The Project Gutenberg EBook of Samuel F. B. Morse, His Letters and Journals by Samuel F. B. Morse This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: Samuel F. B. Morse, His Letters and Journals In Two Volumes, Volume I. Author: Samuel F. B. Morse Release Date: February 10, 2004 [EBook #11017] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAMUEL MORSE *** Produced by Carlo Traverso, Richard Prairie and PG Distributed Proofreaders. This file was produced from images generously made available by the Bibliotheque nationale de France (BnF/Gallica) at http://gallica.bnf.fr. SAMUEL F.B. MORSE HIS LETTERS AND JOURNALS IN TWO VOLUMES VOLUME I [Illustration: Samuel F.B. Morse] SAMUEL F.B. MORSE HIS LETTERS AND JOURNALS EDITED AND SUPPLEMENTED BY HIS SON EDWARD LIND MORSE ILLUSTRATED WITH REPRODUCTIONS OF HIS PAINTINGS AND WITH NOTES AND DIAGRAMS BEARING ON THE INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH VOLUME I 1914 TO MY WIFE WHOSE LOVING INTEREST AND APT CRITICISM HAVE BEEN TO ME OF GREAT VALUE I DEDICATE THIS WORK "It is the hour of fate, And those who follow me reach every state Mortals desire, and conquer every foe Save death. But they who doubt or hesitate-- Condemned to failure, penury and woe-- Seek me in vain and uselessly implore. I hear them not, and I return no more." Ingalls, _Opportunity_. PREFACE Arthur Christopher Benson, in the introduction to his studies in biography entitled "The Leaves of the Tree," says:-- "But when it comes to dealing with men who have played upon the whole a noble part in life, whose vision has been clear and whose heart has been wide, who have not merely followed their own personal ambitions, but have really desired to leave the world better and happier than they found it,--in such cases, indiscriminate praise is not only foolish and untruthful, it is positively harmful and noxious. What one desires to see in the lives of others is some sort of transformation, some evidence of patient struggling with faults, some hint of failings triumphed over, some gain of generosity and endurance and courage. To slur over the faults and failings of the great is not only inartistic: it is also faint-hearted and unjust. It alienates sympathy. It substitutes unreal adoration for wholesome admiration; it afflicts the reader, conscious of frailty and struggle, with a sense of hopeless despair in the presence of anything so supremely high-minded and flawless." The judgment of a son may, perhaps, be biased in favor of a beloved father; he may unconsciously "slur over the faults and failings," and lay emphasis only on the virtues. In selecting and putting together the letters, diaries, etc., of my father, Samuel F.B. Morse, I have tried to avoid that fault; my desire has been to present a true portrait of the man, with both lights and shadows duly emphasized; but I can say with perfect truth that I have found but little to deplore. He was human, he had his faults, and he made mistakes. While honestly differing from him on certain questions, I am yet convinced that, in all his beliefs, he was absolutely sincere, and the deeper I have delved into his correspondence, the more I have been impressed by the true nobility and greatness of the man. His fame is now secure, but, like all great men, he made enemies who pursued him with their calumnies even after his death; and others, perfectly honest and sincere, have questioned his right to be called the inventor of the telegraph. I have tried to give credit where credit is due with regard to certain points in the invention, but I have also given the documentary evidence, which I am confident will prove that he never claimed more than was his right. For many years after his invention was a proved success, almost to the day of his death, he was compelled to fight for his rights; but he was a good fighter, a skilled controversialist, and he has won out in the end. He was born and brought up in a deeply religious atmosphere, in a faith which seems to us of the present day as narrow; but, as will appear from his correspondence, he was perfectly sincere in his beliefs, and unfalteringly held himself to be an instrument divinely appointed to bestow a great blessing upon humanity. It seems not to be generally known that he was an artist of great ability, that for more than half his life he devoted himself to painting, and that he is ranked with the best of our earlier painters. In my selection of letters to be published I have tried to place much emphasis on this phase of his career, a most interesting one. I have found so many letters, diaries, and sketch-books of those earlier years, never before published, that seemed to me of great human interest, that I have ventured to let a large number of these documents chronicle the history of Morse the artist. Many of the letters here published have already appeared in Mr. S. Irenaeus Prime's biography of Morse, but others are now printed for the first time, and I have omitted many which Mr. Prime included. I must acknowledge my indebtedness to Mr. Prime for the possibility of filling in certain gaps in the correspondence; and for much interesting material not now otherwise obtainable. Before the telegraph had demonstrated its practical utility, its inventor was subjected to ridicule most galling to a sensitive nature, and after it was a proved success he was vilified by the enemies he was obliged to make on account of his own probity, and by the unscrupulous men who tried to rob him of the fruits of his genius; but in this he was only paying the penalty of greatness, and, as the perspective of time enables us to render a more impartial verdict, his character will be found to emerge triumphant. His versatility and abounding vitality were astounding. He would have been an eminent man in his day had he never invented the telegraph; but it is of absorbing interest, in following his career, to note how he was forced to give up one ambition after another, to suffer blow after blow which would have overwhelmed a man of less indomitable perseverance, until all his great energies were impelled into the one channel which ultimately led to undying fame. In every great achievement in the history of progress one man must stand preëminent, one name must symbolize to future generations the thing accomplished, whether it be the founding of an empire, the discovery of a new world, or the invention of a new and useful art; and this one man must be so endowed by nature as to be capable of carrying to a successful issue the great enterprise, be it what it may. He must, in short, be a man of destiny. That he should call to his assistance other men, that he should legitimately make use of the labors of others, in no wise detracts from his claims to greatness. It is futile to say that without this one or that one the enterprise would