Memoir of Robert Swain

Front matter

t'^fcap! t. ..... |opright |o t UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. J

January 1, 1847.

A LIST OF BOOKS

Preface

A limited number of copies of this little volume was originally printed for the use of Robert's friends only. The interest felt in the simple and touching story of his life, and a wish for it to be allowed a more general circulation, have been so often and so kindly expressed, that there ought not perhaps to be any hesitation in suffering it to go forth freely on its mission of encouragement and instruction to the young,

MEMOIR.

Chapter I. His Childhood

Robert Swain was born in New Bedford, the 21st of February, 1823. His constitution was delicate from the first, without however any decided manifestation of disease, until he was nearly nine years of age. In the autumn of that year, symptoms of an affection of the hipjoint made their appearance, and in a few weeks the inflammation increased, so that every motion of the limb caused him pain. He was then taken to Boston, and, by the advice of an experienced physician, a splint was made to fit the leg, in which, after his return home, it was confined, so as to prevent any movement of the joint ; and he was placed on a bed, there to remain fifteen months.

A MEMOIR.

It seemed hard for an active boy to be thus deprived of those out-door plays, which are so great a source of amusement in childhood. In Robert's case, this was only the commencement of a series of sacrifices, which, in one form or another, he was obliged to make throughout his short life. And yet few boys were happier, or enjoyed more than he. His bed was his play-ground. He was always cheerful, never at a loss for amusements. He built and rigged boats, learned to sketch objects from his window, or pieces of furniture in the room, watched the vessels sailing in the harbour, read, played with his parrot and canary birds, or with his young friends who came to see him. He had a great love of flowers, and this was a constant source of pleasure. But his own employments and feelings are best described by himself in some letters, written word for word, at this time, as he dictated them. Their perfect simplicity cannot fail to interest the young, and may teach them how a contented and happy spirit can spread a bright gleam of sunshine through even the chamber of sickness and pain.

TO MISS S. P. dear sophia, Feb. 1832.

I have got on the splint, and it does not hurt me at all. Father has had a shelf made for me. It has two legs, one on each side of the bed, and the shelf between ; and it can be moved close up to me, or farther off, just as I please, and I put all my things on it. Mother went to Mrs. A's. the other day, and she sent me some beautiful flowers. And last evening cousin Mary and Sarah were going to the cotillon party, and Mrs. A. sent each of them a bunch of flowers, to wear in their hair, (O, I was going to say, that I put my flowers in water so that they need not fade,) and when Mary came home, she gave me all her flowers, and altogether they made a very pretty nosegay. There is a beautiful double gilly-flower, that smells very sweet indeed; and a rosebud that will bloom very soon, I think, if I keep it in water ; and I have got fourteen pretty little daisies. The other day father moved the bed up to the window, and I took the spy-glass, and watched all the boats and ships, till they got out of sight. I have a school, morning and afternoon. Mother keeps school for me in the morning, and Mary in the afternoon. In the

ME MOIR.

morning I cipher, and have a grammar lesson, and in the afternoon I have history and drawing and spelling. I have made four little boxes, and covered them with pictures. I am making a bead-mark for you, and I shall send it in this letter if I get it done time enough. Every evening father comes up after tea, and plays dominoes with me. I am so happy here, I am almost glad I am lame.

TO THE SAME. dear sophia, New Bedford, May 25th, 1832.

I have waited a great while for an answer to my letter, but there has not any come; sol thought I would write you again.

Mrs. R. sent me a beautiful little canary bird ; he is very tame, and yesterday he came and ate dinner with me. He lit on my waiter, and ate some hominy ; and at night he got on the edge of my bowl and drank some milk out of it. We let him out of his cage every morning, and he stays out all day. Yesterday evening, the chamber-door was a little way open, and we thought he had flown out. Father looked up garret and down cellar, and all about the house, and could not find him ; and, just as I was going to play a game of dominoes with father, I saw him upon the window-shutter ; and, a little while after he put his head under his wing to go to sleep, and father caught him, and put him into his cage again ; and he got up on his highest perch and went to sleep, right away. And this morning I let him out of his cage, and he has been flying about all day. I give him chickweed and canary-seed to eat, and water to drink. He likes to light on the window-sash very much. He will get on the table, and look in the looking-glass, and when he sees another little bird there, he makes the prettiest little noise, just as if he was talking to him.

