claiming the retort for himself, in debate, as
instantaneous and overwhelming, actually published it in the
journal referred to, “ Le Courrier de Provence," as a matter
of fact, though nothing of the sort had ever happened in the
Assembly, and there were half a dozen persons alive, who
knew when, where, and how it did happen. But what did
he care? It was believed, notwithstanding the testimony of
M. Mounier himself.
“ Mirabeau represents Mounier as saying, in the National
Assembly, that it was corruption which had destroyed Eng-
land; and himself, as very happily turning that extravagant
hyperbole into ridicule, by exclaiming, upon the important
news so unexpectedly communicated to the Assembly, of the
destruction of England, by asking when, and in what form,
that remarkable event had happened.” Sismondi confirms
most of all this.
Dumont was born and educated at Genevå. He was also:
in process of time, pastor of a Protestant Church at St.
Petersburgh. Lord Lansdowne applied to Romilly, a stran-
ger at the time, about sending for Dumont to become the
tutor of his son, Henry, the youngest, afterward Marquis of
Lansdowne, says Sir Samuel; and the late Dr. Vaughan,
of Hallowell, Me., corroborated the substance of what Sir
Samuel testified to, and from his own personal knowledge.
Such was Dumont; the man, above all others, to whorn the
great and good Bentham is chiefly indebted for the prodigious
(D
JEREMY BENTHAM.
303
reputation he now enjoys, throughout the world, among rulers,
philanthropists, statesmen, lawgivers, and lawyers. « Noth-
ing.” Dr. Parr used to say, “nothing since the appearance of
Bacon's Novum Organum,' is to be compared with Bentham's
• Morals and Legislation."" And Dr. Parr was right; al-
though even his “ Morals and Legislation, as it first appeared
in English, would never have been studied or cared for, but
for Dumont's admirable translation into French, and his re-
arrangement of the whole in three large octavos, whereby the
system, and the laws of mind regulating that system, as first
announced by Bentham, iu language not easily understood by
the common reader, became as clear as crystal, and compact
as adamant.
The jokes of Sydney Smith, the fibs and laughable exag-
gerations of Captain Parry, and the wicked fun of Christo-
pher North, had got such possession of the public mind, that
nothing was too strange for belief, when told of the "white-
haired Sage,” as Bowring called him. That he did much, and
said more, to justify some of the notions that prevail, cannot
be denied. His whimsies and extravagances were so out of
the common way, that, really, it is no wonder sometimes, that
he passed for a “gray-haired lunatic," out for exercise, or try-
ing to escape from his keepers, when the simple truth was,
that instead of taking his "post-prandial vibration," as he
called it, in his “work-shop,” or up and down, and hither and
thither in his garden, which was the largest that opened into
the Park, he cantered off, with his white hair flying in the
wind, and his secretary following, on his way through Charing-
Cross and Fleet-Street, to the annuity-office, where he had to
report himself, in person, and account for having outlived all
their calculations. He was now in his seventy-eighth year,
and lived till June 6, 1832 ; being past eighty-five at the time
of his death.
We were always on the best of terms, notwithstanding a
sore trial he was subjected to by no fault of mine, just before
he gave up the idea of going to Germany with me, and I went
over to Paris, without him, in 1826.
He had a fat, elderly woman, for housekeeper, who knew
all his humors and fancies, and for thirty years had ministered
to both. But she was absolute and tyrannical. The secre-
304
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
taries were constantly complaining of her behavior to them
and others, and Mrs. Sarah Austin told me that she was
almost afraid to come to the house; that Miss Fanny
Wright, and Mrs. George Grote, and others, had been actually
driven away; and that nobody had the courage to tell Mr.
Bentham how his friends were treated by this virago. What
should I do? I had made all my preparations for going to
Paris, within a month; but so much of his comfort depended
upon the few friends he had left, and they were so unwilling
to have me go without first enlightening him on the subject,
that, one day, I took advantage of something which had just
occurred between her and the two secretaries, and after tell.
ing him that I should soon be off to Paris, and, though he
remonstrated, that nothing could induce me to change my
determination, I went into the subject, and stated, not only
what I had been told by others, but what I myself had been
a witness of, in her behavior to his secretaries, who had grown
up under his roof. I made no complaint for inyself, though I
might have done so, with propriety; for she had amused her-
self one day, in bawling at me, with the windows wide open,
across a long court-yard, calling me a nasty Yankee, by innu-
endo, and insinuating that I had the philosopher under my
thumb, and was managing to get possession of all his property
- after death, I inferred, though she did not say so. Of
course, I said nothing of all this, though it was what had de-
termined me to “ clear out” immediately, without so much as
saying, “ by your leave.”
He grew thoughtful, when I mentioned what had happened
in my presence to the two secretaries, and seemed to think
there must be something else at bottom; but I evaded the
inquiry, as he had over and over again begged me to keep
him informed, if the servants were guilty of any misbehavior,
or any neglect, or if they did not do whatever I desired,
promptly and respectfully. But why say this to me, unless
he had been troubled before with such complaints, from guests
or visitors ? For myself, I must acknowledge, that, with the
single exception I have mentioned, I had nothing to complain
of, and that I kept to myself. Yet, such was the general
neglect of the servants, that I should have left him, long
before, but for my unwillingness to give such a reason; and
bir any he and res led be
JEREMY BENTHAM.
305
really, I had no other to give, until I found his health so much
better, that the idea of going to the German Spa was aban-
doned.
At this time, I was employed on an abridgment, or synopsis,
of all the cases in Comyns's Digest, relating to the subject-
matter of his code, suspending, at his urgent desire, my labors
on “ Judicial Evidence.” Having completed this, and men-
tioned all that appeared to me necessary, about the misbe-
havior of his servants, I found, that, unless I told the whole
truth, it would be likely to do little or no good. But why
between the dear old master and a favorite housekeeper, of
thirty years' standing - when he, pay what he might, would
never be likely to find another to fill her place. And yet, his
friends - his real friends - expected it of me. They were
treated with rudeness, the women especially, and they knew
that nobody would ever be his guest a second time, unless
there should be a change. He ought to know it: that
seemed clear. But who should tell him? They were afraid
of the unthankful office; but I was going away, and for ever.
On me, therefore, the ungracious duty seemed to devolve.
Soon after I had reached this conclusion, a good opportunity
occurred.
The old woman, not satisfied with letting us the two sec-
retaries and myself - ring for breakfast, or for any thing else
we wanted, till our arms ached, had taught the other servants
to disregard the bell. This, I could not and would not bear;
so, the very first time I had occasion to ring a second time, I
rang without stopping, till they came. This brought up, first,
a girl, who played a trick with our tea; and then the house-
keeper, who berated not only the secretaries, but myself, in
the rudest manner. You would have thought her the mis-
tress of some low, country ale-house. I desired her to leave
the room. She refused. I repeated my desire in the shape
of a peremptory order ; but instead of obeying, she set her
arms akimbo, and plumped into a chair; whereupon I told
her, that if she did not instantly get up and walk out of the
room, as I bade her, I would pitch her down the cellar-stairs,
head-first, chair and all. She was a large, robust, vulgar
woman; but I took hold of the chair in earnest, and she
20
306
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
heard it creak. She was frightened, most likely, at what she
had seen me do at our garden gymnasium, from her windows,
and jumped up; and I succeeded, by putting my hand first on
one shoulder, and then on the other, in waltzing her out of
the room, without any further trouble. But my mind was
now made up. I went straightway to Mr. Bentham, and told
him that I was obliged to leave him at once, and why; that
after I was gone, she might be managed perhaps ; at any rate,
I must go. He begged me to delay, till he had some alterna-
tive to offer. I could not refuse; and the result satisfied me
that, if he lacked energy in trifles, he certainly did not in
serious matters ; for to him, at his great age, and with his
peculiar habits, what could be more trying than the departure
of an old, and, I dare say, faithful, housekeeper? But he was
firm. Having inquired of the two secretaries, who were pres-
ent all the time, and who were able to say much more than I
did, he gave her and the other immediately concerned the.
choice of making a satisfactory apology to me, or of leaving
his service that very day at four o'clock. I remonstrated, but
in vain. The waiter-girl submitted, and was retained. The
housekeeper said no; and she was packed off, bag and bag-
gage, though she told him to his face, that, if she went, all the
others were determined to follow. But none did follow; and
the immediate consequence was such a thorough and satisfac-
tory household reform, that he used to thank me for the stand
I took, with a heartiness, which one who did not know the
value of an old servant to such a master, would have thought
greatly disproportioned to the favor he acknowledged. A sis-
ter of the old housekeeper succeeded her; and, after two years,
the first re-appeared in her place, much to my relief, when I
heard of it, not long before the great man's death.
People who have heard of Jeremy Bentham, only through
6 Blackwood," the" Edinburgh," Francis Jeffrey, Professor Wil-
son, and that wittiest of reviewers, Sydney Smith, can have no
idea of the wonderful changes in legislation and jurisprudence
and in the administration of justice, throughout the world, of
which he was the originator. Lord Brougham's labors, and
the labors of Mill the father, Mill the son; of Sir Samuel
Romilly, of Solicitor Parkes, of Robert Owen, of Rowland
Hill, now Sir Rowland; of the two Austins, especially of the
JEREMY BENTHAM.
307
elder on Jurisprudence, in the Encyclopædia Britannica ; of
Grote, the historian ; of Roebuck, the — what shall I call
him ? — for he is unlike everybody else, so that. “none but
himself can be his parallel ;” of all our reformers in this coun-
try, on the subject of universal suffrage, the law of evidence,
and the admission of parties, on usury, on women's rights, &c.,
&c. ; to say nothing of such men as Aaron Burr, John Pierpont,
David Hoffman, and Chief-Justice Appleton, of Maine — have
all been after the plans, promptings, and suggestions of
Jeremy Bentham. Since the times of Aristotle and Lord
Bacon, it may be said with truth, and here I have the opinion
of Dr. Parr to strengthen me, there has been no such reforms
brought by any mortal man in logic, in morals and legisla-
tion, in civil and criminal jurisprudence, in the administration
of justice, or in the treatment of criminals, as by this extraor-
dinary man, and his disciples and followers. The legislation of
the world — it is not saying too much, of the whole world —
has been modified, or completely revolutionized, by the
tremendous, though quiet energy of that old man's mind.
Look at the law of evidence, for example. If any part of
that law which is called “the perfection of reason,” deserved to
be so regarded by the profession, it was the law of evidence.
Upon this point, we were all of one mind. Whatever might
be said of the Lex Mercatoria, of Coke's Institutes, or Shepard's
Touchstone, or Fearne's Contingent Remainders and Executory
Devises — the adjudications of Lord Mansfield, with the Com-
mentaries of Blackstone, of Gould, of Chitty, of Peake, of
Greenleaf, Starkey, Story, Powell, and others, on the law
of evidence, left nothing to be desired. But how is it now?
Since Bentham appeared, and his labors have come to be un-
derstood, what is there left of the whole system, worth re-
membering ? The wisest maxims of our fathers have been
set aside without ceremony; and common-sense, everywhere, is
taking the place of precedents and technicalities.
But how came this man to undertake so much, and to per-
severe so long, against all combinations and misrepresenta-
tions, for a lifetime ?
“I am naturally a weak mind,” said he to me, one day, as
we sat over our tea, talking this matter over. "All that can
be said of me is, that I have made the most.of it.”
308
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
6 I have sometimes thought,” said he, at another time, with
a look of great solemnity," whether or no I was not mad. If
I am not — such things will come across our thoughts, now
and then — all the rest of the world must be so.” — “ No, no,"
said I: “their not believing as you do, in cases which are
abundantly clear to you, proves, not that they are mad, but
that they have not considered the matter as you have.”—
6 True, true,” he said ; 5 yes, yes, to be sure ; besides, for
forty years there was nobody to attack me, except with
ridicule and misrepresentation."
“What did your father think of these works ?” I inquired,
as he took down the “ Defence of Usury,” from a shelf, and
mentioned that the copy had belonged to his father. It was
crammed with letters, and a review from the Old Monthly” was
wafered into it. “I'll tell you,” said he, with great eagerness.
66. Jerry,'” said he, on his death-bed, “Jerry, you have made a
philosopher of me."" I suppose I smiled; for the idea of
that old white-haired man before me, nearly “fourscore and
upwards," like Lear— and like Lear, too,“ mightily abused” —
ever having been called Jerry — Jerry -- after he had written
“Morals and Legislation," the “ Defence of Usury," and other
works of a similar character, tickled me prodigiously, though
Dr. Parr always called him not only Jerry, but Master Jerry,
to his dying day. “He made another will," added Mr.
Bentham, “and left out the name of Christ.” I did more
than smile now; I laughed outright. The idea of taking
that for a measure of improvement in philosophy was yet
more diverting than the other. But he was perfectly serious.
And, by the way, this reminds me that Mr. Solicitor Parkes,
author of the “ History of Chancery," who married an American
wife, the daughter of Dr. Priestley, told me, one day, when we
were canvassing the past of Benthamism, and casting his
horoscope for the future, that, when he was a boy, Dr. Parr
told him to read the works of Bentham, as the greatest man
that ever lived ; and that, not long before, a clergyman, a very
clever fellow, and a fine scholar, who was not suspected by
Mr. P. to know any thing of Benthamism, in reply to some
question as to what book, for the last hundred years, had done
most for the mind, and showed most power and originality,
answered, without hesitation, 6 Bentham's Morals and Legis-
JEREMY BENTHAM.
309
lation;" adding that Dr. Parr had told him to read it many
years before; that he read it accordingly, and never had but
one opinion of it since.
Said Brougham, June 2d, 1818, in the House of Commons,
"I agree with my honorable friend, the member for Arundel,
Sir Samuel Romilly, who looked up to Mr. Bentham with the
almost filial reverence of a pupil for his tutor.”
The following memorandum, in this connection, may be
worth preserving: -
6 March 27, 1827.-To-day, Mr. Gallatin, who is a native,
as everybody knows, of Geneva, spoke to me of his townsman
and old associate, Dumont. Burr, whom he called an ambitious
man, with a shrug and a smile, gave him, in 1793, the first
work of Bentham's he had ever met with, to read. It was the
English quarto on “ Morals and Legislation,” saying" here-
this will please you ; it is too dry for me.” Since which, Mr.
Gallatin had read every thing of Bentham's, except some of
his last works, which he could not get hold of, he said.
A striking incident, on the whole ; for Bentham's acquaint-
ance with Burr grew out of the fact, that a stranger had left
orders with Mr. Bentham's bookseller to send him every thing
of Bentham's that was to be had. The stranger was Aaron
Burr, then shipwrecked, impoverished, and almost suffering
from want; and yet, having reached maturity, unable to
forego the strongest and driest Benthamism, which, in 1793,
twenty years before, had been too much for him. Mr.
Bentham, having heard that he was an American, and exceed-
ingly clever, though he had no idea it was Burr, invited him
to Queen-Square Place, and gave him apartments, the same
he afterward gave me, where he stayed till he left England
for ever.
Bentham's unrelenting hostility, to what he called judge-
made law and lawyers, which resulted in the great changes
we are all profiting by, grew out of a little incident, which
occurred in the very first case he ever undertook ; and he
never meddled with another. “ All reports were in manu-
script then," said he. “On a particular occasion, I was applied
to in a matter of consequence. I gave a legal opinion, which
turned out not to be law, at the time, though not long before
it was law; the law having been changed, by judicial
310
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
decisions, without my knowledge or consent! I refused to
give any opinion after this. The case was then put into the
hands of Lord Kenyon, who also gave an opinion. I lost:
he gained. He could make nothing of it, and was paid for
proving as much, at the party's cost. I acknowledged, at once,
that I could make nothing of it, and suffered by proving the
wherefore, at my own cost."
And here, by way of a snapper, let me mention two or three
little incidents, which have just occurred to me, before I am
off to Paris.
One day, a young, bilious-looking, bony, dark-eyed, young
man, with stiff black hair, introduced himself to me as Sumner
Lincoln Fairfield, just out. He had no letters ; but had
somewhere met my sister. He was in a terrible condition,
friendless and helpless ; having been obliged to pawn his
cloak, a miserable Scotch-plaid, as I had occasion to know,
after it was redeemed. He had come to London to seek
his fortune, as a literary man — without a shilling in his
pocket, at the end of two or three days; and, worse than all,
he had brought his mother with him, and both were on their
way to La Grange, on a visit to Lafayette; General Lincoln,
the grandfather of our poet, being an old friend of our second
Washington. Having heard his story, and told him there was
no opening for a friendless and penniless author, and that the
best thing he and his mother could do, would be to go back,
on any terms, by the first vessel, I emptied my pockets into his
— literally — for I was left without a guinea — took some of
his poetry to read, which was really very fine — very —
though rather gloomy and melo-dramatic, and then set off
with him to see his mother. I found them in cheap lodgings
--- the cheapest, I might say - the mother at a wash-tub in
their sitting-room ; but cheerful, and I thought hopeful, having
such a son to boast off. The next I knew of my gentleman,
be had called on Mr. Thomas Campbell, of the “ New
Monthly," and offered him a set of newspaper-sketches and
personalities, which had already appeared in a Wiscasset
paper; and when I remonstrated with him for offering what
was not original, he answered, “Not original! Certainly
they are original : I wrote them myself.”—“ Yes; but they
have been published already.” — “Well, what difference does
(1
)
SUMNER LINCOLN FAIRFIELD.
311
that make ? He never saw them, and I have copied them
with the greatest care." They were utterly worthless, even
if new, and wholly unfitted for a magazine, I took the
liberty of telling him, as plainly as I durst, under the circum-
stances ; though I did not say what was true enough that
they were not worthy of a village-newspaper. A poet he
certainly was; but a wretched prose-writer, being always on
stilts, or trying to be severe and funny.
One day, when he was with me, gloating over his prospects
with the “ New Monthly,” and attributing my advice to sheer
envy, or jealousy, I have no doubt, Mr. Bowring happened to
drop in, and I introduced Fairfield to him, as a literary
brother from over sea. This led to a dinner-invitation for
both, where Mr. F. took the liberty of so bepraising me before
a number of distinguished men — Buckingham, the Oriental
Traveller, who had been in America, and, at one time, had
commanded a ship out of Norfolk, Va., among the rest -- that
I felt ashamed of him, and was obliged to shui him up, by pre-
tending to take it all as a joke. Among other pleasant things,
he told the company that he had always regarded me as
“grand, gloomy, and peculiar," and loved to imagine me
riding alone at midnight on a coal-black steed, &c., &c., till he
had learned to know me better.
Soon after this, I had a lamentable cry from him — a wail
in writing, such as I had never seen before — saying that he
was utterly destitute, hopeless, and sick, at a village six or
eight miles out of London. I took a carriage, and went out
to see him at once, and found him perfectly well, in pretty
lodgings, with his slippered feet on the fender, and every thing
comfortable about him. This, I acknowledge, was a little too
much; and so I left him for ever, slipping into his hand, as I
bade him good-by, what might have passed for a physician's fee.
Soon after this, understanding that he was quite serious in
his determination to visit La Grange, with his mother, I wrote
the general, to put him on his guard, and authorizing him to
give up my name at his discretion. This, I managed to let
Mr. Fairfield know, in season to spare him the mortification,
which I foresaw was inevitable; for, at the time, La Grange
was literally overrun with visitors from America, who were
eating the proprietor out of house and home, on the strength
312
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
of a Congressional grant. But — would you believe it? – Mr.
Fairfield went, nevertheless; and took his mother with bim, and
for the sake of his grandfather, General Lincoln, Lafayette's
old companion in arms, was kindly received, and, after a while,
sent home, by subscription, among the friends of Lafayette,
in a vessel from Havre.
Another case, I cannot resist the temptation of relating just
here, since it involved me, somewhat as my championship of
Buwring had, when he was called to account in the House-of-
Commons, and by the leading newspapers, for his management
of the Greek loan.
One day, Mr. Pelby, the actor, whom I had known in Balti-
more, and on whose account I had a flare-up with Wood, the
manager, called upon me, without notice, to say that he had
come over to play Hamlet on the very stage where John
Kemble, and Kean, and Young had achieved their greatest
triumphs. Having seen him out of the Baltimore scrape,
where he was not well treated, though Wood gàve me all I
asked for, in his behalf, and he played Hamlet with success,
I undertook to obtain a hearing for him at Drury-Lane, or
Covent-Garden, I forget which. I succeeded : he played
this part, and played it well, and was handsomely treated by
the newspaper critics, one of whom, by the way, mistook the
night, and showed he was not there. But this did not satisfy
the ambitious Mr. Pelby. He wanted an engagement, which,
of course, I could not help him in obtaining, or at least the run
of the kitchen, so that he might have full swing, “like a bull in
a china-shop." While I was negotiating for another appear-
ance, with a reasonable prospect, in addition, of at least a short
engagement, he called to tell me how shamefully he had been
treated by some of the committee. I was in a rage, of course,
and lost no time in ascertaining the truth. To my unspeak-
able amazement and vexation, I found that he had been
making use of me in a way I had never dreamed of, and that,
in a word, I had been grossly deceived. From that moment,
I refused to have any thing more to do with the fellow. Yet
he persisted in calling - only to be refused admission -- until
one day I met him in the Park, and he had the kindness to
say that he had just left my lodgings, in Queen-Square Place;.
that he had called a number of times, but could never find me
PELBY; ROBERT OWEN; JOHN DUNN HUNTER. 313
at home, and that he had ever so much to tell me, of the ill-
treatment he had received from the managers and committee.
I stopped him in the midst of his voluminous out-pourings;
and told him, if he had any thing to say to me, it must be in
writing. He stared ; and then said, with a lordly air I never
can think of, without laughing, that “he had no idea of connuit-
ting himself.”
But enough. These are but samples of what I had to
endure from several of my bashful, enterprising countrymen,
while abroad ; though not a few, like Sully, and Hackett, and
Harding, and West, of Kentucky, I had not only the pleasure
of helping, when they most needed help, in one way or another,
but a pride in helping, to the utmost of my ability. .
At this moment, my attention has been called to the
signature of Robert Owen, of Lanark and New-Harmony,
father of Robert Dale Owen, and the most thorough-bred
Yankee, in appearance, language, and general character, I
ever met with, out of New-England. Resembling Henry Clay
in countenance and person, overflowing with benevolence,
a quiet, unrelenting enthusiast, he went into his grave,
thoroughly persuaded that, long before this time, the streets
of London would be overgrown with grass, and the Royal-
Exchange, the palaces, the cathedrals, and churches, the piles
of architecture, and monuments, and squares, would have to be
dug out, or hunted for, as in Babylon the Great.
One more hurried sketch of a fellow sufficiently notorious,
and associated with Mr. Owen, as a philanthropist for the
restoration of our Indian tribes, and I am off to Paris. John
Dunn Hunter, the inventor of “ Hunter's Narrative "-and, for
a time, the wonder of the day — is the man. He had
lodgings in the same house with me, occupying an apartment
over me, in the third story, and was on familiar terms with
the Duke of Sussex, Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, Earl of Leicester
before he died, and others; all owing to the fact, that, on his
arrival in London, he happened to secure lodgings in Warwick-
Street, Pall-Mall, where Washington Irving had written the
“ Sketch-Book," and where he met with a credulous, warm-
hearted young fellow from Norfolk, near Holkham, by the name
of Norgate. Having been a neighbor and constituent of Mr.
Coke, and being on the best of terms with the family, where
314
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
.
he had met with the Duke of Sussex, and others of the
highest rank, he invited Hunter to go down with him to his
father's, and soon after introduced him to that princely es-
tablishment. While there, he saw the Duke of Sussex, who
believed the story he told, in his new “ Robinson Crusoe,” and
encouraged him to visit Kensington-Palace. Out of this,
grew Chester Harding's acquaintance with the duke, and, in
time, with Mr. Coke ; and then followed their portraits,
which gave Harding a position he never lost. Out of such
trivial incidents, what strange results may issue! Had not
Hunter accidentally met with Norgate, and had not Norgate
been from the immediate neighborhood of Holkham, he would
never have had access to Mr. Coke, nor to the Duke of
Sussex, nor to the Duke of Hamilton; and Chester Harding
would never have painted either, and might have been obliged
to go home, without having been heard of, among the magnates
of the British empire.
Let me add here, that, before I left England, I took care to
expose the wicked and foolish imposture of Mr. John Dunn
Hunter, and to disabuse many of his best friends, and, among
others, the Duke of Sussex, Mr. Coke, of Norfolk (Lord
Leicester), Mr. Joshua Bates, the banker, Robert Owen, of
Lanark, and Mr. Norgate, in the “ London Magazine." This
was followed by a similar exposure, in a more serious
vein, by the late Dr. Sparks, in the “ North-American
Review," on the authority of no less a personage than General
Cass, our Secretary of War, or Indian Agent, I forget which,
at the time, who declared that no such Indians had ever lived,
to his knowledge, and no man had ever such opportunities of
knowing, as Hunter had pictured in his. “ Narrative," and
talked about, up to the time when he so suddenly disappeared
from London society, freighted with highly finished, compli-
cated, and costly agricultural implements, furnished by Mr.
Coke, for the savage tribes Hunter was going to humanize,
and bring into a great Indian Confederacy; together with a
gold watch and platina guard, from the Duke of Sussex, and
various contributions in cash, to be deposited with his “ bank-
er," in Wall-Street, New-York !
PARIS.
315
CHAPTER XVIII.
PARIS.
PISTOL-SHOOTING; GREAT DISCOVERY; "NIGGER" SHOOTING BY A CAREFUL
MAN; ADVENTURE WITH A FRENCH BRAGGART; HOW THE CONCEIT WAS
TAKEN OUT OF ME AT ANGELO'S ROOMS, LONDON; AND HOW THE CON-
QUEROR GOT HIS “ COME UPS;” PROPOSITIONS OF MAJOR NOAH; POOR
GRAHAM; LAW LIBRARY ORDERED TO NEW-YORK; COMBINATION TO
DRIVE ME OUT OF PORTLAND; STREET SQUABBLES; HANDBILLS; THE
HON. STEPHEN JONES, M.D.; DEADLY PREJUDICE; ORIGIX THEREOF;
DECLARED A LUNATIC BY PROCLAMATION; ESTABLISH GYMNASIA;
TEACH BOXING AND FENCING; ABOLITIONISTS PUT TO THEIR TRUMPS.
HAVING left England, not for ever, as I then believed, but
only for a season, and having entered France, with a determi-
nation to see for myself, and judge for myself, by studying the
pulsations of Paris, at my leisure, I lost no time in visiting
the palaces and monuments, the Louvre, the courts, the halls
of legislation, and whatever else might be found typical of the
nation; but, excuse me, I have no idea of telling what I
saw, nor of dribbling out my experiences and opinions, after
the fashion of those who go about doing the world by King-
doms and States — to say nothing of landlords, or lodging-
houses -- as you would photograph all Europe, while drifting
over it in a balloon, before a hurricane.
Of all that I saw, and suffered, or enjoyed, while in Paris, I
have nothing to say. I am not writing for the newspapers,
I am only talking about myself — to myself; and yet there are
two or three little incidents, I would not wholly overlook, as
they go, the one to illustrate, and the other to explain, much
that I have said already, or shall have to say hereafter.
It may be remembered, that, although I had been addicted
to pistol-firing, when a boy, I was always a bungler, not
being sure of hitting a barn-door — I might say, of fetching a
two-story house, at any reasonable distance. But one day,
when I was practising in a pistol-gallery on Montmartre,
316
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
one of the fortified heights overlooking that Paris which the
citizen King, not long afterward, was believed to hold in sub-
jection by these batteries alone, I had what was indeed a revela-
tiou—a flash only -- but just what I wanted for a proper
understanding of myself, and of the possibilities in my way,
as a marksman. . I saw a number of military men, and half a
dozen civilians, firing at a mark, thirty paces off, with such uni-
form success, that, although I saw nothing to be compared with
the stories which I had been told by others, or had met with in
print, I was both astonished and perplexed. A large iron
target was set up, with a spot in the centre, which might have
passed for the bull's eye. When fairly struck, a little figure,
with a trumpet, appeared on the top of the target, as if to
announce the result. Many wild shots, reminding me of my
own, while a boy, were made; but again and again the bull's
eye was fairly struck, and the little figure started up to pro-
claim the fact. A young man was with me, from Philadelphia,
by the name of Barrabino, who had seen a good deal of
practice in this way. He was far from being a good shot; and
two or three times, by the merest accident however, I beat
him. At last, while I was levelling my pistol with great
deliberation at the mark, something I know not what — led
me to shut up the left eye, instead of the right, which I had
been exercising with, and I fairly hit the centre. Could it
be! Had I always been shutting up the wrong eye? the
right eye, instead of the left ? Even so: the right being the
stronger, and always the more manageable, I had probably
closed it, in my boyhood, when firing at a mark, and not hav-
ing had an opportunity, till now, of trying any experiments,
might have gone to my grave without understanding why it
was, that, with good eye-sight and steady nerves, I could not
fetch a barn-door; just as, in learning to swim, I had come to
believe, at one time, that it wasn't in me, that there was
some natural impediment in the way, till I threw myself head-
first into the sea at Robinson's-Wharf, on a dark night, with no
companion, and nobody near enough to help me, if I sank or
floundered. From that time forward, although I never
practised much — not more than half a dozen times, and then,
only at long intervals – I found no difficulty in hitting an object
of a reasonable size, within a reasonable distance; in short,
“NIGGER”-SHOOTING ; NARROW ESCAPE.
317
although far from being a crack shot, I was undoubtedly a fair
average shot, even with old stagers, and military men, and
might have become a proficient, if I had believed it worth
while, or if circumstances had made it necessary. The last
practice I had was on my way home. We used to rig an oar
to the studdin'-sail boom, tie a shingle to the end of the oar, let
it swing in the wind, and blaze away, at the greatest possible
distance. - We had two passengers, Barrabino, and a young
New-Yorker, named Lawrence, a newly fledged diplomatist,
who valued themselves on their pistol-firing. With them, I
practised, until I got frightened off, by the careless handling
of a hair-trigger, with Lawrence; but I cannot say that we
ever made any remarkable shots, or that we ever hit the
shingle. A decided enthusiast was our friend Lawrence; a
kind-hearted, refined, gentlemanly fellow, always popping
astero at Mother Carey's chickens, or letting drive at the por-
poises under our bow, with a capital fowling-piece, which he
had brought with him, I do believe, for no other purpose. On
remonstrating with him one day about his carelessness with a
hair-trigger, while the passengers and sailors were moving
about, he said, “I am very careful, very; and have good
reason to be so, for I shot a poor nigger' one day, at my
father's. I was doing something to the lock of that very fowl-
ing-piece, and it went off, and the charge — there happened to
be a ball in it — went through the ceiling, and hit a poor fel-
low in the room overhead."-" With what result ?"-"I do not
now remember: it was when I was quite a boy.” Within
three days after this, he went below, after popping, till he was
tired, at a flock of Mother Carey's chickens; and, after a few
minutes, I heard an explosion, followed by outcries, and a
smothered scream. But for the strangest providence, he
would have blown the captain's head off his shoulders. It
seems that he sat down in the cabin, to tinker the lock of his
fowling-piece: it went off ; and blew a hole through a board
partition, against which Captain Clarke had been leaning, half-
asleep, a few minutes before, with his ear just opposite the
hole it made ; tore through a looking-glass, and sent the charge
ploughing along the top of the captain's berth, into which he had
just thrown himself, to finish his nap. Two or three minutes
earlier, and the poor fellow's brains would have been spattered
318
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
over the same place. The captain, a tough old Scotchman,
was terribly frightened, though unhurt; a single drop of
blood, caused by a single shot, which I took out of his hair,
being all that we could find. It had evidently rebounded
from the ceiling of his berth. So much for being made care-
ful by shooting " niggers” in boyhood.