have been a failure; that without his officers and his men the general could not have waged a successful campaign. We must, in every great accomplishment which has influenced the history of the world, search out the master mind to whom, under Heaven, the epoch-making result is due, and him must we crown with the laurel wreath. Of nothing is this more true than of invention, for I venture to assert that no great invention has ever sprung Minerva-like from the brain of one man. It has been the culmination of the discoveries, the researches, yes, and the failures, of others, until the time was ripe and the destined man appeared. While due credit and all honor must be given to the other laborers in the field, the niche in the temple of fame must be reserved for the one man whose genius has combined all the known elements and added the connecting link to produce the great result. As an invention the telegraph was truly epoch-making. It came at a time when steam navigation on land and water was yet in its infancy, and it is idle to speculate on the slow progress which this would have made had it not been for the assistance of the electric spark. The science of electricity itself was but an academic curiosity, and it was not until the telegraph had demonstrated that this mysterious force could be harnessed to the use of man, that other men of genius arose to extend its usefulness in other directions; and this, in turn, stimulated invention in many other fields, and the end is not yet. It has been necessary, in selecting letters, to omit many fully as interesting as those which have been included; barely to touch on subjects of research, or of political and religious discussion, which are worthy of being pursued further, and to omit some subjects entirely. Very probably another more experienced hand would have made a better selection, but my aim has been to give, through characteristic letters and contemporary opinions, an accurate portrait of the man, and a succinct history of his life and labors. If I have succeeded in throwing a new light on some points which are still the subject of discussion, if I have been able to call attention to any facts which until now have been overlooked or unknown, I shall be satisfied. If I have been compelled to use very plain language with regard to some of those who were his open or secret enemies, or who have been posthumously glorified by others, I have done so with regret. Such as it is I send the book forth in the hope that it may add to the knowledge and appreciation of the character of one of the world's great men, and that it may, perhaps, be an inspiration to others who are striving, against great odds, to benefit their fellow men, or to those who are championing the cause of justice and truth. EDWARD LIND MORSE. CONTENTS CHAPTER I APRIL 27. 1791--SEPTEMBER 8, 1810 Birth of S.F.B. Morse.--His parents.--Letters of Dr. Belknap and Rev. Mr. Wells.--Phillips, Andover.--First letter.--Letter from his father.-- Religious letter from Morse to his brothers.--Letters from the mother to her sons.--Morse enters Yale.--His journey there.--Difficulty in keeping up with his class.--Letter of warning from his mother.--Letters of Jedediah Morse to Bishop of London and Lindley Murray.--Morse becomes more studious.--Bill of expenses.--Longing to travel and interest in electricity.--Philadelphia and New York.--Graduates from college.--Wishes to accompany Allston to England, but submits to parents' desires CHAPTER II OCTOBER 31, 1810--AUGUST 17, 1811 Enters bookshop as clerk.--Devotes leisure to painting.--Leaves shop.-- Letter to his brothers on appointments at Yale.--Letters from Joseph P. Rossiter.--Morse's first love affair.--Paints "Landing of the Pilgrims." --Prepares to sail with Allstons for England.--Letters of introduction from his father.--Disagreeable stage-ride to New York.--Sails on the Lydia.--Prosperous voyage.--Liverpool.--Trip to London.--Observations on people and customs.--Frequently cheated.--Critical time in England.--Dr. Lettsom.--Sheridan's verse.--Longing for a telegraph.--A ghost CHAPTER III AUGUST 24, 1811--DECEMBER 1, 1811 Benjamin West.--George III.--Morse begins his studies.--Introduced to West.--Enthusiasms.--Smuggling and lotteries.--English appreciation of art.--Copley.--Friendliness of West.--Elgin marbles.--Cries of London.-- Custom in knocking.--Witnesses balloon ascension.--Crowds.--Vauxhall Gardens.--St. Bartholomew's Fair.--Efforts to be economical.--Signs of war.--Mails delayed.--Admitted to Royal Academy.--Disturbances, riots, and murders CHAPTER IV JANUARY 18, 1812--AUGUST 6, 1812 Political opinions.--Charles R. Leslie's reminiscences of Morse, Allston, King, and Coleridge.--C.B. King's letter.--Sidney E. Morse's letter.-- Benjamin West's kindness.--Sir William Beechy.--Murders, robberies, etc. --Morse and Leslie paint each other's portraits.--The elder Morse's financial difficulties.--He deprecates the war talk.--The son differs from his father.--The Prince Regent.--Orders in Council.--Estimate of West.--Alarming state of affairs in England.--Assassination of Perceval, Prime Minister.--Execution of assassin.--Morse's love for his art.-- Stephen Van Rensselaer.--Leslie the friend and Allston the master.-- Afternoon tea.--The elder Morse well known in Europe.--Lord Castlereagh. --The Queen's drawing-room.--Kemble and Mrs. Siddons.--Zachary Macaulay. --Warning letter from his parents.--War declared.--Morse approves.-- Gratitude to his parents, and to Allston CHAPTER V SEPTEMBER 20, 1812--JUNE 13, 1813 Models the "Dying Hercules."--Dreams of greatness.--Again expresses gratitude to his parents.--Begins painting of "Dying Hercules."--Letter from Jeremiah Evarts.--Morse upholds righteousness of the war.--Henry Thornton.--Political discussions.--Gilbert Stuart.--William Wilberforce. --James Wynne's reminiscences of Morse, Coleridge, Leslie, Allston, and Dr. Abernethy.--Letters from his mother and brother.--Letters from friends on the state of the fine arts in America.--"The Dying Hercules" exhibited at the Royal Academy.--Expenses of painting.--Receives Adelphi Gold Medal for statuette of Hercules.--Mr. Dunlap's reminiscences.-- Critics praise "Dying Hercules" CHAPTER VI JULY 10, 1813--APRIL 6, 1814 Letter from the father on economies and political views.--Morse deprecates lack of spirit in New England and rejoices at Wellington's victories.--Allston's poems.--Morse coat-of-arms.--Letter of Joseph Hillhouse.--Letter of exhortation from his mother.--Morse wishes to stay longer in Europe.--Amused at mother's political views.--The father sends more money for a longer stay.--Sidney exalts poetry above painting.--His mother warns him against infidels and actors.--Bristol.--Optimism.-- Letter on infidels and his own religious observances.--Future of American art.