I have beautiful flowers now, that come out of the garden ; and cousin Sally sent me up a calla some time ago, and I put it in water, with my other flowers, and the little bird lit on it very often, and would peck it; and at last he made so many holes in it, that he spoilt it, and it all withered up, and we were obliged to throw it away. We have some columbines in the* garden, and they bear beautiful flowers, that have honey in them ; and mother picks some and brings them into the house, and puts them in water, and the little bird will light on the edge of the glass, and pick off the ends of the flowers that have honey in them. I have the cage set on the foot of my bed, and the little bird will come and light on my bed, and hop into the cage to get something to eat ; and I have a piece of thread fastened to the door of his cage, so that at night, when he goes in to get something to eat, I pull the string, and that shuts the door of his cage, and I keep him in there till the next morning, and then I let him out again. Sometimes he sings beautifully. The first part of his song is beautiful, but the last is very shrill. The cage is a very pretty one. It has a little piazza to it. I have drawn the cage, and it makes a very pretty picture. Good-by. Robert Swain.

TO THE SAME. my dear sophia, November 7th, 1832.

I have begun this letter the moment I received yours. I have a great deal to say, as I have not written you these two or three months. I have had a most beautiful present sent me to-day from Mrs. P., who lives on Pope's Island, which is one of the small islands over which the bridge crosses. The present is some guinea hen's feathers, besides the feathers of some other birds, to cover a basket with. The basket is

MEMOIR. i

to be made of pasteboard, and the feathers are to be arranged on the outside, and silk or colored paper on the inside. She sent me also a beautiful little stuffed bird, about as large as a canary. The breast is nearly white, and the top of the head and back, dark pencil color. I have also a beautiful rose-tree, which cousin William gave me the other day. When he gave it to me it had one rose in bloom, and two buds. The two buds have blown out since. I have covered the flower-pot with moss, which makes it look very pretty. And mother is going to try to find me a saucer, and I am going to cover it with moss too, so that it may be like the flower -pot. When your sister Mary was here, she learned me how to make a grotto ; such as she had once seen at the fair. We covered it over with moss and shells, so that it looked very pretty. In the inside of it, I put two little hummingbird's nests, which I had given me. In one of the nests I put a little glass bird. After Mary had gpne, I made another grotto, with two arches, and put a little glass dog and a little deer in it, and sent it to Mrs. A. I sent it to her because she had sent me so many beautiful flowers. And the day after I sent it, she sent me a beautiful note, with a bunch of flowers.

I have been reading "Hall's Voyages," and " Sequel to Frank," which I never read before, and I like them both very much. Every evening, when mother is at leisure, she reads to me in "Bertha's Visit." I have been moved into mother's room, because she thought I should take cold, as the east wind blew in at that window. My bed has been moved close up to mother's ; but it is away from the window, where I cannot look out. I like the change very well; but I had rather be by the window, where I can look out and see all the people, and the vessels sailing up and down the river.

I have been here eight months, and am very well, and have got only four more months to be here. I have school every morning and afternoon, as I used to do. Joanna R. and little Eliza come to school to Mary, and I think it is a great deal pleasanter having a school with them than having it all alone. Cousin Susan goes to the academy now, and when school is done in the afternoon, and she comes home, just before tea, we play backgammon till tea-time ; and sometimes she comes up after tea, and we play a little then. I think my leg is a great deal better, for I can move it a good deal, and it does not hurt me. Good-by.

Your friend, Robert Swain.

MEMOIR.

TO THE SAME. dear SOPHIA, New Bedford, Jan. 12th, 1833.

I received your letter last evening, and am very glad to have one, for I believe you have not written to me for more than two months. I have got the hooping cough, and do not feel very well. I cough almost, every day, and whenever I wake up in the night. My cough does not hurt my leg, but it weakens my eyes, so that I have to have the room very dark. Mary has been making a shade for them to-day. I do not do much of anything all day but cough. I can't read, though I want to very much ; for cousin Edward has lent me some books, which I expect are very interesting. But mother reads them to me whenever she is at leisure. I forget whether I told you in my last letter that father went to Washington on some business nearly two months ago, and was gone about a month. When he came home, he brought me a basket of oranges, and mother a beautiful gold watch.