The other incident, I have thought worth mentioning,
before I come back to my native land, was the following.
One day, this very Barrabino, who had often heard me speak
of my small-sword playing, called upon me at Havre, where
we were waiting for the ship to sail, and showed me a chal-
lenge to all the world, from a inaître d'armes en fait, who had
just opened a fencing-school, in a neighboring street. “ Here's
your chance! - just what you want,” said Barrabino. What
say you to calling on the gentleman, at his salle d'armes, and
taking up the glove?" — With all my heart," said I," and the
sooner, the better.”—“ Capital fun!” he replied: “We couldn't
spend an hour more agreeably; and I want to see your play.”
-“You will take a foil with the blusterer ?” said I. -- " Oh,
no! excuse me: I was never good for much with the foils,
and just now am all out of practice.”—“ Very well: be it so;
but you can go with me and see fair play.” — “ Certainly."
And we went.
We found the gentleman armed and equipped, as the law
directs, and pacing the stone-floor of his apartment, with
quite a military air. He was alone, and evidently out of
temper. I didu't half like his looks, and aftr-r a little conver-
sation with him, which failed to re-assure me, I said to Bar-
rabino, “That fellow means mischief: his eyes are constantly
wandering to the wall, where you see the chasse-coquins
arranged — stiff clumsy foils, which these fencing-masters
often use with the inexperienced and presumptuous; punching
them in the ribs to their heart's content, and to the unspeakable
amusement of bystanders and amateurs. If he dares to
engage me with one of those iron pokers, you will see some
rough play.” “What do you propose to do?” — “Teach him
better manners, or run him through the body," said I. “But
how, if the foils are buttoned ?"-" Wait and see.”
And, sure enough, the scoundrel did engage me with a chasse-
coquin, the stiffest he could find, I dare say, and without a
TI
PARIS ; FENCING; A CHALLENGE.
319
plastron. After we had interchanged a few thrusts and
parries, I gave a coupé, and lunged out with all my strength,
hitting him on the breast, and bending my foil, within a few
inches of the point, so that, if I had persisted, I might have
snapped it off, and finished the business, in a way he was
little prepared for, much as he deserved it.
The fellow seemed quite surprised, but still persisted.
Whereupon, after a little bantering, I lunged again, with all
iny strength, and broke my foil. yet nearer the point, and
pricked him slightly, just under the sword-arm. Barralino
looked frightened, and the man himself not a little astonished.
He dropped his point, and I mine. “ Hé bien ! Monsieur,"
said he. "Hé bien ! ” I replied, “courage! allez toujours ! ”
But no. He began to have his misgivings, and à parley
ensued. He desired to know if I was a professeur. No,
indeed! I was only an amateur. He shook his head : I
smiled. “Do you know," said T, " what a narrow escape you
have had?” And then I “ up and told him." His counte-
nance changed. “And now," said I, “ do you know why you
have not been able to touch me, ferrailleur that you are?” —
“Would Monsieur be so obliging as to explain ?" He looked
so ashamed and mortified, that I could not help explaining.
“You lunge too short, sir : yours are half-lunges only.” —
" Very true," said the poor fellow; “but the fact is, I have
had a ball in my knee, and cannot lunge out.”—“ Zounds and
death! And yet you have the impudence to challenge the
world!” – “Ah! Monsieur, il faut vivre." I was strongly
tempted to say, as the magistrate did to the highway-robber,
who urged the same plea, " Je ne vois pas la nécessité," and
ordered him for execution forth with ; but I forebore. The
blockhead being, at best, but a fourth-rate player, and wishing
to create a sensation, had issued the handbill, I saw, deter-
mined to run for luck, and either 6 mak' a spoon or spoil a
horn," as the Scotch have it. Une levée de boucliers, indeed,
was it not?
But stay: I must give another adventure that occurred to
me in London, though rather out of place here.
“ Perhaps you would like to try the foil, sir,” said Angelo,
to whom I had just been introduced by Leslie, the painter,
who visited his rooms occasionally, under pretence of taking
320
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
lessons, and went through the motions; nothing more. He
was no swordsman ; though he maile believe very hard, like
the Marchioness, when trying to make lemon-peel and water
pass for punch.
“ With all my heart,” said I, having, on the whole, a pretty
good opinion of myself, and supposing he had invited me to a
regular set-to. But no: he did not offer me a mask; and I
saw, therefore, that he only meant to put me through my
paces. After I had taken the mur, and gone through with a
series of lunges and passes, at the word of command, he
dropped the point of his foil, and complimented me hand-
somely on my carriage, bearing, quickness of eye, and pre-
cision of touch; and then added, “ Perhaps you would like to
take a foil with some of these gentlemen ?" I bowed.
And after looking about, as if to find some player disengaged
-- for it was a sort of field-day with him, as I had reason to
know before I had finished — he beckoned to a small, pleasant
looking, snugly built young man, whom he introduced to me as
Mr. Wood. Preliminaries were soon adjusted, though I
declined peeling, and would not even exchange my boots for
sandals; and we went to work. And the result was -- to my
unspeakable mortification that, before ten minutes were over,
he bad given me such a confounded licking, that I was almost
ready to question my own identity; and that, too, in the very
style I had planned for taking the conceit out of him, as I had
before, out of twenty others, at least, by making all my home-
thrusts with one-two. But, hang the fellow ! I had no chance
with him. His one-two was like a flash of lightning, and he
hit me almost as often as he tried; while I do not believe that
I hit him once, fairly and plumply. He was kind enougn to
attribute my failure to my boots, and again urged me to try the
sandals. But no! I had got my money's worth, and more
than I had bargained for ; and, being determined" to see it out,"
I entered at once with Angelo as a pupil, and on the spot,
engaged Mr. Wood for my partner on all future occasions.
Not long after this — within a week or two, at farthest, I
should say-in passing through a broad, handsome street,
I saw the sign of " Roland - Fencing," and dropped in, to ask
wbat he had to say for himself, and was invited, in the same
way as at Angelo's, to take a foil with somebody; and when I
LONDON ; SMALL-SWORD.
consented, and that somebody was called out, who should
appear — bless you -- but the very same Mr. Wood! At first,
I felt puzzled, and somewhat “flabbergasted,” as they say in the
national cock-pit, when a member cannot manage to count the
speaker; but, upon further acquaintance, I found that our Mr.
Wood was the pet of the “ fancy," one of the best swordsmen to
be found, and a painter in water-colors, who passed alternate
afternoons with Angelo's and Roland's best men, keeping the
field against all strangers.
“ Very well,” said I to myself. “ There is something worth
living for, even yet: all my experience heretofore may not
be entirely worthless; and I must persevere with Mr. Wood,
until I can deal with him, as he has dealt with me.” We had
another set-to), and though I was rather more successful than
before, still he beat me cruelly, and, what was harder to bear,
pot by a coupé, or flanconade, not by a straight thrust, over
the arm, nor under, not by doubling or disengaging, but with
my own favorite play, that inevitable one-two.
By and by, however, I began to understand his coup, and to
profit by it. I found that in giving one-two, he nerer fairly dis-
engaged with one ; but instantly, with a sort of twinkle or
flash, intended for a menace or feint, lunged out on two. For
this, I found my guard in carte too low, and I adopted the
half-circle; and persevered, with such complete success, parry-
ing in half-circle, and returning with a whip over the arm,
that, before we had been acquainted two months, I was more
than a match for my gentleman, and used to touch him five
times out of six; sometimes disarming him with the same
parry, as I came up from the half-circle, though never inten-
tionally — to the astonishment of all our bystanders. At last,
he proposed, with an air of the deepest mortification, and a
little resentment, to have it out with me somewhere else;
there being too many spectators and outsiders, he said, at
Angelo's. To this I agreed; and we met by appointment, and
alone, in Mr. Bentham's coach-house, where he produced, not
finished, finely-tempered regulation-sword, with which he went
through the cavalry-exercise, like a master, and with the
greatest possible gravity and precision. And here ended my
acquaintance with Mr. Wood. He was beaten more deplo-
322
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
rably than I had been, and bore it -- not half so well. So
much for small-sword. Leslie had watched the progress of
our tournament, up to the time when it was generally under-
stood that I was rapidly gaining on my adversary, but I never
told him of the final issue, though I knew he would enjoy the
affair, as much as I did, and must have been gratified, after
my first failure, to find that my pretensions were pretty well
founded, and my swordsmanship of a character to justify what
Sully had written to him about me. That he was deeply
mortified at my “first going off, I have no doubt, although
he would never own up to the charge.
Let me add, that after my return to America, having opened
a law-office in Portland, I gave lessons both in fencing and
sparring, while busiest in my profession, and most occupied
with editing the “ Yankee," and writing for all the annuals,
most of the magazines, and at least half a score of newspapers.
And even to this day, judging by what happened not long ago,
in 1864, I believe, when I was in my seventy-second year, I
should be more than a match for a pretty good player of any
age; having beaten two several teachers of small-sword, in the
course of a single week, though I had been wholly out of
practice for twenty years, and had never met with my match
since I left England. “There," said I, one day, to Mr. Ben-
tham — after a severe day at Angelo's “I have now beaten
all the best players.” -“Ah-a-a-and all the worst players lave
beaten you, hey?” was the reply. Sed quære, was it the reply
of Bentham,or of his secretary? I declare I forget which; but
we all enjoyed it, I remember. .
Two incidents occur to me, just here, which deserve mention
perhaps. Among my pupils in Portland was young Charles
Robinson, a midshipman afterward, in the navy, who married
a daughter of Commodore Elliot. He was alert and active,
but wanted patience. Two or three years later, he told me
that one of my lessons had saved his life. He was forced into
a duel with cutlasses. After a little playing at cut and thrust,
he parried a lunge, and returned over the arm, cutting through
his adversary's hand, which ended the affair. And the late
Captain Paine, of the United States navy, who took a few
lessons of me, both in small-sword and boxing, after a sharp
encounter with the foils, wben he undertook to show, that,
PORTLAND; FENCING AND SPARRING.
323
although he might not be able to lay out his antagonist, while
defending himself, he certainly could fix him, if he chose to
throw his own life away - and miserably failed, of course-told
me that one lesson I had given him, in boxing, had probably
saved his life in a foreign port. “When you are in doubt,"
said I, “ win the trick.”—“ Win ihe trick ! but how?”-“By
giving one-two, and coming instantly on guard.” He was going
on board his vessel one very dark night. A big black shadow
stood in his way, and struck at him: being in doubt, he remem-
bered my advice, and let fly with one-two ; and away the shadow
went, head over heels. And this he repeated, two or three
tiines, till it left him in peace. Not long after, it came to liis
knowledge, that somebody who had been struck at in the saine
way, found his heavy wrapper cut through in three or four
places, after he got on board : nay, on second thought, I
have an idea that Captain Paine himself had found the marks
of a knife about the collar of a coat he wore at the time; his
assailant striking with a bent arm, so that a straight one-two
anticipated his blow, as a straight thrust anticipates the coupé.
My lessons were of some use therefore.
And now, having finished with my adventures and experi-
ences abroad, let me say what has happened since my return to
America, in 1827. My law library had been ordered from
Baltimore to New York, where I intended to establish myself
in my profession; my friends telling me, that Baltimore would
never be what she had been ; that the Baltimore-and-Ohio
Railroad had crippled and emasculated her energies ; and that,
in a word, I must go to New Orleans, to New-York or Phila-
delphia, if I ever meant to be heard of. I chose New-York;
and, after meeting with Major Noah, who wanted me to estab-
lish a Sunday-paper there, saying it would be a fortune for
me, and need not interfere with my professional business for
a long while, I made my arrangements to settle there as a
lawyer, and give up writing and authorship, unless driven to it
by necessity.
It was here, and at this time, that a sorrowful incident
occurred, which I never can think of, without a shudder. At
the table with Major Noah and myself was a young American,
who had written for the magazines of London, and appeared
well acquainted with my career abroad. His name was
324
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Graham; and while chatting over his wine, with Major Noah
and myself, about magazine-literature there, he referred to
some article he had written, where he spoke of the “ venerable
jaggedness” — or the “jagged venerableness," he didn't care
a snap which, for either would do — of some old ruins there. I
found him a very pleasant fellow, highly cultivated, who
had seen a good deal of the world, and perhaps profited by it,
so far, at least, as to seem high-bred and well-principled.
But, alas ! within a weekafter I saw him last, he was shot
dead in a duel, by Barton, a young Philadelphian, whose face he
had slapped over the card-table; and it came to be believed
that he had long been weary of life, and had sought death in
this way, rather than become a self-murderer. And then, clap
after clap, came the astounding intelligence that his real name
was not Graham, that he had been guilty of forgery in Eng-
land, at a time when forgery was punished by death, and the
case of poor Fontleroy had not been altogether forgotten ; that
the officers of justice were after him, and had actually traced
him to Liverpool, supposing that he would be likely to escape
that way; and that while they were ransacking the city,
through every hole and corner, he was making a speech in a
crowded theatre, to quell a disturbance. A bold player in
whatever he undertook, his audacity saved him, and enabled
him to embark for his native country, where he perished
miserably, soon after his arrival.
Other propositions were urged; but my mind was made up
to go into the law for a living, whatever else I might be driven
to undertake, in a parenthesis, if hard pushed. I had, I
believe, less than a hundred dollars in the world. I was in
debt five or six hundred ; but then, I had a library and office-
furniture, worth, at least, three thousand dollars, and with
these I was ready to begin the world anew, in the great city
of New-York, not being then aware of the bitter prejudice
that prevailed against me.
But I must run home first, and see my widowed mother,
and my twin-sister, Rachel, and such of my friends and rela-
tions as might be willing to acknowledge me. How severe
the trial for them was, may be judged of by the fact, that one
of my sister's oldest and most intimate friends, a very superior
woman, who had always known me by reputation, having
PORTLAND; HOME TRIALS.
325
heard of my arrival, called, with tears in her eyes, not to con-
gratulate her and my beloved mother, but to condole with her,
and to bid my mother be comforted, and put her trust in God.
This, I never knew, till years had gone by, and the dear
woman - God bless her for her faithfulness, in the day of my
visitation !-had become one of my truest and warmest friends,
and has continued so to this hour, notwithstanding the death
of my sister. I saw her only last sabbath, and had half a
mind to ask her what had so changed her opinion of me, and
how she came to be so cruelly prejudiced against me, before
she knew personally what I was good for; but I hadn't the
heart; and as all these questions will explain themselves,
before we get through, I must leave them to the future.
Soon after this, and when I had no more idea of settling
down in the village of Portland, for life, than I had of
establishing a Cape-Elizabeth “ Daily-Advertiser," or teaching
horsemanship on the Isle of Shoals, it was intimated to nie
that I should not be allowed to stay here. “ Verily, verily,” said
I, “ if they take that position, here I will stay, till I am both
rooted and grounded - grounded in the graveyard, if nowhere
else ;” and here I have remained from that day to this, with-
standing all combinations and sorrows and trials, resisting
every temptation and allurement to go elsewhere, until, though
at one time London and Paris were not large enough for me,
and New-York and New-Orleans, and Baltimore and Phila-
delphia, were but mere out-posts and make-shifts, in my
estimation, I came to regard Portland — brave, generous,
beautiful Portland - as unmatched and unmatchable; and so
it is. Washed on every side by the open sea, draining
itself, and looking abroad over sky and earth, as if anticipat-
ing the time when she will be taking toll, both ways, of the
merchant-princes, and the merchandises of the Orient and the
West, and the riches of China, of India and Japan, shall be
emptied into her magnificent harbor, and the population of
whole empires flow through her broad thoroughfares — there!
The plot was now hurrying forward to a consummation.
The very next day after my arrival, my uncle, James Neal,
cautioned me on the subject, saying that one or two of the
Willis-family had called on him to warn me that I must not
yenture to speak to any of them. “Very well,” said I,
326
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
“ please say to them that they must not venture to speak to
me, or even to look at me, uncivilly, when they cross .my
path, or I shall knock them down, without a word, though it
be in church.” That very day, my threat came near being
verified; for happening to enter the old brick church, where,
in my boyhood, I used to go, barefooted, after chips, I saw
Mr. George Willis in a side-aisle, and came upon him quite
unexpectedly on my way out; whereupon lie disappeared,
like a shadow. But I was beleaguered on every side: my
enemies beset me at every tuin: the plot thickened ; and
the next day, as I was walking up Exchange-Street, with my
good uncle, I heard a noise, not unlike the roar of a chafed
bull. I stopped and looked about me, having no idea of
the cause. Nor had my uncle; for he said to me, “ What's
the matter with Patten ?” “ Patten! Patten!” said I, “ good
gracious! not Master Patten is it?” And as I turned, I saw
that gentleman standing in the door of his little book-shop,
with a heavy cane, gesticulating violently, and threatening me
in language I had never been accustomed to. I turned back
to meet him; and uncle Neal tried to stop me, but in vain.
As I drew near Patten, he retreated within the shop, still
brandishing his cane, and threatening me, and telling me not
to cross the threshold, if I valued my life. I did cross it, how-
ever, saying to him, as I did so, that, if he knew when he was
well off, he must not allow the cane to touch me. By this time,
there was a large gathering about the door. He threatened,
while foaming at the mouth almost, to get a “nigger” to thrash
me. “With all my heart," said I: “ you may get a couple
if you like; and I'll stay here, just here, without budging, till
you have made up your party." Others interfered now -
well-disposed gentlemanly persons. My old friend Patten -
who was really a man of pluck, and, notwithstanding his
violent, unreasonable, head-strong temper, a very worthy
gentleman, with a well-founded grudge against 'me, for
which I have always been sorry, though he had given me
ample occasion for complaint, when I was a boy, and went to
school to him — retreated into his back shop, and I went on
my way rejoicing.
Our quarrel originated in this way. At the age of eight, or
nine perhaps, I carried a note from my mother, asking him to
PORTLAND; HOME TRIALS.
327
excuse me for absence, one morning, when it was my turn to
sweep the school-house. Instead of looking into the note to
see if I had any reasonable excuse — and, between ourselves,
I don't think I had, for my uncle having given me permission
to go aboard a ship he was building, for waste oakum, I had
availed myself of the permission, I dare say, without saying
that I had to sweep out the school-room --- but Master Patten
did not kuow this - I might have been sick, or a death might
have happened in the family to prevent me - and so, witlout
reading the note, he set upon me at once, and gave me a
terrible thrashing, and then went home to his boarding-house,
and made his brays of it, before all the boarders. I heard of this
and vowed —Quakers never swear, you know – I vowed in
my heart, to pay him off in his owu coin, if he and I lived, till
I was big enough. Many years after this -- in 1818, I should
think, when I was twenty-five -- I happened to be in Portland
on a visit, just after our failure in business, when, owing partly
to a long trip through Virginia, in mid-summer, and partly to
the voyage from Baltimore to Boston, I was tanned so black
- black and tanned, I might say, like one of King Charles's
pups -- and so changed, that I passed for a pirate, in church;
and everywhere, among those who had been my school-fellows
and companions, not long before, and my own mother did not
know me, till I spoke. Passing Mr. Patten's little book-store,
one day, I remembered my vow, and was on the point of pay-
ing him a visit, when, just as I had reached the door, and was
about crossing the threshold, I caught a glimpse of the gray-
haired man at his desk; and, for the life of me, I could not have
gone a step nearer. If he had taken advantage of my help-
lessness, when a child, was I, in the flush and prime of a confi-
dent manhood, to take advantage of his comparative helpless-
ness, at the age of threescore, at least? No, 110: I could
not do it; and I left him in peace. Had I stopped there, all
would have been well, and that most worthy gentleman would
have had nothing to complain of; but in writing the life of
“ Will Adams, or Errata" - a rude, rough story, with false-
hood enough, and exaggeration enough, to show that I was not
even pretending to tell the truth, but only making up some-
thing as I went along, like other story-tellers on paper, and not
giving a biography – I happened to mention this incident. My
328
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
object was to show how dangerous it might be, for a school-
master, or an employer, to mistake a boy's character, just when
he was pushing into a vigorous growth; and, for illustration, I
gave a series of anecdotes, all substantially true of themselves,
though oftentimes greatly embellished, for the very purpose
of misleading those who might fancy that poor 6 Will Adams”
was a portraiture of the author, and that all I related of him
was a matter of personal experience with myself -- in short,
an autobiography. For the same reason, I had mentioned a
series of trials, to which I had been subjected by others -
and, I must ackuowledge, without well considering the con-
sequences; for, sooth to say, I had no malice in my heart
toward a single human being, and no drop of bitterness, to
scald my throat, or otherwise trouble me, when I thought
of the Willises; nor did it once enter my head, that a family I
so much respected, and had so much reason to respect, on the
whole, notwithstanding their misapprehension of my character,
when I was a shop-boy in their father's store, would care a
snap for the stories I told, whether true or false ; yet, being
true true to the letter - it seems they were dreadfully
exasperated and embittered, like “ Master Patten,' without a
suspicion of the truth, on my part. Hence all the commotion
about me.
Two or three days after my arrival at Portland, as I went
lazily sauntering down Middle-Street, by " Huckler's Row," as
it was then called, near the head of Green-Street, I heard some-
body shouting after me, “ Keep Cool! Keep Cool!” On
turning my head, I saw quite a gathering, a rabble-rout of young
men, standing in the door-way of Herrick's tavern, with their
faces turned toward me. Taking it for granted that. I under-
stood them, I went back to my mother's, left my watch and
purse, and returned. The outcry was renewed by two or
three voices. I walked over, and seeing one fellow seated on
the door-sill, whose insolent manner satisfied me that he was
one I should have to do with, I took off his hat, not willing to
strike him before he stood up, and flung it into the shop. Upon
this, he sprang to his feet; and I instantly slapped his face.
The others crowded about me: he threw himself into position ;
and I let fly, sending him into the furthest corner, with a
bloody nose, and receiving, at the same time, a blow from
PORTLAND; SKIRMISHING.
329
behind, over the right shoulder, which left me with a black
eye. Turning upon the cowardly and treacherous rascals, and
telling them, that if they would only come to the front, I was
ready for the whole gang, I prepared for the worst. Where-
upon, without waiting to be hurried, or to stand “upon the
order of their going," they cleared out, and I went back to my
mother's. Within the next following few days, I had two or
three other explanations of a similar character, which resulted
in nothing serious; and then, being invited by the students of
Bowdoin College to a supper, I went down there ; was met
and entertained with the greatest warmth and respect, though
I refused to make a speech - from sheer inability, not being
able to address a few remarks to a sabbath-school class, at
Bath, when it was expected of me, in Dr. Jenks's church —
and had put into my hands the following placard, in prodigious
letters, crowded with large staring capitals, and topped off
with a hand four inches long, which had been found pasted up
at the college-entrance, while others were clinging to the
fences and gale-posts in every part of the village. Here it is
now: I give it word for word.
“ BULLETIN EXTRA.- Arrived at Portland on Saturday
evening last, in the steamboat, in a short passage from Lon-
don, via New-York, the celebrated author of . Keep Cool,'
Randolph,' " Errata,' &c., &c., in a state of great bodily and
mental exhaustion, owing to his excessive labors in furnish-
ing matter for · Blackwood's Edinburgh Monthly Magazine.'
It is said much of the elevation of American character is owing
to this distinguished author. Since his arrival in his native
town, it has been recommended to put himself under the care
of the Hon. Stephen Jones, M.D., an eminent Southern
Physician. This has been done, and the doctor reports favor-
ably. On Wednesday afternoon, he was walking with his
physician, apparently much better. Dr. Jones, however,
recommends his removal to Baltimore, or some more southern
climate, for his complete restoration.
“ July 12—,"
But this handbill not being altogether satisfactory, it was
enlarged and intensified, corrected and revised, forthwith, and
330
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
a large edition was immediately struck off, and scattered
broadcast all through the streets of Portland, in the following
shape, with the same large capitals, and monstrous hand at the
top, to secure attention :-
“ BULLETIN Extra. — Arrived at Portland on Saturday
evening last, in the steamboat, in a short passage from London,
via New-York, the infamous author of "Keep Cool,' • Ran-
dolph,' Errata,' &c., &c., who has basely traduced his native
town and country for hire; a renegade, who, unable to obtain
an honest living at home, and driven from his native country
by the scorn and contempt of honest indignation, picked up a
scanty living in Edinburgh and London, by being a pander for
scandal against the country that nourished him, in the periodi-
cal journals of those cities. How much of the elevation of
an enlightened public judge! He has been long laboring under
symptoms of insanity, and, since his arrival in his native town,
it has been recommeuded to put himself under the care of
Stephen Jones, M.D., an eminent African Physician. This
has been done, and the doctor reports favorably. On Wednes-
day afternoon, he was walking with his physician, apparently
much better. Dr. Jones, however, recommends his immediate
removal to Baltimore, or some more southern climate, for his
“ July 12th, 1827.
“N.B.- It is understood this celebrated author has
returned from the East without much improvement."
Of course, I know the author of these two handbills ; but,
inasmuch as we have been on good terms for the last forty
years, and I have never called him to account, holding that
tit-for-tat is allowable in such controversies, I shall not give
up his name. Let the past be forgotten, as, by me, it is most
heartily forgiven.
Meanwhile, other agencies were at work, and I was informed
not only that I should not be admitted to the Cumberland-bar,
though a Counsellor of the Supreme-Court of the United-
States for several years, but that I should not even be allowed
PORTLAND; STEPHEN JONES, M.D.
331
to stay in Portland, happen what might. This determined
me. My mind was now made up, and I lost no time in apply-
ing for admission, ordering my library from Baltimore to
Portland, instead of New York, and securing an office.
While waiting for the moon to change, other facts had come
to my knowledge, little calculated to soothe my irritation, or
sweeten my temper. One day, it happened that a colored man
accosted me in the street, walked with me, and entered
into conversation with me, about matters and things in general.
He was a very ignorant fellow, a by-word and butt with the
idlers of the day ; but his language was so irresistibly droll,
being the strangest mixture of unmeaning words, compounded
by himself, while his manner was deferential enough to satisfy
the most fastidious, that I found no little amusement in listen-
ing to his gibberish. We were together for half an hour,
perhaps ; but the next day a gentleman called on me, and,
after an apology for interfering, told me that the poor “nigger"
was nicknamed Dr. Jones, and that he had been hired to
follow me round, wherever I went; never to lose sight of me,
and to enter into conversation with me whenever he had a
chance. The gentleman added that he had called Jones into his
store and told him it was about as much as his life was worth,
if I got a hint of the truth. “But is he a worthy fellow ?”
said I. — “Yes, indeed; both ignorant and harmless." — And
they pay him well, I hope ?” — “So I understand," was the
reply." -- " Very well; say to Dr. Jones, that I have not the
slightest objection to his earning wages in this way, just as
long as they may think it wise to employ him. Let him
understand that he has my full consent to follow me wherever
I go, by night or by day, to walk by my side, if he will, and
to enter into conversation with me, whenever I am alone;
but, if he speaks to me when I am not alone, I will thrash him
within an inch of his life, though it should be in the presence
of women, or on the steps of the church." The cominunication
was made to him, and he not only promised, but faithfully
kept his promise to the last; going with me to the houses I
visited, and sitting on the door-steps, till I came out; until
the confederates, finding the laugh was against them, began to
count the cost, and left me in peace for the next following
forty years.
332
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Having applied for admission to the Cumberland-bar,
though assured by the late Judge Preble himself, and by
Chief-Justice Millen, that I might have to go through a course
of study with some lawyer of reputation here, the mouopoly
being established, and the bar-rules imperative, I left my
credentials with a committee of the bar, showing how long I
had practised in the highest courts of Maryland, how long
I had been admitted to the District, the Circuit, and the
Supreme Courts of the United States, and began looking
about, for an office. Most of our leading practitioners, at this
time, had for their offices mere kennels, or dog's-holes, with-
out carpets or furniture worth having, dark, dirty, and slovenly.
I had been accustomed to light, airy, well-furnished offices,
for I had two rooms on the ground-floor handsomely carpeted,
with mahogany tables, and book-cases, &c., and rosewood
chairs, at Baltimore, though called a coxcomb for my pains ;
but there I slept, in my back-office, and there spent all my
time, except at my meals; and I chose to be comfortable and
cleanly.
The late Mr. James Deering had just finished a block of
stores in Exchange-Street, with offices in the second story, for
those who might be adventurous enough to leave their garrets
and ground-floors, for handsome, light, and cheerful apartments,
between the two. Having heard that Fessenden and Deblois
were to have two rooms in the building I had in view, I called
to inquire of the general, grandfather of the two generals
now flourishing, and then occupying a miserable one-story box
in Court-Street; and he gave me all the information I required.
Whereupon, I hunted up Mr. Deering, and while negotiating
with him for the front office, in the street, he wanting me to
take both rooms, front and back, and I saying that I couldn't
afford but one, to begin with ; but if I should have students, as
I had in Baltimore, or a decent share of business, I would take
both. At this moment, my uncle, James Neal, hove in sight, and
Mr. Deering called him over, saying, “ Here, Mr. Neal ! your
nephew wants to take only one of my new offices, and I advise
him to take both: I know he'll want them. What say you ?
won't he have business enough to justify him?"_" Won't have
enough to pay for his fire-wood,” was the reply. “Mr. Deering,"
said I,“ we will take both offices ;” and there the matter ended.
PORTLAND; GYMNASTICS.
333
(D
I was soon admitted to the bar, and entered at once upon my
profession, with reasonable success, though I must acknowledge
that I never made much of a figure there. Pettifogging I had
no relish for, and the speeches were oftentimes of such a
portentous length, where little or nothing was at stake, beyond
a boot-jack or a tin-dipper, that I felt ashamed to bestir
myself, or to waste my indignation, or breath, upon the
merest quibbling, as many others did; though there were
honorable exceptions, where truth, and not victory, was occa-
sionally, though not often, struggled for.
Meanwhile, what was I to do? The bar was over-crowded,
and the late Charles S. Davies, one of my earliest friends, after
I began dabbling in literature, took the first opportunity of say-
ing as much. But I persevered, nevertheless; all the more I
might say, for such intimations.
Another incident, followed by lasting consequences, may as
well be stated here. The late Governor Enoch Lincoln was
my mother's next-door neighbor. Having understood that I
was familiar with gymnastics, which he wanted to have intro-
duced here, he proposed a lecture. A lecture! I had never
been guilty of such a thing, in all my life ; but, as soon as my
mind was made up about staying here, I determined to
establish a gymnasium, take charge of it myself, and, refusing
all compensation, see what could be done for the people in that
way. Our first gathering was in the upper story of the old
town-hall, which I asked of the authorities; and succeeded in
obtaining for certain purposes, though vehemently opposed by
such young men as the late Colonel John D. Kinsman, then
exceedingly popular with the militia-power. I was not
present at the meeting, where he denounced the whole system,
in his pitiable ignorance of its true character, as a kind of
raree-show, with ground and lofty tumbling, &c.; but I heard
of it, and lost no time in-suggesting that a lesson or two might
be taken by him, with great advantage to his manners, if not
to his understanding.
