The American Encyclopedia of History, Biography and Travel Comprising Ancient and Modern History: the Biography of Eminent Men of Europe and America, and the Lives of Distinguished Travelers. (part 4 of 7)
The British government made great preparations for the campaign of 1757. A large force was destined for the reduction of Louisburg; but the indecision and incapacity of Lord Loudon, the commander-in-chief, caused the expedition to be abandoned. Meantime, Montcalm, the French commander, besieged and took Fort William Henry, on Lake George, after a most spirited defense by Colonel Munroe. The English troops, after being admitted to honorable capitulation, were treacherously massacred by the Indians attached to Montcalm’s army.
The campaign of 1758 was more prosperous. Lord Chatham had now become prime minister, and infused new energy into the prosecution of the war. In answer to a call made by him upon the colonies, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New Hampshire, united and raised fifteen thousand men. The tide of success now turned in favor of the English. Three expeditions had been planned: one against Louisburg, another against Ticonderoga, and the third against Fort du Quesne on the Ohio. Louisburg was taken, with great loss to the French in prisoners, ships, and munitions of war. Fort du Quesne was abandoned by the French, taken possession of by the English, and named Pittsburgh. The expedition against Ticonderoga failed, but the failure was compensated by the capture of Fort Frontinac, an important fortress at the outlet of Lake Ontario.
The campaign of 1759 commenced with a nearly simultaneous attack upon all the French strongholds in Canada, namely, Ticonderoga, Crown Point, Niagara, and Quebec. One division of the army, under General Amherst, the commander-in-chief, proceeded against Ticonderoga and Crown Point, which were successively taken. Another division, under General Prideaux, advanced and took Niagara. General Wolfe was no less successful in the great enterprise of conquering Quebec. The French, under Montcalm, were defeated on the plains of Abraham, and Quebec fell into the hands of the British. General Wolfe died upon the field of battle.
In 1760, the French made an unsucessful attempt to recover Quebec. In less than a year from the capture of that city, Montreal, Detroit, and all other places in the possession of the French, were surrendered to the British, and the conquest of Canada was completed.
By the treaty of peace definitively concluded at Paris in 1763, Nova Scotia, Canada, Cape Breton, and all other islands in the gulf and river St. Lawrence, were ceded to the British crown.
The protracted contest with the French and the Indians being brought to a close by the complete triumph of the English, the American Colonies were seemingly in the full tide of prosperity. The great exertions they had made during the last war had taught them the secret of their strength; that war had cost them, it was computed, about 30,000 lives and over sixteen millions of dollars, of which only five millions were repaid by the British ministry. Immigration rapidly increased, and the vast forest in the interior began to be explored by those who were in search of a new home. The Delaware and Hudson rivers were crossed by a thronging multitude, the Alleghanies were surmounted, and white settlements were formed upon the upper tributaries of the Ohio. No longer hemmed in, as with a ring of iron, by the French and the savages, the internal principle of expansion, which has been at work ever since, received its first free development, and carried the limits of civilization every year farther west. Trade flourished on the sea-coast; Boston had long been distinguished for enterprising traffic, and Newport, New York, Philadelphia, and Baltimore were rising rapidly in commercial importance. Printing presses and newspapers, schools and colleges, flourished, though the literature of the Colonies as yet existed only in the humble form of sermons. Yet the metaphysical writings of Jonathan Edwards slowly acquired a European reputation, and the fame of Dr. Franklin was carried, by his brilliant discoveries in electricity, to the bounds of the civilized world.
THE WAR OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE.
But the prosperity of America was now to receive a sudden check, and a contest to begin, more important to her and more momentous in its consequences, than any which the world had ever witnessed. England was oppressed by a heavy debt, which had been more than doubled by the heavy expenses of the late war, and the people were overburdened with taxes. In an evil hour, it occurred to the Chancellor of the Exchequer that this pressure might be lightened, if the American Colonies could be made to contribute to the general expenses of the empire.
Mr. Grenville introduced into parliament his bill for imposing a stamp tax on the American Colonies, and it became a law with little opposition February 6th, 1765. Stamped papers, upon which a considerable impost was to be paid, were required for all judicial proceedings, clearances at the custom-house, bills of lading, and even the diplomas granted by seminaries of learning. The law was not to take effect for about seven or eight months after its passage. The news that the bill had become a law arrived in Boston early in April; and the effect was as if a cannon had been fired so near the ears of the people that they were all stunned by the explosion. They seemed stupefied at first; there was no popular outbreak, no meeting for the passage of violent resolutions. But it was the lull which precedes, and not that which follows, the tempest. The legislative body assembled in May, and they immediately resolved that the other Colnies should be invited to unite with them in sending delegates to a Congress, to be held in New York in October, to consult together on the present state of affairs and the recent acts of parliament. This was a significant intimation that the Colonies were at last aware of the strength and firmness which they might acquire by concert and union.
Delegates from nine of the colonies assembled at the Congress in New York, and assurances were received from two other Colonies that they would acquiesce in the result. The proceedings of this Congress were singularly moderate, considering the excited temper of the people. They only published a declaration of the Rights and Grievances of the Colonies, and addressed a petition to the king, and memorials to the two houses of parliament; and the tone of these documents, though firm, was mild, argumentative, and respectful. They claimed all the privileges of British subjects, and especially that of not being taxed without their own consent. When these papers were signed, the Congress was dissolved, after a session of little more than a fortnight. The chief advantage derived from it was, that it made the patriot leaders from the different Colonies acquainted with each other, and enabled them to give assurances of mutual support. November came, but the stamps were nowhere used and the business even of the courts of justice, after a short suspension, was resumed. The act was practically nullified, with the assent, either free or enforced, of the judges and the governors.
The cause of the Colonies, which they pleaded with much earnestness and ability, soon found sympathy in the whole of Europe; and in England itself, it was embraced by a powerful party, which opposed the measures of government both in speech and writing. At the head of this opposition stood the great statesman and orator, the elder William Pitt, afterwards Earl of Chatham; and he was actively supported by Conway, Col. Barrè, and Lord Camden, afterwards Lord Chancellor, and next to Lord Mansfield, the highest legal authority in the realm. This powerful opposition produced a change of ministry in July, 1765, and, after a vehement debate, after Dr. Franklin had undergone a memorable examination before the House of Commons, in which he declared that the Act could never be enforced, the Stamp Act was repealed. But a bill was passed at the same time, March, 1766, declaratory of the power and right of parliament to bind America in all cases whatsoever. In the Colonies, the news of the repeal was received with great rejoicing, the accompanying act being justly regarded as a mere contrivance to save the honor of government. Lord Camden, indeed, in the House of Lords, had strenously opposed the declaratory bill as ‘absolutely illegal.’ ‘Taxation and representation,’ he declared, ‘are inseparably united; God hath joined them, and no British parliament can put them asunder.’ Indemnity was demanded from the Colonies for those officers of the crown who had suffered from the late riots; and both New York and Massachusetts granted them full compensation.
But the joy of the Americans was of short duration, for in little more than a year, another act was passed by parliament, imposing duties on all tea, paper, glass, paints, and lead, that should be imported into the Colonies. This was an avowed attempt to raise a revenue, though, in form, the bill was like other acts for regulating trade; and it was hoped that, on this account, it would escape censure. But the principle first advanced by James Otis was now generally adopted by the Colonists, that revenue bills under the form of regulations of trade violated their rights quite as much as direct taxation. Thus the flame of opposition was kindled anew, and raged as hotly as ever. Non-importation was an obvious and legal means of escaping these taxes; and extensive combinations were therefore formed to refrain from the use, not only of the taxed articles, but, as far as possible, of all other British commodities. Able leaders and defenders of the popular causes were not wanting. Besides James Otis, there were the two Adamses (Samuel and John) and John Hancock in Massachusetts, John Dickenson in Pennsylvania, (the author of the celebrated ‘Farmer’s Letters,’ an able plea for Colonial rights,) Patrick Henry, and R. H. Lee in Virginia, and Gadsden and Rutledge in South Carolina, besides Dr. Franklin, whose reputation and abilities were of great weight in London, where he resided for many years as agent of several of the Colonies.
The war of pamphlets, newspapers, and speeches, the sharp controversies between colonial assemblies and royal governors, and occasional outbreaks of popular violence, continued for four or five years, till the Americans were well nigh weaned from their old affection for the land of their forefathers, and had ceased to glory in the British name. Boston was the head quarters of opposition to the policy of the English ministers, and several regiments of British troops were accordingly sent thither to dragoon the inhabitants into submission. But this measure served only to increase the irritation, and to make the breach irreparable. An affray took place March 5, 1770, between the mob and the soldiers, in which the latter fired, and killed three of their unarmed assailants, besides dangerously wounding five others. It was late in the evening; the alarm bells rang, the citizens rushed into the streets, and an open battle between the people and the troops was with difficulty prevented. The next day, the irritation of the people was so strongly manifested in a town meeting, that the governor and the military commander consented to remove the troops to an island in the harbor, and quiet was restored. The soldiers who had fired, with their officer, were brought to trial for murder; but Adams and Quincy, two of the most distinguished advocates of popular rights, nobly consented to act as their legal defenders, and made out so clear a case for them, that they had acted under strong provocation, that the jury acquitted them of murder, and only two were convicted of manslaughter, and slightly punished. Yet the story of ‘the Boston Massacre,’ as it was called, served long to inflame the passions of the multitude against their British oppressors.
As yet, no revenue had been received from the duty on tea, because the Americans would not import any of that commodity, the little which they consumed being obtained by smuggling. But the contest was brought to a crisis in 1773, by the East India Company, which, instigated by the English ministry, sent several cargoes of tea to the Colonies, supposing with good reason that it would be purchased if it could only be landed and offered for sale. But the patriots were on the alert, and immediately formed combinations to prevent the landing of the tea, and to force the consignees to send it back. In New York and Philadelphia, popular vengeance was denounced against any persons who should receive the article, and even against the pilots if they should guide the ships into the harbor; and the vessels were thus obliged to return to England, without even effecting an entry at the custom-house. At Charleston the tea was landed and stored in damp cellars, where it was quickly spoiled. At Boston, governor Hutchinson and admiral Montague succeeded in preventing the vessels from leaving the harbor, in spite of the menaces of the inhabitants; whereupon, about fifty persons disguised themselves as Mohawk Indians, boarded the ships at the wharf, and in the presence of a great crowd of people, drew up the chests of tea from the holds, and emptied their contents into the water. When the news of this act arrived in England, the indignant ministry resolved to punish the contumacious Bostonians, and for this purpose, introduced three bills into parliament, March, 1774, one of which shut up the port of Boston, and removed the custom-house to Salem; another virtually abrogated the charter of Massachusetts, by giving to the crown or to the governor the appointment of the Council and of all officers, and even the selection of juries, and by prohibiting town meetings from being held without the governor’s consent; and a third provided that persons accused of murder might be sent to England for trial. These bills were strenuously opposed by Fox, Burke, Barré, and Dunning, but were carried by majorities of more than four to one. Another law provided for the quartering of troops in America. Four more regiments were sent to Boston, so that the town was now strongly garrisoned; and Gen. Gage being appointed governor, in place of Hutchinson, the people of the province were virtually placed under military law. The Quebec Act, passed at the same session, for the purpose of preventing Canada from taking part with the other Colonies, extended the boundaries of that province to the Ohio and the Mississippi, established the old French law in all judicial proceedings, and secured to the Catholic Church there the enjoyment of all its lands and revenues. A short time before, as if the feelings of the people of Massachusetts had not been sufficiently irritated, their agent in London, Dr. Franklin, was made the object of an indecent and scurrilous invective before the Privy Council by the Solicitor General, Wedderburn, the avowed intention being to insult him and his constituents. He was charged with having transmitted to Massachusetts certain letters, written by some officers of the crown in that province, on public subjects, to their friends in office in England, which letters had been given to Franklin by some person who had obtained them by stratagem or unfair means. But before making this charge, the ministers themselves had repeatedly intercepted the letters of Franklin and other Colonial agents, and read them.
The passage of the Boston Port Bill was the virtual commencement of the American Revolution, though a collision with arms did not take place till another year had elapsed. The agreements to import no more British goods, and to abstain from the consumption of them, were renewed with greater solemnity and strictness than before. Another general Congress was called by Massachusetts, to meet at Philadelphia in September; and committees of correspondence were instituted, to render the action of the different Colonies harmonious, and to keep them advised of each other’s proceedings. Closing the harbor had deprived the people of Boston of their usual means of livelihood; but Salem and Marblehead generously tendered them the use of their wharves, and subscriptions for the more indigent were obtained all over the country. The Congress met at the appointed time and place, and twelve Colonies were represented in it, only Georgia sending no delegates. Among the members were the two Adamses from Massachusetts, and Washington and Patrick Henry from Virginia. Memorials and addresses were sent forth, as by the former assembly; and the tone of these papers was naturally firmer and more decisive than on the former occasion, though it was still moderate. A dignified and eloquent Address to the people of Great Britain, written by Mr. Jay, was much admired. The Declaration of Colonial Rights was precise and comprehensive, and it included a protest against the employment of a standing army in the Colonies without their consent. Professions were made of perfect loyalty to the king, and of great solicitude for the restoration of former harmony with Great Britain; and, from a majority of the delegates, these professions were undoubtedly sincere. After a session of eight weeks, the delegates separated, having first recommended that another Congress should meet in the ensuing May, if the difficulties with England were not previously adjusted.
In Massachusetts, hostilities seemed to be on the point of breaking out. Governor Gage prorogued the General Court before it had come together; but the members met at Salem, in spite of the prorogation, organized themselves into a provincial congress, chose John Hancock for their president, and proceeded to business. In an address to the governor, they protested against the presence of British troops, and the erection of the fortifications in Boston. They appointed a committee of safety, to make measures for the defense of the province, and another committee to obtain provisions and military stores. They forbade the payment of any more money to the late treasurer, and ordered all taxes to be collected by an officer whom they had appointed. Three generals were commissioned by them, to take the command of the militia, who were organized and disciplined with much diligence. Gage issued counter orders and proclamations, but no one out of the range of his soldiers’ muskets listened to them. His power was limited to Boston, which he held by a considerable military force, and had carefully fortified; but the people throughout Massachusetts rendered strict and cheerful obedience to the provincial congress. Later in the year, 12,000 ‘minute men’ were enrolled, being volunteers from the militia, who pledged themselves to be ready for service at a minute’s notice. Minute men were also enrolled in the other New England colonies, where, also, measures were taken to procure artillery and military stores.
The Port Bill went into operation in June, 1774, and the battle of Lexington was not fought till the following April. During the intervening months, the attitude of the whole people was calm and watchful; they did not collect together in large bodies, they made no menacing demonstrations, but waited patiently till their opponents should commit the first overt act of hostility.
It was the firing of the king’s troops on Lexington common April 19th, 1775, which rang the alarm bell of the revolution, and the hitherto seemingly quiescent Colony burst at once into a flame. This event took place at four o’clock in the morning; and before noon, the hills and roads were alive with ‘minute men,’ hurrying from all quarters to the scene of conflict. General Gage had sent out Colonel Smith, the night before, with 800 men, to destroy some military stores which the patriots had collected at Concord. On arriving at Lexington, Colonel Smith found a company of ‘minute men’ collected on the common, who were ordered to disperse, and almost at the same moment were fired upon by the British, who killed or wounded eighteen of them. A few shots were fired in return, and the king’s troops then passed on to Concord, where they destroyed a few stores, were attacked by the provincials, and commenced their retreat to Boston about noon. But the minute men were now rapidly coming up from the neighboring towns, and each company, as it arrived, without waiting for orders, or stopping to concert action with those already on the field, took the best position it could find for annoying the enemy, and opened its fire. The woods and stone walls on each side of the road were lined with sharp shooters, who availed themselves of every advantage of the ground as skillfully as if they had been directed by an able general. When the British, on their retreat, had reached Lexington, they were met by a reinforcement of 1,200 men, without which they would probably have been cut off. But as soon as they resumed their march, they were again attacked, and the affair continued as it had begun, each company of the rustic soldiery finding its own station and fighting on its own hook. The action ended only when the harassed king’s troops reached Charlestown, where they found safety under the guns of their shipping. They lost about 270 in killed, wounded, and missing, while the American loss was but 93.
The manner in which this battle was fought was a type of the whole contest in New England, from the time when the tea was destroyed till Boston was evacuated. It is the most striking, perhaps the only complete, instance which all history affords, of the whole population of a country, self-moved, and self-governed, acting together with great unanimity and vigor, yet acting patiently, prudently, and with even a punctilious regard for the laws, while their excitement was intense, and while they were bravely defying a powerful empire, and setting at nought an authority, which, when exercised within the bounds of justice, they and their fathers had always implicitly, and even lovingly, recognized. The first action of the Massachusetts Provincial Congress, after the battle of Lexington, was characteristic of the men and the times. They appointed a committee to take the depositions of those who were present, in order to prove that the British fired first. If they had been conducting a lawsuit about the title to a farm, they could not have been more anxious to collect testimony, and show that ‘the law’ was on their side. Most of the resolutions which they passed at this period, were accompanied by formidable preambles, in which the justice and legality of the measure proposed were demonstrated at length, though often with more earnestness than logic. The time for action had now arrived, and it soon appeared that the spirit which the people had shown at Lexington was no transient feeling. Within a few days, an army of about 16,000 men had come together, and the siege of Boston was begun. This, again, was a spontaneous and unconcerted movement; they assembled before preparations were made for them, before a commander-in-chief had been appointed, or any plan of action formed. Rhode Island and Connecticut retained the control of their own troops, and the care of providing them with arms and sustenance, merely instructing them to cooperate with the Massachusetts army. But for the excellent spirit of the men, the army would have been merely an armed mob. But the ranks were filled with steady farmers and mechanics, who were brought thither by their attachment to the cause, and who needed little discipline to keep them in order.
Ammunition and artillery were yet wanting, though great exertions had been made to obtain military stores. But this want was partially supplied by an enterprise of the ‘Green Mountain Boys,’ as the inhabitants of the country which is now the State of Vermont were then called. It was known that the fortresses of Ticonderoga and Crown Point had but slender garrisons and were imperfectly guarded. Ethan Allen and Seth Warner, who commanded some armed volunteers in that region, undertook upon their own responsibility to take these forts by surprise, and they succeeded, May, 1775. Two hundred pieces of artillery and a considerable supply of powder were thus obtained for the camp near Boston. The British army at that place had been reinforced, and now amounted to 10,000 men, under Generals Howe, Clinton, and Burgoyne. To straiten their quarters, Col. Prescott was sent, with about a thousand men from the American army, to throw up an entrenchment on Bunker’s Hill in Charlestown. A small redoubt was constructed there in the night time, on which, as soon as it was discovered in the morning, the English ships in the harbor opened their fire, June 17. This produced but little effect; and the reinforcements sent to Prescott during the forenoon enabled him to throw up an imperfect breast-work, and other slight fortifications outside of the redoubt. Generals Putnam, Pomeroy, and Warren joined him at this time, but did not take the command out of his hands. Three thousand men were sent over at noon from Boston, led by Howe and Pigot, to take the hill by assault. They advanced bravely, but the fire of the Americans was so close and well-sustained, that the British wavered, and fell back in great disorder. Gage then ordered the village of Charlestown, which was near the foot of the hill, to be set on fire, and while the flames were raging, the troops again moved forward. Again, as they approached the redoubt, the murderous fire of the Americans, many of whom were practiced marksmen, burst forth, and again the assailants were driven back to the landing place. They formed and advanced a third time, and as the ammunition of the Americans was now nearly spent, they succeeded in getting possession of the hill. But their opponents retired in a body, and were not pursued, though they suffered much from the fire of the shipping in their retreat. The victory of Howe might well be considered a defeat, for he lost over a thousand men in killed and wounded, while the American loss was not half as great. But Gen. Warren was among the slain. The battle was as characteristic as that of Lexington; a Colonel commanded, and three Generals either served under him, or acted independently in directing the troops. The result was very encouraging to the Americans, as it proved that their raw levies were capable of waging a desperate conflict with regular troops.
Congress had again assembled at Philadelphia at the appointed time, May 10, and it began to exercise all the functions of a government, though there was no formal union of the Colonies, and the cheerful acquiescence of the people was the only basis of its authority. But the delegates were not yet prepared for a total rupture with England; they voted to send another petition to the king, and an address to the people of Great Britain, in which they declared that they did not intend to throw off their allegiance, and professed an anxious desire for peace. At the same time, they resolved to put the country in a state of defense, and to complete the organization of an army, George Washington, a delegate from Virginia, was chosen commander-in-chief, the members from New England heartily concurring in his nomination, from their wish to secure the coöperation of the southern Colonies. Ward, Lee, Schuyler, and Putnam were commissioned as major-generals, and ten brigadiers were appointed, among whom were Gates, Green, Montgomery, and Sullivan. Most of these officers had seen service in the French and Indian wars. Bills of credit, or paper money, were issued to the amount of three millions of dollars; a post-office department was organized, and a committee was appointed to secure, if possible, the neutrality of the Indians. Massachusetts asked the advice of Congress, in reference to its form of government; and it was advised to establish a provisional government, that should conform as nearly as possible to the charter. The governors of most of the Colonies had now either abandoned their posts, or were coöperating with the enemies of the country; and the direction of affairs had generally fallen into the hands either of the most numerous representative body under the old organization, or of such an assembly created for the occasion. It may be observed here, by anticipation, that new constitutions of government were established by all the Colonies, except Connecticut and Rhode Island, during the progress of the war. New Hampshire formed such a constitution in 1775; New Jersey, South Carolina, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, and North Carolina, in 1776,――the first three before the Declaration of Independence; Georgia and New York, in 1777; Massachusetts, in 1780. The forms of government thus established were not arbitrary and novel. They supplied omissions, it is true; but they made no unnecessary innovations. They were the old forms of polity, adopted by the first settlers, or created for them by charter, with such modifications only as were rendered necessary by the transition from a state of partial, to one of total, independence. Connecticut and Rhode Island did not find it necessary to make any change; their charters were so liberal that the people, in fact, had always chosen all their own officers, and enacted all their own laws; and under these charters, the government continued to be administered for nearly half a century after the Revolution.
Washington assumed the command of the army before Boston about a fortnight after the battle of Bunker Hill, and immediately endeavored to improve its organization and discipline, and to obtain supplies of arms and military stores. The troops at first consisted entirely of volunteers, and so many of these left and went home after a short stay, that it was feared the camp would be deserted. An attempt was now made to enlist soldiers for definite periods, to form them into regiments, and accustom them to discipline and the use of their arms. The most pressing want was that of powder, of which there was not enough to furnish nine rounds to a man, and the whole supply in the country was so inadequate that active operations could not be undertaken for some months. Attempts were made to establish manufactories of saltpetre and to import powder and lead from the West Indies; and a small supply of military stores was obtained from captured vessels. The patience and firmness of the commander-in-chief were severely taxed by the many discouraging circumstances of his position, at the head of a motley collection of troops, with insufficient means of paying them and of providing many necessaries of war. Reserved and dignified in his demeanor, inflexible in purpose, circumspect and yet enterprising in his plans, industrious and methodical in business, he united the highest qualifications for the elevated post which he was called to fill. His equanimity was seldom ruffled, and no failures or disasters could dishearten him or paralyze his energies. A keen judge of character and qualifications, he was generally fortunate in selecting his agents and giving his confidence. Under his direction, and in spite of the most adverse circumstances, the raw levies were gradually converted into disciplined and effective troops, and the efforts of an enemy greatly superior in means and equipment were successfully foiled.
Congress had projected an expedition against Canada, in the hope of obtaining the sympathy and aid of the French inhabitants of that province, or perhaps of inducing them to unite with the other Colonies in resistance to the British ministry. In August, 1775, Schuyler and Montgomery, at the head of a small body of troops, advanced by way of Lake Champlain against Montreal, whilst Arnold, with about a thousand men, was detached from the camp before Boston, to ascend the Kennebeck river, and then make his way through the wilderness to the banks of the St. Lawrence opposite Quebec. Schuyler being prevented by illness from advancing farther than St. John’s on the Sorel, the command devolved on Montgomery, who, after a few weeks’ siege, captured St. John’s, and then advanced against Montreal, which was surrendered to him without resistance. Arnold’s troops, after suffering great hardships from exposure and want of food while passing through a wild and uninhabited region, reached the southern bank of the St. Lawrence, December 1st, where they were joined by Montgomery, who came down the river to meet them. Their united forces hardly exceeded a thousand men, while Carleton, the British commander, by landing the sailors and organizing the citizens into military companies, had garrisoned Quebec with 1,200. The artillery of the Americans not being sufficient to make any impression on the works, they resolved to attempt to carry the place by assault. Under cover of a snow-storm, December 31, the men advanced to the attack with great gallantry, and forced their way into the lower town; but Montgomery was killed, Arnold’s leg was broken by a musket ball, and after some desperate fighting, the party in the streets found themselves surrounded and were obliged to surrender. Arnold, with about 600 men, retreated a few miles up the river, and there kept up the blockade of Quebec through the winter. Reinforcements were sent to him; but after the spring opened, a large body of British troops arrived at Quebec and the Americans were forced to retire, first to Montreal, and afterwards to St. John’s.
Howe’s army in Boston, having learned caution from the battle of Bunker Hill, made no attempt at offensive operations during the autumn and winter; and the want of cannon and powder in the American camp prevented Washington from attacking them. But through the great exertion of Colonel Knox, over fifty pieces of artillery were dragged on sleds, over the frozen lake and the snow, from Crown Point and Ticonderoga; and active measures were then adopted to drive the British out of the place. On the evening of the 4th of March, the attention of the enemy being drawn by a brisk cannonade to the opposite quarter, a large body of troops secretly took possession of Dorchester heights, and erected a line of fortifications there which commanded the harbor and the town. The English general made immediate preparation to attack these works; but a furious storm of wind and rain, that prevailed for two days, prevented the troops from crossing in boats to Dorchester, and when this had ceased, the intrenchments seemed too strong to be forced. General Howe consequently resolved to evacuate the town; and on the 17th, the fleet sailed, carrying off the whole army, and about one thousand inhabitants of the place and its vicinity who adhered to the king’s cause. The recovery of Boston caused great rejoicing throughout the country; the thanks of Congress were voted to the general and his army, and a gold medal was ordered to be struck in commemoration of the event. After a delay of a few days, Washington marched with the main body of the army to New York. The Loyalists, or Tories, as the favorers of the British cause were called, were numerous in that place and its neighborhood, and for this reason, among others, it was supposed that Howe would carry his army thither. In reality, the British troops sailed for Halifax, where they remained inactive till the end of June, and then, after receiving large reinforcements, proceeded to New York.
A year had now elapsed since the battle of Lexington; it had been passed in active hostilities, the exasperation of both parties had increased, and there seemed no longer any hope of a reconciliation with England. Lord North’s ministry, supported by the obstinacy of the king and by a large majority in both houses of Parliament, evinced no disposition to change its policy; on the contrary, treaties had been formed with several of the minor powers of Germany, in virtue of which about 17,000 Hessians, Waldeckers, and Hanoverians were collected by crafty recruiting officers, and hired out to England for the purpose of putting down the rebellion in America. Of course, the news that these mercenaries were to be employed greatly increased the irritation of the Colonies. Thomas Paine, a very vigorous writer, published his famous pamphlet, called ‘Common Sense,’ to prove that a final separation from England was inevitable and ought not to be delayed. Written in an eminently popular style, it had an immense circulation, and was of great service in preparing the minds of the people for independence. A proposition to dissolve all connection with Great Britain was first introduced into Congress by Richard Henry Lee, of Virginia and was warmly supported by John Adams and other members from New England. But it was not carried without difficulty; New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and South Carolina hesitated. Indeed, the legislatures of the two former Colonies had expressly instructed their representatives in Congress to vote against it. But the tide of popular opinion now set strongly towards independence, and the waverers were carried along with it, in spite of their efforts. The recusant Colonies recalled their instructions, and on the 4th of July, 1776, the Declaration of Independence, written by Thomas Jefferson, and revised by a committee, of which John Adams and Dr. Franklin were members, was solemnly adopted in Congress by a vote of the whole Thirteen States.
The progress of the contest had been watched with great attention on the Continent of Europe, where the efforts of the Americans were naturally regarded with favor and sympathy, partly out of jealousy of England, but still more by the enthusiasm which a gallant contest for freedom always awakens in the hearts of the people. Among the French, particularly, this feeling was very strong, as the success of the patriots would humiliate and weaken the haughty rival that had recently triumphed over France, and deprived her of nearly all her colonial dominion. Congress had previously appointed a ‘Committee of Secret Correspondence,’ to keep up intercourse with the friends of the cause in various parts of Europe; and now that the United States had become an independent power, it seemed proper to extend this intercourse, and to establish diplomatic relations with other governments. Three commissioners, of whom Dr. Franklin was one, were sent to Paris, and Arthur Lee was deputed by them to visit Prussia and Spain. These agents were not formally received at court, for no European power was yet prepared for war with England. But the French ministers treated them with much courtesy, and agreed to furnish the Americans with secret supplies of money, arms, and military stores, to a considerable amount. Many shipments were consequently made, and the aid thus received was very seasonable. The appearance of Dr. Franklin, with his high reputation as a philosopher, his plain garb, and agreeable manners, as an envoy from the combatants for freedom in the New World, created a great sensation among the excitable people of Paris. Honors and attentions of all kinds were lavished upon him. ‘Men imagined,’ says Lacretelle, ‘that they saw in him a sage of antiquity, come back to give austere lessons and generous examples to the moderns. They personified in him the republic of which he was the representative and legislator.’ The young and wealthy Marquis of Lafayette, inspired with a noble enthusiasm, crossed the ocean to hazard life and property in the cause of American freedom. Some Germans, also, among whom Kalb and Steuben, were best known, and the gallant Pole, Kosciusko, with a number of volunteers from other nations, came to the aid of the Americans.
The campaign of 1776 was very disastrous to the American arms, and but for the surpassing fortitude and magnanimity of their great military leader, it would have been ruinous to the cause. Washington’s army was very weak when it arrived in New York; several regiments had been left behind to garrison Boston, and others were detached to strengthen the northern army, then lying near Montreal. Unfortunately, also, the men had been enlisted for very short periods, owing to the uncertainty how long the war would continue; and now, when their services were most wanted, and they had been trained and disciplined, whole regiments had to be disbanded and sent home, and their places were taken by raw recruits. Frequent drafts were made from the militia, to meet pressing emergencies; but these raw troops could not be depended upon for efficient service.
The Continental troops under Washington at New York did not number more than 8,000, while the British army, which Howe led thither in June, including the German mercenaries, amounted to 24,000. Among them were the troops lately employed against Charleston, South Carolina, where they had attempted to land, but the fleet had been driven off by the heavy fire from the forts. The fortifications at New York did not prove so formidable, as the British vessels passed them without damage, and entered the Hudson river. Howe landed most of his troops on Long Island, where the tories were very numerous, and marched to attack the Americans, who were in an entrenched camp at the western end of the island, opposite New York. A battle followed, in which the British army succeeded in gaining the rear of the Americans by an unguarded road, and totally defeated them, taking over a thousand prisoners. The remainder of the army secretly retreated, on the second night after the battle, from Long Island to New York. Leaving a garrison in the town, Washington placed the body of the troops on Harlem heights, a strong position at the northward. But the garrison was soon obliged with loss to quit New York, as the place was not tenable except by a large force, and even the troops on the heights behaved so ill that a further retreat became necessary. Discouragement was now very general; the militia deserted by companies, and the Continentals, as the regular troops were called, began to follow their example. Washington adopted the only system of warfare which was practicable under these gloomy circumstances; he resolved to risk no general engagement, to encamp only in strong positions, to weary out the enemy by frequent marches, and not to meet them except in skirmishes. A partial action was fought at White Plains, October 28, without any decisive result, and most of the Americans were then withdrawn to the western shore of the Hudson, as an invasion of New Jersey was threatened. A large garrison was left in Fort Washington, on New York island, about ten miles above the city; but the British attacked it before the fortifications were completed, and the commander was obliged to capitulate, giving up the place and stores, and over 2,000 prisoners. The enemy then crossed the Hudson in force, and Washington was obliged to abandon Fort Lee, on the Jersey shore, with a great quantity of baggage and artillery. He then retreated rapidly southward through New Jersey as far as Trenton, where, for safety, the army crossed the Delaware into Pennsylvania. At this gloomy period for the American cause, Sir William Howe issued a proclamation, offering pardon to all who would return to their allegiance within sixty days, and commanding all persons who had taken up arms, and all congresses and associations, to desist from their treasonable proceedings, and give up their usurped authority. Many individuals, among them were two former members of Congress, were weak enough to accept the proposal. As the British army approached Philadelphia, Congress adjourned to Baltimore, having first granted to the commander-in-chief almost dictatorial powers.
Washington perceived that some bold stroke was necessary to revive the spirits of his countrymen. Some reinforcements had joined him, and the English army had gone into winter-quarters, being stationed in detachments in several places in New Jersey. On Christmas night, at the head of 2,500 men, he recrossed the Delaware with great difficulty, as the river was full of floating ice, surprised a body of Hessians in Trenton, took 900 prisoners and then returned to his former position with only a trifling loss. A week afterwards, he reöccupied Trenton with a larger force; but lord Cornwallis came up to meet him with a large portion of the British army, and it appeared too hazardous either to stand an engagement or retreat when the enemy were so near. Washington devised a manœuvre which was completely successful. Leaving the watch-fires burning in the deserted camp, the troops were led by a circuitous route into the rear of the British, and then conducted to Princeton, where they fell unexpectedly upon three regiments that were stationed there, drove them out of the town with great loss, and took 300 prisoners. Cornwallis heard the firing in his rear, and divining the cause, hurried off in pursuit; but before he could overtake the Americans, they were encamped on unassailable ground at Morristown. These exploits taught Sir William Howe to respect an opponent whom he had begun to contemn; and he therefore withdrew his troops from the greater part of New Jersey, and concentrated them round New York. Washington stationed his army at Morristown, Princeton, and in the Highlands on the Hudson; and the next six months were spent in organizing it anew, and reducing it to discipline. The British had taken possession of the southern part of Rhode Island, and had surprised and captured Gen. Lee. On the other hand, privateers and national cruisers had been fitted out in the ports of Massachusetts, and had captured many valuable British ships, which were carried to the West Indies and the harbors of continental Europe, and sold.
The next year, 1777, was the turning point, or critical period of the war. It was checkered by good and evil fortune. It was a period of much financial difficulty and great suffering both by the army and the people; but towards its close, the unexpected and great success of the American arms at the north really decided the fate of the contest, and showed that the attempt of Great Britain to reduce the Colonies by force to their former allegiance was a hopeless undertaking. About the end of May, the American army, now much strengthened by recruits, left its winter quarters, and took a strong position at Middlefield. Howe manœuvred for some time, in the hope of inducing or compelling it to fight a battle on equal ground. But finding that Washington was too cautious to run this hazard, he suddenly embarked his army on board the fleet, and carried it round to the head of Chesapeake Bay, where he landed and began his march for Philadelphia. He was obliged to take this route, as the American fortifications on the Delaware made it too hazardous for the fleet to ascend that river. Anxious to save the city which was the seat of Congress and was regarded in some measure as the capital of the country, Washington marched hurriedly south to intercept him. After passing through Philadelphia, he first attempted to check the progress of the enemy at Brandywine, where a creek, everywhere fordable, guarded the front of the American position. The British passed this stream in two divisions, September 11, at considerable distance from each other; and Washington’s army being thus attacked in front and on the flank, some regiments broke and fled, and the rest were forced to retreat in some disorder. The Americans again offered battle five days afterwards, but a violent storm interrupted the engagement almost as soon as it began. The hope of saving Philadelphia was then abandoned; Congress adjourned to Lancaster, the magazines and public stores were removed, and Howe entered the city on the 25th, leaving the bulk of his army ten miles off, at Germantown. It was a barren conquest; experience was now teaching the British that they could hold no more ground in America than what they actually occupied with their troops; and these were not to be too much scattered, or they were liable to be cut off in detail.
To raise the sinking spirits of his men, Washington planned a surprise of the British army in Germantown. The enterprise seemed successful at first; but the troops got separated from each other, in the darkness of the morning, by the inequalities of the ground, a panic seized upon some, and the whole were then driven to make a disorderly retreat. Rightly deeming that Washington could not soon make another attack after this repulse, Howe resolved to attack the forts on the Delaware, in order to establish communication with his fleet, which had not yet been able to pass up the river. Count Donop, with 1,200 Hessians, assaulted the post at Red Bank, on the Jersey shore, but fell in the attempt, and his men were driven off with great slaughter; and of the ships which assailed Fort Mifflen, on an island in the Delaware, a sixty four was blown up, a frigate was burned, and the others were much injured and compelled to retire. The enemy then erected land-batteries, which kept up so heavy a fire that the fortifications were ruined, and the garrison was withdrawn. Red Bank was also evacuated, and the Delaware was thus opened to the British fleet.
But the most important military operations of this year took place at the North. Gen. Burgoyne received the command in Canada, with a finely appointed army of 10,000 men, and was instructed to force his way down Lake Champlain, and then cross to Albany, and descend the Hudson, to join the British forces in New York. This plan, if executed, would have cut off New England from the other Colonies, and have rendered the subjugatian of the Americans extremely probable. And there was great danger for a time that it would be executed. Burgoyne summoned the Indians to his standard, and easily drove the feeble and disorganized army of St. Clair before him, captured Ticonderoga and Skenesborough, July 6, and prepared to force his way through the wilderness, from the head of the lake to the Hudson. St. Clair had brought a poor remnant of his army to join Schuyler at Fort Edward, on the Hudson; but their united forces did not number 5,000, most of them were militia, and both ammunition and provisions were wanting. The news of the loss of Ticonderoga and the rapid progress of Burgoyne created great consternation; the militia of New England came forward readily, and in considerable numbers, to strengthen the northern army, which also received some detachments from the posts in the Highlands. Schuyler was superseded by Gen. Gates, and under him were placed Arnold, Morgan, Lincoln, and others, who were among the best officers in the army. Burgoyne had succeeded in reaching the Hudson after immense labor and fatigue, but he found that difficulties were now beginning to thicken around him. He sent out a strong detachment of regular troops, Tories, and Indians, to his right, to turn the alarm to the western frontier of New York, and lay siege to Fort Schuyler at the head of the Mohawk. Arnold was sent against him, and the fear of his approach caused so many of the Indians to desert, that St. Leger was compelled to raise the siege and retire so precipitately that most of his stores and baggage fell into the hands of the Americans. Another and stronger detachment was sent out to the left, under Col. Baum, to try the temper of the people and to obtain horses and provisions; this was encountered, at Bennington, by some New Hampshire militia and Green Mountain Boys, under Col. Stark, and totally defeated, most of the German soldiers being taken prisoners. Col. Breyman, who had been sent with 500 men to aid Baum, came up two hours after the battle was fought, was himself attacked by the victorious party, and obliged to make the best retreat he could, with the loss of all his baggage and artillery. Thus both of Burgoyne’s wings were clipped, and he found himself at Saratoga, on the west side of the Hudson, in the heart of a difficult country, short of provisions, and with an enemy constantly increasing in numbers on all sides of him. He first tried an attack upon Gates’ camp, upon Behmus’s Heights, in his front Sept. 19; and the result was a drawn battle, in which he lost 500 men, and gained not a single advantage. A party of Lincoln’s militia had got into his rear, surprised the posts around Lake George, and besieged Ticonderoga, so that his communications were cut off. But he was encouraged to hold out, as a letter reached him from Clinton in New York, saying that the latter was about to make an expedition up the Hudson, which could operate as a diversion, and might reach Albany, so as to place Gates between two fires. The promise was kept, the passes of the Highlands were forced, and the British had proceeded as far north as Esopus, when they learned that they were too late, and found it prudent to return. Burgoyne offered battle again on the 7th of October, and his troops were defeated and driven back into his camp, his entrenchments in one quarter were forced, and a part of his artillery and ammunition were captured. His position was thus rendered untenable, and he secretly drew back in the night to a rising ground in the rear. Thence he retreated, two days afterwards, to Saratoga, and found that the difficulties of the country and the position of the American parties were such that he could go no further. He held out a week longer; and then, his provisions being exhausted and his camp surrounded and hard pressed, he was obliged to capitulate. He had already lost about 4,000 men, and 5,642 others were now surrendered as prisoners of war, all his arms, baggage, and camp equipage also passing into the hands of the victors. The garrison of Ticonderoga, when they heard of this calamity, hastily retreated into Canada, and the Americans again took possession of this renowned fortress.
Two days after the news arrived at Paris of the capture of Burgoyne and the battle of Germantown, the French ministry intimated to Dr. Franklin that they were willing to consider the project of a treaty of alliance with the American States. Two treaties were accordingly framed, Feb. 6, 1778, in one of which France acknowledged the independence of the States, and formed relations of amity and commerce with them; in the other, which was to go into effect if Great Britain should make war upon France, the two contracting parties bound themselves to aid each other as good friends and allies, to maintain the sovereignty and independence of the American States, and not to make a truce or peace except by mutual consent. About the same time, the British ministry caused two laws to be enacted, declaring that no tax should hereafter be imposed by parliament on the Colonies, and appointing commissioners to treat with them on almost any terms short of absolute independence. The concession was ample, but it came too late; Congress refused even to hold a conference with the commissioners before the British armies were withdrawn and the independence of the country acknowledged. England therefore declared war against France, and prepared to keep up in America some years longer a useless, expensive, and murderous conflict, in which she had hardly a hope of ultimate success. The Colonists were indeed compelled to pay a heavy price for their freedom. The public finances were in a deplorable state; recruits could not be obtained except by enormous bounties, and the troops were but half fed and half clothed; and the people generally were suffering from the interruption of trade and agriculture, and the scarcity of breadstuffs. There was hardly a family in the land to which the war had not already brought privation and bereavement. And yet the spirit of the people continued high; they expected much from the French alliance, and, except among the Tories, hardly a wish was breathed for peace on any terms short of independence. For the army, which had passed the winter in miserable huts at Valley Forge, suffering from cold and disease, and to some extent also from hunger and nakedness, Washington set apart a day for rejoicing when the news of the treaty with France were received. Losses and hardships were then forgotten in the general exultation; ‘every heart was filled with gratitude to the French king, and every mouth spoke his praise.’
The quarters of the British army were now found to be too much extended; and it was resolved to evacuate Philadelphia and to retreat to New York. The American army, which had been reinforced in the spring of 1778, and somewhat trained and disciplined through the great efforts of Baron Steuben, a brave and skillful Prussian officer, hung upon their rear and gave them much trouble. A battle was fought at Monmouth, June 28, with indecisive results, though the British loss considerably exceeded that of the Americans. Many of the German soldiers, also, took the opportunity to desert. Count D’Estaing soon arrived with a powerful fleet, having 4,000 French soldiers on board, and a scheme for a combined attack on New York having failed because the pilots would not conduct the heavier ships over the bar, an expedition against Newport was agreed upon, that place being held by Gen. Pigot, at the head of 6,000 men. The fleet blockaded the harbor, and forced the English to sink some of their frigates; but the Continental troops and New England militia did not arrive soon enough to coöperate with the ships, which were compelled to put to sea by Lord Howe’s fleet, and were also crippled by a storm. The undertaking was abandoned, and Gen. Sullivan had much difficulty in bringing off the American troops, as the British had received a large reinforcement. These were the only military operations on a large scale during the year; though as the war was now prosecuted both by the British and the Tories in a less hopeful and more revengeful spirit, several predatory expeditions were sent out that did much wanton injury, and in some skirmishes no quarter was given, and acts of sickening barbarity were committed. Wyoming, a flourishing settlement in Pennsylvania, was desolated by an incursion of Indians and Tories, the male inhabitants were massacred, the houses burned, and the cattle killed or driven off. Some towns on the coast of Massachusetts were burned, and a heavy contribution was levied on a defenseless island. In New York, Baylor’s troop of dragoons were surprised, and the men bayonetted, under Gen. Gray’s orders to give no quarter; and the same fate befell the infantry of Pulaski’s legion. There was some excuse for the Tories in these proceedings; their property had been very generally confiscated, they often had rough personal treatment, and on slight pretexts, some of them had been hanged.
During the next two years, the war was chiefly carried on by the British in the southern States, where the population was more scattered and divided in opinion, and the country offered fewer means of defense. At the close of 1778, Savannah was taken by an expedition from New York, and another body of royal troops coming up from Florida, nearly completed the conquest of Georgia. Gen. Lincoln was sent to take the command in this department, and by great exertions he protected Charleston and South Carolina from the enemy till September 1779, when D’Estaing, with a French fleet and 6,000 men, arrived on the coast, and the two armies in concert laid siege to Savannah. But as the French could remain but a short time, the attack was made prematurely, and the besiegers were beaten off with great loss, the gallant Count Pulaski being among the slain. Gen. Mathews was sent from New York, with 2,500 men, on a plundering expedition to Virginia. He took possession of Portsmouth and Norfolk, burned some ships of war and many private vessels, and brought off a large quantity of tobacco, after destroying private property to the amount of two millions of dollars. At the north, Congress took measures to punish the Indians for the atrocities they had committed at Wyoming, and other places. Gen. Sullivan led an expedition of 4,000 men into the heart of their country, in the western part of the State of New York, destroyed their villages, cut down their fruit trees, and so devastated the region, that the miserable savages could attempt nothing more till the close of the war. Some British troops under Gen. Tryon paid a marauding visit to the Connecticut shore, plundered and burned several towns, and destroyed a large amount of property. About the only legitimate military exploits of the year, at the north, were the capture by the British of Stony Point and Verplanck’s Point on the Hudson, thus rendering the communication between New England and the Middle States more circuitous and difficult, and the recapture of Stony Point in a very gallant manner by the Americans under Gen. Wayne.
Spain had now joined the alliance against England, June, 1779, though with no very definite purpose, except the hope that, while the attention of the British ministry was occupied by so many enemies, she might regain possession of Gibraltar. For a short time, the united French and Spanish fleet swept the British seas; but it was soon compelled to go into harbor. The next year, 1780, added another European power to the list of England’s enemies, and brought her assumed empire of the seas into great danger. To check the maritime superiority of the British, who, during the war, had greatly disturbed the neutral trade at sea, and molested the ships of every country by an oppressive search for contraband goods, Catherine II of Russia concluded an alliance with the several neutral powers, which should maintain the principle of ‘free ships, free goods,’ and thus secure the trade of the neutral states on the coasts and in the harbors of either of the belligerent powers. The confederacy also declared that no blockade of any port should be deemed effectual, so as to exclude neutral vessels from entering it, if there were not an adequate naval force present to maintain the blockade and render it dangerous for any ship to attempt to enter. This neutral alliance was constituted successively by Russia, Denmark, Sweden, Prussia, Austria, Naples, and Portugal. But Holland, whose adherence was very important from her situation and maritime strength, hesitated so long that England got information of the project, and declared war against the Dutch before they could give in their adhesion at St. Petersburg. Holland thus disappeared from the list of the neutral powers, and the alliance was deprived of her aid towards accomplishing their great purpose.
A powerful British armament, under Clinton and Arbuthnot, appeared before Charleston in February, 1780, and laid siege to it, with a view to the ultimate conquest of the whole State. Gen. Lincoln’s means of defense were very inadequate, and though he made every effort, he was compelled, after a resistance of 42 days, to surrender the city and give up his whole army as prisoners of war. The enemy then easily overran South Carolina; and many of the inhabitants, to avoid the extremities of war, took ‘protections’ from them, and thereby avowed themselves to be British subjects. Lord Cornwallis was then left to command at the South, while Clinton returned to New York. Congress appointed Gen. Gates to oppose the former, and by great exertions an army of 4,000 men was collected for this purpose, mostly militia, who were ill fed and ill armed, and not at all disciplined. With the rash confidence inspired by his success against Burgoyne, Gates advanced hastily and with little precaution, was attacked under unfavorable circumstances by Cornwallis, near Camden, and his army so completely routed that not a fourth part of them could be again brought together. The southern States were thus rendered almost entirely defenseless, though the British for the present were not able to invade North Carolina from the want of supplies. Sumter and Marion, also, noted partisan officers, gave them great annoyance by collecting bands of irregular troops, and waging a kind of guerrilla warfare against their outposts and detachments. One motley collection of such troops, chiefly mounted backwoodsmen with their rifles, under Shelby and Sevier, intercepted Ferguson, an active Loyalist, at the head of about 1,000 Tories, at King’s Mountain, and totally defeated him, taking most of his men prisoners, and hanging some of them as traitors. At the end of the year, Gen. Greene was sent to take Gates’ place, and a small regular army was collected for him, which he led with consummate ability. At the north, a French fleet and army, the latter under Rochambeau, arrived at Newport, but were blockaded there by a superior British fleet, so that they accomplished nothing.
Another remarkable incident of the year was the treason of Gen. Arnold, a very brave officer, but dissolute, wayward, and extravagant, who sold himself to the British for £10,000 and a general’s commission, covenanting to give into their power, also, West Point and the other American fortresses in the Highlands. The conspiracy was detected just before the time fixed for its execution. Arnold succeeded in making his escape; but Major Andrè, a gallant English officer whom Clinton had sent to negotiate with him, was seized when in disguise within the American lines, and was tried and executed as a spy. The want of pay and the impossibility of complying with the just demands of the soldiers, caused some Pennsylvania regiments, who were encamped near Morristown, to break out into open revolt. They were invited to join the British, as Arnold had done; but they refused, and after the matter had been compromised by Congress some of their grievances being redressed, they gave up the emissaries of the enemy, who were hanged as spies. Some New Jersey troops quickly followed this example of insubordination; but their revolt was crushed with a strong hand, and a few of the ringleaders were executed.
The comparative ease with which Georgia and South Carolina had been subdued caused great efforts to be made, in 1781, for the conquest of North Carolina and Virginia. In January of this year the traitor Arnold was sent with 1,600 men, chiefly Tories, to plunder and devastate the country on the Chesapeake and the James river, in order to cripple the resources of the state; and after he had accomplished this service, he was joined by Gen. Phillips, with 2,000 troops from New York. But these marauding expeditions did not help the British cause much; they caused great misery, but they incensed the people so much that they lost all thoughts of acquiescence and submission, and made desperate efforts to repulse the destroyers. The plan was, that Cornwallis should march north, to join Phillips and Arnold, their united forces being deemed sufficient to crush all opposition at the South. But Cornwallis had now an able and determined opponent in Greene, who gave him enough to do in the Carolinas. Half of Greene’s force, under Morgan, who had been sent to put down the Tories in the west, encountered the British light troops under Tarleton, at the Cowpens, and gave them a signal defeat, killing or taking prisoners over 600 of them. Cornwallis instantly started of in great haste, to overtake and punish Morgan before he could rejoin his commander. But the activity of the Americans baffled him. Still the British general pushed on; and Greene’s whole force being much inferior, he was obliged to make a rapid retreat into Virginia. He soon returned, however, with some reinforcements, and offered battle at Guilford Court House, where Cornwallis indeed defeated him, but the victory was equivalent to a defeat. The British loss was greater than the American, and Cornwallis was obliged to retire to Wilmington, near the sea. Greene pursued him for a while, and then took the bold step of marching directly into South Carolina, which had been left in charge of Lord Rawdon with a small force. Finding it impossible to overtake him, Cornwallis imitated his bold policy by marching north, to join the king’s troops in Virginia. Greene and Rawdon came in conflict with each other at Hobkirk’s Hill, April 25, and the former was again defeated, though his loss was no greater than the enemy’s and the advantages of the encounter were all on his side. Lee and Marion, with other partisan officers, encouraged by his presence, roused the inhabitants to arms; nearly all the British posts in the upper country were captured or abandoned, and the larger part of South Carolina was restored to the Americans. Their irritated opponents shot as deserters all whom they captured in arms that had once accepted British protection; among these victims was Colonel Hayne, an eminent citizen of Charleston, whose fate caused much sorrow and indignation. The conflict on both sides had all the aggravated features of a civil war.
The arrival of a powerful fleet under Count De Grasse having given the French a temporary superiority at sea, the French forces at Newport were released, and an attack upon the British in New York was projected for the combined army of Washington and Rochambeau. But this came to be thought an enterprise beyond their strength, and it was resolved in preference to strike a blow at Cornwallis in Virginia. That enterprising general, after vainly endeavoring to overtake and crush the small American force commanded by Lafayette, had retired to Yorktown, a peninsula at the mouth of York river, where he had strongly intrenched himself at the head of 8,000 men. Here he was blockaded by De Grasse’s fleet, and, a fortnight afterwards, was invested by the combined French and American army, 16,000 strong. About the same time, also, the ever active Greene had fought another battle with the British in South Carolina, at Eutaw Springs, the immediate result of which was indecisive, the loss on each side being about 700; but the general consequence was, that the British were thenceforward cooped up in Charleston and the small district between the Cooper and Ashley rivers. Cornwallis was vigorously pressed his intrenchments being ruined and his guns dismounted by the fire of heavy breaching batteries. He tried a sally without improving his situation; and then, all hope of aid from New York having failed, he was obliged to capitulate and surrender his whole army, still about 7,000 strong, as prisoners of war. This grand stroke was virtually the end of the armed contest in America; having sacrificed two large armies, and protracted the struggle for six years, the British could no longer hope to retain a foothold in the United States, far less to bring them back to their former allegiance.
Such now came to be the general opinion even in England, where, indeed, for the last three years, the war had been very unpopular. It had added over one hundred millions sterling to the national debt; it had sullied the military reputation of the kingdom, which had never stood higher than in 1760, and never lower than after the capture of Cornwallis; it had brought France, Spain, and Holland into a league of hostilities against her, and had combined the other professedly neutral powers in an alliance hardly less injurious to her interests and her fame. Even the signal victory obtained by the English admiral, Lord Rodney, over De Grasse’s fleet in the West Indies, April 12th 1782, and the equally signal defeat of the Spaniards in their last and desperate attempt to take Gibraltar, failed to restore English self-complacency, or to reconcile the nation of that ministry (Lord North’s) which had brought them into so humiliating a position. These successes were but casual gleams of good fortune that came to lighten the close of a long period of disaster and shame. The phalanx of Lord North’s parliamentary supporters was broken, his ministry was driven from office, the king’s obstinacy was overcome, and the Whigs, under the guidance of Lord Rockingham, were established in power, with the express understanding that they were to make peace by submitting to the independence of the United States. Negotiations were immediately commenced with the American commissioners at Paris, Franklin, Adams, Laurens, and Jay; they were protracted by points of form, and by the breaking up of the Whig ministry through the death of Rockingham; but provisional articles of peace were signed on the 30th of November, 1782, and the cessation of hostilities was agreed upon in January following. Owing to the necessity of including the Continental powers of Europe in the pacification, the definitive treaty of peace was not concluded till the next September. In this, the independence of the United States was acknowledged, their boundaries adjusted, and a share in the fisheries secured to them; while the claims of the other belligerent powers were adjusted by the surrender or return of the conquered towns and islands.