I have been making a grotto for a Christmas present to cousin Mary. It is nearly as large as the one your sister Mary and I made, and is a very pretty one, only the door is rather too small.

I have also been making some book-marks, for Christmas and New Year's presents. I have given them all away now. I have been making a bead safety-chain, to give father on his birth-day ; but I am afraid I shall need some help about it, for I can't work on it now. It is made of black cut beads, and looks like black ribbon, only it glistens.

One beautiful day, about two weeks ago, I was reading " Stories about Boston," a book grandma gave me for a new year's present, when father came up here, and asked me if I should like to go down stairs ; I told him yes. So he took me up in his arms, and carried me down in the parlor, and laid me on the sofa. You don't know how queer the things did look. The room seemed very large, for I had not been down there for ten months. Mary's plants looked very pretty. They were set up on green benches by the window, so that they might have the sun. A geranium of mother's, which bears beautiful flowers, had grown nearly two feet since I saw it last.

Good-by.

Robert Swain.

TO THE SAME. dear sophiAj New Bedford, Feb. 3, 1833.

My cough is nearly well, and I can bear a good deal of light. I can read and use my eyes as much as I want to. I have a school every morning now, which takes up almost all the morning. My leg hurts me every time I cough, and father says he thinks it will put me back two months, so I shall have to lay here till the last of May.

I have been making some kaleidoscopes. One of them I gave away, and the other I was going to send to you, but I have broken it ; and so I can't send it. I shall send you a book-mark, the first I have made since I could use my eyes. The other book-mark I want you to give to Mary, if she stays with you still.

Wednesday. — The kaleidoscope which I send to you, is one father gave me. He got it made down street, and I think it is prettier than any one I could make. I do not cough but very little, not more than once or twice all night. All those months last summer, during which I did not write you any, in the warm summer afternoons father used to put me on a little bed which he had made for me, and moved me on the piazza, where I could see the whole town, and the river, till it emptied into the bay, and almost all the bay; part of it though was taken off by a house. I could see the sky, and the point covered with woods, and all the vessels that sailed up and down the river, which was covered almost every pleasant day with little boats. I remember of being out there the fourth of July, and staying there till sunset, when we heard the guns fire. While I was there I saw the truckmen pass with their white frocks, and ribbons on their horses' heads. They were all on horseback, and the two men who went first, had horns or bugles, which every little while they blew. I used to stay out there to tea, and come back again, as soon as I had done. I came in my window, which opens down to the floor. In the fall, one of the boys made me a kite, and, when the wind was westerly, one of them used to get it up for me, and throw the ball of twine upon the piazza, and then come up and hand it to me. So I used to fly kites. 1 7d keep it up, till it was getting late, and then I would wind it in.

I have been transferring pictures. Mary helped me some, and. we succeeded very well.

Good-by.

TO THE SAME. dear sophia, March 6, 1833.

Father is going to Salem to-morrow morning, and I shall send my letter by him. I have got entirely well of my hooping cough, though my leg is not as well as it was before I had it. E. P. sent me a perspective glass, which is very pretty. The windows in the pictures are cut out, and underneath them is placed gold leaf, which makes them look as if they were illuminated in the evening; and in the daytime as if the sun was shining on them, as it sometimes does near sunset.

Little Cornelia, Eliza's sister, has been in to see me this afternoon, and has just gone away. She gave me a magic lantern, which we had out this evening, and it was very pretty. It made the queerest figures on the wall that ever were seen — men with long noses, and horses and carts, and carriages and cows, running along after each other; and they would have looked like real things if they had been large.

I am very much obliged to you for the picture you sent me, and we all think it is quite pretty. We have put it in the other room till it is dry ; for when the room is swept in the morning, it would get dusty.

Yesterday the carpet was changed, and I was moved into the little room for an hour or two, and I thought everything looked beautiful outdoors, though it was winter. I have not been to the window before, since I was moved into this room. The river looked beautifully, for it was partly frozen over and partly bright blue water.

I am making a chain for mother, with black and gold beads. I am going to put this motto, " To my Mother," on it, in gold letters.