From the old town-hall, we went to Silver-Street, where
we succeeded in obtaining a large hay-magazine. There
we set up our ladders, and ropes, and masts, parallel-bars,
wooden-horses, &c., &c., with such success, that, before a month
had gone over, I had under my charge at least fifteen or
334
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
twenty full classes. Among these were many capital gymnasts.
After this, when the spring opened, we took the old fort on
the top of Munjoy-Hill, and established another gymnasium
there, with ditches and leaping-poles; and then, having got
into other and better business, with my law and literature, and
fencing and sparring classes, at my office, I threw up these
gymnasia ; being, to say the truth, heartily sick of them,
after I found how little the members were inclined to do for
themselves; not one of the whole being disposed to let me off,
although I had trained forty or fifty for class-leaders, and they
understood that I had my own living to get in other ways.
Meanwhile, I had established a gymnasium at Brunswick,
which has been continued to this day, with two or three long
interruptions, and another at Saco; and all this, without ask-
ing or receiving a penny for my time and trouble; pay, more:
at considerable expense to myself, though so poor at the time,
that I was obliged to pay my bills at sight, and keep my own
counsel, under every temptation, lest I should be sent to the
alms-house ; and now let me add, that I am constantly meet-
ing with gray-headed men, who declare that they owe their
restoration to health, and sometimes their very lives, to the
discipline of the gymnasia, under my charge.
Before I leave this part of my story, however, let me men-
tion a fact, which will be very surprising, I dare say, to most
of our abolitionists and clamorous anti-slavery enthusiasts.
One day, a young mulatto called on me, to see if he could be
admitted into our Silver-Street Gymnasium. Liking his
appearance and behavior, and believing that in some such way
only could our colored brethren be brought to share in our
white social privileges, I answered, “ Yes, certainly: so far as I
myself was concerned; but I would consult the class-leaders."
Meanwhile, he was to "scratch round,” and try to get half a
dozen colored youth to join him. He succeeded, and I made
the proposal. A dead silence: I then urged upon the large
school, that, in their vehement opposition to slavery, they had
now a good opportunity for manifesting their sincerity, and
of advancing the colored man, at least one step in the social
scale. No answer. I then offered to take charge of the
colored class myself, to be answerable for their good behavior,
cleanliness, and strict obedience. And what think you was
PORTLAND.
335
which I had been laboring, without pay, month after month,
for about a year, only two could be found willing to admit a
colored man into the association. These two were the late
Mr. John Winslow, a Quaker; and Mr. Neal Dow, the son of
a Quaker. This, I acknowledge, went far to dishearten me;
for what was bodily training, compared with spiritual training?
what a system of gympastics, weighed against humanity and
consistency?
The die was now cast: I was settled for life; and though
told that I should not stay in Portland; that, if not driven out, I
shwuld be starved out, so bitter and fierce, and so universal,
was the feeling against me, yet here I am now, and here I
liave been ever since, at the end of nearly two-and-forty years,
and almost as good as new. So much for self-reliance and
wilfulness. But this chapter is getting out of proportion: let
us go to another.
336
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
CHAPTER XIX.
PORTLAND.
SETTLED IN PORTLAND; THE" YANKEE;" CHIEF-JUSTICE APPLETON; EDGAR
A. POE, AND OTHERS; BUCKINGHAM AND THE“ NEW-ENGLANI) GALAXY;"
OUR QUARREL; BECOME EDITOR OF THE" GALAXY;" FRANCIS 0. J. SMITH
AND THE EASTERN "ARGUS;” JAMES BROOKS; OFFICE-FIUNTING; CITY
GOVERNMENT OF PORTLAND; MR. NEAL DOW; LOTTERIES; NARROW
ESCAPE FROM THE STATE-PRISON; PERIODICALS; FAVORABLE CHANGE
OF PUBLIC OPINION, GENERAL FESSENDEN; LECTURING; EXTEMPORANE-
OUS AND WRITTEN ADDREASES; MARHIAGE; QUARRYING FOR GOLD;
BUILDING; LACQUERED WARE BANISHED; EXAMPLES.
I was now fairly under way. A young book-seller - which,
of course, may account for the rash adventure --James Adams,
Jr., had applied to me, at the suggestion of others, to establish
a paper. I refused; though willing enough to be an editor,
nothing would induce me to become a proprietor. After a
brief negotiation, he undertook to publish, what I was to edit,
for five hundred dollars a year, payable out of the store; that
is, in law-books and stationery.
Subscription-papers were issued, a very satisfactory list of
subscribers obtained, and on the first of January, 1828, “ THE
YANKLE” burst like a northern meteor upon our people. It
was continued with triumphant success; entirely original;
most of it - seven-eighths perhaps written by myself; and
altogether literary, without a single advertisement, for a year
and a half, when, having swallowed Mrs. Sarah J. Hale's
Monthly -- the “ Ladies' Magazine," perhaps — the “ Bache-
lor's Journal," and the “ Boston Literary Gazette," editor and
all, it appeared in Boston, conducted by myself and James W.
Miller, the poet, and a true poet he was, though he has been
allowed to die out by his contemporaries; and then, as if
the publishers and proprietors were beside themselves, they
changed it from a weekly folio of eight pages, to a monthly
magazine, which, as I foretold, gave up the ghost within the
SETTLED IN PORTLAND.
337
next following six months, although under the guardianship
of Lilly and Waite, successors to Wells and Lilly.
While burning its way into public favor, I had for contribu-
tors, from all parts of the country, such men as Chief-Justice
Appleton, whose first published writings appeared in the
“ Yankee," on Balance of Trade, Usury, Evidence, and Lot-
teries; John G. Whittier, who began his career with me, I
believe; B. B. Thatcher, author of " Indian Biography;" Albert
Pike, then of Newburyport, now of Little Rock ; the Rev. Mr.
Greenwood ; James O. Rockwell, whose lines “ To an Iceberg"
ought never to be forgotten; Edgar A. Poe; Grenville Mellen;
Dr. Isaac Ray, and half a hundred, more or less, of writers
who have since become distinguished. Poe sent his first
poems to the “ Yankee,” and proposed to dedicate a volume to
me; but I discouraged him, saying, that, in the existing state
of public opinion, it would be a hindrance, instead of a help,
and he forebore. And as for Whittier, I have just fished up
a letter of his, which I had entirely forgotten, dated “10th
Mo., 1828,” and showing on what terms we were, forty years
ago. A part of it ran thus:-
your consideration. You dislike – I believe you do, at least
— the blank verse of our modern poets and poetesses. Never-
theless, I send you a long string of it. If you don't like it,
say so privately; and I will quit poetry, and every thing else
of a literary nature, for I am sick at heart of the busi-
ness. . . . . Insult has maddened me. The friend-
less boy has been mocked at; and, years ago, he vowed to
triumph over the scorners of his boyish endeavors. With the
unescapable sense of wrong burning like a volcano in the
recesses of his spirit, he has striven to accomplish this vow,
until his heart has grown weary of the struggle.” Of course,
I wrote a most encouraging letter in reply; for he persisted,
as we see, like Mr. Neal Dow, and William Garrison, after
they had both threatened to be distinguished in some way,
until he has become one of the glories in our upper-sky; but
just think of the Quaker poet, and a poet, so much of a
Quaker (he is a distant relation of mine, by the way) mak-
ing a vow, and going about with a volcano in his heart,
22
338
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
like Sumner Lincoln Fairfield, “ full of the unescapable sense
of wrong."
About the same time, N. P. Willis, whom I had been watch-
ing over a long while, wrote me as follows, while engaging me
to write for the “ Token," of which he was the editor: 6 Three
of the verses you have quoted in the · Review of the
• Token,' as specimens of the excellence of pieces, were
inserted by the editor, in the place of expunged stanzas." I
hacl always thought highly, and spoken highly, of the poor
fellow's poetry, long before' I knew the name of the author,
and while he was writing occasional verses for a Boston paper,
without a signature; but the fact he mentions here, must have
been very gratifying. That I should select three verses, to
speak highly of, and that all three should turn out to be his,
must have satisfied him that I recognized, as by elective
affinity, the true spirit in him, and the golden ore of true
poetry.
Soon after I had opened fire, and lay with my ground tier
double-shotted, and matches-lighted, I came to the knowledge
of what had always been a provoking mystery to me. I did
not mind being abused : I rather throve on it, indeed; but
then, I did want to koow what it was for. I knew that I had
been cruelly slandered, not only misrepresented, but lied
about, year after year, while abroad, by at least twelve hun-
dred newspapers of the land ; but I never quite understood
why. At last, it came to me like a revelation from — I will
not say where.
In the year 1818, Mr. Pierpont had made me acquainted
with Mr. Joseph Tinker, alias Joseph Tinker Buckingham, a
parishioner of his, editor and proprietor of the “ New-England
Galaxy," wretchedly poor, desperate, and living from hand to
mouth. I liked the man, I liked his energy and boldness; and
after taking upon my hands a personal quarrel, which he
had with a fourth-rate English actor, who had come into
his office to thrash him -- and would have done so, but for me —
I advised him to go on, and lay about him, right and left, as
with a flail, until his power should be felt and acknowledged,
and the abuses he complained of, should be put a stop to;
offering, at the same time, to send him occasional communica-
tions, without pay. And this I did for two or three years,
SETTLED IN PORTLAND.
339
until, having disposed of Joseph Lancaster, whom he greatly
wronged, by the way, and some others, he began to assail me.
Instead of being vexed with him, however, I laughed heartily
at the freak, which was intended to prove his independence,
even of friendship, and bade him “ God speed!”
While abroad, he consigned his son Joseph to my special
care, at London. I did my best to promote his views, with-
out well understanding what they were, beyond this, that lav-
ing interchanged a “sentiment” with Edward Everett, at some
public meeting, he felt himself qualified for any thing, and
therefore had established, or was about establishing, a new
daily paper, the “ Boston Courier," I believe. After intro-
ducing him to most of my friends, I helped him off to Paris.
Meanwhile, the press-gang, the whole paperhood of America,
were baiting and badgering me, at every turn, without my
knowledge at the time, because, forsooth, in dealing with our
I had told the truth of them. Buckingham knew this, and
knew, also, that the growing prejudice against me had no just
foundation ; that hundreds of lies were bandied about, which a
word from him — “fiery darts,” though most of them were —
would have quenched for ever. Yet that word he never wrote,
and, of course, never spoke. I did not know this at the time,
or I should have helped him to something he would have been
unscrupulous, not to say unprincipled, that everybody was
afraid of him, I found. This rather amused me; for I had
flung down my gauntlet in our first issue of the “ Yankee,"
shut: take your choice.” After a while, he ventured on a
fling or two, which I did not quite understand nor relish; but
I kept my temper. And then, having hinted that something
he had allowed himself to say about a Methodist preacher
--- Huntington, I believe — who had prayed himself into a
new pair of breeches — was not calculated to make friends
of the religious community, Methodists or not, he had the
insolence and folly to threaten me, that, if I gave him any
more advice, he would let the people of Portland know who I
was. Whereupon, I replied, that I understood him, and that
if he did not tell the story - it was about a woman I had
340
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
sent to Boston, to the care of Cooper, the tragedian -- and
in the very next paper, I would tell it. By that day's
mail, I received a frightened, warning letter, from my old
friend Pierpont, who knew to what I referred, and all the
circumstances, asking if I was mad, and saying that the
“ giant” — meaning my adversary, Mr. Joseph Tinker Buck-
ingham — i was beginning to stir.” To this I had nothing to
say, just then. The result was, that Buckingham did not tell
the story, and I did; and in the very next issue of the “ Yankee.”
From that moment, having declared war, by proclamation,
according to established usage, sending a herald into the
enemy's camp, we had it broadside after broadside, hot and
heavy, till he struck his colors, and said, with a piteous wail,
that if it were any satisfaction for me to know that I had
almost ruined the “ Galaxy," I was welcome to the knowledge.
And there the war ended between us, and for ever; and with-
in a few months, he sold out the “ Galaxy” to Mr. Moses
Kimball, of the Museum, who engaged me as editor, with H.
Hastings Weld, now an Episcopal clergyman, somewhere in
New Jersey, for an associate; and then, Mr. Henry F. Har-
rington. My duties, I find, began on the 1st of January,
1835, and continued for one year - a long while, for any thing
I had to do with. I wrote voluminously, but with so faint à
recollection of what I did, that not long since, on being asked,
by Mr. Edmond Quincy, about my editorship of the “ Galaxy,"
I had entirely forgotten it, though I well remembered writing
for the paper.
And this brings to my recollection another case - one of
many I might mention, of a similar character. Everybody
knows Mr. Francis (). J. Smith. We had a quarrel one day
about a case before the Municipal-Court. He took advantage
of a poor fellow, and had him defaulted, when he knew that
he had a legal defence, that of infancy, which I refused to
plead at first, and that he had gone up to the wrong court
under a misapprehension, while I was waiting for him, gra-
tuitously. · Smith was insolent, and I told him, in so many
words, that he was a disgrace to the profession, that he ought
to have his skin stripped over his ears, and that I should lay
the case before a committee of the bar. With this view, I
called on General Fessenden, president of the bar at the time,
SETTLED IN PORTLAND.
341
who finally persuaded me to abandon the idea; Smith having
read law with him, and being, with all his faults, a generous,
whole-hearted fellow, of uncommon talents, and exalted ambi-
tion. Of course, I had nothing more to say; but the affair
rankled in Smith's recollection, and he lost no opportunity,
while editor of the “ Eastern Argus," and of some other pa-
per, I believe, though I am not sure, of “thorning” me, as he
called it. Of course, I did not bear it patiently; and our fiery
arrows flew thick and fast, until he, too, thought proper.to say,
that, if I did not hold my peace, and behave better, he should
feel it a duty to enlighten the people of Portland about me.
He did not want to be insulted in the street, knocked down,
or prosecuted, he said; otherwise, he would do it at once.
Whereupon, I called upon him to say any thing he pleased
of me, true or false, pledging myself not to insult nor strike
him; and saying, that if he should be prosecuted for a libel,
I would defend him; and if he should be fined, I would pay
the fine. I give the language from recollection. I cannot,
of course, be sure of the words, though I am of the substance.
And what think you was Mr. Smith's reply? After some
delay, he comes out, and quoting from one of my extravagant
romances, where a character is made to say; “I have sinned
almost beyond the mercy of God” — exclaims, « There!
that's the man himself! What more do we want?”
Of course, there was nothing more to be said ; for what
could I say to such an accusation, so urged, and so supported ?
From that day to this, however, though somewhat slowly, for
the first ten or a dozen years, we have been growing better
acquainted, until, at last, I am willing to acknowledge, that
Mr. Francis O. J. Smith is not so bad a man, after all; and
wish le might be able to say the same thing of me. With
all our faults, and they are plentiful enough, and large enough,
I do believe in my heart, that we have both lived to some
purpose, and mainly to a good purpose. To him, after Morse,
are we indebted for the telegraph; the people of Portland, for
the introduction of gas, and some other enterprises here, not
fully matured, which promise well for this neighborhood.
But to return. While I was occupied with the “ Yankee,”
and somewhat busy with law and literature, sparring and
foncing, I began to have students. Among the first, was Mr.
342
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
James Brooks, now of the “New-York Express," and an M.C.,
then fresh out of Waterville College, with a good reputation
for talent and scholarship. He wanted to write for the
“ Yankee," and I encouraged him; but the first paper was too
well written by half — much too classical -- after the manner
of Dr. Blair and Allison. I would not allow it to appear,
without many changes; but he had the pluck I wanted to
see, and he gave up writing in a dead language, and began to
talk on paper. This saved him, and finally obtained for him,
first, the means of support in one of our schools, then the
editorship of our oldest and best paper, the “ Portland
Advertiser," then employment at Washington, as a reporter,
then the means of going abroad, as a correspondent of the
same paper, and then the editorship and part-ownership of
the “ Express," with a seat in Congress ; where, having re-
nounced and abjured all his old convictions, and lost all his
old political friends, he is now warring to the knife against
the very principles that seemed to be a part of himself, when
he lived here, and was, at one time, a candidate of the Whigs,
for Congress, and came near being sent, I believe. And, by
the way, this reminds me of a curious incident, which
occurred while he was reading law with me. A communica-
tion for the “ Yankee” was received, entitled, “ Johnny Bea-
dle's Courtship.” There were not a few capital touches in it,
but many faults, and lost opportunities. I made such
alterations and additions as I thought proper. It was well
received, and frequently republished; and I always believed
it had been written by a young engraver and portrait-painter,
whom I had taken into my back office, named Appleton. He
did not acknowledge it in so many words, to be sure, but,
when charged with it, did not deny the “soft, impeachment."
After a while, it was credited to Mr. James Brooks: I know
not why, for it was wholly unlike his doings; but, one day,
many years later, it came to my knowledge, that it had been
written by Captain McClintock, of the United States army,
who complained bitterly of the alterations, and amendments,
and threatened to reproduce the story as originally written.
But he never did, and, I dare say, it was well for him that he did
not; for another Yankee story of his appeared somewhere, I
forget where, which was intended to be very funny, but hung
SETTLED IN PORTLAND.
343
fire, and has never been mentioned since, to my knowledge.
Meanwhile, happening to be in New York, I was invited to a
dinner at Delmonico's, one day, by Colonel James Watson
Webb, where I met Major Noah, Mr. Verplank, and other celeb-
rities. After the dinner was through, as people say - meaning,
I hardly know what -- I was called upon to reply to a toast,
as the supposed author of • Johnny Beadle's Courtship.” I
declined, of course; but while some were ascribing it to Mr.
Brooks, and others to me, as if it were really something of
importance, I told the company, that it was by neither of us;
and I have a notion that I gave young Appleton as the
author, and that I did not know, till: two or three years later,
what McClintock had to do with it. On the whole, there was
a strange confusion of thought on the subject. It was called,
by some of the party, "Johnny Beadle's Sleigh-ride," or
“ The Sleigh-ride.?'. Now; I had written a story for the sec-
ond volume of the Yankee," after it ceased to be a weakly,
and had become a monthly, under that very title, “ The
Sleigh-ride." But such mistakes have been frequent in my
experience. Again and again have I been complimented for
my “ Charcoal Sketches,” and have been obliged to say, that,
although I wrote the first, which appeared in a magazine
for June, 1830, the others were by Joseph C. Neal, who
borrowed my heading, and threw off a series of “ Char-
coal Sketches," most of which were exceedingly clever; and
one, " The Loafer," I believe, which I should have been de-
lighted to acknowledge, if I could.
And this reminds me of a question that has been often
asked - Why it is that I have never held office, nor been in
public life. Let me answer that question while I think of it.
I never had a thirst for office, though I have had two or three
narrow escapes -- the narrowest, perhaps, in this way. I was
once called to the platform, in Faneuil Hall, about the time
when “ Know-nothingism” was raging, and introduced to the
people as the Mayor of Portland. Whereupon, I felt obliged
to say, that I never had been, and was not then, and never
expected to be, the Mayor of Portland; that the nearest I
ever came to that honor, was at an election, where, although
I was not even a candidate, one vote was cast for me and
that the people said I had cast for myself. This brought down
the house, and no further explanations were needed.

344
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
I cannot deny that I have been thought of, more than once,
and actually mentioned in the newspapers, either as a candi-
date, or as willing to be a candidate. And once, when I was
on a visit here and, if I do not mistake, at the very time
of my controversy with Dr. Payson, and my explanation
with Master Patten -- it was suggested, quite seriously, by
the late Isaac Adams, a leading politician of the day, that,
if I would pull up stakes at Baltimore, and settle in Port-
land, I should be sent to Congress. But I wouldn't, and —
wasn't.
Again: I was mentioned, and fairly advertised, for the
senate of Maine, I believe, the very year that Governor Kent
was elected; but nothing co.
me of it. I never did run well,
I never could, I never shall. . ..
And furthermore ---- after a great overthrow of the Democ-
racy, at the time of Harrison's election, having labored in
season, and out of season, too, for the great cause, by travel-
ling, and speechifying, and writing, and prophesying, at no
little outlay, both of time and money; paying my own ex-
penses, and sometimes the expenses of other people — I was
distinctly urged to accept the office of United-States District-
ard. I consented; and having obtained lots of signatures
and letters, by personal application, of which I was heartily
ashamed, until another opportunity occurred, had just sent off
the application, when I was informed that the late Honorable
John Holmes wanted the office, and was poor enough to need
it. My papers were in the hands of Mr. Webster — only to
be overlooked, or forgotten, I dare say — when I withdrew my
application, and Mr. Holmes took the office he so well de-
served, and so worthily occupied.
My next attempt ---- considering I was no office-seeker, as I
have said before -- was yet more uncomfortable and mortify-
ing. Not long ago, but just when I most needed a lift, the
Board of Trade here, without consulting me, and without my
kvowledge or consent, proposed my name for Postmaster, at a
day or two after, and not willing that others should do for me
what I was not willing to do for myself, I lost no time in
obtaining both letters and names; all which resulted in the
SETTLED IN PORTLAND.
345
appointment of Judge Woodbury Davis, who told me himself,
that he didn't want it, had never even asked for the office,
and didn't know that he should take it. So much for politics
and politicians ! And so much for electioneering and engineer-
ing! Henceforth, I'll none of it. Sour grapes, at the best,
are hardly worth jumping so high for. After laboring more
than fifty years, for and with one party, through good report,
and through evil report, without faltering, or flinching, or
shirking - never holding office, nor even asking for office,
until urged by party-leaders to accept office - to be fobbed off
in this way, like a superannuated beggar, was a little too much
for me — “much too much," I might say.
I was now beginning to breathe freely once more, and, of
course, felt obliged to keep the community astir, lest we should
all go to sleep together, settle on our lees, or stagnate in our
marriage-beds. The “ Yankee” was doing wonders ; but won-
ders did not satisfy me. We wanted a city-government.
Our old-fashioned municipal government was frightfully ex-
pensive and wasteful, if the time of a laboring population
was worth any thing, and, withal, exceedingly changeable,
inefficient, and uncertain. Two attempts, followed by two
wretched failures, had been made; one, I believe, by no less
a personage than Mr. F. O. J. Smith, supported by the whole
strength of the democratic party, before the first of his many
anew. We had town-meetings called : at one of which, my
good uncle, James Neal, denounced me, in conversation, as an
aristocrat, and insisted upon it, that I had been too long
abroad; while others appeared to think I had not been abroad
long enough. Meanwhile, I issued a sort of manifesto, on a
single page, headed, substantially, in this way: “ Thirty-one
unanswerable reasons — answered." This finished the busi-
ness; for I had answered, fully and completely, every objec-
tion that had ever been raised, to my knowledge. This I
followed up with a pamphlet of about fifty octavo pages, with
tables, petitions, on both sides, and statistics, giving undenia-
ble statistics, where necessary. The result of which was,
notwithstanding the bitter and exasperated opposition among
our wealthiest property-holders, an immediate and overwhelm-
ing triumph. An act of incorporation was had, and our pres-
346
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
ent city government organized without losing a day. What
next? We were without side-walks; our streets were impas-
not wade through portions of Middle-Street; aud if you saw
an aged man poking about in the mud, with a cane, you were
tempted to ask if anybody was missing. Here, too, common
sense and foresight prevailed over long-established prejudices;
and we soon had, not only brick side-walks, instead of rotten
plank; and mica-slate, or talço-slate crossings, instead of cob-
ble-stones, and bottomless-pits. And then, we wanted some-
thing more: a Park, if it was to be had, or, at any rate,
breathing-places, at both ends of the peninsula, where the
population could get a mouthful of fresh air, and look out
upon panoramas of unequalled beauty and vastness, with the
White Hills on one side, and the broad Atlantic ou the other,
and such skies — you'll excuse me, I hope — as are to be
seen nowhere else upon earth; owing to the distribution and
arrangement of sea and river, cove and lakelet; and so, after
with the two beautiful promenades, which render Portland so
attractive to strangers, poets, and landscape-painters. And,
by the way, this reminds me of asking where on earth a pop-
ulation is to be found, varying from about seven or eight
thousand, up to thirty-five thousand, or thereabouts, which
have turned out so many poets and landscape-painters?. Com-
pare Portland with Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Cin-
cinnati, or Chicago, to say nothing of smaller communities,
and then tell me, if you can, why Portland has been so fruit-
ful, and they so barren? We have Neal -- that's myself, in
order of time, the first — Grenville Mellen, Frederick Melleu,
Longfellow, Willis, Cutter, Florence Percy, so called, though
born elsewhere, and at least a dozen other capital newspaper
poets, whose names I cannot recall just now, with Codman,
Tilton, Brown, Beckett, Hudson, all distinguished, and some
celebrated, both abroad and at home, for landscape, with half
a score at present undistinguished, but who threaten to be
heard of hereafter; and some. I know, will keep their promise.
Here, too, we have had Paul Akers, and his brother Charles,
and Simmons, now abroad, for sculptors ; all the inevitable
growth of our large, wholesome, and beautiful scenery, and
well-marked individualities.
HOME TRIALS.
347
In the midst of these triumphs, however, I had occasional
head-flaws; two or three of which may be worth mentioning
here. One day - it was in August, 1828 — I found in my
letter-box, a communication for the “ Yankee,” signed " Au-
gusta," and written in a delicate, female hand Suspecting
no mischief, I allowed it to appear, with an editorial, depre-
cating the condemnation of our wealthiest men, for niggardli-
ness, and protesting not only against some of the conclusions,
but denying some of the facts. Nevertheless, believing it
would do more good than harm, and not suspecting it to be
personal, and most offensively personal, I gave it a birth.
The next day, I had a hornet's-nest about my ears. But who
was the author ? I had no idea. On having the whole affair
explained to me, I sent over to the printing-office, obtained the
manuscript, and put it into the hands of a third party. It
proved to be from the mischief-making, meddlesome Neal
Dow—a man who was taking lessons in sparring of me at
the time, was under my charge at the gymnasium, and
saw me every day of his life. Still, I did not suspect him of
any evil purpose, and looked upon it rather as a strange indis-
cretion, to commit me so cruelly, by sending to my paper a
disguised and anonymous communication, of such a nature,
without saying a word to me on the subject. But this, let
me add, was only the beginning of that man's crafty, cowardly,
and treacherous manoeuvres, whereby he succeeded in deceir-
ing me, for many years, and betraying me at last—and himself
in such a way, that I had no longer any excuse for thinking
well of him, much less for defending him; but of all this
hereafter. The consequences of that publication were quite
serious for me and mine. It embroiled me with a family,
having a large connection, related to ours, both by blood and
marriage, and every way respectable; embittering a whole
neighborhood, together with many of our worthiest and
wealthiest men, so that a feud sprung up between our fam-
ilies, which has continued to this day, among our descendants,
with here and there a single exception. But such trials, like
misfortunes, never come alone. For example: ---
I had been making war upon lotteries, from the day that
“ Logan” appeared, wherein I had argued the question at
length, and shown clearly that lotteries furnished the largest
348
WANDEKING RECOLLECTIONS.
temptation to the worst kind of gambling; since people might
play for thousands, without being known or suspected, or los-
ing their characters, if they grew rich by it; but, on the con-
trary, as churches were built by lotteries, and even the
Baltimore Washington-monument, so that he who employed the
money of others, upon a calculation that what he lost was his
creditors', while what he gained was his own, might pass for
a godly man, or a patriot. And I came near losing my best
friend — Henry Robinson, of Baltimore, one of the partners
with “Waite and Co.," the great lottery-dealers — by what I
said of the business in “Logan.” Abroad, I argued against
legislative encouragement; showing the inconsistency of the
lawgivers, who punish street-gambling for pennies, or mar-
bles, paw-paw, thimble-rigging, faro, &c., while they made it
honorable and patriotic to gamble for thousands, or tens of
thousands, in a lottery; and I had the pleasure of seeing
most of my arguments repeated in the House-of-Commons.
On my return to Portland, I was both grieved and aston-
ished to find scores of lottery-offices established, and in full
blast, along our busiest thoroughfares. No sooner was the
6 Yankee" fairly under way, than I opened fire upon all these
offices, and all their aiders and abettors, both at the bar, and in
our legislative-halls, and never rested, until the system was up-
rooted, not only here, but everywhere, throughout our whole
country, with two or three shameful exceptions. And so with
the militia-system, which I attacked, first, in the “ Westmin-
ster Review," and tore up by the roots, after my return, to-
gether with imprisonment for debt.
While I was pursuing the even tenor of my way - perhaps
it was rather odd, than even, though, after all — I came near
being sent to the penitentiary for my pains. One evening, I
happened to pull out a drawer in my secretary, wherein I
found three or four bank-notes -- all of which I knew to be
counterfeits, except one, but had crossed and put aside, in the
hope of seeing the parties who had passed them to me. So
long a time had gone by, however, that I took these out, and
threw them into the fire. A son of my friend Robinson, al-
ready mentioned, was sitting near me, and exclaimed, '. Oh,
don't burn them, father!” he always called me father — “I
want 'em : give them to me!” “No, no, my boy,” said I,
HOME TRIALS.
349
" they would be likely to get you into a scrape; but here is
one a five-dollar bill, not crossed, you see, because I do not
believe it a counterfeit. You may take this up to Mr. Solo-
mon Mudye, the broker, and see if it is good.” He went,
and soon returned, saying, “ The bill is good, but the bank has
failed. It is worth about fifty cents on a dollar, says Mr.
Mudge.” — “Go back, and take whatever he will give," said
1. After a few minutes, he returned, saying Mr. Mudge
would only pay in lottery-tickets. Here was a temptation !
and I was blockhead enough to be caught.“ Very well,” said
I, “take lottery-tickets, then; and we'll see what comes of
it.” He went, and soon returned, with two or three sixteenths
of something, I forget what. When they were handed to me,
I put them into a little drawer, saying, “ If they produce any
thing, Charley, you shall have the proceeds.” . Charley then
left us for a walk. While he was gone, a thundering knock
was heard at the door; and when it was opened, à rough-
looking fellow entered, without ceremony, and asked for the
lad living with me, who had just passed a counterfeit-bill to
him, for lottery-tickets. I inquired into the circumstances,
and he said that when he objected to the bill, the boy told
him that he had just shown it to Mr. Mudge, who declared it
a “true bill," though the bank had gone into liquidation ; that
he had called on Mr. Mudge, who declared he had never seen
either boy or bill before. The fellow was very angry, and
growing insolent; and I was just on the point of ordering
him out of the house, or of pitching him headlong into the street,
for I had told him plainly, that, if there was any thing wrong
in the transaction, I should not screen the boy, and he would
have to take the consequences; but, while we were.talking to-
gether, Charley returned; and, when questioned and con-
fronted with the accuser, reiterated what he had told us both,
and without a sign of embarrassment. I believed him, and
said so. The fellow grew more saucy; and I took the liberty
of suggesting, before I kicked him out, that counterfeit-bills
were good enough pay for lottery-tickets. After he was
gone, I sent Charles with a note for Mr. Mudge, asking him
to say what had happened. The note was answered, not by
Mr. Mudge, but by Mr. Capen, his clerk; who said that it
was he, and not Mudge, who had answered the boy's inquiry,
350
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
confirming his statement in every particular. Of course, I
felt relieyed, not on my own account, but on his. On further
consideration, however, I found that the insolent scouudrel
had me on the hip. My wife could not be a witness; and,
by charging me with the boy, I could not be a witness for him,
till tried and acquitted.