The peace came not too soon for exhausted and bleeding America. The impossibility of satisfying the just demands of the army, the consequent sufferings both of officers and men, and the prospect of being disbanded at the peace and sent home in utter poverty, created a determination among many of them to insist upon the payment of their dues with arms in their hands. Nothing but the moderation, wisdom, and firmness of their great commander-in-chief saved the country from the horrors of military usurpation. Some of the officers so far misjudged Washington as to think that he might be tempted to play the part of Cromwell; but his prompt and stern rebuke put an immediate end to the project. He then exerted himself, and with success, to soothe the passions that had been excited, and to lead the army back to moderate and patriotic counsels. The officers and men were persuaded to accept certificates of debt, with interest, for the arrears that were due to them, and to rely upon the efforts of Congress and the gratitude of the people for their redemption. The troops were quietly disbanded in the course of the summer and autumn of 1783, and towards the close of the year, after the British had evacuated every place upon the seaboard, Washington was admitted to a public audience by Congress, when he resigned his commission, and took a final leave, as he supposed, ‘of all the employments of public life.’ Universal gratitude and respect which amounted almost to veneration, attended him to his retirement at Mount Vernon.
At the close of the war, the United States were burdened with a heavy debt, of which they had not the means even of paying the interest, the public credit was annihilated, commerce and manufactures were in a torpid condition, and the country was almost without a government. During the greater part of the struggle, Congress had possessed no authority but what was tacitly granted to it from the necessity of the case. The individual States were unwilling to give up any portion of that independence which they were striving to vindicate against a foreign power. They claimed complete sovereignty, and were unwilling to appear only as the members of a confederacy, under the general control of a central government. Besides, it was hard to adjust the terms of such an alliance. Perfect equality was hardly to be expected among states that differed so widely from each other in regard to population, wealth, and extent of territory; yet on no terms short of equality would any one State consent to a union with the others. There were also many unadjusted controversies between them, in respect to boundary, and the ownership of that vast territory beyond the Alleghanies which had been wrested from the French. In 1777, a plan of union had been framed and adopted in Congress, after two years’ discussion, not as the best which could be imagined, or as adapted to all exigencies, but as the only one ‘suited to existing circumstances, or at all likely to be adopted.’ It was not to go into effect until it was ratified by all the States; and only four of them could be induced at first to adopt it. Slowly and reluctantly the others gave in their adhesion, the consent of New Jersey and Delaware not being obtained till 1779, and that of Maryland not till 1781, when, at last, the final sanction of the articles of Confederation, as they were termed, was joyfully announced by Congress. But the union thus effected was very inadequate for the ends in view. It did not establish a central government; it was only a league of several independent sovereignties. Congress was the only organ of the confederacy; each State had but one vote in this body on the decision of any question; and in respect to many subjects, the consent of nine States was requisite before the measure could go into effect. And after all, Congress had no power but to recommend measures; it could not enforce them. It could ‘ascertain the sums necessary to be raised for the service of the United States,’ and determine the quota or proportion which each State ought to pay; but it depended upon the States whether the specified amount should be raised and paid, or the recommendation entirely neglected. The fact generally was, that they refused compliance, or paid no attention to the demand; of the many requisitions of Congress, not one fourth were complied with. Excuses or palliations of such conduct were not wanting; the States were very poor, and had heavy debts of their own to provide for. Again, Congress could not impose duties upon imports, and the circumstances of the case prevented even the individual States from exercising this power. If imported goods were taxed by one, they were admitted free by another, which thus obtained a larger share of domestic and foreign trade, while the ports of its rival were deserted. Treaties with foreign powers could not be negotiated, as there was no power in the country to enforce the provisions made in them, the authority of Congress and that of the separate members of the confederacy just serving to paralyze each other. There was no common tribunal to which the States could appeal for the adjustment of their controversies with each other; and the ill compacted league was therefore liable to be broken by the first serious dispute which might grow out of many conflicting interests. It was obvious that this state of things could not long continue without bringing upon the country all the evils of anarchy and civil war.
The condition and temper of the people increased this hazard. The vast exertions they had made during the armed struggle had exhausted their energies, and, to a certain extent, had demoralized them. On the one hand, there was a general feeling of lassitude, an indisposition to make any further sacrifices or efforts, and on the other, a fierce impatience of any act or movement which should even seem to limit their recently acquired, universal freedom. The load of public and private debt was enormous. Of what use was it, that the people had successfully resisted English bayonets, if they were now to be called upon to respect implicitly the orders of the sheriff and the staff of the constable? To what purpose had they braved the wrath of the crown and the parliament, if creditors were still to distress them, and county courts sentence them to fine and imprisonment? Or why tax themselves millions of hard dollars, when they had just gone through a seven years war because they would not pay an impost of three pence a pound on tea? It is no cause for wonder that such questions were frequently asked, or even that the majority of the people were inclined to answer them in a way most consonant with their present feelings. It was a period of general anxiety and gloom――a true crisis in the history of free institutions, not only in this country, but throughout the world. It was now to be determined whether national independence was to prove a blessing or a curse;――whether the people, after throwing off all foreign restraint, would be wise and magnanimous enough to impose laws upon themselves, and to respect them when made, or whether they would follow that course of anarchy, license, and civil war which has subsequently rendered the history of the South American republics and of the ephemeral republican governments of the Old World a warning to mankind.
The matter was brought to a crisis in 1786, by the breaking out of a rebellion in Massachusetts, the object of the insurgents being to close by violence the courts of law, thus putting a stop to all legal measures for the collection of debts, and to compel the government to issue paper money, in order that all obligations might be discharged in a much depreciated currency. Job Shattuck and Daniel Shays, formerly a captain in the revolutionary army, were the leaders of the disaffected party, and it was at least doubtful whether they did not count a majority of the people among their followers. Job Shattuck, at the head of an armed force, took possession of the court-house at Worcester, and sent a written message to the judges, ‘that it was the sense of the people that the courts should not sit.’ At last by great exertions on the part of the government and the well-affected citizens, an army of 4,000 men, under General Lincoln, was fitted out, and after a very severe campaign in the midst of winter, this dangerous insurrection was suppressed with but little loss of life. An indirect but happy consequence of this rebellion was, that it convinced the majority of the people throughout the United States that a strong central government was indispensable, not merely for their wellbeing, but for the preservation of society itself from anarchy and ruin. ‘You talk, my good Sir,’ wrote Washington from Mount Vernon, ‘of employing influence to appease the present tumults in Massachusetts. I know not where that influence is to be found; and, if attainable, it would not be a proper remedy for these disorders. Influence is not government. Let us have a government, by which our lives, liberties, and properties will be secured, or let us know the worst at once.’
Accordingly, a Convention of delegates from eleven of the States was held in Philadelphia in May, 1787, to revise the Articles of the Confederation, or, in other words, to frame a Constitution of government for the whole country. The delegates from New Hampshire did not appear till the Convention had been two months in session, and Rhode Island was never represented at all. Among the members present were Dr. Franklin, then in his 81st year, and Washington, who was unanimously chosen president of the Convention. After they had been in session four months, with closed doors, strict secrecy being observed as to all their proceedings, they framed and published the present Constitution of the United States, approved by the signatures of all but three of the delegates who were then present, and which was to go into effect after it had been ratified in nine of the States, by Conventions that were to be called for the occasion. Not without great difficulty, and many compromises of conflicting opinions and interests, had this great step been taken.
The central government established by the Constitution was to consist of three departments, legislative, executive, and judicial. The legislature, called the Congress, was to consist of two branches, the Senate and the House of Representatives. In the former, the representation was equal, each State having two senators; in the latter, the number of representatives was to be proportioned to the population, which was to be ascertained every ten years by adding to the whole number of the freemen three-fifths of the slaves. Two classes of opposing claims were thus adjusted by concessions on both sides. The executive power was vested in a president, chosen for four years, by electors equal in number, for each State, to all its senators and representatives in Congress. The president was allowed a qualified negative on all the enactments of the legislature, as a bill to which he refused his consent was to become a law only when approved by two-thirds of the votes in both branches. The judicial power was vested in a Supreme Court, and such inferior courts as Congress might establish; and it extended to all cases arising under the Constitution, the laws of Congress, and treaties made with foreign powers, to all cases of maritime jurisdiction, and all controversies between States, between citizens of different States, and between foreigners and citizens. Congress was not to prevent the importation of slaves till the year 1808, and slaves escaping from one State to another were to be delivered up. Congress received the power to declare war, to raise and support armies, to lay and collect taxes, duties, imposts, and excises, to coin money, to establish post-offices and post-roads, to provide and maintain a navy, and to call forth the militia for the purpose of executing the laws, suppressing insurrections, and repelling invasions. The States were prohibited, generally, from exercising any of the functions that were conferred upon Congress. In general terms, the States retained the power of domestic legislation upon all subjects in regard to which their interests were not likely to conflict, or which could be effectually disposed of without the coöperation of the whole Union; while the Federal government assumed the functions which the States were deprived of, and received whatever other authority was needed to enable it to negotiate effectively with foreign powers as the representative of one nation. Numerous provisions were borrowed from Magna Charta and the more liberal portions of the English Common Law, and incorporated into the Constitution, to protect the liberty and the rights of individuals, and to guard against acts of oppression and injustice on the part of either the Federal or the State Governments. The instrument was very practical in its character, and far more simple and concise than could reasonably have been expected, considering the complicated subject with which it had to do, and the difficulty in adjusting the relations of the Federal government to the individual States, and of so distributing power between them that they could work together harmoniously and effectively. As a whole, if judged either by the most approved maxims of political science, or by the light reflected upon it from that experience of more than sixty years to which it has been subjected, it may claim a high place among the best models of government that have been devised in ancient and modern times. It has required but few and slight amendments, and it has accomplished the whole work which it was designed to perform.
Great difficulties were again experienced in obtaining its ratification by the conventions in the several States, to which it was soon submitted. The two parties which were then formed, of its advocates and opponents, divided the people very equally between them, and, with some modifications, these parties have subsisted to the present day. The consent of nine States was necessary; five ratified the instrument soon and with little difficulty. Then the question came up in Massachusetts, where the parties were nearly equal, though the democratic and independent spirit of the people seemed to incline the balance against the Constitution. Everything was thought to depend upon the decision of this State and Virginia, on account of their great weight in the Union, and the influence which they would respectively exert at the north and the south. Governor Hancock and Samuel Adams, the former being the president of the Convention, and the latter one of its most influential members, wavered. The Convention at last decided to propose certain amendments for adoption in the form prescribed by the Constitution itself; these served as an anodyne for the scruples of the two leading patriots, and the ratification was finally carried, though by a very slender majority. The consent of Maryland, South Carolina, and New Hampshire was then obtained, and next came that of Virginia, though after as warm a struggle as in Massachusetts, the opposition being led with great effect by Patrick Henry. The question was now virtually decided, and New York therefore gave a tardy and reluctant assent, which would probably have been a refusal if the measure could thereby have been defeated. North Carolina would only ratify upon certain conditions, and Rhode Island would not even hold a Convention to consider the subject; but as eleven States had adopted the Constitution, their approval was not absolutely necessary, and it was finally given after the new form of government had been some time in operation. It must be granted, in favor of the opposition, that they showed no factious spirit, but calmly acquiesced in the decision of their countrymen. Congress appointed the first Wednesday in January, 1789, for the choice of electors, the first Wednesday in February for those electors to choose a president, and the first Wednesday in March for the new government to go into operation. As had been anticipated, George Washington was unanimously elected president; indeed, the certainty that he would be chosen to this office induced many to vote for the Constitution who would otherwise have opposed it. John Adams was elected Vice-President, and senators and representatives were also chosen to form the first Congress. Proceedings were commenced at New York on the 4th of March, 1789; but a quorum of both houses did not come together till April, and on the 30th of this month, President Washington was sworn into office, and the new government went into full operation.
CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY.
The second session of the first Congress began January 8, 1790. Agreeably to a plan submitted by Mr. Hamilton, secretary of the treasury, Congress proceeded to make provision for discharging in full the foreign and domestic debt, and assumed also the debts incurred by the several States in carrying on the war. To this object the proceeds of the public lands lying in the western territory, the surplus revenue from the duties on imports, and a loan of two millions, were appropriated. This measure immediately restored public credit; certificates of public debt rose to par; and those who had purchased low, realized immense fortunes. Business of all kinds revived, and the country entered upon a career of prosperous activity and enterprise.
At the next session of Congress, after a protracted debate, a bill was passed imposing a tax on domestic spirits, for the purpose of paying the interest on the State debts assumed by the Union. A national bank was also established, not without opposition, mainly on the ground of its unconstitutionality. The party lines between the federalists and anti-federalists (as they were called), which had begun to appear when the adoption of the new constitution was under discussion, became this session more broad and clear. A regular opposition to the administration began to be organized.
Meantime the hostilities of the Indians northwest of the Ohio made it necessary to send an expedition against them. Gen. Harmar was put in command, but he was defeated with considerable loss in a battle near Chillicothe. Gen. St. Clair, who succeeded in command, was also totally defeated. A bill then passed Congress for raising an additional force to the army. The measure was bitterly resisted by the opposition, chiefly on the ground that standing armies were dangerous, and that the proposed increase showed the existence of monarchical designs on the part of the administration. An unsuccessful attempt was made the next session to reduce the military establishment; and the opposition introduced various resolutions, evincing their hostility to the administration. The public press became also the vehicle of vehement attacks, particularly upon the secretary of the treasury, Mr. Hamilton; and party spirit, from day to day, grew stronger throughout the country.
On the expiration of his term of office, however, Washington was unanimously reëlected president, March, 1793; Mr. Adams again vice-president. Beside the still unsettled condition of Indian affairs, this term of Washington’s administration was embarrassed by new difficulties, growing out of the French revolution. The French republic had just declared war against England and Holland; and so strong in the United States was the hatred of the people to the British, and so lively their sympathy with the French, that the opinion was entertained in many quarters that America was bound by every consideration, both of gratitude to an old ally, and sympathy with the cause of republicanism, to make common cause with France.
Immediately on receiving intelligence of the declaration of war, Washington convened a cabinet council, and by their unanimous advice, issued a proclamation, enjoining strict neutrality to be observed on the part of the United States toward the belligerent powers, April 22, 1793. The opposition (anti-federalist) party, through the press, bitterly inveighed against this proclamation, denouncing it as a high-handed assumption of power on the part of the president, ‘a royal edict,’ evincing his monarchical disposition, and also as dishonorable and ungrateful towards France.
In this state of things, Mr. Genet, the new minister appointed by the French republic, arrived in the country, with the object of engaging the coöperation of the United States against England. Misled by the flattering reception he met with at Charleston, where he landed, he immediately began, even before he had been recognized as minister, to excite the people against the government, and carried his audacity so far as to set at defiance the proclamation of neutrality, fitting out expeditions, and giving commissions to American vessels to cruise against the enemies of France, and assuming the power to hold admiralty courts, for the trial and sale of prizes thus made. In these measures he was supported by the opposition, or as it began to be called, the DEMOCRATIC party, which now began, under the influence of the French minister, and in imitation of the affiliated clubs in France, to form democratic societies throughout the country.
Washington demanded the recall of Mr. Genet. The French government complied, and instructed his successor to express its entire disapproval of Genet’s conduct. When Congress assembled in December following, the proclamation of neutrality, and the conduct of Washington towards Genet, were approved by that body, as they were finally by the great body of the nation.
In 1794 Congress passed a bill providing for a naval force to protect American commerce against the Algerines. The slave-trade was likewise prohibited.
There seemed now reason to apprehend the necessity of another war with England. In addition to severe and unjust commercial restrictions imposed by that government, she had proceeded to capture and condemn neutral vessels having on board French goods, or carrying corn and other supplies to France. In anticipation of a war, Congress passed several bills――for imposing an embargo; for organizing the militia; and for increasing the standing army. Meanwhile information was received that the British government was disposed to redress the grievances complained of, and amicably adjust all differences. John Jay was accordingly nominated and approved as envoy to Great Britain.
All attempts to make peace with the Indians having failed, the war was renewed. Gen. Wayne was appointed to succeed Gen. St. Clair. On the 20th of August, he gained a decisive victory over a large body of the Miamies, and then proceeded to lay waste their country. This victory prevented a general war with the Six Nations and with the tribes northwest of the Ohio. The ‘Whisky Insurrection’ in Pennsylvania is one of the events of this year. It grew out of the duty on domestic spirits; this tax pressed heavily on the inhabitants of the west, and was besides considered unjust in principle. The proclamation of the president being disregarded, a considerable force of militia (fifteen thousand men), under Governor Lee of Maryland, was ordered out. On their approach, the insurgents laid down their arms, and promised submission to the laws.
In 1795 Mr. Jay having concluded a treaty of amity, commerce, and navigation, with Great Britain, the senate was convoked to consider it. Meanwhile, its contents having been disclosed, the most violent opposition was made to it; public meetings were held, and petitions against it were sent from all quarters of the country. The partisans of France and the enemies of England denounced it in the most unmeasured terms. The objections to it were, generally, that it wanted reciprocity; that it gave up all compensation for negroes carried away contrary to the treaty of peace, and for the detention of the western posts; that it contravened the French treaty, and sacrificed the interest of our ally to that of Great Britain; that it gave up in several important instances the law of nations, particularly in relation to free ships makings free goods, cases of blockade, and contraband of war; that it improperly interfered with the legislative powers of Congress, and that the commercial part gave few advantages to the United States. The treaty was, however, ratified by the senate, and signed by the president, August 14, 1795.
In October, after a long negotiation, a treaty was made with Spain, settling some questions of boundary, and acquiring for the United States the right of navigating the Mississippi. Treaties were also concluded with Algiers, and with the Indians in the West.
On the assembling of congress in 1796, it became necessary to make appropriations and pass resolutions for carrying these treaties into effect. This gave occasion for a new display of hostility to the British treaty: and it was only after a debate of seven weeks, that the necessary resolutions passed the house of representatives, and then only by a majority of three. Public opinion at length gradually settled in favor of this treaty, as the only means of saving the country from becoming involved in the wars of the French revolution; and in the sequel it proved of great advantage to the United States. The close of the second term of Washington’s administration was now approaching. Signifying his intention to retire from public life, the Father of his country took occasion to issue a farewell address to his countrymen, replete with maxims of political wisdom, and sentiments of patriotism and virtue.
The personal influence of Washington, due alike to his wisdom, his virtues, and his eminent services, was of the utmost importance in the first working of the new government. During the eight years of his administration, all differences with foreign nations had been peaceably settled, except those with France; and at home the Indian tribes had been pacified. Public and private credit were restored; ample provision made for the security and ultimate payment of the public debt; American tonnage had nearly doubled; the exports had increased from nineteen to more than fifty-six millions of dollars; the imports in about the same proportion; and the amount of revenue from imposts had exceeded the most sanguine calculations. The population had increased from three and a half to five millions; and agriculture and all the industrial interests of the country were in a flourishing state.
The only drawback to this picture of prosperity were the difficulties with France. Discontented at the neutral policy of America, the French republic continued to make demands upon the gratitude of the United States, which could be yielded to only by surrendering the right of self-government. Finding all attempts to involve America in its wars with Europe ineffectual, and feeling aggrieved at the treaty with its enemy, the French government proceeded to retaliate, by adopting certain resolutions injurious to American commerce, under the operation of which, moreover, several hundred American vessels were seized and confiscated. Just before his retirement from office, Washington had recalled Mr. Monroe, and despatched Mr. Charles Cotesworth Pinckney to France, as minister plenipotentiary, to settle the difficulties between the two nations. Such was the state of the country at the close of Washington’s administration.
On the 4th of March, 1797, John Adams became president. The French republic refusing to receive Mr. Pinckney, a subsequent mission extraordinary to that government having also totally failed, and spoliation upon American commerce continually increasing, congress began to adopt vigorous measures for defense and retaliation. The treaties with France were declared no longer obligatory on the United States; an army was raised; and Washington was appointed commander-in-chief. Several engagements at sea took place between French and American vessels. The French government now signified indirectly a willingness to treat, and envoys were again sent from the United States. Before their arrival, the revolution of the 18th Brumaire (November 10, 1799) had taken place; the directorial government was overthrown, and Bonaparte was at the head of affairs as first consul. This event changed the policy of the French government; negotiations were commenced, and a treaty was concluded September 30, 1800.
On the 14th of December, 1799, died George Washington, mourned by the nation as no other man was ever mourned by any people. There have been great men superior perhaps to him in particular qualities and endowments: but in the perfect proportion and harmony of all the qualities of his nature, intellectual and moral, in the entireness and unity of his character, he is distinguished above all the great men whom history presents to our contemplation. In this consisted the secret of the repose, dignity, and grandeur, that through his whole life made so strong an impression upon all who approached him, and gave him such power over them.
Party spirit ran high during Mr. Adams’s administration. Its measures were violently assailed by the opposition, particularly the ‘alien’ and ‘sedition’ laws: by the former of which, any alien considered dangerous might be ordered to depart from the country; and by the latter, combinations to oppose the government, libelous publications etc. were made penal. The unpopularity of these and some other measures gave great strength to the democratic party, and defeated the reëlection of Mr. Adams.
On the 4th of March, 1801, Thomas Jefferson succeeded Mr. Adams as president of the United States. At the next session of congress, several of the most important acts of the preceding period were repealed, particularly those imposing internal taxes, and reorganizing the United States courts. Among the most important events of this period was the purchase of Louisiana from the French for fifteen millions of dollars. Mr. Jefferson’s term of office expiring, he was reëlected, and commenced a second term, March 4, 1805. The same year a war which had been carried on for several years with Tripoli, was brought to a close by a treaty of peace.
The interests of the United States were now becoming complicated with the policy of the belligerent powers of Europe. The peace of Amiens in 1802 gave but a short repose from war; hostilities were soon renewed between France and England, and all the powers of Europe became involved in them. The United States maintained a strict neutrality and engaged in an extensive and profitable carryingtrade. But in 1806, the English government, by an order of council, declared the blockade of all the ports and rivers from the Elbe to Brest. Napoleon retaliated by the famous ‘Berlin decree,’ declaring all the British islands in a state of blockade. This was met by another British order of council, prohibiting all coasting-trade with France.
While these measures, which were partly in contravention of the law of nations, operated very injuriously upon the commerce of America, and tended to embroil her with both the belligerent powers, an old difficulty with England was aggravated by a special outrage. Great Britain had always claimed the right of searching American vessels, and of impressing from them native-born British subjects. They had also impressed some thousands of American seamen, under the pretext that they were British born. In this course the English government persisted in spite of the remonstrances of the United States. In June, 1807, Commodore Barron, commanding the American frigate Chesapeake, refusing to deliver three men claimed by the British, the Chesapeake was attacked by the British frigate Leopard off the capes of Virginia, very much injured and crippled, and the men in question forcibly taken away.
The public mind was greatly exasperated by this outrage. The president, by proclamation, ordered all British armed vessels off the waters of the United States, until satisfaction should be made, which the American minister, Mr. Monroe, was instructed to demand forthwith, as well as security against future impressments from American vessels. The British government declined to treat concerning the general question of search and impressment, but sent a special envoy to the United States, to settle the particular injury in the case of the Chesapeake. Mr. Rose was instructed, however, not to treat until the president’s proclamation was revoked. This being refused, the matter rested; and was not finally adjusted until four years later, when satisfactory reparation was made by the British government.
Meantime, on the 17th of December, 1807, Bonaparte, in retaliation for the British order in council, issued the Milan decree declaring every vessel denationalized that should submit to search by the British, and every vessel a good prize taken sailing to or from Great Britain or its colonies, or any place occupied by British troops.
The embargo failing to compel the belligerent powers to revoke measures so injurious to American commerce, and so subversive of the rights of neutrals, it was repealed on the 1st of March, 1809, and a law passed prohibiting all trade and intercourse with France and England.
Mr. Jefferson declining a reëlection, was succeeded, March 4th, 1809, by James Madison. The state of the country was gloomy. Her commerce was suffering both from foreign and domestic restrictions; and it seemed that she must indefinitely submit to this condition of things, or make war with the belligerents. In passing the non-intercourse act of March 1st, congress had empowered the president to repeal it by proclamation in the event of either of the hostile parties revoking their edicts. The British minister at Washington engaged for his government the repeal of the orders of council, so far as the United States were concerned. The president accordingly notified the renewal of commercial intercourse with Great Britain. But the English government disavowed the engagement of its minister, and non-intercourse was again proclaimed.
On the 23d of March 1810, Napoleon retaliated the non-intercourse act of congress by issuing the Rambouillet decree――ordering all vessels arriving in French ports, or the ports of countries occupied by French troops, to be seized and condemned. On the 1st of May, congress passed an act excluding British and French armed vessels from the waters of the United States――with a provision for renewing intercourse with whichever nation should within a given time cease to violate the commercial rights of neutral nations. In consequence of this act, the French decrees were revoked, and intercourse with France was renewed. It had been made a condition on the part of the French government, in revoking its decrees, that the English orders of council should be also revoked. But England affecting to question the fact of the actual revocation of the French decrees, continued to enforce its orders, stationing vessels-of-war just out the harbors of the United States, searching, and in many instances capturing and condemning American merchant vessels. In the period between 1803 and the close of 1811, nine hundred American vessels had been thus captured.
On the 3d of April, 1812, an act was passed by congress laying an embargo for ninety days on all vessels within the jurisdiction of the United States. And on the 4th of June following war was declared against Great Britain. The grounds of war alleged were the impressment of American seamen, and the violation of neutral rights. The feeling of the nation was by no means unanimous in favor of the war. It was protested against by a strong minority in congress, as unnecessary, impolitic, and immoral; and was generally condemned by the federal party throughout the country.
Thus the United States were again at war with England. The contest lasted for nearly three years. The limits of this history forbid any thing but a slight sketch of its events.
In the campaign of 1812, nothing of any importance was achieved by land. The invasion of Canada was planned: forces were drawn to the northern frontier of the Union, and naval preparations made upon the lakes. No footing was, however, gained in the British territory; on the contrary, Detroit and all the forts and garrisons in Michigan fell into the hands of the British, together with a considerable force under the command of General Hull, who surrendered without a battle, August 19; and the Americans were repulsed in an attack on Queenstown, and obliged to surrender, October 13. But on the ocean the American arms were more successful. The series of brilliant naval victories which distinguished the war was commenced by the capture of the British frigate Guerriere by the Constitution, Captain Isaac Hull, August 10. This was followed (August 13) by the capture of the Alert by the Essex, Captain Porter; of the Frolic by the Wasp (October 17); of the Macedonian by the United States, Commodore Decatur (October 25); and of the Java by the Constitution, then commanded by Commodore Bainbridge.
On the 4th of March, 1813, Mr. Madison was reëlected president. The military operations of this year extended along the whole line of the northern frontier. The Americans were signally defeated at Frenchtown by a body of British and Indians, and five hundred men made prisoners, who were nearly all massacred by the Indians after their surrender. York (now Toronto), the capital of Upper Canada, was taken by the Americans, with a large quantity of military stores. On the 1st of June, this year, the American navy suffered a severe loss in the capture of the frigate Chesapeake, Captain Lawrence, by the British frigate Shannon. In the engagement, Captain Lawrence and several brave officers were killed. This was followed by the loss of the Argus. These losses were counterbalanced by the capture of the British brig Boxer by the Enterprise, on the 5th of September, and by a brilliant victory gained (September 10) by the fleet on Lake Erie, under the command of Commodore Perry. This made the Americans masters of the lake, and opened the way to Detroit, which was soon after taken; its fall being preceded by the battle of the Thames, in which the British and Indian forces, under the command of General Proctor, were totally defeated by General Harrison. This victory had the effect of putting an end to the Indian war in the northwest, and of giving security to that frontier. The invasion of Canada was again attemted; but unexpected circumstances concurred to disarrange the plan of operations, and at length the northern army went into winter-quarters, without having effected anything toward the accomplishment of the object. High expectations had been formed of the success of this campaign, and the public disappointment was proportionally great.
At the south, the Creek Indians, instigated by the British, had taken up arms against the United States, and a sanguinary war was carried on in that quarter during the year 1813, and until in the summer of 1814, when General Jackson, having reduced the enemy in several engagements, at length inflicted upon them an almost exterminating defeat at Horseshoe Bend. The remnant of the tribe submitted, and the war was at an end. General Jackson was soon after appointed to the command of the forces at New Orleans.
In the spring of 1814, the American frigate Essex was captured by a superior British force in the bay of Valparaiso. But about the same time, the British brigs Epervier and Reindeer were captured, the former by the United States sloop-of-war Peacock, the latter by the sloop Wasp.
After some ineffectual movements at the north by General Wilkinson, little was attempted by either nation until midsummer, when the British government, free from the burden of the European war by the abdication of Napoleon, augmented their armies in America by the addition of fourteen thousand of the veteran troops of Wellington, and at the same time sent a strong naval force to blockade the harbors, and ravage the towns upon the coast.
On the 3d of July, General Brown crossed the Niagara river from Buffalo, and took the British fort Erie; and on the 4th, after an obstinate and bloody engagement, gained a victory over the British at Chippewa. On the 25th, was fought the battle of Bridgewater, near the falls of Niagara, one of the most bloody battles of modern times. The British force amounted to nearly five thousand men; the American was one third less. The loss of the English was eight hundred and seventy-eight; of the Americans, eight hundred and sixty. The Americans were left in possession of the field.
About the middle of August, a large British fleet arrived in the Chesapeake bay. Six thousand men, under the command of General Ross, landed and proceeded to Washington, burnt the capitol, the president’s house, and the buildings of the executive departments; and then by rapid marches retired to the ships, having lost about one thousand men in the expedition. On the 12th of September, an attack was made on Baltimore; but the place was so gallantly defended by militia and the inhabitants, that the enemy abandoned the attempt. General Ross, the commander-in-chief of the British forces, was among the killed. While the English were thus repulsed from Baltimore, signal success attended the American arms at the north. The naval force of the enemy on Lake Champlain was annihilated by Commodore M’Donough. The engagement took place off Plattsburgh; and while it was raging, Sir George Provost, with a force of fourteen thousand men, commenced an assault on the American works at Plattsburgh; but he met with such a destructive fire from the Americans under General Macomb, that he was compelled to retire, with the loss of twenty-five hundred men, abandoning his military stores, his sick and wounded.
On the 24th of December, a treaty of peace was signed at Ghent. But before its arrival, the last and most memorable battle of the war was fought at New Orleans. On the 8th of January, 1815, the American forces, amounting to about six thousand, chiefly militia, under the command of General Jackson, intrenched before the city, were attacked by fifteen thousand British troops, commanded by Sir Edward Packenham. After three charges, in which they were swept down with incredible slaughter, the British fled in confusion, leaving their dead and wounded on the field of battle. General Packenham was killed while rallying his troops to the second charge; General Gibbs, who succeeded in command, fell mortally wounded in the third charge. The loss of the British in killed was seven hundred; in wounded, fourteen hundred; in prisoners, five hundred: in all, twenty-six hundred. The Americans lost seven killed and six wounded. The joy excited by this victory was merged in the still livelier joy with which the news of the treaty of peace was soon after received. On the 17th of February, the treaty was ratified by the president and senate. This treaty made no allusion to the causes of the war, and settled none of the matters in dispute, and for which it was professedly declared. All parties, however, welcomed the return of peace. At a subsequent convention, signed by plenipotentiaries of the two countries appointed for the purpose, various articles for the regulation of commerce between England and the United States were adopted. Before the expiration of the time within which, by the treaty, all vessels taken by either party were to be held good prizes, several engagements at sea were fought, and several captures made. Among them the American frigate President was captured by a British squadron; and the British ships Cyane, Levant, and Penguin, were taken by the Americans.
At the next session of congress, a bill was passed incorporating the Bank of the United States, with a capital of thirty-five millions of dollars. The charter was to continue in force until the third of March, 1836. This measure was the subject of a very earnest and protracted debate both as to its constitutionality, and as to the principles on which the bank should be established.
Mr. Madison was succeeded in the office of president by James Monroe, March 4, 1817. The country was now at peace, but its condition was by no means prosperous. Commerce had not yet revived, and the manufactures which had been carried on during the war were entirely broken down by the influx of foreign merchandise. In 1818, a war broke out between the Seminoles and the United States, occasioned by the removal of some Indians from lands ceded to the United States by the Creeks in 1814. The Indians were entirely subdued by General Jackson. In 1819, another convention was made between Great Britain and the United States, granting to American citizens the right to fish on the banks of Newfoundland; establishing a portion of the northern boundary; and extending for ten years longer the commercial convention concluded four years before.
A treaty was also this year concluded with Spain, by which East and West Florida, with the islands adjacent, were ceded to the United States.
On the 4th of March, 1821, Mr. Monroe was unanimously elected to a second term of office. Much less unanimity, however, was displayed in the deliberations of the next congress. Some important commercial acts were passed; revolutionary soldiers were provided for by pensions; and the ratio of population and representation fixed at one representative to forty thousand inhabitants.
The year 1824 is signalized in the annals of the country by a visit from La Fayette, the friend and companion-in-arms of Washington, to whose services in the dark day of the revolutionary war the nation owed so much. He passed about a year in the country, visiting every part of it, and receiving everywhere the most enthusiastic tokens of homage and gratitude. He returned to his own country in a national frigate prepared for the purpose, and named, in honor of him, the Brandywine――the name of the battle in which he was wounded nearly fifty years before. During his visit, congress appropriated two hundred thousand dollars, and a township of land in Florida, as an acknowledgment of his eminent services.
Mr. Monroe retired from office with the respect and good will of all parties. His administration of affairs, both foreign and domestic, had been uninfluenced by party spirit, and characterised by uprightness, prudence, and good sense. The country was everywhere peaceful and prosperous. No choice of a successor to Mr. Monroe having been made by the electors, the choice devolved upon the house of representatives.
On the 4th of March, 1825, John Quincy Adams was inaugurated president of the United States.
Among the noticeable events during this administration, the first to be mentioned is a controversy between the general government and the executive of Georgia, in relation to certain lands held by the Cherokees and Creeks of that state. The general government had agreed to extinguish, for the benefit of Georgia, the Indian title to those lands――‘whenever it could be peaceably done, upon reasonable terms.’ But the Creeks, at a national council, refused to alienate their territory. After the council had broken up, and a majority of the chiefs had departed, a few who remained were induced to make a treaty, ceding the lands in question to the United States. This treaty was repudiated by the Creek nation. But the governor of Georgia determined to act upon it as valid. To prevent a war, the president ordered General Gaines to repair to the Creek country, for the protection of the Indians; and directed Governor Troup of Georgia to suspend his intended measures. Congress approved the course of the president; and at length a treaty was formed with the Creeks, which gave satisfaction to all parties except the state of Georgia.
The most important among the measures which occupied the first session of the twentieth congress, was the revision of the tariff, with a view to afford protection to American manufactures. The principle of a protective tariff was warmly opposed by the south, and by a large portion of the commercial body at the north; while the details of the bill which was passed were far from satisfactory to the friends of protection.
During Mr. Adams’ administration the prosperity of the United States had increased to an unexampled height. Agriculture, commerce, and manufactures, were every where flourishing. The public debt which at the close of the war, amounted to nearly one hundred and fifty millions of dollars, was almost extinguished. The annual revenue largely exceeded the demands of the government; and at the close of Mr. Adams’ term, there was a surplus of more than five millions in the treasury.
On the 4th of March, 1829, Andrew Jackson was inaugurated president of the United States.
Among the most important measures which engaged the attention of the twenty-first congress, were, the modification of the tariff; Indian affairs; internal improvements; and the renewal of the charter of the United States bank. It was not until 1832 that a memorial came before congress for the renewal of the charter of the United States bank. A bill to that effect passed both houses of congress; but on the 10th of July it was returned by the president with objections. The policy of making appropriations for internal improvements was adopted during Mr. Jefferson’s term of office, and had continued through all succeeding administrations. To this policy General Jackson was opposed, and accordingly returned, with his veto, several bills making such appropriations. In 1832, the hostility of the south to the protective tariff assumed in South Carolina an attitude dangerous to the peace of the country. A convention of delegates assembled at Columbia, November 24; pronounced the acts of congress imposing duties for protection unconstitutional, and of no binding force in that state; and that it was the duty of the state legislature to pass laws to prevent the payment or enforcement of such duties. The remedy thus proposed received the name of nullification. President Jackson immediately issued a proclamation, containing an admirable exposition of the principles and powers of the general government, and expressing a firm determination to maintain the laws. This only increased the exasperation in South Carolina: the governor of the state, by the authority of the legislature, issued a counter-proclamation, urging the people to be faithful to their primary allegiance to the state, and to resist the general government in any attempt to enforce the tariff laws. General orders were also issued to raise volunteers for repelling invasion, and supporting the rights of the state. General Jackson hereupon addressed a message to congress recommending such measures as would enable the executive to suppress the spirit of insubordination, and sustain the laws of the United States.
Everything thus betokened a civil war. But an appeal to South Carolina by the general assembly of Virginia, and the passage of a bill modifying the tariff (introduced by Henry Clay, and commonly known as the ‘compromise act’), joined with a manifestation of firmness and energy on the part of the executive, served to allay the ferment in South Carolina, and led to a repeal of the nullifying ordinances.
On the 4th of March, 1833, Andrew Jackson entered on a second term of office. The charter of the United States bank being about to expire, the president who had before expressed to Congress his doubts of the expediency of continuing that institution the depositary of the funds of the United States, directed the secretary of the treasury, Mr. Duane, to remove the government deposits from the bank. This Mr. Duane declined to do. He was immediately removed from office by the president; and Mr. Taney was appointed in his place, by whom the deposits were removed, and placed in the custody of several State banks. This measure was strongly censured by a resolution which passed the senate, June 9, 1834.
The country was now disturbed with serious apprehensions of a collision with France. By a treaty, negotiated in 1831, by Mr. Rives, the French government had agreed to make indemnity for spoliations committed on American commerce during the reign of Napoleon; but it had failed to fulfill its stipulations. In December, 1834, the president recommended reprisals upon French commerce. This was deemed by Congress not expedient at present. Happily, however, the danger of hostile collision was removed in the course of the next year by the action of the French government in making provision to fulfill its stipulations.
The most important act of the first session of the twenty-fourth Congress, which began December 7th, 1835, was a law directing the deposit, under certain regulations, of the moneys of the United States in several of the State banks, and distributing the surplus revenue among the several States.
In December, 1835, one of the most destructive fires on record occurred in the city of New York. The amount of property destroyed is computed not to have fallen much short of twenty millions of dollars, without estimating the injury and loss from suspension and derangement of business.
Near the close of this year, the Seminole Indians, refusing to remove from Florida to the lands appropriated for them west of the Mississippi, the country became involved in a war with them; and it was not until 1842 that they were finally subdued and sent west.
On the 11th of July, 1836, the receivers of public money were instructed, by a circular from the treasury department, to receive nothing but gold and silver in payment for public lands.
On the 16th of January, 1837, the ‘expunging resolution’ (so called) introduced by Mr. Benton, passed the senate by a small majority. By this act the resolution of the senate passed June 9, 1834――censuring the president for removing Mr. Duane, and ordering the withdrawal of the United States deposits from the bank of the United States――was expunged from the journal of the senate. Against this proceeding, Mr. Webster, of Massachusetts, in behalf of himself and his colleagues, read a solemn protest.
On the 4th of March, 1837, Martin Van Buren became president of the United States. Mr. Van Buren’s administration was, in its general policy, a continuation of that of his predecessor. Scarcely, however, had he entered upon office, when the country was overwhelmed by one of the most severe commercial revulsions ever known. For several years previous, the wildest spirit of speculation had prevailed throughout the country. Vast public works were undertaken by States and chartered companies; immense importations of foreign goods were made; and real estate, especially lots in cities and towns, went up a hundred fold beyond its intrinsic value. The multitude of State banks that had been chartered, after the expiration of the charter of the United States bank, and the consequent excessive expansion of the paper currency, had contributed to increase the spirit of speculation. At length a crisis came; and the revulsion was proportionately severe. Some idea of it may be formed from the fact that a list of failures in the city of New York (including only the more considerable, and omitting hundreds of less importance), shows a total amount of more than sixty millions of dollars. All credit, all confidence was at an end. On the 10th of May, all the banks of the city of New York suspended specie payments, and the suspension became general throughout the country. The general government became involved in the universal embarrassment――the banks in which its deposits were placed having stopped in the general suspension. The government still insisted, however, upon all postages and duties being paid in specie or its equivalent, and even refused its own checks and drafts when offered in payment of custom-house bonds. In this state of things, the president convoked an extra session of Congress, which began on the 4th of September. Agreeably to the recommendation of the executive, as measures for the immediate relief of the general government, Congress passed a law postponing to the 1st of January, 1839, the payment to the States of the fourth installment of the surplus revenue; and authorizing the issue of ten millions of treasury notes, to be receivable in payment of public dues. The president also recommended the ‘separation of the fiscal operations of the government from those of corporations or individuals.’ A bill in accordance with this recommendation――commonly called the sub-treasury bill, placing the public money in the hands of certain receivers-general, subject to the order and control of the treasurer of the United States――passed the senate, but was lost in the house.
At the next regular session of congress (December, 1837――July, 1838), a reissue of treasury notes was authorized. The sub-treasury system was again urged upon the attention of congress, but was not adopted. On the 13th of August, 1838, the banks throughout the country generally resumed specie payments: but in October following, the banks of Philadelphia again suspended, and their example was followed by the banks in Pennsylvania, and in all the states south and west. The banks of New York and New England continued to pay specie. The twenty-sixth congress commenced its first session December 2d, 1839. Among its acts, two only need be mentioned: one for taking the sixth census of the United States; the other, ‘for the collection, safe keeping, transfer, and disbursement, of the public revenue’――being the sub-treasury system so earnestly recommended by the president. At the second session of this congress, nothing was done of sufficient importance to find a place in this sketch.
The administration of Mr Van Buren was drawing to a close. He was a candidate for reëlection; William Henry Harrison, of Ohio, was the candidate of the opposition. After a contest unprecedented for intensity of political excitement, Mr. Van Buren was defeated.
On the 4th of March, 1841, William Henry Harrison was inaugurated president of the United States. Scarcely had the new president entered upon his office, and organized his administration by the appointment of his cabinet, when he was stricken with sickness; and on the 4th April, one month from the day of his inauguration, he expired. ‘In death, as in life, the happiness of his country was uppermost in his thoughts.’
By the death of General Harrison, John Tyler, of Virginia, the vice president, became, according to the constitution, president of the United States. The passage of a general bankrupt law was one of the earliest measures passed by congress. This law was, however, subsequently repealed. The tariff was modified with a view to further protection of American industry.
Among the most memorable events of this administration is the treaty of Washington, concluded in September, 1842, between Great Britain and the United States, by Lord Ashburton and Daniel Webster, by which the differences about the boundary line between Maine and Lower Canada, long a matter of dispute and ill-blood, were amicably and satisfactorily adjusted.
The disturbances in Rhode Island are a less agreeable subject of record; though happily the apprehensions they excited have been dispelled. In 1841, a convention of inhabitants of Rhode Island framed a new constitution, giving the right of suffrage (which under the existing government was extremely limited) to all free white inhabitants; and proceeded to organize a new government under this constitution. They elected a legislative body, and chose Thomas W. Dorr governor of the state. All these proceedings were considered as unlawful and revolutionary by those opposed to them, inasmuch as they had taken place without any legal warrant, and without being in any way initiated by the lawful and actual government. A civil war seemed inevitable. The legal government applied to the president of the United States, who detached several companies of troops to Newport to await events. Dorr mustered a considerable force of armed men, with two pieces of artillery, and made an ineffectual attempt to gain possession of the arsenal at Providence. Shortly after, he took a position at Chepachet, where his force was increased by volunteers from New York and other states. Upon the approach of a body of the state militia, under General M’Neil, Dorr and his party broke ground and fled, June 25th, 1842. His government fell to pieces.
On the 4th of March, 1845, James K. Polk was inaugurated president. The most important event of this year was the voluntary annexation of Texas to the American Union. In 1846, a war broke out between Mexico and the United States. A rapid succession of brilliant victories by the troops under Generals Taylor and Scott, soon placed the capital and all the strongholds of Mexico in the hands of the victors; but the power to dictate the terms of a peace were used with moderation. The government of the United States assumed the payment of all the claims of its own citizens against Mexico, and agreed to pay $15,000,000 for a boundary line beginning at the mouth of the Rio Grande, then up that stream to the southern boundary of New Mexico, then across to the river Gila, and down to its mouth; with free navigation to the Gulf of California, and thence across to the Pacific. The treaty was concluded May 30th, 1848. In the same year gold was first discovered in the newly-acquired territory of California.
On the 4th of March, 1849, Gen. Zachary Taylor was inaugurated president of the United States. He died in July, 1850, and was succeeded by the vice-president, Millard Fillmore. In September, 1850, California was admitted into the Union. On the 4th of March, 1853, Franklin Pierce was inaugurated president. The ‘Gadsden Treaty,’ by which the Mesilla Valley was acquired from Mexico, was made Dec. 30, in the same year. By act of June 29, 1854, $10,000,000 were appropriated to carry out the treaty; $7,000,000 to be paid upon exchange of ratifications, and $3,000,000 as soon as the boundary line should be surveyed and established.
Thus have been briefly sketched the leading events, political and civil, of the history of the United States, from the first feeble and scattered colonial establishments to the formation of a great and prosperous nation. The great problem of the possibility of a permanent and well-ordered republic, on so extensive a scale, doubtless yet remains to be solved. It depends on the INTELLIGENCE and VIRTUE of the people, whether it shall be solved as the friends of free institutions desire. Theoretically the most perfect of all forms of human government, it requires, beyond any other, the presence of these conditions to preserve it from becoming practically the worst.
DEPARTMENT OF BIOGRAPHY.
HERNANDO CORTEZ.
The portion of the new world earliest colonized by the Spaniards was the Island of St. Domingo, Hayti, or Hispaniola, discovered by Columbus in his first voyage in the year 1492. For nearly twenty years this island was the only colony of importance held by the Spaniards in the new world; here alone did they occupy lands, build towns, and found a regular commonwealth. Cuba, although the second of the islands discovered by Columbus, remained long uncolonized; indeed it was not till the year 1509 that it was circumnavigated, and ascertained to be an island. At length, in 1511, Don Diego Columbus, the great admiral’s son, governor of Hispaniola, despatched a force of three hundred men, under Don Diego Velasquez, to take possession of the island. Velasquez soon subdued the island, the natives of which offered but little resistance, and he was shortly afterwards appointed governor, subordinate to the governor of Hispaniola. Ambitious of sharing in the glory to be derived from the discovery of new countries, Velasquez fitted out one or two expeditions, which he despatched westward, to explore the seas in that direction. In one of these expeditions, which set out in 1517, commanded by a rich colonist called Cordova, the peninsula of Yucatan was discovered, and the existence of a large and rich country called Culua or Mexico ascertained. Elated with this discovery, Velasquez fitted out another expedition under his nephew, Juan de Grijalva, who leaving Cuba in April 1518, spent five months in cruising along the newly-discovered coast, and trafficking with the natives for gold trinkets and cotton cloths, very skillfully manufactured. The result of this expedition was the importation to Cuba of gold and jewels to the amount of twenty thousand pesos, or upwards of fifty thousand pounds.
Delighted with this success, Velasquez wrote home to Spain announcing his discovery, and petitioning for authority from the king to conquer and colonize the country which his subordinates, Cordova and Grijalva, had discovered. Without waiting, however, for a reply to his petition, he commenced fitting out a much larger squadron than either of the two former; and this he placed under the command of Hernando Cortez, a respectable Spanish hidalgo, or gentleman, residing in the island, and who was at this time thirty-three years of age.
Cortez proceeded with the greatest activity in making his preparations. ‘Borrowing money for the pupose,’ says Bernal Diaz, the gossiping chronicler of the Conquest, ‘he caused to be made a standard of gold and velvet, with the royal arms and a cross embroidered thereon, and a Latin motto, the meaning of which was, ‘Brothers, follow this holy cross with true faith, for under it we shall conquer.’ It was proclaimed by beat of drum and sound of trumpet, that all such as entered the service in the present expedition should have their shares of what gold was obtained, and grants of land, as soon as the conquest was effected. The proclamation was no sooner made than, by general inclination as well as the private influence of Cortez, volunteers offered themselves everywhere. Nothing was to be seen or spoken of but selling lands to purchase arms and horses, quilting coats of mail, making bread, and salting pork for sea-store. Above three hundred of us assembled in the town of St. Jago.’ These preparations were likely to be interrupted. Velasquez, ruminating the probable consequences of the expedition, had begun to repent of having appointed Cortez to the command, and was secretly plotting his removal. Cortez, perceiving these symptoms, determined to outwit his patron. Accordingly, on the night of the 18th of November 1518――having warned all the captains, masters, pilots, and soldiers to be on board, and having shipped all the stores that had been collected――Cortez set sail from the port of St. Jago without announcing his intention to Velasquez, resolving to stop at some of the more westerly ports of the island for the purpose of completing his preparations, where he would be beyond the reach of the governor. Nothing could exceed the rage of Velasquez at the sudden departure of Cortez. He wrote to the commandants of two towns at which he learned that the fleet had put in for recruits and provisions, to seize Cortez, and send him back; but such was the popularity of Cortez, that both were afraid to make the attempt.
At last all was ready, and Cortez finally set sail from Cuba on the 18th of February 1519. The expedition, which consisted of eleven vessels, most of them small, and without decks, met with no disaster at sea, but arrived safely at the island of Cozumel, off the coast of Yucatan, after a few days’ sail. Here Cortez landed, to review his troops. They consisted of five hundred and fifty-three soldiers, not including the mariners, who amounted to one hundred and ten. They possessed sixteen horses, some of them not very serviceable, ten brass field-pieces, four smaller pieces called falconets, and thirty-two cross-bows; the majority of the soldiers being armed with ordinary steel weapons. Attending on the army were about two hundred Cuba Indians, and some Indian women. And as religion in those days sanctioned military conquest, there were in addition two clergymen――Juan Diaz, and Bartholomew de Olmedo.
For nine or ten days the Spaniards remained at Cozumel, making acquaintance with the natives, who were very friendly. Here Cortez, whose zeal for the Catholic religion was one of the strongest of his feelings, made it one of his first concerns to argue with the natives, through an interpreter, on the point of their religion. He even went so far as to demolish their idols before their eyes, and erect an altar to the Virgin on the spot where they had stood. The natives were horror-struck, and seemed at first ready to fall upon the Spaniards, but at length they acquiesced.
While at Cozumel, Cortez had the good fortune to pick up a Spaniard, who, having been wrecked in his passage from Darien to Hispaniola in the year 1511, had for seven years been detained as a slave among the Indians of Yucatan. The name of this poor man was Jeronimo de Aguilar; he had been educated for the church; and as he could speak the language of Yucatan, his services as an interpreter were likely to be very valuable. On the 4th of March 1519, the fleet, consisting of eleven vessels, commanded respectively by Cortez, Pedro de Alvarado, Alonzo Puerto Carrero, Francisco de Montejo, Christoval de Olid, Diego de Ordaz, Velasquez de Leon, Juan de Escalante, Francisco de Morla, Escobar, and Gines Nortes, set sail from Cozumel, and on the 13th it anchored at the mouth of the river Tabasco or Grijalva, flowing into the south of the Bay of Campeachy.
The expedition had now reached the scene of active operations; it had arrived on the coast of the American continent. Cortez does not appear to have been naturally a bloodily-disposed man. He was only what a perverted education and the vices of his times had made him――a man full of mighty notions of the Spanish authority; of its right to take, by foul or fair means, any country it liked; and not without an excuse from religion to rob and kill the unfortunate natives who dared to defend their territories.
We have now therefore, to record the beginning of a most unjust and merciless war of aggression. As Cortez, with his followers, sailed up the river as far as Tabasco, he everywhere observed the natives preparing to repel his attack, and at length he was brought into collision with them――of course overpowering them by the force of arms, with immense slaughter. On reaching Tabasco, his soldiers fought their way through dense masses of Indians, who discharged among them perfect clouds of arrows and stones. Pushing through the streets, which were lined with houses, some of mud, and some of stone, the victors reached a large open square in the centre, where temples of large size were erected. Here the troops were drawn up; and Cortez, advancing to a large ceiba-tree which grew in the middle, gave it three slashes with his sword, and took possession of the city and country in the name of his royal master Don Carlos, king of Castile.
Next day another battle was fought between the Spaniards and the Tabascans on the plain of Ceutla, a few miles distant from the city. For an hour the Spanish infantry fought in the midst of an ocean of enemies, battling on all sides, beating one wave back, only that another might advance――a little islet encircled by the savage breakers. At length, with the assistance of their horse――a terrible sight to the Indians――the Spaniards were victorious. The spirit of the Tabascans was now completely subdued. Their chiefs came to the camp of Cortez with faces and gestures expressive of contrition, and brought him presents of fowls, fish, maize, and numerous gold toys representing many kinds of animals in miniature. For the horses, they brought a feast of turkeys and roses! They also gave Cortez twenty Indian girls to attend the army. To his inquiries respecting the country whence they obtained the gold, they replied by repetitions of the words ‘Culua’ and ‘Mexico,’ and pointing to the west. Having obtained all the information the Tabascans could give him, Cortez resolved to proceed on his voyage. Accordingly, after a solemn mass, which the Indians attended, the armament left Tabasco, and after a short sail, arrived off the coast of St. Juan de Ulua, the site of the modern Vera Cruz. It was on Holy Thursday (April 20th), in the year 1519, that they arrived at the port of St. Juan de Ulua, the extreme eastern province of the Mexican dominions properly so called. The royal flag was floating from the mast of Cortez’s ship. The Spaniards could see the beach crowded with natives, who had come down to gaze at the strange ‘water-houses,’ of which they had formerly seen specimens. At length a light pirogue, filled with natives, some of them evidently men of rank, pushed off from the shore, and steered for the ship of Cortez. The Indians went on board without any symptoms of fear, and, what was more striking, with an air of ease and perfect good-breeding. They spoke a different language from that of the inhabitants of Cozumel or the Tabascans――a language, too, which Aguilar did not understand. Fortunately, one of the twenty Indian girls presented by the Tabascans to the Spaniards was a Mexican by birth. This girl, whose Spanish name of Donna Marina is imperishably associated with the history of the conquest of Mexico, was the daughter of a chief, but, by a singular course of events, had become a slave in Tabasco. She had already attracted attention by her beauty, sweetness, and gentleness, and she had been mentioned to Cortez. Her services now became valuable. The Mexican was her native language; but by her residence in Tabasco, she had acquired the Tabascan, which language was also familiar to Aguilar. Interpreting, therefore, what the Mexicans said into Tabascan to Aguilar, Aguilar in turn interpreted the Tabascan into Spanish; and thus, though somewhat circuitously, Cortez could hold communication with his visitors.
The Aztec visitors who came on board the ship of Cortez, informed him that they were instructed by the governor of the province to ask what he wanted on their coast, and to promise that whatever he required should be supplied. Cortez replied that his object was to make the acquaintance of the people of those countries, and that he would do them no injury. He then presented them with some beads of cut glass, and after an entertainment of wine, they took their departure, promising that Teuthlille, the governor of the province under their great emperor, should visit him the next day.