It is most time for to go to sleep now; so

good-by.

Your friend,

Robert Swain.

In the spring Robert had so far recovered from his lameness, as to sit up a part of the day in a chair constructed on wheels, for the purpose of enabling him to move about the room ; and after a while he began to walk on crutches. But it was not till the month of June, sixteen months after he was first confined to his bed, that he was permitted to go out of doors.

In the beginning of August the family removed to the island of Naushon. But still

Robert was obliged to lie on his bed a part of each day until the close of the season, when he was able to walk out and ride a little about the island. In the beautiful autumnal days, he rode out with his father, for the first time, through those woods and amid those quiet scenes, which he learned to love so well. But the cold weather again brought back his disease in a new form, and he was confined to his bed the greater part of the two succeeding winters with abscesses, which were exceedingly painful, and at one time he was so very ill, that almost all hopes of his recovery were given up.

But again he was restored to his friends, and again the family removed to their island home, where, for two successive summers, he gradually improved in strength and health. His time was partly occupied in study, which he attended to regularly with one of his cousins; and in his play-hours he found enough of healthy amusement in boating, fishing, walking, and riding. ,

His leisure time out of doors was spent mostly in a boat which his father had given him., and which he kept in order, and managed entirely by himself. He would often spend the whole afternoon in the harbor at Naushon, alone with his boat and fishing gear, or perhaps sailing little boats, which he had been modelling and rigging with his own hands, and in which he showed no small amount of mechanical skill. In this way he learned to take care of himself; and being so much alone, with the water below, the sky above, and the green fields and woods around, he formed habits of meditation, and acquired a love of nature, which could not but have a salutary influence on his character and his health. He liked to have some one of his own age with him, but was never at a loss for something to do. With his boat in fair weather and his work-bench when it rained, together with his lessons, which occupied a small portion of each day, and in which he engaged with the same zeal as in his plays, he had always enough on his hands. In the island, indeed, was found that rare combination of land and water, sunshine and shade, retirement and society, which most happily furnish mind and body with their various and appropriate culture. These influences sank early and deep into his nature ; and as no spot could perform a higher office, so none could be endeared to him by more delightful associations.

Chapter II. Santa Cruz

In the autumn of 1835, Robert went with his father and mother, to spend the winter at Santa Cruz. There are no letters or journals of his, to tell how much he enjoyed and how much he was delighted with all the new and wonderful things which he saw in this " Island of Beauty," where there is so much to delight the eye, and give pleasure to every sense. It is a perfect paradise for children ; and it seemed a happy compensation to Robert for the privations of the three preceding winters.

But though we have no record of this winter, yet the next year, when he went there again with his father, he kept a daily journal, from which are copied the following extracts.

Thursday, 9th of Feb., 1837. Here we are on board the ship Whitmore, with a fine northwester. The ship George Washington has gone out just ahead of us, and there are several

B vessels starting with us. Four o'clock. We are going straight for Santa Cruz. We had a fine sail out j past Governor's Island, the George Washington ahead of us, all the way. It was a beautiful sight for any one who likes to see vessels. When the pilot left us off Sandy Hook, there were three ships and two brigs, besides our own vessel, all lying to, for a pilot boat, at one time. Then the little pilot boats, sailing swiftly about from one ship to the other, taking out the pilots. I think I never saw a prettier sight. But I cannot write any more now, for I begin to feel sick.

Wednesday, 15th. This is the first day that I have felt well enough to write, since we left New York, and I will write down as much of what has happened in the mean time, as I can remember.

The day we left, we went on very well. The wind continued fair, and plenty of it. I was sick all day. Nothing occurred of any consequence that I can remember, except once, when uncle M. was putting on some fresh boots, we shipped a sea, and one or two buckets full of water came down through the skylight, which was not perfectly tight, and filled his boots with salt water. That was not the worst mischief it did ; for the stewardess was standing directly under it, and she got wet to the skin. She was standing very quietly, talking, and the first thing she knew, down came the water upon her. She jumped, but not the right way, and before she could jump again, she was wet through.