Next morning, my friend, General Fessenden, who occu-
pied offices on the opposide side of the stair-way, called on
me, and stated that he had just left Judge Fitch, of the
Municipal-Court, who had told him that a complaint had
been entered against the poor boy and myself, and that it
" looked very black ! " I must confess that I didn't much like
the position I occupied; but trusting in my innocence, and
abundant resources, much as I had once in London, before
Sir Richard Birnie, after finding no less than three empty
purses in my coat-pocket, and my own purse missing from
my trousers’-pocket, with every shilling I had on earth, on
my return from the theatre - I walked up to the captain's
office, without winking, to settle my fare. I found the lottery-
man there, the complaint made out, and the judge waiting
for him to sign it. After reading it over, I called for the sig-
nature. The fellow hesitated, and grew pale. I persisted,
and finally offered him fifty dollars on the spot, if he would
sign it. But no: he began to have his misgivings; and after
I had told the story in my own way, just as I have told it
now, refused absolutely. Six or twelve months after this, he
came up to me, and apologized, saying, he had been put up to
it by others, and that he would have acknowledged the truth
long before, but for his dread of my violent temper; the
wretches .who were at the bottom of the conspiracy, whose
names I would give at length, but for a promise I then made,
having assured him that it would be as much as his life was
worth, to enlighten me. But the best of the joke remains to
be told. I took the bill with me to New York, on going
there as a delegate to the “ National Lyceum," and went to a
broker in Wall-Street, who assured me the bill was not coun-
terfeit!- that it was worth something, but how much, he
couldn't say, till' he saw the President, whom he was in the
habit of meeting almost every day. I left the bill with him,
and called in a hurry on the morning of my return to Port-
MAGAZINE WRITINGS.
351
land. The broker was not to be found; though I am quite
sure I found his kennel. And there the matter ended.
While these, and other transactions, of a similar nature,
were happening, I had begun to write for the magazines, the
annuals, and the newspapers; beside publishing, at Portland,
“ Rachel Dyer," one volume, in 1828; “ Authorship," at Bos-
ton, one volume, in 1830; and the “ Down-Easters," at New
York, two volumes, in 1833.
The periodicals I wrote for at the same time, were the fol-
lowing: the “ Atlantic Souvenir,” and “ The Token," as
long as they were issued; the “ Portland Magazine,” edited
by Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, whom I helped from her first
monthly, until she was able to sing for herself, and had got
beyond my reach; the “ New-York Mirror," and the “ New
Mirror," as long as they lasted; the “ Ladies' Companion,"
through seven volumes, from 1837 to 1843; the “ Columbian
Magazine," one volume, in 1844; “ The Family Companion,"
published in Macon, Georgia, two volumes, 1841 and 1842;
the “ Brother Jonathan," through 1813, while edited by Park
Benjamin, after the “ New-Yorker” had been given up, or
swamped, by him and Mr. Greeley, whom I mortally offended
by refusing to write for it, on his application, unless paid in
advance. I had suffered so much by eleemosynary magazines
and newspapers, which promised little, and paid less, that, for
a long while, I had a stereotyped answer for all new enter-
prises — “ Instead of sending you my contributions, and leav-
ing you to say how much they are worth, you may send me
what you please, and I will say how much your money is
worth.” Of course, it looked as if I distrusted the man him-
self, though I did not, and he never forgave me; but Mr.
Benjamin applied to me anew, as soon as he had cut loose
from Mr. Greeley, and I continued to write for the “ Brother
Jonathan" till it breathed its last. I wrote also for the
- New-England Magazine," “ Ladies' Amulet,” “ American
Ladies' Magazine," á Sartain's Magazine,” for “Godey,” for
the “ Indicator,” for the “Union Magazine,” for the.“ Colum-
bian Magazine,” for the “ Dollar Magazine,” for the “ Boston
Book," the “ Ladies' Miscellany," the “ Pioneer,” the “ Ever-
green," the “ Ladies' Magazine," and “ Literary Gazette" -
most of these papers I have lately had occasion to review; and
352
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
I must say, that, although I thought highly of them when first
written — too highly, perhaps – I think better of them now
than ever, with a few exceptions ; for the “United-States
Magazine," through 1856 and 1857; for “ Emerson's and
Putnam's Monthly," in 1857 ; for the " North-American Re-
view ;" for Mrs. Sarah J. Hale's Magazine; for another,
edited by Mr. James Russell Lowell, and a Mr. Carter, whom
I have lost sight of for many years; for the “Knickerbocker,"
when first launched ; for Graham's Magazine ;” for the
“Northern Monthly," and at least half a score of other maga-
zines, most of which were strangled at birth, while none of
the others lived through teething; for the New-York “ Cou-
rier, and Enquirer," at a regular salary, for one or two
years; for the New-York “Sun," as a correspondent; for all
the papers of Portland, year after year, now on the subject
of Temperance, or Banking, or Imprisonment for Debt, which
I had been warring with, at home and abroad, ever since
1818; now upon the Militia-System, Slavery, and Coloniza-
tion, now upon Woman's Rights, and now in favor of the
" Atlantic and St. Lawrence Railroad ;” on some of which
leading subjects, I threw off, literally, volume after volume.
And still later, I have written and published, “ One Word
More," a religious work, and “ True Womanhood," a novel,
stories without number, poems by the score, criticisms upon
Literature and the Fine Arts by the acre, and, last of all, two
or three dime-novels, and other stories for “Beadle," and
“ Beadle's Monthly,” any one of which would have gone far
to establish any man's reputation abroad; another for “ Daw-
ley," entitled, “ Live Yankees, or Down-Easters at Home;"
a favorite title with me, which I had forgotten at the time it
first appeared in the “ Pen and Pencil ;” with memoirs and
sketches, for the 6 Atlantic Magazine," and essays for the
6 Phrenological Journal,” month after month, until, having
gone back to my profession, for the sake of my son, I cannot,
for the life of me, find any thing better to do than to brush up
my “ Wandering Recollections,” before it is too late; partly
because I cannot be idle, and partly to keep myself out of
mischief, in the hope that others may profit by them, though
I should not.
Perhaps, however, it would not be out of place to say here,
SETTLED IN PORTLAND.
353
that within the first twelvemonth after I opened in my
office, in Portland, a great change in my favor took place
among the people about me. One little incident may be
enough to show how it worked here. I have already men-
tioned that General Samuel Fessenden, the father of William
Pitt Fessenden, and of two or three other General Fessendens,
had offices on the opposite side of the passage-way, into which
my rooms opened. One evening, after the second case had
ended, in which we had been opposed, and in my favor, he
came into my office, when the labors of the day were over,
and, after sitting awhile in dead silence, broke out suddenly
with, “Do you remember when you called to inquire about
our taking offices on the same floor?” -“Perfectly!”—“Well,
do you know, that, after we understood you were coming in,
we thought seriously of staying where we were.” —"And why?
On my account?”—“ Precisely ; Deblois and I hesitated a long
while, about coming under the same roof with you.”—“And
why ? in the name of all that is perplexing and astonishing,
do tell me why?”—“Because we were afraid of you.”—“Afraid
of me! and for what reason pray?" "I wish I could tell
you; but, somehow, we had got it into our heads — I know
not how — that you were a dangerous fellow, and little better
than an outlaw." --- Upon my word !” I exclaimed ; "and yet
you can give no reason for the belief.” He shook his head.
“And how do you feel now, General ?” -“ How do I feel
now!” said he, rising up out of his chair as he spoke, and
grasping both of my hands, while tears stood in his eyes: “I
believe, now, that you have been cruelly misunderstood, and
basely calumniated.” From that moment, we have been
capital friends, up to this hour, with two or three trifling
interruptions, to be mentioned hereafter, where I had so much
at stake, that I could not make allowances for the advocate,
which I should refuse to the friend.
About this time, not having irons enough in the fire, I got
married, and amused myself, and sometimes others, by lectur-
ing on all sorts of subjects; literature, eloquence, the fine
arts, political economy, temperance, poets and poetry, public-
speaking, our pilgrim-fathers, colonization, law and lawyers,
the study of languages, natural-history, phrenology, women’s-
rights, self-education, self-reliance, and self-distrust, progress
23
354
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
of opinion, &c., &c., &c.,; and, as others did at the time, for little
more than day-wages. One of these lecturing tours, by the way,
came ntar winding up the life-drama I was playing, before I
had reached the third act. We were at Norwich, my wife and
I, on our way to " Cowes and a market," and our landlord put
us into a little room newly painted, made a coal-fire, and tuuned
the damper. In the night, I woke with a frightful headache,
and tried to open the window; and that was the last I
remembered. When I came to myself, my poor wife was
deluging me with cold water, as I lay helpless on the floor.
Unwilling to raise the house, poor thing, she did what, after
all, was the better and wiser course — trusted wholly to her-
self, notwithstanding her own headache, and saved my life, as
she once saved our house, when a fire broke out, and she was
alone, “all, all alone;" and once since, where, though most
wives would have been frightened out of their wits, she let me
“ slide,” when I had faiuted in my chair, without alarming the
neighbors, &c., &c. Nor was I altogether satisfied with this
occupation. I had been worth money : I wanted to be worth
money again; but how should I manage it? Our best
lawyers lived only from hand to mouth; and most of them,
after struggling awhile, with their chins just out of water, got
starved out, or married into some rich family, and went into a
safer business. And literature was even more precarious.
Authors, whatever might be their popularity, were sure to be
supplanted, or go out of fashion, if they gave the public time
to breathe; and lecturing — whew !- unless you made a busi-
ness of it, and wrote your lectures out, as I never did — my
notes never exceeding half a page — and went over the land,
east, west, north, and south, reading the same lecture, it was
hardly worth following.
But how came I to lecture - and lecture, too, extempore? —
I, who, but a few years before, would not venture to address a
sabbath-school, and was not equal to a supper-speech before
the students of Bowdoin I, who had never delivered so much
as a written Fourth-of-July oration, nor committed a page of
any thing to memory, from my earliest boyhood - I, wlio had
never opened my mouth, indeed, on a platform, and but once
in a pulpit; and before a court or jury, never thought of mak-
ing a speecli, or preparing a speech, or dabbling in poetry or
rhetoric ?
WOMAN'S RIGHTS.
355
-
-
Let me explain this in a measure, just here, giving the
details by and by. Not long after I had settled in Portland,
Mr. William W. Thomas, the president of our Temperance
organization, called on me to deliver an address before the
society, in Dr. Nichols's Church. I did not tell him that I
had never attempted such a thing, in all my life, that, having
no experience in the management of my voice in a large build-
ing, I could not answer for myself; but accepted the invitation
at once, without quailing or trembling, as if it were something
I had been accustomed to all my life, and was never unpre-
pared for. This was in February, 1829. The church was
crowded, and the address well received. My next written
address, or, perhaps, it were better to say oration, was delivered
before a society of Waterville-College, at the solicitation of
Mr. James Brooks, one of my students, who had been gradu-
ated there. It was entitled, “ Our Country," and created, I
was told, quite a sensation. This was in July, 1830. Within
six months afier, that is, in January, 1831, I delivered another
written address before the Mechanics’- Association, of Port-
land, followed by a Fourth-of-July oration, the same year, I
believe, in which I broke ground, extemporaneously, without
preparation or notice, upon “Woman's Rights." In July,
1838, I gave another Fourth-of-July oration; and in Septem-
ber, 1848, I gave my last written address, under the title of
“Man," before a brotherhood of Brown University. Of the
foregoing, all but my unwritten and unprepared Fourth-of-
July oration were printed and published, and are still to be
had, I dare say, in the waste-paper shops, if nowhere else, and
are all worth reading, nevertheless.
But I have wandered a little, and have not answered my
own question about extemporaneous speaking. That I will
try to answer in a few minutes, but just now, that I may have
it off my mind, let me mention here what I did in the way of
money-getting, after I found that neither law, physic, nor
divinity paid, like many kinds of business, which required no
education, and little or no capacity. I had married, when so
poor that on paying forty dollars for a table, which we have
now, and which the cabinet-maker was warned not to deliver,
till he got his pay, I felt very much as if I had committed the
unpardonable sin, though I was beginning to earn money, if not
356
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
2
to lay up money, and had my profession, my pen, my sparring
and fencing classes, and my editorship to reckon upon. After
making up my own mind, and without allowing the woman I
wanted, to know or even to suspect my purpose, I applied first
to her mother; saying I must have her consent, to be in with.
“ Had I been accepted by the daughter ?" she asked. “ No," I
replied. “So far from being accepted by her, I have not even
mentioned the subject to her. Nor shall she ever know of my
intention, till I have your consent, and that of your husband,
giving you time to make what inquiries you please, either
about me, or of me.”—“Let me tell you then," said the mother,
" she will never marry you.” –“Be it so, madam,” was my
reply ;“ but if I have your consent, I shall then go to your hus-
band : and if he has no objection, then I shall do my best to win
your daughter.” She smiled, shook her head, but made no
further objection. I then assailed the father, saying in the
fewest possible words, and without any circumlocution, or
nonsense, “ I want your daughter for my wife. I do not ask
for any thing with her.” I did not then know, by the way, that
he was a man of substance, but supposed him to be in com-
fortable circumstances -- nothing more — living frugally, and
doing, at best, but a small commission-business. “I am able
to maintain her without your help, sir," said I; 6 and all I ask
is your consent, that I may win her if I can.” He was not a
little astonished, when I told him that I had not even men-
tioned the subject to his child, and still more, I believe, when
I added that I never should mention it, unless I had the con-
sent of both father and mother, to begin with. It was for
them, and not for the daughter, to make the proper inquiries :
I had seen enough, too much, perhaps, of stealing the child's
heart, before the parents were consulted. I had always been in
love from my earliest boyhood; and I knew what sacrifices
women were capable of, and something of what women might
be persuaded to do, without ever troubling either mamma or
papa, after the affections were once engaged. For ten or a
dozen years, I had been waiting till I should be rich enough to
marry. I could afford to wait no longer : the dreariness, the
loneliness, the desolation, the utter hopelessness of a bachelor's
life, I had a horror of; and so, without giving these or any
other reasons to the father, I demanded a categorical answer,
SETTLED IN PORTLAND.
357
not in so many words, to be sure, but in choicer language.
Go ahead,” was the substance of his reply. I took advan-
tage of the suggestion; and on the 12th of October, 1828, we
were married and — but this, dear reader, is between our-
selves — have always been among the happiest couples I ever
knew, or heard of. God be thanked! I may as well mention
hiere, that, in 1821, I was about being married to Rosalba,
eldest daughter of Rembrandt Peale, a very superior woman,
but she found me out, and sent me adrift — for which I am
afraid she has never been sufficiently thankful; but the woman
I did marry at last, has never to my knowledge been sorry for
Miss Peale's decision, nor thought of applying for a divorce,
which, at the end of forty years, is saying a good deal for
both; nor have I.
This question settled, I began to cast about for something
that would be likely to pay, and pay, too, without risk. I was
no speculator, no adventurer: I was willing to work, and
work hard for a living; but I wouldn't gamble, and had long
before made up my mind, give what I might, never to risk a
dollar which I could not afford to lose, in any way, whatever
might be the temptation. This saved me from the land-fever,
and probably from two or three brain-fevers, from half a dozen
oil, and gold, and copper undertakings, and not a few delirious
patent enterprises. It were easy enough to make money,
blockheads made money every day, hand over hand: men
who could do nothing else, could make money; but the dif-
ficulty was in keeping it. Example made others crazy. It
never influenced me. I stood by myself. I had seen two men
meet, one carrying an umbrella open, the other an umbrella
shut. As they passed each other, the first closed his with
emphasis, and the other spread his in a hurry. So much for
example, said I: I'll none of it hereafter.
Being about to build for myself, I prepared the plan for a
block of eight houses, offering to sell the lots, 26 by 110 feet,
on our widest and most fashionable street, for three hundred
dollars apiece, which would be now worth five thousand at least,
to any person who would build with me, according to that plan,
so as to secure an outward uniformity, leaving each to build
the interior as he liked. While purchasing the materials for
cash, making my contracts, and preparing for the work, some
358
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
of those who had engaged to build with me, failed in business,
during the crash of 1836; while others undertook to build for
themselves, on Park-Street, according to my plan, four stories,
including a comfortable basenient, above ground; but substi-
tutiog bricks for granite, or gneiss; and wooden cornices and
gutters for copper, and shingles, for galvanized iron or zinc,
whereby they saved a few hundreds, and succeeded in pro-
ducing a huge, unsafe, unsightly row of tall houses, which
passed then, and still pass for a factory, with strangers, though
the long descending front has lately been broken up, in two or
three places, by projecting windows, and porticos, which have
materially improved the architectural appearance of the row.
This obliged me to build two houses for myself, instead of one,
that certain irregularities in the plan, by being doubled, might
produce uniformity.
I had found what was called granite, in use for steps and
fences and store-fronts; most of it being sienite, however,
and the rest, gneiss. Upon further investigation, I found to
my amazement, that some of it had been discovered in Hal-
lowell, and actually dressed in the State's Prison, at Thomas-
town; that some was from Quincy, Mass., very dark, but
full of “knots” and pyrites, like the Tremont-House in
Boston, which was completely honeycombed, within five years
after it was built, notwithstanding the care of Mr. Thomas
Perkins, who owned the quarry, to furnish the best possible
specimens ; that our custom - house was from Sandy-Bay,
Gloucester, an ugly brownish-gray, but pure stone, like that
of the Parkman-Houses, in Bowdoin-Square, Boston; and, what
was still more extraordinary, that we had a large block of
stores, in Portland, built of stone from Concord, N.H., which
had been split from bowlders! And this, when we had
within a few miles of us, at North-Yarmouth, Biddeford,
Kennebunkport, and all along that neighborhood, as well as
farther east; a material, every way superior to any of these
mentioned, and some of it so unlike any to be found elsewhere,
that of the “United States Quarry,” for example, at Kenne-
Emperor of Russia, to look at our buildings and building-
materials, declared it in his official report, to be, all things
BUSINESS ENTERPRISES.
359
considered, for color, purity, compactness, and strength, and
resisting power, the best building-material he had ever met
with, anywhere, in any country, for public purposes.
Long before we had obtained this testimony, however, I had
bought the North-Yarmouth Quarry, of which my houses were
built; a very fair material, though far from being what I sup-
posed, when I secured the whole, under an apprehension that
the contractor might be unable to finish his contract, if he
were interfered with by speculators; another quarry, on the
Saco River, which we called the “ Hollis Granite Quarry,"
though it was not in Hollis, and not a granite, but a sienite,
of extraordinary promise, and great purity, on the Saco River,
but absolutely worthless, when it came to be quarried for any
thing larger than ashler; and the “United-States Quarry,"
which proved to be the very best building-material to be found;
near enough to be brought chiefly by water, and abundant as
we could wish. Other samples were brought me from every
part of the country, but nothing to be compared with these.
The problem I had been laboring with, was now to be solved.
There was “money” in these quarries, to borrow a phrase, lately
come into use; and money enough to satisfy any reasonable
man. The quarries being secured, associations were formed,
charters obtained, operations begun, and the stone from the
United-States Quarry was introduced, not only into Portland -
where the large, handsome Exchange, and Post-Oflice were
built of it, and stone-fronts came into general use -- but into
New-York; the result of which was, first, that we have made
ourselves altogether independent of supplies from abroad, and
never think of going beyond Biddeford, Kennebunkport
North-Yarmouth, Hallowell, and Augusta, for any thing we
need in the shape of granite or gneiss; and, secondly, that I
made what was called “ a good thing” of it, for myself.
And now, having secured a comfortable nest-egg -- the
foundation of a reasonable prosperity, which has been con-
tinued from that day to this — I began to think seriously of
what I owed to others, though far from being a devout, or
even a religious man. My wife's mother had proposed one
stipulation, however, and but one, at the very beginning of
my courtship. She was afraid, as I had no particular denomi-
national tendency, and acknowledged myself both a Univer-

360
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
salist and a Unitarian, that I might lead her daughter astray,
in religious belief, and therefore made me promise to go to her
meeting; she herself being a member of Dr. Payson's Church.
I had no objection : “my wife might go where she pleased,
and I would go with her.” This I continued to do under the
ministry of Dr. Tyler, and Mr. Vail, for eight or ten years ;
then, after we had got into our new house, under that of Mr.
Beckwith, in High-Street, followed by that of Dr. Chickering,
under whom, in the year 1851,' my wife, my twin-sister, and
myself joined the Orthodox-Church; my sister forsaking her
undeniable, though long-neglected Quakerism, and dying in
the faith; my wife and I, our indifference to sectarianism
- I might say, our dislike of it — and becoming, I hope and
believe, both sincere and hearty in our acceptance of the
trinitarian doctrines.
But I have wandered far away from one, at least, of the
many paths, constantly diverging, that lay before me, at the
opening of this chapter.
Let me gather up some of the loose threads, that lie now
within reach, while I may, lest the warp and woof may not
hang together, and some of the flowers and figures may be
lost sight of, or be misunderstood. That very “tall oaks from
little acorns grow," will be seen by what follows.
While getting ready, in a quiet way, for house-keeping, it
occurred to me, all at once, in making my drawings, and pre-
parations for the furniture, every piece of which was designed
by myself, that all this lacquered trumpery we were accustomed
to on our mahogany furniture, was pitiful and preposterous;
the handles of our bureaus, the claw-feet of our tables and
sofas, and even our best door-knobs, being of brass, washed
with a glittering varnish. But how was this to be remedied ?
What should we substitute for lions' claws ? and what for
knobs and handles? I began with a sort of scroll, in which
the caster was imbedded, or sunk, for the sofas and tables.
The first cabinet-maker I employed, and he was the best, when
I gave him a drawing for an ebony knob, and another for the
foot of a table, remonstrated with me more than once, and
almost refused to do what I required, upon the ground that
the sofas and tables would be club-footed, and the beautiful
workmanship itself would suffer, saying that his brethren of the
EXTEMPORE DOINGS.
361
craft were all of the same opinion, and that if I would not have
lacquered feet, handles, and knobs, they begged me to use, at
least, the glass and plated knobs that were just coming into
use from Philadelphia, and then perhaps the beauty of the
cabinet-work would not be utterly lost in the furniture, or
“ killed.” They knew I should never like it, after it was done,
they said. But I persisted — of course. And what were the
consequences ? Within three years, ebony-handles were in
general use, throughout the country: club-feet, for tables and
sofas, were all the “ rage ;” and my patterns were found every-
where, even at Cincinnati and Chicago : I saw them there
myself. The importations of lacquered ware ended for ever; and,
by the time I was ready to build, ebony-handles, of the very
pattern first used in Portland, were to be met with in all our
furnishing and hardware stores, imported from England. Up
to this time, the yearly importations of lacquered ware, knobs,
handles, and feet, had averaged over six hundred thousand
dollars a year: millions, therefore, had been saved to the
country by these two or three little changes I have mentioned.
Who will deny, therefore, that “tall oaks” — very tall oaks —
“from little acorns grow,” plant them where you may ?
But how came I to be a ready and fluent extemporaneous
debater and lecturer ? That question, I have not yet
answered. It happened in this way. I knew, like Sheridan,
that I had it in me; but I was in no hurry to have it out,
as I had, authorship, poetry, &c., &c. Having been assured
by some of my best friends at Baltimore, that, whatever else
I might be, I should never be a speaker, I determined to
bide my time; and, when the proper occasion should arrive, to
lanch out - sink or swim - hit or miss — live or die. I did
not believe in written speeches : I had no faith in volumi-
nous, or even liberal notes. One is always beginning, every
time he looks off, and tries to extemporize. “If we cannot sup-
ply these gaps," said Mr. Pierpont and Dr. Nichols to me,
show can we ever do more?” — " It would not be doing more,"
I said, “ but less. Beginning a speech is like beginning a let-
ter. “There all the danger lies ;” and by the time you get
fairly a-going, and are warm with your subject, you have to
pull up, and look at your notes, and begin avew with your
patchwork. At any rate, as I preach, I shall practise.” And
362
WANDERING. RECOLLECTIONS.
.
I did; succeeding, not of course to my own satisfaction, or
there I should have stopped, and for ever, but to the satisfac-
tion of others, better judges than myself, I dare say! And not
long after this, when I had begun to find it easier to talk to
thousands than to scores, as in the Tabernacle, or Tammany-
Hall, or out in the open air, my friend Pierpont one day,
having left behind a manuscript sermon, which he was to
deliver at Lynn, was obliged to extemporize; and being pro-
digiously complimented on the best thing he ever did in the
pulpit, underwent a transfiguration, so that he became a ready
and eloquent speaker, without notes, upon a variety of subjects,
before he was called home; and so with that excellent and
godly man, Dr. Nichols, before his death; and as for myself,
I claim to be so ready with spontaneous utterance, that, for
many years, I have not dared to trust myself with a speech
unless taken wholly by surprise ; and then, I never amplify
but endeavor to be brief and clear, without rhetoric, or poetry
quotation, exaggeration, or embellishment, having outgrown, I.
hope, all the boyish ambition for display, so common to most
men, after they have once overcome a constitutional embar
rassment. Mere applause, mere popularity, had never much
power with me. I have always thought so well of myself,
that public opinion has never influenced me, against my own
convictions.
That I have always been able to withstand certain kinds of
temptation, I acknowledge, while to others I have yielded,
like a simpleton, without excuse. For example: I never
could be tempted to join the other party in politics, or religion ;
and, while writing for “Blackwood," I refused to write a
review of “ Margaret Lyndsay,” by Professor Wilson, though
delighted with the book; simply, because Professor Wilson
was Christopher North, upon whose favor, as editor of “ Black-
wood," I might be supposed a little dependent; but then a
word or a look would bring me into the field; and I have
always been fighting other people's battles ever since I can
remember.
TEMPERANCE.
363
CHAPTER XX.
TEMPERANCE.
THE MAINE LAW, NEAL DOW; PUNCH; RUM-CHERRIES; USED FOR A
DECOY; MALAGA; VIDUNIA; BOSTON TRIALS; BALTIMORE; ABROAD;
WINE-CELLAR; TEMPERAYCE; COXTROVERSY, PUBLIC MEETINGS; DE-
BATES; MAINE-LAW; NEAL DOW; THE CITY ENGINEER; THE TRUE
STORY; GROG-SHOPS AND ROW-DE-DOWS; EVASIONS OF THE LAW;
STATE CONVENTION.
1
“ WATER, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink ! " instead
of Dirigo, might well be our State-legend.
The Maine law having done about all the mischief it can
hope to do, and my opposition to it, from the first, though al-
ways a friend of temperance, having been shamefully misrep-
resented by the bigots and fanatics of the day, I propose to
give a comprehensive, though brief sketch of its origin,
growth, and history, and also of its reputed author, Mr. Neal
Dow.
Being of Quaker parentage, it may well be supposed that
I had no predisposition for strong drink. Up to the age of
ten, I knew the taste of only one kind of liquor; and that
was gin. Twice or three times, perhaps, when it had been
used for medicine, by my mother, I had been allowed to taste
the sugar, which had been left in the tumbler; but I had no
liking for the gin flavor. It was the sugar I wanted.
Once, at a supper, given by “ Uncle Simeon,” after what we
call a “ Raising," they had hot punch. This, too, I tasted of,
and took such a fancy to, that I sipped, and sipped, as the
glasses were carried by me through the entry, till I began to
be light-headed. Going out into the open air, I behaved so
foolishly, for a few minutes, that my condition was guessedat,
by a neighbor. This happened when I was about eleven, I
should say; but still, though I had a relish for hot punch,
I had none for the consequences. A sort of loathing followed;
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
and from that day to this, I have not drunk to the amount of
a single tumbler.
And one day, but whether before, or after this, I cannot
be sure, though I think it must have been long before, I hap-
pened to be fishing for smelts and tommy-cods, at a wharf, on
which a quantity of old rum-cherries were emptied. All the
boys rushed to the spot, wlien they saw the cask tipped over,
and most of us gobbled up a few handfuls in a furious hurry.
I was made sick by them; but so little did I know of sick-
ness, in any shape, that I supposed it owing to the sight of a
large conger-eel — the first and last I ever saw — which lay
swelling and writhing and twisting on the wharf, with all its
loathsome breathing-holes exposed. The sickness did not
last long, I believe, not more than half an hour, at most; but
it gave me a dislike for rum-cherries and conger-eels, which I
have not been able to overcome to this day.
My next trial occurred when I had passed the age of
twelve, and was a shop-boy, with Munroe and Tuttle, corner
of Middle and Union Streets. We baited our traps with
brandy, old Jamaica, anise-seed, and cordials. To persuade
our customers, I was employed as a decoy, and after inviting
them to “take hold," and "help themselves," I used to make-
believe drink; but my drinking amounted only to this: I
would dip a lump of loaf-sugar into the brandy aod water, and
suck it. After a while, however, I found that I used less
sugar, and more brandy, occasionally sipping a spoonful; so
that my face grew red -- red enough to send me to the glass,
after overhearing a remark about my fresh color. From that
moment, I determined to drink no more; not another drop of
any thing that could intoxicate. And I kept my resolution,
faithfully and scrupulously, until I had passed the age of
twenty, with two exceptions, though taunted with my want
of spirit and manliness, by all my companions ; for I went so
far as to refuse to play for liquor at the nine-pin-alleys. For
this, I was only laughed at as a milksop. Nobody praised
me, nobody encouraged me. I stood alone -- altogether alone,
among all my associates.
The first exception was this. I was fond of sweet cider,
and had a singular liking for sweet wipe, which I had happened
to taste of, one day, after doing an errand for a sea-captain's
TEMPERANCE.
365
wife, who had given me noyeau before. Not understanding
the nature of this wine – Malaga — and not apprehending
any danger, I used to buy a pint on Saturday evening, and
worry it all down before the next Monday morning, by myself.
But I soon wearied of this: the beverage itself became dis-
agreeable; and, preferring companionship without liquor, to
solitude with, I threw that aside, and have never touched it
since.
The second exception occurred while I was in the store of
Mr. Benjamin Willis. He always had liquors and wines for
sale, and, among them, what he called Vidonia. To this, I
took a decided fancy. It was weak and pleasant, and, with a
few lumps of loaf-sugar which I dipped into it, by no means un-
palatable. But something — I cannot row remember what -
awoke me to a sense of my danger; and I broke off, at once,
and for ever, with Vidonia, also.
From this moment, I became satisfied that I never should
be safe, unless I made up my mind to touch not, taste not,
handle not. And so I resolved anew; and that resolution I
held to, for many years, and sometimes under very trying cir-
cumstances. For example: Being at Mr. Pierpont's table
one day, in 1814, I was urged by his brother-in-law, MIr. Jo-
seph L. Lord, to take wine with a beautiful creature, who was
just recovering from a terrible attack of insanity. He well
knew that I never draiik a drop of any liquor; that I had
forsworn every thing of the sort; and yet, having filled my
glass, without my knowledge or consent, he persisted. I shook
my head: he pushed the glass toward me, and was just about
calling the attention of the young lady herself to our contro-
versy, when I lost my patience, and broke out with, “I'll be
d-d if I do!” greatly to the amusement, if not to the
guests.