Next day, Friday the 21st of April 1519, Cortez landed with his troops, and had an interview with Teuthlille, who received the visitors with suspicion; and this feeling was not lessened by the parade of mounted dragoons and firing of guns with which the Spanish commander thought fit to astonish him and the other natives. Sketches were taken of the appearance of the strangers, in order to be sent to Montezuma, the king of the country, who was likewise to be informed that the white men who had arrived on his coast desired to be allowed to come and see him in his capital.
Here we pause to present a short account of the Mexican empire, in which Cortez had landed; also of the character and government of this monarch, Montezuma, whom the Spaniards expected soon to be permitted to visit.
If a traveler, landing on that part of the coast of the Mexican gulf where Cortez and his Spaniards landed three hundred and thirty years ago, were to proceed westward across the continent, he would pass successively through three regions or climates. First he would pass through the tierra caliente, or hot region, distinguished by all the features of the tropics――their luxuriant vegetation, their occasional sandy deserts, and their unhealthinesss at particular seasons. After sixty miles of travel through this tierra caliente, he would enter the tierra templada, or temperate region, where the products of the soil are such as belong to the most genial European countries. Ascending through it, the traveler at last leaves wheat-fields beneath him, and plunges into forests of pine, indicating his entrance into the tierra fria, or cold region, where the sleety blasts from the mountains penetrate the very bones. This tierra fria constitutes the summits of part of the great mountain range of the Andes, which traverses the whole American continent. Fortunately, however, at this point the Andes do not attain their greatest elevation. Instead of rising, as in some other parts of their range, in a huge perpendicular wall or ridge, they here flatten and widen out, so as to constitute a vast plateau, or table-land, six or seven thousand feet above the level of the sea. On this immense sheet of table-land, stretching for hundreds of miles, the inhabitants, though living within the tropics, enjoy a climate equal to that of the south of Italy; while their proximity to the extremes both of heat and cold enables them to procure, without much labor, the luxuries of many lands. Across the table-land there stretches from east to west a chain of volcanic peaks, some of which are of immense height, and covered perpetually with snow.
This table-land was known in the Mexican language by the name of the plain of Anahuac. Near its centre is a valley of an oval form, about two hundred miles in circumference, surrounded by a rampart of porphyritic rock, and overspread for about a tenth part of its surface by five distinct lakes or sheets of water. This is the celebrated valley of Mexico――called a valley only by comparison with the mountains which surround it, for it is seven thousand feet above the level of the sea. Round the margins of the five lakes once stood numerous cities the relics of which are yet visible; and on an islet in the middle of the largest lake stood the great city of Mexico, or Tenochtitlan, the capital of the empire which the Spaniards were now invading, and the residence of the Mexican emperor, Montezuma.
The origin of the Mexicans is a question of great obscurity――a part of the more extensive question of the manner in which America was peopled. According to Mr. Prescott, the latest and one of the best authorities on the subject, the plains of Aanahuac were overrun, previous to the discovery of America, by several successive races from the north-west of the continent where it approaches Asia. Thus, in the thirteenth century, the great table-land of central America was inhabited by a number of races and sub-races, all originally of the same stock, but differing from each other greatly in character and degree of civilization, and engaged in mutual hostilities. The cities of these different races were scattered over the plateau, principally in the neighborhood of the five lakes. Tezcuco, on the eastern bank of the greatest of the lakes, was the capital of the Acolhuans; and Tenochtitlan, or Mexico, founded in 1325, on an island in the same lake, was the capital of the Aztecs.
In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the dominant race in the plains of Anahuac was the Acolhuans, or Tezcucans, represented as a people of mild and polished manners, skilled in the elegant arts and possessing literary habits and tastes――the Athenians, if we may so call them, of the new world. The most celebrated of the Tezcucan sovereigns was Nezahualcoyotl, who reigned early in the fifteenth century. By this prince a revolution was effected in the political state of the valley of Anahuac. He procured the formation of a confederacy between Tezcuco and the two neighboring friendly cities of Mexico and Tlacopan, by which they bound themselves severally to assist each other when attacked, and to carry on wars conjointly. In this strange alliance Tezcuco was the principal member, as being confessedly the most powerful state; Mexico stood next; and lastly Tlacopan, as being inferior to the other two.
Nezahualcoyotl died in 1470, and was succeeded on the Tezcucan throne by his son Nezahualpilli. During his reign the Tezcucans fell from their position as the first member of the triple confederacy which his father had formed, and gave place to the Aztecs or Mexicans. These Aztecs had been gradually growing in consequence since their first arrival in the valley. Decidedly inferior to the Tezcucans in culture, and professing a much more bloody and impure worship, they excelled them in certain qualities, and possessed, on the whole, a firmer and more compact character. If the Tezcucans were the Greeks, the Aztecs were the Romans of the new world. Under a series of able princes they had increased in importance, till now, in the reign of Nezahualpilli, they were the rivals of their allies, the Tezcucans, for the sovereignty of Anahuac.
In the year 1502, a vacancy occurred in the throne of Tenochtitlan, or Mexico. The election fell on Montezuma II, the nephew of the deceased monarch, a young man who had already distinguished himself as a soldier and a priest or sage, and who was noted, as his name――Montezuma (sorrowful man)――implied, for a certain gravity and sad severity of manner. The first years of Montezuma’s reign were spent in war. Carrying his victorious arms as far as Nicaragua and Honduras in the south, and to the shores of the Mexican gulf in the east, he extended the sovereignty of the triple confederacy, of which he was a member, over an immense extent of territory. Distant provinces he compelled to pay him tribute; and the wealth of Anahuac flowed from all directions towards the valley of Mexico. Haughty and severe in his disposition, and magnificent in his tastes, he ruled like an Oriental despot over the provinces which he had conquered; and the least attempt at rebellion was fearfully punished, captives being dragged in hundreds to the capital to be slaughtered on the stone of human sacrifice in the great war temple. Nor did Montezuma’s own natural-born subjects stand less in dread of him. Wise, liberal, and even generous in his government, his inflexible justice, and his lordly notions of his own dignity, made him an object less of affection than of awe and reverence. In his presence his nobles spoke in whispers; in his palace he was served with a slavish homage; and when he appeared in public, his subjects vailed their faces, as unworthy to gaze upon his person. The death of Nezahualpilli, in 1516, made him absolute sovereign in Anahuac. On the death of that king, two of his sons, Cacama and Ixtlilxochitl, contended for the throne of Tezcuco. Montezuma sided with Cacama; and the dispute was at length ended by a compromise between the two brothers, by which the kingdom was divided into two parts――Cacama obtaining the southern half with the city of Tezcuco, and Ixtlilxochitl the northern half.
Thus, at the period of the arrival of the Spaniards, Montezuma was absolute sovereign of nearly the whole of that portion of central America which lies between the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific Ocean――the kings of Tezcuco and Tlacopan being nominally his confederates and counselors, according to the ancient treaty of alliance between the three states, but in reality his dependents. The spot where Cortez had landed was in one of the maritime provinces of Montezuma’s dominions.
It is a singular but well-authenticated fact, that at the time the Spaniards landed in America a general expectation prevailed among the natives of the arrival of a mysterious race of white men from the East, who were to conquer the country. This was especially the case in Mexico. There was a tradition among the Mexicans that, some ages before the arrival of the Spaniards, and while yet the Aztec empire was in its infancy, there appeared in Anahuac a divine personage called Quetzalcoatl. He was a man of benevolent aspect, tall in stature, with a white complexion, long dark hair, and a flowing beard; and he came from the East. He resided in Anahuac for many years, teaching the Mexicans numerous arts and sciences, and reforming their manners; and under his care the country flourished and became happy. At length some difference arose between him and the Mexicans, and they no longer paid respect to the words of the good Quetzalcoatl. He then announced to them that he was going to depart from their country. Proceeding eastward, delaying a little while at Cholula, a city which ever afterwards was regarded as sacred, he arrived at the sea-shore. Embarking on board a little skiff made of serpents’ skins, he pushed out to sea, and as the Mexicans strained their eyes after him, he disappeared in the distance, going, as it seemed, to the East. Before he departed, however, he delivered a prophecy, that at some future time people of his race, with white complexions like his, would come from the East to conquer and possess the country.
The tradition of Quetzalcoatl’s prophecy was rife among the natives of Anahuac when Cortez arrived, and it was with a kind of religious awe that Montezuma and his people heard of the arrival of the white men in their ‘water-houses.’ Cortez and his men constituted, as we have seen, this body. Teuthlille’s messengers, announcing their arrival, had already reached Montezuma; and he was deliberating in what manner he should receive the strangers. In order to learn his decision, let us return to the Spaniards on the sea-coast.
The Spaniards, supplied by the natives with plenty of everything which they required, were waiting the return of the messengers to Montezuma. After six days they returned, accompanied by Teuthlille. They bore with them a splendid present from Montezuma to the Spanish emperor. It consisted of loads of finely-wrought cotton, ornamented with featherwork; and a miscellaneous collection of jewels and articles of gold and silver, richly carved, of which the most attractive were two circular plates as large as carriage-wheels, one of gold, valued at more than fifty thousand pounds, and intended to represent the sun; the other of silver, and representing the moon. As they gazed on the kingly present, the Spaniards could scarcely contain their raptures. The message which accompanied it, however, was less satisfactory. Montezuma was happy to hear of the existence of his brother, the king of Spain, and wished him to consider him as his friend; he could not, however, come to see the Spaniards, and it was too far for them to come and visit him. He therefore hoped they would depart, and carry his respects to his brother, their monarch.
To this Cortez, thanking Montezuma for his present, replied that he could not leave the country without being able to say to his king that he had seen Montezuma with his own eyes; and the ambassadors again departed, carrying a sorry present from Cortez to Montezuma. After another interval of six days they returned, with another gift little inferior in value of the former, and informed Cortez that the great Montezuma had received his present with satisfaction, but that, as to the interview, he could not permit any more to be said on the subject. Cortez, though greatly mortified, thanked them politely, and returned to Montezuma a second message to the same effect as the former, but couched in more decided language. The Mexicans withdrew in distrust, and ceased to barter with the Spaniards, or to bring them supplies.
Meanwhile differences had been springing up among the Spaniards themselves, the partisans of Velasquez insisting that they ought now to return to Cuba, and that it was folly to think of founding a settlement. Pretending to yield to the clamors of these persons, Cortez issued orders for embarkation on the following day. Immediately the other party, consisting of the friends of Cortez, flocked to his tent, and implored him not to give up the enterprise which had been so successfully begun. This was precisely what Cortez wished. Accordingly, after some delay he seemed to yield; and revoked the order for embarkation, he announced his willingness to found a settlement in the name of the Spanish sovereign. Forthwith the new city, although not a stone of it had yet been raised, and the site had alone been determined on, was named Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz――‘The Rich Town of the True Cross.’ Magistrates were immediately appointed in the king’s name; the two captains Puerto Carrero and Montejo, the latter a friend of Velasquez, being nominated alcaldes, and others to different offices. ‘Thus,’ says Mr. Prescott, ‘by a single stroke of the pen the camp was transformed into a civil community.’
At the first sitting of the new magistracy, Cortez appeard before it, with his cap doffed, and formally resigned his commission from Velasquez into its hands. He then withdrew; but after a short time was recalled, and informed that he had been unanimously appointed by them, in the king’s name, ‘Captain-General and Chief-Justice of the colony.’ Thus, by a clever stroke of policy, had Cortez shaken off all connection with Velasquez. He held his command now directly from the king, and could be superseded only by royal authority. The friends of Velasquez were at first furious with rage; but Cortez at length soothed them into acquiescence.
A little before the conclusion of these proceedings, an event of some consequence happened. This was the arrival in the Spanish camp of five Indians, differing in dress and language from the Mexicans. They informed Cortez that they were a deputation sent by the caçique of Cempoalla, a city at a little distance on the sea-coast, the capital of the Totonacs, a nation which had been recently conquered by Montezuma, and was now groaning under his yoke. They were sent by their caçique to beg a visit of the Spaniards to Campoalla. A light instantly flashed upon the mind of Cortez. He saw that Montezuma’s empire was not so firmly compacted as he had supposed, and that it might be possible to divide it against itself, and so overthrow it. He therefore dismissed the ambassadors kindly, and promised a speedy visit to Campoalla.
Accordingly, as soon as the disturbance which had arisen among his men was quashed, Cortez marched to Campoalla, a city not rich, but prettily built, and containing a population, as it appeared, of about thirty thousand inhabitants. He was cordially received by the caçique, a large and very corpulent man. Remaining some time in Campoalla and its neighborhood, while the city of Villa Rica was being built, the Spaniards soon gained the reverence and good-will of the inhabitants, the Totonacs, who willingly submitted themselves to the dominion of the distant monarch Don Carlos, of whom the Spaniards told them. Here the Spaniards were horrified by the symptoms of human sacrifice, which were perpetually visible in the temples――the blood-stained walls, and the fragments of human flesh which lay about; and, fired with religious enthusiasm, they resolved to put a stop to such practices by tearing down the idols. Cortez informed the caçique of his intention; but although the announcement filled him with speechless dismay, no opposition was offered, and the idols were broken in pieces, and burnt before the eyes of the Totonacs, while the priests went about shrieking like demons. ‘These priests,’ we are told, ‘were dressed in long black mantles, like sheets with hoods: their robes reached to their feet. Their long hair was matted together with clotted blood; with some it reached to the waist, and with others to the feet: their ears were torn and cut, and they smelt horribly, as it were of sulphur and putrid flesh.’
The destruction of their idols did not alienate the Totonacs from the Spaniards; on the contrary, it raised their opinion of them, inasmuch as they saw the gods patient under the indignity. The intercourse of the two parties, therefore, continued; and, by his frequent conversations with the caçique, Cortez gained greater insight every day into the condition of Montezuma’s empire.
By this time the town of Villa Rica had been nearly finished, and nothing remained to prevent the Spaniards from commencing their march into the interior. Before beginning it, however, Cortez deemed it advisable to send a report of his proceedings to Spain, to be laid before the king, knowing that Velasquez must have represented his conduct in very disadvantageous terms to the home government. Accordingly, Cortez drew up one letter, and the magistrates of the new colony another, detailing the whole of the incidents of the expedition down to the foundation of Villa Rica, and announcing that they were on the point of commencing their march into the heart of the country. To increase the effect of the letters, they were accompanied by nearly all the gold that had been collected, together with the splendid gifts of Montezuma, and such curiosities as might interest the learned of Spain. The business of carrying these letters to the king was intrusted to Montejo and Puerto Carrero, and they were instructed, above all, to endeavor to secure the appointment of Cortez as captain-general of the colony. On the 26th of July 1519, the little ship set sail, freighted with a more precious cargo than had ever yet been packed within the timbers of a vessel from the new world. The pilot was instructed to make direct for Spain, landing at no intermediate station, and especially avoiding Cuba.
The departure of this vessel seems to have raised thoughts of home in the minds of some of those who were left behind. A conspiracy was formed by some of the soldiers and sailors, along with the clergyman Diaz, to sieze a vessel and return to Cuba. The conspiracy was discovered; two of the ringleaders were hanged, and the rest whipped or confined. Foreseeing, however, that such conspiracies would be constantly occurring, unless effectual means were taken to prevent them, Cortez came to the resolution, almost unparalleled in the annals of heroism, of destroying the ships which had brought him to Mexico. Accordingly, taking counsel with a few of his most attached followers, he procured a report from the pilots that the vessels were not seaworthy, and caused them to be broken in pieces and sunk, before the majority were aware of his design. When the Spaniards thus saw themselves shut up in a strange and populous country, with no means of retreat, their first impulse was one of rage and despair, and Cortez had nearly fallen a sacrifice. As he foresaw, however, the daring act had the effect of bracing his men to a pitch of resolution all but supernatural. Besides, by the destruction of the fleet, he obtained a reinforcement of a hundred and ten men――the mariners formerly employed in the ships being now converted into soldiers, and very good ones, as it afterwards proved.
All being now ready, Cortez, leaving a considerable force as a garrison to the new settlement of Villa Rica, under the command of Juan de Escalante, set out from the territory of the Totonacs, on his march inland, on the 16th of August 1519. His army consisted of four hundred Spaniards on foot, and fifteen horse, accompanied by thirteen hundred Cempoallan warriors, and a thousand tamanes, or Indian body slaves, furnished by the caçique of Cempoalla, who were to carry the heavy burdens, and perform other laborious offices. Advancing through the tierra caliente, they began to ascend the mountains which separate it from the vast table-land of Anahuac. A few days’ march across the tierra templada and the tierra fria, brought the Spaniards to a small mountain province of Tlascala, situated about half-way between the sea-coast and the Mexican valley. The Tlascalans were a brave and high-spirited people, of the same race as the Aztecs. They had refused, however, to submit to the empire of Montezuma, and were the only people in Anahuac who bade defiance to his power, preferring poverty and hardship in their mountain home to the loss of independence. The government of Tlascala was a kind of feudalism. Four lords or caçiques held their courts in different quarters of the same city, independently of each other, and yet mutually allied; and under these four chieftans the Tlascalan population, nobles and commons, was ranged as subjects. On the approach of the Spaniards, a consultation was held among the Tlascalan lords and their counselors as to how the strangers should be received; some being inclined to welcome them, in hopes of being able, by their assistance, to cope with Montezuma; others maintaining that the Spaniards were enemies, who ought to be repulsed by all means. The latter opinion prevailed, and three desperate battles were fought between the Tlascalans under the command of Xicotencatl, a brave and able young chief, the son of one of the four caçiques, and the Spanish invaders. These engagements were far more serious than the battles which the Spaniards had fought with the Tabascans; and it required the utmost exertion of Castilian valor, directed by all the ability of Cortez, to gain the victory. But Indian courage against the flower of European chivalry――the maquahuitl, or war-club, dreadful instrument as it was, with its sharp flinty blades, against muskets and artillery――coatings of war-paint, or doublets of featherwork, against Spanish mail――were a very unequal contest; and, as usual, the losses of the Spaniards were as nothing compared with the apparent fierceness of the struggle. But how could the little army hope to advance through a country where such battles had to be fought at every step? If such were their reception by the Tlascalans, what might they not expect from the richer and more powerful Mexicans? Such were the reflections of the Spanish soldiery. The idea of their ever reaching Mexico, says Bernal Diaz, was treated as a jest by the whole army. Fortunately, when these murmurs were reaching their height, the Tlascalans submitted, and sent ambassadors to beg the friendship of the Spaniards; and on the 23d of September 1519 the Spaniards entered the city of Tlascala, a large and populous town, which Cortez compared to Grenada in Spain. Here they were cordially received by the four caçiques, and especially by the elder Xicotencatl; and in a short time an intimacy sprung up between the Tlascalans and the invaders, and a treaty was concluded, by which the Tlascalans bound themselves to assist the Spaniards throughout the rest of their expedition. Here, as elsewhere, Cortez showed his zeal for the Catholic faith by endeavoring to convert the natives; and it is probable that the same scenes of violence would have taken place at Tlascala as at Cempoalla, had not the judicious father Olmedo interfered to temper the more headlong fanaticism of the general.
While in Tlascala, Cortez received various embassies from provinces in the neighborhood anxious to secure his good-will. About the same time an embassy was received from Montezuma himself, entreating Cortez not to place any reliance upon the Tlascalans, whom he represented as treacherous barbarians; and now inviting him, in cordial terms, to visit his capital, pointing out the route through the city of Cholula as the most convenient. This route was accordingly adopted, and the Spaniards, accompanied by an army of six thousand Tlascalan warriors, advanced by it towards Mexico. Their approach gave great alarm, and Montezuma set on foot a scheme for their massacre at Cholula, which, however, was discovered by Cortez, who took a terrible vengeance on the sacred city. Montezuma, overawed, again made overtures of reconciliation, and promised the Spaniards an immense quantity of gold if they would advance no farther. This Cortez refused, and the Spanish army, with the Tlascalan warriors, left Cholula, and proceeded on their march, met everywhere by deputations from neighboring towns, many of which were disaffected to the government of Montezuma. The route of the army lay between two gigantic volcanic mountains, and the march, for a day or two, was toilsome, and bitterly cold. At last, ‘turning an angle of the sierra, they suddenly came on a view which more than compensated their toils. It was that of the valley of Mexico; which, with its picturesque assemblage of water, woodland, and cultivated plains, its shining cities and shadowy hills, were spread out like some gay and gorgeous panorama before them. Stretching far away at their feet were seen noble forests of oak, sycamore, and cedar; and beyond, yellow fields of maize, and the towering maguey, intermingled with orchards and blooming gardens. In the centre of the great basin were beheld the lakes, their borders thickly studded with towns and hamlets; and in the midst, like some Indian empress with her coronal of pearls, the fair city of Mexico, with her white towers and pyramidal temples, reposing, as it were, on the bosom of the waters――the far-famed “Venice of the Aztecs.”’
Descending into the valley, the Spaniards halted at Ajotzinco, a town on the banks of the southernmost of the five lakes. Meanwhile Montezuma was in an agony of indecision. When intelligence reached him that the Spaniards had actually descended into the valley, he saw that he must either face the strangers on the field of battle, or admit them into his capital. His brother, Cuitlahua, advised the former; but his nephew, Cacama, the young lord of Tezcuco, was of the contrary opinion, and Montezuma at length sent him to meet the Spaniards, and welcome them to his dominions. Cacama accordingly set out in state, and arrived at Ajotzinco just as the Spaniards were about to leave it. When he came into the presence of Cortez, he said to him, ‘Malintzin, here am I and these lords come to attend you to your residence in our city, by order of the great Montezuma.’ Cortez embraced the prince, and presented him with some jewels. After a while Cacama took his leave, and the Spaniards resumed their march. Traveling along the southern and western banks of Lake Chalco, they crossed the causeway which divides it from Lake Zochichalco, and advanced along the margin of the latter to the royal city of Iztapalapan, situated on the banks of the great Tezcucan lake over against Mexico. To the eyes of the Spaniards, all they saw in their journey seemed fairy land.
ENTRY INTO MEXICO――RESIDENCE THERE――DESCRIPTION OF THE CITY.
It was on the 7th of November, 1519, that the Spaniards arrived at Iztapalapan; and here they spent the night, lodged in magnificent palaces built of stone, the timber of which was cedar. From this position the eye could sweep over the whole expanse of the Tezcucan lake. Canoes of all sizes might be seen skimming along its surface, either near the middle, or close to the banks, where the thick woods came down to the water’s edge. Here also, moving slowly along the margin of the lake, might be seen a still stranger sight――the chinampas, or floating-gardens――little islands consisting of earth laid on rafts, planted with flowers, shrubs, and fruit-trees, and containing a small hut or cottage in the centre, occupied by the proprietor, who, by the means of a long pole, which he pushed against the bottom, could shift his little domain from place to place. But what fixed the eyes of the Spaniards above all else was the glittering spectacle which rose from the centre of the lake――the queenly city of Mexico, the goal of their hopes and wishes for many months past. In a few hours they would be within its precincts――a few hundred men shut up in the very heart of the great Mexican empire! What might be their fate there!
The islet on which Mexico was built was connected with the mainland by three distinct causeways of stone, constructed with incredible labor and skill across the lake, and intersected at intervals by drawbridges, through which canoes might pass and repass with ease. The causeway by which the Spaniards must pass connected the island with the southern bank of the lake, about half way across to which it branched off into two lines, one leading to the city of Cojohuacan, the other meeting the mainland at a point not far from Iztapalapan, where the Spaniards were quartered. This causeway was about eight yards wide, and capable of accommodating ten or twelve horsemen riding abreast. It was divided, as before-mentioned, by several drawbridges; a circumstance which the Spaniards observed with no small alarm, for they saw that, by means of these drawbridges, their communication with the mainland could be completely cut off by the Mexicans.
On the morning of the 8th of November, 1519, the army left Iztapalapan, and advanced along the causeway towards the capital. First went Cortez, with his small body of horse; next came the Spanish foot, amounting to not more than four hundred men; after them came the Indian tamanes, carrying the baggage; and last of all came the Tlascalan warriors, to the number of about five thousand. As they moved along the causeway, the inhabitants of the city crowded in myriads to gaze at them, some finding standing-room on the causeway itself, others skimming along the lakes in canoes, and clambering up the sides of the causeway. A little more than half way across, and at a distance of a mile and a half from the city, the branch of the causeway on which the Spaniards were marching was joined by the other branch; and here the causeway widened for a small space, and a fort or gateway was erected, called the Fort of Xoloc. On arriving at the gateway, the army was met by a long procession of Aztec nobles, richly clad, who came to announce the approach of the emperor himself to welcome the Spaniards to his capital. Accordingly, when the remainder of the causeway had been almost traversed, and the van of the army was near the threshold of the city, a train was seen advancing along the great avenue. ‘Amidst a crowd of Indian nobles, preceded by three officers of state bearing golden wands, the Spaniards saw the royal palanquin of Montezuma, blazing with burnished gold. It was borne on the shoulders of nobles, and over it a canopy of gaudy featherwork, powdered with jewels, and fringed with silver, and was supported by four attendants of the same rank. They were barefooted, and walked with a slow measured pace, and with eyes bent on the ground. When the train had come within a convenient distance, it halted; and Montezuma, descending from his litter, came forward, leaning on the arms of the lords of Tezcuco and Iztapalapan――the one his nephew, the other his brother. As the monarch advanced under the canopy, the obsequious attendants strewed the ground with cotton tapestry, that his imperial feet might not be contaminated by the rude soil. His subjects, of high and low degree, who lined the sides of the causeway, bent forward with their eyes fastened on the ground as he passed, and some of the humbler class prostrated themselves before him.’
Cortez and the Mexican emperor now stood before each other. When Cortez was told that the great Montezuma approached, he dismounted from his horse, and advanced towards him with much respect. Montezuma bade him welcome, and Cortez replied with a suitable compliment. After some ceremonies, and the exchange of presents, Montezuma and his courtiers withdrew, the Spaniards following. Advancing into the city, wondering at all they saw――the long streets, the houses which, in the line along which they passed, belonged mostly to the noble and wealthy Mexicans, built of red stone, and surmounted with parapets or battlements; the canals which here and there intersected the streets, crossed by bridges; and the large open squares which occurred at intervals――the Spaniards were conducted to their quarters, situated in an immense square in the centre of the city, adjoining the temple of the great Mexican war-god. Montezuma was waiting to receive them; and the Spaniards were surprised and delighted with the princely generosity with which he supplied their wants.
Next day Cortez paid a visit to Montezuma in his palace, attended by some of his principal officers. In the conversation which ensued, Cortez broached the topic of religion, and informed Montezuma ‘that we were all brothers, the children of Adam and Eve, and that as such, our emperor, lamenting the loss of souls in such numbers as those which were brought by the Mexican idols into everlasting flames, had sent us to apply a remedy thereto by putting an end to the worship of these false gods.’ These remarks seemed to displease Montezuma, who, however, made a polite reply. Day after day the intercourse between Cortez and Montezuma was renewed; the Spanish soldiers also became gradually familiar with the Mexicans. Bernal Diaz, the old soldier of Cortez, to whom we are indebted for the most minute and interesting account of the Conquest, thus describes Montezuma and his household: ‘The great Montezuma was at this time aged about forty years, of good stature, well-proportioned, and thin; his complexion was much fairer than that of the Indians; he wore his hair short, just covering his ears, with very little beard, well arranged, thin, and black. His face was rather long, with a pleasant countenance, and good eyes; gravity and good-humor were blended together when he spoke. He was very delicate and clean in his person, bathing himself every evening. He had a number of mistresses of the first families, and two princesses, his lawful wives. He had two hundred of his nobility as a guard, in apartments adjoining his own. They entered his apartment barefooted, their eyes fixed on the ground, and making three inclinations of the body as they approached him. In addressing him, they said, ‘Lord; my lord; great lord.’ His cooks had upward of thirty different ways of dressing meat, and they had earthen vessels so contrived as to keep it always hot. For the table of Montezuma himself above three hundred dishes were dressed, and for his guards above a thousand. It is said that at times the flesh of young children was dressed for him; but the ordinary meats were domestic fowls, pheasants, geese, partridges, quails, venison, Indian hogs, pigeons, hares, and rabbits, with many other animals and birds peculiar to the country. At his meals, in the cold weather, a number of torches of the bark of a wood which makes no smoke, and has an aromatic smell, were lighted; and, that they might not throw too much heat, screens ornamented with gold, and painted with figures of idols, were placed before them. Montezuma was seated on a low throne or chair, at a table proportioned to the height of his seat. The table was covered with white cloths and napkins, and four beautiful women presented him with water for his hands. Then two other women brought small cakes of bread; and when the king began to eat, a large screen of wood gilt was placed before him, so that people should not, during that time, see him. He was served on earthenware of Cholula, red and black. While the king was at table, no one of his guards, or in the vicinity of his apartment, dared for their lives make any noise. Fruit of all the kinds that the country produced was laid before him; he ate very little; but from time to time a liquor, prepared from cocoa, and of a stimulative quality, as we were told, was presented to him in golden cups. At different intervals during the time of dinner there entered certain Indians, hump-backed, very deformed and ugly, who played tricks of buffoonery; and others who, they said, were jesters. There was also a company of singers and dancers, who afforded Montezuma much entertainment. During the time Montezuma was at dinner, two very beautiful women were busily employed making small cakes with eggs, and other things mixed therein. These were delicately white; and when made, they presented them to him on plates covered with napkins. After he had dined, they presented to him three little canes, highly ornamented, containing liquid amber, mixed with an herb they call tobacco; and when he had sufficiently viewed and heard the singers, dancers, and buffoons, he took a little of the smoke of one of these canes, and then laid himself down to sleep; and thus his principal meal concluded.’
After describing other parts of Montezuma’s household, including a great aviary or collection of birds, and a menagerie, the chronicler gives us an account of Cortez’s first tour through the city, accompanied by Montezuma. They first visited the great bazaar or market, held in the western part of the city. ‘When we arrived there, we were astonished at the crowds of people, and the regularity which prevailed, as well as at the vast quantities of merchandise which those who attended us were assiduous in pointing out. Each kind had its particular place of sale, which was distinguished by a sign. The articles consisted of gold, silver, jewels, feathers, mantles, chocolate, skins, dressed and undressed, sandals, and other manufactures of the roots and fibres of nequen, and great numbers of male and female slaves, some of whom were fastened by the neck in collars to long poles. The meat market was stocked with fowls, game, and dogs. Vegetables, fruits, articles of food ready dressed, salt, bread, honey, and sweet pastry made in various ways, were also sold here. Other places in the square were appropriated to the sale of earthenware, wooden household furniture, such as tables and benches, firewood, paper, sweet canes filled with tobacco, mixed with liquid amber, copper axes and working-tools, and wooden vessels highly painted. Numbers of women sold fish, and little loaves made of a certain mud which they find in the lake, and which resembles cheese. The makers of stone-blades were busily employed shaping them out of the rough material; and the merchants who dealt in gold had the metal in grains, as it came from the mines, in transparent tubes, so that they could be reckoned; and the gold was valued at so many mantles, or so many xiquipils of cocoa, according to the size of the quills. The entire square was enclosed in piazzas, under which great quantities of grain were stored, and where were also shops for various kinds of goods. Courts of justice, where three judges sat to settle disputes which might arise in the market, occupied a part of the square, their under-officers, or policemen, being in the market inspecting the merchandise.’
Proceeding from the market-place through various parts of the city, the Spaniards came to the great teocalli, or temple, in the neighborhood of their own quarters. It was a huge pyramidal structure, consisting of five stories, narrowing above each other like the tubes of an extended spy-glass (only square in shape), so as to leave a clear pathway round the margin of each story. The ascent was by means of a stone stair, of a hundred and fourteen steps. Arrived at the summit, Cortez and his companions found it to be a large flat area, laid with stone; at one end of which they shuddered as they saw a block of jasper, which they were told was the stone on which the human victims were laid when the priests tore out their hearts to offer to their idols: at the other end was a tower of three stories, in which were the images of the two great Mexican deities Huitzilopochtli and Tezcatlipoca, and a variety of articles pertaining to their worship. ‘From the top of the temple,’ says Bernal Diaz, ‘we had a clear prospect of the three causeways by which Mexico communicated with the land, and we could now perceive that in this great city, and all the others of the neighborhood which were built in the water, the houses stood separate from each other, communicating only by small drawbridges and by boats, and that they were built with terraced tops. The noise and bustle of the market-place below us could be heard almost a league off; and those who had been at Rome and Constantinople said that, for convenience, regularity, and population, they had never seen the like.’ At the request of Cortez, Montezuma, though with apparent reluctance, led the Spaniards into the sanctuary or tower where the gods were. ‘Here,’ says Diaz, ‘were two altars, highly adorned with richly-wrought timbers on the roof, and over the altars gigantic figures resembling very fat men. The one on the right was their war-god, with a great face and terrible eyes. This figure was entirely covered with gold and jewels, and his body bound with golden serpents; in his right hand he held a bow, and in his left a bundle of arrows. Before the idol was a pan of incense, with three hearts of human victims, which were burning, mixed with copal. The whole of that apartment, both walls and floor, was stained with human blood in such quantity as to cause a very offensive smell. On the left was the other great figure, with a countenance like a bear, and great shining eyes of the polished substance whereof their mirrors are made. The body of this idol was also covered with jewels. An offering lay before him of five human hearts. In this place was a drum of most enormous size, the head of which was made of the skins of large serpents: this instrument, when struck, resounded with a noise that could be heard to the distance of two leagues, and so doleful, that it deserved to be named the music of the infernal regions.’
This state of things could not last. Cortez, of course, had no intention of leaving Mexico, now that he had made good his quarters in it; but as it was not to be expected that Montezuma and his subjects would continue their friendly intercourse with him if they supposed that he purposed to remain, he saw the necessity of taking some decided step to secure himself and his men against any outbreak which might occur. The step which he resolved upon in his own mind was the seizure of Montezuma. By having him in their power, he would be able, he imagined, to maintain a control over the whole population of the city――amounting, it is believed, to nearly three hundred thousand. Nor was a pretext wanting to give an appearance of justice to the daring act which they contemplated. Cortez had just received intelligence that a battle had been fought between the garrison which he had left at Villa Rica, and a body of Mexicans under the command of the Mexican governor of a province adjacent to the Spanish settlement. Although Cortez cared little for this occurrence, he resolved to avail himself of it for his purpose; so, after a night spent in prayer for the blessing of God on what he was about to do, he proceeded with five of his officers and the two interpreters, Donna Marina and Aguilar, to Montezuma’s palace. The monarch, as usual, received him kindly; but when Cortez, after upbraiding him with being the cause of the attack made on the Spanish garrison of Villa Rica, as well as with the attempt made by the Cholulans to arrest his own progress towards Mexico, informed him that he had come to make him prisoner, he could no longer contain him self, but gave full vent to his rage and astonishment. But the rage of an Indian prince was impotent against the stern resolutions of the European general; and as the helpless monarch gazed on the unyielding countenances of his visitors, whose fingers were playing with the hilts of their swords, his anger changed into terror: he was seized with a fit of trembling, and the tears gushed into his eyes. Without any resistance, he was removed in his royal litter to the Spanish quarters, giving it out to his nobles and subjects that he went voluntarily, on a visit to Cortez, and desiring them to remain quiet.
Another degradation awaited the unhappy monarch. He was obliged to surrender the governor and three other chiefs, who had led the attack on the garrison of Villa Rica; and these were burned alive, by the orders of Cortez, in front of Montezuma’s palace, the emperor himself being kept in irons while the execution was going on.
All this took place within ten days of the arrival of the Spaniards in Mexico; and for three or four months Montezuma continued a prisoner in the Spanish quarters. Here he was attended with the most profound respect, Cortez himself never approaching him without taking off his cap, and punishing severely every attempt on the part of any of his soldiers to insult the royal captive. Such instances, however, were very rare; for the kindly demeanor of Montezuma, his gentleness under his misfortunes, and, above all, his liberality to those about him, won the hearts of the Spaniards, and made him a general favorite. Nor did Montezuma make any attempt to regain his liberty. Attended by his officers as usual, he received deputations, and transacted business; amused himself by various Mexican games, and appeared to delight in the society of some of the Spaniards, for whom he had contracted a particular partiality.
The Spanish general was now absolute in Anahuac; Montezuma acted under his instructions; and officers were sent out in different directions to survey the country, and ascertain the situation and extent of the gold and silver mines, as if all belonged to the king of Spain. Nor was the formal cession of the kingdom by Montezuma long delayed. Assembling all his nobles at the instigation of Cortez, the Indian monarch addressed them, desiring them to concur with him in surrendering their empire to the Spaniards, who were to come from the rising sun. ‘“For eighteen years,” he said, “that I have reigned, I have been a kind monarch to you, and you have been faithful subjects to me; indulge me, then, with this last act of obedience.” The princes, with many sighs and tears, promised Montezuma, who was still more affected, that they would do whatever he desired. He then sent a message to Cortez, telling him that, on the ensuing day, he and his princes would tender their allegiance to his majesty, our emperor. This they accordingly did at the time appointed, in the presence of all our officers and many of our soldiers, not one of whom could refrain from weeping on beholding the agitation and distress of the great and generous Montezuma.’
Montezuma accompanied the surrender of his kingdon with the gift of an immense treasure, which he had concealed in an apartment within their quarters, desiring it to be sent to Spain, as tribute-money to King Charles from his vassal Montezuma. The sight of this treasure roused the avaricious passions of the Spanish soldiers, and they clamored for a division of the wealth which had been collected since their entrance into Mexico, Cortez was obliged to yield to their demand. The whole wealth amassed during their residence in Mexico amounted, according to Mr. Prescott’s calculation, to about seven millions of dollars of our money, including not only the gold cast into ingots, but also the various articles of jewelry, which were of too fine workmanship to be melted down. The mode of division was this:――First, his majesty’s fifth was set aside; next, a fifth of the remainder was set aside for Cortez; after that, all the debts of the expedition were to be discharged, excluding the amount vested in the expedition by Velasquez, the payment of agents in Spain, etc.; then the losses incurred in the expedition were to be made good, including the expense of the ships sunk off Villa Rica, the price of the horses killed, etc.; and lastly, certain individuals in the army, as the clergyman and the captains, were to receive larger allowances than the rest. ‘By the time all these drafts were made,’ says Bernal Diaz, ‘what remained for each soldier was hardly worth stooping for;’ in other words, instead of amounting to two or three thousand pounds, as they had expected, each soldier’s share came only to about three hundred pounds. Many refused to take their shares, complaining of injustice in the division, and it required all the skill and management of Cortez to soothe the spirits of the discontented. Not a few, it appeared in the end, were no richer for all the prize money they had obtained than when they left Cuba; for, as Bernal Diaz tells us, ‘deep gaming went on day and night with cards made out of the heads of drums.’
Only one source of discomfort now remained to Cortez. This was the continuance of the idolatrous worship of the Mexicans. This subject occupied his thoughts incessantly; and he could not persuade himself that his efforts would be meritorious in the eyes of God, or even that he could hope for permanent success, until the false gods of the Mexicans had been shattered in pieces, and their temples converted into Christian sanctuaries. Not only as a devout Catholic did he abominate the existence of a false worship in a country over which he had control, but, as a man, as a native of a civilized country, he shrunk in abhorrence from the bloody and sickening rites which formed part of the religion of the Mexicans――their human sacrifices――accompanied strangely enough, among a people so polished and so advanced in ingenious arts, by the practice of cannibalism. At length Cortez announced to Montezuma that he must allow at least a part of the great temple to be converted into a Christian place of worship. Montezuma had been a priest, and the proposal was perhaps the most shocking that could have been made to him. He gave his consent, however, and one of the sanctuaries on the top of the temple was purified, and an altar and a crucifix erected in it.
This last act filled up the measure of Mexican endurance. To see their monarch a prisoner, to surrender their kingdom and its treasures――these they could submit to; but could they sit tamely under an insult offered to their gods? Hither and thither though the city ran the priests, with haggard faces, and hair clotted with blood, stirring up the zeal of the inhabitants, and denouncing woes unless the Spaniards were expelled. The crisis was imminent, and every possible precaution was used to prevent a sudden surprise by the excited Mexicans.
It was now the month of May, 1520, and the Spaniards had been six months in the Mexican capital. Suddenly the little army was thrown into consternation by intelligence of an unexpected kind received by Cortez.
It will be remembered that, before advancing into the interior of the country, Cortez had dispatched a vessel to Spain with letters to the emperor, Charles V, and a quantity of treasures. Contrary to the instructions of Cortez, the vessel touched at Cuba on its voyage; and a sailor escaping, conveyed to Velasquez an account of all that had taken place in the expedition, down to the foundation of Villa Rica. The rage of Velasquez exceeded all bounds. He wrote letters to the home government, and also to the court of colonial affairs established in Hispaniola; and not content with this, he instantly began to fit out a second expedition, which was to proceed to Mexico, depose or decapitate Cortez, and seize the country for the Spanish sovereign in the name of the governor of Cuba. The fleet was larger, with one exception, than any yet fitted out for the navigation of the seas of the new world. It consisted of nineteen vessels, carrying upwards of a thousand foot soldiers, twenty cannons, eighty horsemen, a hundred and sixty musketeers and cross-bowmen, besides a thousand Indian servants――a force sufficient, as it seemed, to render all resistance on the part of Cortez hopeless. Velasquez at first intended to command the expedition in person; but, as he was too old and too unwieldy for such a laborious task, he intrusted it to Don Pamfilo de Narvaez, described as a man, about forty-two years of age, of tall stature, and large limbs, full face, red beard, and agreeable presence; very sonorous and lofty in his speech, as if the sound came out of a vault; a good horseman, and said to be valiant.’
The fleet anchored off the coast of Mexico, at St. Juan de Ulua, on the 23d of April, 1520. Here Narvaez received information which astonished him――that Cortez was master of the Mexican capital; that the Mexican emperor was his prisoner; that the country and its treasures had been surrendered to the Spanish sovereign; and that at present his rival was as absolute in it as if he were its monarch. This information only increased his anxiety to come to a collision with Cortez; and, with singular imprudence, he went about among the Indians, declaring, in a blustering manner, that Cortez was a rebel against his sovereign, and that he had come to chastise him, and to set Montezuma free.
Narvaez’s first step was to send three messengers, one of them a priest, to the garrison of Villa Rica, to summon them to surrender. The commandant of the garrison, appointed shortly after the death of Juan de Escalante, was Gonsalvo de Sandoval, a young officer, a native of the same town as Cortez, and who had already won the esteem of his general and of the whole army by his valor and services. When the messengers of Narvaez, arriving at Villa Rica, presented a copy of Narvaez’s commission, and summoned the garrison to surrender, Sandoval, without any ceremony, caused them to be seized, strapped to the backs of Indian porters, and instantly sent across the country to Mexico in charge of one or two soldiers, who carried a note to Cortez, informing him of what had happened. Cortez, after thoroughly gaining them over by kind words and presents, sent them back to sow the seeds of dissension in Narvaez’s army. At the same time he entered into a correspondence with Narvaez, which led to no definite result. As there was great danger that Narvaez would succeed in alienating the Cempoallans from Cortez, if he were permitted to remain in his present position, Cortez resolved to leave Mexico with a part of his men, march to the sea-coast, and, if necessary, give battle to Narvaez. This was a perilous step; but, in the circumstances, it was absolutely necessary.
Leaving a garrison of a hundred and forty men in Mexico, under the command of Pedro de Alvarado, who appeared by far the fittest person for so responsible a post, Cortez set out with the rest of his force, amounting to less than two hundred soldiers, only five of whom were cavalry, and by rapid marches reached the Totonac territories, where he was reinforced by Sandoval and his small body of men. Altogether, Cortez’s army did not amount to more than a fifth part of that of Narvaez. They were veterans in service, however, and, under such a leader as Cortez, were prepared to attempt impossibilities. Narvaez, in the meantime, was in close quarters at Cempoalla, aware that his rival was on his march, but little suspecting that he was so near. On the night of the 26th of May, 1520, Cortez and his brave little band, crossing with difficulty a swollen river which lay between them and their countrymen, advanced stealthily towards Narvaez’s quarters, surprised the sentinels, and shouting the watchword, ‘Espiritu Santo!’ dashed in among the half-awakened, half-armed foe. The struggle did not last long; for Sandoval, with a small body of picked men, springing up the stairs of the house where Narvaez was lodged, succeeded, after a hand to hand fight with the general and his followers, in making him prisoner, after he had lost an eye, and been otherwise severely wounded. On learning the fall of their leader, the rest yielded; and when daylight came, Cortez, ‘seated in an arm-chair, with a mantle of an orange color thrown over his shoulders, and surrounded by his officers and soldiers,’ received the salutations and the oaths of allegiance of all the followers of Narvaez. In his treatment of these new friends his usual policy was conspicuous: he plied them with flatteries, and loaded them with gifts, till his own veterans began to be envious. Thus, by a single bold stroke, which cost him but a few men, Cortez had crushed a formidable enemy, and increased his own force sixfold. Fortune favors the brave! His army now amounted to thirteen hundred men, exclusive of the garrison he had left in Mexico; and of these thirteen hundred nearly a hundred were cavalry. With such a force, he might now prosecute his designs in Mexico with every prospect of success, and bid defiance to all the efforts of the Mexicans to regain their independence.
He was disagreeably roused from these self-congratulations by intelligence from Mexico. Some difference had occurred between Pedro de Alvarado and the Mexicans, in consequence of which the latter had risen en masse, and were besieging the Spaniards in their quarters. Without loss of time he commenced his march towards the capital, leaving a hundred men at Villa Rica. At Tlascala he was joined by two thousand of his faithful mountain allies; and the whole army then pushed on for the Mexican valley, anxious to relieve Alvarado, whom the Mexicans were now trying to reduce by blockade. On the 24th of June they reached the great lake, and marched along the causeway without opposition, but amidst an ominous stillness. Alvarado clasped his general in his arms for joy; and now for the first time Cortez learned the origin of the revolt. Alvarado, suspecting some conspiracy among the Aztec nobles, had treacherously massacred a number of them collected at a religious festival, and the inhabitants had risen to take vengeance for the injury. Cortez sharply rebuked his officer for his misconduct; but the evil was already done, and to punish Alvarado would have been attended with no good effect. Moodily and bitterly, therefore, Cortez expended his vexation on the unhappy Mexican monarch, accusing him of being concerned in the insurrection, and calling upon him to check it, and procure provisions for the Spaniards. Montezuma complied as far as lay in his power: Cortez also used his best endeavors to allay the storm; and for a while it appeared as if their efforts were successful.
The calm was only temporary. The day after the arrival of Cortez, a soldier, who had been sent on an errand by Cortez, returned breathless and bloody to the Spanish quarters. He had been fallen upon by a multitude of Mexicans, who endeavored to drag him away in their canoes for sacrifice, and he had only escaped after a desperate struggle. The whole city, he said, was in arms; the drawbridges were broken down: and they would soon attack the Spaniards in their strong hold.
The news was too true. The Aztecs poured along the streets like a flood, approaching the square where the Spaniards were lodged, while the terraced roofs of all the houses in the vicinity were crowded with slingers and archers, ready to shower their missiles upon the besieged. And now commenced a struggle which lasted seven days and to which there is no parallel in history. Day after day the fighting was renewed, the Spaniards either making a sally upon the besiegers, or beating them back when they advanced to storm or set fire to their quarters. The only relaxation was at night, when the Mexicans generally drew off. The Spaniards were always victorious; but their losses were considerable in every action, and the perseverance of the Mexicans alarmed them. Instead of yielding to their first defeats, they seemed to act on the conviction that they must be defeated continually until the Spaniards were all slain. This resolution astonished Cortez, who till now had undervalued the courage of the Aztecs. His soldiers, especially those who had come into the country with Narvaez, heaped reproaches upon him; although when they saw his conduct in the fray――the bravery with which he would spur his horse into the thickest of the enemy, the generosity with which he would risk his own life to rescue a comrade from the hands of a crowd of Aztecs――their reproaches were lost in admiration.
Wearied out by his incessant efforts, and perceiving the hopelessness of continuing a contest against so many myriads of enemies――for recruits were flocking in from the neighboring country to assist the Mexicans against the common foe――Cortez resolved to try the effects of negotiation, and to employ Montezuma as his intercessor. At his request, therefore, Montezuma, dressed in his imperial robes, appeared on a terraced roof, where he was visible to the multitude gathered in the great square. A silence ensued, and Montezuma was parleying with four nobles who approached him, when suddenly a shower of stones and arrows fell on the spot where he was standing. The Spanish soldiers tried to interpose their bucklers; but it was too late; Montezuma fell to the ground, his head bleeding from the effects of a blow with a stone. He was immediately removed, and every means used for his recovery: nor was the wound of itself dangerous. But his kingly spirit had received a wound which no words could heal; he had been reviled and struck by his own subjects, among whom hitherto he had walked as a sacred being: he refused to live any longer. He tore the bandages from his head, and rejected all nourishment; and in a short time the Spaniards were informed that their unhappy prisoner was dead. Cortez and many of the men could not refrain from weeping; and the body was surrendered to the Mexicans with every testimony of respect.
The fighting was now commenced with greater fury, and prodigies of valor were performed by the Spaniards; but all to no purpose. Another attempt was made to induce the enemy to come to terms. The only answer was the threat that they would all be sacrificed to the gods, and the appalling information, ‘You cannot escape; the bridges are broken down.’ At last, as death was before their eyes, it was determined by Cortez, and all the officers and soldiers, to quit the city during the night as they hoped at that time to find the enemy less alert.
Towards midnight, on the 1st of July 1520, they left their quarters secretly, most of the soldiers loading themselves with the gold which remained over and above the royal share, and proceeded as silently as possible towards the western causeway leading to Tlacopan, by which, as being the shortest of the three (two miles long), they thought it would be the easiest to effect a passage. In this causeway there were three drawbridges, separated by intervals nearly equal; and aware that these had been destroyed by the Mexicans, Cortez had provided a portable bridge, made of timber, the carriage of which he intrusted to forty picked soldiers. The van of the army was led by Sandoval, with two hundred foot and a body of horse under his command; the baggage, large guns and prisoners came next, guarded by Cortez and a band of veterans; and the rear was brought up by Pedro de Alvarado and Valasquez de Leon, commanding the strength of the infantry.
The night was dark and rainy. The Spaniards reached the causeway without being interrupted. The portable bridge was laid across the first moat or gap, and a great part of the army had gone over it in safety, and were already approaching the second gap, when, through the stillness of the night, there was heard the boom of the great drum from the top of the Mexican war temple, the rushing of myriads of pursuers along the causeway from behind, and the splashing of the oars of thousands of canoes full of warriors, which were advancing through the lake on both sides of the causeway. Showers of arrows fell on the rearguard as they were passing over the portable bridge; and the Aztecs, clambering up the sides of the causeway, grappled with the soldiers, and tried to drag them into the water. Throwing off these assailants by main strength, Alvarado and his men steadily and expeditiously moved on. Meanwhile the vanguard under Sandoval having reached the second gap, were waiting until the portable bridge should be brought up to enable them to cross it. Goaded with the arrows which were discharged upon them in clouds from the Aztec canoes, they grew impatient of the delay, and began to cast anxious glances backward along the causeway for the appearance of the bridge. Suddenly the appalling news was passed along that the bridge had stuck so fast at the first opening that it could not be pulled up. The weight of the men and heavy baggage crossing it had fastened it into the earth so firmly as to defy extrication. When this awful intelligence reached the vanguard, order and command were at an end; uproar and confusion ensued; and, seized with the instinct of self-preservation, each man tried to shift for himself. Flinging themselves headlong into the gap, they struggled with the Mexican warriors in the water, upsetting their canoes in their drowning agonies. Rank after rank followed, each trampling upon the bodies of its predecessors, and floundering among the canoes which lay between them and the opposite side. Sandoval and a few of the cavalry swam their horses across; some of the foot also were able to reach the side of the causeway and climb up; but of the vanguard, the great majority were drowned, or slain, or carried off wounded in the Mexican canoes. Meanwhile on came the rest of the army; men, carriages, guns, baggage, all were swept into the trench, which was soon choked up by the wreck. Over this bridge of broken wagons, bales of cotton, and the dead bodies of their companions and enemies, Cortez and his veterans were able to reach the other side of the trench with less difficulty. Here, joining Sandoval and the few survivors of his band, they dashed along the causeway towards the third and last opening, regardless of the darts and arrows which the Mexicans discharged among them from their canoes. Reaching the third trench, they crossed it in the same manner as the last, but without so much loss, and were rapidly approaching the mainland, when looking back through the dim morning light, they saw Alvarado and his rearguard pent up on the causeway between the second and third bridges, and almost overborne by the Mexicans who surounded them. Cortez, Sandoval, and a few of the horse instantly wheeled round to the rescue; and recrossing the third gap, shouted their battle-cry, and interposed between the Spaniards and their pursuers. This timely succor enabled most of the infantry to escape; and at length all had crossed the opening except Cortez, Sandoval, Alvarado, and a few others. Cortez, Sandoval, and the rest soon followed, carried through by their horses; and only one man remained upon the Mexican extremity of the causeway. It was Pedro de Alvarado; his horse was slain; and he was standing on the brink, surrounded by enemies ready drag him off, should he plunge into the trench. Five or six warriors were already advancing from behind to seize him, when, casting one glance at the opposite edge where his countrymen were waiting him, he planted one end of his long lance among the rubbish which choked up the gap, and, rising in the air, cleared it at a bound. The spot where this tremendous feat was executed still bears the name of Alvarado’s Leap.
The Mexicans now desisted from the pursuit; and the relics of the Spanish army, advancing along the remainder of the causeway, entered Tlacopan. Here they did not remain long, being anxious to place themselves beyond the reach of the Mexicans, and to arrive at Tlascala, the city of their faithful allies. They were now able to count the losses which they had sustained during the night. About four hundred and fifty Spaniards, and nearly four thousand Tlascalans, had been drowned, slain, or made prisoners during the passage along the causeway; a loss which, added to the numbers killed in the battles within the city, reduced the army to little more than a fourth of what it had been when it entered Mexico ten days before. But the most deplorable part was the loss of all the artillery, firearms, and ammunition, not so much as a musket remaining among the five hundred who survived. Still, under this accumulation of misfortunes, his heart did not sink; and his resolution was taken not to leave the country till he had regained his former footing in it, and annexed it as a province to the dominions of his sovereign.
His first object was to reach Tlascala, where he might recruit the strength of his men――almost all of whom were stiff with wounds――and arrange his future proceedings. After many difficulties, and another great battle, in which he defeated the Mexicans, he reached it on the 9th of July, 1520. They were kindly received by the generous mountaineers, who withstood all the solicitations of the Mexican sovereign, Cuitlahua, Montezuma’s brother and successor, that they would assist him in driving the Spaniards out of the country.