--He is in good health, but thin.--Letter from Mr. Visger.--Benjamin Burritt, American prisoner.--Efforts in his behalf unsuccessful.--Capture of Paris by the Allies.--Again expresses gratitude to parents.--Writes a play for Charles Mathews.--Not produced CHAPTER VII MAY 2, 1814--OCTOBER 11, 1814 Allston writes encouragingly to the parents.--Morse unwilling to be mere portrait-painter.--Ambitious to stand at the head of his profession.-- Desires patronage, from wealthy friends.--Delay in the mails.--Account of _entrée_ of Louis XVIII into London.--The Prince Regent.--Indignation at acts of English.--His parents relieved at hearing from him after seven months' silence.--No hope of patronage from America.--His brothers.-- Account of fêtes.--Emperor Alexander, King of Prussia, Blücher, Platoff. --Wishes to go to Paris.--Letter from M. Van Schaick about battle of Lake Erie.--Disgusted with England CHAPTER VIII NOVEMBER 9, 1814--APRIL 23, 1815 Does not go to Paris.--Letter of admonition from his mother.--His parents' early economies.--Letter from Leslie.--Letter from Rev. S.F. Jarvis on politics.--The mother tells of the economies of another young American, Dr. Parkman.--The son resents constant exhortations to economize, and tells of meanness of Dr. Parkman.--Writes of his own economies and industry.--Disgusted with Bristol.--Prophesies peace between England and America.--Estimates of Morse's character by Dr. Romeyn and Mr. Van Schaick.--The father regrets reproof of son for political views.--Death of Mrs. Allston.--Disagreeable experience in Bristol.--More economies.--Napoleon I.--Peace CHAPTER IX MAY 8, 1815--OCTOBER 18, 1816 Decides to return home in the fall.--Hopes to return to Europe in a year.--Ambitions.--Paints "Judgment of Jupiter."--Not allowed to compete for premium.--Mr. Russell's portrait.--Reproof of his parents.--Battle of Waterloo.--Wilberforce.--Painting of "Dying Hercules" received by parents.--Much admired.--Sails for home.--Dreadful voyage lasting fifty-eight days.--Extracts from his journal.--Home at last CHAPTER X APRIL 10, 1816--OCTOBER 5, 1818 Very little success at home.--Portrait of ex-President John Adams.-- Letter to Allston on sale of his "Dead Man restored to Life."--Also apologizes for hasty temper.--Reassured by Allston.--Humorous letter from Leslie.--Goes to New Hampshire to paint portraits.--Concord.--Meets Miss Lucretia Walker.--Letters to his parents concerning her.--His parents reply.--Engaged to Miss Walker.--His parents approve.--Many portraits painted.--Miss Walker's parents consent.--Success in Portsmouth.--Morse and his brother invent a pump.--Highly endorsed by President Day and Eli Whitney.--Miss Walker visits Charlestown.--Morse's religious convictions.--More success in New Hampshire.--Winter in Charleston, South Carolina.--John A. Alston.--Success.--Returns north.--Letter from his uncle Dr. Finley.--Marriage CHAPTER XI NOVEMBER 19, 1818--MARCH 31, 1821 Morse and his wife go to Charleston, South Carolina.--Hospitably entertained and many portraits painted.--Congratulates Allston on his election to the Royal Academy.--Receives commission to paint President Monroe.--Trouble in the parish at Charlestown.--Morse urges his parents to leave and come to Charleston.--Letters of John A. Alston.--Return to the North.--Birth of his first child.--Dr. Morse and his family decide to move to New Haven.--Morse goes to Washington.--Paints the President under difficulties.--Hospitalities.--Death of his grandfather.--Dr. Morse appointed Indian Commissioner.--Marriage of Morse's future mother-in-law. --Charleston again.--Continued success.--Letters to Mrs. Ball.-- Liberality of Mr. Alston.--Spends the summer in New Haven.--Returns to Charleston, but meets with poor success.--Assists in founding Academy of Arts, which has but a short life.--Goes North again CHAPTER XII MAY 23, 1821--DECEMBER 17, 1824 Accompanies Mr. Silliman to the Berkshires.--Takes his wife and daughter to Concord, New Hampshire.--Writes to his wife from Boston about a bonnet.--Goes to Washington, D.C.--Paints large picture of House of Representatives.--Artistic but not financial success.--Donates five hundred dollars to Yale.--Letter from Mr. De Forest.--New York "Observer."--Discouragements.--First son born.--Invents marble-carving machine.--Goes to Albany.--Stephen Van Rensselaer.--Slight encouragement in Albany.--Longing for a home.--Goes to New York.--Portrait of Chancellor Kent.--Appointed attaché to Legation to Mexico.--High hopes.-- Takes affecting leave of his family.--Rough journey to Washington.-- Expedition to Mexico indefinitely postponed.--Returns North.--Settles in New York.--Fairly prosperous CHAPTER XIII JANUARY 4, 1825--NOVEMBER 18, 1825 Success in New York.--Chosen to paint portrait of Lafayette.--Hope of a permanent home with his family.--Meets Lafayette in Washington.--Mutually attracted.--Attends President's levee.--Begins portrait of Lafayette.-- Death of his wife.--Crushed by the news.--His attachment to her.--Epitaph composed by Benjamin Silliman.--Bravely takes up his work again.-- Finishes portrait of Lafayette.--Describes it in letter of a later date. --Sonnet on death of Lafayette's dog.--Rents a house in Canal Street, New York.--One of the founders of National Academy of Design.--Tactful resolutions on organization.--First thirty members.--Morse elected first president.--Reëlected every year until 1845.--Again made president in 1861.--Lectures on Art.--Popularity CHAPTER XIV JANUARY 1, 1826--DECEMBER 5, 1829 Success of his lectures, the first of the kind in the United States.-- Difficulties of his position as leader.--Still longing for a home.--Very busy but in good health.--Death of his father.--Estimates of Dr. Morse.-- Letters to his mother.--Wishes to go to Europe again.--Delivers address at first anniversary of National Academy of Design.--Professor Dana lectures on electricity.--Morse's study of the subject.--Moves to No. 13 Murray Street.--Too busy to visit his family.--Death of his mother.--A remarkable woman.--Goes to central New York.--A serious accident.--Moral reflections.--Prepares to go to Europe.--Letter of John A. Dix.--Sails for Liverpool.--Rough voyage.--Liverpool CHAPTER XV DECEMBER 6. 1829--FEBRUARY 6, 1830 Journey from Liverpool to London by coach.--Neatness of the cottages.-- Trentham Hall.--Stratford-on-Avon.--Oxford.--London.--Charles R. Leslie. --Samuel Rogers.--Seated with Academicians at Royal Academy lecture.-- Washington Irving.--Turner.--Leaves London for Dover.--Canterbury Cathedral.--Detained at Dover by bad weather.--Incident of a former visit.--Channel steamer.--Boulogne-sur-Mer.--First impressions of France.--Paris.--The Louvre.--Lafayette.--Cold in Paris.--Continental Sunday.--Leaves Paris for Marseilles in diligence.--Intense cold.-- Dijon.--French funeral.--Lyons.--The Hôtel Dieu.