After this, I went to Baltimore, and never faltered in my
resolution but once, while there. At a thanksgiving-supper,
I drank of some preparation, I know not what, which came
near tripping my heels; for the platform rose up steadily be-
had that uncomfortable sensation. But I was not so far gone,
as to lose either my self-possession or bodily strength; for I
366
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
took a stout, heavy Englishman, who had become helpless in
the open air, under one arm, and carried him up two flights
of stairs, holding on by the balusters with my left hand, as I
forged ahead, with my cargo resting on my right hip.
After this, I went abroad — was gone over three years
returned, married, became a father, and having built a house
with a wine-cellar, and “ laid in " a reasonable quantity of the
best wines to be had, about five hundred bottles, I sliould say
now, though there may have been more —- six or seven hun-
dred, perhaps — consisting of Madeira, Sherry, both pale and
brown, Port, and Muscat. Although I did not drink, and had
not drunk for twenty years, a bottle of wine a year, and was
unacquainted with the taste of other liquors, yet I remem-
bered the flavor of gin, and the smell of Santa-Cruz and
Jamaica. The wine, being bottled off, was hoarded, not for
myself or my family; though, at one time, Old-Port being
prescribed for my wife, I dosed her with decoctions of log-
wood and sloe-juice, from the London-docks, under that name,
with a single glass, once a day, till she turned up her nose
over it, and positively declined the rough, generous beverage.
When there were strangers dining with us, we had on our
table, at least, three kinds of wine, or what was called wine:
Old-Port for my wife, Sherry or Madeira for strangers, and
Muscat for the children. Of this Muscat, I used to pour a
spoonful into a liqueur-glass, fill it up with water, and allow
them to smack their lips over it; having a notion that wine
was the gift of our Heavenly Father, a type of spiritual
blessing, like oil and corn; that the “strong drink” of Scripture
was not wine; that our Saviour understood his business, and
must have foreseen the consequences, when he manufactured
wine out of water, and probably drank of it himself, and
when he commanded the disciples to drink of it evermore,
in commemoration of his death and probably set the exam-
ple, for how could he refuse? — and that Paul understood
the question, when he prescribed a little wine to Timothy, for
his “stomach's sake, and his many infirmities;” that such
wines could not have been sweetened water, nor unfermented
not be fairly misunderstood. If wine be a poison, and always
a poison, let us change the phraseology in the following, and
TEMPERANCE.
367
other passages, and see how it will sound. “ Come, buy poz-
son and milk, without money and without price.” “Take a
little poison for thy stomach's sake.” — “ Poison that maketh
the heart glad," &c., &c. Yet more: I believed, that if wine
were as plentiful in the north, as it was in the south of Eu-
rope, it would do more for the cause of temperance, there,
and, after a time, here, than all our preaching, all our legisla-
tion, and all our exasperating sumptuary laws, and all our
misrepresentation and exaggeration. I did not then foresee
what must happen before long: that California would become
a vineyard for the world, and that the wines of Ohio, like
those of California, would soon disenchant our wine-bibbers
of their prejudice in favor of imported wines, and thereby
promote the cause of temperance everywhere, by making
pure wines plentiful and cheap. Nor did I foresee that all
wines and liquors would be counterfeited, adulterated, drugyed,
and poisoned our California and Ohio wines along with the
rest — until wine-drinkers, like brandy-drinkers and whiskey-
drinkers, would be in constant danger of their lives. What
I wanted was a pure wine, and that, I then believed, and still
believe, would promote the cause of temperance more effect-
ually than either legislation, or blackguarding, falsehood, or
vituperation. But where shall we go for pure wine ? Not
on earth, I am afraid, nor anywhere, till we drink it new with
our Saviour, in the kingdom of heaven. I acknowledged the
evils of intemperance; I saw them all about me. They
could not well be exaggerated; the only question was about
the remedy.
But one day, while entertaining these views, having a
stranger or two from abroad at our table, after one of them
had filled his glass, and I had touched mine to my lips —- noth-
ing more - our eldest child, Mary, reached toward me the
liqueur-glass, which was by the side of her plate, and whis-
pered, “I want some, father;" and I was just on the point
of pouring out her allowance of Muscat, not exceeding a
table-spoonful, at most, so that, after dilution, it was nothing
more than a sweetened water, when my wife gave me a sig-
nal, and pointed to the vinegar-cruet; I took the hint-
regarding the suggestion as a bit of pleasantry — and poured
out for the child a glassful of the sharpest wine-vinegar;
368
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
-
whereupon, the boy held out his glass, and I filled it in the
same way. To my utter amazement, the little wretches
emptied their glasses, and were asking for “More, father,
more," while I was helping our guest. This frightened me,
and set me thinking. If example had such power with little
children, of three and four, I believe, or at most four and five,
years of age respectively, what might not be hoped, or
feared, from example with adults? And why not insist on
example, making it more disgraceful for a man of education
and refinement, of position and talent, than for an Irish la-
borér, a poor, lowly, uneducated man, to get drunk, or to be
found tippling?
My duty was now clear. I determined to have no more
wine at my table, either at dinners or parties; and I never
bave, to this day: to give no wine to our guests, until the
experiment had been fairly tried of regulating our households
by law; a remedy for intempérance, which I had 10 belief
in. And to that resolution I have also adhered, from that day
to this; though I stood almost alone for twenty years, among
all but the ramping, vociferous, unrelenting tee-total-ers.
It was about this time that the stir began; the terrible
commotion, I might say, among those who, instead of regard-
ing the injunction, " Be temperate in all things,” were furiously
intemperate on the subject of temperance; making total abi-
stinence the condition of citizenship, and almost of salvation.
A public meeting was called, and I was earnestly and spe-
cially invited, by the late Deacon Woodbury Storer, one of
our best men, to be present. It was held in Dr. Payson's
church, the largest in town, which was crowded to the ceil-
‘ing, house, and aisles, and galleries; and Mr. Storer was called
to the chair. Matters went on smoothly enough, so long as
mere declamation, wild extravagant assertion, without proof,
and the commonest conm2012-place had full swing; but, by and
by, when a resolution was offered, and what was called the
" Wine-question” was sprung upon us, denouncing wine
altogether, eveu for the sick, and banishing it from the com-
munion-table, I objected; giving two or three reasons, and
pointing out what I believed to be very serious mistakes, in
the arguments and statistics we had been favored with.
Whereupon the chair — this very Deacon Storer, the amia-
.
TEMPERANCE.
369
ble and just man, who had invited me specially to take a part
in the discussion - had the kindness to tell me that I was in-
vited for no such purpose, and that all they required of me
was my assent.
Feeling not only aggrieved, but grossly affronted at this, I
moved an adjournment; promising to take not more than one
hour to show their mistakes in physiology, in chemistry, in
theology, and in vital statistics. The motion prevailed; and,
of course, I had the floor.
Notwithstanding the difficulty I find in remembering words,
I have a wonderful memory for connected reasoning, and
facts, and argument. I have sat through a debate, day after
day, and evening after evening, for a whole week, without
taking a note; and then, in a single hour, I have answered all
the arguments, and so far silenced all my adversaries, that
they had nothing more to say; and obtained, first, a trium-
phant decision by vote, and then the immediate organization
of a society in favor of the views I had been urging. This I
did in a debate with General Fessenden, the father, and his
coadjutors, when they assailed the Colonization-Society; first,
in a Fourth-of-July oration, delivered by him; and then, in a
debate which lasted a whole week, if I remember aright.
Of course, therefore, I was in no danger of forgetting what
had been urged by the different speakers upon the wine-ques-
tion. But after I had thrown down the glove, the late Judge
Preble, our ex-minister to the Hague, who had been present,
called upon me and begged me to abandon the idea. - You
have already shown the weakness and folly of these cham-
pions; and why not allow them to have their own way, and
make still greater fools of themselves, if they insist upon
the privilege?” “Not the least objection in the world," said
I; “save that, having promised, or threatened, it would never
do for me to back out, or withdraw."
The appointed evening arrived. “We met — 'twas in a
crowd.” I took out my watch, laid it on the table before me,
and after quoting a passage from Dr. Rush, and others from
the Bible, I gave the testimony of chemists and physiologists,
and of Anderson, in his “ History of Commerce," where, if I
remember aright, over twelve thousand prosecutions had to be
abandoned in England, after the guinea-a-gallon-tax was
21
.
:.
370
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
laid on liquors; because - mark you — because it drove all
the honest dealers out of the business, and operated as a
bounty on the manufacture of drugged and poisonous prepa-
rations; replied to every argument that had been urged, cor-
recting every misrepresentation as I went along, and finished
within the hour, greatly to the satisfaction of Judge Preble
himself, and others of large calibre.
The meeting then proceeded to assign portions of the reply
to different gentlemen. Dr. Vinton, of the Episcopal Church,
now of New-York, was to take up the Bible argument; some-
body else, I forget whom, the chemical, not medical; and
another eminent somebody, the physiological. I did not at-
tend that meeting; I had accomplished my purpose; I had
shown that there were undeniably two sides to the question ;
and what more could I desire ? But I understood from others
that the speakers were both courteous and complimentary to
me, doing full justice to my motives, and acknowledging the
strength of my leading positions, and the undeniable sound-
ness of the arguments urged.
Meanwhile, that I might be no hindrance to the work,
though much of it I believed to be both dangerous and mis-
chievous, and quite sure to exasperate, instead of soothing, I
gave away all the wine in my cellar — portions of it to AIr.
Neal Dow himself, who wanted it for the sick, he said ; let
Cape-Cottage, a sort of marine-villa, with extensive grounds,
which I owned, upon the shores of Cape-Elizabeth, for a price
which brought me in debt every year to the landlord, because
I would not allow him to sell any kind of liquor, when I was
offered six hundred a year, if I would take off the restriction;
and finally bought a store of my sister, and suffered it to lie
idle for a twelvemonth or so, because a confectioner, to whom
I had leased it for her, would sell liquor in spite of the re-
strictions, and she could not afford to lose the rent; and all
this, against my own convictions, to help the cause of tem-
perance, while they who disagreed with me were experiment-
ing in a way that cost them little or nothing, and which I
believed to be both hurtful and mischievous.
Yet more. I refused to defend parties prosecuted, after the
Maine-Law was carried through, by mountebanks and politi-
cians (tautology), instead of Christian reformers, patriots, and
MR. NEAL DOW.
371
philanthropists; on one occasion saying, when they wished
me to sign a petition to the Legislature, demanding higher
penalties and aggravations, that such a law could never be
enforced, nor would it ever be passed, unless our lawgirers
were either drunk or crazy ; and that it would repeal itself,
as it did within a few months. And from this rule I never
departed but once; and that was when Margaret Landrigan, a
poor, but generous, kind-hearted Irish woman, was charged
by a drunken vagabond with selling liquor, because she
would not open her doors to him, but sent for the police, and. .
had him carried off to the station-house, where, under the
same execrable law, she was required to give two bonds,
amounting to three hundred dollars, with four different sile-
ties, before an appeal would be allowed; thereby preventing
an appeal, in forty-nine cases out of fifty, no matter how great
the hardship, nor how evident the malice or falsehood of the
witness; a fellow, by the way, I had warned Mr. Dow
against, who was tried, for perjury, and, I believe, convicted
in some of these cases.
Feeling both indignant and sore, at such proceedings, I
undertook her defence, and got a brother-in-law, a most
respectable physician, and two other personal friends, and
relations, to sign the bond with me, promising to hold them all
harmless ; the result of which was her ultimate acquittal.
But my friend and cousin, the “Honorable Neal Dow," our
“ Chief Engineer," what did he for the cause, while I was
laboring in the way I have mentioned, and making the
sacrifices I have now acknowledged ? Nothing, whatever
absolutely nothing, beyond what I am about to specify.
While he was paid with cash and silver-pitchers --- at his own
suggestion, it was believed — for lecturing gratuitously, I was
laboring from first to last, year after year, without pay, and
always at my own cost and charges.
“None, to speak of," said the old bachelor, when asked how
many children he had; and so with me, when asked, hitherto,
what sacrifices I have made for the cause, my answer has
always been, “None to speak of.” But having been mis-
represented and, I may as well say it, in plain English, belied,
by the temperance champions, following Mr. Dow's lead, for
nearly a generation, I have determined to bear it no longer,
372
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
and to leave a record behind me, which will be a conclusive
answer, to their calumnies, when I am in my grave.
But why not forgive the offender ? As well may it be
asked, why not forgive the poisoner, the incendiary, the house-
breaker, or the midnight assassin? My duties to myself and
family, to my children, and to the community in which I live,
do not allow it. The laws of God do not require it. But
“ Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” Very
true; yet man is generally the instrument employed, even
by God himself. “We are to forgive our enemies." Very
true. But after how long a time? and on what conditions ?
To forgive our enemies, as we hope to be forgiven; that
is, upon the same conditions that we ourselves would ask to
be forgiven, is one thing: to forgive an habitual offender, a
notorious criminal, a disturber of the public peace, and a
violator of the social amenities, or sanctities rather, which
bind communities together for everlasting companionship, is
quite another. For what says our highest authority ?
“ If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him:” that I
did, most faithfully!“ And if he repent, forgive him:”
certainly; with all my heart. But having waited eighteen
years, for the first sign of repentance, the first word of con-
ciliation or atonement, and in vain, how much longer shall I
wait, being now in my seventy-sixth year, before I arraign'
him, publicly, for his long-continued offences ?
" And if he trespass against thee seven times in a day," says
the Great Teacher, “and seven times in a day, turn again to
thee, saying, I repent, thou shalt forgive him.” With all my
heart, I say again ; but having waited eighteen years, how
much longer shall I wait for the day to end — neither of us
having much time to lose —- before I shall be justified in say-
ing, “ Dear brother, I forgive thee; let us be friends ” ? - and
not, “ Is it well with thee, my brother ? ” while iny left hand
is on the hilt of a sword to be buried in his vitals, after the
fashion of Mr. Dow himself.
But again, that I may not be misunderstood by the
brethren, let me add another authority.
Then came Peter to him and said, Lord, how oft shall my
brother sin against me, and I forgive him ? till seven times ?
“ Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until soven
MR. NEAL DOW.
373
times, but Until seventy times seven ! ” It may be that my
amiable brother has overlooked the other two passages, and
counted only on this ; but then how stands the score ? and
who has kept tally? Perhaps it would be safer for him to over-
haul his log —I wouldn't be personal — and look into this
matter; and see whether, on the whole, he has not already
overdrawn his allowance. And yet, if he should, what
then ? I never knew him to say, " I repent." I never knew
him to acknowledge a mistake, nor to apologize for a wrong.
On the contrary, he delights in multiplying the aggravations,
and in reiterating whatever has been most offensive. Remem-
ber that we are commanded to be “ angry” – that injunction
I have obeyed to the letter! -" and sin not” – which I am
trying to do. Another injunction must not be overlooked, nor
forgotten. "If it be possible," saith Paul, “ as much as lieth
in you, live peaceably with all men.” That is, live peaceably
with them — if you can. But how can you, with such men ?
And now to the arraignment, with a few specifications -
“To the law and the testimony."
Soon after the case of poor Margaret Landrigan, alias
“ Kitty Kentuck," had been disposed of, Mr. Dow came out
with an official declaration, that he “ approved of the settlement
of the North-Eastern Boundary" — he, Mr. Neal Dow!-
perhaps, if he were waited on, he might be persuaded to
approve the Declaration of Independence, or the purchase of
Louisiana ; and then he published the following atrocious
libel — anonyinously, of course — in the “ Watchman," a tem-
perance paper, edited by Elder Peck, the notorious defaulter
and , I will not say what, as he soon after ran away
from the pulpit, leaving Mr. Dow, and others, in the lurch,
who were sureties for him, on the bond he gave as Treasurer
of the State, and has never been heard of since - to advan-
tage; and printed by a christian brother, a deacon of the
High-Street Church, who, if you can believe me, took me to
task for having shown a flash of temper, when I called Dow
to.account, and he refused to acknowledge the article, though
I had the proof in my hands; but suffered an understrapper in
the office, to declare in the presence of Dow himself, that he,
Dow, was not the author of the article, and in fact had noth-..
ing to do with it - a shameless falsehood, as they all knew.
374
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
3971
[From the State of Maine, Sept. 1, 1853.]
“MARGARET LANDRIGAN, ALIAS Kitty KENTUCK.
“ This is the hardest case yet. Kitty has been long known
about town as a most accomplished lady. She lived, some time
ago, in the small house at the head of Union-Wharf, where she
was supposed to keep boarders. The current of her life did
not always run smooth, for the watch was sometimes called to
give her aid. She afterward moved to the genteel and airy
residence at the head of Hancock-Street, where she has kept-à
very respectable house, well known to all the police and watch,
as · Kitty Kentuck's. She has had some little trouble in the
rumselling line, but has made many friends, particularly
among the brave sailors, who toast her charms in every clime.
Last Monday, she was up before the Municipal-Court for
selling a little liquor for the stomach's sake. His Honor
thought she ought to pay twenty dollars, and costs, but certain
gentlemen thought not; and Messrs. John Neal, W. H. Prin-
ton, James W. Winslow, and Dr. Cummings of Park-Street,
were her sureties.
“ Kitty has some remains of beauty left, and shows that she
was once very handsome; her friends were truly friends in
need.”
To this, I replied, with singular moderation, for me, as fol-
lows; but after waiting a whole week, to have it appear in the
“ Watchman,” that the antidote might follow the poison - the
weasel the skunk — it was rejected by my christian brothers,
the editor and printer, and would have been smothered, had I
not, knowing with whom I had to deal, kept a copy, which
first appeared in the “ Advertiser," and then the “State of
Maine," our largest daily, Sept. 1, 1853.
“Mr. ADVERTISER, — Being unable to get the following
reply into the “ Temperance Watchman," where the malicious
article appeared, of which I complain, I ask you to give it a
place for the sake of others, not for myself.
“ Mr. Watchman, do me the favor to say that the indi-
MR. NEAL DOW.
375
viduals denounced in your last paper, as the sureties of Mrs.
Landrigan, alias Kitty Kentuck,' were my personal friends,
not hers; that they knew nothing of her, nor of the merits
of the case ; but upon my representations, knowing me, they
consented to sign with me, and for me.
“ Had the law been satisfied with ample security, the woman
herself was ready to furnish it on the spot. But requiring
two different bonds, four different names, without regard to
their ability, in the sum of three hundred dollars, as if to make
that provision, which allows of an appeal, a mere mockery;
and as if to make it for the interest, even of the guiltless, to
submit, I had no alternative, with my convictions, in the
case, but to help her through.
“ Let me add, that one of the two witnesses who testified
against her, acknowledged to me, soon after the trial, in the
presence of others, that he knew nothing but what his com-
panion told him, and that he believed his companion lied.
And this, allow me to say, is not the first time that this poor
woman has been convicted upon testimony of a very suspicious
character, to say the least of it; the only witness against her
in the last case having been twice prosecuted for perjury
since.
.“ One word more: let me assure you that no good cause
will ever be promoted by ribaldry or misrepresentation.
O JOHN NEAL.
“Portland, January 15th, 1851."
And what followed ? Bear in mind that the vile slanderer
describes Margaret Landrigan as an attractive woman," a most
accomplished ludy," living in a “genteel and airy residence, and
supposed to keep boarders ;” and that we, my brother-in-law, a
family physician of the highest character, and myself, as being
influenced by her personal “ charms ;” the facts being that she
was a short, thick, red-faced Irish woman, about fifty years of
age, living in a wretched shanty, just under the droppings of a
graveyard, and a woman whose little property I had saved for
her, when she was in the hands of sharpers, and inade her
deposit every dollar of it in our Merchants’-Bank, where it
remained for two years, at least, if my memory serves me, and
who, for other reasons, was under great obligations to me, and
I under none to her, in any way, whatever.
376
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
All this, let me add, occurred soon after I had been admit-
ted to the High-Street Church. Of course, it was an affair to
be investigated. I insisted upon it; and the investigation led
to other discoveries, which I propose to give some account of,
as they occur to me, though not always in their chronological
order, having lost all my papers by the fire.
And how were the above exceedingly temperate paragraphs
answered by Mr. Neal Dow?. Read slowly, I pray you, and
then say if I had not good reason for what follows. He
acknowledges, you see, the truth of my description, and the
utter falsehood of his own charges.
“ Kitty Kentuck is an Irish woman,” he says, “who for
years kept a notorious groggery, which has given the police
more trouble than any other place in Portland” (utterly
false, by the way). "I shall not quarrel with Mr. Neal on her
account. I am not accustomed to do battle in the cause of such
personages, and leave the field entirely to him. His grief bas
seemed to be that the nature of his connection with Kitty'
has been misrepresented.” (The pitiful --! excuse my
candor.) “ He ought not to charge that sin upon me;" and
why not? He was the author, and the sole author, for he
adds: “I always understood” — mark this !-" that his rela-
tions to her were only those of pecuniary obligations on his part.
I never heard that she was kind to him in any other way." So
then, the gentleman being cornered, with no possibility of
escape, and public opinion growing too hot for him — scorch-
ing him to the marrow he is driven to acknowledge in black
and white, with his own signature at the bottom, that he never
6 understood” from anybody, what he had charged me with,
and that he had never even “heard” any thing to justify the
charge! And this, from the great reformer; the putative
“ Father of the Maine-Law;" the “ Chief Engineer," the
“ Ex-Mayor of Portland," and the “ General” — faugh!
My eyes had now begun to open, though rather late, and
rather slowly. Events and occurrences, wholly forgotten,
crowded upon my recollection; and, little by little, I began
to see how grossly, and for how loug a time, I had been
wronged and betrayed, year after year. For example: Long
before this attack upon me, in passing the Mariners' Church
one evening, I saw a crowd of people about the door. Upon
MR. NEAL DOW.
377
inquiry, I was told that Neal Dow my friend, Neal Dow
was to give a temperance-lecture. I entered, took a seat near
the door, and stayed it out. In the course of his lecture,
deliberately written, mark you, he described a person — a
man of acknowledged and varied talent, a professional man,
occupying a high social position, and, I thiuk he said, a rela-
tion, who was doing incalculable mischief to the cause of
temperance, both by precept and example. As he went on,
and on, giving characteristic after characteristic, all eyes were
turned toward me. When he had finished, I went up to
him: he started and colored; evidently he had not been
aware of my presence. I thought nothing of it at the time,
and asked who it was that he had been showing up. He bog-
gled and hesitated, and, to relieve lis embarrassment, I said,
“Never mind: I have no desire to know ; but the people
about us really seemed to think you meant me.” — “ You!
Oh, no! a thought of you never entered my head ;” and I
was fool enough to believe him.
Not long after this, my charming friend was a candidate for
mayor. He was not my choice; but still, I thought, with his
energy and wilfulness, he would be likely to do good, by en-
forcing the law, against grog-shops, at least, for which object
only he had been thought of; but, having just been admitted
to the church, I was unwilling to make myself conspicuous
by electioneering, or caucusing, and seriously intended to hold
myself aloof, till the day of election. But some of the breth-
ren called upon me, and begged me to attend a meeting in the
city-hall, and urge the election of Mr. Dow. I consented,
at last, saying I should not make a speech, but I would say
something. I went. My friend, Senator Fessenden, was in
the chair. Having been called for, from all parts of the
house, by previous arrangement, I dare say, though I knew
nothing of it at the time, I took the platform, and contented
myself with saying that I had known Mr. Dow from his ear-
liest boyhood ; that he was in earnest-always in earnest; that
he was not my first choice, for I had been hoping to see Mr.
J. C. Noyes in the field; but—and here it suddenly occurred
to me that, if I did not explain myself, I should be doing Mr.
Dow a mischief instead of a kindness - I added that my
chief objection to the man, after all, amounted to this, and
378
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
this only; that he was too much like myself. This brought
down the house, and I left the platform in the midst of the
uproar that followed. In passing the chair, Fessenden leaned
over and said to me, “ You've elected your man!” And so it
proved. But Mr. Neal Dow, however much he may have
been delighted with my acknowledgment of a resemblance-a
resemblance in temper and character, so far as I knew at the
time, and not in personal appearance, bearing, principles, or
behavior — no, indeed — never forgave me because I had ac-
knowledged my preference for another. Yet more. When 1,
for the first and only time in all my life, failed to cast my vote,
owing to a mistake in the hour, and apologized to him for it,
he laid it up against me, and taunted me with it, on a later
occasion, so as to show how deeply it galled him.
While mayor, the deadly venom he had been secreting for
years, became dangerous to himself. Out it must come, or,
like the scorpion circled by fire, he might be obliged to sting
himself to death. One day, therefore, while we were, as I
supposed, on the most friendly terms, though we did not agree
on the remedies for intemperance, a friend sent me a monthly
magazine, containing “A TRUE STORY, by the Honorable
Neal Dow.” I read it with unqualified amazement. It pur-
· ported to give the private history of my neighborhood, with
that of many families in State-Street, my own among the
number. The street itself was described as very wide, with
a double row of trees on each side, large, handsome houses,
and a view of the White-Hills; in a word, so that there was
no mistaking the neighborhood, nor the street. After siguify-
ing, in language not to be mistaken, that my friend,
Grenville Mellen, the poet, son of our late Chief-Justice
Mellen, had died, away from his father's house, and been trun-
dled on a wheelbarrow to the Potter's-field, in New York
City, - without a friend to follow that humble bier” — an
atrocious calumny, without one word of truth in it, beyond
the fact that he died in New-York, and was buried, if I le-
member aright, in Greenwood Cemetery - he then gave
sketches of other families in State-Street, and, among the
number, of mine; and asserted — the shameless calumniator!
- that I had ruined my eldest born, by having wine at my
table, and by my example; that son being a generous, noble,
MR. NEAL DOW.
379
free-spirited fellow, of uncommon talents, and superior educa-
tion, and highly accomplished, with but one fault worth men-
tioning; a fault, by the way, which made its first appearance
at the great fire in Free-Street, when he was about sixteen,
demijohns that had been rescued from cellars, and then,
though he had never tasted wine at his father's table — except,
as I have already mentioned, when he was hardly five, and
the wine itself being a diluted Muscat, was little more than
sweetened water, and in quantity not more than a dessert-
spoonful -- nor elsewhere; and knew not even the taste of
stronger liquor, as I rerily believe. But he was bullied and
badgered into drinking after this, by people who charged him
with being afraid of the “old man," and with being one of
the ramrods, or teetotalers; and finally exasperated into self-
assertion, at the age of twenty, or thereabouts, by the intoler-
ant bigotry and fanaticism of people who seemed to believe
that men might be made christians, or anchorites, at least, by
legislative enactment.
This - True Story” moved my indignation, as well it might,
and I lost no time in having it republished, word for word,
first in the “ Expositor," and then, no less than ihree times, in
the “ State of Maine," our largest “ Daily," between March
and July, 1852.
No sooner had it appeared, than, to my unspeakable amaze-
ment, I found that the same story - the same fils, I should
say — in substance, had been told by Mr. Dow, before the
mayor and aldermen, years before, when he and I were on
the most friendly terms, and I was constautly doing him
favors, and advancing his interest, and all his ambitious
schemes in every possible way; lending him my notes, for
example, one of which I found no little difficulty in getting
back, after it had been paid into the bank, of which he was a
director, though I never asked such a thing of him in all my
life, nor any other favor, indeed ; and yet I had never heard
of the “story," till it appeared in print.
By this time, a few of the many tried friends of Mr. Dow
— and some were sorely tried — began to be alarmed; and
among others, Mr. Eben Steele, one of our best men, though,
like myself, rather unsuspicious, thought proper to question
380
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
him about his “ TRUE Story." And what, think you, was
the fellow's answer? Why, that it had no reference what-
ever to me or mine, and had nothing to do with State-Street,
or the families of that neighborhood! Nay, more: that he
had all the facts from the Rev. Luther Beecher, of New-
York; and this, though they had occurred within view of the
White-Hills, where there were a double row of trees on each
side of a broad, handsome street, the handsomest and broad-
est we have, crowded with magnificent houses, palaces al-
most; there being no other street on the face of the earth,
corresponding with such a description. Nay, more: this he
said to Mr. John A. Poor, editor of the “ State of Maine,"
and even went so far, I have been lately told, though I had
forgotten it, as to publish his denial in some paper of the day.
If so, I shall certainly drag it forth, if it be above ground, or
if a copy can be had for love or money ; and before I get
through, give him all the advantage of publicity.
But this, however astonishing it may appear to those who
have any regard for truth or appearances, or any self-respect,
was no more than he did, over and over again, while mayor
of the city. Once, for example, he proclaimed to the world,
over his official signature, that the cells of the watch-louse
were no longer used for drunkards, but only to store seized
liquors; and that, for a certain period before he went into
office, we were little better than a community of drunkards.
I do not pretend to give the precise language, my papers hav-
ing all been destroyed by the great fire; but I pledge myself,
here and now, for the substantial truth of what I say, and hold
Since the above was written, I have been furnished with
the evidence I want.
On the 27th of September, 1851, Mr. Dow, the mayor of
Portland, published to the world, without qualification or mis-
giving, these words : “ The watch-house is 120w used to keep
seized liquors in, instead of drunkards." This went the
rounds of all our papers, East, West, North, and South. -
And yet, at this very time, September, 1851, there were no
less than forty-eight persons confined in the watch-house ---
three for larceny, and forty-five for drunkenness !
MR. NEAL DOW.
381
reformation he had brought about among our people, by the
help of what was called “ The Maine-Law," à law, by
the way, which was never the same for twelve months to-
gether, as if we had been a community of drunkards, a city
of groggeries and rippling-shops, I obtained the certificate of
Mr. Baker, the jailer, that, from July, 1851, to September,
1853, two years and two months, there had been only eighty-
one different persons committed, though the number of com-
mittals amounted to one hundred and three; a small part of
the number having been committed from one to seven times.
And this, in tweniy-six months ; less than three a month, in
a city of drunkards, under the vigorous administration of
Mayor Dow!
At another time, he declared that no liquor could be found
within five miles of the city; and at another, that not a drop
could be had nearer than Moosehead-Lake! And yet, he
knew, for everybody here knew the fact, that there were hun-
dreds of places within the city of Portland, where liquor, and
the worst, might always be had for the asking, and that grog-
shops and Irish boarding houses and negro-shanties, where
liquors were kept in oil-cans and pickle-jars, under beds and
in out-houses, were multiplied to a frightful extent; and just
what I had foreseen and foretold, from the first, the most in-
genious evasions were resorted to. Liquors were sold in the
shape of books, made of tin, painted, and lettered with some
attractive tiile; such as “ Drops of Comfort;” 6Consolation
for the Afflicted ; ” “ Hints for the Ungodly.” Drams, too,
were sold in the form of eggs, made of porcelain. Walking-
sticks and heavy canes were contrived to hold from a half-
pint to, a quart of brandy. Clubs and associations were
formed, for the purpose of drinking and gambling, not only in
public, but in private houses. Young men would travel with
portmanteaus containing bottles, or take a room, anywhere,
and invite their companions to a treat; of course, drinking
more and oftener, than if they went openly to a bar. Anil
all this, not so much, perhaps, from a love of liquor, as for a
love of what they called spirit, or fun. Having been for-
bidden by law to control themselves, to touch, taste, or handle,
under the severest penalties, they determined to have their
own way, like so many school-boys, in defiance of the master;
382
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
ities.