It was early in autumn before Cortez left Tlascala. His intention was first to punish several states of Anahuac which had revolted during his absence in Mexico, especially the districts of Tepeaca and Cachula; and then, after having reduced the whole country east of the Mexican valley, to return to the capital itself, and take it by storm. With a force so reduced as his, without cannons or other firearms, this was an apparently hopeless enterprise; but hopeless was a word of which Cortez did not know the meaning. Fortunately, while engaged in subduing the eastern districts of Anahuac, he received reinforcements which he never anticipated. Velasquez, ignorant of the fate of the expedition which he had sent under Narvaez, and supposing that Cortez was by this time a prisoner in the hands of his rival, had despatched a ship with stores, arms, and ammunition to the colony of Villa Rica. The vessel touched at the port; the captain and his men disembarked, suspecting nothing, and were instantly seized by the officer of Cortez; nor did it require much persuasion to induce the whole crew to enlist under the standard of a man of whom they had heard so many eulogies. A second vessel sent by Velasquez soon afterwards shared the same fate; three ships sent by the governor of Jamaica to prosecute discoveries, and plant colonies in central America, chancing also to land at Villa Rica, their crews joined the army of Cortez; and lastly, a merchant vessel, loaded with provisions and all the necessaries of war, arrived at the Mexican coast, and was purchased by Cortez――sailors, cargo, and all.
Having completely subjugated all Anahuac to the east of the Mexican valley, Cortez resolved to found a second Spanish colony in the interior of the country, which should form a half-way station between Villa Rica and the city of Mexico. The site chosen was Tepeaca, and the name given to the settlement was Segura de la Frontera. From this spot Cortez wrote a second letter to Charles V, giving an account of the expedition from the date of the last letter down to the foundation of Segura, and announcing his intention of marching immediately to reconquer Mexico.
It was five months after the date of their expulsion from Mexico before the Spaniards were in a condition once more to march against it. Part of the necessary preparations consisted, as we have seen, in the subjugation of those parts of Anahuac which adjoined the Mexican valley on the east; but another cause of delay was the construction of thirteen brigantines at Tlascala, under the direction of Martin Lopez, a skillful shipwright, who had accompanied Cortez. These vessels were to be taken to pieces, and transported, together with the iron-work and cordage belonging to the ships which Cortez had destroyed off Villa Rica, across the mountains to the great Mexican lake. At length all was ready, and on the 28th of December 1520 the whole army left Tlascala on its march towards Mexico. It consisted of about six hundred Spaniards, with nine cannons, and forty horses, accompanied by an immense multitude of native warriors, Tlascalans, Tepeacans, and Cholulans, amounting probably to sixteen thousand men, besides the tamanes, who were employed in transporting the brigantines. Garrisons had of course been left at Villa Rica and Segura.
No opposition was offered to the invaders on their march, the Mexicans fleeing at their approach; and on the 1st of January, 1521, they took possession of the city of Tezcuco. Cuitlahua, Montezuma’s successor on the throne, was now dead, and his place was occupied by his nephew, Guatemozin, yet a young man, but the most heroic and patriotic of all the Mexicans. The policy of Cortez was first to subdue all the states and cities on the margin of the five lakes, so as to leave Mexico without protection or assistance, and then to direct his whole force to the final reduction of the capital. For four months, therefore, Cortez, Sandoval, Alvarado, and his other officers were employed, sometimes separately, sometimes in concert, in reconnoitering expeditions into various parts of the Mexican valley――from Chalco, on the banks of the southernmost, to Xaltocan, an island in the northernmost lake. Scarcely a day of these four months was passed in idleness; and it would require far more space than we can afford to do justice to all the engagements in which the Spaniards were victorious, or to all the feats of personal valor performed by Cortez, Alvarado, Olid, Sandoval, and other brave cavaliers. Passing over these, as well as the account of a conspiracy among his men, which the prudence and presence of mind of Cortez enabled him to quash, and of the execution of the Tlascalan chief, Xicotencatl, for deserting the Spaniards, we hasten to the concluding scene.
On the 10th of May, 1521, the siege commenced. Alvarado, with a hundred and fifty Spanish infantry, thirty cavalry, and eight thousand Tlascalans, took up his station at Tlacopan, so as to command the western causeway; Christoval de Olid, with the same number of cavalry and Indians, and a hundred and seventy-five infantry, commanded one of the branches of the southern causeway at Cojohuacan; and Sandoval, with a force nearly equal, the other branch of the same causeway at Iztapalapan. Cortez himself took the command of the flotilla of brigantines. For several days the three captains conducted operations more or less successfully at their respective stations, one of Alvarado’s services having consisted in destroying the pipes which supplied the Mexicans with fresh water, so that, during the rest of the siege, they had no other way of procuring a supply than by means of canoes. The brigantines, when they were launched, did immense service in overturning and dispersing the Mexican canoes, and also in protecting the flanks of the causeways on which the other detachments were pursuing their operations. At length, after much resistance on the part of the Mexicans, the two causeways, the western and the southern, were completely occupied by the Spaniards; and Sandoval having, by Cortez’s orders, made a circuit of the lake, and seized the remaining causeway of Tepejeca, the city was in a state of blockade. But so impatient were the Spaniards of delay, that Cortez resolved on a general assault on the city by all the three causeways at once. Cortez was to advance into the city from Xoloc, Alvarado from his camp on the western causeway, and Sandoval from his camp on the northern, and the three detachments, uniting in the great square in the centre of the city, were to put the inhabitants to the sword. The plan had nearly succeeded. The vanguard of Cortez’s party had chased the retreating Mexicans into the city, and were pushing their way to the great square, when the horn of Guatemozin was heard to sound, and the Aztecs rallying, commenced a furious onset. The neglect of Cortez to fill up a trench in one of the causeways impeded the retreat of the Spaniards in such a way as to cause a dreadful confusion, and it was only by efforts almost superhuman that they were able to regain their quarters. Their loss amounted to upwards of a hundred men, of whom about sixty had been taken alive.
This triumph elated the Mexicans as much as it depressed the Spaniards and their allies. It was prophesied by the Mexican priests that in eight days all the Spaniards should be slain; the gods, they said, had decreed it. This prediction, reported in the quarters of the besiegers, produced an extraordinary effect on the allies. They regarded the Spaniards as doomed men, refused to fight with them, and withdrew to a little distance from the lake. In this dilemma Cortez showed his wonderful presence of mind, by ordering a total cessation of hostilities for the period specified by the Mexican gods. When the eight days were passed, the allies, ashamed of their weakness, returned to the Spanish quarters, and the siege recommenced. These eight days, however, had not been without their horrors. From their quarters the Spaniards could perceive their fellow-countrymen who had been taken prisoners by the Mexicans dragged to the top of the great war temple, compelled to dance round the sanctuary of the gods, then laid on the stone of sacrifice, their hearts torn out, and their bleeding bodies flung down into the square beneath.
Famine now assisted the arms of the Spaniards; still, with that bravery of endurance for which their race is remarkable, the Mexicans continued the defense of the city, and it was not till it had been eaten into, as it were, on all sides, by the Spaniards, that they ceased to fight. On the 14th of August a murderous assault was commenced by the besiegers. It lasted two days; and on the evening of the second some canoes were seen to leave the city, and endeavor to reach the mainland. They were chased, and captured; and on board of one of them was found Guatemozin, with his family and his principal nobles. Guatemozin’s capture was the signal of complete defeat; and on the 16th of August, 1521, the city was surrendered to the Spaniards. The population was reduced to about forty thousand, and in a few days all these had disappeared, no one knew whither. The city was in ruins, like some huge churchyard with the corpses disinterred and the tombstones scattered about.
Thus was the ancient and beautiful city of Mexico destroyed, and its inhabitants slain or dispersed. A monstrous act of unjustifiable aggression had been completed. Following up this great blow, Cortez pursued the conquest of the country generally; and in this, as well as in organizing it into a colony of Spain, he did not experience any serious difficulty. On proceeding to Spain, he was received with honor by Charles V. He returned to Mexico in 1530; and again revisiting Spain in 1540, for the purpose of procuring the redress of real or alleged grievances, he died in 1547, in the sixty-third year of his age. It is very much to be lamented that, in the execution of his purposes of colonization, the monuments of Mexican civilization were everywhere destroyed, leaving nothing to future generations but the broken relics of palaces, temples, and other objects of art, scattered amidst the wilderness. Some of these ruined monuments, recently explored by Stephens and other travelers, show that the ancient Mexicans had made remarkable advances in social life as well as in the arts, more particularly architecture; and what renders all such relics the more interesting to the archæologist, is the growing conviction, that the old Mexican civilization was of an original type――a thing noway derived from, or connected with, the civilization of Egypt, or any other nation in the eastern hemisphere.
It is consolatory to know that the Spaniards have not succeeded in making Mexico a perpetual tributary of their rapacious monarchy. The cruelties they committed seem to have contained in themselves the elements of retribution. After a career of indolence, oppression, and bigotry, extending to comparatively recent times, their yoke has been thrown off; and their feeble and ignorant successors may be said to be in the course of coming under the thraldom of their Anglo-Saxon neighbors. It is difficult to compassionate the fate which appears to await the slothful and proud race whose ancestors laid the ancient empire of Mexico in ruins.
WILLIAM PENN.
William Penn, the celebrated founder of Pennsylvania, was born in London on the 14th of October, 1644. He was the only son of Sir William Penn, a naval commander of distinction, first during the Protectorate of Cromwell, and afterwards in the service of Charles the II, from whom he received the honor of knighthood. His health having suffered from his active duties, Admiral Penn retired from service in 1666, although then only in the forty-fifth year of his age. His wife, the mother of William Penn, was the daughter of a merchant in Rotterdam.
Penn received his preliminary education at Chigwell, in Essex, near his father’s country residence. From Chigwell school he was removed, at twelve years of age, to a private academy in London; and having made great progress in all the usual branches of education, he was entered, at the age of fifteen years, as a gentleman commoner at Christ-church, Oxford. At college he is said to have been remarkable not more for his sedateness and attention to study, than for his extreme fondness for all athletic sports. His first bias, too, towards the opinions of that religious sect of which he became afterwards so distinguished an ornament, the Society of Friends, was produced at this period of his life. It was the effect of the preaching of one Thomas Loe, once a member of the university of Oxford, but who had embraced the doctrines of the Quakers, and was now a zealous propagator of the same.
Serious and thoughtful from his childhood, young Penn was strongly impressed by the views of religious truth which Loe inculcated; and the consequence was, that he and a few of his fellow-students who had been similarly affected, began to absent themselves from the established worship of the university, and to hold private meetings among themselves for devotional purposes. For this breach of the college rules a fine was imposed upon them by the authorities of the university. Neither Penn nor his associates were cured of their disposition to nonconformity by this act of severity; they still continued to hold their private meetings, and naturally became more zealous in their views as they saw those views prohibited and discountenanced. Their zeal soon manifested itself in an act of riot. An order having been sent down to Oxford by Charles II that the surplice should be worn by the students, as was customary in ancient times, Penn and his companions were so roused by what they conceived a return to popish observances, that, not content with disobeying the order themselves, they attacked those students who appeared in the obnoxious surplices, and tore them off their backs. So flagrant an outrage on college discipline could not be allowed to pass without severe punishment, and accordingly Penn and several of his companions were expelled. As may be conceived, Admiral Penn was by no means pleased when his son returned home with the stigma attached to him of having been expelled from college; nor was he more satisfied when he learned the cause. Himself untroubled with any such religious scruples as those which his son professed, he could not make any allowance for them, but, on the contrary, insisted that he should give them up, and live as any young gentleman of good family and loyal principles might be expected to do. The young man meeting his father’s remonstrances with arguments in self-defense, the hasty old admiral turned him out of doors.
Through his mother’s intercession a reconciliation soon took place; and the admiral determined, as the best means of finishing his son’s education, and possibly of curing him of what he considered his over-religiousness, to send him to spend a year or two in France. Penn accordingly left England in 1662, and was absent on the continent till 1664. On his return to England, his father was much pleased to find him so polished in demeanor and manners, and did not doubt but his intention in sending him abroad had been in a great measure fulfilled. By his advice Penn became a student of Lincoln’s Inn, where he continued till 1666, when his father sent him over to Ireland to manage his pretty extensive estates in the county of Cork. In this commission he conducted himself entirely to his father’s satisfaction, residing sometimes on the estates themselves, sometimes in Dublin, where he had the advantage of mixing in the society attending the court of the Duke of Ormond, lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and his father’s friend. While attending to his business in Ireland, however, a circumstance befell him, which might have induced his father to have acted differently, could he have foreseen it. Being accidentally one day in Cork, he heard that Thomas Loe, the person whose preaching had so deeply affected him at Oxford, was to address a meeting of Quakers in that city. Penn could not think of losing the opportunity of again seeing and hearing his old friend, and accordingly he entered the place where Loe was to preach. He took his seat, and had waited for a few minutes, when the preacher rose, and commenced his sermon with the following striking words:――‘There is a faith which overcometh the world; and there is a faith which is overcome by the world.’ The words, and the sermon which they introduced, seemed adapted to his own case. Had not his faith been one which had been overcome by the world? and was it not, therefore, a weak, poor, and useless thing? Such was the force of this reflection, strengthened as it was by intercourse with Loe, that he resolved from that day to devote himself to the service of religion, and to adhere to the sect whose principles he respected most. In short, from that time Penn became a professed Quaker.
Nonconformity in religious observances was at that time somewhat dangerous. In Scotland, a religious persecution was fiercely raging; and although in other parts of the kingdom the spirit of bigotry on the part of the government did not manifest itself to the same extent, yet everywhere throughout Great Britain and Ireland dissenters were subject to grievous annoyances; and it was in the power of any meddlesome or narrow-minded person to point to numerous persecuting laws existing in the statute-book, and to demand that they should be put in force against them. Accordingly, William Penn soon paid the price of his conscientiousness. Making it a point, ever after his meeting with Loe, to attend the religious assemblies of the Quakers in preference to those of the Established Church, he was apprehended, along with eighteen others, on the 3d of September 1667, and carried before the mayor of Cork, charged with transgressing the act against tumultuous assemblies passed seven years before. The mayor, perceiving Penn to be a gentlemen, offered him his liberty on condition that he would give security for his good behavior in future; but Penn refused to comply with this condition, and was therefore committed to prison with the others. From prison he addressed a letter to the Earl of Orrery, then lord president of Munster, and a friend probably of Admiral Penn, requesting his inteference to procure the release of himself and his companions. The earl immediately ordered the release of Penn; the others, it would appear, however, were permitted to remain in prison.
Meanwhile some friend of the family, resident in Ireland, had conveyed to the admiral the unwelcome intelligence that his son had joined the Quakers. Without any delay the old man summoned his son home; and their first interview was a stormy one. The admiral at length, finding that his son had become a confirmed Quaker, and losing hope of moving him further, only stipulated that the youth should consent to depart so far from the customs of his sect, as to take off his hat in the presence of the king, the Duke of York, and himself! After a violent struggle between filial affection and religious convictions, William announced that he could not agree even to this limited amount of hat worship, and was again turned out of doors.
Thus driven out into the world, and disqualified by his previous education for earning his livelihood by any ordinary profession, Penn would have fared badly, had not his mother, without the admiral’s knowledge, kept up a communication with him, and supplied him with money out of her own purse. Not long afterwards, being now in the twenty-fourth year of his age, he began to preach at meetings of those who, like himself, had embraced the tenets of the Quakers. About the same time, too, he commenced his career as a polemical pamphleteer――a character which he kept up till his dying day, having in the course of his life published an immense number of controversial pamphlets in defense of his sect and of religious liberty in general. The title of his first work, published in 1668, was as follows:――‘Truth Exalted, in a short but sure Testimony against all those Religions, Faiths, and Worships, that have been formed and followed in the darkness of Apostacy; and for that Glorious Light which is now risen, and shines forth in the Life and Doctrine of the despised Quakers, as the alone good old way of Life and Salvation.’ To account for the somewhat bombastic appearance of this title, as well as for much in the conduct of William Penn and other early Quakers, which might otherwise seem difficult to explain, it must be mentioned that the early Quakers differed considerably from the modern Society of Friends with respect to the ideas which they entertained regarding the importance of their own sect. George Fox, William Penn, and the early Quakers in general, regarded Quakerism as a ‘glorious light’――a new dispensation, destined to abrogate existing forms of faith, and restore Christianity to its primitive purity. Hence their sanguine mode of speaking concerning their own mode of faith; hence their extraordinary exertions to make proselytes; and hence that activity, and even restlessness in society, which distinguished the early Quakers from their modern successors.
William Penn was a great accession to the sect whose views he had adopted. Both by the publication of pamphlets and by public debates, he endeavored to make an impression in favor of the Quakers. One of his publications, a pamphlet, called ‘The Sandy Foundation Shaken,’ gave so much offense to some of the established clergy, and especially to the bishop of London, that Penn was apprehended, and sent as a prisoner to the Tower. During his imprisonment here, which lasted seven months, he wrote his ‘No Cross, no Crown,’ one of the most popular of all his works; the leading idea of it being, ‘that unless men are willing to lead a life of self-denial, and to undergo privations and hardships in the course of their Christian warfare; that is, unless they are willing to bear the cross, they can not become capable of wearing the crown――the crown namely, of eternal glory.’ At length Penn was discharged by an order from the king, who was probably moved to this act of leniency by his brother, the Duke of York, Admiral Penn’s friend.
The admiral by this time was disposed to be reconciled to his son, whose constancy to his opinions he could not help admiring, notwithstanding that he had no predilection for the opinions themselves. Partly to keep him out of harm’s way, he sent him a second time on a mission of business to Ireland. While dutifully fulfilling the business on which he had been sent, Penn employed a great part of his time in Ireland in preaching and writing tracts in favor of Quakerism. He likewise visited many poor persons of his sect who were suffering imprisonment for their fidelity to their convictions; and, by means of his representations and his influence he was able to procure from the lord-lieutenant the discharge of several of them. On his return to England he was kindly received by his father, and took up his abode once more in the paternal mansion.
The spirit of intolerance had, in the meantime, become more rampant in the government; and in 1670, parliament passed the famous act against conventicles, by which it was attempted to crush nonconformity in England. The Quakers of course were visited with the full severity of the act; and William Penn was one of its first victims. Proceeding one day to the place of meeting, which he attended in Gracechurch Street, he found the door guarded by a party of soldiers, who prevented him from entering. Others of the congregation coming up, gathered round the door, forming, with the chance loiterers, who were attracted by curiosity, a considerable crowd. Penn began to address them; but had hardly begun his discourse when he and another Quaker named William Mead, who was standing near him, were seized by the constables, who were already provided with warrants, for the purpose, signed by the lord mayor, and conveyed to Newgate, whence they were brought to trial at the Old Bailey sessions on the 3d of September, 1670. As this trial was really very important, we shall detail the proceedings at some length. The justices present on the bench on this occasion were Sir Samuel Starling, lord mayor of London; John Howel, recorder; five aldermen and three sheriffs. The jury consisted, as usual, of twelve men, whose names deserve to be held in honor for the noble manner in which they performed their duty. When the prisoners Penn and Mead entered the court they had their hats on, according to the custom of their sect. One of the officers of the court instantly pulled them off. On this the lord mayor became furious, and ordered the man to replace the hats on the heads of the prisoners, which was no sooner done, than the recorder fined them forty marks each for contempt of court in wearing their hats in presence of the bench. The trial then proceeded. Witnesses were called to prove that, on the 15th of August last, the prisoners had addressed a meeting of between three and four hundred persons in Gracechurch Street. Penn admitted that he and his friend were present on the occasion referred to, but contended that they had met to worship God according to their own conscience, and that they had a right to do so. One of the sheriffs here observed that they were there not for worshipping God, but for breaking the law. ‘What law?’ asked Penn. ‘The common law,’ replied the recorder. Penn insisted on knowing what law that was; but was checked by the bench, who called him ‘a saucy fellow.’ ‘The question is,’ said the recorder at length, ‘whether you are guilty of this indictment.’ ‘The question,’ replied Penn, ‘is not whether I am guilty of this indictment, but whether this indictment be legal. It is too general and imperfect an answer to say it is the common law, unless we know where and what it is; for where there is no law, there is no transgression; and that law which is not in being, is so far from being common that it is no law at all.’ Upon which the recorder retorted, ‘You are an impertinent fellow, sir. Will you teach the court what law is? It is lex non scripta; that which many have studied thirty or forty years to know, and would you have me tell you in a moment?’ Penn immediately answered, ‘Certainly, if the common law be so hard to be understood, it is far from being very common; but if Lord Coke in his Institutes be of any consideration, he tells us that common law is common right, and that common right is the great charter privileges confirmed.’ ‘Sir,’ interrupted the recorder, ‘you are a troublesome fellow, and it is not to the honor of the court to suffer you to go on.’ ‘I have asked but one question,’ said Penn, ‘and you have not answered me, though the rights and privileges of every Englishman are concerned in it.’ ‘If,’ said the recorder, ‘I should suffer you to ask questions till to-morrow morning, you would be never the wiser.’ ‘That,’ replied the imperturable Penn, ‘is according as the answers are.’ After some further conversation, or rather altercation, the mayor and recorder became enraged. ‘Take him away, take him away,’ they cried to the officers of the court; ‘turn him into the bale dock.’ This order was obeyed, Penn protesting as he was removed, that it was contrary to all law for the judge to deliver the charge to the jury in the absence of the prisoners. But now a second contest commenced――a contest between the bench and the jury. The latter, after being sent out of court to agree upon their verdict, unanimously returned the following one――‘Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch Street.’ The bench refused to receive this verdict; and after reproaching the jury, sent them back for half an hour to reconsider it. At the end of the half hour the court again met, and the prisoners having been brought in, the jury delivered precisely the same verdict as before, only this time they gave it in writing, with all their names attached. The court upon this became furious; and the recorder addressing the jury, said, ‘Gentlemen, you shall not be dismissed until we have such a verdict as the court will accept; and you shall be locked up without meat, drink, fire, and tobacco. You shall not think thus to abuse the court; we will have a verdict by the help of God, or you shall starve for it!’ On this Penn stood up and said: ‘My jury, who are my judges, ought not to be thus menaced; their verdict should be free, and not compelled; the bench ought to wait upon them and not to forestall them. I do desire that justice may be done me, and that the arbitrary resolves of the bench may not be made the measure of my jury’s verdict.’ The court then adjourned, the jury, including one who complained of ill health, being locked up without food, fire, or drink. Next morning, on being brought in, they still returned the same verdict. They were violently reproached and threatened; and the recorder even forgot himself so far as to say that ‘he had never till now understood the policy and prudence of the Spaniards in suffering the Inquisition among them; and that certainly it would never be well in England till something like the Spanish Inquisition were established there.’ The jury were again locked up without food, drink, tobacco, or fire, for twenty-four hours. On the third day, the natural and glorious effect of this brutality on the minds of Englishmen was produced. In place of the indirect acquittal contained in their former verdict, they now, with one voice, pronounced the prisoners ‘Not guilty!’ Upon some paltry legal pretense they were all fined for their contumacy, and sent to prison till the fine should be paid. Penn himself was shut up till he should pay the mulct for contempt of court. This he would not do; but his father, it is thought, laid down the money for him, and he was liberated.
Penn’s father dying immediately after his liberation, left him a clear estate of £1500 a-year――a considerable property in those days. The old man had by this time been brought to regard his son’s conduct in a more favorable light than he had done at first; and one of his dying advices to him was, to ‘suffer nothing in this world to tempt him to wrong his conscience.’
For twelve months after his father’s death Penn proceeded as before, preaching habitually at meetings of persons of his own persuasion, writing tracts and treatises in defense of Quakerism, and on other theological and political topics, among which was an account of the recent trial of himself and Mead, and engaging also in oral controversy with several dissenting preachers who had inveighed against the Quakers from their pulpits. His activity soon brought him into fresh trouble. Towards the end of the year 1671, he was again apprehended on the charge of preaching to an illegal assembly, and brought before Sir John Robinson, lieutenant of the Tower, who was one of his judges on the former trial. Sir Samuel Starling was also present. Unable to convict the prisoner on the conventicle act, Sir John, who was resolved not to let him escape, adopted another plan, and required him to take the oath of allegiance to the king, well knowing that, as it was contrary to the principles of the Quakers to take an oath at all, he would refuse, and thereby subject himself to imprisonment. ‘I vow, Mr. Penn,’ said Sir John Robinson, on his refusal, ‘I am sorry for you. You are an ingenious gentleman; all the world must allow you, and do allow you that; and you have a plentiful estate; why should you render yourself unhappy by associating with such a simple people?’ ‘I confess,’ said Penn in reply, ‘I have made it my choice to relinquish the company of those that are ingeniously wicked, to converse with those that are more honestly simple.’ ‘I wish you wiser!’ said Sir John. ‘And I wish thee better!’ replied Penn. ‘You have been as bad as other folks,’ observed the judge? ‘When and where?’ cried Penn, his blood rising at this accusation of hypocrisy. ‘I charge thee to tell the company to my face.’ ‘Abroad and at home too,’ said Sir John. Penn, indignant at this ungenerous taunt, exclaimed, ‘I make this bold challenge to all men, women, and children upon earth, justly to accuse me with having seen me drunk, heard me swear, or speak one obscene word, much less that I ever made it a practice. I speak this to God’s glory, who has ever preserved me from the power of these pollutions.’ Then turning to his calumniator, and forgetting for a moment his wonted meekness, ‘Thy words,’ said he, ‘shall be thy burden, and I trample thy slander as dirt under my feet!’
The result of the trial was, that Penn was committed to Newgate for six months. In prison he composed and published several new works, all connected with the subject of religious toleration, especially as it concerned his own sect. On his release, he made a tour through Holland and Germany, apparently for the purpose of disseminating the doctrines of Quakerism; but few particulars are known respecting this tour. On his return to England in 1673, being now in the twenty-eighth year of his age, he contracted a marriage with Gulielma Maria, daughter of Sir William Springett, of Darling, in Sussex, and a lady of great beauty and accomplishments. After their marriage, they took up their residence at Rickmansworth, Hertfordshire, where his wealth would have enabled Penn, had he so chosen, to lead the life of an influential country gentleman. Nothing, however, could cool the enthusiasm of Penn in behalf of what he esteemed a great and glorious cause; and for three or four years after his marriage, he was incessantly occupied in the composition of controversial pamphlets, defending the Quakers against the attacks and misrepresentations of other sects, and in traveling from place to place for the purpose either of preaching, or of conducting a debate with an antagonist. Early in 1677, he removed his residence from Rickmansworth, in Herts, to Worminghurst, in Sussex. In the same year, in company with the celebrated George Fox and Robert Barclay, he made a second religious tour through Holland and Germany, visiting, among others, the Princess Elizabeth of the Rhine, daughter of the king of Bohemia, and granddaughter of James I of England, who had shown considerable interest in the doctrines of the Quakers, and who received him very graciously. On his return to England, we find him engaged in a remonstrance to parliament in behalf of the Quakers, which deserves some notice. At that time, as the readers of history well know, a strong feeling prevailed throughout the nation against the Roman Catholics, who were suspected of innumerable plots and conspiracies against the church and state, which, for the most part, had no existence except in the fancies of the most bigoted portion of the Protestants. The feelings against the Catholics became so high, that all the existing laws against them were rigorously put in force, and much persecution was the consequence――twenty pounds a-month being the penalty of absence from the established worship of the country.
In order, however, to distinguish between the Roman Catholics and other dissenters, so that the former alone might suffer, it was proposed in parliament that a test should be offered, whereby, on taking a particular oath, a suspected party might escape. This of course was quite a sufficient method for dissenters in general, who had no objection to take the required oath; but for Quakers, who objected to oaths altogether, the plan was of no advantage. On refusing to take the oath, they would be liable to be treated as Jesuits, or Roman Catholics in disguise. On this point William Penn presented a petition to the House of Commons, in which he prayed that, with regard to the clause for discriminating between Roman Catholics and others, the mere word of a Quaker should be deemed equivalent to an oath; with this addition, however, that if any Quaker should be found uttering a falsehood on the occasion, he should be subject to exactly the same punishment as if he had sworn falsely. Being admitted to a hearing before a committee of the House of Commons, he spoke in support of his petition, insisting that it was hard that the Quakers ‘must bear the stripes of another interest, and be their proxy in punishment.’ ‘But mark,’ he continued, in words which did him and his sect much honor, when contrasted with the general intolerance of those times, ‘I would not be mistaken. I am far from thinking it fit, because I exclaim against the injustice of whipping Quakers for Papists, that Papists should be whipped for their consciences. No: for though the hand pretended to be lifted up against them hath lighted heavily upon us, yet we do not mean that any should take a fresh aim at them, or that they should come in our room; for we must give the liberty we ask, and cannot be false to our principles, though it were to relieve ourselves; for we have good will to all men, and would have none suffer for a truly sober and conscientious dissent on any hand. And I humbly take leave to add, that those methods against persons so qualified do not seem to me to be convincing, or indeed adequate, to the reason of mankind; but this I submit to your consideration.’ The effect of Penn’s representations was such, that a clause for the relief of Quakers was actually introduced into the bill then before the House: the prorogation of parliament, however, put a stop to the progress of the bill.
Passing over Penn’s further exertions, both by speech and writing, in the cause of Quakerism and of religious toleration in England, as an account of these would not possess much interest now, we come to the most important event in his life――namely the foundation of the North American colony of Pennsylvania.
PENN LED TO TAKE AN INTEREST IN THE AMERICAN COLONIES――OBTAINS A GRANT OF PENNSYLVANIA.
After various unsuccessful attemps, two English colonies had been planted on the eastern coast of North America in the early part of the seventeenth century. The more southern of the two was called Virginia, and was colonized principally by mercantile adventurers; the more northern was called New England, and was colonized principally by Puritans, who, driven by persecution from the mother country, had crossed the Atlantic in order to enjoy liberty of conscience in a new country of their own founding. From the year 1620, a constant stream of emigrants from Great Britain had been pouring into these colonies; so that, towards the latter part of the century, the coast on both sides of the Potomac river was overspread by a British population――those on the north side of the river calling themselves New Englanders, and those on the south side Virginians. The manner in which the colonization was carried on was as follows:――The king granted to some nobleman, or to some mercantile company, a certain territory roughly marked out; this nobleman or company again either sold the property in lots to intending emigrants, or themselves organized an emigration on a large scale, and superintended the foundation of a colony on the territory in question. It is evident, therefore, that the purchase and sale of lands in America had become, in the reign of Charles II, a favorite branch of speculation; some parties buying portions of land with an actual view to settle in the new world, or at least to possess property in it, others buying with the mere intention of selling again. Now, it so happened that, in the year 1664, the Duke of York, afterwards James II, who had obtained from his brother Charles II a grant of a great part of the New England coast, conveyed over a portion of it, under the name of New Jersey, to Lord Berkeley and Sir George Carteret. Lord Berkeley again disposed of his half share to two members of the Society of Friends――John Fenwick and Edward Byllinge. It appears that some dispute arose between these two individuals respecting their shares in the land which they had purchased; for, in the year 1775, we find William Penn, who seems to have been a friend of both, acting as arbitrator between them, and endeavoring to persuade Fenwick to yield, and, for the credit of the body to which he belonged, not to carry the dispute to a court of law. His remonstrances were effectual; the difference between Fenwick and Byllinge was adjusted, and the former emigrated to New Jersey, apparently in the mere capacity of superintendent for Byllinge, while Byllinge himself remained at home.
This was Penn’s first connexion with the American colonies; a connexion, it will be observed, quite casual, but which was followed by important consequences. Byllinge becoming involved in pecuniary difficulties, conveyed over his property in New Jersey to his creditors, prevailing upon William Penn to act as trustee, along with two of the creditors, for the judicious application of the property to the purpose of discharging his debts. Penn entered on the business with much alacrity; and after concluding an arrangement with Sir George Carteret, by which the boundaries of his and Byllinge’s share of New Jersey were defined――the former under the name of East New Jersey and the latter under that of West New Jersey――he prepared to turn his position, as Byllinge’s trustee for West New Jersey, to the best account. The property having been divided into a hundred lots, Fenwick, Byllinge’s agent, was paid off with ten of these, and the remaining ninety were to be applied for the behoof of the creditors. All that was necessary now was to invite promising emigrants to settle in these lands; and with this view Penn drew up a constitution, consisting of a number of articles of mutual agreement which the purchasers of the lands were to sign, and which were characterised by his own spirit of liberality and toleration. At the same time in order that no one might embark in the undertaking without a full knowledge of the condition of the country he was going to, and the difficulties which he must encounter, he and his colleagues published ‘A description of West New Jersey,’ embracing all the information they had it in their power to give. In consequence of these representations, about eight hundred respectable settlers, most of them Quakers, embarked for New Jersey in the beginning of 1678.
Once led to take an interest in the American colonies, nothing was more natural for William Penn, situated as he was, a member of a persecuted sect, who had all his life been struggling ineffectually for the attainment for himself and his fellows of some measure of religious liberty, than to conceive the project of heading an emigration on a large scale, to consist of Quakers and other dissenters. Might he not be the instrument of founding a new state, which, constructed upon better and sounder principles than those which regulated the old state of Europe, would one day become great and flourish? Or even supposing that so noble a prospect were never to be realized, would it not in itself be a good and philanthropic action, to remove some hundreds of families from a land where they were suffering continual wrong for conscience sake, and plant them in a land where, supporting themselves by the sweat of their brow, they might still eat their bread in peace, and bless God the giver? Such were the thoughts that recurred again and again to the mind of William Penn, as instance after instance of persecution presented itself to his view. Intelligence which he received of the prosperity of the colonists, whom, in his capacity as trustee for Byllinge, he had been instrumental in sending out to New Jersey, confirmed him in the notion which he was indulging; and at length he formed the decided resolution to head an extensive scheme of emigration on his own account.
Fortunately the execution of this project was facilitated by a claim which Penn had upon government. His father, Admiral Penn, had at different times advanced sums of money to the needy and dissolute government of Charles II, which, together with arrears of pay, amounted to £16,000; and as his father’s heir Penn was of course entitled to the payment of this debt. In lieu of the money, Penn proposed that government should make him a grant of a tract of country in New England, yet uncolonised――the tract, namely, lying to the north of Maryland, bounded on the east by the Delaware river, extending as far to the west as Maryland, and as far to the north as was plantable. He had no doubt been led to fix on this territory by favorable accounts which he had received of its resources. When the application was made to government, considerable opposition was offered to Penn’s proposal, on the ground that he was a Quaker. At length, however, on the 4th of March, 1681, a royal charter was granted, constituting Penn full and absolute proprietor, under the British crown, of all the land which he had petitioned for. The rights with which this charter invested him were most ample. ‘The use,’ says his biographer, Mr. Clarkson, ‘of all ports, bays, rivers, and waters in the specified territory, of their produce, and of all islands, mountains, soils, and mines there, was wholly granted to him. He was to hold the territory in free and common soccage by fealty only, paying two beaver skins annually, and a fifth of all the gold and silver discovered, to the king. He had the power of making laws, with the advice, assent, and approbation of the free men of the territory assembled for the raising of money for public uses; of appointing judges and other officers; and of pardoning and reprieving, except in cases of willful murder and high treason. He had the power of dividing the province into towns, hundreds, and counties; of erecting and incorporating towns into burghs, and burghs into cities; of selling or alienating any part or parts of the said province, in which case the purchasers were to hold by his grant; of constituting fairs and markets; and of making ports, harbors, and quays. He had the power of assessing, reasonably, and with the advice of the free men assembled, customs on goods laden and unladen, and of enjoying the same, saving only to the king such impositions as were and should be appointed by act of parliament. In the case of incursion by neighboring barbarous nations, or by pirates or robbers, he had power to levy, muster, and train to arms all men in the said province, and to act as their captain-general, and to make war upon and pursue the same.’ To these general provisions were added many regulations in detail, the whole charter amounting to one of the most full and absolute ever granted to a subject. With regard to the name of the new territory, Penn proposed at first that it should be called New Wales, by way of companionship, it may be supposed, to New England. Objections however, being taken to this name, he proposed Sylvania, as one which the woody nature of the country rendered suitable; and ultimately this name was adopted, with the prefix of the word Penn, in honor of William Penn’s father, for whom both the king and the Duke of York had a great regard. Penn was anxious to have this prefix struck out, as apparently too assuming; and he actually made application for that purpose: the king, however, insisted that the name Pennsylvania should remain, as accordingly it did.
Penn immediately took steps for the colonization of his newly acquired territory. He first published a paper giving ‘Some Account of the Province of Pennsylvania in America, lately granted under the Great Seal of England to William Penn;’ and to this paper he annexed a statement of the terms on which he intended to sell his land to emigrants. According to this statement, he was to sell a hundred acres for forty shillings, reserving, for legal reasons, a perpetual quit-rent of one shilling for every hundred acres. He next published a list of those conditions as to the future management of the colony on which he was willing to part with his land to purchasers. The most prominent of these conditions related to the manner in which he wished the native Indians to be treated by those who settled in the new territory. With a degree of humanity rare in that age, though quite in consonance with his own noble character, he forewarned all his adherents that he was determined to put the native Indians on a level with the colonists as regarded civic rights, and that all differences between the two parties should be settled by an equal number of referees from both sides.
As it was deemed necessary, moreover, that intending settlers should have some previous idea of the form of government to be adopted in the new colony, Penn drew up a rough outline of such a constitution as he wished to be established, and as he had no doubt would meet the approbation of all likely to be interested. This constitution embraced twenty-four articles, of which the first, named by Penn the Great Fundamental, was as follows:――‘In reverence to God, the father of light and spirits, the author as well as object of all divine knowledge, faith, and worship, I do for me and mine, declare and establish for the first fundamental of the government of my province, that every person that doth and shall reside therein shall have and enjoy the free profession of his or her faith and exercise of worship toward God, in such a way and manner as every such person in conscience shall believe is most acceptable to God.’
All the necessary preparations having been made, three ships full of emigrants set sail for Pennsylvania in the end of 1681. The superintendence of this first detachment was intrusted by Penn to his relative, Colonel Markham, assisted by commissioners. These were instructed to open up a communication with the natives, and to make all possible arrangements for the establishment of a peaceful relation between them and the future colony. With this view they carried a letter, writen in Penn’s own hand, and addressed to the Indians; of which remarkable document the following is a copy:――‘There is a great God and Power which hath made the world and all things therein, to whom you and I, and all people, owe their being and well-being, and to whom you and I must one day give an account for all that we have done in the world. This great God hath written his law in our hearts, by which we are taught and commanded to love, and to help, and to do good to one another. Now this great God hath been pleased to make me concerned in your part of the world; and the king of the country where I live hath given me a great province therein. But I desire to enjoy it with your love and consent, that we may always live together as neighbors and friends; else what would the great God do to us; who hath made us, not to devour and destroy one another, but to live soberly and kindly together in the world? Now, I would have you well observe that I am very sensible of the unkindness and injustice which have been too much exercised toward you by the people of these parts of the world, who have sought to make great advantages by you, rather than to be examples of goodness and patience unto you. This, I hear, hath been a matter of trouble to you, and caused much grudging and animosities, sometimes to the shedding of blood, which hath made the great God angry. But I am not such a man, as is well known in my own country. I have great love and regard toward you, and desire to win and gain your love and friendship by a kind, just, and peaceable life; and the people I send are of the same mind, and shall in all things behave themselves accordingly; and if in anything any shall offend you or your people, you shall have a full and speedy satisfaction for the same, by an equal number of just men on both sides, that by no means you may have just occasion of being offended against them. I shall shortly come to see you myself, at which time we may more largely and freely confer and discourse of these matters. In the meantime, I have sent my commissioners to treat with you about land, and a firm league of peace. Let me desire you to be kind to them and to the people; and receive the presents and tokens which I have sent you, as a testimony of my good-will to you, and of my resolution to live justly, peaceably, and friendly with you.
I am your loving friend, WILLIAM PENN.’
Penn was busy making preparations to follow the settlers, whom he had already despatched, when he was afflicted by the death of his mother, for whom he had ever manifested the greatest affection. Shortly after this melancholy event, he published in full the constitution to which we have already alluded, under the title, ‘The Frame of Government of the Province of Pennsylvania, in America, together with certain Laws agreed upon in England by the Governor and divers Freemen of the aforesaid Province, to be further explained and confirmed there by the first Provincial Council that shall be held.’ After stating in the preface that he ‘does not find a model of government in the world that time, place, and some singular emergencies have not necessarily altered, and that it is not easy to frame a civil government that shall serve all places alike,’ he proceeds to detail the arrangements which, after due deliberation and consultation, he concluded to be advisable in the meantime. The following is the summary of these arrangements, given by Penn’s biographer, Mr. Clarkson:――‘The government,’ he says, ‘was placed in the governor and freemen of the province, out of whom were to be formed two bodies; namely, a Provincial Council, and a General Assembly. These were to be chosen by the freemen; and, though the governor or his deputy was to be perpetual president, he was to have but a treble vote. The provincial council was to consist of seventy-two members. One-third part――that is, twenty-four of them――were to serve for three years; one-third for two; and the other third for only one year. It was the office of this council to prepare and propose bills; to see that the laws were executed; to take care of the peace and safety of the province; to settle the situation of ports, cities, market-towns, roads, and other public places; to inspect the public treasury; to erect courts of justice, institute schools, and reward the authors of useful discoveries. Not less than two-thirds of these were necessary to make a quorum; and the consent of not less than two-thirds of such a quorum was required in all matters of moment. The general assembly was to consist, the first year, of all the freemen; and the next of two hundred. These were to be increased afterwards according to the increase of the population of the province. They were to have no deliberative power; but when bills were brought to them from the governor and provincial council, they were to pass or reject them by a plain “Yes” or “No.” They were to present sheriffs and justices of the peace to the governor; of the number presented by them, he was to select half. They were to be elected annually. All elections of members, whether to the provincial council or to the general assembly, were to be by ballot. This charter, or frame of government, was not to be altered, changed, or diminished in any part or clause of it, without the consent of the governor, or his heirs or assigns, and six parts out of seven of the freemen both in the provincial council and general assembly.’
Another precaution which Penn took before departing for America deserves to be noticed. To prevent any future dispute between himself or his heirs, and the Duke of York and his heirs, with regard to the proprietorship of Pennsylvania, he procured from his royal highness a written surrender of all his claims, real or supposed, to the lands in question. Not only so; but being aware, also, that, adjoining the district which had been granted him by royal charter, there was a tract of land called ‘the Territories,’ already inhabited by Swedes and Dutch, and belonging to the Duke of York, the possession of which would, he conceived, be advantageous to the infant colony of Pennsylvania, he made application to the duke with a view to obtain it. The duke willingly agreed; and by a deed of feoffment, dated August 24, 1682, the Territories were formally made over to William Penn and his successors.
Nothing remained now but to take leave of his wife and children before embarking on an undertaking then more hazardous than, with our present notions of America and its distance from England, we can well conceive. This he did in a letter of counsel addressed jointly to his wife and children, some passages of which are so impressive and honorable to the writer, that we cannot refrain from giving a brief specimen:――‘My dear wife――Remember thou wast the love of my youth, and much the joy of my life――the most beloved as well as most worthy of all my earthly comforts; and the reason of that love was more thy inward than thy outward excellencies, which yet were many. God knows, and thou knowest it, I can say it was a match of Providence’s making; and God’s image in us both was the first thing, and the most amiable and engaging ornament in our eyes. Now I am to leave thee, and that without knowing whether I shall ever see thee more in this world, take my counsel into thy bosom, and let it dwell with thee in my stead while thou livest.’ He next addresses himself to his children. ‘Be obedient to your dear mother, a woman whose virtue and good name is an honor to you; for she hath been exceeded by none in her time for her integrity, humanity, virtue, and good understanding――qualities not usual among women of her worldly condition and quality. Therefore honor and obey her, my dear children, as your mother, and your father’s love and delight; nay, love her too, for she loved your father with a deep and upright love, choosing him before all her many suitors. And though she be of a delicate constitution and noble spirit, yet she descended to the utmost tenderness and care for you, performing the painfullest acts of service to you in your infancy as a mother and a nurse too. I charge you, before the Lord, honor and obey, love and cherish, your dear mother.’
On the 1st of September, 1682, the ship Welcome, of three hundred tons burthen, set sail from Deal with William Penn and about a hundred other emigrants, mostly Quakers, on board. She had not sailed many days when the small-pox broke out in the ship, and raged so violently, that about thirty of the passengers died. The rest arrived safely at their destination after a voyage of six weeks, the Welcome anchoring in the Delaware river about the middle of October.
The territory of Pennsylvania which William Penn had selected in North America possessed natural advantages of no ordinary kind. ‘It may be doubted,’ says one authority, ‘whether a more widely-diversified region exists upon the face of the earth, or one of similar area in which the vegetable and mineral productions are more numerous.’ Scarcely any part is level; the country is a perpetual alternation of hill and valley. Watered by many large rivers, as the Delaware, the Susquehanna, the Schuylkill, the Alleghany, the Ohio, etc., as well as by innumerable rivulets, it seemed a most inviting country for emigrants. A general perception of these advantages had no doubt actuated Penn in his choice of this particular region. At the time, however, when he made the choice, all was wild and uncultivated――a tract, for the most part, of jungly forest-land, traversed in silence by idle streams. ‘At the beginning of the year 1681,’ says the author of an American history of Philadelphia, ‘the tract of ground upon which Philadelphia now stands was covered with forests; and men and beasts had a pretty equal right to it. Tradition has preserved the anecdote, that, in the year 1678, a ship called the Shields of Stockton, the first that had ever ventured so high up the Delaware, approached so close to the shore in tacking as to run her bowsprit among the trees which then lined the bank, and the passengers on board, who were bound for Burlington, remarked upon it as an advantageous site for a town. Little could they foresee the city that was to be erected on that spot, or the contrast between its growth and that of the still humble village for which they were destined.’
Sailing up the Delaware, Penn first reached the Territories, already mentioned as having been ceded to him by the duke of York, and as being inhabited by Dutch and Swedes. These people, now Penn’s subjects, and who had been prepared for his coming by Colonel Markham, were ready to give him a hearty welcome. About three thousand of them were assembled at Newcastle, where he first landed, a little below the site of the present Philadelphia. Here there was a magistracy and a courthouse, in which Penn, after formally taking possession of the country, delivered an address, assuring the inhabitants of his intentions to govern them in a spirit of kindness and regard for their interests. From Newcastle, Penn proceeded to New York, that he might form a better idea of affairs as they stood in a part of the country already colonized. Returning to Newcastle, he summoned a general assembly of the settlers, at a place called Upland, but to which he then gave the name of Chester. When the general assembly met, it consisted of free settlers indiscriminately from the province and from the territories; all such as chose to take part in the proceedings at this first assembly being, in terms of one of the articles of the constitution, at liberty to do so. A speaker having been chosen, one of the first acts of the assembly was to pass an act uniting the territories and the province, and naturalizing Swedes, Dutch, and all foreigners within the boundaries of the entire region. The laws drawn up by Penn in England were then confirmed, with some modifications and additions. Among these additions the following deserve notice:――‘All children of the age of twelve were to be taught some useful trade or handicraft, to the end that none might be idle in the province. All pleadings, processes, and records in courts of law were to be as short as possible. All fees of law were to be moderate, and to be hung up on tables in the courts. All persons wrongfully imprisoned or prosecuted were to have double damages against the informer or prosecutor. All fines were to be moderate. With respect to the criminal part of these laws, one new principle was introduced. William Penn was of opinion, that though the deterring others from offenses must continue to be the great end of punishment, yet in a community professing itself Christian, the reformation of the offender was to be inseparably connected with it. Hence he made but two capital offenses――murder, and treason against the state; and hence also all prisons were to be considered as workshops, where the offenders might be industriously, soberly, and morally employed. Thus all was begun fairly; the settlers, most of them sensible and religious men, who had experienced the effects of intolerant and bad government, manifesting a laudable desire to lay down at the outset liberal and generous principles for the government in all time coming of the colony which they would have the responsibility of founding.
In the opinion of Penn, something was still wanting before he could proceed another step in the colonization of Pennsylvania. The greater number of his cotemporaries, to whom lands were ceded in these regions by the government at home, held that they had by that cession acquired all the necessary rights, and that no other parties were entitled to a voice in the matter. Not so, thought William Penn. We have seen how he had instructed his commissioners to open up the way to a friendly communication with the native Indians, and how he had sent a letter to the latter, expressing his wish to ‘enjoy the lands with their love and consent.’
His commissioners had obeyed his instructions, and had made a bargain with the natives before his arrival. In order publicly to ratify this bargain in person, Penn, shortly after his arrival, made arrangements for meeting the chief men of the Indians, who were still numerous in the region. A grand convocation, accordingly, of the Indians and settlers, the latter headed by Penn, was held near the site of the present city of Philadelphia, under the spreading boughs of a prodigious elm tree. The natives came to the place of meeting in great numbers, and all armed; Penn came, with his friends, unarmed. The only mark of distinction which the leader of the settlers presented, was a sash of blue silk network, and the parchment-roll which he held in his hand, and which contained the conditions of the treaty. The Indians, on his approach, threw down their arms, and seated themselves on the ground; on which their chiefs――one of whom, as being the principal, wore a chaplet with a small horn attached, the primitive symbol of power――announced to Penn that they were ready to hear him. Tradition has preserved the main points in Penn’s address on this memorable occasion. He began, ‘The Great Spirit, who made him and them, who ruled the heaven and the earth, and who knew the innermost thoughts of man, knew that he and his friends had a hearty desire to live in peace and friendship with them, and to serve them to the utmost of their power. It was not their custom to use hostile weapons against their fellow-creatures, for which reason they had come unarmed. Their object was not to do injury, and thus provoke the Great Spirit, but to do good. They were then met on the broad pathway of good faith and good will, so that no advantage was to be taken on either side, but all was to be openness, brotherhood, and love.’ After these and other words, he unrolled the parchment, and by means of the same interpreter, conveyed to them, article by article, the conditions of the purchase, and the words of the compact then made for their eternal union. ‘Among other things,’ says Mr. Clarkson, ‘they were not to be molested in their lawful pursuits, even in the territory they had alienated, for it was to be common to them and the English. They were to have the same liberty to do all things therein relating to the improvement of their grounds, and providing sustenance for their families, which the English had. If any disputes should arise between the two, they should be settled by twelve persons, half of whom should be English, and half Indians.’ He then paid them for the land, and made them many presents besides from the merchandise which had been spread before them. Having done this, he laid the roll of parchment on the ground, observing again that the ground should be common to both people. He then added that he would not do as the Marylanders did――that is, call them children or brothers only, for often parents were apt to whip their children too severely, and brothers sometimes would differ; neither would he compare the friendship between them and him to a chain, for the rain might sometimes rust it, or a tree might fall and break it; but he should consider them as the same flesh and blood as the Christians and the same as if one man’s body were to be divided into two parts.
He then took up the parchment and presented it to the sachem who wore the horn in the chaplet, and desired him and the other sachems to preserve it carefully for three generations, that their children might know what had passed between them, just as if he had remained with them to repeat it.
The Indian chiefs answered in lengthened speeches, and pledged themselves ‘to live in love with William Penn and his children so long as sun and moon should endure.’ The treaty was concluded――a treaty of which it has been remarked with truthful severity, that it was the only one concluded between savages and Christians that was not ratified by oaths, and the only one that never was broken! The great elm-tree under whose boughs it was concluded stood for a hundred and thirty years after, an object of veneration to the people around.
The purchase of Pennsylvania from the Indians having been concluded, and the land in a great measure surveyed by a person who had been brought out for the purpose, Penn, who had already established his own residence on an island in the Delaware, a few miles below the falls of Trenton, opposite the site of the present Burlington, and to which he had given the name of Pennsburg, next turned his attention to the foundation of a town in some advantageous locality. After mature deliberation, a place, called by the Indians Coaquannoc, was chosen as the site. It was the very spot which had struck the passengers on board the South Shields of Stockton, on their way to Burlington, as so well adapted for a city. A neck of land situated between two navigable rivers, the Delaware and the Schuylkill, with quarries of good building stone in the immediate neighborhood, the place seemed to be marked out by nature for the purpose. Accordingly, previous to Penn’s arrival, some of the settlers whom he had sent out had taken up their habitations on the spot, erecting bark huts, the art of constructing which they were taught by the Indians; or digging caves, which they fitted up so as to afford tolerable accommodation, in the high bank overhanging the Delaware.
The site of the city having been determined on, the surveyor, Thomas Holmes, drew up, under Penn’s direction, a map or plan according to which the streets were to be laid out. ‘According to this plan,’ says Mr. Clarkson, ‘there were to be two large streets, the one fronting the Delaware on the east, and the other the Schuylkill on the west, of a mile in length. A third, to be called High street, of one hundred feet broad, was to run directly through the middle of the city, so as to communicate with the streets now mentioned, at right angles――that is, it was to run through the middle from river to river, or from east to west. A fourth, of the same breadth, to be called Broad street, was to run through the middle also, but to intersect High street at right angles, or to run from north to south. Eight streets, fifty feet wide, were to be built parallel to High street――that is, from river to river; and twenty of the like width, parallel to Broad street, crossing the former. The streets running from north to south were to be named according to their numerical order――First street, Second street, Third street, and so on; and those from east to west according to the woods of the country――as Vine street, Spruce street, Sassafras street, Cedar street, and so on. There was to be, however, a square of ten acres in the middle of the city, each corner of which was to be reserved for public offices. There was to be also, in each quarter of it a square of eight acres, to be used by the citizens in like manner as Moorfields in London.’ To the ‘distractingly regular city,’ as Mr. Dickens calls it, thus mapped out, but not one house of which had yet been built, he gave the name of PHILADELPHIA, in token of the principle of brotherly love on which it was founded――brotherly love among English, Swedes, Dutch, Indians, and men of all languages and nations.
The work of building commenced apace. Within a few months of Penn’s arrival, as many as twenty-three ships, loaded with emigrants from Somersetshire, Cheshire, Lancashire, Wales and Ireland, sailed up the Delaware, and anchored off the site of the new town. Most of the emigrants they brought to the settlement were men such as Penn wished to see in his colony, sober and industrious persons, who had left Great Britain in order that they might lead a quiet and peaceable life, undisturbed by persecution. A number of them brought out with them a variety of implements and pieces of machinery, which were of great use in the infant state of the colony. Accommodated first in temporary huts, or the caves beforementioned, on the banks of the Delaware, they gradually distributed themselves through the settlement at their pleasure――few of them, however, removing far at first from the site of the town. As these removed, and provided themselves with better residences, their old habitations, the Indian-built huts, and the caves on the river bank, were taken possession of by new-comers, who in their turn made way for others, mutual benevolence and assistance being the rule of the settlement. It was in one of the rude caves dug in the river bank that the first native Philadelphian was born. This person, whose name was John Key, and who died in 1767, at the age of eighty-five, always went by the name of First-born.