--Avignon.--Catholic church services.--Marseilles.--Toulon.--The navy yard and the galley slaves.--Disagreeable experience at an inn.--The Riviera.--Genoa CHAPTER XVI FEBRUARY 6, 1830--JUNE 15, 1830 Serra Palace in Genoa.--Starts for Rome.--Rain in the mountains.--A brigand.--Carrara.--First mention of a railroad.--Pisa.--The leaning tower.--Rome at last.--Begins copying at once.--Notebooks.--Ceremonies at the Vatican.--Pope Pius VIII.--Academy of St. Luke's.--St. Peter's.-- Chiesa Nuova.--Painting at the Vatican.--Beggar monks.--_Festa_ of the Annunciation.--Soirée at Palazzo Sunbaldi.--Passion Sunday.--Horace Vernet.--Lying in state of a cardinal.--_Miserere_ at Sistine Chapel.-- Holy Thursday at St. Peter's.--Third cardinal dies.--Meets Thorwaldsen at Signor Persianis's.--Manners of English, French, and Americans.--Landi's pictures.--Funeral of a young girl.--Trip to Tivoli, Subiaco.--Procession of the _Corpus Domini_.--Disagreeable experience CHAPTER XVII JUNE 17, 1830--FEBRUARY 2, 1831 Working hard.--Trip to Genzano.--Lake of Nemi.--Beggars.--Curious festival of flowers at Genzano.--Night on the Campagna.--Heat in Rome.-- Illumination of St. Peter's.--St. Peter's Day.--Vaults of the Church.-- Feebleness of Pope.--Morse and companions visit Naples, Capri, and Amalfi.--Charms of Amalfi.--Terrible accident.--Flippancy at funerals.-- Campo Santo at Naples.--Gruesome conditions.--Ubiquity of beggars.-- Convent of St. Martino.--Masterpiece of Spagnoletto.--Returns to Rome.-- Paints portrait of Thorwaldsen.--Presented to him in after years by John Taylor Johnston.--Given to King of Denmark.--Reflections on the social evil and the theatre.--Death of the Pope.--An assassination.--The Honorable Mr. Spencer and Catholicism.--Election of Pope Gregory XVI CHAPTER XVIII FEBRUARY 10, 1831--SEPTEMBER 12, 1831 Historic events witnessed by Morse.--Rumors of revolution.--Danger to foreigners.--Coronation of the new Pope.--Pleasant experience.--Cause of the revolution a mystery.--Bloody plot foiled.--Plans to leave for Florence.--Sends casts, etc., to National Academy of Design.--Leaves Rome.--Dangers of the journey.--Florence.--Description of meeting Prince Radziwill in Coliseum at Rome.--Copies portraits of Rubens and Titian in Florence.--Leaves Florence for Venice.--Disagreeable voyage on the Po.-- Venice, beautiful but smelly.--Copies Tintoret's "Miracle of the Slave." --Thunderstorms.--Reflections on the Fourth of July.--Leaves Venice.-- Recoaro.--Milan.--Reflections on Catholicism and art.--Como and Maggiore.--The Rigi.--Schaffhausen and Heidelberg.--Evades the quarantine on French border.--Thrilling experience.--Paris CHAPTER XIX SEPTEMBER 18, 1831--SEPTEMBER 21, 1832 Takes rooms with Horatio Greenough.--Political talk with Lafayette.-- Riots in Paris.--Letters from Greenough.--Bunker Hill Monument.--Letters from Fenimore Cooper.--Cooper's portrait by Verboeckhoven.--European criticisms.--Reminiscences of R.W. Habersham.--Hints of an electric telegraph.--Not remembered by Morse.--Early experiments in photography.-- Painting of the Louvre.--Cholera in Paris.--Baron von Humboldt.--Morse presides at Fourth of July dinner.--Proposes toast to Lafayette.--Letter to New York "Observer" on Fenimore Cooper.--Also on pride in American citizenship.--Works with Lafayette in behalf of Poles.--Letter from Lafayette.--Morse visits London before sailing for home.--Sits to Leslie for head of Sterne CHAPTER XX Morse's life almost equally divided into two periods, artistic and scientific.--Estimate of his artistic ability by Daniel Huntington.--Also by Samuel Isham.--His character as revealed by his letters, notes, etc.-- End of Volume I ILLUSTRATIONS MORSE THE ARTIST (Photogravure) Painted by himself in London about 1814. HOUSE IN WHICH MORSE WAS BORN, IN CHARLESTOWN, MASS. REV. JEDEDIAH MORSE AND S. F. B. MORSE--ELIZABETH ANN MORSE AND SIDNEY E. MORSE From portraits by a Mr. Sargent, who also painted portraits of the Washington family. THE DYING HERCULES Painted by Morse in 1813. LETTER OF MORSE TO HIS PARENTS, OCTOBER 18, 1815. MR. D. C. DE FOREST--MRS. D. C. DE FOREST From paintings by Morse now in the gallery of the Yale School of the Fine Arts. LUCRETIA PICKERING WALKER, WIFE or S. F. B. MORSE, AND TWO CHILDREN Painted by Morse. STUDY FOR PORTRAIT OF LAFAYETTE Now in New York Public Library. ELIZABETH A. MORSE Painted by Morse. JEREMIAH EVARTS From a portrait painted by Morse and owned by Sherman Evarts, Esq. DE WITT CLINTON Painted by Morse. Owned by the Metropolitan Museum, New York. HENRY CLAY Painted by Morse. Owned by the Metropolitan Museum, New York. SUSAN W. MORSE. ELDEST DAUGHTER OF THE ARTIST SAMUEL F.B. MORSE HIS LETTERS AND JOURNALS CHAPTER I APRIL 27. 1791--SEPTEMBER 8, 1810 Birth of S.F.B. Morse.--His parents.--Letters of Dr. Belknap and Rev. Mr. Wells.--Phillips, Andover.--First letter.--Letter from his father.-- Religious letter from Morse to his brothers.--Letters from the mother to her sons.--Morse enters Yale.--His journey there.--Difficulty in keeping up with his class.--Letter of warning from his mother.--Letters of Jedediah Morse to Bishop of London and Lindley Murray.--Morse becomes more studious.--Bill of expenses.--Longing to travel and interest in electricity.--Philadelphia and New York.--Graduates from college.--Wishes to accompany Allston to England, but submits to parents' desires. Samuel Finley Breese Morse was born in Charlestown, Massachusetts, on the 27th day of April, A.D. 1791. He came of good Puritan stock, his father, Jedediah Morse, being a militant clergyman of the Congregational Church, a fighter for orthodoxy at a time when Unitarianism was beginning to undermine the foundations of the old, austere, childlike faith. These battles of the churches seem far away to us of the twentieth century, but they were very real to the warriors of those days, and, while many of the tenets of their faith may seem narrow to us, they were gospel to the godly of that tune, and reverence, obedience, filial piety, and courtesy were the rule and not the exception that they are to-day. Jedediah Morse was a man of note in his day, known and respected at home and abroad; the friend of General Washington and other founders of the Republic; the author of the first American Geography and Gazetteer. His wife, Elizabeth Ann Breese, granddaughter of Samuel Finley, president of Princeton College, was a woman of great strength and yet sweetness of character; adored by her family and friends, a veritable mother in Israel. Into this serene home atmosphere came young Finley Morse, the eldest of eleven children, only three of whom survived their infancy. The other two were Sidney Edwards and Richard Carey, both eminent men in their day. Dr. Belknap, of Boston, in a letter to a friend in New York says:-- "Congratulate the Monmouth Judge [Mr. Breese] on the birth of a grandson.... As to the child, I saw him asleep, so can say nothing of his eye or his genius peeing through it. He may have the sagacity of a Jewish rabbi, or the profundity of a Calvin, or the sublimity of a Homer for aught I know. But time will show forth all things." This sounds almost prophetic in the light of future days. [Illustration: HOUSE IN WHICH MORSE WAS BORN, IN CHARLESTOWN, MASS.] The following letter from the Reverend Mr. Wells is quaint and characteristic of the times:-- MY DEAR LITTLE BOY,--As a small testimony of my respect and obligation to your excellent Parents and of my love to you, I send you with this six (6) English Guineas. They are pretty playthings enough, and in the Country I came from many people are fond of them. Your Papa will let you look at them and shew them to Edward, and then he will take care of them, and, by the time you grow up to be a Man, they will under Papa's wise management increase to double their present number. With wishing you may never be in want of such playthings and yet never too fond of them, I remain your affectionate friend, WM. WELLS. MEDFORD, July 2, 1793. Young Morse was sent away early to boarding-school, as was the custom at that time. He was taken by his father to Phillips Academy at Andover, and I believe he ran away once, being overcome by homesickness before he made up his mind to remain and study hard. The following letter is the first one written by him of which I have any knowledge:-- ANDOVER, 2d August, 1799. DEAR PAPA,--I hope you are well I will thank you if you will Send me up Some quils Give my love to mama and NANCY and my little brothers pleas to kis them for me and send me up Some very good paper to write to you I have as many blackberries as I want I go and pick them myself. SAMUEL FINLEY BREESE MORSE YOUR SON 1799. This from his father is characteristic of many written to him and to his brothers while they were at school and college:-- CHARLESTOWN, February 21, 1801. MY DEAR SON,--You do not write me as often as you ought. In your next you must assign some reason for this neglect. Possibly I have not received all your letters. Nothing will improve you so much in epistolary writing as practice. Take great pains with your letters. Avoid vulgar phrases. Study to have your ideas pertinent and correct and clothe them in an easy and grammatical dress. Pay attention to your spelling, pointing, the use of capitals, and to your handwriting. After a little practice these things will become natural and you will thus acquire a habit of writing correctly and well. General Washington was a remarkable instance of what I have now recommended to you. His letters are a perfect model for epistolary writers. They are written with great uniformity in respect to the handwriting and disposition of the several parts of the letter. I will show you some of his letters when I have the pleasure of seeing you next vacation, and when I shall expect to find you much improved. Your natural disposition, my dear son, renders it proper for me earnestly to recommend to you to _attend to one thing at a time_. It is impossible that you can do two things well at the same time, and I would, therefore, never have you attempt it. Never undertake to do what ought not to be done, and then, whatever you undertake, endeavor to do it in the best manner. It is said of De Witt, a celebrated statesman in Holland, who was torn to pieces in the year 1672, that he did the whole business of the republic and yet had time left to go to assemblies in the evening and sup in company. Being asked how he could possibly find time to go through so much business and yet amuse himself in the evenings as he did, he answered there was nothing so easy, for that it was only doing one thing at a time, and never putting off anything till to-morrow that could be done to-day. This steady and undissipated attention to one object is a sure mark of a superior genius, as hurry, bustle, and agitation are the never-failing symptoms of a weak and frivolous mind. I expect you will read this letter over several times that you may retain its contents in your memory, and give me your own opinion on the advice I have given you. If you improve this well, I shall be encouraged to give you more as you may need it. Your affectionate parent, J. MORSE. This was written to a boy ten years old. I wonder if he was really able to assimilate it. I shall pass rapidly over the next few years, for, while there are many letters which make interesting reading, there are so many more of the later years of greater historical value that I must not yield to the temptation to linger. The three brothers were all sent to Phillips Academy to prepare for Yale, from which college their father was also graduated. The following letter from Finley to his brothers was written while he was temporarily at home, and shows the deep religious bent of his mind which he kept through life:-- CHARLESTOWN, March 15, 1805. MY DEAR BROTHERS,--I now write you again to inform you that mama had a baby, but it was born dead and has just been buried. Now you have three brothers and three sisters in heaven and I hope you and I will meet them there at our death. It is uncertain when we shall die, but we ought to be prepared for it, and I hope you and I shall. I read a question in Davie's "Sermons" the last Sunday which was this:-- Suppose a bird should take one dust of this earth and carry it away once in a thousand years, and you was to take your choice either to be miserable in that time and happy hereafter, or happy in that time and miserable hereafter, which would you choose? Write me an answer to this in your next letter.... I enclose you a little book called the "Christian Pilgrim." It is for both of you. We are all tolerable well except mama, though she is more comfortable now than she was. We all send a great deal of love to you. I must now bid you adieu. I remain your affectionate brother, S.F.B. MORSE. I am tempted to include the following extracts from letters of the good mother of the three boys as characteristic of the times and people:-- CHARLESTOWN, June 28, 1805. MY DEAR SON,--We have the pleasure of a letter from you which has gratified us very much. It is the only intelligence we have had from you since Mr. Brown left you. I began to think that something was the matter with respect to your health that occasioned your long silence.... We are very desirous, my son, that you should excel in everything that will make you truly happy and useful to your fellow men. In particular by no means neglect your duty to your Heavenly Father. Remember, what has been said with great truth, that he can never be faithful to others who is not so to his God and his conscience. I wish you constantly to keep in mind the first question and answer in that excellent