At another time, I met with an account of Portland, pub-
lished in a Western paper, and purporting to have been fur-
nished by an eye-witness of what he related. He had been
taken over the city, and shown clusters of neat little cottages,
in the best possible condition, which somebody, "a temperance-
leader," assured him were owned and occupied by reformed
Irish inebriates! Who was that somebody? I never knew
for a certainty ; but this I did know, and do know: that there
was not another man, among all our temperance-leaders, capa-
ble of such a preposterous falsehood. He was called a Phari-
see, after some of these mortifying exposures; but I always
defended him, for he was rather down in the mouth at the
time, by saying that he was only a little Sad-you-see.
The result of all his engineering and maneuvring was,
that, instead of being re-elected the following year, the pleas-
ant gentleman was tumbled, neck-and-heels, out of his chair,
and then shelved for the rest of his natural life. We elected
him first, because we did not know him; and we refused a
re-election, because we did. Having tried him, and he us, we
had no choice left, if we would not become a laughing-stock
for all generations.
Meanwhile, “ The Maine-Law" — the hugest of humbugs,
though declared so perfect from the first, by the reputed au-
thor himself, that he would ask for no change, none whatever ;
not even for the crossing of a t, or the dotting of an ¿ - had
been turned inside out, and outside in, and undergone so many
changes, that it was like the boy's jack-knife, with its two or
three new handles, and three or four new blades, but still the
same, was found to bear a startling resemblance to the old
embargo laws, which were likened to “ The House that Jack
built." First, we had “ An Act laying on an Embargo ;”
then, “ An Act in addition to an Act, entitled an Act laying
on an Embargo ;” and then, “ An Act supplementary to an
Act, in addition to an Act, entitled an Act laying on an Em-
bargo," &c., &c., until the people would bear it no longer, and
the law was trampled under foot with indignation, and grog-
shops and drinking-saloons were multiplied by the score, and
drugged liquors, and poisonous, adulterated wines were drunk
DR. NEAL DOW.
383
by the quart in all our leading thoroughfares and public-
houses, and often by the youthful, in derision, or in defiance.
At last, one day, a State-convention was called, just on the
eve of a State-election. Of course, I did not intend to ap-
pear; but General Appleton, a standard-bearer among the
Tee-to-talers, overtook me, on iny way up to my house, and
entreated me not to abandon the struggle; asking me, on the
way, if I could suggest any thing to stay the mischief. Only
one thing occurred to me. It was to declare solemnly by a reso-
lution, that, being pledged temperance-men ourselves, we could
not, conscientiously, cast our vote for any but pledged tem-
perance-men. - Capital ! ” said he: “the very thing we
want; but who will bell the cat ? ” — “I will undertake that
job," said I. “I will go into the Convention with you, and
offer such a resolution, if you will second it.” — “Agreed.”
I kept my promise, and he his; prefacing the Resolution with
a few remarks, in substance, to the following effect. Though
I would not encourage hypocrisy, I would encourage couceal-
ment, where the open violation of law would be likely to
mislead others. Open licentiousness, I take it would be
somewhat worse than private licentiousness of the same
character. All our ambitious men will be ready to " feigni a
virtue if they have it not." No class are doing more mis-
chief by their example, than our lawyers. I see rank, unfal-
tering, unquailing perjury, the rankest I ever saw, committed
every day, in these liquor-cases, only to be smiled at by the
bench, and chuckled over by the bar. I see inen, occupying
the position of prosecutors, and claiming to represent the
Majesty of our Commonwealth, with bleared eyes, and shak-
ing hands, apostrophizing the jury, while urging the claims of
temperance, till the whole dramatis personæ (understrappers
and supernumeraries), lawgivers, judges, and jurors, would
seem to be playing a ridiculous and contemptible farce. Gen-
eral Appleton followed, in a long, Massachusetts-oration, like
those you hear in the General-Court, of which he had been
a member.
The Resolution passed unanimously; and then what fol-
lowed? Why, these thorough-going, pledged temperance-
men went into the field with candidates, notoriously unpledged,
with one or more given to dram-drinking as a habit, while
384
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
one, at last, was acknowledged to be intemperate. From that
hour, I determined to have nothing more to do with the tem-
perance party. “Henceforth," said I, after the style of Dr.
Johnson, "you may skin your own skunks; I go upon my
own hook, hereafter, preaching temperance in my own way,
both by precept and example; taking a glass of wine - of
sound, pure wine -- if it can be had, though I almost believe it
cannot be had for love or money, most of the time — whenever
I feel so disposed, and openly, before the world, without shuf-
fling, evasion, or concealment.” And this, I have continued to
do ever since; but having found precious little, if any, pure,
undrugged wine, to my knowledge, my transgressions have
been few and far between; amounting, for thirty or forty
years, to no more than a dozen glasses or so, of what passed
for wine; while, of other liquors, I have never tasted, until
within the last year or two, when a preparation of Calasaya
having been urged upon me, and, occasionally, a spoonful of
whiskey or brandy, by my wife and daughters, for reasons
they understand better than I do, I have taken it almost
every day for the last eighteen montlıs, at the rate of a spoon-
ful a day; and I do believe it has strengthened, if not my
bodily health, at least, my judgment and convictions against
every kind of spurious, counterfeit, and adulterated liquor,
whatever may be the name. And yet, in the judgment of
those fanatics and hypocrites, many of them, who are clamor-
ing against medicinal preparations, alcohol in the arts, and
habits of indulgence, no more hurtful to the parties them-
selves, nor to their families, nor to the public at large, and not
much more likely to crowd our lunatic-asylums, our poor-
houses, penitentiaries, and jails, than extravagant living - or
wasteful expenditure in any other shape, I am held to be no
friend of temperance, and not even a temperate man! A
plague on such blind, obstinate, miserable bigots, I say!
Let the revolutions just made by the World,” that unin-
tentional, but generous and hearty champion of Temperance,
be published in a pamphlet form, and seut East, West, North,
and South, all over the land, into all the bars and bar-rooms,
clubs and bowling - alleys, houses and sliops, and it will
do more than all this conventional exaggeration, and all our
blundering, foolish, and pestiferous legislation, to make men
THE 56 TRUE TALE.”
385
afraid of drinking, if they have but a thimbleful of common-
sense.
And now, having reached another stopping-place, let me
take up two or three smaller affairs, in which I have been
deeply interested heretofore, that I may be able to give my
whole attention to the last chapter of this “strange, eventful
history.”
P.S. After much inquiry, I have at last obtained a copy of
Mr. Dow's infamous libel. I take it from the “ Maine Ex-
positor" of March 24, 1852. It is headed, “History of a
Neighborhood: A TRUE TALE, by Honorable Neal Dow.”
The following passages will show whether I have exaggerated
in what I have already given from recollection:-
“The extensive landscape which lay outspread before them,
with the White-Hills distinctly projected against the sky in the
distance, was one of great beauty. . . . A few steps brought
them to a broad street, adorned with fine houses, and a double
row of trees on each side. No city in the land can show a
more beautiful street, if taken in connection with its ample
width, its extent, the palaces, almost, upon either hand, and
particularly its multitude of noble trees, which stretch nearly
across it, and afford a refreshing shade”-a description which
applies to State-Street, and to no other street on earth, in view
of the White-Hills. In that street I lived at the time, as I do
now, and had lived for sixteen years. But he proceeds.
“Now, just as we turn this corner” — the corner of State-
Street - "observe that magnificent house opposite us; the
home of wealth, of taste, and refinement. But there is, at
this moment, a skeleton in that house. If we should enter,
we should behold, on every hand, all the appliances of luxury,
all the adornments that cultivated taste can desire, or wealth
procure: magnificent furniture, books, pictures, and various
works of art, which crowd its lofty and spacious apartments”
— all which, allowing for the man's habitual exaggeration and
base envy, had truth enough in it to show who was meant.
But, to make the deadly poison more deadly, he goes on; and,
after telling, what, in the English language, there is but one
word to express, about my poor son, with just enough truth in
it to identify the individual meant, as in the case of Chief-
Justice Mellen, he adds, “ This boy has been ruined by an
25
386
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
appetite generated and strengthened by the wine which he has
habitually taken at his father's table.” A wicked, shameless,
and deliberate -- ; for he knew, so far as he knew any thing
of our domestic habits, that nothing of the sort had ever hap-
pened in my family ; that we had not given a drop of wine
to guest or visitor, since the boy referred to was five years of
age; and that he had never tasted a drop in his father's house,
beyond a teaspoonful of Muscat, mixed with two or three
teaspoonfuls of water.
6 Yet he ” (the father -- meaning me) “had not manly cour-
age enough to break away from a custom which weak people
seem to think necessary in a genteel establishment” — and all
this, when the base libeller knew that I was the first man here
to give up wine, and to withhold wine from guests and visitors,
and that I had done so from the time when my children swal-
lowed the sharpest vinegar for wine, as I have mentioned,
under the influence of example; that is, for full sixteen years!
“ Although,” he adds, “although the father was every way
qualified to lead public opinion, and to give law to custom, yet
he has, in this case, sacrificed his domestic happiness to one
which he felt to be wrong, and knew to be dangerous."
How entirely of a piece with that lecture in the “Mariners'
Church,” where, being taken by surprise, he declared that he
was not thinking of me, though the characteristics he men-
tioned were substantially the same!
PERENOLOGY.
387
CHAPTER XXI.
MODEST MEN; PAINTERS AND PAIXTINGS; GROWTH OF PORTLAND;
JAMES NEAL; STEPHEN NEAL; THE WILL-CASE; EXGINEERING or MR.
NEAL DOW, GUARDIAN OF STEPHEN NEAL; GARRISON; MOB IN PORT-
LAND; PARK AND TAMMANY HALL; ABOLITIONISTS; GENERAL FESSEN-
DEN; DEBATES; WOMEN'S RIGHTS; LECTURE IN THE TABERNACLE,
NEW-YORK; DEBATES THERE; ROWDY-DOWS, AND DEATH OF PUOR ROB-
BINS; MUTUAL BENEFIT LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY; CAIRU, ILL.; MRS.
PIERCE AND GAIL HAMILTON; REV. MR. CHAMBERS; WOMAN SUFFRAGE;
OBJECTIONS ANSWERED; MR. PIERPONT AND THE “ TWO-PENNY POST-
BAG;" SUM TOTAL.
WHILE abroad, I undertook a partial -- or, I might say, an
impartial — investigation of Phrenology; and after my return,
I went into the subject with my whole heart, believing that, if
true, it was indeed a revelation from the " Father of Lights,"
Himself; and if untrue, or a delusion, it should be examined
and exposed, without fear or favor. The result was, after
much study, and numberless manipulations, that I became
thoroughly convinced of its general truth, so far as the leading
principles were involved, which conviction has never been
weakened, but evermore strengthened, by all I have seen or
heard since.
• Then followed animal magnetism, and clairvoyance, and
spiritualism, all of which I claim to have investigated patient-
ly, laboriously, and honestly, though not always with satis-
factory results. I went off to Providence, when Miss Brackett
was in her zenith; and there had to do with an old physician,
Dr. B., who had lost both position, and a large practice,
by harboring her, and believing in her, as a clairvoyante ;
and I found, moreover, that a young woman, å somnambulist,
whom he had occasion to treat, was able to describe, while
in the magnetic sleep, the furniture and appearance of a
room, into which she had never entered, where a sick man
·lay, who was believed by Dr. B. himself to be dying of a
388
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
diseased liver. Having satisfied the doctor about the room
and furniture, as a test, he desired her to see what ailed the
man. “What do you see?” he asked. “A man sick." —
66 What ails him ? look first at his head; is that well?” —
“Yes.” — " How do you know? Do you mean to say that you
see the internal organization?"_“Yes.”“Is the liver, heart,
&c., well?” -“Yes : it looks just the same as yours, or any-
body's else!”-“Well, do you see any thing wrong?” — Yes,
there is an enlargement of the spleen.” She was then questioned
about the viscera, the spleen, &c., and answered satisfactorily,
though the doctor was incredulous. Seven days after this, the
man died. Dr. B., baving obtained leave to make a post-mor-
tem examination, called in every physician of the city, and
narrated the story of the girl, in the presence of eighteen
persons, sixteen of whom were physicians. The doctor stated
the case to them, and asked them if they could discover the
diseased spleen from external examination. With one voice,
they declared they could not.
He then opened the body, and, to the utter astonishment of
all the physicians present, found the spleen so enlarged as to
weigh fifty-seven ounces ! the usual weight being from four to
six ounces.
To counteract this most conclusive demonstration, it was
then reported that the young lady had been studying anatomy.
This was without the least foundation ; but if true, what
then ? She had not seen the sufferer; and how came she to
be so much wiser than the whole medical faculty of Provi-
dence, Dr. B. himself included ?
Ah! but she had been told by somebody, and she may have
been present at some discussions, and perhaps heard the spleen
suggested.
If so, who was that somebody, and who made such a sug-
gestion ? Could such a secret be kept ? Would not the person,
whether a medical man or not, be sure to claim the credit of
such a suggestion, if only to shame the faculty, or Dr. B., or
the young lady herself? And yet no such person appeared ;
and although the doctor hazarded every thing that was dear to
a professional man, he never faltered nor quailed, from first to
last, and having prepared, and invited his brethren to be
present, stood the hazard of the die, and was convicted by her
CLAIRVOYANCE AND SPIRITUALISM.
389
of serious error, in common with all his brethren. Other
cases, I might mention ; but this satisfied me that the gift, or
disease, if you will, of clairvoyance, could not be questioned.
That epileptic and cataleptic patients are thus gifted, proves
nothing. On my return to Portland, a public meeting was
held in the city-hall, where I gave an account of the phe-
nomena I had witnessed. A debate followed, with the Rev.
Mr. Whitman, Dr. Mighles, and others, against, while I was
for these demonstrations.
And so with what is called “spiritualism.” Not being a
materialist, I am, of course, a spiritualist. And having
patiently, and conscientiously, gone through a long course of
experiment, I have come to the conclusion that, notwithstand-
ing all the knavery, and falsehood, and self-delusion, which I
have assisted in exposing and punishing, a large proportion of
these perplexing phenomena, which are called spiritual mani-
festations, cannot be accounted for by any laws of nature, or
mechanics, with which we are now acquainted ; cannot be
the result of deception or jugglery, and that they are guided
by intelligence; in other words, by spirits or spiritual in-
fluences. That evil and mischief may both be propagated by
the abuse of such intelligence, I beliere; and that we cannot
be too watchful of ourselves, nor too much upon our guard
against self-delusion, “and peeping and muttering," while
investigating mysteries like these, if we would not go on be-
lieving more and more, till we believe too much, and finish our
investigations in a mad-house.
Upon imprisonment for debt, upon woman's rights - but
another phase of the same question — I have labored with effect,
I believe; upon our militia-system, also ; upon slavery and
colonization, and our foolish fondness for foolish titles, against
which I have warred with all my strength, ever since my
lamented associate in business, the Rev. John Pierpont, pub-
lished the “ Airs of Palestine,” with an engraved title-page,
having upon it the name of " John Pierpont, Esquire ; and ever
since I was required to say, “ Your Honor" to a judge, eren
though it were Judge Marshall himself, Chief-Justice of the
United-States, which I have always refused to do, until within
the last twelvemonth or so. Getting weary of explanations
and apologies, for what might be considered incivility by
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
strangers, I have begun to give and take these foolish “ titles,"
going back, therefore, at the end of nearly fifty years, to the
fashion that prevailed, when a list of names never appeared in
the papers without a prefix to each, of Honorable or Excel-
lency, or General (of the militia), or a quirk at the end, which
was to be translated Esquire, for which, pray forgive me.
Upon the death-penalty, or what is called “ capital punish-
ment," I have also written much, and not a little to the purpose;
having no belief in the wisdom of strangulation, for men, women,
and children, however much they might seem to deserve it, and
being fully persuaded that the worst men have most need of
repentance, and that they who are unfit to live, are still more
unfit to die. When I wrote “Logan," after having seen two
pirates, and two young men strangled by law, in the midst of a
noisy, riotous crowd in Baltimore, at noon-day, with the blue
heavens, the green earth, and the golden sunshine testifying
against their dread “taking off," I urged our lawgivers, if they
would still insist upon strangling men, women, and children, to
do it within the walls of a prison, at midnight, and with the toll-
ing of a large, ponderous bell, or the sound of cannon, like
minute-guns at sea ; that murderers, and ravishers, and house
breakers, and thieves, and highwaymen, might be startled from
their sleep, and set a-thinking; or be disturbed in their mid-
night revels, or their unaccomplished depredations, as by a voice
from the other world, filling them with dismay, or with a mys-
terious unutterable liorror, according to their guilt, in their
dread loneliness and desolation. As the law then stood, the felon
might as well have died in the heat, and hurry, and uproar of
battle; and the great multitude, who scarcely caught their
breath when the miserable wretches were turned off; and felt
relieved, when they saw how little they seemed to suffer, and
for how short a time, did nothing, as I myself saw once at
Newgate, but bandy ribald jokes with loose women along the
house-tops, and at the open windows; or shout and roar, as
they surged this way and that, around the foot of the gallows,
in their admiration of all who died “ game," while the hang-
man himself, though he said nothing, looked as if he relished
their drolleries. I believe that the changes which have fol
lowed, year after year, both abroad and at home, in the mode
of execution, originated with my “ Logan.” Observe: I do
THE DEATH-PENALTY, ETC.
391
not claim to be what is called a modest man; I have nearly
overcome the bashfulness that troubled me in my youth; and
I have no liking for self-depreciation, believing that we are
generally taken, at least among strangers, for what we claim
to be. I have known people who were awkward, and shy, and,
in the opinion of others, modest, with so good an opinion of
themselves, that the good opinion of others would not raise them
a hair's-breadth in their own estimation ; but as I do in my
heart believe, that, on the whole, in projecting and carrying
out some of these reforms, I have lived to some purpose, I am
willing to say so --- and I don't care who knows it. In the
flush of youth, in the generous, heroic enthusiasm, and fiery
efflorescence of early manhood, I suggested many changes in
law and usage; most of which, I might say all, have either
become established, or like woman-suffrage, the death-penalty,
by strangling, and licensed usury, seem about to be established
everywhere, while imprisonment for debt, lotteries, and the
exclusion of parties, or persons interested, from the witness-
box, in our common-law courts, have been abolished for ever.
Speaking of modest men, however, I knew of one who always
claimed that General Harrison was indebted to him for his
election. I was half inclined to tell him the truth on that sub-
ject, but forebore, having no pretensions to modesty -- such
modesty, I should say; but the simple fact was, that, in the
Harrisburg-Convention, I threw what was equivalent to a cast-
ing vote in his favor. It happened that I was chairman of the
Maine committee. According to the congressional usage,
Maine always led in voting. We had voted again and again,
I forget how many times, for Henry Clay, once or twice for
General Scott, who felt sure of his election, and had come to a
dead-lock, on Webster for Vice-President; and Reverdy John-
son was making a capital speech in the House above, to
secure harmony, while we were badgering the candidates, and
one another, below. At last, somebody mentioned to me the
name of John Tyler, for Vice-President, instead of Webster,
whom we could not possibly elect. “Will you vote for
Tyler ?” said I, to Mr. Chandler Starr, who represented the
forty-two votes of New-York. “Yes, if you will.” — “Done!"
said I; and the next vote carried in both William Henry
Harrison, and John Tyler, for which I pray God to forgive
me! — so far, I mean, as poor Tyler was concerned.
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Before I finish this chapter, allow me to say a few words
upon a subject I have hitherto only glanced at. That I am a
good judge of painting, it were childish to deny, after all that
I have written upon the subject, both abroad and at home:
but I am not a painter, I never was, and have 110 special gift,
either for landscape or portraiture; and though, if I had taken
up the business early in life, when I was doing Indian-ink
portraits — and the originals too! - for three dollars a lead, I
might, perhaps, have done something tolerable. The organ of
form being about the average with me, and that of color very
large, constructiveness, ideality, &c., &c., to match, I am quite
sure that I never should have been able to satisfy myself,
though I might have satisfied others, and my life would have
been a comparative failure. A man may be a good judge of
pictures, just as he may be of a dressing-case, or a signet-ring,
or of boots and shoes, without being a cabinet-maker, a jeweller,
or a shoemaker. This I mention here, because I have credit
with people who do not know me, for uncommon talent as an
artist, like Hazlitt, who wrote books and copied pictures with
equal facility, and because I have no desire to pass for more
than I am worth, even at the discount-board. What I am, I
acknowledge, and am prepared for the consequences, however
much I may be mistaken about myself, in the judgment of
others. Poetry -- grand, glorious, and beautiful poetry – I
have written heretofore, and may write again, before I pass
away; and I do think — belween ourselves — that much of my
prose writing, most of it, indeed, is likely to be read hereafter,
and that, on the whole, not a few of my story-books, and stories,
and magazine-papers, are well worth remembering and pre-
serving. There! that will do for the present, I hope.
But before I finish this, the last chapter, it may be well, for the
encouragement of other “poor devils,” who, not satisfied with
one pursuit in life, grow multifarious, to give a hint, if nothing
more, of how I have been able to get along, and provide for a
large family, now consisting of three children, and three grand-
children, after losing two, a son, who had reached manhood,
and a daughter in early babyhood, and secure a comfortable
provision for old age. I was never an idler, never a spend-
thrift, never a speculator. If one business wouldn't “pay,"
I took up another ; but I never neglected any business for
GROWTH OF PORTLAND..
393
another, and never changed but for good reasons. Of my
writings, and of my labors, in season and out of season, as a
drawing-master, a writing-master, lawyer, lecturer, and teacher
of languages, and gymnastics, (gratuitously), and sparring and
fencing, I have said enough to show, that my faculties have
never been allowed to rust, or stagnate, or loiter.
Jan. 28, 1869. — We are now in sight of port; with deli-
cious weather, and every thing to make us mindful of our duty
to God, to our fellow-men, and to ourselves.
Portland is growing, as she never grew before, in her
palmiest days; the city is rebuilt and somewhat enlarged, with
half a dozen public houses, two of which, the Falmouth, and
the St. Juliaus, worthy of the magnificent future, now opening
to us, and all the others, if not luxurious, at least comfortable
and attractive; with a free Protestant cathedral, and a Catho-
lic (always free), and half a dozen, at least, of new and hand-
some churches, a city-hall finished, with a custom-house,
and a post-office, well under way - one of Vermont marble,
and the other of Hallowell gneiss, by the name of granite,
and all worth bragging about anywhere. Add to this, that
we have two great thoroughfares opening to us, on their way
to the Pacific; first, the “ Portland and Ogdensburg Railway,"
cleaving the White-Hills, from base to summit, and running
along the side of an escarpment thousands of feet high -- or by
some cheaper and safer route, if a cheaper and safer route may
be found ; the other, our « Portland and Rutland Railroad,"
now burning its way through the heart of New Hampshire, into
the treasure-houses of Vermont; and both shaping their course
to the trans-continental, inter-oceanic terminus, with unflinch-
ing energy, and a determination worthy of the highest praise,
whether they go hand in hand, for a part of the way, as we
hope, or strike out, each for itself, in their generous competi-
tion for a share in the business, not of New England only, not
of this great Commonwealth of empires, but of India, China,
and Japan, the Orient, and the World.
And now for finishing off the last of these crowded chapters.
More than once, in the progress of my story, I have had occa-
sion to mention my bachelor uncle, James Neal, the third son of
my grandfather, my father being the second. He was quite a
character in his way, a sort of a burly Quaker humorist, adher-
394
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
ing to the Quaker forms of worship, and wearing the Quaker
garb, till within a few years of his death, although he did not
use the “ plain language.” A man of sober judgment, uncom-
mon strength of mind, and extraordinary foresight, he became,
long before my return to Portland, one of our substantial prop-
erty-holders.
I had always been a favorite with him, partly because he
boarded with my father, at the time when my sister and
myself, twins, made our first appearance ;” and he had charge
of our infaucy after my father's death. He had been exceed-
ingly proud of my father; and I think he was proud of me,
from the first, although he never said as much to anybody,
and especially after the death of the last male nephew he had,
of the name.
More than once he offered me help in my business, both at
Boston and Baltimore; but I always declined, except on one
occasion, where I had to give an " approved endorsed note”
for goods at auction. After my failure in Baltimore, when he
found me determined to enter upon the study of law, he
renewed his friendly offers; but I still refused, being deter-
mined to “cut my own fodder," come what might.
On getting back to my native town, my reception at first
was rather disheartening. He had got some notions into his
head, not much to my advantage, I fear, though he never told
me so; but I could see it in his manner. Always rather
surly, but robust, generous, and sincere, he had the kindness
to tell me one day that he had no advice to give, when I con-
sulted him, out of respect, and for no other reason whatever,
about the expediency of my settling down — settling on my
lees, I might as well say - in Portland ; my poor mother and
sister having always been hoping that I would “ fetch up"
here, at last, and being very anxious — very -- that I should ask
66 Uncle Neal.”
“ When I ask your advice again,” said I, “I rather guess
you'll give it;" and then I left the room. He followed me up,
and there betrayed his liking for me, by a kindness of manner
I had never seen before, and by almost apologizing. Not long
after this, when the city was all astir about me, somebody said
in his presence, that I would not be allowed to stay here, that,
in short, I should be driven away. Whereupon, he growled out,
JAMES NEAL.
395
although I never heard of it, until long afterward, when I had
fought my own way up to the position I have since occupied,
" that they'd have to drive him away, first."
Years after this, when the uproar had all died away, and I
was married, with two children, the youngest of whom was
named for him -- and enjoying all the consideration he could
desire having been domesticated and become reasonable, for
which, by the way, my wife got all the credit with my best
friends, and by those, who, like Mr. Pierpont, had longest known
me -- he had some papers in his possession belonging to my
mother. One day, on meeting me in the street, he told me to
coine and get those papers. I went, and after knocking at the
door, and receiving no answer, I opened it a little way, and
looked in, supposing he might be asleep. He was not there;
but upon the table I saw a file of papers, which I recognized
instantly for those belonging to my mother, that he had carried
off two or three months before. I took them up—then replaced
them — when my eye was attracted by something written
on the outside wrapper. The words were : “ John is my heir."
What was to be done ? I now remembered that he had told
me I should find them on his table, if he was not there. Of
course, he meant to apprise me of what he intended, without
coming to a personal explanation. I took the papers, and
showed the envelope to my wife, and to her father, but to
nobody else, until after my uncle's death. I should mention
here, however, iu further illustration of his odd way of doing
business, that, soon after my inarriage, he brought a deed to me
of a double tenement-house, with all the notes made out, and a
mortgage, to secure the payment, in twelve years, at the rate
of three hundred dollars a year, without interest. This was a
pearing to do so, and keeping me straight. He had never
consulted me, nor ever mentioned the subject, and complained
a little, that I had taken a large handsome house, one of the
best we had then, without consulting him! He had forgotten
our little tiff. However, I could rent my new purchase he
said, till my lease expired ; and I did so, though we never
occupied it for a single day, neither part being empty at the
right time. The property would have been a good bargain at
five thousand dollars; but he had taken it for a debt, and
396
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
made some alterations — and suggested others, which I lost no
time in making — and felt relieved, I dare say, when I took it
off his hands, with a “thank you, uncle," for that was all I said,
or did. Being a man of few words himself, I was not willing
to be obtrusive. ·
Within two years after this, he died of apoplexy, at the age
of sixty-four, without notice or preparation; but when his
brother Stephen, who lived in Elliot, came down to the
funeral, he told us that we should find a will; that he had
been sent for by “brother James," not long before, two or
three months, perhaps, when he consulted him about a will,
saying that I was to be his heir, and entering upon a little
bank-book, the legacies he intended for others; all which were
in the form of annuities, with a relinquishment of all debts
due from the legatees. That book we found, but no will. In
it, he had given to his brother Stephen three hundred dollars
a year during life, and “all he owed," being about a thousand
dollars, lent him to help buy the family homestead. His two
nieces, my sister and another, were to receive three hundred
a year each, during life, and a nephew he was not on good
terms with, the same; while I was to have — blank - and
6 all I owed ;” amounting at the time to about three thousand
dollars. It was evident enough that he had intended to make
a will, not only from what he said to his brother, but from all
in his own mind, after having made the memoranda I have
mentioned, when he was taken off so suddenly, that he could
not finish the business. Only a little time before, while trot-
ting the baby, who had been named for him, he said to my
wife's mother, “ This little fellow is to be my heir."
After the funeral was over, my good Uncle Stephen, then
in his seventieth year, insisted on making a will, and wanted
me to put it into shape ; saying that he knew the intentions
of his brother, who had talked freely with him on the subject,
the fall before, and that he desired to carry out those inten-
tions to the very letter. I remonstrated ; saying the inher-
itance had been cast upon him by the act of God, and ought
to take the channel prescribed by law. He persisted, and I
still refused; urging him to send for Mr. Longfellow, or Gen-
eral Fessenden, to draw the will. «Why, John,” said he,
THE WILL-CASE.
397
" thee knows there's no male of our name left: thy sister is
unmarried, and Lydia [his only daughter], though married,
has never had, and never will have a child,” giving the rea-
sons; and the whole estate would go to strangers at her
death.” At last, I consented, upon the condition that Lydia,
and Oliver, her husband, should be consulted, and be hand-
somely provided for, during life, and her husband, if he sur-
vived her; and that “Aunt Ruth,” her own mother — not her
step-mother, as the public believed — her father never having
been married but once, should be put beyond the reach of
accident; and then drew the will, substantially, as follows:
After a few trifling legacies, and ample provision for the
widow, during life, the whole estate was to go to tlie daughter,
and if she died without issue, then to me and my heirs, Oliver
being well provided for. To guard against misrepresentation,
I persuaded him to appoint Lydia's husband co-executor with
me; and then I left the instrument in that husband's possession.
That will I have never seen but once, from that day to this;
and then I called for it on a trial in court, and obliged the
parties to produce it, much to their consternativn; for they
had overlooked the joint executorship, which, of itself, was
conclusive to show the falsehood of certain reports they had
put in circulation, to say nothing of the singular fact that the
will was found, not in my possession, but in Dennett's.
After a few months, my good uncle, who had removed from
the next house to ours, into a distant part of the city, finding
the collection of his rents, dividends, &c., very troublesome,
consulted with me about employing for his agent, Mr. Neal
Dow, a near neighbor of his at the time. I advised him to
do so, by all means. Not long after this, Dennett called on
me, and, afier declaring that “ Aunt Ruth” was worrying
“ father's ” life out, giving him no rest, by night or day, for
money to send her only brother, David Green, wished me to
have Uncle Stephen put under guardianship, at his own
request, that he might live in peace, and be rid for ever of
such importunity.
· I promised to look into the matter, and was preparing to
see Uncle Stephen, when Samuel F. Hussey, an aged Friend,
called on the same errand; and when I hesitated, though
willing enough to do it for the sake of cousin Lydia and
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WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Oliver, having no favors to ask for myself, he said, “ John,
does thee want thy aunt to kill thy uncle ?” Whereupon, I.
consented to take the preliminary steps, by seeing Uncle
Stephen, who said, “Why, cousin,” — he sometimes called
me " cousin" "what, after all, is a guardian, but an attorney
who gives bonds ? I am very lame, as thee knows; my sight
gers are too stiff and clumsy for writing or counting money."
lle had been, for a long time, a “hot-crop” doctor, of the
Thompsonian school, and used to take the preparation him-
self, by teaspoonfuls, in the coldest weather: it was like noth-
ing I ever tasted, in a liquid shape, or ever heard of; being a
decoction or tincture of cayenne pepper, cantharides, or in-
candescent lava. He had quite a reputation, and a large,
though I am afraid not a very profitable, practice. I yielded,
at last, but left Mr. Hussey, a rough, obstinate old man, to
make the application. Mr. Dow was appointed guardian at
Uucle Stephen's written request, after the mayor and alder-
men of the city had examined a few witnesses.