In the spring of 1683 the affairs of the new colony presented a very flourishing appearance. The more recently-arrived settlers had experienced some hardships during the winter, but on the whole, fewer than might have been anticipated, and the new year was entered upon with cheerfulness and hope. The following extract contains the recollections, in old age, of one of the first Pennsylvanian settlers, by name Richard Townsend, and may be taken at once as a succinct account of the rise of the colony, and as an illustration of the simple and devout character of the early settlers: ‘After our arrival,’ he says, ‘we found it a wilderness. The chief inhabitants were Indians, and some Swedes, who received us in a friendly manner; and though there was a great number of us, the good hand of Providence was seen in a particular manner, in that provisions were found for us by the Swedes and Indians at very reasonable rates, as well as brought from divers other parts that were inhabited before. After some time I set up a mill on Chester Creek, which I brought ready framed from London, which served for grinding corn and sawing boards, and was of great use to us. Besides, with Joshua Tittery, I made a net and caught great quantities of fish, which supplied ourselves and many others; so that, notwithstanding it was thought near three thousand persons came the first year, we were so providentially provided for, that we could buy a deer for about two shillings, and a large turkey for about a shilling, and Indian corn for about two shillings and sixpence per bushel. And as our worthy proprietor treated the Indians with extraordinary humanity, they became very civil and loving to us, and brought us in abundance of venison. After our arrival, there came in about twenty families from High and Low Germany, of religious, good people, who settled about six miles from Philadelphia, and called the place German Town. About the time German Town was laid out, I settled upon my tract of land, which I had bought of the proprietor in England, about a mile from thence, where I set up a house and a corn-mill, which was very useful to the country for several miles round; but there not being plenty of horses, people generally brought their corn on their backs many miles. I remember one man had a bull so gentle that he used to bring his corn on him instead of a horse. Being now settled within six or seven miles of Philadelphia, where I left the principal body of friends, together with the chief place of provisions, flesh meat was very scarce with me for some time, of which I found the want. I remember I was once supplied, by a particular instance of Providence, in the following manner: As I was in my meadow mowing grass, a young deer came and looked on me. I continued mowing, and the deer in the same attention to me. I then laid down my scythe and went towards him, upon which he ran off a small distance. I went to my work again, and the deer continued looking on me; so that several times I left my work to go towards him, but he still kept himself at a distance. At last, as I was going towards him, and he, looking on me, did not mind his steps, he ran forcibly against the trunk of a tree, and stunned himself so much that he fell; upon which I ran forward, and getting upon him, held him by the legs. After a great struggle, in which I had almost tired him out, and rendered him lifeless, I threw him on my shoulders, holding him fast by the legs, and with some difficulty, on account of his fresh struggling, carried him home, about a quarter of a mile, to my house; where, by the assistance of a neighbor who happened to be there, and who killed him for me, he proved very serviceable to my family. I could relate several other acts of Providence of this kind, but omit them for brevity. As people began to spread, and to improve their lands, the country became more fruitful, so that those who came after us were plentifully supplied; and with what we exceeded our wants, we began a small trade abroad; and as Philadelphia increased, vessels were built, and many employed. Both country and trade have been wonderfully increasing to this day, so that, from a wilderness, the Lord, by his good hand of providence, hath made it a fruitful land; on which things to look back, and observe all the steps, would exceed my present purpose.’
To this we may add an extract from a letter written by Penn himself to a society of traders in England, who had purchased a large quantity of land in Pennsylvania, and which sketches the history of the colony down to the date at which it was written, August 1683:――‘The country,’ he says, ‘lies bounded on the east by the river and bay of Delaware and Eastern Sea. It hath the advantage of many creeks, or rivers rather, that run into the main river or bay, some navigable for great ships, some for small craft. Our people are mostly settled upon the upper rivers, which are pleasant and sweet, and generally bounded with good land. The planted part of the province and territories is cast into six counties――Philadelphia, Buckingham, Chester, Newcastle, Kent, and Sussex――containing about four thousand souls. Two general assemblies have been held, and with such concord and despatch, that they sat but three weeks, and at least seventy laws were passed, without one dissent in any material thing. And for the good government of the said counties, courts of justice are established in every county, with proper officers――as justices, sheriffs, clerks, constables――which courts are held every two months. Philadelphia, the expectation of those that are concerned in this province, is at last laid out, to the great content of those here that are anyways interested therein. The situation is a neck of land, and lieth between two navigable rivers, Delaware and Schuylkill; whereby it hath two fronts upon the water, each a mile, and two from river to river. But this I will say for the good providence of God, that of all the many places I have seen in the world, I remember not one better seated; so that it seems to me to have been appointed for a town, whether we regard the rivers, or the conveniency of the coves, docks, springs, the loftiness and soundness of the land, and the air, held by the people of these parts to be very good. It is advanced, within less than a year, to about fourscore houses and cottages, such as they are, where merchants and handicrafts are following their vocations as fast as they can; while the countrymen are close at their farms. Some of them got a little winter corn in the ground last season, and the generality have had a handsome summer crop, and are preparing for their winter corn. They reaped their barley this year in the month called May, the wheat in the month following; so that there is time in these parts for another crop of divers things before the winter season. We are daily in hopes of shipping to add to our number; for, blessed be God, here is both room and accommodation for them. I bless God I am fully satisfied with the country, and entertainment I got in it; for I find that particular content which has always attended me, where God in his providence hath made it my place and service to reside.’
Even in Pennsylvania, young as the colony was, and composed of better materials than most colonies, crime soon made its appearance. Before the first grand jury summoned in the province in March, 1683, a settler named Pickering was brought to trial for issuing counterfeit silver coin――an offense which one would not have expected to find at so early a stage in the history of a new society. The man having been found guilty, was sentenced to pay a fine of forty pounds, to be employed towards the erection of a court-house――a much more lenient sentence than would have been awarded in the mother country. Before the same jury a woman named Margaret Mattson was tried for witchcraft. The verdict returned deserves notice for its peculiarity: it was, that the accused was ‘guilty of having the common fame of being a witch, but not guilty in manner and form as she stands indicted.’ This verdict probably meant that the jury found the prisoner guilty of a notoriously malicious disposition――the true offense of many of the poor wretches whom the barbarous British justice of that day condemned to the stake.
At midsummer 1684 the population of the colony amounted to upwards of seven thousand souls――English, Irish, Scotch, Welsh, Dutch, Swedes, and Germans. About twenty different townships had been established; and Philadelphia could boast of a population of two thousand five hundred persons, well lodged in about three hundred houses, all regularly built according to the prescribed plan.
Attracted by Penn’s reputation for just and honorable dealing, and by reports of the flourishing condition of the settlement, ships were arriving in quick succession with new settlers from different countries of the old world. Seeing the success of his project thus so far happily realized, Penn, who had now been two years in America, resolved to return to England. His reasons for doing so were twofold. In the first place, a dispute had arisen between him and Lord Baltimore, the proprietor of the adjoining province of Maryland, as to the boundaries of their respective territories; and this dispute had at length become so warm, that there was no hope of settling it except by being personally present to represent the state of the case to the home government. Again, intelligence had reached Penn in America that the dissenters in the mother country, and especially those of his own persuasion, were suffering greater persecutions than ever; and even if he had not hoped to effect something in their behalf by his personal influence at court, it was Penn’s nature, wherever he saw persecution going on, to desire to be in the midst of it, either to help the sufferers, or at least to write against the oppressors. Accordingly, on the 12th of August, 1684, William Penn set sail for England, having made all necessary arrangements for the government of the colony during his absence. The supreme power was vested in the provincial council; as president of which he named Thomas Lloyd, a Quaker preacher, who had emigrated from Wales.
In February, 1685, four months after Penn’s return to England, Charles II died, and was succeeded by his brother the Duke of York, under the title of James II. It has already been mentioned that the duke had always manifested a liking for Penn, at first as the son of his friend, Admiral Penn, and afterwards on account of his own merits. This liking he continued to exhibit in a very marked manner after his accession to the crown; and Penn, to improve the opportunities of usefulness which his free access to the king afforded him, took up his residence at Kensington, in order to be near the palace. The following passage from Gerard Croese’s history of the Quakers will give an idea of the intimate terms on which Penn was with James II. ‘William Penn,’ says Croese, ‘was greatly in favor with the king, and the Quakers’ sole patron at court. The king loved him as a singular and sincere friend, and imparted to him many of his secrets and counsels. He often honored him with his company in private, discoursing with him of various affairs, and that not for one, but many hours together, and delaying to hear the best of his peers, who at the same time were waiting for an audience. Penn being so highly favored, acquired thereby a number of friends. Those also who formerly knew him, when they had any favor to ask at court, came to, courted, and entreated Penn to promote their several requests. Penn refused none of his friends any reasonable office he could do for them, but was ready to serve them all, but more especially the Quakers, and these wherever their religion was concerned. They ran to Penn without intermission, as their only pillar and support, who always caressed and received them cheerfully, and effected their business by his interest and eloquence. Hence his house and gates were daily thronged by a numerous train of clients and suppliants, desiring him to present their addresses to his majesty. There were sometimes there two hundred or more.’ Earl Buchan, in his life of Fletcher of Saltoun, relates an instance of Penn’s great influence at the court of James II. By his advice many exiled Presbyterians were permitted to return to their native country, and among others Sir Robert Stuart of Coltness, who had taken refuge in Holland. On his return, however, Sir Robert ‘found his estate and only means of subsistence in the possession of the Earl of Arran, afterwards Duke of Hamilton. Soon after his coming to London he met Penn, who congratulated him on his being restored to his native country. Coltness sighed, and said, “Ah, Mr. Penn, Arran has got my estate, and I fear my situation is about to be now worse than ever.” “What dost thou say?” says Penn; “thou surprisest and grievest me exceedingly. Come to my house to-morrow, and I will set matters right for thee.” Penn went immediately to Arran. “What is this, friend James,” said he to him, “that I hear of thee? Thou hast taken possession of Coltness’s estate. Thou knowest that it is not thine.” “That estate,” says Arran, “I paid a great price for. I received no other reward for my expensive and troublesome embassy in France than this same estate; and I am certainly much out of pocket by the bargain.” “All very well, friend James,” said the Quaker; “but of this assure thyself, that if thou dost not give me this moment an order on thy chamberlain for two hundred pounds to Coltness, to carry him down to his native country, and a hundred a-year to subsist on till matters are adjusted, I will make it as many thousands out of thy way with the king.” Arran instantly complied; and Penn sent for Sir Robert, and gave him the security.’
Although it is certain that, in thus acting the part of private adviser to the king, William Penn had the good of the country in view; and although there can be no doubt that, in that capacity, he rendered many services to the cause of civil and religious liberty, yet the prudence of his conduct in so mixing himself up with court affairs is somewhat questionable. At all events, his intimacy with the king subjected him to many imputations and suspicions, which it was difficult to clear away. The efforts of James to restore the supremacy of the Roman Catholic church being then the great subject of interest in the nation, it was concluded that Penn was privy to all the king’s plans and measures; that he was coöperating with him for the overthrow of Protestantism; in short, that he was a Papist. The absurdity of such rumors would have been evident to any one who had taken the trouble to look back on Penn’s former life; but in a time of public excitement, the extravagance of a story is no security against its being believed. Members of the Church of England, Protestant dissenters of all denominations, even the Quakers themselves, joined in the cry against Penn, and he became one of the most unpopular men in England. To say that he was a Papist, was not enough; he was stigmatised as a Jesuit, wearing the mask of a Quaker, in order the better to accomplish his purposes. It was currently reported that he had been educated at St. Omer’s; that he had taken priest’s orders at Rome; that the pope had given him a dispensation to marry; and that he was in the habit of officiating at the celebration of mass before the king at Whitehall and St. James’. Of these rumors Penn took no notice, except when they reached him through some of his friends, who were anxious that he should take some steps to exculpate himself. On such occasions he used to say that he had a personal regard for the king, and that he believed him to mean well, and at heart to be in favor of toleration; that as for the king’s secret and arbitrary schemes for the restoration of the Catholic religion, he knew nothing of them; that his aim had ever been to use his influence ‘to allay heats, and moderate extremes, even in politics;’ and that the only ground on which he could conceive the charge of his being a Papist to have been founded, was his anxiety to admit all sects alike to the benefits of religious freedom.
These representations were of no avail in clearing his reputation with the public; and accordingly, in the year 1688, when James II was expelled from the kingdom, and William of Orange appointed his successor, Penn was one of those who were likely to suffer from their friendship with the fallen monarch. Four different times he was arrested and examined on a charge of being a Jesuit, and a secret partisan of the exiled king; but no instance of guilt could be proved against him. On one of these occasions, when he was examined before King William in council, a letter was produced which James II had sent to Penn, but which government had intercepted. In this letter James desired Penn ‘to come to his assistance, and to express to him the resentments of his favor and benevolence.’ On being asked why King James wrote to him, Penn replied that this was no fault of his; that if the king chose to write to him, he could not prevent it. As for the king’s meaning in the letter, he supposed it was that he should assist in an attempt to restore him to the throne. This, however, he had no intention to do. He had always loved King James, and had received many favors from him and he should be willing to render him any private service he could, but nothing more. This candid and manly defense produced its effect, and Penn was discharged.
Wearied out with these annoyances, and having no great public duty now to detain him in England, seeing that the toleration he had so long struggled for was realised, at least to a great extent, under the government of King William, Penn was anxious to return to his American colony, where his presence was greatly desiderated, on account of various differences which had broken out among the settlers. He was preparing to set sail in 1690, when his departure was prevented by a fresh charge of treason preferred against him by a wretch of the name of Fuller, who was afterwards publicly declared to be a cheat and impostor, but whose true character was not then known. Not wishing to run the risk of being convicted on the oath of such a man, who would not scruple, of course, as to the means he would employ in making out his case, Penn lived in great seclusion in London for several years, occupying himself in writing replies to the letters he received from America, and in composing numerous tracts on subjects congenial to his tastes and disposition. In the year 1693, his misfortunes reached their height. Early in the year he was deprived of the governorship of Pennsylvania, which was annexed, by royal commission, to that of the province of New York. Towards the end of the same year his wife died. Before this time, however, a reaction had begun in his favor. His own character began to be better appreciated by King William, while that of his accuser, Fuller, became disgracefully notorious. Accordingly, Penn being admitted to plead his cause before the king and council, was honorably acquitted; and shortly after, by a royal order, dated the 20th of August 1694, he was reinstated in his government.
It was not, however, till the year 1699 that Penn returned to Pennsylvania, from which he had been absent about fifteen years. The interval of five years between his restoration to the governorship and his return to the colony was spent in preaching tours through England and Ireland, and in conducting those controversies out of which he appeared to be out of his natural element. In 1696 he contracted a second marriage with Hannah, daughter of Thomas Callowhill, a merchant of Bristol; and not long afterwards his eldest son, by the former marriage, died in his twenty-first year.
Accompanied this time by his wife and family, Penn returned to America in November 1699, and immediately commenced revising the conduct of his substitutes during his absence, and adopting new measures for the good of the colony. A discussion has been raised as to the wisdom and disinterestedness of Penn’s government of Pennsylvania during this his second visit, and indeed during the latter part of his proprietorship; some contending that he did not show the same liberality as at the outset, and others defending him from the charge. Among the former, the most distinguished critic of Penn is Benjamin Franklin, whose judgment is, that Penn began his government as a man of conscience, proceeded in it as a man of reason, and ended it more as a man of the world. Penn’s most zealous apologist against this charge of Franklin is his biographer, Mr. Clarkson. To examine minutely the arguments on both sides, would not answer any good purpose; it may be sufficient to remark, that the charge of Franklin is founded on certain changes introduced by Penn into the political constitution of Pennsylvania, to increase his own authority as governor, and that it does not effect the general spirit in which Penn fulfilled his important trust, which was uniformly that of mildness, justice, and benevolence. It was not to be expected that a constitution or frame of government prepared on the other side of the Atlantic by the mere pen, and transplanted to the new world, would satisfy the actual wants of the colony, or require no change. Accordingly, that there should be differences of opinion between the colonists and the governor on some points, or among the various classes of the colonists themselves, was natural enough; the merit of Penn and the early Pennsylvanians was, that, notwithstanding these differences, the general spirit of the administration was healthy and tolerant. ‘Governments,’ said Penn himself, ‘depend upon men, rather than men upon governments. Like clocks, they go from the motion which men give them. Let men be good, and the government cannot be bad. If it be ill, they will cure it. No government could maintain its constitution, however excellent it was, without the preservation of virtue.’ Thus it was that, although Pennsylvania at its commencement had its political disputes, it had a security for prosperity in the character of its founders.
Two objects which occupied a great share of Penn’s attention in his capacity of governor of Pennsylvania, were the condition of the negroes who had been imported into the settlement, and the civilization of the North American Indians with whom the colonists were brought into contact. ‘Soon after the colony had been planted,’ says Mr. Clarkson, ‘that is in the year 1682, when William Penn was first resident in it, some few Africans had been imported; but more had followed. At this time the traffic in slaves was not branded with infamy as at the present day. It was considered, on the other hand, as favorable to both parties: to the American planters, because they had but few laborers in comparison with the extent of their lands; and to the poor Africans themselves, because they were looked upon as persons thus redeemed out of superstition, idolatry, and heathenism. But though the purchase and sale of them had been adopted with less caution upon this principle, there were not wanting among the Quakers of Pennsylvania those who, soon after the introduction of them there, began to question the moral licitness of the traffic. Accordingly, at the yearly meeting for Pennsylvania in 1688, it had been resolved, on the suggestion of emigrants from Crisheim, who had adopted the principles of William Penn, that the buying, selling, and holding men in slavery was inconsistent with the tenets of the Christian religion. In 1696, a similar resolution had been passed at the yearly meeting of the same religious society for the same province. In consequence of these noble resolutions, the Quakers had begun to treat their slaves in a manner different from that of other people. In 1698, there were instances where they had admitted them into their meeting-houses, to worship in common with themselves.’
Penn, on his return, keenly took up the cause of the negroes, both in his private capacity as a member of the Society of Friends, and in his public one as governor. ‘He began to question,’ says Mr. Clarkson, ‘whether, under the Christian system, men ought to be consigned to unconditional slavery; whether they ought to be bought and sold. This question he determined virtuously, and in unison with the resolutions of the two forementioned yearly meetings of the Quakers. He resolved, as far as his own powers went, upon incorporating the treatment of the negroes, as a matter of Christian duty, into the discipline of the religious body to which he belonged. He succeeded; and a minute was passed by the monthly meeting of Philadelphia, and properly registered there, by which a meeting was appointed more particularly for the negroes once every month; so that, besides the common opportunities they had of collecting religious knowledge by frequenting the places of public worship, there was one day in the month in which, as far as the influence of the monthly meeting extended, they could neither be temporally nor spiritually overlooked. Having secured their good treatment in a certain degree among those of his own persuasion, his next object was to secure it among others in the colony, on whom the discipline of the Quakers had no hold, by a legislative act. This was all he could do at present. To forbid the bringing of slaves into the colony was entirely out of his power. He had no command whatever over the external commerce of the mother country. He was bound, on the other hand, by his charter, to admit her imports, and at this moment she particularly encouraged the slave trade. His first step, then, was to introduce a bill into the assembly which should protect the negroes from personal ill treatment, by fair trials and limited punishments, when they committed offenses; and which, at the same time, by regulating their marriages, should improve their moral condition. This he did with a view of fitting them by degrees for a state of freedom; and as the bill comprehended not only those negroes who were then in the province and territories, but those who should afterwards be brought there, he hoped that it would lay the foundation of a preparatory school for civilization and liberty to all of the African race.’ This bill, unfortunately, he was unable to carry, at least in its full extent. But the good effects of his exertions, so far as they did succeed, were ultimately seen. From the time that the subject of negro treatment was introduced into the discipline of the Pennsylvanian Quakers by Penn, it was never lost sight of by that body. Individual Quakers began to refuse to purchase negroes, others to emancipate those in their possession; and at length it became a law of the society that no member should hold slaves. In the year 1780, not a Quaker possessed a slave in Pennsylvania; and from that time slavery dwindled away in the state, till, in the year 1810, there were only eight hundred slaves in Pennsylvania, in a population of nearly a million.
Penn’s success with the Indians was similar. Unable to do much for them legislatively, he did much by his example and influence, visiting them personally, and trying by all means to establish a friendly commercial intercourse with them. Whatever advances in the arts of civilized life were made in the early part of the eighteenth century by the Indian tribes of the northwest, were due originally to William Penn; and for more than fifty years after his death, his name was remembered among them as that of a ‘true and good man.’
Penn was roused from his quiet and benevolent labors in behalf of the colonists, the negroes, and the Indians, by the intelligence that a movement had been begun in England for the abolition of the proprietary system of governing the American colonies. Deeply interested in this intelligence, he thought it due to his interests to embark for England, where, accordingly, he arrived in December 1701.
The bill which had brought him from America was not proceeded with; and the accession of Queen Anne to the throne in 1702 was a favorable event for his interests. Penn, however, never returned to America, but spent the remaining sixteen years of his life in England. It is melancholy to add that these last years of the existence of so good a man were clouded with misfortune. His outlay on Pennsylvania had far exceeded the immediate returns which the property could yield; and the consequence was, that he was involved in pecuniary embarrassments. To meet these, he was obliged, in 1709, to mortgage the province for £6600. The loss of a lawsuit added to his difficulties; and for some time he was a prisoner within the rules of Fleet. In 1712, he agreed to sell his rights to government for £12,000. The bargain, however, was never concluded, owing to his being incapacitated by three apopletic fits, which, following each other rapidly, deprived him to a great extent of memory and consciousness. He lingered on, however, till the 30th of July 1718, when he died at Ruscombe, in Berkshire, in the seventy-fourth year of his age.
Penn’s appearance and personal habits are thus described by Mr. Clarkson:――‘He was tall in stature, and of an athletic make. In maturer years he was inclined to corpulency; but used a great deal of exercise. His appearance at this time was that of a fine portly man. He was very neat, though plain in his dress. He walked generally with a cane. He had a great aversion to the use of tobacco. However, when he was in America, though he was often annoyed by it, he bore it with good-humor. Several of his particular friends were one day assembled at Burlington; while they were smoking their pipes, it was announced to them that the governor’s barge was in sight, and coming up the river. The company supposed that he was on his way to Pennsburg, about seven miles higher up. They continued smoking; but being afterwards unexpectedly informed that he had landed at a wharf near them, and was just entering the house, they suddenly concealed their pipes. Perceiving, from the smoke, when he entered the room what they had been doing, and discovering that the pipes had been hid, he said pleasantly, ‘Well, friends, I am glad to see that you are at least ashamed of your old practice.’ ‘Not entirely so,’ replied Samuel Jennings, one of the company; ‘but we preferred laying down our pipes to the danger of offending a weak brother.’ They then expressed their surprise at this abrupt visit, as, in his passage from Philadelphia, not only the tide, but the wind had been furiously against him. He replied, with a smile on his countenance, ‘that he had been sailing against wind and tide all his life.’
The colony made rapid progress after Penn’s death, settlers being attracted to it from all parts of the old world by the freedom of its constitution and its natural advantages. The proprietorship was vested in the heirs of Penn by his second marriage, his children by his first marriage having inherited his British estates, which, at the time of Penn’s death were of greater value than his American property. In the year 1752, while Pennsylvania was still a British colony, the French made encroachments on it from the north-west, and built Fort Duquesne――now Pittsburg. Philadelphia, the capital of Pennsylvania, speedily grew in size and importance. Its name is associated with some of the most distinguished events in the history of the United States. It was there that the delegates of the various colonies assembled in the year 1774, when they declared against the right of the mother country to tax the colonies; and it was also there that the famous declaration of independence was proclaimed in 1776. On the conclusion of the war of independence, Penn’s descendants sold their right of proprietorship over Pennsylvania to the American government for £130,000. Philadelphia continued to be the seat of the federal government till the year 1800. In the present day it is a large and populous city, celebrated for the number of its foundations and benevolent institutions, all less or more originating in the philanthropic principles early introduced into Pennsylvania.
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
This celebrated individual, the youngest but two of a family of seventeen children, was born at Boston, in Massachusetts, on the 17th of January, 1706. His father was at first a dyer, and afterwards a soap-boiler and tallow-chandler, and had quitted England in order to escape the prosecution of the non-conformists, under Charles II. His son Benjamin was sent to a grammar-school at eight years of age, with a view of being educated for the church; but this design was soon abandoned, and the subject of our memoir, after having made a slight progress in writing and arithmetic, returned home, and assisted at his father’s trade. This employment was very irksome to Franklin, whose inclinations had become directed to a sea-faring life; and it was at length agreed that he should be apprenticed to his cousin who was a cutler. An obstacle to this, however, arose in the amount of premium required, and he was eventually bound, in his twelfth year, to his brother James, a printer.
He soon made great progress in this business, and an acquaintance formed with several booksellers’ apprentices, enabled him to indulge his love of reading, by borrowing books, which they had facilities to obtain. ‘It has often happened to me,’ he says, in a memoir of the early part of his life, ‘to pass the greater part of the night in reading by my bed-side, when the book had been lent to me in the evening, and was to be returned the next morning, lest it might be missed or wanted.’ This disposition being noticed by a Mr. Matthew Adams, who had a large collection of books, he offered the use of them to Franklin, who soon became an author, and composed several little pieces in verse. Two of these, a ballad, called ‘The Lighthouse Tragedy,’ and a song on the noted pirate, Blackbeard, were, by his brother’s directions, printed: but the most unpoetic part of the story remains to be told――their author was despatched about the town to sell them. Franklin says, ‘the first had a prodigious run, because the event was recent, and had made a great noise;’ but ‘they were wretched verses in point of style――mere blindman’s ditties.’ His father seems to have been of the same opinion, for he ridiculed the productions; ‘and thus,’ says their author, ‘my exultation was checked, and I escaped the misfortune of being a very miserable poet.’ At this period he formed an acquaintance with a young man of the name of Collins, who was also a great lover of books. They were frequently together, and were both fond of disputation, which they sometimes carried on in writing. This, probably, assisted in bringing out some of the dormant qualities of Franklin’s mind; but his style was greatly inferior to that of his rival, to improve which he took the following method:――‘I bought,’ he says, ‘an odd volume of The Spectator, read it over and over, and was much delighted with it. I thought the writing excellent, and wished, if possible, to imitate it. With this view, I took some of the papers, and making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid them by a few days; and then, without looking at the book, tried to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted sentiment at length, and as fully as it had been expressed before in any suitable words that should occur to me. Then I compared my Spectator with the original, discovered some of my faults, and corrected them. But I found I wanted a stock of words, or a readiness in recollecting and using them, which I thought I should have acquired before that time, if I had gone on making verses; since the continual search for words of the same import, but of different length to suit the measure, or of different sound, for the rhyme, would have laid me under constant necessity of searching for variety, and also have tended to fix that variety in my mind, and make me master of it. Therefore I took some of the tales in the Spectator, and turned them into verse; and, after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the prose, turned them back again. I also, sometimes, jumbled my collection of hints into confusion, and, after some weeks, endeavored to reduce them into the best order, before I began to form the full sentences and complete the subject. This was to teach me method in the arrangement of my thoughts. By comparing my works with the original, I discovered many faults, and corrected them; but sometimes had the pleasure to fancy that, in certain particulars of small consequence, I had been fortunate enough to improve the method of the language; and this encouraged me to think that I might, in time, come to be a tolerable English writer, of which I was extremely ambitious.
Franklin added to his habits of industry a self-denial and control over his passions, even at this early age, which were truly surprising. When about sixteen, a work fell into his hands, which recommended vegetable diet: this he determined to follow, and undertook to provide for himself, upon his brother’s allowing him one-half of the ordinary expense of his board, of which half, even, he contrived, by great abstemiousness, to save a considerable portion. Here was a new fund for the purchase of books; and he accordingly obtained such as enabled him to perfect himself in those elementary branches of knowledge in which he was deficient, among which were arithmetic and geometry.
In 1720, his brother established a public paper, entitled The New England Courant, the second that had appeared in America. Franklin was employed to distribute the copies, and, occasionally, being present at the meetings which were held at his brother’s house, by a number of literary characters, who were contributors, his love of authorship was rekindled, and he sent a communication in the usual way, but in a feigned hand. It was received, and commented upon in Franklin’s hearing; who, in his memoir, tells us, he had, ‘the exquisite pleasure to find that it met with their approbation, and that, in the various conjectures they made respecting its author, no one was mentioned who did not enjoy a high reputation in the country for talents and genius.’ Many other articles were written, and forwarded in the same manner, and, being equally well received, their author made himself known; expecting that the discovery would insure for him more respect and greater fraternal indulgence than he had previously experienced. His brother, however, continued to treat him with much rigor, and being a man of ungovernable passions, frequently proceeded to the extremity of blows. ‘This severe and tyrannical treatment,’ says Franklin, ‘contributed, I believe, to imprint on my mind that aversion to arbitrary power, which, during my whole life, I have ever preserved.’
The brothers, however, had soon occasion to be reconciled with each other. James, in consequence of an offensive article in the Courant, was taken into custody, and imprisoned for a month; Benjamin, during that period, was intrusted with the management of the paper, in which he inserted several pasquinades against the governor and other persons in authority. James’s enlargement was accompanied with an arbitrary order, that he should ‘no longer print the newspaper called The New England Courant.’ To evade this order, it was determined that his brother’s indentures should be given up, and the paper, in future, be printed in the name of Benjamin Franklin. A new contract was at the same time secretly entered into between the parties, by which Benjamin’s services were to be secured for the remainder of the term of his former apprenticeship; but, a fresh quarrel arising, Franklin thought proper to separate from his brother; ‘dishonorably,’ as he candidly acknowledges, ‘availing himself of the circumstance that the contract could not safely be produced.’
Being unable to obtain employment in Boston, he determined upon going to New York; but, apprehending his father would object to this resolution, he sold a part of his books to procure a small sum of money, and departed privately. On his arrival at the latter place, he applied for employment to a printer, who, having no occasion for his services, recommended him to extend his journey to Philadelphia.
His arrival at Philadelphia is thus recorded by himself:――‘I was in my working-dress, my best clothes being to come from New York by sea. I was covered with dirt; my pockets were filled with shirts and stockings; I was unacquainted with a single soul in the place, and knew not where to seek a lodging. Fatigued with walking and rowing, and having passed the night without sleep, I was extremely hungry, and all my money consisted of a Dutch dollar, and about a shilling’s worth of coppers, which I gave to the boatmen for my passage. At first they refused it on account of my having rowed; but I insisted on their taking it. Man is sometimes more generous when he has little money than when he has plenty; perhaps to prevent his being thought to have but little. I walked towards the top of the street, gazing about, till near Market Street, where I met a boy with bread, and, inquiring where he had bought it, I went immediately to the baker he directed me to. I asked for biscuits, meaning such as we had at Boston; that sort, it seems, was not then made in Philadelphia. I then asked for a threepenny loaf, and was told they had none. Not knowing the different prices, nor the names of the different sorts of bread, I told him to give me threepennyworth of any sort. He gave me, accordingly, three great puffy rolls. I was surprised at the quantity, but took it; and, having no room in my pockets, walked off with a roll under each arm, and eating the other. Thus I went up Market Street, passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future wife’s father, when she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certainly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance. Then I turned and went down Chestnut street, and part of Walnut street, eating my roll all the way; and, coming round, found myself again at Market street wharf, near the boat I came in, to which I went for a draught of river water; and, being filled with one of my rolls, gave the other two to a woman and her child that came down the river in the boat with us, and were waiting to go farther. Thus refreshed, I walked again up the street, which, by this time, had many clean dressed people in it, who were all walking the same way. I joined them, and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of the Quakers, near the market. I sat down among them, and, after looking round awhile, and hearing nothing said, being very drowsy, through labor and want of rest the preceding night, I fell fast asleep, and continued so till the meeting broke up, when some one was kind enough to rouse me. This, therefore, was the first house I was in, or slept in, in Philadelphia.’
He was not long in obtaining employment with a printer of the name of Keimer; and, during his stay at Philadelphia, was favorably noticed by the governor, Sir William Keith, who frequently invited him to his table; and at length promised to advance the funds requisite to place him in business on his own account. He had previously advised his young protegé to proceed to Boston and ask assistance from his father, who, however, gave no encouragement to the scheme, but dismissed Franklin with his blessing, who retured to Philadelphia. Sir William now recommended him to visit England, in order to procure an adequate stock of printing materials, and establish a connection with some London booksellers; and offered to furnish him with letters of credit and introduction. Upon this recommendation, Franklin set sail for England, but the ship which carried him to London, in December, 1724, was found to have carried none of the promised letters from the governor of Pennsylvania.
He was now thrown entirely upon his own resources, and having taken lodgings in Little Britain, at one shilling and ninepence per week, he got into work at Palmer’s printing-house, in Bartholomew Close, in which employ he continued for nearly a year. From Palmer’s he removed to Watts’s, near Lincoln’s Inn Fields, where, by his companions, he was dubbed the Water-American. ‘From my example,’ he says, ‘a great many of them left off their muddling breakfast of beer, bread, and cheese, finding they could, with me, be supplied from a neighboring house with a large porringer of hot water-gruel, sprinkled with pepper, crumbled with bread, and a bit of butter in it, for the price of a pint of beer, viz., three-halfpence.’ About this period, he fell in with some deistical companions, renounced his religious principles, commenced sceptic, and published A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain, in answer to Wollaston’s Religion of Nature. This work introduced him to the notice of Sir Hans Sloane, Dr. Mandeville, Dr. Pemberton, and other eminent persons, though Franklin acknowledged the printing of it as one of the errors of his life. After having been in London eighteen months, he accepted the offer of a Mr. Denham, a merchant of Philadelphia, to return with him as his clerk, at a salary of £50. He arrived at Philadelphia on the 11th of October, 1726: but, Mr. Denham dying in the following year, his clerk was compelled to return to his former occupation, and again entered into the employ of Keimer; acting in the several capacities of letter-founder, ink-maker, engraver, and copper-plate-printer. The press which he used in the latter calling was constructed by himself, and was the first erected in America. A quarrel with Keimer, led to a final separation between him and Franklin, who now entered into partnership with a young man of the name of Meredith. ‘We had scarcely,’ says Franklin, ‘opened our letters and put the press in order, before George House, an acquaintance of ours, brought a countryman to us, whom he had met in the street inquiring for a printer. All our cash had been expended in the variety of particulars we had been obliged to procure, and this countryman’s five shillings, being our first fruits, and coming so seasonably, gave me more pleasure than any money I have ever since received.’ The frugality and industry of Franklin soon brought their business into a thriving condition, and he began to think of establishing a newspaper, when he was anticipated by Keimer, who started one of his own. He now wrote, in conjunction with a friend, a series of papers called The Busy Body, which so much eclipsed the publication of his rival, that he was glad to dispose of his paper, at any price, to Franklin. Meredith proving inattentive to business, Franklin was pursuaded to dissolve partnership, and take the concern entirely into his own hands, which he was enabled to accomplish, through the liberal assistance of two acquaintances, who were members of the Junto. This was a club, established by Franklin, for the discussion of subjects connected with morals, politics, and natural philosophy; it eventually became the centre of thought for the whole people; and contributed, in a great degree, to the success of their struggle for independence.
In September, 1730, he married a female to whom he had been previously attached, when she was Miss Read, but who, during his absence, had conceived herself forgotten, and given her hand to a potter, of the name of Rogers. This person had involved himself in debt, and fled to the West Indies, but Franklin’s affection was not damped by the probability of the lady’s first husband being still alive, and he consented to make her his spouse.
In 1732, he published his celebrated almanac, under the name of Richard Saunders, more generally known as Poor ‘Richard’s Almanack,’ and which became so celebrated for its numerous happily-expressed and valuable moral maxims. These were collected, many years afterwards, into a little tract, called The Way to Wealth; having for its object the extension of industry and economy, habits which no man ever practiced more successfully than Franklin himself. Dr. Bard a Scotchman, residing in Philadelphia, used to say to him, ‘The industry of this Franklin is superior to any thing of the kind I ever witnessed. I see him still at work when I return from the club at night, and I find he is at it again in the morning, before his neighbors are out of bed.’ On one occasion, having laid down a rule that he would compose a sheet a day of a particular work, in folio, he had the misfortune, after his evening’s labor, to derange two whole pages. Such, however, was his perseverance, that he distributed and composed them anew before he retired to bed.
In 1736, he commenced his political career, by being appointed clerk to the general assembly; and, in the following year, entered upon the duties of post-master. He was also appointed an alderman, and put into the commission of the peace; but took no part in the business of the bench, commonly employing himself, while sitting with his brother magistrates, ‘in contriving magic squares and circles.’ From this period, till 1744, he was actively and usefully employed in instituting fire companies, erecting public buildings, and establishing philosophical societies. In 1744, during the war between England and France, he particularly distinguished himself in procuring means of resistance against the enemy, and succeeded in bringing over the Quakers to give their pecuniary aid. They were, however, particularly scrupulous not to acknowledge that their grants were connected with the principle of warfare. When, therefore, the assembly was applied to, for a certain quantity of gunpowder, the members would not comply with the request; but voted £3,000 to be placed in the hands of the governor, ‘for the purchase of bread, flour, wheat, or other grain.’ The governor was advised not to accept the grant, but he replied――‘I shall take the money; “other grain” means gunpowder.’ Franklin, hearing of this, suggested that the insurance companies, which were also well stocked with Quakers, might likewise very properly contribute their aid, by a grant for the purchase of fire-engines.
In 1745, he published an account of his newly-invented fire-place; and, in 1747, was elected a member of the general assembly; in which he was an active defender of the rights of the citizens in opposition to the encroachments of the proprietaries. He introduced several measures relative to the local government of Philadelphia; and busily employed himself in establishing public schools and founding hospitals. In 1749, he took one of his workmen into partnership; and was thus enabled to devote a considerable portion of his time to scientific pursuits, of which it is now time to give some account. At this period, our readers need not, perhaps, be told that electricity was a science which could hardly be said to consist of anything more than a collection of unsystematized and ill-understood facts. Franklin’s attention seems to have been first directed to this subject in 1746, when, being at Boston, he met with a Dr. Spence, who had lately arrived from Scotland, and showed him some electrical experiments. They were not very expertly performed, ‘but being,’ said Franklin, ‘on a subject quite new to me, they equally surprised and pleased me. Soon after my return to Philadelphia, our library company received, from Mr. Peter Collinson, F. R. S., of London, a present of a glass tube, with some account of the use of it in making experiments. I eagerly seized the opportunity of repeating what I had seen at Boston; and, by much practice, acquired great readiness in performing those also which we had an account of from England, adding a number of new ones. I say much practice, for my house was continually full, for some time, with persons who came to see these new wonders. To divide a little of this incumbrance among my friends, I caused a number of similar tubes to be blown in our glass-house, with which they furnished themselves; so that we had, at length, several performers.’
None were now more zealous in electrical investigations, than Franklin; he was continually devising new experiments, and falling upon important results. He exhibited the power of points in drawing and throwing off the electrical matter; and made the grand discovery of a positive and negative state of electricity. By means of this discovery he satisfactorily explained the phenomena of the Leyden phial, which was at that time exciting the wonder of all Europe, and had caused philosophers so much perplexity. His happiest conjecture, however, was that of the identity between lightning and the electric fluid, though it was not till 1752, that he was enabled, effectually, to establish this important fact. He had long entertained the bold idea of ascertaining the truth of this doctrine, by actually drawing lightning from the clouds; and at length it occurred to him that he might procure communication between them and the earth by means of a common kite. With this simple apparatus, he awaited the approach of a thundercloud, and the kite was raised, but no sign of electricity appeared. His suspense and anxiety were almost insupportable; when suddenly he observed the loose fibres of the string to move; he presented his knuckle to the key by which it was held, and received a strong spark. On this experiment depended the fate of his theory. Repeated sparks were drawn from the key――a phial was charged――a shock given――and this brilliant discovery placed upon an immutable basis.
Franklin, from time to time, forwarded accounts of his experiments to England, for the information of the Royal Society; but they were not admitted into the printed transactions of that learned body. His friend, Mr. Collinson, gave them to Cave, for insertion in The Gentleman’s Magazine; but Cave, with great judgment, thought proper to publish them separately, in a pamphlet, the preface to which was written by Dr. Fothergill. By the additions which were subsequently made to this little work, it swelled into a quarto volume, and became the text-book of the science. It was translated into French, German, and Latin, and attracted the attention of all the philosophers in Europe. In France, the highest honors were paid to Franklin’s labors: Buffon, D’Alibard, and De Lor, repeated and confirmed his experiments; and the king himself, Louis XV, became a spectator of them. Russia, even, participated in this ardor, and the amiable Richmann fell a martyr to his zeal――an unfortunate flash from the conductor putting a period to his existence. Eventually, the Royal Society began to reconsider the matter; and Franklin’s grand experiment, the object of which had, at first, been treated with ridicule, was verified by Canton, and other members. Franklin was, accordingly, without solicitation, elected a fellow, and had paid to him the unusual honor of being chosen without payment of the customary fees. He was also presented with the Copley medal for the year 1753; and, at a subsequent period, he had the degree of LL.D. conferred upon him by the Universities of St. Andrew’s, Edinburgh, and Oxford.
We now resume our account of Franklin’s political career. In the year just mentioned, he was presented with the degree of M.A., by the College of Cambridge, in New England; and, in the same year, he was appointed deputy postmaster-general for the British colonies. The American post-office had never previously made any returns for the revenue; but under the management and improvements of Franklin, it yielded to the crown three times as much as the post-office of Ireland. In 1754, he drew up his celebrated Albany Plan of Union, as a means of defense against the depredations of the Indians. The rejection of this plan was followed by the introduction of British troops into the colonies; this produced taxation, and was soon succeeded by the war, which ended in the final loss of America to the mother-country.
In 1755, when the expedition of Gen. Braddock, to dispossess the French of some of their encroachments, was in preparation, a difficulty arose for want of wagons, which Franklin supplied to the number of one hundred and fifty. The expedition, however, failing, he was in danger of a ruinous loss, but was relieved from his obligations by the interference of the governor. He was, subsequently, instrumental in forming a militia bill; and he was appointed colonel of the Philadelphia regiment of one thousand two hundred men, which he held until the troops were disbanded by order of the English government.
On the 27th of July, 1757, Franklin arrived in London, in the character of agent to the general assembly, for the purpose of advocating the privileges of the people against the illiberal and unjust encroachments of the proprietaries. Much prejudice and delusion existed at the time in relation to the affairs of America; and Franklin, in consequence, published, anonymously, a work, entitled An Historical Review of the Constitution and Government of Pennsylvania. During his sojourn in England, he was engaged in a variety of political controversies, and was examined before a committee of the whole house of commons, relative to the practicability of enforcing the stamp act, which, in consequence of the information he afforded, was repealed. He returned to Philadelphia in the summer of 1762; and shortly afterwards received the thanks of the assembly, and a grant of £5,000. In 1764, through the exertions of the proprietaries, he lost his seat in the house; but there still remained in it a majority of his friends, and he was appointed to resume his agency at the court of Great Britain.
In 1766, he visited Holland and Germany; and, in the following year, France, where Louis XV showed him particular marks of attention. After his return to England he got embroiled relative to some political papers which had been clandestinely furnished to him, and which he forwarded to America, where they were published. He was, in consequence, dismissed from his office of deputy postmaster-general, after having been summoned before the privy-council, and severely censured. He was now looked upon by government with considerable jealousy, and it was proposed to arrest him upon the charge of fomenting a rebellion; but being apprised of this intention, he contrived to leave England secretly, in March, 1775.
On his return to Philadelphia, he was elected a delegate to the congress, and took an active part in bringing about a revolution. It was at this period he wrote the following memorable letter to his old friend in England, Mr. Strahan, the king’s printer:――
‘PHILADELPHIA, July 5, 1775. ‘Mr. STRAHAN:――You are a member of parliament, and one of that majority which has doomed my country to destruction. You have begun to burn our towns, and murder our people. Look upon your hands! They are signed with the blood of your relations. You and I were long friends:――you are now my enemy, and I am Yours, ‘B. FRANKLIN.’
In 1776, although in his seventy-first year, he was called upon by Congress, to proceed to France, for the purpose of completing the negotiations begun by Silas Deane; and, in 1777, he was appointed plenipotentiary to the French court. He had now not only created a host of political enemies in Great Britain, but was also attacked by certain philosophical opponents. Mr. Wilson, F.R.S., protested against pointed conductors, and performed several experiments, in order to prove the superiority of knobs. In consequence of Wilson’s declarations, the pointed lightning conductors were taken down from the queen’s palace, a circumstance which gave rise to the following epigram:――
‘Whilst you, great George, for safety hunt, And sharp conductors change for blunt, The empire’s out of joint: Franklin a wiser course pursues: And all your thunder fearless views, By keeping to the point.’
A definitive treaty of peace having been signed between Great Britain and the United States, on the 3d of September, 1783, Franklin requested to be recalled home. He arrived at Philadelphia in September, 1785, and was afterwards twice elected president of the assembly. His last public act was the signing of a memorial, on the 12th of February, 1789, for the abolition of slavery.
He had been, for many years, subject to attacks of the gout, to which, in 1782, was added a nephritic colic; and, about the same period, he suffered the first pains of a disease, the most distressing in the list of bodily infirmities. They were three things he had always dreaded; and he used to observe, that, in relation to this complication of disorders, he was ‘something like the woman who had always entertained a great aversion to presbyterians, parsons, and Irishmen, and at last married an Irish presbyterian parson.’ These maladies confined him to his bed during the greater part of the last year of his life; but, notwithstanding the severe pains he labored under, his natural cheerfulness never forsook him. His mental faculties were unimpaired, and his memory continued unaffected to the last hour of his existence. He was often obliged to take large doses of opium; but, in his moments of ease, he amused himself with reading, or in affectionate conversation with his family. He died on the 17th of April, 1790, and was buried on the 21st of April, in the cemetery of Christ’s Church, Philadelphia. On the occasion of his funeral, every possible mark of public respect was shown to his memory: a general mourning, for one month, was ordered throughout America; and the national assembly of France paid a like honor in remembrance of his virtues.
PETER THE GREAT.
Peter, Czar, or Emperor of Russia, usually styled THE GREAT, was one of the most remarkable persons in the history of modern times. A sketch of his life may therefore prove interesting, as furnishing an example of what may be accomplished for the benefit of mankind by one enterprising mind. But first as regards the country over which it was his fortune to rule.
Russia is a territory of vast extent in the northern part of Europe and Asia. Presenting every variety of climate, this extensive region, which is really an aggregation of various countries, was inhabited in the seventeenth century by a barbarous people, having little intercourse with the more civilized nations of the earth. The degree of advancement in knowledge or social usages was very much that of Turkey in recent times The Russian people knew little or nothing of the useful arts, were rude in manners, dressed in cumbrous garments, and the men wore long beards, according to the ancient Asiatic custom. There was scarcely any kind of school-learning or education; even the priests were grossly ignorant and superstitious. For one thing, they believed and taught that the world was created in autumn, when the fruits were ripe; unconscious that, when it is autumn in one hemisphere, it is spring in the other.
At the period to which we refer――the middle of the seventeenth century, or about the time of the Commonwealth in England――the Russian people might have been divided into four classes: the Boyards or noblemen who estimated their wealth by the number of serfs or slaves upon their estates――these wretched serfs, of course, by far the most numerous body of all; and the military, a turbulent set, who, as we shall see, often resorted to the most violent means to obtain their ends. Indeed so common and revolutionary had been revolts of the Strelitzes, or soldiery of the capital, that the government has been epigrammatically called ‘a despotism tempered by assassination.’ The fourth class, and one which often took part in the factions of the time, were the priesthood, the established religion being the form of the Greek church. The monarchy was absolute, the will of the sovereign being law; but it was not, as Poland was, an elective monarchy. The male issue, however, of the ancient sovereigns failing, and several pretenders to the throne having miserably perished, the chief Boyards assembled a council, at which they elected a youth, named Michael Romanow, to be czar. He was the son of a powerful nobleman, and related, by the mother’s side, to the ancient czars. This took place in 1613, at the period when his father was detained a prisoner by the Poles, with whom the Russians were at war. An exchange of prisoners, however, was soon after effected; and it is thought that, during the life of the old man, he governed, though in his son’s name. It is not our purpose to enter into the wars or troubles of this reign. Michael Romanow made no alteration in the state, either to the improvement or corruption of the administration. He died in 1645, and was succeded by his son Alexis Michaelowitz (or son of Michael), who ascended the throne by hereditary right.
Alexis, who was the father of Peter the Great, appears to have been more enlightened than any of his predecessors. He introduced manufactures of silk and linen; and, though unable to keep them up, he had the merit of their first establishment. He endeavored to form something like a code of laws, imperfect though they were; and he peopled the deserts about the Wolga and the Kama with Polish and Tartarian families, whom he had taken prisoners in his wars, employing them in agriculture――before his reign, prisoners of war being the slaves of those to whose lot they fell. But he had little time to perfect his plans, being snatched away by a sudden death in 1677, at the age of forty-six. Alexis had been twice married. By his first wife, the daughter of the Boyard Meloslauski, he left two sons, and either four or six daughters. By his second wife, who was the daughter of the Boyard Nariskin, and who survived him, he left Peter and the Princess Nathalia, the former having been born at Moscow on the 30th of May 1672. Alexis had caused his eldest son, Theodore, to be acknowledged his successor a year before his death, and he ascended the throne at the age of fifteen: this prince inherited his father’s abilities and disposition, but was of a sickly, feeble constitution. The second son was Ivan, or John, who was miserably infirm, being almost blind and deaf, and subject to convulsions. Of the six daughters, we need only mention Sophia, who was less remarkable for her great talents than for the wicked and mischievous use she made of them.
Peter was but four years old at the time of his father’s death, and was for a while little regarded. But the czars married without regard to birth, and had likewise the power of choosing a successor; and, conscious that his brother Ivan was incapacitated by his infirmities for governing, Theodore, on his deathbed, nominated his youngest brother Peter heir to the crown. This occurred when Peter was in his tenth year, but not before his promising abilities had aroused the jealousy of his sister Sophia. Probably from the difficulty of finding suitable husbands for them, it had been the custom for the daughters of the czars to retire into a monastery; but this designing princess had no such inclination; and on the death of Theodore, she found herself almost the natural guardian of two brothers, one of whom was, from his infirmities, incapable of governing; and the other, on account of his youth, she believed it possible to depose. In a word, she aimed at sovereignty, although pretending to advocate the claim of Ivan, and representing that she desired only to hold the reins for him.
A succession of revolts was the consequence of her stratagems and intrigues; and the most savage cruelties were perpetrated by all parties. Sophia evidently sought some pretense for deposing Peter, and accordingly she employed emissaries to stir up the soldiery against the Nariskin family, especially the two uncles of Peter, spreading a report that one of them had put on the imperial robes, and had attempted to strangle prince John; adding, moreover, that the late czar, Theodore, had been poisoned at their instigation by a Dutch physician. Finally, she made out a list of forty noblemen, whom she denounced as enemies to the state, and deserving of death. The mutineers began by attacking two nobles, named Dalgorouki and Matheof, whom they threw out of the palace windows. These unfortunates were received by the Strelitzes on the points of their spears, and speedily despatched, their dead bodies being afterwards dragged into the great square. Soon after this, meeting with Athanasius Nariskin, brother to the young czarina, and one of the uncles of Peter, they murdered him in like manner, and, breaking open the doors of a church where some of the proscribed had taken refuge, they dragged them from the altar, and stabbed them to death. But it would be a horrible task to narrate the atrocities which followed――the murder of the innocent physician and of the other Nariskin, and the dreadful tortures by the knout, and other forms which were practiced on the wretched victims.
Finally, Sophia succeeded in associating the name of her imbecile brother in the sovereignty; the two princes, John and Peter, being proclaimed joint czars in 1682, and herself denominated co-regent with them. She then publicly approved of the outrages which had been committed, and rewarded the perpetrators of them, confiscating, for this purpose, the estates of the proscribed; and so completely did she enjoy all the honors of a sovereign, thet her bust was engraven on the public coin. She signed all despatches, held the first place in the council, and exercised unlimited power. But new insurrections broke out; and finally, she was induced to strengthen her authority by admitting to her councils her favorite and lover, prince Basil Galitzin, whom she created generalissimo, minister of state, and lord-keeper. This new minister was a man of distinguished abilities, and had received a much better education than the rest of his countrymen. One of his prudent measures was to distribute the most mutinous of the Strelitzes among different regiments, situated at distant parts of the empire.
While Galitzin was engaged with the army, Sophia governed and acted at Moscow as if altogether independent of her brothers the czars. A circumstance, however, soon took place which put an end to her intrigues and interference. In 1689, Peter’s marriage with Eudoxia Federowna Lapuchin, effected through the influence of his prudent mother, withdrew him in a great measure from those dissipating vices which Sophia had done all in her power to encourage, and thus gave him a new hold on the affections of the people. Sophia having desired to be present, as regent, at a religious celebration at which czars themselves were commonly present, Peter opposed it in vain; and a few faithful Strelitzes having betrayed to him her intention to assassinate him, with his wife, mother, and sister, he took refuge with them for a while in the convent of the Trinity. Here he summoned to his aid General Gordon, a Scotchman, who, with all the foreign officers, immediately hastened to Peter. The young czar soon found himself surrounded by numerous friends; and these, animated by his personal bravery, and encouraged by his affable and generous demeanor, quickly put him in a position to resist the machinations of his sister. He accordingly compelled Sophia to take the veil, while Galitzin and a few others were banished to Siberia. Peter now hastened to Moscow, into which he made a solemn entrance, and in sight of all the people embraced Ivan, who left the whole of the power in the more able hands of his brother. From this instant he began to reign in reality as Peter I, although the name of the infirm Ivan remained as joint czar till his death in 1696.
One of the most cruel wrongs Sophia had committed on her brother, was that of keeping him in ignorance, and surrounding him, at the very age when character is formed, with every temptation to excess and dissipation. It cannot be supposed that he escaped the contamination of such lures; but most truly has it been said, that ‘his virtues were all his own, his vices those of his education and country.’ He early evinced one quality of a great mind――the comprehension of his own ignorance, joined to the most ardent thirst for knowledge. His, too, was that faculty inseparable from the man born for a great ruler――that quick and certain appreciation of the character and talents of others, which always enabled him to know the fit instrument with which to work out his plans. Thus, happening to dine one day at the house of the Danish minister, he was struck with the manners and conversation of the private secretary, at once perceiving the superiority of his mind. This was a youthful Genevese, named Le Fort, who had been educated for a mercantile profession; but being of an adventurous disposition, and early displaying decided military talents, had enlisted as a volunteer, and served in the low countries. After encountering several dangers, and having a narrow escape of transportation to Siberia, though for what offense we cannot discover, he found his way to Moscow, and obtained employment in the capacity we have mentioned.
Le Fort had received the advantages of a European education, and possessed great powers of observation. It was he who explained to the czar the wonderful superiority of the trained and disciplined troops of western Europe over the wild soldiery of Russia; and now it was that Peter conceived the daring plan of annihilating the Strelitzes, who had so often been instrumental in setting up and deposing monarchs. But his measures were at present cautious and secret. Soon after his friendship――for it deserved the name――with his young adviser, the czar formed a regiment on the European system, to which he appointed Le Fort colonel; and, to give his people a lesson of subordination, he entered himself as drummer! Indeed, as we shall see, it was his custom to aim at the root of all knowledge, and thoroughly master the subjects he took in hand; and he knew that he could not more thoroughly acquire a knowledge of military affairs than by passing through all the gradations of the profession.
It was through the same individual that Peter became acquainted with another person, who, in the sequel, exercised scarcely less influence in the empire than Le Fort himself. This was Menzikoff, a youth of the very humblest origin, who sought his fortune in Moscow at the age of fourteen, and became apprentice to a pastry-cook. He used to hawk cakes and pies about the streets, recommending them in a kind of song of his own composing. It was while engaged in this occupation that he attracted the attention of Le Fort, who entered into conversation with him, and, pleased with his ready wit, brought him to the czar. On Peter he must have made an equally favorable impression, for we find him mentioned as a royal page soon afterwards.