Sunday, 12th. I don't remember that anything happened that day till 12 o'clock at night, when we had a heavy squall. I awoke about that time, and, if it had not been so late, father said, he would have gone on deck. Uncle M. was up, and he came and reported how things were going on, every little while. Once, when it blew the hardest, he came down and said we had carried away our foretopsail. It was the very height of the squall. The captain gave the orders, " Hard up your helm, and wear ship, and scud before the wind.;; The helm was hard up, but the ship did not pay off at all. It was then that the sail was carried away; not the foretopsail, as uncle thought, but a staysail, that was of no consequence. Luckily, the ship payed off then; for if she had hung so, with her lee side all under water, much longer, something must have been carried away — her masts or some of her sails. However, the squall, like most squalls in these latitudes, did not last long, and, in a little while, we resumed our course. It blew hard all the next day, and by his observations the captain judged, that at 4 o'clock, we should be opposite the large reef that extends fifteen miles from the west end of Bermuda.

We continued to stand on until six o'clock, when the wind blew a gale. The captain feared it would blow still harder, so that we could carry no sail at all, and then we should be caught with Bermuda under our lee, and undoubtedly be driven on shore ; so we wore ship and stood directly back again. For three hours we kept on : and they were three anxious hours to some of us — to those who knew how near Bermuda we were. I lay in my berth through the whole of it. If it had been in the day time, I should have gone on deck; but I could hear almost all that was going on where I was. The wind did blow tremendously, and every little while, it would whistle through the rigging, and make a loud roaring sound, like the surf rolling on a beach. It came in little squalls. I could always tell when one was coming ; for the captain would call out, " Mind your weather helm " ; and then there would be a rushing sound, " Hard up, hard up, I say ;" and in a minute, the sea would strike us, and the ship would quiver and shake from head to stern. Several times I thought she had struck ; and often the water would come pouring down the cabin skylight, Avhich was not perfectly tight, and drench whoever happened to be under it. I often thought of Paddy, when the captain called out, as he did, every few mintes, "How do you head ? How do you head now ? " — and I heard the answer, "Northeast, sir," — "Northeast by east, sir." We were steering Paddy's northeast course, and all I hoped, was that Bermuda would not get in our way. If we had gone on shore then, we should have all been lost. No boat could have lived in such a sea ; and the island was fifteen miles off from the end of the reef. Only think ! what an awful responsibility rests upon the captain of a ship ; more than they often know, or think about, themselves. We stood on our northeast all night, till we had passed Bermuda ; and then we tacked, and stood south, by the east end of it. I, and a good many others, beside, were glad enough, when we were safely past Bermuda.

A gale of wind at sea, was just what I have been wishing for. But when it comes in the night, with a lee shore but a few miles off, it is not such an agreeable matter ; particularly when, if we get on the reef, there is not one chance in ten, of any of us being saved.

Friday, 17th. The wind is directly ahead to-day, but it is very pleasant. The sun is out bright, and we go along finely ; although it is not towards Santa Cruz. It seems quite like old times. The water is that deep, transparent blue that is only found in the tropics. The air is soft and warm, and everything looks so pleasant that one cannot help feeling glad and happy. Fred and I have been playing, or skylarking, as the sailors call it, all the morning. We got my bows and arrows out of the cabin, and had some fun with them. We have fed the ducks and geese with corn and water, and now, Fred is reading, and I am trying to write. We have hired a place in the bows of the longboat, between the horses and the cow, ducks and pigs, where we sit and talk, and have fun. It is a fine place ; for we can see everything that is going on, and whistle and do what we please. The captain let us (that is, Fred and I,) have it quite cheap; we only pay a shilling a week, and nobody has a right to come there but ourselves.

Sunday, 19th. The wind was ahead all day yesterday, as it is to-day, also. The captain says we are three hundred miles to the eastward of Santa Cruz. I do wish the wind would come fair. Eight o'clock. The wind is northwest, at last. About two hours ago, we had a squall, and the wind came round. Now we are going on finely, with a smashing wind, nine knots. A little while ago, the second Stewart, coming down stairs, with a platter of roast-beef for dinner, let it slip off the dish, and down it came, thump, thump, thump, against all the stairs, till it got to the bottom. How the ship rolls ! A minute ago, the barrel of empty bottles fell over, and my candle fell into the salt-cellar, that, together with chickens, &c, is set on the table for the mates' tea.