Within five months after this, Dow called on me, and stated
that his charge had greatly improved in health, having boarded
with him, and no more needed a guardian than Dow's own
father, Josiah Dow, who managed his own business without
help, though inany years older than Stephen Neal. I told
him to see our Probate-Judge, and be governed by his advice.
After a brief examination, the guardian was discharged, and
my good uncle was set free; and then a Quaker-committee,
cousisting of Hussey and others, beset him, and after obtain-
ing conveyances from him to Dennett and wife, executed in
their presence, and at their solicitation, to the amount of ten
thousand dollars, succeeded in obtaining a will in favor of the
Society; constituting it a residuary legatee, and giving it all
that remained, after the legacies were paid off: and then, lest
he might change his mind, they made no less than three
several attempts to put him under guardianship again; two
of which utterly failed, the mayor and aldermen certifying
that he was compos, while the third, being at the time of his
last sickness, and after he began to break up, was allowed to
prevail, without objection. After this, I had nothing more to
do with my uncle's business; but being at Boston, in the fall
NEAL DOW AND THE WILL-CASE.
399
of 1835, on a lecturing trip, I received a letter from Mr.
Neal Dow, saying that niy uncle had destroyed the Quaker-
will, which I had never seen, because the Quakers had turned
“ Aunt Ruth” and his father, Josiah Dow, out of meeting,
and that he had just made a will in my favor; that he (Mr.
Neal Dow) “should charge me like a lawyer,” for what he had
done, without consulting me, and without my knowledge; and
that 6 Uncle Stephen hoped I would soon be back, for he
wanted to see me." I returned, without hurrying, and called
on my good uncle. I did not see the will, nor ask to see it.
He spoke freely about the proceedings of Hussey and the
Quaker-committee, and said they had managed to strip him of
the larger part of his property, including all his cash and
notes, for the benefit of Lydia, who would never be satisfied
till she had every thing, and then took the rest to themselves,
and turned his wife, and his old friend, Josiah Dow, “out of
meeting," for refusing to co-operate with them in their
schemes.
Within a few days after this, Mr. Neal Dow called on me
with deeds of all my uncle's estate and mortgages of the
same, prepared by himself, and this, too, without my knowl-
edgě or consent, saying, that, after a thorough sifting of the
old gentleman's affairs, it had been found that he could not
live on his diminished income, and that he had, therefore, pro-
posed the following plan: my uncle to convey to me all his
l'eal estate, in fee, together with a twenty-five-liundred-dollar
note he held for certain land in dispute, the title to which has
just been decided, after twenty years' litigation : he to receive
all the rents and profits during life, and I to secure to him
annuities of equal amount, and to his wife another annuity,
if she survived him; provided, nevertheless, that all the
property so conveyed should continue subject to the wants of
both husband and wife, even though it should all be used up.
The proposition was absurd in itself, and any man who would
accept such an offer ought to be put under guardianship, as I
told Mr. Dow at the time. Nevertheless, if he and others
thought my good uncle would be left in peace, I would accept
the offer, and not only mortgage back all the property so con-
veyed to me, but give him a mortgage on other property,
worth twenty, or twenty-five thousand dollars, to cecure the
400
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
annuities; which I did forthwith. At last, in December,
1836, my poor uncle dies, in comparative peace, and the will
in my favor is offered for Probate; General Fessenden rep-
resenting the daughter, and opposing the will upon three
different grounds. First, fraud, by insinuation only; second,
undue influence: that of Aunt Ruth, Neal Dow, or myself;
though it was clearly proved that I had nothing whatever to
'do with any of the wills, except the first, which I had left
with Dennett, the son-in-law, as co-executor; and third, in-
sanity, or unsoundness of mind. It was on this occasion that
I felt justified in telling General Fessenden, the father, in
open court, that he would say any thing for a fee, and swear
to it, for another. The will was approved, pro forma; and
then began a series of trials-at-law, which continued from
1837 to 1858 - twenty-one years — the will being set aside
by consent, after three trials, one of which lasted sev-
eral weeks; while a conveyance, made at the same time, and
under the same circumstances, by Stephen Neal, on the
legality of which, property worth a hundred and fifty thou-
sand dollars, at least, depended, was finally established; in
other words, it was decided, that, while competent to sell and
convey real estate, he was not competent to make a will! So
much for lawyers, and so much for jurors ! And all this at a
cost, exceeding, I dare say, the original worth of the property
bequeathed.
During this protracted and exasperating controversy, Mr.
Dow was a witness for the will; and, if the jury had believed
him, under oath, even when he told the truth, it would have
been established. But, in the course of investigation, it came
out that he had received a conveyance of stock to his child,
from Stephen Neal, of which I had never heard a lisp, and
that the addition to his house, which he had built for the corn-
fort of his ward only, and for which he had been allowed, on
settlement with his ward, had been occupied by the ward but
a few months ; three or four, at most. These facts, undoubt-
edly, had, as they ought to have had, no little influence with
the jury, in weighing the testimony of Dow; so that I lost the
whole estate, in consequence of that man's grasping disposi-
tion, craft, and cunning. And this, too, I am ready to forgive,
on scriptural terms.
NEAL DOW AND THE WILL-CASE.
401
It was during the progress of these trials, that much of
what I have already narrated, took place; but our quarrel
happened long after the will was set aside by consent, when,
owing to the merest accident, I discovered how long he had
been abusing my confidence, and making use of me for the
promotion of his own private views, and secretly slandering
both me and mine, while pretending the greatest admiration,
deference, and friendship. But there were other incidents,
which I have not yet alluded to. One day, our late mayor,
Levi Cutter, called on me to say that we were to have a mob
at the Quaker meeting-house, and he wanted me to be there.
I had been always known for a colonizationist: I had met
with Lundy, at Baltimore, and rescued a woman-slave there
at noon-day, in the public streets, who obtained her freedom,
after legal inquiry; and with Garrison, while he was editing
a paper, somewhere in Vermont, called the “ Philanthropist,"
I had.corresponded, so far, at least, that when he threatened to
do something what, he knew not, like Lear— to make him-
self famous, and said I might be glad to write his biograplıy,
or epitaph, some day, I forget which, I answered that I would
do so with the greatest pleasure, and I cared not how soon.
On referring to the “ Yankee,” I find the language to be as
follows. Under date of Aug. 15, 1828, he says, while the
feathers were flying, “ If my life be spared, my name shall
one day be known so extensively as to render inquiry unneces-
sary, and known, too, in a favorable manner. I speak in the
spirit of prophecy, not of vain glory." Bravely spoken, was
it not? And then, too, how well he has kept the promise!
I had also met him at Friend Hussey's, where we had a brief,
though somewhat noisy discussion, all the women being with
him; and where, after expressing a desire to meet me in pub-
lic, I had answered, “With all my heart, whenever and
wherever you please." "Ah, but you will have the advan-
tage of me. You are accustomed to extemporaneous speaking;
and I, to writing, only.” — “Very well,” said I, “you may
write your speech, and I will answer it, on the spot, wherever
you may be; you giving me one hour's notice of the meet-
ing.” To this he agreed, and here we parted; but, soon
after, as I happ.ned to be going through New-York, with my
wife, on our way to the Western country, and thence to
26
402
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Europe, in 1834, or 1835, I should say, I found myself one
day in the Courier-and-Inquirer office, where, by the way, I
first met with Mr. Bennett, who had just been secured for
that paper, and was there introduced to me by Colonel Webb,
I was informed that a meeting was called in the Park, by
William Lloyd Garrison, for that very evening. After some
talk, I consented to take a .hand. It was arranged that we
should all go to the meeting, and adjourn to Old Tammany,
and that there, I should offer a resolution, which was to be
seconded by Mr. Graham, afterward postmaster. We went,
took possession of the meeting, and adjourned to Tammany;
and I had the greatest difficulty in crowding my way up to
the platform, all out of breath, choked with dust, and steam-
ing with perspiration, where I called for Mr. Garrison, or
any of his friends, to appear; promising them safe conduct
and fair play. But nobody answered. I made a short speech:
Graham backed out; and the resolutions were passed
with a roar, like that you may sometimes hear in the Bay of
Fundy. On my way out, I was completely surrounded, lifted
off my feet, and carried by storm into a cellar, and, by the
time we were seated at the table, out sprang half a score of
bowie-knives, and as many pistols; and at least a dozen cards
were handed me, with “ Alabama," • Georgia," and "South-
Carolina,” under the names. They had proposed, a few min-
utes before, to go after Garrison, 10 some church, where they
were told he was to be found; and went so far as to say, that,
when I called for him, if he had appeared on the platforin,
they would have “rowed him up salt river.” And then they
asked me if I had not seen their hand-bill. I had not, nor
heard it mentioned; but it seems that in the afternoon, they
had issued a poster, calling upon the “men of the South,"
to be present at the meeting, which was to take place in the
Park. I told them what would have been the consequences,
if they had meddled with Garrison where I was ; for we were
banded together, Colonel Webb, Mr. Graham, and perhaps
twenty more, with a determination to see fair-play, at the risk
of our lives; taking it for granted that free discussion could
do the cause of truth no harm. To this, my new Southern
friends assented, at last, and gave up the idea of tearing down
a church, because a hunted man had found shelter with the
women there, and we parted in peace.
MOB AT PORTLAND.
403
I had also a discussion with the whole body of abolitionists
here in Portland — the abolitionists proper, the Garrisonians,
I mean; for I was, at the time, and always had been, opposed
to slavery, though I did not then believe in "immediate, un-
conditional, and universal emancipation” — which continued
day after day, for about a week, where I stood alone, against
a number of the small fry, and a swarm of pollywogs, just
ready for transformation, headed by General Fessenden ; and
at the end of the meeting had succeeded in organizing
a Colonization Society, and taken their subscriptions; and
pitiful enough they were : so pitiful, indeed, that, after trying
to collect a portion, I took them all upon my own hands, and
paid over the amount to Mr. Gould, the cashier : something
over a hundred dollars, if I do not mistake. Yet more. I
had taken President Roberts, then on his way to Liberia, into
my house, and treated him as the Prince Regent treated
Prince Saunders, to the unspeakable amazement of our
abolitionist brethren.
When I was notified, therefore, that a mob was threatened
to put down a gathering of abolitionists, at the Quaker meeting-
house, I determined to help in putting down the mob, or take
the consequences. Before I left my house, Mr. Dow called
upon me to say, that he should be there with his whole engine
company, and asked if I was not going armed. “Yes,” I said,
“armed with a cloak and lantern. Let us take our light with
us, spring it upon them by surprise, and we shall need
no other arms. If we can but see their faces, they will
be afraid to begin.” And we found it so. I stood in the
doorway, till the meeting was over; and although a dead cat
was thrown at me, and there was no little pushing, till I told
them to close the door behind me, and keep it closed, while I
stood outside on the stone-steps, no violence was offered, till
after I had entered the house, hat in hand, and told General
Fessenden, if he would follow me, and let the women follow
him, I would be answerable for their safety, though the street
was black with a portentous, muttering crowd at the time.
Soon after we startert, however, I was told, though I did not
see it, nor hear any thing of it until the next clay, that Mr.
Dow's chief-engineer had throttler a fellow named Capen,
and carried him off, while Dow was shouting, “ No. , to the
404
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
rescue!” and that a Mr. Nathan Winslow, a desperate,
unrelenting Quaker-abolitionist, who, like Garrison, was clam-
oring for immediate, universal, and unconditional emancipa-
tion," had stepped out of the ranks, at one time, saying that
he didn't want any of my protection, he could take care of
himself; but, while he was yet speaking, and before the words
were well out of his mouth, he was pitched headlong into the
gutter, and rolled over in the mud, and then allowed to escape;
while I went on my way, until I had reached Morton's Row,
where I found another black, muttering crowd assembled
about the store, next to the house of Mr. Longfellow. On
asking what had happened, I was told that they had got a boy
in there, and that they, the rioters, meant to have him out.
6 Close the windows and doors ! ” I shouted. — “ Won't you
come in?” – “No: but close up! close up! and leave me
here; I can take care of myself.” They did so; and the
next moment, my lantern having been put out, I received
a push, and then a blow on my leg, as from the foot of a
strong man : whereat I called for the sneaking cowards to
show themselves, promising to thrash as many as could stand
before me, if they would not cling to my legs, nur get on my
back. This appeared to satisfy then that I was in earnest,
and I was left in peace.
But, speaking of mobs and riots, although I have had no
large experience in that way, I must not forget to mention
that which was called the Astor-Place riot, in 1858, I believe,
not the Astor-House mob, as I once gave it in “True Woman-
hood," through sheer carelessness. Happening to be in New-
York, at the time of Macready's re-appearance, after the pas
de mouchoir, in his representation of Hainlet, which provoked
Forrest to hiss him, (at Glasgow, was it not?) and wanting
my daughter to see him, I made up a little party for his Mac-
beth, or Virginius, I forget which, nor is it material, two of
his finest impersonations. Before the hour arrived, we had
several hints that mischief was brewing. Nevertheless, we
determined to take our chance. On our arrival, the first thing
that struck me unpleasantly, as "a note of preparation," was
the crowded pit, black and porteutous, and the scarcity of
women, both above and below. Macreacly appeared, and, al-
though a woman occupied the stage with him, the outcries
ASTOR-PLACE RIOT.
405
and shouting and screaming and cat-calls were tremendous.
For half an hour, not a sentence could be heard in our box,
though we were very near the stage. At last, while they
were shying pennies from the gallery, a large English two-
penny-piece, intended for the stage, fell into our box, passing
near the head of my daughter. I rose up and remonstrated.
“ Three cheers for Forrest!” was the answer. Then came a
heavy chair, which went whirling by us, and struck the stage,
within a few feet of the players, and was broken to fragments,
Upon this, I stepped on the outside of the box, and stond
up, and called them a set of cowardly miscreants, to be guilty
of such violence toward women. “Let us pray!” was the
answer: probably mistaking me for a clergyman, as I wore
black, and my coat was buttoned up to the chin. At this, I
turned to go, saying that I should return after the ladies were
in safety. “No, you won't," said they ; "you'll never come
back!” and then followed another explosion of laughter, and
a roar, like that of a whole menagerie. « There you go!
Good-bye!” Having disposed of my daughter and her friends,
I came back, and was just on the point of taking my first
position, on the outside of the box, when young Mr. Tal-
madge, son of the recorder, and somebody else with him, tried
to prevent me; saying, that, as I was a stranger, I could have
no idea of a New-York mob; they would swarm up from the
pit, and clear the boxes. “I will answer for my box," said
1, “if they should try to carry it by assault. Up here I have
a great advantage, you see.” “Look out!” was the reply;
“ for these fellows are armed to the teeth, and would shoot
you from below. Beside, we have been assured, by Mr.
- 's coachman, that the Empire-Club is here, in full
strength, and all armed.” But no! I would not listen to their
suggestions; and, after begging them to see that the ruffians
did not get in my rear, I stepped upon the outer edge of the
box, swung my hat, and called out, “ Three cheers for
Macready!” for whom, by the way, I cared not a snap, save
that, being a stranger, while Mr. Forrest was at home, with
the Bowery-boys, I wanted him to have fair play. Upon
this, the whole audience seemed to spring to their feet; the
women all rose and waved their handkerchiefs; and so large
a portion of pit, gallery, and boxes, that I was quite aston-
406
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
ished, and called upon the rioters to try their “ Three cheers
for Torrest," once more. They accepted the challenge, and
the shouting that followed was so feeble, after the first out-
break, and so scattering, that I could not forbear laughing at
them; asking how they felt now, and whether, as a matter of
fact, they were not ashamed of themselves ? They seemed
to take what I said in very good part; for I heard laughing
above, and below, and all about me; but just then, as I was
told the next day, though I knew nothing of it at the time,
the leader of the mob, and the foremost of the Empire-Club,
Isaiah Rynders, Esquire, struck Mr. Hiram Fuller, the editor,
a heavy blow in the face, just outside of the entrance to our
box, which I had asked them to take charge of, lest the black-
guards should get into my rear. Nothing serious happened
after this, and the next day I returned to Portland, where I
first heard of the terrible riot which followed the next eve-
ning, when Mr. Recorder Talmadge took the matter up, and
“sarved the rioters out,” after a fashion to be remembered, and
followed, in similar cases.
But to return: I had a revelation of Mr. Dow's character
that evening, which I never thought of, until long after he had
made himself so conspicuous in the cause of temperance. While
arranging a course of procedure before the attack, he said he
felt more than half inclined to take up with the abolitionists;
they were a growing party, and were likely to get into power.
I do not give his words, but the substance ; for it reminded
me of what Garrison had threatened, before he was agent and
lecturer for the Colonization Society, which he abandoned for
abolitionisın, and then abused most outrageously, for reasons
I never quite understood. He meant to be heard, to become
notorious, and to deserve an epitaph, or at least a biography,
from me, as I have mentioned already.
At another time, while the first will-case was on trial, Mr.
Dow, in the presence of my wife, proposed to fall in, by ucci-
dent, with some of the jury, and have a little talk with them;
and when I rejected the proposition, hardly believing him to
be in earnest, he then said that one of the principal witnesses,
named Osgood, who worked in the tanyard, he had sent off
to the engine-house, Dow being the chief-engineer at the
time, where he meant to drop in, by accideut, and, without
NEAL DOW'S MANAGEMENT.
407
entering into conversation about his knowledge of Uncle
Stephen's business capacity and habits, to begin talking to
himself, while Osgood was cleaning up the harnesses and
machinery, but loud enough to enlighten him on several im-
portant points, in such a way, that, if he should be questioned
in court, whether anybody else had talked with him on the
subject, and especially Dow, he could answer no, with perfect
safety! I denounced the whole procedure, with a feeling of
surprise, akin to indignation, and refused to allow it, or to
have any thing to do with such tampering. Not only was it
wrong in itself, but extremely hazardous, and might be fatal.
He could not see any thing wrong in it, he said. The prop-
erty in dispute was clearly and honestly mine, and they were
trying to lie me out of it, by fraud, misrepresentation, and
perjury.
“And that,” said my wife to me, after Dow had left the
room, “that you call an honest man!” I laughed, and said,
what I then believed to be true, “Oh! he is a great manager,
honest enough, I dare say, but too cunning by half; and then,
too, he knows so much, and values himself so highly on his
knowledge of mankind, and on his cleverness in baffling, out-
witting, and overreaching the dishonest.”
:: One other sample of his management, and I have done with
Mr. Neal Dow, for ever, I hope.
· One day, after the election of General Harrison, which I
had urged, upon the ground, that, if we could not have Harry,
we would have Harry's-son, it being believed that I had con-
tributed, in a measure, to the glorious result, by speechifying,
and writing, and laboring, in season and out of season, and by
stopping the Portland steamer, that I might take the news of
our triumph in Maine along with me to the Syracuse-Con-
vention —-via Mr. Thurlow Weed - and then laboring through
New-York and Massachusetts, at the Harrisburg-Convention,
and, above all, through the Washington-Supper; the proceed-
ings of which I reported for Gales and Seaton — nobody else
qualified, being sober enough for the job, said Mr. Gales - and
paying my own expenses from first to last: one day, after all
this, iny enthusiastic friend, Neal Dow, called on me to know
what I intended to ask for myself. "Nothing," said I, “ noth-
ing whatever. I have no preteusions, no claims; and I do
408
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS. .
not know an office in the gift of President, or Governor, which
I would accept.” And I was perfectly sincere.
“ Very well,” said he; "then I want you to do me a favor.”
-“With all my heart; what is it?" "I want you to have
me appointed Aide to Governor Kent.” — “ You! a Quaker,
and wholly unacquainted with military affairs !” – for all he
knew, he had learned with me of Leviuski, who drilled a few
of us for a month or two, in the cavalry and infantry exercise ;
Mr. Dow riding a clumsy brute from his father's bark-mill,
which, when he rode at a fence, always boggled and stopped
short on the wrong side, and never tried a ditch. “Never
mind all that,” said he; “I want the office, and if you ask for
it, I shall get it; for I know — emphatically – I know that you
can have any thing you ask for.” And so I applied for the
office, and obtained it for him, without asking another ques-
tion, though people who knew him best were most puzzled ;
Senator Fessenden, among others, who told me that he was
present when the governor issued the commission. “What
on earth," said Fessenden to the governor, 6 what on earth
can Neal Dow want of a colonelship?” -“Not knowing,
can't say," said the governor, “but there is Neal's letter;
judge for yourself.”
Having secured this appointment, Mr. Dow next begàn
writing in the papers about “ Harbor-Defences ;” and the
next thing he did, was to call on me for a letter to the Secre-
tary of War, recommending him as qualified to superintend
the works in our harbor, and to act as a disbursing-agent
here; large appropriations having been made for this harbor.
“ But you are no engineer,” said I; “you have not studied
fortification, or gunnery.”—“No matter for that: engineers
are not wanted; all they want is a superintendent, or dis-
bursing-agent, to carry out the plans adopted by the engineer-
department.” And then to satisfy me of his entire fitness, he
asked me to read the papers he had written about “ Harbor-
Defences.” I did so; pronounced them judicious, and well
written, as they certainly were, and was about to say more,
when I saw at once what he was driving at. With the title
of Colonel, and acting as Aide to the governor, these papers
would be taken for the suggestions of a military man, who
II
f
WOMAN'S RIGHTS.
409
might be safely trusted with the work. Was there ever a
better-contrived mancuvre ? Here the manager surpassed
himself; and he never equalled it afterward, till he shot poor
Robbins, the sailor, without provocation or excuse, after
marching and countermarching his battalions, and moving this
way and that, upon the enemies' works, with twenty or thirty
men, at most, I believe; of all which we had an official bulletin
the next morning, as if he had carried another Malakoff or
Sebastopol by storm — killing him just outside of a thick, dou-
ble door, which was riddled with bullets, and all from the in-
side, where Mr. Neal Dow and his confederates were blazing
away in safety, upon a defenceless, unarmed gathering of the
people, who had come to see what was brewing — all! not a
single shot being from the outside! To me, it seemed a case
for which Mr. Dow ouglit to have been put upon immediate
trial. In England, he would have been hanged upon the evi-
dence; but here, having a large party to uphold him, and
obtain a pardon, if convicted, what had he to fear? But
enough. These facts are not to be misunderstood. Of bis
career since, as a military man, I dare not trust myself to
speak. Some of the stories told of him everywhere, may be
exaggerations, or, perhaps, downright calumnies; but some are
so much of a piece with his manoeuvring here in the tem-
perance-organization, and with his management of their cham-
pion, the Reverend Mr. Peck, our defaulting State-Treasurer,
for whom Dow was one of the sureties, as to make them very
probable, to say the least of it.
And now for another of the great leading objects of my life
- WOMAN'S RIGHTS, and WOMAN'S WRONGS. But before I
enter upon that, allow me to say that I came near shipwreck-
ing my reputation for common-sense and reasonable foresight,
by my championship of General Bratish, Count Eliovich,
&c., &c., about the same time, in a pamphlet of fifty large
octavo pages, closely printed, most of which I have had to
unsay, within the last twelvemonth; because, forsooth, I could
not bear to stand by, and see a poor fellow wronged by a set
of banded conspirators and cut-throats, as I then believed, and
had good reasons for believing them to be.
But I had other irons in the fire; and a pamphlet may be
found, of perhaps a hundred pages or so, according to my
410
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
present recollection, written by me immediately after the
overflow of Cairo, in 184, when the city itself was said to
have been submerged and about washed away, wherein I give
a history from the first, after it came into the hands of the
late Darius B. Holbrook, one of the shrewdest, and most lib-
eral and enterprising men of our day, with sagacity and fore-
cast enough to lay the foundations of another Tyre, if he had
been allowed to live a few years longer, showing what a pro-
digious power it was in embryo, and what it must be in time,
if the Missouri and Ohio didn't dry up; and bespeaking for
it, among our capitalists, the consideration it deserved. Thus
far, it seems to have been faithful to the promise I made for
it, as a geographical centre, and treasure-house, for the unex-
plored Western-World.
While investigating this matter, years before, I had been
shown a scheme of Life-Assurance, on a Mutual Plan, sug-
gested by the London Loan-Company, whereby the assured,
instead of being called upon to pay all their premiums in cash,
five per cent cash, afterward changed to fifty per cent, so as to
avoid assessinents; and give notes for the balance, on interest,
at six per cent; so that, instead of allowing others to invest
for them, and manage for them, they would keep at least one-
half of the capital they had invested, always within reach, for
emergencies. I liked the plan; and, with a view of intro-
ducing it here, consented to be agent for Maine. And such
was the success I met with, following a good-sized volume of
stories, reasonings, facts, and statistics, which I sent to our
papers, from time to time, that I found it for my advantage
to give up law — law, physic, and divinity, I might say, to-
than half the commissions which have been allowed since by
the company to my successor, and to other agents. Never-
theless, I do not complain ; for I have lived to see the Mutual-
Benefit Life Insurance Company take its place among the
foremost philanthropic institutions of the world, for safety,
wisdom, and foresight; offering advantages, on the whole,
superior to those of any other association I know of, either
abroad or at home.
And now for the subject last mentioned — WOMAN'S
WOMAN'S RIGHTS.
411
RIGHTS. I had been the advocate of “ Woman's Rights,” for
Bentham, who, while arguing for universal suffrage, seemed
willing to overlook woman, for a while, if not for ever. But
he had materially changed his views before I left England.
Here I renewed the controversy - though not as I might have
done — by touching upon the subject now and then, and here
and there, in the “ Yankee."
At last, I was taken to task for my sluggishness, and alto-
gether by surprise, in the year 1831, if I do not mistake,
since which I have never lost sight of my object, nor relaxed
my etforts in behalf of women, as our equals, our co-efficients,
and co-equivalents. Late in the afternoon, one day, I was
accosted in the street by two members of a committee, who
had been looking for me. They had engaged an orator for
the Fourth-of-July — this was the third and they had just
been apprised that he would not be able to toe the mark.
What was to be done? They thought of me, and acknowl-
edged that they had been after me, because they knew not
where else to go.
. Of course, if I ever wrote an oration, there was no time for
writing now. I accepted; and the next day appeared in a
pulpit, a place which I had long been familiar with, and
opened upon the multitude, who crammed the house to over-
flowing, with an unpremeditated annunciation of the great
principles I have always contended for, from that day to this ;
maintaining that women were the equals of man from the
first; God having created Man in his own image, “male and
female created he them ;” that identity was one thing, equality
another; two properties which need not co-exist; that taxa-
tion and representation were correlatives, and could not be
separated; that virtual representation was no representation
at all, as our Fathers had undertaken to demonstrate by the
mouth of cannon and the blaze of musketry, although it was
no sooner acknowledged for unquestionable truth, as well as
that allegiance and protection, taxation and representation,
were “parts of one stupendous whole, whose body Nature
is, and God the soul,” than they, our Revolutionary Fathers,
turned round upon all the women of the country, being one-
half, at least, of our whole population, and overwhelmed
412
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
them with the very dogmas they had been fighting against;
not only disfranchising them, but enslaving them for ever, and
ranking the married with felons, idiots, infants, and lunatics,
and the unmarried with Choctaws and South-Sea-Islanders ;
having no rights worth mentioning, except the right of serv-
ing and paying for the privilege, or the right of ministering
to man's gratification. I asserted that our women were
slaves, bond-slaves, not having a right to their own bodies,
their own children, nor their own earnings; which is the very
definition of absolute slavery; not being allowed to acquire
or transmit property during marriage, nor to vote before mar-
riage, nor after marriage, though taxed to the uttermost;
nor, under any circumstances, to have a voice in the making
of laws, in the administration of laws, or in the choice of
rulers : all the sovereign powers of government, legislative,
executive, and judiciary, being concentrated in one body —
the man — which, of itself, constitutes an oligarchy. In short,
I exhausted the subject, and laid a foundation for about all
the arguments I have heard since in favor of woman's rights;
and all this, be it remembered, without preparation, or a sin-
gle note. Of course, the people were astonished. Some
were puzzled and perplexed, and others horrified; but I had
the mass with me: most of the men, and a large part of the
women, as I have had reason to know since.
Immediately following this outbreak and overflow, I lec-
tured in several places upon “Woman's Rights ;” and, among
others, at the Tabernacle, in New York City, after which a
debate was called for, and Mr. Stone, the editor, and some-
body else, I forget whom just now, were chosen to meet me,
and the debate came off before a large, though not over-
crowded, assembly. The substance of Mr. Stone's whole
argument was in the form of interrogatory - How is a wo-
man to go aloft, if she enters the marine-service ? followed
by the overwhelming declaration, that, where women reign,
men rule. “Very true," said I; “but who chooses the men ?
Look at the ministers and generals of Elizabeth, and compare
them with the women of Charles II. and George IV.”
From time to time, since then, I have lectured and written
much upon the subject, foreseeing and foretelling what has
since happened in the changes of public opinion ; for I felt
WOMAN-SUFFRAGE.
413
the ground-swell afar off, and I knew it must come, like the
gathered waters through the Bay of Fundy, all the more to
be dreaded if any hinderances were offered, whenever such
hinderances were swept away. In a freshet, we know, that
whatever does not effectually stop the accumulating waters,
though it may hinder or delay for a season, only adds to their
momentum at last.
In March, 1857, I began a series of papers in the “ Phreno-
logical Journal,” on “Woman's Rights and Woman's Wrongs,"
which were continued through several successive numbers,
wherein, among other things, I reviewed the positions of
Senator Morrell, taken by him against Woman's Rights"
in the United States Senate-Chamber. Being one of our
ablest men, clear-headed, conscientious, and, if not always
convincing, at least, plausible, I chose to tilt with him, instead
of breaking a lance with the camp-followers, buglers, and
guerillas.
And, within the last three months, having been summoned
to attend a convention of the sisterhood, with half a score of
helpers and coadjutors, who wore hats, which I was unable to
answer in person, I bore my testimony in writing; and, from
that day to this, have been popping away at our busiest and
most formidable adversaries, whenever they ventured to show
their heads above their intrenchments: like Mrs. Pierce, of
the “ Atlantic," and Gail Hamilton, the Reverend Mr. Cham-
bers, of Philadelphia, and Ex-Governor Washburn, though,
for aught I know, he may be with us in heart; for the views
he enunciates in favor of equal suffrage, through the exercise
of Congressional power, do of necessity include women, if
principle and consistency are to govern.
Mrs. Pierce, for example, says in the “ Atlantic” for Feb-
ruary,“ Suppose that manhood-suffrage, precisely as men now
exercise it, were to be extended to women. As long as we
agreed with the majority of men, all would go well. Not
being able to fight ourselves, however, and too poor to bring
mercenaries into the field” – as our fathers did — " what
should we do in case of any irreconcilable difference of opin-
ion or interest between men and women voters ? Simply
what we do now in our own families, when we disagree with
a determined husband or father — give up.” But why are
414
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
the unmarried, widows and spinsters, with no husband, no
despotic father, to give up? And why, indeed, should any
woman give up her political preferences or opinions, any more
than her religious opinions and preferences, or her settled, con-
scientious convictions of her understanding upon any subject ?