About the same time that Peter organized the body-guard under Le Fort’s direction, he commenced building some vessels, with which he purposed sailing down the Don, and attacking Azoph, which was then in the hands of the Turks. A reference to the map of Europe will show the importance of this place, which is in fact the key to the Black Sea; and nothing proves more completely the genius of Peter the Great, than the intuitive knowledge he possessed of the importance of maritime power, and the wants of his vast empire. Hemmed in by enemies――for in those days neighboring states were commonly such――the Black Sea commanded by the Turks, and the Baltic by the Swedes, he felt that his country could never be great till seaports were wrested from them. Former czars had issued edicts forbidding their subjects to travel beyond the empire. Peter saw that the great difficulty was, not to keep people in, but for anybody to get out; and he knew there was no better method of enlightening the ignorant, and of removing prejudices, than to encourage the influx of civilized strangers, and to afford facilities for his own people to travel in other countries. We are the last who would find merit in the exploits of mere military heroes or conquering rulers, but it is impossible to withhold our admiration from the youthful czar at this period of his career. The Ottoman empire was then one of the most powerful states in the world. A very few years before, Vienna had been besieged by 200,000 Turks, and the Emperor Leopold compelled to flee from his capital; and Sweden was a country greatly superior in the scale of civilization, possessing disciplined and experienced troops――soon to have Charles XII, the most warlike monarch in Europe, at their head. But it was not from any love of ‘the game of war’ that Peter contemplated aggressions on his neighbors, but as the necessary means to a great end. He could not humanize his people without seaports; so seaports he was determined to have.
It is said that, in his childhood, Peter I had an absurd dread of water; indeed to such an extent, that crossing a river would throw him into convulsions. A story is told of his having narrowly escaped drowning when about five years old, the fright received on that occasion being the origin of this future antipathy; but, for our own part, we have very little faith in the tradition of the czar’s ‘hydrophobia.’ He was subject all his life to epileptic fits; but as his brothers had been afflicted with something similar, they were most probably hereditary. Perhaps the story of his dread of water was invented, to heighten the wonder of his achievements on that element. At all events, if it ever existed, it must early have been conquered; for in his boyhood he appears to have amused himself by paddling about the river Yausa, which passes through Moscow, in a little Dutch skiff, which had attracted him, from its being so superior to the flat-bottomed boats with which alone he was acquainted. Even when he had never seen the ocean, and was five hundred miles distant from the sea, he comprehended the wants of his vast unwieldy empire, and resolved that it should become a maritime power.
Accordingly, in 1695, he sailed down the Don, and attacked Azoph; but this first campaign was unsuccessful, chiefly in consequence of the desertion of an artillery officer named Jacob, who nailed up the Russian cannon, turned Mohammedan, and, going over to the Turks, defended the town against his former master. The czar, however, was not likely to be discouraged by a single failure. He renewed his attack the following year; and as the death of his brother John just at this time had thrown into his treasury the income which had maintained the dignity of the nominal czar, he had the means of strengthening and supplying his forces in a more efficient manner. The new ship-yard at Woronetz, on the Don, furnished him in the summer of 1696 with a fleet of twenty-three galleys, two galleasses, and four fire-ships, with which he defeated the Turkish fleet off Azoph. All relief by sea being now cut off, he pushed the siege with renewed vigor, and in two months――July 29――the Russians entered Azoph. To secure the possession of this key to the Black Sea, he enlarged and strengthened the forts, constructed a harbor capable of admitting heavy vessels, and gave orders for fifty-five war-ships to be built, at the same time keeping in view the construction of a canal whereby to connect the Don and the Volga.
A year or two before these events Peter had divorced himself from his wife, whom he had married in his boyhood――a wife chosen for him, not a partner of his own choice. Many reasons have been assigned for this step; but the true one appears to be, that she was a woman of mean intellect, a slave of superstition and bigotry, the mere creature of the priests, and that, consequently, she opposed herself to all his plans of reformation; for the priests, knowing that their power would melt away before the torch of knowledge, lost no opportunity of vilifying the czar, and thwarting his schemes if possible. Peter certainly committed an error of judgment in leaving his son Alexis under her care, as the result proved; but to our mind it was a proof of kindness and consideration to the mother, which reveals a more feeling heart than historians generally allow him to have possessed.
A desirable seaport acquired, and an unsuitable wife got rid of, Peter’s next step was to send a number of young Russians to finish their education in Italy, Germany, and Holland. Hitherto Russia had been without an official representative in any of the states of Europe; but the czar fitted out a splendid embassy to the States-General of Holland, of which Le Fort and Menzikoff were the principal plenipotentiaries, Peter himself accompanying them, though simply as an attache to the mission. The ease and security with which he left his vast empire to the government of deputies, prove how firmly established was his power. Passing through Riga, on his way to Holland, he sought permission to visit the fortifications; but was refused by the Swedish governor――an indignity which Peter resolved to punish by and by. Proceeding through Prussia, he was received by the king with great respect, and with all the pomp and circumstance of royalty. Here Peter separated himself from the embassy, and proceeded to Holland, traveling privately, and as fast as possible. He arrived at Amsterdam fifteen days before his ambassadors, and engaged a small apartment in the dockyard belonging to the admiralty. He soon afterwards adopted the habit of a Dutch skipper, and in that dress proceeded to Saardam, where he enrolled himself as a journeyman carpenter, under the name of Peter Michaeloff, in the employment of a ship-builder named Calf. Here he lived in a little shingle hut for seven weeks, made his own bed, and prepared his own food――corresponded with his ministers at home, and labored at the same time in ship-building.
Such was the manner in which Peter the Great proposed to acquire the art of ship-building; as willing to work as a carpenter for this purpose, as he had been for another to do a drummer’s duty in his model regiment. Truly does one of his earliest biographers remark, ‘that many sovereigns have laid down their authority from weariness of the cares and troubles of empire, but he alone quitted his dominions in order to study the art of governing them.’ What a picture of Peter the Great presents itself to the contemplative mind at this period; and what a meeting must that have been which accidentally took place between him and the duke of Marlborough at Saardam! For the English noble was well aware that, in the workman ‘Peter Michaeloff,’ he beheld the undisputed proprietor of a quarter of the globe, the autocrat who had the power of life and death over all its inhabitants; in short, the czar of Muscovy. Peter was at this time, 1697, twenty-five years of age, and is described as a large, powerful man, with bold and regular features, dark-brown hair, that fell in natural curls about his neck, and a dark, keen eye, which glanced from one object to another with singular rapidity. He was dressed on that occasion in a red woolen shirt and duck trousers, and a sailor’s hat, and was seated, with an adze in his hand, upon a rough log of timber which lay upon the ground. He was conversing with great earnestness and much gesticulation with some strangers, his countenance displaying, by its strong and varying expression, the interest he took in their discourse. The soldier-duke――is it not easy to imagine the contrast of costume and character?――approached, and opened a slight conversation by some remarks on the art of ship-building. While they were thus engaged, a stranger in a foreign costume appeared, bearing an enormous letter in his hand; the journeyman started up, and snatching the packet, tore off the seals, and eagerly perused it, while the stately Marlborough walked away unregarded!
Who can tell what this very despatch contained! Most probably life or death, freedom or slavery, fame or fortune, of one or many of his subjects hung upon the word of that ‘foreign journeyman.’ It was while handling the compass and the adze at Saardam that the confirmation was brought him of the double, or rather rival, nomination of Augustus, elector of Saxony and prince of Conti, to the vacant throne of Poland; and Peter, already assuming the right to be a king-maker, promised to assist Augustus with thirty thousand troops. Meanwhile his army was gaining fresh victories near Azoph; but Peter had a nobler ambition than the desire of military glory. He continued to improve himself in different arts, passing frequently from Saardam to Amsterdam to hear lectures on anatomy; and he made himself capable of performing several operations in surgery. He also mastered the Dutch language, and made considerable progress in mathematics, civil engineering, and the science of fortification; besides visiting every literary, charitable, or scientific institution, and the paper-mills, saw-mills, and all manufacturing establishments, which he examined carefully, with the intention of introducing similiar ones into his own empire.
‘What is that?’ was his constant exclamation at beholding anything new; nor would his inquiring mind rest for a moment till he obtained an explanation. We can fancy the astonishment of the quiet, lethargic Hollanders at this energetic prince, who, though choosing to work as a carpenter, took no pains to conceal his rank; flying about the country with an activity of mind and body equally incomprehensible to them, and seeking knowledge with more ardour and avidity than other princes had ever sought even pleasure.
Peter spent about nine months in the Netherlands, during which time a sixty-gun ship was completed from his own draught and model, and at much of the carpentry of which he worked with his own hand. This vessel, said to be an admirable specimen of naval architecture, he sent to Archangel――for as yet the czar had not a seaport on the Baltic. He then crossed over to England, where he was received with great attention by William III, who deputed the Marquis of Caermarthen to attend him, and devote himself to the service of the czar. Peter’s chief object was to examine the dockyards and maritime establishments of England as he had done those of Holland; but though he still preserved his incognito, he no longer worked as a journeyman. Yet, according to an old writer, ‘he would often take up the tools and work with them; and he frequently conversed with the builders, who showed him their draughts, and the method of laying down, by proportion, any ship or vessel.’ At first he lodged in York Buildings, while in London; and the last house next the river, on the east side of Buckingham Street, near the Strand, is said to have been inhabited by him; but afterwards, that he might be near the sea, he occupied a house belonging to the celebrated John Evelyn at Deptford.
Under the date of January 30, 1698, we find in Evelyn’s diary as follows:――‘The czar of Muscovy being come to England, and having a mind to see the building of ships, hired my house, Saye’s Court, and made it his court and palace, new furnished by the king.’ And just about this time Mr. Evelyn’s servant writes to his master thus:――‘There is a house full of people, and right nasty. The czar lies next your library, and dines in the parlour next your study. He dines at ten o’clock, and at six at night; is very seldom at home a whole day; very often in the king’s yard, or by water, dressed in several dresses. The king is expected there this day: the best parlour is pretty clean for him to be entertained in. The king pays for all he has.’ What a glimpse one gets at the past through such gossip as this!
Though the czar did not now carry his enthusiasm so far as to work as a carpenter, yet his fondness for sailing and managing boats was as eager here as in Holland. Sir Anthony Deane and the Marquis of Caermarthen were almost daily with him on the Thames, sometimes in a sailing yacht, and at others rowing in boats――an exercise in which both the czar and the marquis are said to have excelled. The Navy Board received directions from the Admiralty to hire two vessels, to be at the command of the czar whenever he should think proper to sail on the Thames, to improve himself in seamanship. In addition to these, the king made him a present of the Royal Transport, with orders to have such alterations and accommodations made in her as his czarish majesty might desire; and also to change her masts, rigging, sails, etc. in such a way as he might think proper, to improve her sailing qualities. But his great delight was to get into a small-decked boat belonging to the dockyard, and taking only Menzikoff, and three or four others of his suite, to work the vessel with them, he being the helmsman. By this practice he said he should be able to teach them how to command ships when they got home. Having finished their day’s work, they used to resort to a tavern in Great Tower Street, close to Tower Hill, to smoke their pipes, and to drink beer and brandy. The landlord had the czar of Muscovy’s head painted, and put up for his sign, which continued till the year 1808, when some one took a fancy to the old sign, and offered the then occupier of the house to paint him a new one for it. A copy was accordingly made from the original, which maintains its station to the present day, as the sign of the ‘Czar of Muscovy.’
While in England, Peter also directed his attention to engineering; and, what is curious, received a doctorate from the university of Oxford. He took into his service upwards of five hundred persons――officers, engineers, cannoneers, surgeons, etc.; in particular, a body of skillful engineers and artificers, whom he despatched to Russia, for the purpose of carrying out a great project which he had already arranged in his own far-seeing mind. This was to open a communication, by locks and canals, between the rivers Volga and Don and the Caspian Sea. And it may convey an idea of the ignorance and superstition with which Peter had to contend, that this noble scheme raised an outcry among the priests and nobles, who declared it was ‘a piece of impiety to turn the streams one way which Providence had directed another.’ Ferguson, the celebrated engineer and geometrician, entered into his service, and was the first person who brought arithmetic into use in the exchequer of Russia. Previously, they had made use only of the Tartarian method of reckoning, by balls strung upon a wire.
In the latter end of 1698, Peter returned to Holland on his way home; and on taking leave of King William, he presented him with a ruby of the value of £10,000, drawing it from his waistcoat pocket, ‘wrapped up in a bit of brown paper.’ It was truly a royal present, though not given after a very royal fashion; but Peter had a great contempt for forms and ceremonies, and William III was far too sensible a man to stand very greatly upon them. Peter also, in return for the attentions bestowed on him by the Marquis of Caermarthen, conferred on that nobleman the right to license every hogshead of tobacco exported to Russia, and to charge five shillings for each license. This must have brought a large revenue, for an English company had thought it worth while to pay £15,000 for the monopoly of the exportation. While in London, his attention was forcibly attracted to the magnificent building of Greenwich Hospital, which, until he had visited it, and seen the old pensioners, he had some difficulty in believing to be anything but a royal palace. King William having asked him one day how he liked his hospital for decayed seamen, the czar answered, ‘If I were the adviser of your majesty, I should counsel you to remove your court to Greenwich, and convert St. James’ into a hospital.’
From Holland, Peter traveled to Vienna, most probably to have an interview with the emperor of Germany, who was no doubt very glad to obtain an ally against his old enemies, the Turks. He was received with great pomp; but, in the midst of the festivities which marked his arrival, news reached him that an insurrection had broken out in Moscow, though it had already been quelled by the energy and decision of General Gordon, whom he had left in authority. This intelligence, however, induced him to give up a visit to Italy, which he had intended; and traveling with his usual speed, he hastened back to his capital. He soon discovered that the Strelitzes had been instigated to rebellion by the Princess Sophia, who, taking advantage of her brother’s absence, had hoped to resume her authority. Several of the ringleaders were hanged within sight of Sophia’s window, and others condemned to a more cruel death, and broken on the wheel. Certainly, when we consider how sanguinary the laws were at that period, even in the most civilized states of Europe, we cannot consider this retaliation undue severity on the part of Peter; indeed it appears to have been a necessary step to secure his own authority. As for the absurd stories which were current at the time, and which we are sorry to find repeated by many respectable writers, no credit should attach to them. We mean the stories of the wholesale massacres which took place――Peter and his chief officers turning butchers themselves, and reveling in this preäppointed slaughtering with as little compunction as sportsmen when they find themselves in a preserve of game. A closer examination of facts and authorities dispels the whole as an idle report, exaggerated as it traveled from mouth to mouth, and quite out of keeping with the real circumstances of the case. It is true that Peter had already done a great many things ‘with his own hand’ that sovereigns had seldom done before; but then they were things which no one but himself was clever enough to do. His indifference to war (except as the means to his great ends), commented on with evident astonishment by an English churchman, whom he conversed with when he visited Oxford, is a proof that he was not of a sanguinary disposition; and besides this, he wanted men so much both for soldiers and workmen, that he could not spare the two or three thousand subjects who are said to have been beheaded, or otherwise slaughtered, for after-dinner pastime. It is much more likely that he should have set them to work in the hardest and meanest capacity on the canals and bridges he was already forming.
In 1699, Peter experienced a severe loss in the death of his friend and counselor, General Le Fort, on whom he bestowed funeral honors similar to those awarded to former sovereigns. He assisted, himself, in the procession, marching after the captains as a lieutenant, which rank he held in Le Fort’s regiment. It was also about this time that he lost his able general, Gordon, whose soldierly qualities had been so essential to him in the reformation of his army. Menzikoff, who had risen from obscurity by his talents and activity, now became the favorite and counselor of Peter. The Strelitzes――those instruments of insurrection and turbulence――were now supplanted by twenty-seven new regiments of infantry and two of cavalry, who, within three months, were disciplined and brought into marching order. Nothing but merit and length of services was regarded in the appointment of officers. Besides the reconstitution of the military, Peter now devoted himself with incessant activity to the internal regulation of his empire, which assumed, by degrees, the appearance of a new creation.
It was now that the czar turned his attention to change the inconvenient customs of his people. To do this, he began by levying a tax upon long beards and petticoats; patterns of closebodied coats being hung up in public places. But so attached were they to old customs, that his revenue was increased, instead of their dress being altered. His next proceeding savors somewhat of the ludicrous. He stationed tailors and barbers at each of the gates of Moscow, whose duty it was to cut the beard and whiskers of every man who entered, and ‘to cut his petticoats all round about.’ In the process of the latter mutilation, the victim was made to kneel down, when his garments were clipped on a level with the ground. An anecdote is told which has something almost affecting, in the proof it affords of the earnestness with which these poor people clung to their unclean and inconvenient habits. The czar on one occasion met an old man coming from the barber, and addressed him, saying that he looked like a young man, now he had lost his beard; upon which the man put his hand into his bosom, and drew forth the beard which had been cut off, telling the czar he should preserve it, in order to have it put into his coffin, that he might be able to produce it to St. Nicholas in the other world!
About this time the czar altered the commencement of the year from the 1st of September to the 1st of January――a proceeding which gave almost equal offense to his people, who thought he was undertaking to change the course of the sun. He next instituted assemblies for the encouragement of social intercourse between the sexes, that people might have a reasonable opportunity of forming suitable marriages. Hitherto wives had been sought in the Asiatic manner――the bride being given away or sold by her parents, without being previously seen by the intended bridegroom. And while all these social and moral reformations were going on, Peter was building a fleet on the Don, connecting that river with the Volga, and planning to wrest a sea-coast territory from a warlike nation, on which to build a new metropolis――St. Petersburg.
Hitherto the capital of Russia had been Moscow, which, being inland, was ill adapted for commerce. With a view to remedy this defect, Peter fixed on a site for his new capital at the mouth of the river Neva, and adjoining the Gulf of Finland. But the land in this quarter was not his own: it belonged to Sweden. His object was therefore to seize upon one or two provinces, add them to Russia, and then commence building his town. It is distressing to have to relate such a circumstance of a man whom, on other grounds, we are inclined to respect. According to the way in which history is usually written, the commission of such acts is not only not reprobated, but in some cases is commended. We, however, cannot unite in glossing over acts of injustice, even though they be done by kings. Peter was guilty of rapacity, and the only excuse that can be found for him is, that he did nothing more than what all sovereigns of his time considered it no crime to commit. To attain his desired end in this and other respects, Peter, in 1700, entered into a political alliance with Augustus, king of Poland and elector of Saxony, and the king of Denmark. These three potentates combining against the youthful Charles of Sweden――who, by a sort of miracle, proved himself, at eighteen years of age, the greatest general in Europe――the czar determined to take from him the provinces of Ingria and Carelia; Augustus desired to regain Esthonia and Livonia, ceded by Poland to Charles XI; and Denmark wished to regain Holsten and Sleswick. Peter invaded Ingria at the head of 60,000 men; and, desirous to find some pretext for his aggressions, could choose no better one than that his ambassadors had been charged exorbitant prices for provisions while passing through that province on their way to Holland; though he also reminded them that he himself had been insulted by being refused a sight of the citadel of Riga!
At the latter end of September Peter laid siege to Narva, a fortified town on the river Narowa, just at the time that Charles was engaged with the Danes, and putting an end to the war in Denmark. This, however, was accomplished in a few weeks; and then, at the head of only 9000 troops, he came to the relief of Narva. Peter, probably astonished that the place had held out so long, but never doubting of ultimate success, left the army encamped before Narva to meet a body of nearly 30,000 men, whom he had sent for. The reason of this proceeding cannot be easily explained; for certainly the presence of the czar was most required with the main body, already 60,000 strong, at the scene of action. Probably he went forth to meet the reinforcement only from the restlessness of mind and impatience of delay which were part of his character. It was a false step, however. During his absence, on the 19th of November, Charles came up to Narva, and taking advantage of a tremendous snow-storm, which beat directly in the faces of the Russians, fell upon them, and with his 9000 men completely routed or captured an army of nearly seven times the number. The prisoners taken were nearly 40,000; and the inconvenience of the long petticoats was at last discovered, since they hindered a great number from――running away! Never was a more ignominious defeat, though the czar bore it with the greatest philosophy. ‘I know very well,’ he said, ‘that the Swedes will have the advantage of us for a considerable time; but they will teach us at length to beat them.’
On the occasion of this defeat, the priests composed a prayer to St. Nicholas, which was publicly offered up. It besought his assistance against those ‘terrible, insolent, furious, dreadful, invincible destroyers,’ who had fallen upon them ‘like lions and bears deprived of their young――frightening, wounding, and killing them by thousands’――and declaring that such calamities could only have befallen them from ‘witchcraft and sorcery.’ Peter, however, did not wait for the help of St. Nicholas. He entered into negotiations with the kings of Denmark and Poland to assist him with troops, and to keep up the quarrel with Charles XII; at the same time he melted the church and convent bells of Moscow to found cannon, and made every preparation for his intended campaign in the ensuing spring. But amid all his preparations for war, Peter never lost sight of those projects which were to bring forth their fruits in peace. At this period he was founding hospitals and schools, erecting linen and paper factories, and importing sheep from Saxony, gathering together smiths, braziers, and artificers of every description, and having the mines of Siberia explored for ore.
It is not our purpose to detail the battles and sieges which took place in the course of the following year or two, although we must mention one of them more particularly, as it was the occasion of introducing to Peter a person who henceforth took part in his fortunes. Marienburg was a little town on the confines of Ingria and Livonia, which, besieged by Peter’s army, surrendered at discretion. Either through accident or design, the Swedes who defended it set fire to the magazine, which so incensed the Russians, that they destroyed the town, and carried away all the inhabitants. Among the prisoners was a young girl of about sixteen years of age, a Livonian by birth, who had been brought up from charity in the house of a Lutheran minister. There is no reason to suppose she had occupied any higher station than that of servant in his family; but it is said that she had been married to a Swedish soldier, who fell in the siege, the very day before it took place. This widowed orphan was taken to the camp of one of the Russian generals. Precisely how or when Peter first saw her, can never be known; but the best authenticated and most likely story is, that while engaged in handing round dried fruits and liquors at the house, or in the tent of Prince Menzikoff, the Livonian slave, known only by the name of Martha, first attracted the attention of the czar. According to his invariable custom, when pleased by the manners or countenance of any one, he entered into conversation with her, and soon discovered that she possessed a mind of more than ordinary intelligence. To this she joined, as events proved, a cheerful and lively disposition, a kind heart, and an amiable temper. No doubt Peter had penetration enough to see that she was precisely the woman who could share his enthusiasm, sympathise in his plans, and be, in short, the wife he wanted. The meanness, or indeed obscurity of her birth, was no obstacle to him; he had absolute power to raise her to the loftiest condition in his empire; and, accordingly, by the name of Catherine, which she now adopted, he married her at first privately, but a few years afterwards with the state and ceremony of public nuptials. Thus was chosen the partner of his throne, and his successor upon it.
It was soon after these events――1700――that the death of ‘the patriarch,’ or supreme head of the Russian church, afforded the czar an opportunity of beginning some wholesome reforms in that quarter. He had thought it necessary to commence his military career by fulfilling the humblest duties of a soldier, and we have seen that he set about learning the art of ship-building by working with his own hands; but when he boldly annihilated the office of patriarch, and placed himself, without any preparatory steps, at the head of the church, he probably thought there was nothing the priests could teach him which he desired to learn. Certainly a set of men who believed that sanctity dwelt in a beard, and who were in the habit of placing letters of introduction to their patron saint in the hands of deceased persons when laid in their coffins, were not likely to meet with much respect from a great reformer like Peter I: and the few whose glimmer of intelligence raised them above the gross superstition and corruption of the mass, must have experienced all the temptations of self-interest to oppose themselves to the projects of the czar; for they must have known that the nation once enlightened, their power would be gone.
Let us however, not be misunderstood in the use we may make of the words ‘nation’ and ‘people.’ As a nation――as a people――the Russians are not to this day sufficiently enlightened to choose their own legislators and enjoy a constitutional form of government; and, sunk in the ignorance and barbarism from which Peter partially raised them, a perfect despot, such as he was, was the only ruler that could have had power enough to help them.
The printing-press, which Peter had introduced, vomited forth libels of various sorts upon him; and he was denounced as Antichrist by the priests. A few, however, defended him from this charge, but only because ‘the number six hundred and sixty-six was not to be found in his name, and he had not the sign of the beast.’
It was about this time that the czar took an excellent opportunity of showing that new customs are generally better than old ones. On the occasion of the marriage of one of his sisters, he invited the principal Boyards and ladies of Moscow to celebrate it, requiring them to appear dressed after the ancient fashion. The dinner was served up in the manner of the sixteenth century. By an ancient superstition, it was forbidden to kindle a fire on a wedding day; accordingly, though it was winter, no fire was permitted. Formerly, the Russians never drank wine, so none was provided; and when the guests murmured at any of the unpleasant arrangements, Peter replied, ‘These were the customs of your ancestors, and you say old customs are the best.’ A practical lesson of more force than wordy arguments, and one that might afford a useful hint in much more recent times.
Having obtained the provinces he required, Peter set about building St. Petersburg; in the execution of which work he overcame difficulties which would have discouraged any other man. The spot he fixed upon was a miserable morass, half under water, without wood, or clay, or stones, or building materials of any kind; with a barren soil, and a climate of almost polar severity. The resolution to build this city has always been spoken of as an act of extreme rashness; for, to its other disadvantages, it was liable to be flooded by the waters of the gulf on the prevalence of a south-west wind, more particularly if the wind should blow at a time when the ice of the Neva was breaking up in the summer thaws.
Whether Peter was aware of all these disadvantages, is not clearly ascertained. It is only certain that, notwithstanding every drawback, he continued the building of St. Petersburg, which, under his marvelous energy, soon became a splendid city, adapted for commerce with all the world. What he began, his successors have finished; and St. Petersburg now vies in grandeur with any city in Europe. Although never seriously injured by flooding, as was anticipated, it has on divers occasions been exposed to great alarm, and the safety of the inhabitants has been endangered. Indeed inundations are so frequent in many of the low parts, that water is as much dreaded in St. Petersburg as fire in many other cities; accordingly, precautions have been taken to guard as much as possible against any such calamity. When an inundation is anticipated, a cannon is fired from the Admirality, and signal-flags hoisted on the steeples, and the alarm-gun is repeated every hour until the danger appears at an end.
When the river rises so high as to lay the lowest streets under water, the alarm-gun is fired every quarter of an hour; and in proportion as the peril increases, the cannons are more frequently fired, until minute-guns are understood to be a cry of despair, summoning boats to the assistance of the drowning people.
The highest inundation of which there is any record occurred on the 17th of November 1824; and in every street there is a painted mark, showing the height to which the waters rose. The Russians speak with a shudder of the sufferings which took place on that occasion. The rise of the river was at first gradual and stealthy; but, impelled by a furious west wind, it soon came streaming through the streets, lifting some of the carts and equipages from the ground, but drowning many horses, which were unable to extricate themselves from the heavier vehicles to which they were attached. A description is given of the trees in the public squares being as much crowded with human beings as they had ever been seen with sparrows; and a story is told of a gardener who, having been engaged in clipping some trees on an acclivity, had not observed the rise of the water until it was too late to seek any other refuge than the roof of a garden pavilion. But here he was joined by such a host of rats and mice, that he was in no small danger of being devoured by them. Fortunately, however, a dog and a cat sought refuge in the same spot, and, with such powerful allies, he remained in safety all night. The river subsided to its accustomed channel the next day; but, dreadful as the loss of life and property had been, the worst effects had still to follow. Many houses fell in from the injury they had received, and it was long before the damp could be expelled from those which remained. Almost universal sickness was the consequence, and a fearful mortality from the epidemics which raged for weeks afterwards.
To return, however, to Peter. His chief antagonist was Charles XII of Sweden, one of the greatest soldiers of his age. Charles had evidently nothing more dignified in his nature than might belong to a gladiator or prize-fighter. He lived as if men came into the world to fight, and for nothing else. He had no idea of such a condition as peace. He laughed at all social and domestic ties, and made a jest of the severest trials of human affections. He had not a heart capable of love or friendship himself, and despised all those who had. He was simply destructive; no fertilizing or humanizing influence followed his career; and when, at a later period, his absence on a disastrous expedition had been protracted for years, and his neglected and impoverished subjects besought him to return home, his answer was, that he would send ‘one of his boots to govern them’――a sorry jest, but one that sufficiently showed his nature.
‘His was a name at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.’
Peter, on the other hand, never encouraged war, except for the furtherance of some great object. While fighting battles, he was at the same time planning cities, founding hospitals and scholastic institutions, forming canals, building bridges, and traveling about to superintend everything himself, under all circumstances, and in all seasons; and by such means undermining his constitution, and sowing the seeds of disease, which carried him off in the prime of life. In his early years his habits were intemperate, it is true; but though he is reported to have said, ‘I can reform my people, but I cannot reform myself,’ he did reform those pernicious habits which had been systematically inculcated by the machinations of the infamous Sophia, and in the latter part of his life lived abstemiously. Peter was a creator, constructor, and reformer among his people, and well deserved the title of Great.
While Charles was busy elsewhere, Peter took the opportunity of again attacking Narva. He laid siege to it by sea and by land, although a large body of his troops were still in Poland, others defending the works at St. Petersburg, and another detachment before Derpt. But after several assaults on one side, and a most determined resistance on the other, Narva was at length taken, the Czar being among the first to enter the city sword in hand. His behavior on this occasion must have gained him the respect and even the affection of his new subjects. The besiegers had forced their way into the town, where they pillaged and exercised all the cruelties so common with an infuriate soldiery. Peter ran from street to street, rescued several women from the brutal soldiers, and endeavored by every means to put an end to violence and slaughter, killing with his own hand two of the ruffians who had refused to obey his orders. He entered the town-hall, whither the citizens had run in crowds for shelter, and, laying his reeking sword upon the table, he exclaimed, ‘This sword is not stained with the blood of your fellow-citizens, but with that of my own soldiers, which I have spilt to save your lives!’
As soon as Peter had acquired the provinces he wished, he became anxious for peace; but violence always suggests reprisals; and Charles was by no means inclined to lose a portion of his territory without further fighting. He in fact determined on undertaking an inroad into Russia, and dictating a treaty of peace at Moscow. Peter, who knew the nature of the Russian territory and population, was not alarmed at this decision of his rival. His clear intellect perceived the difficulties which the rigorous climate and vast extent of country to be traversed must present to an invading army, and he took measures quietly to increase these impediments. The army of Charles ravaged the country wherever they went, and put to death, without remorse, hundreds of the peasantry, whom they suspected of concealing from them grain or other provisions. It may convey some idea of the demoralizing influence of war, and the strange distorted notions which prevailed, to mention that the chaplain of the king of Sweden praises these executions as acts of justice on the part of his master!
The Czar, with his army, retreated slowly before the advancing enemy――thus drawing them on, step by step, into the heart of a barren country, until the northern monarchs and their followers were lost to the world among the wildernesses of ancient Scythia. But the circumstances of the Czar were very different from those of the invader. He was at home, knew even the wilderness, and was in safe and convenient communication with his own cities and magazines. His hundred thousand men were well provided, and, before the snows of winter set in, were in comfortable quarters. About this time Mazeppa, the hetman of the Cossacks, deserts from Peter to Charles, and so far changes the purpose of the latter, that instead of proceeding direct to Moscow, he resolves first to reduce the Ukraine, which is a fertile territory lying between ancient Poland and Moldavia, and was then, as now, belonging to Russia. Some of the Swedish officers implored their king to halt, and go into the best quarters they could find for the winter. But no; he would go on; and after the loss of thousands of his men from cold, hunger, disease, and misery of all sorts, he laid siege to Pultowa, a town of the Ukraine, in the month of May, 1709, with the remnant of 80,000 men, now numbering less than 20,000!
On the 15th of June the Czar came up to assist his besieged town; by a feint, which deceived the Swedes, he succeeded in throwing 2000 men into the place; and a few days afterwards the famous battle of Pultowa took place, at which the Swedish army was completely routed and destroyed. Both sovereigns appeared in the front of the battle, although Charles, having received a wound a few days before, which had broken the bones of his foot, was carried about in a litter, to give directions; and the litter being shattered by a cannon-ball, he was then supported on the pikes of his soldiers, several of whom fell in this dangerous service. However, when all was over, desperation lent him strength; for he was able to make his escape on horseback. In its results, this battle was one of the most important ever fought in Europe. Had the Czar fallen, there can be no question his people would have sunk back into the barbarism from which he was striving to draw them, and Denmark, Poland, and Russia, must have received laws from the brutal Swede. By the mercy of Providence these horrors were averted; and henceforth Charles became an object of pity rather than dread.
After the battle, Peter invited the Swedish officers taken prisoners to dinner, and drank to their health as ‘his masters in the art of war.’ His prophetic words at Narva were now verified: the Swedes had indeed taught the Russians to beat them. However, the greater part of these ‘masters’――officers, subalterns, and privates――were sent to Siberia; for Charles had refused an exchange of prisoners previous to the battle, and now Peter would not grant it. Meanwhile Charles escaped to Bender, and took refuge among the Turks. By his emissaries he represented to the sultan the growing power of Russia, revived in him the desire to recover Azoph, and to expel the Russians from the Black Sea; and finally succeeded in bringing about a declaration of war from Turkey against the Czar. The Turks commenced hostilities by imprisoning the Muscovite ambassador, upon which Peter levied an army, and marched to the frontier of Turkey at the head of 40,000 men. Before setting out, however, he made a public proclamation of his previous marriage with Catherine, who insisted upon accompanying him in this campaign.
It is a singular circumstance that, in this expedition, Peter fell into an error almost identical with that which had led to the overthrow of his rival. Charles had trusted to the representations of the double traitor Mazeppa, who promised to supply him with food and men; and Peter allowed himself to be led into a hostile and barren country, relying on the faithless hospodar of Moldavia, who had promised him similar assistance. On reviewing the coincidence, one cannot help fancying that perhaps, after all, there might be less of stratagem on the part of the czar than chance movements, which led the Swede on to his ruin, or surely he would not have been blind to the consequences of conduct so similar. To be brief: when Peter had crossed the river Pruth, he found himself near Jassy, hemmed in between an army of Turks and another of Tartars, with a rapid river rolling between him and his dominions, with scarcely any provisions, and without perceiving the means of procuring them; and in this manner were the 40,000 Russians held at bay by enemies whose numbers were said to amount to 200,000. Still they fought desperately; a sort of protracted battle going on for three days, during which time 18,000 men were lost. The situation of the czar was dreadful. One can imagine the agony of mind he must have endured at the thought of perhaps himself being paraded as a captive at Constantinople: yet retreat was impossible; and escape from death or capture seemed equally hopeless.
In this hour of torture and distress the czar shut himself up in his tent, either to take counsel of himself, or to hide his deep mortification. He gave strict orders that no one should disturb him; but the wife who had shared his perils, and knew his heart, ventured to transgress these commands, and made her way to his side. She found him in terrible convulsions――an attack of the fits to which he was subject having been brought on by the agony of his mind. Catherine, who possessed an extraordinary power of calming him on these occasions, applied the usual remedies; and, assuming a cheerful manner, described the idea which had suggested itself to her mind as a means of escaping the threatened ruin.
Certainly this idea was so simple and natural a thing, under the circumstances, that the only marvel is, that it had not occurred to Peter himself and his entire staff. She proposed that a negotiation should be attempted; and, to comply with the custom of approaching the grand vizier with presents, she stripped herself of her jewels, and ransacked the camp for every article of value that might make a suitable offering. It is not likely that, on this military tour, she had encumbered herself with any costly ornaments, and two black foxes’ skins are the only articles we find specially mentioned.
She it was who chose the officer she considered most intelligent and trustworthy for the important mission to the vizier, and she it was who gave him his instructions. Some hours having elapsed after his departure, it was feared that he had been killed, or was detained a prisoner; and a council of war was held, at which we find Catherine was present. At this council it was resolved that, if the Turks refused to enter into a treaty of peace, rather than lay down their arms and throw themselves on their mercy, the Russians would risk their lives by attempting to cut their way through the enemy. During this interval, Peter, despairing of any favorable results from the mission, and reduced to despondency, wrote to the senate at Moscow――‘If I fall into the hands of the enemy, consider me no longer as your sovereign, and obey no commands which shall proceed from the place of my confinement, though it should be signed by my own hand. If I perish, choose the worthiest among you to succeed me.’
The return of the messenger, however, prevented these desperate measures, for he brought the intelligence that an honorable treaty had been agreed to by the vizier. The partisans of Charles XII have always upbraided what they call the cowardice of the Turkish governor on this occasion; but it seems to us that he behaved in a dignified and enlightened manner, and, in consenting to put an end to the war, consulted the interests of his country, a hundred times more than if he had sacrificed fresh troops in opposing the czar, and driving the Russian army to desperation. Hostilities were suspended immediately; and soon afterwards articles were signed, by which Azoph was surrendered to the Turks, the czar excluded from the Black Sea, the Russian army withdrawn beyond the Danube, and the promise given of a free passage to Charles XII through Russia to his own dominions. Much as this seems for Peter to have sacrificed, that Catherine’s services were considered extraordinary is proved beyond question; and several years afterwards, on the occasion of her being crowned empress, Peter again publicly acknowledged them, referring to that ‘desperate occasion’ in these words――‘She signalized herself in a particular manner by a courage and presence of mind superior to her sex, which is well known to all our army, and to the whole Russian empire.’
The fury of Charles on hearing of this treaty knew no bounds. He sought the Turkish camp, and insulted the vizier to his face, who retorted only by some bitter sarcasms on his own prostrate condition. He refused to take advantage of his right to return home; and, still nourishing the insane hope of being able to attack Moscow, he lingered at Bender till 1714, when the Turks, heartily tired of their troublesome guest, sent an army to dislodge him, and he made his way to Sweden in the disguise of a courier.
Of Charles XII of Sweden we need only further say that he fell from a chance ball, which entered his temple, and killed him on the spot, on the 11th of December 1718, while conducting the siege of Frederickshall, a small town in Norway; just in time, according to some historians, to prevent a union with his old opponent the czar to disturb the government of Great Britain. If the mere existence of such a scourge as Charles XII were not in itself too grave a subject for mirth, one might be amused at the acknowledgments of his panegyrist Voltaire, who, in summing up his character, alludes to his great qualities, of which he says――‘One alone would have been enough to immortalize any other prince;’ and yet admits that they caused the misery of his country. And that his ‘firmness, become obstinacy, led to the sufferings of his army in the Ukraine, and its detention in Turkey; that his liberality degenerated into profusion, and ruined Sweden; that his justice sometimes’――we should say very often――‘approached to cruelty; and that the maintenance of his authority verged upon tyranny.’ Moreover, that he ‘gained empires to give them away.’ Yes; for the mere pleasure, to him, of fighting and slaughtering! What a pity he was not born a butcher instead of a king! If an admirer acknowledged thus much, what was the truth likely to have been?
Meanwhile Peter had been going on with his mighty reforms, notwithstanding the opposition of the ignorant and superstitious priesthood, who worked on the people by every means in their power. They taught them that all these alterations were in direct opposition to the will of Heaven; and among other tricks, persuaded them that the pictures of the saints wept at their transgressions. This deception was contrived by making a cavity behind the head of the picture, and filling it with water; then, when the occasion arrived that it was proper for the tears to flow, a little fish was put into the water, which, splashing about, forced out the water at the eyes of the painting.
In 1715-16, Peter indulged himself by making a second tour in Europe, taking Catherine with him. He visited Saardam, where, eighteen years before, he had worked as a ship-builder; and where he was now received with every demonstration of honor and regard. It is related that he showed the czarina, with much interest, the little cabin in which he had worked and lived. There were some political reasons which detained Peter for nearly three months in Holland. He was nearer the centre of intelligence than at home concerning the purposes of other powers, some of whom were plotting against him. However, after conducting a correspondence, and drawing up a treaty with France, he returned to St. Petersburg, traveling by way of Berlin.
We come now to a dark and mysterious passage in the life of Peter the Great. Alexis, Peter’s son by his divorced wife, appears to have possessed naturally but an inferior intellect, joined to that species of low cunning which often belongs to it, without any moral qualities to counterbalance such defects; and unfortunately his mistaken education had confirmed him in his vices and follies. We have already mentioned that, on his marriage being dissolved, Peter allowed his son to remain with his mother. The consequence was, that from an early age he was placed under the control of the priests, who not only instilled into his mind their own superstitious notions, but taught him that the changes in the government and manners of the people effected by the czar were acts offensive to God. It is impossible to help sympathizing with Peter in the disappointment he must have felt at finding his only son a stupid, and yet mischievous and profligate creature; for the only son which Catherine brought him died a mere infant. Remembering that the Russian succession was vested in the will of the autocrat, who was supposed to have a perfect right to bequeath the sovereignty to whomsoever he pleased, every candid reader will acknowledge that Peter was quite justified in disinheriting his unworthy son, whose first act, on gaining the reigns of government, would have been to undo, to the best of his ability, the great works of his predecessor. But it is impossible to justify the extreme severity of the czar, although we can comprehend the excuses which might be offered for it. Not that historians do offer them, for they seem, almost without exception, to dwell on the darkest side of the question, almost without remembering the provocatives to his wrath. The simple truth is a deep enough tragedy.
When Alexis was about twenty years of age, which appears to have been as soon as Peter discovered the mischief that was done, he tried to repair it, by placing a different order of persons about him, and sending him to travel. When he came back, he married him to an amiable and intelligent princess of the house of Brunswick, who died in less than four years, literally of a broken heart, from the neglect, cruelty, and profligacy of her brutal husband. After her death, Peter wrote a letter to his son, which concluded with these words:――‘I will still wait a little time to see if you will correct yourself; if not, know that I will cut you off from the succession as we lop off a useless member. Don’t imagine that I mean only to frighten you; don’t rely upon your being my only son; for if I spare not my own life for my country and the good of my people, how shall I spare you? I would rather leave my kingdom to a foreigner who deserves it, than to my own son who makes himself unworthy of it.’ And in a subsequent letter, Peter said――‘Take your choice; either make yourself worthy of the throne, or embrace a monastic state.’
But Alexis seemed not at all inclined to do either; although, during fits of pretended penitence, he was willing to do anything. There is no doubt, however, that the terror of the Czar was, that even if his son entered a monastery, he might still at his death be placed at the head of that party who were opposed to reform, and so recover the throne. It seems to us that this dread of future ruin to the country is the true explanation of Peter’s severity; for, taking into account the barbarism of the times, and the sanguinary laws all over Europe, we can find no evidence of a cruel disposition in the history of Peter the Great.
Before the Czar set out for Germany and France, he visited his son, who was then on a bed of sickness. On this occasion Alexis solemnly promised that, if he recovered, he would embrace a monastic life; but his father was no sooner out of Russia, than the prince became suddenly well, and entered upon his former life of riot and dissipation. Some intelligence of what was occurring at home reached the Czar, and he wrote a peremptory letter to his son, desiring him either to enter a monastery without delay, or join him at Copenhagen. Upon this Alexis declared his intention of going to Copenhagen, and drew money from Menzikoff for his traveling expenses. But, apparently frightened at the thought of meeting his father――and really it is easy to fancy the incensed czar an object of great terror to the culprit――he proceeded to Vienna, there to concoct some treasonable schemes with the emperor of Germany, who, however, alarmed at the probable consequences, got rid of him; and from Vienna he turned his steps to Naples. His plan seems to have been to get out of his father’s way as far as possible, and wait the chances of life and death that might place him in some new position. But Peter I, either as a sovereign or a father, was not a personage to be treated in this manner. Accordingly, we find him despatching two messengers to Naples, to bring Alexis back to Moscow by fair means or foul. There is evidence that he accompanied them, on the solemn assurance of his father’s forgiveness; and this deception certainly gives the darkest hue to the trial and condemnation which followed.
As soon as Alexis arrived at Moscow, which was in February, 1718, a council was called, at which he was publicly disinherited; and after a long private conference with the czar, the particulars of which never transpired, Alexis was arraigned as a criminal, and tried for conspiring against his father’s life and throne by a body of ‘ministers and senators, estates military and civil.’ Peter was so accustomed to make his own will the law, that in this array of judges there is clear evidence that he wished in some measure to throw the responsibility from his own shoulders, or rather to seem to do so; for no doubt the judges only strove to decide in the manner which should best please their master. After all, the condemnation chiefly rested upon the confession of Alexis himself, and the acknowledgments of his mistress, his companions, and his confessor; and the words of these were wrung from them on the rack. Certainly Alexis made himself out to be much more guilty than any other evidence proved; and yet the czar’s only excuse for revoking his pardon was, that it had been promised ‘on condition that he confessed everything.’
There can be no doubt that this weak and vicious young man had been quite ready to lend himself to any plot; or, according to his own words, ‘If the rebels had asked me to join them in your lifetime, I should most likely have done so――if they had been strong enough.’ And in answer to another question, he said that he ‘had accused himself in confession of wishing the death of his father;’ but that the priest had replied that God would pardon it, as they all wished it as much.
At last he is found guilty. A council of clergy, who are among those referred to for a sentence, quote from the Bible, and especially Absalom’s case, and recommend mercy. But further transgressions are said to have come to light, and the ministers, senators, and generals unanimously condemned him to death, without stating the manner or time of the same, and of course well knowing that the breath of the czar could revoke their edict.
Whether Peter intended to save his son, or really to permit his execution, is among those secrets which history can never pierce. The sentence alone literally terrified Alexis to death! On hearing it read, he fell into a fit, from the effects of which he never recovered, although he regained his senses sufficiently to implore the presence of his father. An interview was granted, at which it is said both father and son shed tears; and finally, after receiving the pardon of the czar, and the consolations of religion, the miserable Alexis breathed his last in prison on the 7th of July.
The most absurd stories were current for a long time, and repeated from mouth to mouth, and copied by one biographer after another. They are still to be found in many otherwise grave authorities. The very number and variety of these tales falsify them all. The czar was accused of poisoning his son (sending openly one messenger after another for the poison); other accounts say that he knouted him to death with his own hands; others, that he cut off his head himself, and had it privately stitched on again. The best argument against such fables is, that if Peter really wished his son’s death, he had only to let the so-called ‘course of justice’ have its way. Besides, the circumstance of his receiving extreme unction, when on the point of death, is a fact authenticated and established.
As may be imagined, Catherine did not escape her share of these accusations; but all the evidence which remains tends to prove that, so far from meriting them, she endeavored to incline her husband to the side of mercy.
We are drawing near the close of the active and eventful life of Peter the Great. We need not dwell upon his Persian campaign, in which, after having found a pretext for a quarrel, because he wanted one, he acquired those sunny provinces to the south of the Caspian, which compensated for the loss of Azoph. ‘It is not land I want, but water,’ was his frequent exclamation, when studying the requirements of his vast empire. The ruler who had first evinced his love of maritime affairs by paddling a skiff upon the Yausa, and who had inherited only a wild and barbarous inland country, was now the master of a respectable navy, the lord of the sunny Caspian and of the icy Baltic.
After his return from Persia in 1722, we find him, as usual after any lengthened absence, instituting examinations for mal-administration. The vice-chancellor Schaffiroff, one of his favorites, was condemned to death; but on the scaffold his punishment was commuted to banishment. Menzikoff was sentenced to pay 200,000 rubles into the exchequer, and was deprived of a great part of his income, and flogged by the emperor’s own hand. For the infliction of this punishment Peter used his dubina――a cane of thick Spanish reed. Several others were disgraced, flogged, or heavily fined――thus at once showing the czar’s impartiality, and proving how well he knew the impossibility of reforming the masses while corruption existed in high places.
In July 1724, Peter again conducted a fleet against Sweden, to enforce his claims on Sweden and Denmark in behalf of the duke of Holstein. Having effected this purpose, he returned to Cronstadt, where he celebrated, by a splendid parade, the creation of his navy, which now consisted of forty-one ships of war, with 2106 cannon, and 14,960 seamen. It was on this occasion that he caused the little skiff we have mentioned to be brought from Moscow, and to be consecrated by the name of the Little Grandsire――the father of the Russian navy. This little shallop is still preserved at St. Petersburg with almost religious veneration.
The last years of this great monarch’s life were employed in providing against the inundations to which his new capital was exposed in the autumn, in continuing the Ladoga canal, and in the erection of an academy of sciences. He turned his attention next to the examination and punishment of state criminals; to the promotion of the labors of the legislative body; and the establishment of the order of ‘Alexander Newsky;’ the improvement of the condition of the monks; the banishment of the Capuchins from Russia; and a new commercial treaty with Sweden. He also betrothed his favorite daughter Anna to the duke of Holstein in 1724, having already placed the crown, with great pomp, upon the head of his wife Catherine on the 18th of the preceding May, in token of his love and gratitude. He likewise provided that an education should be given to the surviving son of the unhappy Alexis, such as would become a future emperor of Russia――his only son by Catherine having died, as before mentioned, when a child, in 1717.
Peter had been for a considerable time in a weak state of health; but he owed the acceleration of his death to an act of humanity. Late in the autumn of 1724, going to visit the forge and manufactory of arms at Systerbeck he saw a boat filled with soldiers and sailors stranded, and sent a shallop to assist, but which failed in the attempt. Determined to gain his end, he set out for the spot himself; and as his vessel could not quite reach the spot, he leaped into the water, and waded to the boat, which he aided in getting off. A severe cold followed this dangerous but humane act, and this, in addition to the painful disorder from which he had long been suffering, brought on the most fatal symptoms. These came on so suddenly at last, and his sufferings were so great, that he was unable to make his last wishes perfectly intelligible. There is, however, little or no doubt that he intended to appoint his wife his successor. His words, so far as they could be understood, expressed this; and on the very day of his death she succeeded him without opposition. Catherine watched by his bedside, without quitting him, for the last three nights of his life; and he breathed his last in her arms January 28, 1725, being only in his fifty-fourth year.
The reader of this brief biography may sum up the character of Peter the Great more satisfactorily than we can do it for him; for different minds will estimate differently his services to his country. That he was a man of powerful and original genius, who did everything himself, and was never the instrument of others, must be conceded on all hands. His ardor was joined with prudence and resolution. His violent passions and sensual excesses were the fruits of the barbarism of his nation, his imperfect education, and uncontrolled power. His services to a people so ignorant and barbarous were of the greatest possible value; indeed all of good that Russia now enjoys may, without much exaggeration, be ascribed to him. But, for him, or such as him, they might have remained till now as rude and powerless as when he found them. Among the Russians his name is venerated as it deserves to be. St. Petersburg, the city of his love and of his creation――‘the western portal of the empire’――is now a magnificent metropolis, with palaces, arsenals, quays, bridges, academies, and temples, rising one beyond another; albeit that the severity of its climate must forever be a drawback to its many advantages.
COUNT RUMFORD.
Benjamin Thompson, better known by the name of Count Rumford, which he afterwards acquired, was born at Woburn in Massachusetts on the 26th of March 1753. His ancestors appear to have been among the earliest of the colonists of Massachusetts, and in all probability came originally from England. They seem to have held a respectable rank among their neighbors, and to have been for one or two generations moderately wealthy.
Ebenezer Thompson, the grandfather of Count Rumford, held a captain’s commission in the militia of the province, and was therefore a man of some repute in the place where he resided. Count Rumford’s father, whose name was also Benjamin, dying while his son was a mere infant, the mother and child continued in the grandfather’s house, which had been their home even while the husband was alive. In October 1755, however, the old man died, leaving a small provision for his grandson, barely sufficient, it would appear, to maintain him till he should arrive at an age to be able to do something for himself. In the following year Mrs. Thompson, whose maiden name was Ruth Limonds, married a second husband, Josiah Pierce, also a resident in Woburn; and the boy accompanied his mother to the house of his stepfather, who stipulated, however, that he should receive the weekly sum of two shillings and fivepence for the child’s maintenance till he attained his eighth year. His grandfather’s little legacy seems to have furnished the means of meeting this demand.
As soon as young Thompson was able to learn his letters, he was sent to the school of his native town, taught by a Mr. John Fowle, who is said to have been ‘a gentleman of liberal education, and an excellent teacher;’ and here in company with all the children of the place, he was taught reading, writing, arithmetic, and a little Latin, having the reputation, it is said, of being a quick boy. At the age of eleven he left the school of Woburn, and joined one taught by a Mr. Hill at Medford, under whose care he made greater advances in mathematics than he had attempted under Mr. Fowle. The only circumstances from which we can form an idea of the progress he made, is the statement that his knowledge of mathematics and astronomy was sufficient to enable him to calculate eclipses.
At thirteen years of age Thompson was bound apprentice to Mr. John Appleby, a respectable merchant in Salem, the second town in point of size in Massachusetts, although at that time it must have been little more than a village. His occupations with Mr. Appleby were principally those of a clerk in the counting-house; and he appears to have had sufficient leisure, while attending to his duties, to extend his reading and his acquaintance with scientific subjects. At this time also he began to exibit a taste for designing and engraving, as well as for mechanical invention. Among other contrivances upon which he exercised his ingenuity, was one for solving the famous problem of the Perpetual Motion; a chimera upon which young men of a turn of mind similar to his often try their untaught powers. One evening, we are informed, the young speculator was so sure that he had at length found out the Perpetual Motion, that he set out with the secret in his head to Woburn, intending to communicate it to a friend and old schoolfellow, Loammi Baldwin, in whose knowledge in such matters he placed great confidence. Loammi spent the night discussing the project with him, and so sensibly, that we are told young Thompson became convinced of the mechanical impossibility of his or any other Perpetual Motion, and returned to his counting-house in Salem next morning, resolved to attempt something less magnificent and more practicable.
About this time the differences between the mother country and the American colonies were beginning to assume a serious aspect. The imposition of the famous stamp tax in 1765 had excited great indignation among the colonists, and its repeal in the following year was celebrated with proportionate rejoicings. At Salem, where the commercial interest predominated, it was determined that there should be a great display of fireworks on the occasion; and as the town did not possess a professional pyrotechnist, Mr. Appleby’s clerk contrived to get his services in that capacity accepted. Unluckily, while preparing some detonating mixture, he handled the pestle so as to cause an explosion, by which he was so severely burnt that his life was despaired of. At length he was able to remove from his mother’s house at Woburn, to which he had been carried after the accident, and resume his employment at Salem. The renewed attempts of the mother country, however, to impose taxes on the colonies, followed as they were by the resolution of the merchants in the colonies not to import any of the products of the mother country, produced such a stagnation of trade in Salem, as at other towns, that Mr. Appleby, having no occasion for the further services of a clerk, was glad to give young Thompson up his indentures, and allow him to return to Woburn.