form of sound words, the Assembly Catechism, viz:--"What is the chief end of Man?" The answer you will readily recollect is "To Glorify God and enjoy Him forever." Let it be evident, my dear son, that this be your chief aim in all that you do, and may you be so happy as to enjoy Him forever is the sincere prayer of your affectionate parent.... The Fourth of July is to be celebrated here with a good deal of parade both by Federalists and Jacobins. The former are to meet in our meeting-house, there to hear an oration which is to be delivered by Mr. Aaron Putnam, a prayer by your papa also. And on the hill close by the monument [Bunker Hill] a standard is to be presented to a new company called the Warren Phalanx, all Federalists, by Dr. Putnam who is the president of the day, and all the gentlemen are to dine at Seton's Hall, otherwise called Massachusetts Hall, and the ladies are to take tea at the same place. The Jacobins are to have an oration at the Baptist meeting-house from Mr. Gleson. I know nothing more about them. The boys are forming themselves into companies also; they have two or three companies and drums which at some times are enough to craze one. I can't help thinking when I see them how glad I am that my sons are better employed at Andover than beating the streets or drums; that they are laying in a good store of useful knowledge against the time to come, while these poor boys, many of them, at least, are learning what they will be glad by and by to unlearn. July 30, 1805. MY DEAR SONS,--Have you heard of the death of young Willard at Cambridge, the late President Willard's son? He died of a violent fever occasioned by going into water when he was very hot in the middle of the day. He also pumped a great deal of cold water on his head. Let this be a warning to you all not to be guilty of the like indiscretion which may cost you your life. Dreadful, indeed, would this be to all of us. I wish you would not go into water oftener than once a week, and then either early in the morning or late in the afternoon, and not go in when hot nor stay long in the water. Remember these cautions of your mama and obey them strictly. A young lady twenty years old died in Boston yesterday very suddenly. She eat her dinner perfectly well and was dead in five minutes after. Her name was Ann Hinkley. You see, my dear boys, the great uncertainty of life and, of course, the importance of being always prepared for _death_, even a _sudden death_, as we know not what an hour may bring forth. This we are sensible of, we cannot be _too soon or too well_ prepared for that all-important moment, as this is what we are sent into this world for. The main business of life is to prepare for death. Let us not, then, put off these most important concerns to an uncertain to-morrow, but let us in earnest attend to the concerns of our precious, never-dying souls while we feel ourselves alive. In October, 1805, Finley Morse went to New Haven to enter college, and the next letter describes the journey from Charlestown, and it was, indeed, a journey in those days. NEW HAVEN, October 22, 1805. MY DEAR PARENTS,--I arrived here yesterday safe and well. The first day I rode as far as Williams' Tavern, and put up there for the night. The next day I rode as far as Dwight's Tavern in Western, and in the morning, it being rainy, Mr. Backus did not set out to ride till late, and, the stage coming to the door, Mr. B. thought it a good opportunity to send me to Hartford, which he did, and I arrived at Hartford that night and lodged at Ripley's inn opposite the State House. He treated me very kindly, indeed, wholly on account of my being your son. I was treated more like his own son than a stranger, for which I shall and ought to be very much obliged to him. The next morning I hired a horse and chaise of him to carry me to Weathersfield and arrived at Mr. Marsh's, who was very glad to see me and begged me to stay till S. Barrell went, which was the next Monday, for his mother would not let him go so soon, she was so glad to see him. I was sorry to trouble them so much, but, as they desired it, and, as Samuel B. was not to go till then, I agreed to stay and hope you will not disapprove it, and am sorry I could not write you sooner to relieve your minds from your anxiety on my account, and am sorry for giving my good parents so much trouble and expense. You expend and have expended a great deal more money upon me than I deserve, and granted me a great many of my requests, and I am sure I can certainly grant you one, that of being _economical_, which I shall certainly be and not get money to buy trifling things. I begin to think _money_ of some importance and too great value to be thrown away. Yesterday morning about ten o'clock I set out for New Haven with S. Barrell and arrived well a little before dark. I went directly to Dr. Dwight's, which I easily found, and delivered the letter to him, drank tea at his house, and then Mr. Sereno Dwight carried me to Mr. Davis's who had agreed to take me. While I was at Dr. Dwight's there was a woman there whom the Dr. recommended to Sam. B. and me to have our mending done, and Mrs. Davis or a washerwoman across the way will do my washing, so I am very agreeably situated. I also gave the letter to Mr. Beers and he has agreed to let me have what you desired. I have got Homer's Iliad in two volumes, with Latin translation of him, for $3.25. I need no other books at present. S. Barrell has a room in the north college and, as he says, a very agreeable chum. Next spring I hope you will come on and fix matters. I long to get into the college, for it appears to me now as though I was not a member of college but fitting for college. I hope next spring will soon come. My whole journey from Charlestown here cost me £2 16_s._, and 4_d._, a great deal more than either you or I had calculated on. I am sorry to be of so much trouble to you and the cause of so much anxiety in you and especially in mama. I wish you to give my very affectionate love to my dear brothers, and tell them they must write me and not be homesick, but consider that I am farther from home than they are, 136 miles from home. I remain Your ever affectionate son, S.F.B. MORSE. It would seem, from other letters which follow, that he had difficulty in keeping up with his class, and that he eventually dropped a class, for he did not graduate until 1810. He also seems to have been rooming outside of college and to have been eager to go in. It is curious, in the light of future events, to note that young Morse's parents were fearful lest his volatile nature and lack of steadfastness of purpose should mar his future career. His dominating characteristic in later life was a bulldog tenacity, which led him to stick to one idea through discouragements and disappointments which would