That a man and his wife are one, and that one, the husband, can
be true, after all, but in a very limited sense. Being answerable
here and hereafter, with a separate understanding, and a sepa-
rate conscience, and a soul to be saved, the wife cannot, if she
would, make her husband answerable for her transgressions.
Knowing well that what our children are now, that will our
country be hereafter, how can she refuse to judge for herself,
and act for herself, in whatever may concern their welfare,
either now or hereafter, even though there should arise an
“irreconcilable difference of opinion or interest”? But wo-
men do not give up in these cases; women of understanding,
women who l'espect themselves, or their husbands, I mean.
Much they may yield for peace, but not every thing. The
ballot, being essentially secret, secures the independence of
all who use it, men or women.
And as to what our sister says of a majority, there seems
to be a strange confusion of thought in her illustration. As
if women would ever all rote alike; as if some would not go
with the minority, while others went with the majority. If
it would be safe to agree with the latter, why not with the
former? And then, too, why may not a woman keep her
own counsel, if her husband or father chooses to trespass on
her natural right? Why should she be required to vote with
him, any more than he with her? And why oblige her to
show her ballot ?
Again she says, “Why should we tease men for the right
of suffrage. when they do not want to give it to us?” — Did
she ever urge that argument while struggling for the emanci-
pation of colored slaves ? _“And when, if we had it, perhaps
we could not use it any better than we can lift the sledge-
hammers, which yet they wield so easily.”
As if casting votes were like forging anchors; or bodily
strength a qualification ! How would feeble, sickly, or delicate
nien like to be reasoned with, in this way? And yet, women
do swing sledge-hammers, and grub oaks, and empty mines,
WOMAN-SUFFRAGE.
415
and load ships, and plow, yoked with cattle, or led by mules,
and carry huge bushels of manure on their backs, while their
loving husbands and fathers, with their “irreconcilable differ-
ence of opinion and interest,” carry the whip, and saunter
along by their side, with pipes in their mouths.
“Furthermore, woman-suffrage," says the dear creature,
" that is, the regulation of our own affairs ... we have now.”
Indeed! But since when and where? In your nurseries, and
kitchens, and wash-rooms. But is that woman-suffrage? ...
“ The expression of our united opinion, and the preferring
of our united request, we have now, without asking any one
for it.” Really! and such reasons are to satisfy the generous
longings, the lofty aspirations of an immortal, desirous of
emancipation, and asking leave to think for herself. “United
opinions are conceded to united requests." But who ever
heard of united opinions, or united requests, if the phrase
means any thing more than we always mean by the right of
petition ? Are the people ever unanimous, ever United ?
But a prayer is one thing, the answer another. You are al-
lowed to ask for what you please, and, therefore, onght to be
satisfied. But how if your petition be refused ? How if your
asking be answered with a ribald jest, or shouting and outcries,
“ Ye have not because ye ask not," perhaps ?
“And I believe with Gail Hamilton," she adds, “that, if
the request were at all wise or reasonable" —- Wise or reason-
able! But who are to be the judges ? Were the women of
New-Jersey unwise or unreasonable, when they petitioned to
be restored to their ancient constitutional, and I might say
inalienable, rights ? or the women of England, when they
were laughed out of court for asking to be considered as
human beings? Were the men and women who remonstrated
and petitioned, year after year, in aid of the blacks, unwise or
unreasonable? Are the ten thousand women of St. Louis,
Missouri, who pay taxes on fourteen and a half millions, ac-
cording to the city assessor, unreasonable, when they ask for a
correspondent representation ? Are the women teachers of
our country, wlio see men teachers paid two hundred and fifty
per cent more than they are allowed, throughout the land, ac-
cording to Mr. Warren Johnson, commissioner of Maine, unrea-
sonable in asking for a little more? Are the women of Boston,
416
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
who pay taxes on forty-one millions of property, twenty-
eight millions of real, and thirteen millions of personal estate,
unreasonable, when they ask for a share in the adminis-
tration ? — 6 And if the request were to come from the
numerical majority of women," she add's, “the Legislature
would no more think of refusing, than a just man would think
of refusing a wife whom he trusted.” But just men, or men
who are called just, do constantly refuse their wives this very
privilege, and oppose it with all their strength. As lawgivers,
would they be likely to change for the better? And then,
too, how are we to ascertain the numerical majority, unless
women are allowed to vote, and their names are registered ?
And if the women were not unanimous, as they never were,
and never will be, any more than men, what is to become of
their, "request” however breasonable ?”
“But women do not ask for suffrage,” say others. More
shame for them, if it were true; but it is not true: They are
asking for it over all the land. No less than a hundred female
teachers in Boston say they want to vote. And if it were
true, what then? The slaves did not ask for freedom as a
body. Only here and there one asked for it.
The Hindoo women did not ask; nor do they now, to be
delivered from the sacrifices of Juggernaut, or the Ganges,
nor from the funeral-pyres of their dead husbands ; but have
always claimed as a distinction, the privilege of being roasted
alive, of drowning their babies, and feeding the crocodiles
with the fruit of their womb, and of being crushed to death,
according to law.
The Chinese, too, whose virtual representatives cripple their
fret to keep them from gadding, only ask to be let alone by the
outside barbarians.
Left to themselves, our children would never take medicine,
ask to be bothered with the alphabet, or restrained from mis-
chief.
But are these good reasons why we, who know better what
They need, and what their rights are, than they themselves
do, should refuse our interposition, if we see them wronged,
or wholly ignorant of their rights?
The Chinese women would resent, furiously resent, any
interference with their immemorial privileges, just as the
Mohammedan women would be likely to flare up, if we should
EQUAL-RIGHTS.
417
suggest a little more freedom of choice, or service, in their
harems and seraglios ; and many of Brigham Young's wives
would be sure to take our interference in their behalf un-
kindly, if they didn't comb our heads with a three-legged
stool.
But would this show that such usages were right, because
they were pot felt to be wrong by the sufferers themselves ?
Would our duty be any the less clear, if we knew them to
be laboring under a delusion, or drugged, or blindfolded ?
we knowing, and they not knowing, the consequence of
hereditary bondage, and paralyzing, deadly prejudice.
But if women do not ask and insist upon the privilege, as
they never yet have done, how can they be expected to value
it, if obtained for them by others ?
Men, though allowed to vote, do not always vote. Upon
the average, not more than three-fifths of the qualified voters
take the field, except upon great occasions. They are allowed
to keep arms in their houses; but how few avail themselves
of the right. As a tax, and not as a privilege, both of these
rights are generally regarded, till some great question arises.
But who would venture to deny these rights, or interpose
with any hindrance? The whole country would be a (amp,
within forty-eight hours, if such rights were ever seriously
questioned.
But women could not vote without unsexing themselves.
And why not? Could not places be set apart for women-
voters ? Could not a committee of the other sex, if you will,
be trusted with the ballot-box for women-voters? And bal-
lots being secret, or they are no ballots, if the voter keeps her
own counsel, how is anybody to know what she does not
choose to reveal ?
But women would have to bear arms, obligations and privi-
leges being correlative and reciprocal; and they are wholly un-
fitted for such work.
I deny both propositions. Only the able-bodied are ever
required to bear arms; and of these, a large proportion are
exempted, even in time of war: all under eighteen and over
forty-five, all the under-sized, and near-sighted, or deaf, or
deformed, all stammerers, all ministers, judges, public officers,
and schoolmasters. And then, too, instead of being unfitted
27
418
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
for the business of war, for the battle-field, the camp, and the
hospital, what says our own experience, during the last.
rebellion ?
“But,” says the Reverend Mr. Chambers, while trumpeting
aloud against "universal suffrage," "woman is forgetting the
position in which God has placed her; and is stooping down
from that platform of female glory and beauty and excellency"
— pooh! pooh! --" to mingle with the drunken crowd, and the
filth of the streets, about the polls, on election-day. What a
pitiable, sorrowful sight, to see the loveliest of God's creation
on earth” – pish! — “the American woman, shouldering and
elbowing with the roughs of your city, the fragments of their
bonnets and the borders of their caps being strewn about the
walks, in their election-riots.” Mercy on us ! what are we
coming to ?
As if women would be obliged to vote with “drunken row-
dies” at the polls, on election-day! As if no contrivance
could be hit upon, for collecting their suffrages elsewhere! .
What if the reverend gentleman should take it into his
head to call upon the educated and refined, the delicate and
sensitive among men, to keep away from the polls, and forego
the right of suffrage, leaving the whole business and govern-
ment of the country in the hands of " drunken rowdies,"
always growing worse and worse, if sober and peaceable men
withdraw, lest the rabble-rout should trample on the toes of
their japanned boots, tear off their coat-tails, or pluck away
their breast-pins and watch-guards, how think you they would
relish such advice, even from the pulpit? And we have more
of this flummery from another reverend gentleman, Dr.
Thompson, in the “ New-England,” for January.
But other objections are urged, and most of them with un-
relenting vehemence. For example: Women are inferior to
men.
Tried by what standard ? There being no common stand-
ard for both, if it were true, it could not be shown. But it
is not true. All history gives the lie to it; all nature. Tried
by the woman-standard, what a figure man would cut! And
yet, you would have woman tried by the man-standard. It
is the female, among birds of prey, that is the larger and
fiercer; the she-wolf and the lioness which are most to be
ARE WOMEN PERSONS ?
419
feared; the queen-bee that first colonizes, and then governs
her commonwealth. It is the female horse that Arabs most
value; and they are capital. judges. “ Flora Temple” and
66 Lady Suffolk," among racers, and the mares you see labor-
ing side by side with their brothers, on all our farms, and in
all our stage-coaches and stables, are enough to prove at least
their equality.
But, if women were inferior, if it were all true, what then?
Are the beardless, the weakly, the feebler of intellect, or even
the underwitted, short of helpless fatuity, among males, denied
the right of suffrage? Are all men alike in bodily strength
or intellect? What says the Constitution ?
Are women persons ? Are they a part of the people ?
What says the Constitution ?
The United-States are to guarantee to every State a repub-
·lican form of government.
Governments derive their just powers from the consent of
the governed.
The House of Representatives shall be composed of mem-
bers chosen every second year, by the people of the United-
States; and electors are to be the great body of the people of
the United-States.
But who are the people? Are not women a part of the
people ?
"Let me ask,” says Mr. Madison, “whether the Constitu-
tion is not scrupulously impartial to the rights and pretensions
of every class and description of citizens ? ” But who are
the citizens ? Are not women citizens ?
By the 14th Amendment, it is declared that all persons
born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the
jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United-States, and of
the State wherein they reside.
Are women persons ? If so, they are citizens; and, if
citizens, then are they a part of the people. And if not per-
sons, what are they? If they are neither citizens, nor of the
people, are they not slaves ? And, if not persons, are they not
chattels ?
But the interests of husband and wife, and of men and
women, are identical; and, therefore, women are not, and
cannot be oppressed; , and being virtually represented by their
husbands and fathers, they have nothing to complain of.
420
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
Nonsense! The interests of no two human beings can
ever be identical, so long as they have two souls, two under-
standings, and two consciences, and are to go to judgment;
and be tried, separately, either in this world or the next;
nay, so long as they differ in temperament, disposition, expe-
rieuce, faculties, or inclinations. As for the rest of the argu-
ment, it is a mere begging of the question ; for either men
have an interest in defrauding and oppressing woman — for
they have always done so, whether civilized, christianized, or
not, and are, therefore, not only knaves and tyrants, but fools.
But enough, and more than enough, perhaps; for if you
“ bray a fool in a mortar," &c., &c.
P.S. While I am writing, a decision has been had in the
United States Land-Office, not only that a woman, if a widow,
is a person, entitled to pre-emption, but that an unmarried
woman, over the age of twenty-one, is a single man over that
of justice and common-sense.
And now, as I am drawing nigh to the end of my journey,
let me say that many things have been omitted, which may be
looked for by those who have best known me, and others
wholly forgotten. And “this reminds me of a little story,"
as our good President used to say, which will go to show how
utterls we may forget some things we have been most familiar
with. When living in Baltimore, my friend Pierpont and I
used to laugh over Tom Moore's “ Two-Penny Post-Bag ;"
and nothing amused us more than the “ Skein of white
worsted at Flint's." A country cousin writes to a Londoner
for quite a heap of things, but especially for a “skein of white
worsted at Flints," which, like the sailor's “ don't forget the
pigtail,” was the burden of her song. Again and again, we
laughed over the phrase, till it had become a by-word with
us, and even with Mrs. Pierpont herself. Not many years
ago, Mr. P. wrote me that he was coming down to Portland,
with his wife, and wanted to know if we needed any thing in
his way. “Nothing," said I, “but a skein of white worsted
at Flint's ;'” remembering how the country cousin had sent
her friend from Dan to Beersheba, from the tower to West-
minster-Abbey, back and forth, after the skein of white
FORGETFULNESS, ETC., ETC.
421
worsted, supposing all these places were near together. Well,
in due time, our guests arrived ; and the first thing they did,
was to unwrap, and lay upon the table before us, a skein of
white worsted. Taking it for a capital joke, I laughed heart-
ily, and then explained it to my good wife, who stood in mute
amazement and perplexity, wondering what it all meant. On
further inquiry, we found that Mr. Pierpont and his wife had
both forgotten the verses of Moore, the “ Two-Penny Post-
Bag," and the use we had made of the skein of white
worsted” at Baltimore, as utterly as if they had never heard
of it before; and what, after all, was the best part of the
joke, he had brought the “skein of white worsted” for us in
perfect good faith.
Let me now finish this long story about myself and my
family, by adding, that, although we do not pretend to belong
to the F.F.'s - the Fuss-Families of our day — we manage,
nevertheless, to be presentable; our kindred on both sides of
the house, and on all sides, being substantial, good-for-nothing
people, who make little noise in the world, are never heard of
in our criminal-courts, nor in Congress ; being, at best, only
good citizens, good fathers, good mothers, and always trust-
worthy, in all the relations of life.
· Nor are we disposed to complain of the few drops of bitter-
ness we have had in our cup. On the contrary, we are per-
suaded that we always fare better than we deserve. Unlike
that farmer, who complained that whenerer hay was high, he
had none to sell; and that, when he had a plenty, nobody
wanted to buy: overlooking the fact, that, because he and
others had no hay to sell, therefore it was high ; and because
everybody had good crops, therefore nobody wanted to buy,
we take it for granted that our crops are always just what
they should be, and always proportioned to our wants. In a
word, we are always contented, though never apathetic nor
sluggish, believing, with the old hump-backed, club-footed
Frenchman, that tout est pour le mieux, and with Alexander
Pope, that “whatever is, is right.”
PORTLAND, Jan. 30, 1869.
AFTER-THOUGHTS.
MARCH 22, 1869. — See page 138. — My attention has lately
been called, by a stray proof, to an amusing incident which
occurred to me at Boston, after the appearance of “ Goldau,"
and the “ Battle of Niagara," in 1818, when I had become
suddenly almost famous, in that neighborhood, showing how
we are influenced, even the best and wisest of us, by trivial
circumstances, in our estimate of others.
One pleasant sabbath-day, I received a delicately perfumed
note from one of Mr. Pierpont's parishioners, a wealthy,
fashionable, aristocratic woman, who, with her estimable hus-
band, was addicted to patronage, inviting me to dinner, at an
hour fixed, “without grace ;” to which I replied, impertinent-
ly enough, I must acknowledge, “ With great pleasure — and
with as little grace as possible.” My friend Pierpont, some-
how, did not seem to relish the joke; but he said nothing.
Perhaps he didn't see it.
At the table, I was greatly distinguished by the attentions of
our high-bred hostess, and complimented so highly, that I
began to feel mischievous.
mind the person you so greatly resemble: can it be Mr.
Greenough, or Greenwood, I forget which” – a young
clergyman of the heterodox type, just settled in Boston, and
almost worshipped by all the women, who didn't belong to
another parish -"or have I not seen you somewhere, and
not very long ago, neither? I have been startled half a dozen
times to-day, by your look or manner, or by the intonation of
424
VANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
your voice, and have begun to persuade myself that we are,
at least, old acquaintances."
“My dear madam," said I -- the temptation was irresistible,
and my recollections of the past were so whimsical, that I
could not forego the opportunity - My dear madam” -
with a deferential air — "I think I can clear up the mystery.
You were in the habit of buying your tea — real Hyson -- of
Mr. James Murphy, three or four years ago, were you not ?”
“My tea! — certainly, to be sure -- but” — She began to
look troubled.
“Of course, you cannot be expected to remember the young,
light-haired, blue-eyed shopman, who always waited on you" —
the lady was all at sea now — " but he remembers you, aud
that he often had the pleasure of serving you with a pound
of that famous tea."
My friend, her pastor, looked as if a bomb had exploded
underneath his chair; and though the lady herself -- or gentle-
woman rather, for I dislike ladies in this part of the world -
pretended to enjoy the joke, she reddened a little — all over, I
should say, if I knew the fact for a certainty, and I am sure I
saw a slight quivering about the mouth, and a little trembling
of the eye-lashes; and I rather think she never forgave me.
Nor did Mr. Pierpont, though he laughed over the transac-
tion, every time it was alluded to, till I went back to Balti-
more.
And by the way, speaking of Niagara, or the “ Battle of
Niagara," a poem by “Jehu O’Cataract," it happens oddly
enough, that this very day, March 22d, 1869, I have received
the following note from a perfect stranger, one of a score I
have been favored with on the same subject, within a few
years, which may serve to show that people have no idea of
what is meant by the “ Battle of Niagara," even while they
profess to admire it prodigiously — at second hand, perhaps,
like Mr. Snelling, in his very smart and spiteful “ Gift for
Scribblers ;” and Mr. James Russell Lowell, in his clever
satire, and somebody else in his — I forget what — who bor-
rowed from Snelling, and copied all his blunders.
AFTER-THOUGHTS.
425
AUBURN, N.Y., March 19th, 1869.
MY DEAR SIR, —- If you can conveniently do so, will you
please send me an autograph copy of your poem written some
time since — The Battle of Niagara.»
An autograph copy of “Niagara”! He might as well have
asked for Niagara itself!
To which most extraordinary and amusing request, I
answered, somewhat in this way: 1st, I have no copy, and
know not where to find one; 2d, An autograph copy would
cost you two hundred dollars ; 3d, That my correspondent
probably supposed it a short “occasional," or "fugitive"
poem ; but even then, to ask of an author and a stranger an
autograph copy of any thing he had written, would be, to say
the least of it, rather inconsiderate, &c., &c., &c. What think
you, fellow-craftsmen ?
P.S. - In due course of mail, I received a handsome
apology from the writer, with many thanks for my plain deal-
ing, and a clear explanation. He had in his library a sample
of the poem - a brick from the house--and, having no idea
how voluminous the structure might be, had asked the favor
of a copy. Whereupon, I forwarded by return mail two pas-
sages from an imperfect copy I had picked up, which, so far as
I knew, had never been handled by the newspapers, or pro-
faned by the book-wrights.
RIFLE-SHOOTING. — See page 315–317.
A little incident may be mentioned here, which gave me,
undeservedly, a prodigious reputation as a sharp-shooter, just
after my return to Portland in 1827. I had never fired a
rifle in my life. My experience had been limited to fowling-
pieces and pistols, except in two cases, where I had been
obliged to make use of a common musket in shooting mad
dogs, though, to be sure, in my early boyhood, I had let off a
bellow's nose -- without a pocket-handkerchief-when charged
to the muzzle with gunpowder, and a tamping of brick dust,
sometimes point-blank at the White-Hills, not more than
sixty miles off, as the crow flies, and sometimes at the blue
426
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
O
heavens, which I seemed pretty sure of missing, even then,
and sometimes at the bluer sea, which always kept the secret;
but, being no marksman, I had never succeeded in “ fetching”
either, to the best of my knowledge and belief.
One day, while sauntering along by the sea-shore, and up
over the brow of Munjoy-Hill, I heard voices from below in
dispute, and soon after, loud laughing, and five or six rifle-
shots, in quick succession, just under the cliff. Upon going
nearer, I saw a large party of young men with rifles, prepar-
ing to "plug" the furthermost head of an empty barrel, at
a distance of not more than a hundred yards. On seeing me,
somebody shouted, “ There he is now ! let us leave it to him!”
“Agreed ! agreed ! let him try his hand !” from all quarters.
And then I was called up, and asked in all seriousness, if I
believed it possible to shoot through an empty barrel, with the
nearest head out, and the farthest head in.
Not knowing, couldn't say ; but I could see no reason why
it should be impossible, as they alleged.
“Would I take a rifle and try ? They had all done their
very best, and failed.”
I had never fired a rifle, as I told them; but should like to
know of my own knowledge, as the lawyers say, that it could
not be done, by a bungler, before trying to account for the
phenomenon ; remembering how Franklin proposed to ascer-
tain the fact, before explaining why the fish and water both
would not weigh more than the water by itself.
Just as I let the piece drop into my hand, it occurred to
me, like a flash, that if I did not aim at the centre of the open
space, it was quite possible that the revolution of the ball might
so disturb the air as to deflect it; might I say, for I had no
time for theorizing, and not much for demonstration. I fired my
ball; it struck the centre of the head, and passed clean through
it.
A shout followed, and I went on my way, as if accustomed
to such things, and not at all astonishied at myself. On my
return, two hours later, I found the same head completely
riddled. This, they explained, by saying that after one hole
had been bored, and the air let in, there was no difficulty.
How that may be, I do not pretend to know ; but facts are
facts; for I have never fired a rifle since, nor a pistol, but
AFTER-THOUGHTS.
427
once, I believe, and then — prepare yourself — I shot a hen,
or something the size of a hen, at a distance of twenty-eight
or thirty-two rods — I forget which in the presence of old
Mr. Ropes himself, the celebrated Connecticut manufacturer,
with his own favorite pistol, which, for a long time, he refused
to part with, “because," he said, with a tear in his eye, “be-
cause he had shot a brother through the head with it, by the
strangest accident, as he crossed the line of fire, while he was
proving the pistol ;” but consented at last, after seeing me use
it, and so I had the fact I have mentioned engraved on a
'brass plate -- nothing but brass would serve my turn — and
sunk it into the wood-work. The last I ever saw of the
weapon, my eldest boy took it with him to Nicaragua, as a
sort of pocket-rifle -- and left it there.
NARROW ESCAPES. -- See page 350.
Among half a hundred narrow escapes I have had in the
course of iny long life, are two or three, sufficiently out of the
common way to be worth mentioning - perhaps.
In the fall of 1838, having to go from Bath to Brunswick
after tea, in a barouche, with two strong, spirited horses, a
distance of only six or eight miles by the common road, my
wife, her mother, and our three children - a girl of nine, a boy
of eight, and another little thing of no particular age, but say
four-- I was overpersuaded by two persous, of experience,
gentlewomen both, who lived at Topsham and were well ac-
quainted with all the ways of that neighborhood, to take one
that had been just opened through the woods, and thereby
save two miles or so, — blockhead that I was! We started
later than I intended, so that, in examining the harnesses, I
overlooked one of the collars. It soon grew dark, and my
horses in their impatience, as I then thought, became almost
unmanageable; so much so, indeed, that on coming to a long,
. rough, and rather steep hill, I begged my whole family to get
out and walk, much to their surprise, while I drore down the
hill by myself. Before I reached the bottom, the horses
began to act so strangely, throwing up their heads, tossing
their manes, and plunging so furiously, that I was almost afraid
to take in my passengers, after I had got there; but after
428
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
alighting and examining the harness with my hands, for it
was too dark to see, I succeeded in soothing them, and got my
freight safely on board, after which, as the road was full of
stumps and the mud up to our knees - almost — I called to
the women in the chaise, to fall back, and let me take the lead,
as they were both exceedingly nervous, and so frightened, that,
with every plunge of their horse, a faint scream or two would
reach us. After plowing through a mile or two of bog, we
came to a bridge ; but before we had gone twice the length of
the carriage, it began to give way underneath. Whereupon,
I stood up, shouting with all my strength, and gave the horses
their heads, and lashed them right and left, to their unspeakable
astonishment, I am sure, for one of them had never felt the
whip, and the other only an occasional touch, at most. For-
ward they sprang - leap after leap plunge after plunge -
and with such a furious clatter on both sides of the carriage,
that, really, I did not feel quite safe, after we had crossed,
until I had thrown myself out once more, and had them by
the heads. I was then told, though I did not quite believe
the story, that, as we went over the bridge, the broken planks
flew up on both sides of the carriage, at every leap.
As soon as I could manage to hold them, in the midst of
charred stumps, and unfathomable mud, I got my family out
once more, and sent our little boy to stop the chaise, and tell
the women to wait until they heard from us; and then all at
once, it occurred to me, like a flash, that, if he tried to go
over on the bridge, it might be dangerous, if not fatal to him.
But what was I to do? There was nobody to hold the horses,
now snorting, and stamping, and fretting in the darkness.
“ Never mind the horses, I said, get out of the way, all of you,
and let them go to the — bugs, if they will, carriage and all ;
we cannot afford to lose our poor boy ;” and off I started,
leaving the horses literally in the midst of what they called
the highway, and my passengers billeted among the stumps, in
a quagmire. And well it was that I hurried; for, on reach-
ing the bridge, I found to my horror the planks all gone, all,
with only here and there a rotten fragment remaining, and
Master James trying to find his way through the darkness, by
feeliny.
On my return, I found a stranger standing by the horses,
AFTER-THOUGHTS.
429
patting and soothing them, and was informed that, having
heard the noises, and the screaming of the women, when I
shouted — the women in the chaise, I mean; for the women
with me, God bless them ! didn't so much as open their
mouths, nor interfere in any way, nor did the children utter so
much as a single peep, or I do believe there would have been little
or nothing left, of carriage or horses — he had come to our help,
and, while fumbling about the harness, had found the hame-
strap unbuckled, and the hame of one collar slipped from the
groove, owing to the carelessness of the hostler at Bath, which
was undoubtedly the sole cause of the trouble I had at the
top of the hill, and after we had jumped through the bridge.
From this man, we learned, moreover, that the bridge was
only a temporary affair, built for the teams that were
employed in making a new road; that it was only six or
eight feet above the swamp-mud, which was — nobody ever
knew how deep, but deep enough to smother us all, if we had
gone through.
Another, and a somewhat similar escape, we had among the
White-Mountains, not long before this, when our eldest born
was almost a baby, or so much of a baby, that on asking her,
as she and the two daughters of our late Marshal Smith,
Adeline and Anne -- now Mrs. Wheelan, and Mrs. Horatio
Bigelow — were lying about in the grass, higgledy-piggledy,
after we had whapped over, and the apples, and peppermints,
and other goodies lay in heaps about her, how she liked
that, she lisped, “ Don't lite it at all, and there's the pep-mins all
spilt, and -- and -- there's the appies all runnin' away.” We
were upset on the side of a steep hill, and the horses were
lying all of a heap, heads and points, in the midst of what was
called, with striking propriety, an abandoned highway, into
which we had blundered by mistake, never seeing our danger,
till the carriage began to rock and heave this way and that,
like a boat drifting through breakers.
On looking out, I saw one of the horses down, and the other,
a very powerful creature, holding back with all his strength.
Over we went, but so slowly, that we had time to make all
our arrangements; Miss Adeline taking the baby (Master
James), and I, after calling to the coachman to jump off and
keep the horses from getting up, time enough to make such
430
WANDERING RECOLLECTIONS.
preparations within, that nobody was hurt. Here, too, we had
no screaming: we all went over in a heap, without opening our
mouths.
How strange the presence of mind people sometimes mani-
fest on such occasions, where you would not look for any
thing of the sort ! . And then again, how strange, after we
have had a narrow escape, to find, upon weighing all the
circumstances, and reviewing our behavior, when, really, there
was no time for thought, perhaps, that we had done just the
very thing that was best! I remember once going down
Union-Street, in mid-winter, when the lower end was all “a
glare of ice.” I had hurt my leg not long before, and was
so lame, that I had to limp along with a cane. While
crossing the street, I heard an outcry, and, on turning my
head, saw a truck-team dashing at full speed after me, and
slueing this way and that, with every plunge of the horses, so
that there was no getting out of their way, and no standing
still, even if I had not been crippled. Just as I had made up
my mind what to do, another team took fright as it was work-
ing a passage over the smooth ice above, and began to slue,
so as to head me off. This probably saved my life; for as the
two sleds passed me, full split, one on my right and the other
on my left, and so near that I was in danger of being crushed,
at every swing, I managed to grasp one of the stakes on each
sled, and, notwithstanding my lameness, to hop from one sled
to the other for a minute or two — it seemed ten minutes, at
least — until I was out of danger. Had I been allowed a
whole hour to think of it, could I have done better, think you?
And yet, I bad only a second or two.
CONTRIVANCES. --- See page 14.
I have already mentioned, I believe — have I not ? -- that I
spelled my name Neale in “ Blackwood,” for the purpose of mis-
leading the busy bodies about me; but I have lately met with
a copy of “Randolph," where I find the same orthograplıy,
for the same reason. I was criticising our writers, and often
rather sharply. Of course, if I did not mention J. N. - , J.
N. would be suspected at once of the authorship. And if I
AFTER-THOUGIITS.
431
natured, inquisitive people about me, off the track? By mis-
spelling the name. This for a long time was effectual; but,
alas! how little did I foresee that, after a time, I should either
lose my own shadow, like Peter Schlimmel, or my identity,
“Even handed justice," &c. &c., -- and this coming back of
our contrivances to “plague the inventors ” — begins to tell
upon me, whenever I see my name spelled with a superfluous
e, like that of Henry C. Neale.
WOMAN's Rights, WOMAN-SUFFRAGE, &c.
By the merest accident, I have just lighted on a verifica-
tion of what will be found somewhat loosely stated, concerning
the origin of our great controversy about Woman's Rights, in
pages 49, 62, 412, &c., &c. It began with me about 1820;
and in the “ Brother Jonathan," vol.v., 1843-twenty-six years
ago!--may be seen a synopsis of the very lecture referred
to, as delivered in the Tabernacle, without notes, in that year,
together with a charming, eloquent, and most ingenious reply:
from Mrs. T. J. Farnham, and my answer thereto, running
severally from pages 183, 236, 266, and 304, all which I had
wholly forgotten, though I had charge of the literary depart-
ment of the “ Brother Jonathan” at the time!
The whole ground is here covered, and the papers on both
sides of the controversy ought to be reproduced in a pam-
phlet, for general circulation.
In my argument, I find references made to the exemption
of Quakers and others, who are conscientiously scrupulous
about bearing arms, and also to the alternative, which has
been so constantly overlooked, whereby even the able-bodied
are permitted to pay a fine or provide a substitute, if, for any
reason, they do not choose to train with the militia, or go to
war.
P.S. - I find, too, a novel of mine — “Ruth Elder”-
which appeared in the “ Brother Jonathan," and also in the
“ Home Journal," and which I had forgotten !
THE END.
To renew the charge, book must be brought to the desk.
TWO WEEK BOOK
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DATE DUE
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THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
GRADUATE LIBRARY
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MAR 2 | 1984

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
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