This happened apparently in 1767 or 1768; and for a year or two afterwards, Thompson’s course of life seems to have been wavering and undecided. In the winter of 1769 he taught a school at Wilmington; and some time in the same year he seems to have thoughts of pursuing the medical profession, for which purpose he placed himself under Dr. Hay, a physician in Woburn, and entered zealously upon the study of anatomy and physiology. While with Dr. Hay, he is said to have exhibited greater fondness for the mechanical than for other parts of the profession, and to have amused himself by making surgical instruments. How long Thompson pursued his medical studies is uncertain; in 1770, however, we find him resuming his mercantile avocations, in the capacity of a clerk in a dry-goods store at Boston, kept by a Mr. Capen. He was in Boston during the famous riots which took place on the attempt to land a cargo of tea from a British vessel contrary to the resolution of the colonists against admitting British goods. Mr. Capen’s business seems to have declined in the critical circumstances of the colony, as Mr. Appleby’s had formerly done; and Thompson was again obliged to return to Woburn. During the summer of 1770, he attended, in company with his friend Baldwin, a course of lectures on experimental philosophy delivered in Harvard College; and at no time of his life does he seem to have been so busily intent upon the acquisition of knowledge. Besides attending the lectures of the professor, he instituted experiments of his own of various kinds, some of which were the germs of valuable conclusions which he published in after-life. In particular, we may mention a course of experiments which he began for ascertaining and measuring the projectile force of gunpowder.
Thompson, though still only in his seventeenth year, had acquired that degree and kind of reputation which it is usual for youths of his stamp to obtain among intelligent acquaintances; and late in 1770, he was invited by Colonel Timothy Walker, one of the most important residents in the thriving village of Rumford, now Concord, in New Hampshire, to take charge of an academy in that place. Accepting the invitation, Thompson, says his American biographer, Dr. Renwick, ‘found himself caressed and welcomed by a society not wanting in refinement or pretensions to fashion. His grace and personal advantages, which afterwards gained him access to the proudest circles of Europe, were already developed. His stature of nearly six feet, his erect figure, his finely-formed limbs, his bright blue eyes, his features chiseled in the Roman mould, and his dark auburn hair, rendered him a model of manly beauty. He acquired an address in the highest degree prepossessing; and at the counter of the Boston retailer, had learnt, from its fashionable customers, the polish of manner and dialect which obliterates all peculiarities that are provincial, and many of those that are national. He possessed solid acquirements far beyond the standard of the day, and had attained already the last and highest requisite for society――that of conversing with ease, and in a pure language, upon all the subjects with a knowledge of which his mind was stored. In addition, he possessed the most fascinating of all accomplishments, for he had a fine voice; and although far from a proficient in music as a science, sang with taste, and performed on several instruments.’ With such advantages the young schoolmaster appears to have made an impression on not a few female hearts in the country village where he shone; on none, however, so decidedly as on that of Mrs. Rolfe, a colonel’s widow, possessed of what was then considered a large fortune, and although considerably older than himself, still young and handsome enough, according to his biographer, ‘to render it probable that a feeling more creditable than one arising from interested motives led him to seek her hand.’ However this may be, the affair was soon brought to a happy conclusion. On giving out his vacation for the year 1772, the young schoolmaster stepped into the widow’s carriage and then drove together to Boston, where he fitted himself with a dress in the extreme of fashion of the day, scarlet being then a favorite color. Clad anew from top to toe, he reëntered the equipage, which whirled away towards Woburn. The astonishment of the villagers at seeing their young townsman in such a guise, and in such company, was past description. ‘Why, Ben, my child,’ said his mother, gazing at his splendid outfit as he dismounted at the door, ‘how could you spend your whole winter’s earnings in this way?’ In the presence of his fair companion the youth could hardly explain, and he was obliged to employ a friend to break the subject of his intended marriage to his mother. No objections were offered on her part, although she took twenty-four hours to deliberate on the matter; and the happy pair drove back to Rumford, where the wedding was forthwith celebrated, the bridegroom being then in his twentieth year.
After his marriage, Thompson took his place as one of the wealthiest inhabitants of the district in which he resided, and mixed in the best society which the colony afforded. It was not long before he made the acquaintance of his Excellency John Wentworth, the governor of the colony, who, anxious, no doubt, in the critical circumstances in which the American dependencies of Great Britain were then placed, to attach to the party which sided with the mother country as many influential colonists as he was able, lost no time in endeavoring to gain over so promising a man as Thompson. A vacancy having occurred in a regiment of the New Hampshire militia, Governor Wentworth gave the commission, which was that of major, to his new friend: an act of attention which, while it seems to have been gratifying to Thompson, did not fail to procure him much ill-will from the officers already in the service, over whose heads he had been promoted. From this period Thompson began to be unpopular in his native province. He was represented as a friend of Great Britain, and an enemy to the interests of the colonies; and this charge was the more readily believed, on account of the marked kindness with which he continued to be treated by the governor, and the indifference which he exhibited to those political questions which were agitating all around him. The truth seems to be, that not only was Thompson, as a man in comfortable circumstances, and fond of the consideration and opportunities of enjoyment which they afforded him, averse to any disturbance, such as a war between the colonies and the mother country would cause, but that his constitution and temperament, his liking for calm intellectual pursuits, disqualified him from taking part in political agitation. Many men who have distinguished themselves in literature and science have, as a matter of principle, kept themselves aloof from the controversies and political dissensions of their time, alleging that, however important such questions might be, it was not in discussing them that their powers could be employed to most advantage. In the case of Thompson, however, who as yet had not begun to lay claim to the character of a man devoted to scientific pursuits, his countrymen thought, not altogether unreasonably, that they had grounds of complaint. What employment was he engaged in, that he ought to be exempted from the duty of a citizen――that of taking an interest in public affairs? So, probably, the most candid and considerate of the American patriots reasoned; and as for the great mass of the populace, they condemned him in the usual summary manner in which the public judges. Not a name was more detested in Massachusetts than that of Benjamin Thompson. He was denounced as a sycophant of the British――a traitor to the interests of the colonies――an enemy of liberty. To such a length did the public hatred of him proceed, that at length, in the month of November 1774, the mob of Concord had resolved to inflict on him the punishment which several other unpopular persons had already experienced――that of being tarred and feathered in the open streets. Receiving intelligence of the design of the mob before it could be carried into execution, Thompson had no alternative but to withdraw from Concord to some other part of the provinces where political excitement did not run so high. Accordingly, he quitted his wife and an infant daughter, who had been born in the previous year, and took refuge first in his native town of Woburn, from which he afterwards removed to Charleston. From Charleston, after a few months residence, he went to Boston, which was then garrisoned by a British army commanded by General Gage.
Thompson was well received by General Gage and the officers of the British army; and his intercourse with them, while it probably gave him a stronger bias towards the side of the mother country than he had yet exhibited, did not contribute to remove the bad opinion his countrymen had formed of his patriotism. Having returned in the spring of 1775, to his native town of Woburn, where he was joined by his wife and daughter, he again ran the risk of being tarred and feathered. The mob surrounded the house where he resided early one morning, armed with guns and sticks, and but for the interference of his old friend Loammi Baldwin, who arrived at the spot in time to use his influence with the crowd, serious consequences might have ensued.
The commencement of open hostilities between the colonists and the British troops in May 1775, made Thompson’s position still more critical. As a major in the militia of the province, he would probably have acted on the side of the patriots, obeying the orders of the Provincial Congress, which had superseded the old government; but the odium attached to his name was such, that his very zeal on the patriotic side would have been misrepresented. In order, therefore, to clear himself of all suspicion, and that he might thenceforth live on good terms with his countrymen, he demanded a trial before the Committee of Correspondence established at Woburn by authority of the new power. The trial was granted: he was put under arrest; and an advertisement was inserted in the newspapers for all who had charges to prefer against his patriotism to come forward. Besides the general allegation of his being a Tory, and a friend and correspondent of Governor Wentworth and General Gage, the only charge made against him on his trial was, that he had been instrumental in sending back to their colors two British deserters, having procured their pardon from General Gage during his residence in Boston. This, which ought properly to have been regarded as a mere act of mercy, was construed in a less favorable manner by Thompson’s judges; and although, on the conclusion of his trial, the court declared that he had done nothing which could legally be considered as a crime, he was set at liberty without the satisfaction of a full and formal acquittal. Against this treatment he protested in the strongest manner, insisting that he should either be punished as guilty, or declared innocent; but his protests were unheeded.
With a view, apparently, to convince his countrymen of his patriotism by actual service, or possibly because he could enjoy more quiet in the army than the ill-will of his fellow-citizens would allow him in his own house, Thompson, as soon as his trial was over, joined a detachment of the troops of Congress stationed at Chelsea. ‘In the hopes of obtaining a commission,’ says his biographer, ‘he paid great attention to tactics, and assisted at the drills of the yet undisciplined forces. He also took up the study of fortification, which he pursued with his usual ardor. Towards the close, however, of the summer of 1775, his position had become irksome, and even dangerous. Suspicions, which it seemed impossible to allay, shut against him all access to military rank in the continental army. He now could not go from place to place within the lines of the army, without being pointed at as the famous Tory Thompson; and though military discipline sheltered him from actual violence, he was exposed to insults that a man of spirit could not brook, and which his position prevented him from resenting. If thus treated within the army, he might infer what awaited him when he should emerge from the out-posts of the camp.’ In these circumstances, he came to the desperate resolution of leaving his native country. ‘I cannot any longer,’ he writes to his father-in-law on the 14th of August 1775, ‘bear the insults that are daily offered to me. I cannot bear to be looked upon and treated as the Achan of society. I have done nothing that can deserve this cruel usage. And notwithstanding I have the tenderest regard for my wife and family, and really believe I have an equal return of love and affection from them, though I feel the keenest distress at the thoughts of what Mrs. Thompson and my parents and friends will suffer on my account, and though I foresee and realize the distress, poverty, and wretchedness that must attend my pilgrimage in unknown lands, destitute of fortune, friends, and acquaintances, yet all these evils appear to me more tolerable than the treatment which I meet with at the hands of my ungrateful countrymen.’
Two months after writing the above, he carried his resolution into effect. Paying off his debts, and converting some of his property into cash, with the expressed intention of removing to some of the southern states, where he might live in greater security, he set out from Cambridge, the headquarters of the American army, on the 10th of October 1775, accompanied by his half-brother, Josiah Pierce, who took leave of him at the nearest post-town. ‘From that hour,’ says his biographer, ‘until the close of the revolutionary struggle, his friends and relatives were without any positive tidings of his fate.’ From accounts afterwards received, it appeared that he had reached Newport on the 11th of October, apparently undecided as to his future movements; that there finding a boat belonging to the British frigate Scarborough, he went on board that vessel, and was afterwards landed at Boston, which his friend General Gage, as commander of the British garrison, was at that time maintaining against the American forces. Here he remained under the protection of the British till the evacuation of the town in March 1776, when he again embarked on board the Scarborough, and set sail for England, the bearer of despatches from General Gage to Lord George Germain, the British secretary of state for colonial affairs. Thus had he fairly renounced all connexion with his native country, and gone to push his fortunes in the old world.
Arriving in England, as he did, the bearer of gloomy despatches, and sustaining the equivocal character of a deserter from the American cause, Thompson soon proved that he was a man who could command his fortune anywhere. The capacity in which he had come over introduced him to various public men, who could not fail to be struck by his abilities, as well as charmed by his manner; and the consequence was, that in a short time after his arrival he was offered a post in the colonial office. Probably the minister was of opinion that none of all the American refugees, who then swarmed in London, was able to render such assistance as Thompson in conducting the department over which he presided.
Of whatever nature were the services which Thompson rendered to the public business, they must have been of considerable value; for in 1780, four years after his arrival in England, he was raised by his patron, Lord Germain, to the post of under-secretary of state for the colonies; an instance of promotion which, considering the circumstances in which the subject of it stood, is almost unexampled. The usual accompaniment of such a situation was, and is, a seat in parliament; and according to the practice of those days, when noblemen had seats in the House of Commons at their disposal, Lord Germain, if he had so chosen, might have conferred a seat on his American protege; but it was probably imagined that the admission into parliament of a man so unpopular in America would be attended with disadvantages, and that, at all events, Thompson’s talents were better fitted for the desk than the senate. The income and consequence, however, which he derived from his office, gave him admission to the highest metropolitan circles; and he had thus opportunities not only of becoming known, but also of exercising his inventive mind in many pursuits not immediately connected with his official duties. Fertility――a disposition to propose improvements in all departments――seems to have been his most striking characteristic; and it was probably this ready genius for practical reforms in everything which came under his notice, that recommended him so much to public men. A man who, in his general intercourse with society, can drop valuable suggestions, allowing others to grasp at them, and enjoy the credit of carrying them into effect, is likely to be a favorite. Thompson appears to have been such a man――a person who, holding no ostensible post but that of under-secretary for the colonies, could yet, out of the richness of an ever-inventive mind, scatter hints which would be thankfully received by men of all professions.
While concerning himself generally, however, in a variety of matters, Thompson was at the same time following out certain specific lines of scientific investigation. ‘As early as 1777,’ says his biographer, ‘he made some curious and interesting experiments on the strength of solid bodies. These were never published, and would probably have been superseded by more full investigations made by subsequent experiments. In 1778, he employed himself in experiments on the strength of gunpowder, and the velocity of military projectiles, and these were followed by a cruise of some months in the channel fleet, where he proposed to repeat his investigations on a larger scale.’ On this subject Thompson communicated several papers to the ‘Philosophical Transactions’ of the Royal Society, of which he had become a member. Passing over these scientific lucubrations, we hasten to reach that period of Rumford’s life at which he found himself in a situation to give full scope to his genius for improvements.
As the war between great Britain and the colonies proceeded, it became evident that the latter must triumph. The anti-American party in Great Britain lost ground; and on the news of the capitulation of Lord Cornwallis reaching England, a division took place in the cabinet, and Lord George Germain found it necessary to resign office. As his policy, however, in American affairs, had been agreeable to the wishes of George III, he retired with the honors of a peerage, and was able still to forward the interests of his friends. Not the least distinguished of these was Under-Secretary Thompson, who, whether he had cooperated with his principal in all his measures and views, or whether, ‘according to his own statement afterwards to Cuvier, he was disgusted at Lord Germain’s want of judgment,’ had at least done a sufficient amount of work to deserve a parting token of regard. Accordingly, by the influence of the fallen minister, Thompson was sent out to New York, in the year 1781, with the royal commission of major, which was afterwards changed for that of lieutenant-colonel, charged with the task of organizing an efficient regiment of dragoons out of the broken and disjointed native cavalry regiments which had been fighting on the royalist side. What were to be the specific uses of this force are now uncertain. The regiment, fortunately, was of no avail.
Peace having been concluded between the United States and Great Britain, Colonel Thompson, shortly after his return obtained leave of absence in order that he might travel on the continent.
Passing through France on his way to Vienna he had reached Strasburg on the German frontier, when an incident occurred which changed his prospects and gave a direction to his life different from what he intended, or could have anticipated. A review of the garrison of Strasburg being held, he presented himself on the field as a spectator, ‘mounted on a superb English horse, and in the full uniform of his rank as a colonel of dragoons. The French officers were eager to make the acquaintance of a conspicuous stranger, the more so that his attendance at a review of French troops in full English uniform was regarded as an act of courtesy which deserved a return. Among those who entered into conversation with him was Prince Maximilian, nephew and presumptive heir of the Elector of Bavaria, and who had served as the commander of a French regiment in the American war. So agreeable was the impression which Thompson made on the prince, that on learning his circumstances and intentions, the later offered him an introduction to his uncle the Bavarian elector, in case he should be inclined to alter his design of proceeding to Vienna, and make trial of the Bavarian service. The proposal pleased Thompson, and, furnished with the prince’s letter of introduction, he set out for Munich. Wherever he went he seems to have had the art, almost in spite of himself, of conciliating favor; and on his very first audience with the Elector of Bavaria, he was offered an important situation at court. Still clinging, however, to his resolution to visit Vienna, he did not accept the offer; but after spending some time at Munich, during which the elector’s esteem for him increased more and more, he set out for the Austrian capital. The elector, however, continued to send him pressing invitations to enter his service; and learning at Vienna that the Turkish war was likely to be brought to a speedy conclusion, Colonel Thompson at length promised that, provided he could obtain the consent of his British majesty, he would take up his residence at Munich. Proceeding to London, in order to obtain the consent which was required, he was received with great kindness by George III, who conferred on him the honor of knighthood, and gave him permission, while resigning the command of his regiment, to retain the title of lieutenant-colonel, and the half-pay attached to it.
In the close of the year 1784, Sir Benjamin Thompson took up his residence in Munich, filling the posts of aid-de-camp and chamberlain to the elector, thus connected both with the military and civil service. Charles Theodore, the ruling prince of Bavaria, was a man of enlightened mind, whose ambition was to elevate the state over which he reigned to a high rank among the various members of the German confederacy. The aristocracy of Bavaria itself not furnishing men of sufficient liberality of view to coöperate with him in his designs of improvement, and the prejudices of the court preventing him from employing able men from among the people, even had there been any such qualified for his purpose, he had judiciously resolved to employ foreign talent in the difficult work of reforming his dominions. The capacity, therefore, in which Sir Benjamin Thompson took up his residence in Munich was that of a man who, unconnected by ties of blood or interest with the people of Bavaria, and furnished only with general ideas applicable to all times and places, was to make it his business, under the auspices of the elector, to take a general survey of the condition of Bavaria, with a view to rectify as much as possible of what was wrong in it. A more noble or responsible situation can scarcely be conceived; and the dignity and responsibility will appear all the greater, when we reflect that the government of Bavaria, being, in its nature despotic, the powers of a man in Thompson’s position――that, namely, of virtual though not ostensible prime minister――were almost unlimited, seeing that there were no constitutional forms, and nothing but the absolute will of the elector, to check or thwart his proceedings.
Another circumstance which rendered the situation of Sir Benjamin Thompson a peculiarly interesting one, was the position of Bavaria at the time. ‘Most of those,’ says Cuvier, ‘who are called to power by adventitious circumstances, are led astray by the opinion of the vulgar. They know that they will infallibly be called men of genius, and be celebrated in prose and verse, if they succeed in changing the forms of government, or in extending the territory of their sovereign but a few additional leagues.’ Happily for Count Rumford, Bavaria at this period had no such temptations for her ministers. Her constitution was fixed by the laws of the empire, and her frontiers defined by the more powerful states who were her neighbors. She was, in short, reduced to that condition which most states consider so hard a one――namely, to have her whole attention confined to the sole object of ameliorating the fortune of her people. The whole attention of Sir Benjamin Thompson, therefore, was necessarily to be concentrated on the internal condition of Bavaria――a country about the size of Scotland, but considerably more populous.
The first subject which occupied the attention of the American-born prime minister of Bavaria was the condition of the army. There were three reasons for this early consideration of the state of the army. In the first place, the condition of the continent of Europe at the time rendered the state of the defensive force a matter of extreme importance to so critically situated a state as Bavaria; in the second place, Thompson’s own tastes inclined him to take an interest in military matters; and lastly, in a despotic state, where a little physical force might be necessary to compel the people to adopt good sanitary or other regulations, the army was the natural instrument to be employed in all such reforms, and to render this instrument efficient was but to begin at the right end.
Omitting all the miscellaneous improvements of a minor or mechanical nature which were effected by Thompson in matters connected with military service――as, for instance, in the construction of cannon, in the uniform of the soldiers, their drill, &c.――let us attend to the moral principle which ruled all his proceedings with regard to the organization of the army. ‘I have endeavored,’ he says, ‘in all my operations, to unite the interest of the soldier with the interest of civil society, and to render the military force even in time of peace, subservient to the public good. To facilitate and promote these important objects, to establish a respectable standing army, which should do the least possible harm to the population, morals, manufactures, and agriculture of the country, it was necessary to make soldiers citizens, and citizens soldiers.’ To this principle, or at least to the precise form in which it is here stated, different persons will make different objections, according as their sympathies are civil or military; but Rumford’s general view, that soldiers should be treated as men, cannot be excepted against. The army being essentially the offspring of an age of physical force, it is certainly difficult to organize it conformably to the spirit of an age which repudiates physical force. To do this――in other words, to make the army, as such, a moral agent――is impossible; but it is quite possible to render a large general culture, and much individual freedom, compatible with strict discipline; and at all events, the modern maxim is, that the army is a part of society, employed, it is true, in services of a peculiar nature, which require a peculiar organization, but not on that account cut off from the general mass of the community. Such was the maxim of the Bavarian minister. Besides what he did to increase the physical comfort of the soldier by superior food, clothing and accomodation, he adopted means for the intellectual and moral improvement of all connected with the military service. ‘Schools were established in all the regiments for instructing the soldiers and their children in reading, writing, and arithmetic. Besides these schools of instruction, others, called Schools of Industry, were established in the regiments, where the soldiers and their children were taught various kinds of work, and from whence they were supplied with raw materials to work for their own emolument.
As nothing is so certainly fatal to morals as habitual idleness, every possible means was adopted that could be devised to introduce a spirit of industry among the troops. Every encouragement was given to the soldiers to employ their leisure time when they were off duty in working for their own emolument; and among other encouragements, the most efficacious of all, that of allowing them full liberty to dispose of the money acquired by their labor in any way they should think proper, without being obliged to give any account of it to anybody.’ Besides working at their various trades for such as chose to employ them, the soldiers were employed as laborers ‘in all public works, such as making and repairing highways, draining marshes, repairing the banks of rivers, &c.; and in all such cases the greatest care was taken to provide for their comfortable subsistence, and even for their amusement. To preserve good order and harmony among those who were detached upon these working parties, a certain proportion of officers and non-commissioned officers were always sent with them, and these commonly served as overseers of the works, and as such were paid.’
The particular plan, however, which enabled Thompson, while he was improving the personal condition of the soldier, and turning the peace establishment to greater account than before for the general good of the country, at the same time to diminish greatly the expense of its support, was that of permanent garrisons. The whole army was distributed through the various cities of the electorate, each city being garrisoned by troops drawn from the surrounding district. This plan possessed many advantages. ‘A peasant would more readily consent to his son engaging himself to serve as a soldier in a regiment permanently stationed in his neighborhood, than in one at a great distance, or whose destination was uncertain; and when the station of a regiment is permanent, and it receives its recruits from the district of country immediately surrounding its head-quarters, the men who go home on furlough have but a short journey to make, and are easily assembled in case of emergency.’ Every encouragement was given to all who could be spared from garrison duty to go home on furlough; an arrangement which was both agreeable to the men――who, during their absence, might be cultivating their little family farms, or otherwise employing themselves at any trade――and economical for the state, because, while the men were on furlough, they received no pay, but only their rations. Thus, while in every garrison town there remained a sufficient nucleus of men to do garrison-duty, and who, while receiving full military pay, were at liberty to earn additional money during their leisure time by extra work, the greater part of the army were distributed through the community, pursuing the ordinary occupations of citizens, but ready to assemble at a few hours’ notice, and bound to be in the field at least six weeks every year. The assumed necessity for such a state of military preparation gives one a striking idea of the condition of the continent at this epoch.
Not content with the mere negative achievement of organizing the army, so that ‘it should do the least possible harm,’ Thompson endeavored to make it an instrument of positive good. His plan of permanent garrisons and easy furloughs, by establishing a constant flux of men to and from a centre, suggested the somewhat novel idea of making the army the medium for spreading useful improvements of all kinds through the country. Supposing, for instance, that pains were taken to teach the soldiers in garrison any useful art not then known in Bavaria, but which might be naturalized there, it is obvious that when these men were distributed over the country on furloughs, they would carry with them not only their own superior industrial habits, but the art itself. The improvement of Bavarian agriculture by this means was one of Thompson’s most anxious wishes. Very few of the recent improvements in that art, he says, such as the cultivation of clover and turnips, the regular succession of crops, &c., had then found their way into general practice; and, above all, the potato was almost unknown in Bavaria. With a view to introduce a better system of agriculture, and especially with a view to naturalize the potato among the Bavarians, Thompson devised the system of military gardens――that is, ‘pieces of ground in or adjoining to the garrison towns, which were regularly laid out, and exclusively appropriated to the use of the non-commissioned officers and private soldiers belonging to the regiments in garrison.’ In these gardens every private soldier was assigned a piece of ground, about three hundred and sixty-five square feet in extent. This piece of ground was to remain the sole property of that soldier as long as he served in the regiment: he was to be at liberty to cultivate it in any way, and to dispose of the produce in any way he chose; if, however, he did not choose to work in it, but wished rather to spend his pay in idleness, he might do so; but in that case the piece of ground was to be taken from him, and so also if he neglected it. Every means was used to attach the soldiers to their garden labor: seeds and manure were furnished them at a cheap rate; whatever instruction was necessary, was given them; and little huts or summer-houses were erected in the gardens, to afford them shelter when it rained. ‘The effect of the plan,’ says Rumford, ‘was greater and more important than I could have expected. The soldiers, from being the most indolent of mortals, and from having very little knowledge of gardening, became industrious and skillful cultivators, and grew so fond of vegetables, particularly potatoes, that these useful and wholesome productions began to constitute a very essential part of their daily food. These improvements began also to spread among the farmers and peasants throughout the whole country. There was hardly a soldier that went on furlough that did not carry with him a few potatoes for planting, and a little collection of garden seeds; and I have already had the satisfaction to see little gardens here and there making their appearance in different parts of the country.’
After reforming the army, the next subject which occupied the attention of the Bavarian statesman was one of universal and perpetual interest――the condition of the poor. In order, however, not to be interrupted in our narrative of his measures for the relief of the poor of Bavaria, we shall note a few of the principal events in his personal history during the period of his residence in that country. In 1784, when he commenced his residence in Bavaria, he was thirty-one years of age. The titles which were then conferred on him were, as we have already informed our readers, those of aid-de-camp and chamberlain. Soon afterwards, however, he received the appointments of member of the council of state, and major-general in the army; the elector at the same time procuring him the decorations of two orders of Polish knighthood, in lieu of the Bavarian order, which the rules of German knighthood prevented him from bestowing. The scientific part of the community also showed their esteem for him by electing him a member of the academies of Munich and Manheim. All this took place not long after Thompson had settled in Munich. Every year of his subsequent stay brought him fresh honors. In 1787, when on a visit to Prussia, he was chosen a member of the Academy of Sciences at Berlin; in Bavaria, to follow the list of dignities given by his American biographer, ‘he attained the military rank of lieutenant-general, was commander-in-chief of the general staff, minister of war, and superintendent of the police of the electorate; he was for a short time chief of the regency that exercised sovereignty during the absence of the elector; and in the interval between the death of the Emperor Joseph and the coronation of his successor Leopold, the elector becoming vicar of the empire, availed himself of the prerogatives of that office to make him a Count of the Holy Roman Empire.’ When this last dignity was conferred on him, Thompson chose the title of Count of Rumford, in memory of the American village where he had once officiated in the humble capacity of schoolmaster. Although it was not till the year 1790, that this title was bestowed on him and the measures we are about to detail were for the most part matured before that time, we shall consult our convenience by henceforth calling him Count Rumford.
The condition of the poor, and the mode of treating them, are questions which every country on earth must incessantly be occupied with; but in few countries, probably, was the necessity of coming to some decided practical conclusion on the subject more glaring, more imperious, than in Bavaria at the time when Count Rumford undertook the social survey of that state. Beggary had there become an enormous and apparently ineradicable evil――a weed overgrowing the whole field. The beggars almost ate up the industrious part of the community. ‘The number of itinerant beggars of both sexes and all ages, as well foreigners as natives, who strolled about the country in all directions, levying contributions upon the industrious inhabitants, stealing and robbing, and leading a life of indolence and the most shameless debauchery, was quite incredible; and so numerous were the swarms of beggars in all the great towns, and particularly in the capital, so great their impudence, and so perserving their importunity, that it was almost impossible to cross the streets without being attacked, and absolutely forced to satisfy their clamorous demands. They not only infested all the streets, public walks, and public places, but they even made a practice of going into private houses; and the churches were so full of them, that people at their devotions were continually interrupted by them, and were frequently obliged to satisfy their demands in order to be permitted to finish their prayers in peace and quiet. In short, these detestable vermin swarmed everywhere; and not only their impudence and clamorous importunity were without any bounds, but they had recourse to the most diabolical arts and most horrid crimes in prosecution of their trade. The growing number of the beggars, and their success, gave a kind of eclat to their profession; and the habit of begging became so general, that it ceased to be considered as infamous, and was by degrees in a manner interwoven with the internal regulations of society. Herdsmen and shepherds who attended their flocks by the roadside, were known to derive considerable advantage from the contributions which their situation enabled them to levy from passengers; and I have been assured that the wages they received from their employers were often regulated accordingly. The children in every country village, and those even of the best farmers, made a constant practice of begging from all strangers who passed; and one hardly ever met a person on foot upon the road, particularly a woman, who did not hold out her hand and ask for charity.’
Count Rumford determined to grapple with this enormous evil, and, if possible, suppress mendicancy in Bavaria. His sagacity and general knowledge of mankind taught him to believe the achievement practicable, and he had already paved the way by his reform of the army. Other preliminaries, however, were necessary; and assisted by the genius of the government of Bavaria, where a sudden stroke of benevolent despotism was more in keeping than it would be elsewhere, he resolved first thoroughly to mature his scheme, and then to pounce upon the beggars when he was prepared to receive them. Although he knew that the people of Bavaria would gladly accept any measure which would relieve them from the dreadful scourge which they had so long borne, yet as so many schemes previously proposed had failed, he resolved to carry his plan into successful execution before he asked a farthing from the people in support of it. The elector’s treasury was accordingly drawn upon for the amount of money necessary in advance.
Munich was to be the scene of his first experiment. And first of all, a building was necessary to receive the beggars when they should be apprehended. A suitable edifice was found situated in the Au, one of the suburbs of Munich. ‘It had formerly been a manufactory, but for many years had been deserted, and falling to ruins. It was now completely repaired, and in part rebuilt. A large kitchen, with a large eating-room adjoining it, and a commodious bakehouse, were added to the buildings; and workshops for carpenters, smiths, turners, and such other mechanics, were established, and furnished with tools. Large halls were fitted up for spinners of hemp, for spinners of flax, for spinners of cotton, for spinners of wool, and for spinners of worsted; and adjoining to each hall a small room was fitted up for a clerk or inspector of the hall. Halls were likewise fitted up for weavers of woolens, weavers of serges and shalloons, for linen weavers, for weavers of cotton goods, and for stocking-weavers; and workshops were provided for clothiers, clothshearers, dyers, saddlers; besides rooms for wool-sorters, wool-carders, wool-combers, knitters, seamstresses, etc. Magazines were fitted up, as well for finished manufactures, as for raw materials, and rooms for counting-houses; storerooms for the kitchen and bakehouse; and dwelling-rooms for the inspectors, and other officers. The whole edifice, which was very extensive, was fitted up in the neatest manner possible. In doing this, even the external appearance of the building was attended to. It was handsomely painted without as well as within; and pains were taken to give it an air of elegance, as well as of neatness and cleanliness.’
All these preparations having been made apparently without exciting any special degree of public curiosity, New-Year’s Day of the year 1790 was chosen for the grand stroke, that being a day when Munich was sure to be unusually full of Beggars. The military was posted through the streets, so as to command the whole town, and the neighboring country was occupied by patrols of cavalry. In the mean time, having assembled at his own residence the magistrates of Munich, and a number of military officers and citizens of rank and dignity, Count Rumford expounded to them his scheme, and requested them to accompany him into the streets where the most difficult part of the work, that of arresting the beggars, was to commence. ‘We had hardly got into the street,’ says Rumford in his narrative of the proceedings, ‘when we were accosted by a beggar, who asked us for alms. I went up to him, and laying my hand gently upon his shoulder, told him that from thenceforward begging would not be permitted in Munich; that if he really stood in need of assistance (which would be immediately inquired into), the necessary assistance should certainly be given him; but that begging was forbidden, and if he was detected in it again, he would be severely punished. I then delivered him over to an orderly-sergeant, who was following me, with directions to conduct him to the Town-Hall, and deliver him into the hands of those he should find there to receive him. Then turning to the officers and magistrates who accompanied me, I begged they would take notice that I had myself, with my own hands, arrested the first beggar we had met; and I requested them not only to follow my example themselves, by arresting all the beggars they should meet with, but that they should also endeavor to persuade others, and particularly the officers and soldiers of the garrison, that it was by no means derogatory to their character, or in any way disgraceful to them, to assist in so useful and laudable an undertaking. These gentlemen having cheerfully and unanimously promised to do their utmost to second me in this business, dispersed into the different parts of the town, and, with the assistance of the military, the town was so thoroughly cleared of beggars in less than an hour, that not one was to be found in the streets.’
The beggars being all taken to the Town-Hall, their names were written down, and they were dismissed to their own homes, with directions to repair next day to the ‘Military Workhouse,’ as the new establishment was called, in consequence of its being fitted out with money from the military chest, and destined chiefly to supply the army with clothing etc. Here they were told they would find comfortable warm rooms, a good warm dinner every day, and work for such as were able to labor, with good wages, which should be regularly paid. They might, or might not come, just as they chose, but at all events they were not to beg any more; and if they appeared in the streets, they should be apprehended. The circumstances of them all, they were told, were immediately to be inquired into, and relief granted to such as required it.
The plan met with immediate success. On the next day a great number of the beggars attended at the Military Workhouse; the rest hid themselves; and so rigorous and effective were the measures adopted to apprehend mendicants, that after trying in vain to renew their old practices, these too were obliged at length to yield. The experiment having succeeded so far, it was judged advisable to appeal to the public for their support; and a paper was accordingly drawn up by Professor Babo of Munich, urging the citizens to do their utmost to rid themselves of the scourge of mendicancy, by coöperating in the new scheme. In this paper allusion is made to a practice of the beggars, which may be here mentioned, as a proof of the deplorable viciousness of the whole system. The beggars of Munich, it appears, drove a lucrative trade in communion and confessional certificates, which they obtained from the clergy by attending twice or thrice a-day at the holy sacrament, and at confession, and afterwards sold to such of the citizens as were averse to church-going, and yet desirous of avoiding the inconveniences which neglect of religious observances entailed in a place where the Roman Catholic clergy had so much power.
Professor Babo’s address having been circulated, with an outline of Count Rumford’s scheme, the citizens of Munich gladly agreed to contribute, to enable the project to be fairly carried out; and indeed, accustomed as they had been to meet the incessant demands of the beggars by as incessant giving, they saw in the new plan not only an immediate moral relief, but a prospect of pecuniary saving. Rumford’s principle was, to depend entirely upon the voluntary contributions of the charitable. The city was divided into sixteen districts; the names of all the inhabitants of each district who were willing to subscribe were taken down, with a note of the sum each volunteered to contribute. This sum might be altered at the pleasure of the subscriber――increased, diminished, or even altogether retracted. The sums were to be collected regularly on the last Sunday of every month, by an officer who was to go round on purpose among the subscribers of each district. Arrangements were also made for the receipt of miscellaneous donations, both large and small; and every possible means was adopted to beget a public confidence in the administration of the fund collected, by making the publication of all accounts imperative.
Two distinct things had now been accomplished by Count Rumford――he had established a workhouse, and he had secured a fund for the relief of the poor. Although the two objects were mixed up together at the commencement, and are of necessity included under the general descriptive head of the ‘Suppression of Mendicancy,’ they ought not to be confounded. In seizing upon the beggars, Count Rumford had adopted the most practicable means for arriving at a very desirable end――the discrimination of the merely idle from the really necessitous. To classify these two sorts of persons was his first object. When this was done, his work then divided itself into two parts――the reclaiming of the idle to habits of industry, and the relief of the really necessitous. The modes of operation for the one and for the other were expressly kept independent; indeed it was one of Rumford’s most careful provisions that the workhouse should not wear the aspect of an institution supported by charity. We shall describe first the progress of the workhouse by which Rumford meant to suppress idleness, and then the means which he employed for relieving the distress which still remained.
Before the opening of the Military Workhouse, it had been fitted up with looms, spinning-machines, &c., as well as furnished with raw materials, especially hemp, the spinning of which is easily learnt. During the first week 2600 mendicants, of both sexes, and various ages, entered the establishment. ‘For the first three or four days,’ says Rumford, ‘it was not possible entirely to prevent confusion. There was nothing like mutinous resistance among the poor people; but their situation was so new to them, and they were so very awkward in it, that it was difficult to bring them into any tolerable order. At length, however, by distributing them among the various halls, and assigning to each his particular place, they were brought into such order, as to enable the inspectors and instructors to begin their operations. Those who understood any kind of work were placed in the apartments where the work they understood was carried on; and the others being classed according to their sexes, and as much as possible according to their ages, were placed under the immediate care of the different instructors.’
Every care was taken to promote the comfort of the people while at work, and to render their work agreeable to them. It being winter, the rooms were well warmed by fires kept regularly burning; the whole establishment was swept twice every day; attention was paid to the ventilation; as far as elegance was possible in halls devoted to work, it was consulted; and the kindest usage was the order of the institution. The people arrived at the establishment at a fixed hour in the morning; they continued at work till the hour of dinner, when they repaired to the dining-hall, where they were furnished with a good dinner of white bread and fine rich soup; and after some hours of further work, they were dismissed, as from any other manufactory, and had all the rest of their time at their own disposal. Besides the dinner-hour, which was allowed as relaxation to all in the establishment, two additional hours, one in the morning, the other in the afternoon, were allowed to the children, during which they were assembled in one of the halls, and taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, by a master paid for the purpose; and as the regular hours of labor were not longer than in any other manufactory, neither they nor the adults were overworked. Lastly, every person in the establishment was regularly paid the wages fixed for the sort of labor he was employed in. The main feature of the scheme was, to impress upon those who attended the establishment that they were not necessarily paupers by their attendance there, but workmen entitled to the wages which they received. ‘The workhouse,’ says Rumford, ‘was merely a manufactory, like any other manufactory, supported by its own private capital, which capital has no connexion whatever with any fund destined for the poor.’ In order to keep this vividly before the workpeople, an inscription, in letters of gold, was placed over the main entrance of the establishment――‘NO ALMS WILL BE RECEIVED HERE.’
It is evident, however, considering the expenses of setting the establishment agoing, considering all the inducements which were held out at first to allure the people to it, especially that of paying them the ordinary rate of wages while they were yet wretchedly bad workmen, in order to keep up their courage――it is evident, in these circumstances, that the institution must at first have been maintained at a loss. Although hemp was selected at first as the material for learners to begin with, as being cheap, yet such was the awkwardness of the beginners, that even in this material a considerable loss was sustained. ‘By an exact calculation, it was found,’ says Rumford, ‘that the manufactory actually lost more than three thousand florins upon the articles of hemp and flax during the first three months. But we were not discouraged by these unfavorable beginnings; and if the establishment was supported at some little expense in the beginning, it afterwards richly repaid the loss.’ By constant practice, the workmen became expert, so that not only hemp, but much more expensive materials, could be intrusted to them with safety; and in a short time it was no longer a mere benevolent pretense to treat them as men earning their wages by a fair amount of labor, for such became the fact. The bustle and activity of the establishment increased from year to year. In the sixth year of its existence the demand upon it for goods amounted to half a million of florins; and the net profits of the six years were calculated at one hundred thousand florins.
It will readily suggest itself to persons acquainted with the doctrines of political economy, that an objection might be raised to Count Rumford’s experiment, from a consideration of what may have been its effects upon the labor market. As all the articles manufactured in the Military Workhouse for the supply of the Bavarian army had formerly been manufactured by other persons, it is evident that the immediate effect of the establishment of the workhouse was to withdraw so much custom from those other persons, whoever they may have been. A moment’s consideration, however, of the state of Bavaria, will rob the consideration of whatever threatening look it may wear in the case which we are now concerned with. These persons, now supporting themselves by the labor of their own hands, had formerly been mendicants, living at the expense of the industrious portion of the community; and viewing the matter, therefore, in its pecuniary aspect alone, the question with the people of Munich was, whether they sustained a greater loss by admitting 2600 persons to be competitors with themselves in the labor market, or by supporting the same 2600 persons as mendicants. Add to this, the moral comfort of living in a town where not a beggar was to be seen, and the still more exquisite satisfaction of reflecting that a number of their fellow-creatures, formerly loathsome, vicious, and wretched, were now living in cleanliness, propriety, and happiness. On the merits of the institution in this point of view, hear the words of count Rumford himself. After alluding to the expertness which the members of the establishment acquired in the various manufactures, he proceeds――‘But what was quite surprising, and at the same time interesting in the highest degree, was the apparent and rapid change which was produced in their manners. The kind usage they met with, and the comforts they enjoyed, seemed to have softened their hearts, and awakened in them sentiments as new and surprising to themselves as they were interesting to those about them. The melancholy gloom of misery, the air of uneasiness and embarrassment, disappeared by little and little from their countenances, and were succeeded by a timid dawn of cheerfulness, rendered most exquisitely interesting by a certain mixture of silent gratitude which no language can describe. In the infancy of this establishment, when these poor creatures were first brought together, I used very frequently to visit them, to speak kindly to them, and to encourage them; and I seldom passed through the halls where they were at work without being a witness to the most moving scenes. Objects formerly the most miserable and wretched, whom I had seen for years as beggars in the street; young women, perhaps the unhappy victims of seduction, who, having lost their reputation, and being turned adrift in the world without a friend and without a home, were reduced to the necessity of begging to sustain a miserable existence, now recognized me as their benefactor, and with tears dropping fast from their cheeks, continued their work in the most expressive silence. If they were asked what the matter was with them, their answer was, ‘Nichts’ [‘Nothing’], accompanied by a look of affectionate regard and gratitude so touching, as frequently to draw tears from the most insensible of the bystanders. Why should I not mention the marks of affectionate respect which I received from the poor people for whose happiness I interested myself? Will it be reckoned vanity if I mention the concern which the poor of Munich expressed in so affecting a manner when I was dangerously ill?――that they went publicly in a body in procession to the cathedral church, where they had divine service performed, and put up public prayers for my recovery?――that, four years afterwards, on hearing that I was again dangerously ill at Naples, they of their own accord set apart an hour each evening, after they had finished their work in the Military Workhouse, to pray for me; for me――a private person――a stranger――a Protestant!’
Having thus described the procedure at the Military Workhouse――which, although it was established with a philanthropic design, and had at first the aspect of a charitable institution, was in fact no such thing, but a mere commercial concern, yielding a profit on the capital invested in it――we shall now briefly narrate Count Rumford’s plan of dealing with the pauperism of Munich――with the real poverty and destitution which remained after all that could be effected by the Military Workhouse.
The entire management of the poor of Munich was put into the hands of a committee, consisting of four of the principal Bavarian ministers of state――namely, the president of the council of war, the president of the council of regency, the president of the ecclesiastical council, and the president of the chamber of finances; and these four were to choose each a counselor of his own department to assist him. Neither the presidents nor the counselors were to be paid for their labors in this committee; and the secretary, clerks, and inferior officers required, were to be paid, not out of the fund for the poor, but immediately from the treasury. The mode of reaching the poor was as follows:――The whole town, containing about 60,000 inhabitants, was divided into sixteen districts, the houses being all regularly numbered. In each district, a respectable citizen was chosen to be inspector of the poor within its limits. This inspector, whose services were to be purely voluntary, and unpaid, was to have for his assistants a priest, a physician, a surgeon, and an apothecary. The business of the inspector was to receive applications for relief, to inquire into the circumstances of the applicants, to furnish immediate assistance if it was required, and, where assistance might be delayed, to refer to the committee. Relief was granted, as might be required, in clothing, in medical aid, or in weekly sums of money; but in making the allowance, care was taken to find out how much the applicant was in a condition to earn. If he was able to work, work was provided for him, either at the Military Workhouse, or at home, to be delivered at the workhouse. The fact of his having been industrious, was certified by a government stamp affixed by the overseers of the workhouse every week to a slip of paper, on which also was marked the sum he had earned, and whatever was necessary for his support over and above this sum was granted. Those who could not work, were of course provided for. The funds out of which all the provisions were made consisted, as we have already said, of the voluntary contributions of the inhabitants. There were a few legacies for the poor; certain fines, also, went into the poor’s fund; but the great mass of the money required was collected statedly from the citizens in the manner described in a previous page, not by assessment, but by purely voluntary subscription. Besides donations in food and clothing, the sum collected in ready money during five years from the inhabitants of Munich was 200,000 florins, which was found amply sufficient for all purposes. It must be remembered, however, that the peculiar circumstances of the people of Munich, in having just been relieved from the scourge of mendicancy, made them more apt to fall into the habit of voluntary subscriptions than probably might be the case with the inhabitants of other towns not so circumstanced. Indeed the citizens of Munich effected a clear pecuniary saving by the change――a saving amounting in all to more than two-thirds. This saving consisted of two items:――First, an actual diminution of the mass of pauperism, numbers of those who formerly subsisted by charity being now able to support themselves either in whole or in part; and secondly, a retrenchment of all that waste which accompanies a private dispensation of charity, as compared with a system of general management, where, in consequence of the wholesale scale of operations, economy can be studied. The value of this second consideration will appear when we come to speak of Count Rumford’s devices for economising food and fuel.
It will now be seen how the Military Workhouse, and the system of management for the poor, worked into each other’s hands, although in principle totally independent of each other. No part of the Military Workhouse was under the control of the committee for the poor, except only the kitchen and bakehouse, which, as being supported out of the funds for the poor, were placed under their management.
Having thus described, at considerable length, Count Rumford’s measures for the suppression of mendicancy in Munich, it only remains to be added that our description is to be taken rather as a historical account of an interesting and apparently successful experiment, than as a thorough appreciation of its merits as a social scheme. To criticise all the details of Count Rumford’s plan, especially as a plan of universal application, would require much space, and would lead to controversy. It may be safely said, however, that while some parts of the scheme may be theoretically objectionable, and others may not be adapted for circumstances different from those in which they had their origin, the general features of the scheme are as sound as the spirit which prompted it was philanthropic.
PLANS FOR ECONOMISING FOOD AND FUEL.
As one of Count Rumford’s reasons for preferring a general system for the administration of charity was the superior economy which it admitted, especially in the articles of food and fuel, it is not to be wondered at that he turned his attention to a consideration of the subject of food and fuel itself. In doing so, he opened up a new field for the exercise of his practical genius. What is the cheapest way of feeding large bodies of men? and what is the most economical way of applying heat for the purposes of warmth, of cooking, and of manufactures? These are questions upon which Count Rumford occupied himself more zealously and more successfully than any one had done before him, or, probably, than any one has done since his time. With the former question he was engaged while yet resident in Bavaria――one of his subsidiary schemes for the benefit of the poor there, and in other large towns, being the establishment of public kitchens and dining-rooms, where the poor, or indeed the laboring classes generally, might be supplied with better food at a cheaper rate than in their own houses. As the subject of cookery――of the improvements which are possible in the mode of preparing food for the use of man, whether with respect to economy, or to the gratification of the palate, or to both――is one to which scientific men have not yet applied themselves with sufficient zeal, we will note down such of Rumford’s conclusions on it as do not appear to be antiquated. The importance which Count Rumford himself attached to the subject will appear from his extraordinary saying, that ‘the number of inhabitants who may be supported in any country upon its internal produce, depends almost as much upon the state of its art of cookery as upon that of its agriculture.’
With regard to the materials of food, it needs only to be mentioned that Rumford, besides recommending in Bavaria a larger use of vegetables generally, advocated in a special manner the introduction of the potato, and of Indian corn――the former by cultivation, the latter by importation. In recommending Indian corn, he says, ‘The common people in the northern parts of Italy live almost entirely upon it, and throughout the whole continent of America it makes a principal article of food. In Italy it is called polenta; and it is there prepared in a variety of ways, and forms the basis of a number of very nourishing dishes. The most common way of using it in that country is to grind it into meal, and, with water, to make it into a thick kind of pudding, like what in England is called hasty-pudding, which is eaten with various kinds of sauce, and sometimes without sauce.’ In America, besides being used for puddings, it forms an ingredient of bread. In testimony to its pleasantness and wholesomeness as an article of food, he mentions the circumstance of the universal fondness of the Americans for it; and that the negroes, in countries where both rice and Indian corn are grown, invariably prefer it to rice, alleging that ‘rice turns to water in their bellies,’ but ‘Indian corn stays with them, and makes them strong to work.’
As to the best mode of preparing food for the purposes of economy, Rumford’s grand recipe was――soup. ‘At the time when Rumford entered the service of the elector,’ says his biographer, Dr. Renwick, ‘the pay of the private soldier was no more than about three cents a day; under his administration it was raised to about four cents. Out of this he was compelled to purchase every article of food, except bread, of which a ration of little more than two pounds was issued to him. When we compare this scanty allowance with the rations of our own army and navy, we should fancy that the condition of the Bavarian soldiers must have been miserable in the extreme; but so far from this being the case, they are described as ‘the finest, stoutest, and strongest men in the world, whose countenances show the most evident marks of health and perfect contentment.’ Such was the skill in cookery possessed by the Bavarian soldier, that he was enabled to subsist on two-thirds of his scanty pay, and, in addition, to save five-sixths of his ration of bread, which he sold.’ By inquiries and experiments, Rumford became convinced that the cause of the mystery lay in the fact, that the Bavarian soldier used his food almost universally in the form of soup. ‘What surprised me not a little,’ he says, ‘was the discovery of the very small quantiy of solid food which, when properly prepared, will suffice to satisfy hunger, and support life and health; and the very trifling expense at which the stoutest and most laborious man may in any country be fed. After an experience of nearly five years in feeding the poor at Munich, it was found that the cheapest, most savory, and most nourishing food that could be prepared was a soup composed of pearl barley, pease, potatoes, cuttings of fine wheaten bread, vinegar, salt, and water, in certain proportions. I constantly found that the richness or quality of a soup depended more upon a proper choice of the ingredients, and a proper management of the fire, than upon the quantity of solid nutritious matter employed――much more upon the art and skill of the cook, than upon the amount of the sums laid out in the market. I found also that the nutritiousness of a soup, or its power of satisfying hunger, and affording nourishment, seemed always to be in proportion to its apparent richness or palatableness.’
Struck with these remarkable results, Rumford endeavoring to explain them, by supposing that the water used in converting solid nutritious matter into soup became of itself nutritious, serving not merely as the vehicle for food, but really constituting a part of the food itself. This supposition of Rumford is now ascertained to be a mistake. ‘Physiologists, however,’ says Dr. Renwick, ‘have reached the true explanation. The quantity of matter required to supply the waste of the body at all ages, and furnish the material for the growth of the young, is small compared with the actual capacity of the digestive organ, while the latter is not satiated, nor the appetite satisfied, unless it receive a certain degree of distention. A quantity of warm liquid, holding so much nutritious matter in solution as to render digestion necessary, will fulfill the latter object as well as an equal bulk of solid food; while the necessity of expelling the excess above the actual wants of the system many in the latter case be productive of evil.’
With such a decided preference for the soup form of food as Count Rumford had been led to entertain, it is not to be wondered at that soup was an essential feature in all his schemes for the benefit of the poor. Soup was the great article of food employed in his experiments in Munich; and in his contemplated project of public kitchens and dining-rooms for large towns, the necessary condition of success was, that soup should be the staple diet. He even went into the details of the composition of soup; and his essays contain receipts for making various kinds of soup, with and without butcher-meat. The following judicious observations of Rumford’s American biographer seem to sum up both the merits and the demerits of these experiments and speculations:――‘The only question which admits of doubt is, how the description of food preferred by Rumford is adapted to the circumstances of all countries. Now, to the greater part of the Anglo-Saxon race, soup, if not an abomination, will never be received as the staple of more than one daily meal; while tea and coffee, whose use Rumford reprobates, with their accompaniment of sugar, have become necessaries of life. In Paris, soup, which became for a while the fashionable mode of administering charity, was well adapted to the habits of the people; but in England and America it was received with grumbling, or rejected by all who could in any other mode obtain food. One reason no doubt was, that it was considered sufficient to make the food nutritious, without attempting to make it pleasing to the palate. This defeat is far from inherent; for the soups of Rumford, whether containing none but vegetable matter, or a mixture of animal substance, may be easily rendered as delicious as the most costly preparations of the French kitchen.’
Besides the general schemes which we have mentioned, Count Rumford was engaged, during his residence in Bavaria, in many minor plans of social improvement; indeed, as we have already said, he acted the part of surveyor-general of the abuses of the electorate. It was not in the nature of things that he should be able to proceed in his various innovations and reforms without provoking some jealousy and opposition among the Bavarian nobles: the support and favor, however, of the elector never failed him, and with the people at large he was exceedingly popular. In the year 1794, finding his health greatly impaired by his close attention to business, he obtained leave of absence from the elector, and employed sixteen months in traveling through various parts of the continent, especially Italy. During his absence, two very gratifying testimonies of respect and gratitude were borne to him by the Bavarians. The first was, the erection of a monument to commemorate his public services. The other was still more honorable to him: it was the resolution, already referred to, of the inmates of the Military Workhouse, when they heard that he was dangerously ill at Naples, to set apart an hour every evening to pray for his recovery. In 1795 Rumford returned to Bavaria, but left it almost immediately, to proceed on a visit to England. Here he was received with all distinction, and his opinion and advice were asked by all engaged in philanthropic schemes. To save himself the labor thus entailed upon him, he resolved to publish an account of his doings and experiments in Bavaria, and accordingly prepared for the press the two volumes of essays which go by his name. The only subject of general interest in these essays, apart from the purely scientific disquisitions, which remains to be mentioned by us, is that of fuel.
In undertaking to reform chimneys and fireplaces, Count Rumford had three objects in view――the saving of fuel, the prevention of smoke, and the avoidance of the injury to health arising from drafts. The extent of his services in this unpretending but most important department will be better estimated if we consider the state of fireplaces in most European countries fifty or sixty years ago. ‘The most polished nations of antiquity,’ says Dr. Renwick, ‘had no other means of providing for the issue of the smoke of their fires than by leaving openings in the roof. They indeed appear, in some instances, to have heated apartments by flues circulating beneath the floors, which must have terminated in a vertical funnel, thus forming an approximation to the chimney; but there appears to be no instance of the arrangement of an open hearth and vertical flue until late in the middle ages. Chimneys and fireplaces of the latter date are still to be seen in the kitchens and halls of baronial mansions; but the hearths were of great size, the arched openings wide and lofty, insomuch that they could be entered by persons standing upright, and admitted seats to be placed on each side of the fire. The latter, indeed, were the only places where the warmth of the fire could be enjoyed without exposure to the currents of cold air continually rushing in to join the ascending column in the chimney. Even when an increasing scarcity of fuel compelled less extravagant modes of applying it to be sought, the arched opening remained of a large size, the fireplace of a depth equal in extent to its front, and the walls were carried back perpendicularly to the latter. In England, where coal had come into almost universal use as a fuel, the grates in which it was burnt were almost exact cubes, and were lined with cast-iron on the sides and back. The evils of these fire-places may be recollected by all whose age reaches fifty; and they are remembered with feelings in which shuddering and scorching are strangely combined, but which are almost unknown, and scarcely to be imagined, by the present generation. Chimneys which did not smoke were the exception to the general rule; and the exposure of the surface of the body to cold currents generated the acute pains of rheumatism, while the frequent alternations of an increased and checked perspiration caused colds, to be followed, in regular course, by pulmonary complaints. In this state of things Rumford undertook to remedy the manifold evils of the open fireplace.’