have overwhelmed a weaker nature. The following extracts are from a long letter from his mother dated November 23, 1805:-- "I am fearful, my son, that you think a great deal more of your amusements than your studies, and there lies the difficulty, and the same difficulty would exist were you in college. "You have filled your letter with requests to go into college and an account of a gunning party, both of which have given us pain. I am truly sorry that you appear so unsteady as by _your own account_ you are.... "You mention in the letter you wrote first that, if you went into college, you and your chum would want brandy and wine and segars in your room. Pray is that the custom among the students? We think it a very improper one, indeed, and hope the government of college will not permit it. There is no propriety at all in such young boys as you having anything to do with anything of the kind, and your papa and myself positively prohibit you the use of these things till we think them more necessary than we do at present.... "You will remember that you have promised in your first letter to be an economist. In your last letter you seem to have forgotten all about it. Pray, what do your gunning parties cost you for powder and shot? I beg you to consider and not go driving on from one foolish whim to another till you provoke us to withdraw from you the means of gratifying you in anything that may be even less objectionable than gunning." These exhortations seem to have had, temporarily, at least, the desired effect, for in a letter to his parents dated December 18, 1805, young Morse says: "I shall not go out to gun any more, for I know it makes you anxious about me." The letters of the parents to the son are full of pious exhortations, and good advice, and reproaches to the boy for not writing oftener and more at length, and for not answering every question asked by the parents. It is comforting to the present-day parent to learn that human nature was much the same in those pious days of old, differing only in degree, and that there is hope for the most wayward son and careless correspondent. The following letters from the elder Morse I shall include as being of rather more than ordinary interest, and as showing the breadth of his activity. CHARLESTOWN, December 23, 1806. To THE BISHOP OP LONDON, REV'D AND RESPECTED SIR,--I presume that it might be agreeable to you to know the precise state of the property which originally belonged to the Protestant Episcopal Church in Virginia. I have with some pains obtained the law of that State respecting this singular business. I find that it destroys _the establishment_ and asserts that "all property belonging to the said (Protestant Episcopal) Church devolved on the good people of this Commonwealth (i.e., Virginia) on the dissolution of the British Government here, in the same degree in which the right and interest of the said Church was therein derived from them," and authorizes the overseers of the poor of any county "in which any glebe land is vacant, or shall become so by the death or removal of any incumbent, to sell all such land and appurtenances and every other species of property incident thereto to the highest bidder"--"Provided that nothing herein contained shall authorize an appropriation to _any religious purpose whatever_." I make no comments on the above. I believe no other State in the Union has, in this respect, imitated the example of Virginia. I take the liberty to send you a few small tracts for your acceptance in token of my high respect for your character and services. Believe me, sir, unfeignedly, Your obedient servant, J. MORSE. December 26, 1806. LINDLEY MURRAY ESQ., DEAR SIR,--Your polite note and the valuable books accompanying it, forwarded by our friend Perkins, of New York, have been duly and gratefully received. You will perceive, by the number of the "Panoplist" enclosed, that we are strangers neither to your works nor your character. It has given me much pleasure as an American to make both more extensively known among my countrymen. I have purchased several hundred of your spelling books for a charitable society to which I belong, and they have been dispersed in the new settlements in our country, where I hope they will do immediate good, besides creating a desire and demand for more. It will ever give me pleasure to hear from you when convenient. Letters left at Mr. Taylor's will find me. I herewith send you two or three pamphlets and a copy of the last edition of my "American Gazetteer" which I pray you to accept as a small token of the high respect and esteem with which I am Your friend, J. MORSE. Young Morse now settled down to serious work as the following extracts will show, which I set down without further comment, passing rapidly over the next few years. He was, however, not entirely absorbed in his books but still longed for the pleasures of the chase:-- "May 13, 1807. Just now I asked Mr. Twining to let me go a-gunning for this afternoon. He told me you had expressly forbidden it and he therefore could not. Now I should wish to go once in a while, for I always intend to be careful. I have no amusement now in the vacation, and it would gratify me very much if you would consent to let me go once in a while. I suppose you would tell me that my books ought to be my amusement. I cannot study all the time and I need some exercise. If I walk, that is no amusement, and if I wish to play ball or anything else, I have no one to play with. Please to write me an answer as soon as" possible. June 7, 1807. MY DEAR PARENTS,--I hope you will excuse my not writing you sooner when I inform you that my time is entirely taken up with my studies. In the morning I must rise at five o'clock to attend prayers and, immediately after, recitation; then I must breakfast and begin to study from eight o'clock till eleven; then recite my forenoon's lesson which takes me an hour. At twelve I must study French till one, which is dinner-time. Directly after dinner I must recite French to Monsieur Value till two o'clock, then begin to study my afternoon lesson and recite it at five. Immediately after recitation I must study another French lesson to recite at seven in the evening; come home at nine o'clock and study my morning's lesson until ten, eleven, and sometimes twelve o'clock, and by that tine I am prepared to sleep.... You see now I have enough to do, my hands as full as can be, not five minutes' time to take recreation. I am determined to study and, thus far, have not missed a single word. The students call me by the nickname of "Geography." "_June 18, 1807._ Last week I went to Mr. Beers and saw a set of Montaigne's 'Essays' in French in eight volumes, duodecimo, handsomely bound in calf and gilt, for two dollars. The reason they are so cheap is because they are wicked