Observing that the heat of a mass of blazing fuel in a grate consisted of two parts――that which radiated into the room, and served the purposes of warmth; and that which, by heating the column of air in the chimney, caused it to ascend, Rumford saw that an enormous saving could be effected by diminishing the size of the grate. Instead of a cubical mass of fuel, such as was generally used, he proposed to employ a grate of ordinarily broad front, but not deep backward, and with the sides not perpendicular to the front, but inclining. The effect of this was to limit the fire to the single function of warming the room by radiation from its front, while the mass of coal which had formerly been consumed without any benefit to the apartment was saved. In order, however, to prevent the smoking of the chimneys which would have arisen from this diminution of the burning mass, another change was necessary, and this was the narrowing the throat of the chimney, so as to allow no more air to pass through it than the precise quantity required to maintain the combustion. ‘The immoderate size of the throats of chimneys,’ says Rumford, ‘is the great fault of their construction. It is this fault which ought always first to be attended to in every attempt which is made to improve them; for however perfect the construction of a fireplace may be in other respects, if the opening left for the passage of the smoke is larger than is necessary for that purpose, nothing can prevent the warm air of the room from escaping through it; and whenever this happens, there is not only an unnecessary loss of heat, but the warm air which leaves the room to go up the chimney being replaced by cold air from without, drafts of cold air cannot fail to be produced in the room, to the great annoyance of those who inhabit it.’
Such is a general description of Count Rumford’s alterations in fireplaces. The subject, however, was pursued by him to its minutest details, and illustrated by numerous and specific plans for curing smoky chimneys under all possible circumstances. He likewise invented various forms of stoves and grates, intended to exhibit the model perfection of an apparatus for heating rooms, or for cooking victuals. So thorough and complete was his investigation of the subject, that little remained afterwards to be added to his conclusions; and it may be said, that any case of the continuance of a smoky chimney after the publication of his essays, arose from a neglect or misapplication of the principles there developed.
After some stay in Great Britain, he returned to Munich in 1796, accompanied by his daughter, who had come over from America at his request, her mother having died in 1792. What were Count Rumford’s relations with America, during the long interval of his absence from it, we have no means of ascertaining; as far as can be inferred, however, he seems to have maintained little correspondence with his former friends in the United States till after his wife’s death; and one cannot help remarking the unpleasing circumstance, that while on one side of the Atlantic the husband was enjoying an honorable position, and filling a large space in the public eye, the wife and daughter continued during the life of the former to reside on the other.
Rumford, on his return to Munich, was occupied in very important affairs. The advance of the French republican army under Moreau obliged the elector to quit the capital, leaving a council of regency, with Rumford at its head. Rumford succeeded in the arduous task of freeing Bavaria from invasion, and his conduct on this occasion increased his reputation with the elector and with the people. Among other tokens of the elector’s gratitude for his services, he was permitted to settle one-half of the pension which he enjoyed on his daughter, to be paid during her lifetime. In 1798 the elector, partly with a view to gratify him with an honor which he knew he desired, and partly to afford him another opportunity of relaxation for the improvement of his health, appointed him ambassador at the court of Great Britain. On arriving in London, however, Rumford found, that in consequence of the English legal fiction, by which a born subject of the country is declared incapable of ever alienating his allegiance, he could not be received as the Bavarian ambassador. Mortified as he must have been by this circumstance, and still more deeply grieved by the loss of his friend and patron, the Elector Charles Theodore, who died in 1799, Rumford contemplated returning to spend the remainder of his life in the land of his birth. In compliance with a formal invitation which he received from the United States government, he was making preparations for his return, and had written to a friend to secure a cottage in the vicinity of Boston, as a ‘quiet little retreat,’ when he was led to change his design, and remain in London, in the society of which he occupied a conspicuous place. During several years, a great part of the Count Rumford’s time was devoted to the interests of the Royal Institution, of which he may be considered the founder. The objects of this institution, now one of the recognized scientific establishments of the world, and one which can boast of having given employment to such men as Young, Davy, Brande, and Faraday, were ‘to diffuse the knowledge and facilitate the general introduction of useful mechanical inventions and improvements, and to teach, by courses of philosophical lectures and experiments, the application of science to the useful purposes of life.’ Such an institution was precisely the one which Rumford was qualified to superintend; and in its early history, the influence of his peculiar habits of thought is discernable in the choice of subjects for investigation by the members. Subsequently, the institution assumed the high scientific character which it yet holds.
In 1802, Count Rumford left England, and spent some time in travel. Revisiting Munich, he found the workhouse which he had planned, and which had been instrumental in producing so much good, abolished, and the new elector, Maximilian, friendly indeed but indisposed to follow the footsteps of his predecessor. Accordingly, after assisting in modeling a Bavarian academy of sciences, he took farewell of his adopted country, and went to reside in Paris, retaining an income of about £1200 from the Bavarian court. At the same time his daughter returned to America, her father having abandoned his intention of returning along with her. In Paris, Count Rumford appears at first to have gained the good-will and esteem which had attended him so remarkably during his previous life; and not long after he began his residence there, he contracted a second marriage with the widow of the celebrated Lavoisier, put to death during the French Revolution. From 1804 to 1814 he resided with his wife at Auteuil, a villa at a short distance from Paris, the property of Madame Lavoisier, and the scene of many of her former husband’s discoveries. Here Rumford employed himself in scientific pursuits of a miscellaneous nature. The union of the American-born citizen of the world with the widow of the illustrious Frenchman does not appear to have been a happy one; and there is evidence that, towards the end of his life, Rumford had become unpopular in Parisian society. Cuvier attributes this to a certain coarseness and want of urbanity of manner; possibly, however, the fault was less in the person criticised than in the Parisian standard of criticism, for the charge seems inconsistent with the tenor of Rumford’s life.
Rumford’s death took place at Auteuil on the 21st of August 1814, in the sixty-second year of his age. He left some bequests for the promotion of science in America; the rest of his property, which does not appear to have been great, he left to his relatives. His only daughter inherited the title of Countess of Rumford, with the continuation of her father’s Bavarian pension. She is, we believe, still alive, and has long resided in Paris.
Rumford, whose memoirs we have now detailed, was not a faultless character, or a person in every respect exemplary; but making due allowances for circumstances in which he was at the outset unfortunately placed, and keeping in mind that every man is less or more the creature of the age in which he lives, we arrive at the conclusion, that few individuals occupying a public position have been so thoroughly deserving of esteem. The practical, calm, and comprehensive nature of his mind, his resolute and methodical habits, the benevolence and usefulness of his projects, all excite our admiration. Cuvier speaks of Rumford as ‘having been the benefactor of his species without loving or esteeming them, as well as of holding the opinion that the mass of mankind ought to be treated as mere machines.’ A remark this which is applicable to not a few men who have been eminent for labors of a humane description, and which naturally gives rise to this other remark――that a good intellectual method, directed to practical ends, is often of more value to mankind than what is called a good heart.
NICOLAS COPERNICUS.
In the whole range of human science, no subject is calculated to excite such sublime ideas as astronomy; and to its study, therefore, the greatest minds have been directed both in ancient and modern times. Ancient, however, as are the investigations into the relations of the heavenly bodies, a correct idea of the planetary system was scarcely known before the sixteenth century of the Christian era. The theory generally received on that subject by the Chaldeans, Egyptians, Greeks, and other ancient nations, and which continued predominant till a comparatively recent period, described the earth as the center of all bodies occupying space, while the Moon, Venus, Mercury, the Sun, the planets, and the stars, revolved around it on a succession of solid spheres, at different distances, and at different rates of speed, so as to produce the appearances which are daily and nightly presented to our eyes in the heavens. Six centuries before the commencement of our era, Anaximander, Pythagoras, and other Grecian philosophers, had conceived some faint notion of a more correct system; but when they ventured to suggest that the sun was a fixed body, and that the earth was only one of a set of planets moving round it, they experienced so much persecution on account of the inconsistency of their doctrines with the religious ideas of the people, that they failed to establish their theory on a permanent basis. When learning and the arts revived in Italy in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, some attention was paid in the universities to astronomy; but the system taught was no better than that which Aristotle, Ptolemy, and other ancient astronomers had sanctioned, and which represented the sun and planets as moving round the earth. The time at length arrived for the revival of the correct notions entertained by Anaximander and Pythagoras.
Nicolas Copernicus, the modern to whom the honor of reviving that doctrine is due, was born, February 19, 1473, at Thorn, on the Vistula――a place now included in the dominions of the king of Prussia. The father of Copernicus was a native of Westphalia, a part of Germany: he had chanced to settle at Thorn, as a surgeon, about ten years before the birth of his son. Young Copernicus was educated for the profession of medicine at the university of Cracow; but his favorite studies were mathematics, perspective, astronomy, and painting. At an early age, inspired by an eager wish to distinguish himself in astronomy, he proceeded to Italy, and studied that science at the university of Bologna. It is supposed that a discovery of his teacher Dominic Maria, respecting the changes of the axis of the earth, was what first awakened his mind to the errors of the planetary system then taught. From Bologna he proceeded to Rome, where for some time he taught mathematics with great success――pursuing all the while, as far as circumstances would permit, his astronomical observations.
When he afterwards returned to his native country, his maternal uncle, the bishop of Ermeland, appointed him a canon in the cathedral of Frauenburg and at the same time he was nominated by the inhabitants of his native town to be archdeacon in one of their churches. He then resolved to devote his life to three objects――the performance of his clerical duties, gratuitous medical attendance on the poor, and the pursuit of his favorite studies. His residence was established in one of the houses belonging to the canons of Frauenburg, on the brow of a height near the cathedral, where astronomical observations could be conducted under very favorable circumstances; and in its walls are still to be seen the openings which he made, in order to observe the passage of stars across the meridian. It is supposed to have been about the year 1507 that he first became convinced of the superiority of the planetary theory of Pythagoras. He determined, however, to be very cautious in adopting, and still more cautious in announcing, an opinion so much at variance with the ordinary ideas of mankind. Mathematical instruments were in that age very rude, and the telescope had not been invented. The only implements which Copernicus had for making observations were two, coarsely framed of firwood, with measures marked by lines of ink. Thus provided, he devoted himself for several years to the inquiries necessary for proving his theory; and at length, about the year 1530, he had completed a work, in which the whole system was expounded――namely, the immobility of the sun in the centre of the planetary system; while its apparent motion, and the alternations of day and night, were to be attributed to the annual and diurnal movements of the earth. The real distances of the planets, and the declination of the pole of the earth, were also explained.
The doctrines of Copernicus were already known to a considerable number of learned and comparatively enlightened persons, who received them with due respect; and it is creditable to the Romish church that several of its dignitaries were among the number. But the bulk of mankind, including their religious teachers, were then comparatively ignorant, and accordingly prejudiced; and however firm the conviction of the astronomer as to the truth of his theory, he yet hesitated to make it public, dreading the opposition it would have to encounter――seeing that it opposed the inveterate prejudices of the learned, and the illusory testimony of the senses. In reasoning, they acted under the guidance of rules which made it scarcely possible for them to ascertain truth, or to acknowledge it when it was presented to them in the clearest light. If anything had been said in former times by a person whose memory they respected, they would not willingly listen to anything which contradicted, or seemed to contradict it. They walked, in short, by authority, and not by the dictates of reflection; and the consequence was, that every new truth which experience or the inquiries of the best minds brought forth, had to contend with the less worthy notions which had come down from earlier and darker ages. Amongst the opinions received by them, was that which represented the earth as the immovable centre of the universe. It was sanctioned by the greatest men of ancient times; it had long been taught; it was conformable to the common appearances of things; and various passages in the Scriptures were believed to assert it, though in reality those passages only do not contradict (and this probably for wise purposes) the ordinary ideas of mankind respecting the stability of the earth. Copernicus only acted, therefore, with necessary caution, when he hesitated to publish the work which had cost him the labor of so many years.
Rheticus, one of the friends to whom he had communicated his theory, at length, in 1540, ventured to give an outline of it to the world in a small pamphlet, which he published without his name. As this excited no disapprobation, the same person reprinted it next year with his name. In both publications the doctrines were ascribed openly to Nicolas Copernicus. About the same time, a learned man, Erasmus Reinhold, in a work which he published, spoke of the new doctrines with the greatest respect, and styled their author a second Ptolemy; for it often happens that the greatest compliment that can be paid to the discoverer of truth, is to mention him in the same breath with some founder of error. Copernicus now allowed himself to be pursuaded by his friends to publish his work; and it was accordingly put to press at Nuremburg, under the care of some learned persons of that city. But he was now an old man, and it was not his lot to live to see the book published. As soon as it was printed, a copy of it was sent to him by his friend Rheticus, but it only reached him, May 23, 1543, a few hours before he expired. He appeared to be scarcely conscious of the object to which so many years of his life had been devoted. But his mission was accomplished. Committed to the perpetuating operations of the infant printing-press, all danger was over of losing the germ of those great and fertile truths which in our days render astronomy the most perfect of sciences.
The theory of Copernicus was thus brought before the world; but, whether from the death of the philosopher, or because little disturbance of popular notions was anticipated from so learned a work, or from whatever other circumstances, it was visited with no marks of reprobation from any quarter at the time. In proportion, however, as it became known, so did its opponents increase. Those were the days when the fagot and stake made short work with those who presumed to strike out a course of thinking for themselves; and though the author of the system and its immediate adopters passed unmolested, yet during the century which ensued were its followers and supporters persecuted with all the zeal and cruelty that bigotry and ignorant prejudice could devise. Truth, however, is imperishable; and, though repressed and retarded for a season, is ever sure to take its right place among the established beliefs of mankind. And thus it has been with the Copernican theory, whose importance to the progress of accurate science we cannot in reality over-estimate. To form anything like an adequate idea of the value of its author’s services to the cause of science, we must place ourselves back in the time and circumstances which saw their birth. Then, it must be remembered, the want of telescopes rendered all appearances in the sky much more difficult of explanation than they would have been a century later. The accumulated errors and superstitions of fourteen centuries were not to be easily shaken and removed; neither were the prejudices and dogmas of the learned to be disturbed with impunity. What might have been astronomical science, was, even in the writings of the fathers, little better than a mass of absurd and subtle disquisitions on the substance of the heavens and the heavenly bodies. All these Copernicus had to surmount; and the elaboration of his theory presents an ever-memorable example of the power of patient and earnest thought in the investigation of a complicated subject, and acuteness of discrimination between the true and the fallacious.
TYCHO BRAHE.
Of eminent astronomers, the next in point of time was Tycho Brahè, who, though adopting the Ptolemaic notion of the earth being the fixed and immovable centre of the universe, yet did good service to the progress of the science by his numerous observations and discoveries. Descended of an ancient and noble family, originally of Sweden, but settled in Denmark, Tycho was born December 14, 1546, at Knub Strup, in the bailiwick of Schönen, the jurisdiction of which was then held by his father. When seven years old, he commenced the study of the classics, his education, as well as that of his brothers, being intrusted to private tutors. His father dying, his uncle sent him, in 1559, to study philosophy and rhetoric at Copenhagen, where it was intended to train him for some civil employment. The great eclipse of the sun on the 21st August 1560, happening at the precise time the astronomers foretold, he began to look upon astronomy as something divine; and purchasing the tables of Stadius, gained some notion of the theory of the planets. His thoughts were now wholly engrossed with astronomy; and though sent by his uncle, in 1562, to study jurisprudence at Leipsic, mathematics, and not law, were the subject of his private labors. It is told of him, that, having procured a small celestial globe, he was wont to wait till his tutor had gone to bed, in order to examine the constellations and learn their names; and that, when the sky was clear, he used to spend whole nights in viewing the stars. He abandoned the amusements and pleasures fitting for his age, and devoted his pocket-money to the purchase of mathematical and astronomical books, the perusal of which he persisted in, in spite of the remonstrances and rebukes of his preceptor. About this time he also began to apply himself to chemistry, less perhaps for the cause of the science, than with a view to discover the Philosopher’s Stone and the grand Elixir of Life――a digression from his astronomical career, prompted no doubt by the natural supersition and enthusiasm of his constitution.
In 1571 he returned to Denmark; and was favored by his mother’s brother, Steno Belle, a lover of learning, with a convenient place at the castle of Herritzvad, near Knub Strup, for conducting his observations and building a laboratory: but marrying a peasant girl beneath his rank, such a violent quarrel ensued between him and his relations, that Frederick II, king of Denmark, was obliged to interpose to reconcile them. In 1575, he began his travels through Germany, and proceeded as far as Venice, meeting with the kindliest attention from various philosophers and crowned heads. This attention, conjoined with certain offers made him by the Landgrave of Hesse, and the greater facility of procuring better apparatus, induced him to think of removing his family to Basil; but Frederick of Denmark, being informed of his design, and unwilling to lose such an ornament to his country, promised (to enable him to pursue his studies) to bestow upon him for life the island of Hveen in the Sound, to erect an observatory and laboratory there, and to defray all the expenses necessary for carrying on his designs. Tycho Brahè readily embraced this proposal; and, accordingly, the first stone of the observatory was laid in August 1576. The king also bestowed on him a pension of two thousand crowns, a fee in Norway, and a canonry, which brought him one thousand more. In this retreat he was visited by various princes; among others, by James VI of Scotland, when proceeding to Denmark to marry the princess Anne. This monarch, of literary memory, made the astronomer several presents, and with his own hand wrote some verses in his praise. In Uranienborg, for such he had styled his new erection, he framed that system of the universe which is yet known by his name; namely, that the earth remains fixed and immovable as the grand centre, and that the sun and all the heavenly bodies revolve around it――a doctrine the reverse of that of Copernicus, which all succeeding astronomers have adopted. But though mistaken in this conception, we are indebted to him for a more correct catalogue of the fixed stars; for several important discoveries respecting the motions of the moon and comets, and the refraction of the rays of light; and for valuable improvements in astronomical instruments. Tycho was likewise a skillful chemist, and found in poetry his recreation from severer studies. His Latin poems are said to exhibit considerable merit; but his chemical manipulations partook too much of the alchemy of his day to be of use to future inquirers.
Happy might our philosopher have been in the castle of Uranienborg, had not his impetuous character, and his fondness for satire, made him many enemies, who prejudiced Christian IV, the successor of Frederick II, against him. On the death of his patron, he was deprived of his pension, fee, and canonry; and finding himself incapable of bearing the expenses of his observatory, he went to Copenhagen, whither he brought some of his instruments, and continued his observations in the city, till Valkendorf, chamberlain to Christian, commanded him, by the king’s orders, to discontinue them. He then removed his family to Rostock, and afterwards to Holstein, to solicit Henry Ranzon to introduce him to the Emperor Rodolphus, who was a great friend to astronomy and astrology. Succeeding in his wishes, he was received by the emperor with the greatest civility and respect; provided with a magnificent house, till he could procure one more fit for astronomical observations; allotted a pension of three hundred crowns; and promised, upon the first opportunity, a fee for himself and his descendants. Unluckily he did not long enjoy this happy situation; for, being suddenly taken ill with a fatal disease, he was cut off on the 24th of October 1601, in the fifty-fifth year of his age. He was interred with great pomp and ceremony in the principal church of Prague, where a noble monument was erected to his memory; thus like many other men of eminence, receiving in a strange land the honors that had been denied him in his own.
Tycho was, notwithstanding his faults and weaknesses, a remarkable man for the age in which he lived; his errors and misjudgments being to a great extent those of his era. His skill in astronomy is universally admitted; and though failing to establish his system over that of Copernicus, yet no one can deny him the merit of advancing by his labors the progress of the science. That he was addicted to astrology, presages, and the occult sciences, is true; but these were features of the age more than of individuals: that he was impetuous, sarcastic, and unamiable, is to be regretted; but it must also be admitted that the grossest injustice was done him and the cause of science by the successor of his patron. Most of his works, which were numerous, and written in Latin, are still extant. The Emperor Rodolphus purchased his expensive astronomical and other instruments; but they were mostly destroyed after the battle of the Weisseberg, near Prague, in 1620. A large sextant alone remains in Prague. The famous brass celestial globe, which was six feet in diameter, and cost about a thousand pounds, returned to Copenhagen after various adventures, but perished in the great fire of 1728. The castle of Uranienborg, where he nightly watched and pondered, has long been in ruins, leaving scarcely a trace of its structure and character. All, however, has not perished, nor been fruitless. ‘It was the friendship of Tycho,’ says an eminent authority, ‘which formed Kepler, and directed him in the career of astronomy. Without this friendship, and without the numerous observations of Tycho, of which Kepler found himself the depositary after the death of his master, he would never have been able to discover those great laws of the system of the world which have been called ‘Kepler’s Laws,’ and which, combined with the theory of central forces, discovered by Hüygens, conducted Newton to the grandest discovery which has ever been made in the sciences――that of universal gravitation.’
GALILEO.
The Copernican theory, which Tycho had labored in vain to supersede, was next received and supported by an Italian philosopher, whose name and history are inseparably interwoven with the progress of astronomy. That illustrious individual, Galileo Galilei, usually known by his Christian name, was born at Pisa in 1564. His father, a Tuscan nobleman of small fortune, caused him to be educated for the profession of medicine at the university of his native city. While studying there, he became deeply sensible of the absurdities of the philosophy of Aristotle, as it had then come to be taught, and he became its declared enemy. That spirit of observation for which he was so distinguished was early developed. When only nineteen years old, the swinging of a lamp suspended from the ceiling of the cathedral in Pisa, led him to investigate the laws of the oscillation of the pendulum, which he was the first to employ as a measure of time. He left it incomplete, however, and it was brought to perfection by his son, Vincenzo, and particularly by Hüygens, the latter of whom must be regarded as the true inventor of the pendulum. About this period Galileo devoted himself exclusively to mathematics and natural science, and in 1586 was led to the invention of the hydrostatic balance. In 1589, his distinction in the exact sciences gained for him the chair of mathematics in his native university, where, immediately on his installation, he began to assert the laws of nature against a perverted philosophy. In the presence of numerous spectators, he performed a series of experiments in the tower of the cathedral, to show that weight has no influence on the velocity of falling bodies. By this means he excited the opposition of the adherents of Aristotle to such a degree, that, after two years, he was forced to resign his professorship. Driven from Pisa, he retired into private life; but his genius being appreciated in another part of Italy, he was, in 1592, appointed professor of mathematics in Pudua. He lectured here with unparalleled success. Scholars from the most distant regions of Europe crowded round him. He delivered his lectures in the Italian language instead of Latin, which was considered a daring innovation.
During eighteen years which he spent at Padua, he made many discoveries in natural philosophy, which he introduced into his lectures, without regard to their inconsistency with the doctrines previously taught. Among these may be mentioned his discovery of the rate of descent in falling bodies; certain improvements on the thermometer; some interesting observations on the magnet; and a number of experiments relative to the floating and sinking of solid bodies in water. In 1609, hearing that one Jansen, a Dutchman, had made an instrument by which distant objects were made to appear near, Galileo, whose mind was prepared for the discovery, instantly conceived on what principle it was constructed, and, without losing a day, he fashioned a similar instrument with many improvments: such was the origin of the telescope, the most interesting of all instruments connected with science.
Turning his optical tube towards the heavens, Galileo perceived the moon to be a body of uneven surface, the elevations of which he computed by their shadows; and the sun to be occasionally spotted; and from the regular advance from east to west of these spots, he inferred the rotation of the sun, and the inclination of its axis to the plane of the ecliptic. From a particular nebula, which his rude instrument enabled him to resolve into individual stars, he even conjectured, what Lord Rosse has but recently proved, that the whole Milky Way was but a vast assemblage of stars and systems. He discovered that the planet Venus waxed and waned like the moon, that Saturn had something like wings by its sides (afterwards found to be a ring), and that Jupiter was surrounded by four satellites. It is now altogether impossible to imagine the wonder and delight with which these discoveries must have filled the mind of a philosopher like Galileo, who had perhaps long surmised that all was not as it seemed in the heavens, but despaired of ever being able to penetrate the mystery. In the year 1611, while entering upon his investigations, he was induced, by the invitation of his prince, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, to return to Pisa, and resume the chair of mathematics there, with a large salary. It was consequently at that city that he first gave his discoveries to the world. That persecution which had only been suspended by accident in the case of Copernicus, now fell with full weight on the head of the Italian philosopher. Having openly declared, in a work which he published, that his discoveries proved the truth of the Copernican theory, he was denounced by the clergy as a heretic, and obliged, in 1615, to proceed to Rome, and appear before the court of Inquisition, who obliged him to promise that he would never more broach such dangerous doctrines. It has been stated, but is not quite certain, that he was on this occasion imprisoned by the Inquisition for five months, and that he would have suffered still more severely if the Grand Duke had not interceded for him.
For several years he observed the silence enjoined upon him, but continued to pursue the study of the true theory of the heavens. Panting to make known to the world a complete account of the system of Copernicus, yet dreading the prejudices of his enemies, he fell upon the expedient of writing a work, in which, without giving his own opinion, he introduces three persons in a dialogue, of whom the first defends the Copernican system, the second the Ptolemæan (or that of Aristotle), and the third weighs the reasons of both in such a way, that the subject seems problematical, though it is impossible to mistake the preponderance of arguments in favor of Copernicus. With this great work, which is still held in reverence, Galileo went to Rome in 1630, in the sixty-sixth year of his age, and, by an extraordinary stretch of favor, received permission to print it. Scarcely had it appeared at Rome and Florence, when it was attacked by the disciples of Aristotle, and most violently of all by the teacher of philosophy at Pisa. A congregation of cardinals, monks, and mathematicians, was appointed to examine his work, which they unhesitatingly condemned as highly dangerous, and summoned him before the tribunal of the Inquisition. This blow fell heavily on the head of Galileo, now an old man, and left defenseless by the death of his friend and patron, Cosmo II. He was compelled to go to Rome in the winter of 1633, and was immediately immured in a cell in one of the prisons of the Inquisition. There he remained for several months, when, being brought before an assembly of his judges, he was condemned to renounce, kneeling before them, with his hand upon the gospels, what were called the ‘sinful and detestable errors and heresies’ which he had maintained. The firmness of Galileo gave way at this critical moment of his life: he pronounced the recantation. But at the moment he rose, indignant at having sworn in violation of his conviction, he exclaimed, stamping his foot, ‘E pur si muove!’――(‘It still moves!’) Upon this dreadful relapse into heresy, he was sentenced to imprisonment in the Inquisition for life, and every week for three years was to repeat the seven penitential psalms; his ‘Dialogues’ were also prohibited, and his system utterly condemned. Although Galileo was in this manner sentenced to confinement, it appeared to those who judged him that he would not be able, from his age, to endure such a severe punishment, and they mercifully banished him to a particular spot near Florence.
Here Galileo lived for several years, employing his time in the study of mechanics and other branches of natural philosophy. The results are found in two important works on the laws of motion, the foundation of the present system of physics and astronomy. At the same time he tried to make use of Jupiter’s satellites for the calculation of longitudes; and though he brought nothing to perfection in this branch, he was the first who reflected systematically on such a method of fixing geographical longitudes. He was at this time afflicted with a disease in his eyes, one of which was wholly blind, and the other almost useless, when, in 1637, he discovered the libration of the moon. Blindness, deafness, want of sleep, and pain in his limbs, united to embitter his declining years; still his mind was active. ‘In my darkness,’ he writes in the year 1638, ‘I muse now upon this object of nature, and now upon that, and find it impossible to soothe my restless head, however much I wish it. This perpetual action of mind deprives me almost wholly of sleep.’ In this condition, and affected by a slowly-consuming fever, he expired in January, 1642, in the seventy-eighth year of his age. His relics were deposited in the church of Santa Croce, at Florence, where posterity did justice to his memory by erecting a splendid monument in 1737.
Galileo is represented by his biographers as of diminutive stature, but strong and healthy, of agreeable countenance, and lively conversation and manner. He preferred living in the country, where his relaxations consisted in the cultivation of his garden, and in the company and conversation of his friends. He loved music, drawing, and poetry; and is said to have been so fond of Ariosto, that he knew the whole of the ‘Orlando’ by heart. He had few books; ‘the best book,’ he said, ‘is nature.’ A complete edition of his works, in thirteen volumes, appeared at Milan in 1803, the style of which is natural and fluent, so elegant and pure, that it has been held up by competent judges as a model of classical Italian. ‘Altogether,’ says Professor Playfair, ‘Galileo is one of those to whom human knowledge is under the greatest obligation. His discoveries in the theory of motion, in the laws of the descent of heavy bodies, and in the motion of projectiles, laid the foundation of all the great improvements which have since been made by the application of mathematics to natural philosophy. If to these we add the invention of the telescope, the discoveries made by that instrument, the confirmation of the Copernican system which these discoveries afforded, and lastly, the wit and argument with which he combated and exposed the prejudice and presumption of the schools, we must admit that the history of human knowledge contains few greater names than that of Galileo.’
KEPLER.
Cotemporary with Tycho Brahé and Galileo, and to some extent the associate and successor of the former, was John Kepler, one of the most eminent astronomers who have appeared in any age, and to whom the science is indebted for much of its present perfection. He was born December 27, 1571, at Wiel in Wurtemberg, and was descended of a noble but reduced family. His father, originally an officer of distinction in the army of Wurtemberg, was, at the time of young Kepler’s birth, in the humble capacity of a small inn-keeper; and thus, as is too often the case with genius, our philosopher had to struggle into fame through poverty and the vicissitudes of his father’s fortune. Poor, unbefriended, of a weakly constitution, and one of the most diminutive of children, Kepler received the rudiments of knowledge at the Monastic school of Maulbrunn, where he gave early indications of talent, and of that irrepressible spirit which, amid the severest obstructions, was never diverted from the main object of its pursuit. After his father’s death, which took place in his eighteenth year, he left Maulbrunn, and succeeded in entering the college of Tubingen. Here he completed the course of study then prescribed――first philosophy and mathematics, and then theology; taking the degree of Bachelor in the year 1588, and that of Master of Philosophy in the year 1591. Of apt inquiring powers as a divine, and of more than average eloquence as a preacher, Kepler could now have readily succeeded in the church; but mathematics and the exact sciences were his favorite themes; and it may be fairly questioned if ever he turned a single thought to the clerical profession, beyond what the curriculum of the university compelled. In 1593-4, his reputation as a geometrician had so increased, that he was invited to fill the mathematical chair in the university of Gratz, in Styria. Here he pursued his astronomical studies with the most commendable zeal, devoting himself especially to the investigation of the physical causes of the motion of the celestial bodies.
Shortly after his installment, he married a lady descended from a noble family, and was beginning to enjoy that domestic happiness and studious quiet so congenial to his wishes, when persecution on account of his religion compelled him to leave Gratz, to which, however, he was afterwards recalled by the states of Styria. Meanwhile Tycho Brahé, who had come to Germany, and was comfortably settled under the munificent patronage of Rodolphus, fixed upon Kepler as a suitable assistant, and soon induced him, by urgent letters and flattering promises, to accept of the situation. Compelled in a great measure by the unsettled state of affairs in Austria, Kepler speedily repaired to Prague, and applied himself, in conjunction with Tycho, to the completion of the Rodolphine Tables, which were first published at Ulm in 1626. At Tycho’s recommendation, he was established at that place; but as his office and science did not afford him a subsistence, he studied medicine, in order to gain a livelihood by its practice. The emperor had assigned him a salary, but in the period of trouble which preceded the Thirty Years’ War, it was not paid. Even when he was appointed imperial mathematician by Matthias, Rodolphus’ successor, his hopes of recovering his arrears were disappointed. Fresh controversies with the clergy, and the disturbed state of the country, made his situation very uncomfortable: he therefore left Lintz, repaired to Ratisbon, declined an invitation to England, was confirmed by the succeeding emperor, Ferdinand, in the office of imperial methematician, and afterwards went to Ulm to superintend the printing of the Rodolphine Tables. In 1627 he returned to Prague, and received from the emperor six thousand guilders. He finally became a professor at Rostock, on the recommendation of Albert, duke of Wallenstein, but did not receive the promised compensation. In 1630 he went, by permission of the emperor, to Ratisbon, to claim payment of the arrears of his pension; but he was there seized with a violent fever, supposed to have been brought upon him by too hard riding; and to this he fell a victim in the month of November, in the fifty-ninth year of his age. In 1808, a monument, consisting of a Doric temple enshrining his bust, was erected to his memory in Ratisbon by Charles Theodore Von Dalberg.
Kepler is represented by his biographers as a man of small stature, thin, of a weak constitution, and defective sight; but of somewhat gay and sportive manners. He was attached to his science with the most fervent enthusiasm; he sought after truth with eagerness, but forgot, in the search, the maxims of worldly prudence. To him were allotted but a scanty share of what are commonly esteemed the pleasures of life; but he endured all calamities with firmness, being consoled by the higher enjoyments which science never fails to impart to her true and cordial votaries. ‘As an astronomer,’ says Lalande, ‘he is as famous in astronomy for the sagacious application which he made of Tycho’s numerous observations (for he was not himself an observer), as the Danish philosopher for the collection of such vast materials.’ To him, says another authority, the world is indebted for the discovery of the true figure of the planetary orbits, and the proportions of the motions of the solar system. Like the disciples of Pythagoras and Plato, Kepler was seized with a peculiar passion for finding analogies and harmonies in nature; and though this led him to the adoption of strange and ridiculous conceits, we shall readily be disposed to overlook these, when we reflect they were the means of leading him to the most important discoveries. He was the first who discovered that astronomers had been mistaken in ascribing circular orbits and uniform motions to the planets, since each of them moves in an ellipse, having one of its foci in the sun; and after a variety of fruitless efforts, he, on the 15th of May 1618, made his splendid discovery, that the squares of the periodic times of the planets are always in the same portion as the cubes of their mean distances from the sun. The sagacity of this wonderful man, and his incessant application to the study of the planetary motions, pointed out to him some of the genuine principles from which these motions originate. He considered gravity as a power that is mutual between bodies; that the earth and moon tend toward each other, and would meet in a point so many times nearer to the earth than to the moon as the earth is greater than the moon, if their motions did not prevent it. His opinion of the tides was, that they arise from the gravitation of the waters towards the moon; but his notions of the laws of motion not being accurate, he could not turn his conceptions to the best advantage. The prediction he uttered at the end of his epitome of astronomy, has been long since verified by the discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton; namely, that the determination of the true laws of gravity was reserved for the succeeding age, when the Author of Nature would be pleased to reveal these mysteries.
NEWTON.
The year in which Galileo died, was that in which Isaac Newton was born. This eminent individual, who was destined to establish the truth of the discoveries of his illustrious predecessors, Copernicus and Galileo, was born on the 25th of December 1642, at Coltersworth, in Lincolnshire, where his father cultivated his own moderate paternal property. After receiving the rudiments of education, under the superintendence of his mother, he was sent, at the age of twelve, to the grammar school at Grantham, where the bias of his early genius was shown by a skill in mechanical contrivances, which excited no small admiration. Whilst other boys were at play, his leisure hours were employed in forming working models of mills and machinery; he constructed a water-clock from an old box, which had an index moved by a piece of wood sinking as the drops fell from the bottom, and a regular dial-plate to indicate the hours.
On his removal from school, it was intended that he should follow the profession of a farmer, but his utter unfitness for the laborious toils of such a life was soon manifested. He was frequently found reading under a tree when he should have been inspecting cattle, or superintending laborers; and when he was sent to dispose of farming produce at Grantham market he was occupied in solving mathematical problems in a garret or hay-loft, whilst the business was transacted by an old servant who had accompanied him to town. These strong indications of the bias of his disposition were not neglected by his anxious mother; she sent him again for a few months to school, and on the 5th of June 1660, he was admitted a student of Trinity College, Cambridge.
The combination of industry and talents, with an amiable disposition and unassuming manners, naturally attracted the notice of his tutors, and the friendship of his admiring companions; amongst these was Isaac Barrow, afterwards justly celebrated as a preacher and a mathematician. Saunderson’s Logic, Kepler’s Optics, and the Arithmetic of Infinites by Wallis, were the books first studied by Newton at Cambridge. He read the geometry of Descartes diligently, and looked into the subject of judicial astrology, which then engaged some attention. He read little of Euclid, and is said to have regretted, in a subsequent part of his life, that he had not studied the old mathematician more deeply.
The attention of Newton, while he was pursuing his studies at Cambridge, was attracted to a branch of natural philosophy hitherto little understood――namely, light. It was the opinion of the celebrated philosopher Descartes that light is caused by a certain motion or undulation of a very thin elastic medium, which he supposed pervaded space. Newton overturned this theory. Taking a piece of glass with angular sides, called a prism, he caused the sun to shine upon it through a small hole in the shutter of a darkened apartment. By this experiment he found that the light, in passing through the glass, was so refracted or broken, as to exhibit on the wall an image of seven different tints or colors; and after varying his experiments in a most ingenious way, he established the very interesting facts, that light is composed of rays resoluble into particles, that every ray of white light consists of three primary and differently colored rays (red, yellow, and blue), each of which three is more or less refrangible than the other. This remarkable discovery laid the foundation of the science of optics.
In 1665, the students of the university of Cambridge were suddenly dispersed by the breaking out of a pestilential disorder in the place. Newton retired for safety to his paternal estate: and though he lost for a time the advantages of public libraries and literary conversation, he rendered the years of his retreat a memorable era in his own existence, and in the history of science, by another of his great discoveries――that of the theory of gravitation, or the tendency of bodies towards the center of our globe. One day, while sitting in his garden, he happened to see an apple fall from a tree, and immediately began to consider the general laws which must regulate all falling bodies. Resuming the subject afterwards, he found that the same cause which made the apple fall to the ground, retained the moon and planets in their orbits, and regulated, with a simplicity and power truly wonderful, the motions of all the heavenly bodies. In this manner was discovered the principle of gravitation, by a knowledge of which the science of astronomy is rendered comparatively perfect.
On his return to Cambridge in 1667, he was elected Fellow of Trinity College; and two years afterwards, he was appointed professor of mathematics in the place of his friend Dr. Barrow, who resigned. His great discoveries in the science of optics formed for some time the principal subject of his lectures, and his new theory of light and colors was explained, with a clearness arising from perfect knowledge, to the satisfaction of a crowded and admiring audience. He was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society in 1671, and is reputed to have been compelled to apply for a dispensation from the usual payment of one shilling weekly, which is contributed by each member towards the expenses. He had at this period of life no income except what he derived from his college and professorship, the produce of his estate being absorbed in supporting his mother and her family. His personal wishes were so moderate, that he never could regret the want of money, except as much as it limited his purchases of books and scientific instruments, and restricted his power of relieving the distresses of others. About the year 1683, he composed his great work, The Principia, or Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy. In 1688, the memorable year of the Revolution, he was chosen to represent the university in parliament, and the honor thus conferred on him was repeated in 1701. His great merit at last attracted the notice of those who had it in their power to bestow substantial rewards, and he was appointed warden of the Mint, an office for which his patient and accurate investigations singularly fitted him, and which he held with general approbation till his death. Honors and emoluments at last flowed upon him. Leibnitz, having felt envious of the discoveries of Newton, tried to revenge himself by transmitting a problem, which he thought would show his superiority, by baffling the skill of the English mathematician. It was received by Newton in the evening, after his usual day’s labor at the Mint, and he solved it before he retired to rest. After this there was no further attempt made to traduce his fame. In 1705 he received the honor of knighthood from Queen Anne.
Newton’s benevolence of disposition led him to perform all the minor duties of social life with great exactness; he paid and received frequent visits; he assumed no superiority in his conversation; he was candid, cheerful, and affable: his society was therefore much sought, and he submitted to intrusions on his valuable time without a murmur; but by early rising, and by a methodical distribution of his hours he found leisure to study and compose, and every moment which he could command, he passed with a pen in his hand and a book before him. He was generous and charitable――one of his maxims being, that those who gave nothing before death, never, in fact, gave at all. His wonderful faculties were very little impaired, even in extreme old age; and his cheerful disposition, combined with temperance and a constitution naturally sound, preserved him from the usual infirmities of life. He was of middle size, with a figure inclining to plumpness; his eyes were animated, piercing, and intelligent; the general expression of his countenance was full of life and kindness; his sight was preserved to the last; and his hair in the decline of his days was white as snow. The severe trial of bodily suffering was reserved for the last stage of his existence, and he supported it with characteristic resignation. On the 20th of March 1727, he expired at the advanced age of eighty-four years.
The character of Newton cannot be delineated and discussed like that of ordinary men; it is so beautiful, that the biographer dwells upon it with delight, and the inquiry, by what means he attained an undisputed superiority over his fellow-creatures, must be both interesting and useful. Newton was endowed with talents of the highest order; but those who are less eminently gifted, may study his life with advantage, and derive instruction from every part of his career. With a power of intellect almost divine, he demonstrated the motions of the planets, the orbits of the comets, and the cause of the tides of the ocean; he investigated with complete success, the properties of light and colors, which no man before had even suspected; he was the diligent, sagacious, and faithful interpreter of nature, while his researches all tended to illustrate the power, wisdom, and goodness of the Creator. Notwithstanding, also, his reach of understanding and knowledge, his modesty was such, that he thought nothing of his own acquirements; and he left behind him the celebrated saying, ‘that he appeared to himself as only a child picking up pebbles from the shore, while the great ocean of truth lay unexplored before him.’
HUYGENS.
While Newton, in England, was thus enlarging the boundaries of astronomy, and conferring upon it a degree of accuracy and system hitherto unknown, a number of continental philosophers were contributing materials, which, though of an humble character, were not the less necessary to the future progress of the science. First among these was Christian Hüygens, Lord of Zeelhem, born at the Hague on the 14th of April 1629, and descended of a rich and respected family. His father, secretary and counselor to the Princess of Orange, and distinguished as a scholar and poet, was not slow in observing the genius of his son, and, full of paternal solicitude for his improvement, became his first instructor. He early taught him music, arithmetic, and geography――says a writer in the Encyclopædia, from which we select the materials of this notice――and initiated him, when about thirteen, in the knowledge of mechanics, for which the boy had evinced a surprising aptitude. At fifteen, he received the assistance of a master in mathematics, under whose tuition he made great progress; and at sixteen, was sent to Leyden, to study law under the eminent jurisconsult Vinnius. He did not, however, permit jurisprudence to divert him from his mathematical studies, which he now prosecuted with success as well as afterwards at Breda, at the university of which he resided from 1646 to 1648. In these two cities he had respectively as masters two very able geometers, Francis Schooten and John Pell; and his first essays were so successful, that they attracted the notice of Descartes, to whom the author, in his admiration of that great philosopher, had communicated them. Descartes predicted his future greatness, but did not live to appreciate his discoveries.
On quitting the university, Hüygens, as was then the custom, made the tour of Europe; and after his travels, settled in his native country, where he commenced that series of inventions which have rendered his name so justly celebrated. Between the years 1650-60, his pursuits were chiefly mathematical, resulting in several publications of acknowledged merit. In 1655 he traveled into France, and took the degree of Doctor of Laws at Angers; and in 1658 made known his invention of the pendulum clock. In the following year he published his discoveries relative to the planet Saturn; discoveries which inseparably associate his name with the science of astronomy. Galileo had endeavored to explain some of the appearances exhibited by that planet. He had at first observed two attendant stars, but some time afterwards was surprised to find that they had disappeared. Hüygens, desirous to account for these changes, labored with his brother Constantine to improve the construction of telescopes; and having at length made an instrument of this kind, possessing greater power than any which had yet been contrived, he proceeded to observe the phases of Saturn, and to record all the different aspects of that planet. The results were of equal interest and importance to the science of astronomy. He discovered a satellite of that planet which had hitherto escaped the notice of astronomers; and after a long course of observation, he showed that the planet is surrounded by a solid and permanent ring, which never changes its situation. In 1660 he took a second journey into France; and the year following he visited England, where he communicated the art of polishing glasses for telescopes, and was admitted a member of the Royal Society. The air-pump, then recently invented, he materially improved; and about the same time he also discovered the laws of the collision of elastic bodies, as did afterwards Wallis and Wren, who disputed with him the honor of the discovery. After a stay of some months in England, Hüygens returned to France, where, in 1633, his merit became so conspicuous, that Colbert resolved to bestow on him such a pension as might induce him to establish himself at Paris. This resolution was not carried into effect until 1665, when letters in the king’s name were written to the Hague, where the philosopher then resided, inviting him to repair to Paris, and offering him a considerable pension, with other advantages. Hüygens accepted the proposal; and from 1666 to 1681, settled at Paris, where he was admitted a member of the Royal Academy.
During this period he was chiefly engaged in mathematical pursuits: he wrote and published several works, which were favorably received; and he invented and improved some useful instruments and machines. By continued application, his health began to be impaired, and he at length found it necessary to return to his native country――a step somewhat accelerated by the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, which rendered him liable to molestations, although assured of the fullest privilege to follow his own religious opinions. He accordingly left the French metropolis in 1681; passed the remainder of his days in his own country, and in the pursuit of his favorite subjects; and died at the Hague on the 8th of June 1683, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. ‘This illustrious man,’ continues our authority, ‘gave his whole time to science; he loved a quiet studious life, and found sufficient enjoyment in pursuing curious and useful researches. He was modest, amiable, cheerful, and in all respects as estimable in private life as he was eminent in science. It is not a little singular that the discovery of the real nature, or at least of the true figure, of the luminous ring which encompasses the planet Saturn, should have been made by the same individual who invented the pendulum clock and the micrometer.’ His inventions, however, were more of a mathematical and mechanical than of an astronomical character; and we safely predict, that had Hüygens lived in the present day, he would have risen to superlative fame as a mechanician and engineer.
HALLEY.
Dr. Edmund Halley, a name well known in the annals of astronomy, was the only son of a soap-boiler in London, and was born in 1656. He received the rudiments of his education at St. Paul’s School in his native city; and in his seventeenth year, became a commoner in Queen’s College, Oxford. At first he applied himself to the study of the languages and sciences, but at length gave himself wholly up to that of astronomy; and before he had attained his nineteenth year, published a method of finding the aphelia and eccentricity of planets, which supplied a defect in the Keplerian theory of planetary notions. By some observations on a spot on the sun’s disk in the summer of 1676, he established the certainty of the motion of that body round its own axis; and in the same year fixed the longitude of the Cape of Good Hope, by his observations of the occultation of Mars by the Moon. Immediately after, he went to St Helena, where he staid till 1678, completing a catalogue of the fixed stars of the southern hemisphere, which was published in the following year, and gained for its author the appellation of the ‘Southern Tycho.’ In 1679 he was called upon to settle a dispute between the English philosopher Hooke and the celebrated Hevelius, respecting the use of optical instruments in astronomy, and for this purpose went to Dantzic, where with honorable impartiality, he decided against his own countryman. In 1680 he made the tour of Europe, making the acquaintance of Cassini at Paris, and completing his observations from the Royal Observatory of France on the comet which now bears his name. After spending the greater part of 1681 in Italy, he returned to England, and settled at Islington, where he fitted up an observatory for his astronomical researches.
In 1683 he published his Theory of the Variation of the Magnetical Compass, in which he endeavored to account for the phenomenon, by the supposition of the whole globe being one great magnet, having four circulating magnetical poles or points of attraction. His theory, though unsatisfactory, is ingenious. The doctrines of Kepler relative to the motions of the planets next engaged his attention; and finding himself disappointed in his endeavors to obtain information on the subject from Hooke and Sir Christopher Wren, he went to Cambridge, where Newton, then mathematical professor, satisfied his inquiries. In 1691 he was candidate for the Savilian professorship of astronomy at Oxford――a chair which he would have obtained, had he not refused to profess his thorough belief in all the doctrines of the Christian religion, as taught by the church of England. For the purpose of making further observations relative to the variation of the compass, he set sail on a voyage in 1699 (having obtained the command of a vessel from King William, who was anxious to promote the cause of geographical and astronomical science); and after traversing both hemispheres, and making important observations at numerous stations, he returned to England in September 1700. As the result of his researches, he published a general chart, showing at one view the variation of the compass in all those seas where the English navigators were acquainted; and thus laid the foundation of that department of science which has since received the attention of the greatest philosophers. His next employment, under the patronage of the king, was to observe the tides in the English Channel, with the latitudes and longitudes of the principle headlands; observations which were shortly after published in a large map of the Channel. In 1703, he was engaged by the emperor of Germany to survey the coast of Delmatia; and returning in November of that year to England, he was elected Savilian professor of geometry on the death of Dr. Wallis, and was also honored with the diploma of LL.D.; a title somewhat more in consonance with his pursuits than that of ‘Captain,’ by which he had been styled from the time of his appointment to the command of the surveying vessel furnished him by King William. Dr. Halley now gave his mind more entirely to mathematics, translating into Latin from the Arabic and Greek several treatises, which he afterwards published with supplementary matter, such as those of Appolonius and Serenus.
In 1719 he received the appointment of astronomer-royal at Greenwich, where he afterwards chiefly resided, devoting his time to completing the theory of the motion of the moon, which notwithstanding his age, he pursued with enthusiastic ardor. In 1721 he began his observations, and for the space of eighteen years, scarcely ever missed taking a meridian view of the moon when the weather was favorable. He died at Greenwich in 1742, at the advanced age of eighty-six, having spent one of the most active and useful lives on record. His honors and titles were numerous, but no more than his multifarious occupations and achievements entitled him to. In all he exhibited the same promptness of resolve and incessant assiduity, willing to assist or be assisted; and never deigning it beneath him to confess when ignorant, nor to receive information from any quarter, however humble. Whether as Captain Halley, as secretary to the Royal Society, consulting engineer to the emperor of Germany, or astronomer-royal, he was the same ardent, prompt, and indefatigable laborer. His publications and papers were numerous; he gave important assistance to Dr. D. Gregory in the preparation of the conic sections of Appolonius; and to Halley are we also indebted for the publication of several of the works of Sir Isaac Newton, who had a particular friendship for him, and to whom he frequently communicated his discoveries.
FERGUSON.
We pass by several authors and observers who contributed during the time of Hüygens and Halley, to the advancement of astronomy, to notice the life of an individual whose career, while beneficial to the science under review, furnishes an ever-memorable instance of the acquirement of knowledge under the most pressing difficulties and obstructions. The most of those to whom we have adverted were men in independent circumstances, or at least so situated as to obtain at once a liberal education and the patronage and support of the great and wealthy. James Ferguson, the ingenious experimental philosopher, mechanist, and astronomer, to whom we allude, had no such advantages. He was born in 1710, a few miles from Keith, a village in Banffshire, in the north of Scotland. His parents were of the poorest order, but honest and religious, and, by toilsome labor in the cultivation of a few rented acres, contrived to rear to manhood a large family of children. Of the manner in which James acquired the rudiments of education, and how he struggled to rise from obscurity to distinction, we have a most interesting account in a memoir by himself, which we cannot do better than quote in an abridged form.
After mentioning how he learned to read with a very scanty aid from an old woman and his father, and that little more than three months’ tuition at the grammar school of Keith was all the education he ever received, he thus proceeds:――‘My taste for mechanics was soon developed; but as my father could not afford to maintain me while I was in pursuit only of these matters, and as I was rather too young and weak for hard labor, he put me out to a neighbor to keep sheep, which I continued to do for some years; and in that time I began to study the stars in the night. In the daytime I amused myself by making models of mills, spinning-wheels, and such other things as I happened to see. I then went to serve a considerable farmer in the neighborhood, whose name was James Glashan. I found him very kind and indulgent; but he soon observed, that in the evenings, when my work was over, I went into a field with a blanket about me, lay down on my back, and stretched a thread with small beads upon it, at arms-length, between my eye and the stars, sliding the beads upon it till they hid such and such stars from my eye, in order to take their apparent distances from one another; and then, laying the thread down on a paper, I marked the stars thereon by the beads, according to their respective positions, having a candle by me. My master at first laughed at me; but when I explained my meaning to him, he encouraged me to go on; and, that I might make fair copies in the daytime of what I had done in the night he often worked for me himself. I shall always have respect for the memory of that man.
‘I soon after was introduced by a schoolmaster whom I knew to a Mr. Cantley, an ingenious man, who acted as butler to Thomas Grant, Esq., of Achoynaney, and from whom I received some instruction, particularly in decimal arithmetic, algebra, and the first elements of geometry. He also made me a present of ‘Gordon’s Geographical Grammar,’ which at that time was to me a great treasure. There is no figure of a globe in it, although it contains a tolerable description of the globes, and their use. From this description I made a globe in three weeks at my father’s, having turned the ball thereof out of a piece of wood, which ball I covered with paper, and delineated a map of the world upon it, made the meridian ring and horizon of wood, covered them with paper, and graduated them: and I was happy to find that by my globe, which was the first I ever saw, I could solve the problems. But this was not likely to afford me bread; and I could not think of staying with my father, who, I knew full well, could not maintain me in that way, as it could be of no service to him; and he had, without my assistance, hands sufficient for all his work.’
Thinking it would be a very easy matter to attend a mill, and that he would have plenty of leisure for study, poor Ferguson next engaged himself to a miller; but the fellow turned out to be a harsh, ignorant drunkard, who required every moment of the boy’s time, starving and ill-using him besides, so that at the end of a year he had to betake himself to the roof of his father. He next hired himself to a farmer; but here, again, he was worked beyond the strength of his naturally delicate constitution: illness ensued, and he had again to seek the paternal refuge. ‘In order to amuse myself in this low state, I made a wooden clock, the frame of which was also of wood; and it kept time pretty well. The bell on which the hammer struck the hours was the neck of a broken bottle. Having then no idea how any timekeeper could go but by a weight and a line, I wondered how a watch could go in all positions, and was sorry that I had never thought of asking Mr. Cantley, who could very easily have informed me. But happening one day to see a gentleman ride by my father’s house, which was close by a public road, I asked him what o’clock it then was; he looked at his watch, and told me. As he did that with so much good-nature, I begged of him to show me the inside of his watch; and though he was an entire stranger, he immediately opened the watch, and put it into my hands. I saw the spring-box with part of the chain round it, and asked him what it was that made the box turn round; he told me that it was turned round by a steel spring within it. Having then never seen any other spring than that of my father’s gun-lock, I asked how a spring within a box could turn the box so often round as to wind all the chain upon it. He answered that the spring was long and thin, that one end of it was fastened to the axis of the box, and the other end to the inside of the box; that the axis was fixed, and the box was loose upon it. I told him I did not yet thoroughly understand the matter. ‘Well my lad,’ says he, ‘take a long thin piece of whalebone, hold one end of it fast between your finger and thumb, and wind it round your finger, it will then endeavor to unwind itself; and if you fix the other end of it to the inside of a small hoop, and leave it to itself, it will turn the hoop round and round, and wind up a thread tied to the outside of the hoop.’ I thanked the gentleman, and told him I understood the thing very well. I then tried to make a watch with wooden wheels, and made the spring of whalebone; but found that I could not make the watch go when the balance was put on, because the teeth of the wheels were rather too weak to bear the force of a spring sufficient to move the balance, although the wheels would run fast enough when the balance was taken off. I enclosed the whole in a wooden case very little bigger than a breakfast teacup; but a clumsy neighbor one day looking at my watch, happened to let it fall, and turning hastily about to pick it up, set his foot upon it, and crushed it all to pieces; which so provoked my father, that he was almost ready to beat the man, and discouraged me so much, that I never attempted to make such another machine again, especially as I was thoroughly convinced I could never make one that would be of any real use.’