and bad books for me or anybody else to read. I got them because they were cheap, and have exchanged them for a handsome English edition of 'Gil Blas'; price, $4.50." In the fall of 1807 Finley Morse returned to college accompanied by his next younger brother, Sidney Edwards. In a letter of March 6, 1808, he says: "Edwards and myself are very well and I believe we are doing well, but you will learn more of that from our instructors." In this same letter he says:-- "I find it impossible to live in college without spending money. At one time a letter is to be paid for, then comes up a great tax from the class or society, which keeps me constantly running after money. When I have money in my hand I feel as though I had stolen it, and it is with the greatest pain that I part with it. I think every minute I shall receive a letter from home blaming me for not being more economical, and thus I am kept in distress all the time. "The amount of my expenses for the last term was fifteen dollars, expended in the following manner:-- Dols. Cts. "Postage $2.05 Oil .50 Taxes, fines, etc. 3.00 Oysters .50 Washbowl .37-1/2 Skillet .33 Axe $1.33 Catalogues .12 1.45 Powder and shot 1.12-1/2 Cakes, etc. etc. etc. 1.75 Wine, Thanks. day .20 Toll on bridge .15 Grinding axe .08 Museum .25 Poor man .14 Carriage for trunk 1.00 Pitcher .41 14.75-1/2 Sharpening skates .37-1/2 Paid for Circ. Library .25 cutting wood .25 Post papers .57 Lent never to be returned .25 $14.75-1/2 15.00-1/2 "In my expenses I do not include my wood, tuition bills, board or washing bills." How characteristic of all boys of all times the "etc., etc., etc.," tacked on to the "cakes" item, and how many boys of the present day would bewail the extravagance of fifteen dollars spent in one term on extras? In a postscript in this same letter he says: "The students are very fond of raising balloons at present. I will (with your leave) when I return home make one. They are pleasant sights." College terms were very different in those days from what they are at present, for September 5 finds the boys still in New Haven, and Finley says, "There is but three and a half weeks to Commencement." In this same letter he gives utterance to these filial sentiments: "I now make those only my companions who are the most religious and moral, and I hope sincerely that it will have a good effect in changing that thoughtless disposition which has ever been a striking trait in my character. As I grow older, I begin to think better of what you have always told me when I was small. I begin to know by experience that man is born to trouble, and that temptations to do evil are as countless as the stars, but I hope I shall be enabled to shun them." This is from a letter of January 9, 1809:-- "I have been reading the first volume of Professor Silliman's 'Journal' which he kept during his passage to and residence in Europe. I am very much pleased with it. I long for the time when I shall be able to travel with improvement to myself and society, and hope it will be in your power to assist me. "I have a very ardent desire of travelling, but I consider that an education is indispensable to me and I mean to apply myself with all diligence for that purpose. _Diligentia vinrit omnia_ is my maxim and I shall endeavor to follow it.... I shall be employed in the vacation in the Philosophical Chamber with Mr. Dwight, who is going to perform a number of experiments in _Electricity_." It is, of course, only a curious coincidence that these two sentences should have occurred in the same letter, but it was when travelling, many years afterwards, that the first idea of the electric telegraph found lodgment in his brain, and this certainly resulted in improvement to himself and society. In February, 1809, he writes: "My studies are at present Optics in Philosophy, Dialling, Homer, beside disputing, composing, attending lectures etc. etc., all which I find very interesting and especially Mr. Day's lectures who is now lecturing on _Electricity_." Young Morse's thoughts seem to have been gradually focusing on the two subjects to which he afterwards devoted his life, for in a letter of March 8, 1809, he says: "Mr. Day's lectures are very interesting. They are upon Electricity. He has given us some very fine experiments. The whole class taking hold of hands formed the circuit of communication and we all received the shock apparently at the same moment. I never took an electric shock before. It felt as if some person had struck me a slight blow across the arms.... I think with pleasure that two thirds of this term only remain. As soon as that is passed away, I hope I shall again see home. I really long to see Charlestown again; I have almost forgotten how it looks. I have some thoughts of taking a view of Boston from Bunker's Hill when I go home again. It will be some pleasure to me to have some picture of my native place to look upon when I am from home." And in August, 1809, he writes to his parents: "I employ all my leisure time in painting. I have a great number of persons engaged already to be drawn on ivory, no less than seven. They obtain the ivories for themselves. I have taken Professor Kingsley's profile for him. It is a good likeness of him and he is pleased with it. I think I shall take his likeness on ivory and present it to him as my present at the end of the year.... I have finished Miss Leffingwell's miniature. It is a good likeness and she is very much pleased with it." NEW HAVEN, May 29, 1810. MY DEAR PARENTS,--I arrived in this place on Sabbath evening by packet from New York. I left Philadelphia on Thursday morning at eight o'clock and arrived in New York on Friday at ten.... I stayed in New York but one night. I found it quite insipid after seeing Philadelphia. [The character of the two cities seems to have changed a trifle in a hundred years, for, with all her faults, no one could nowadays accuse New York of being insipid.] I went on board the packet on Saturday at twelve o'clock and arrived, as I before stated, on Sabbath evening. We had, on the whole, a very good set of passengers from New York to this place. On Sunday we had two sermons read to us by one of them, Dr. Hawley, of this place, and in the evening we sang five psalms, and during the whole of the exercises the passengers conducted themselves with perfect decorum, although one of the sermons was one hour in length.... June 25, 1810. MY DEAR PARENTS,--I received yours of the 23d this day and receive with humility your reproof. I am extremely sorry it should have occasioned so many disagreeable feelings. I felt it my duty to tell you of my debts, and, indeed, I could not feel easy without. The amount of my buttery bill is forty-two or forty-three dollars. Mr. Nettleton is butler and is willing I should take his likeness as part pay. I shall take it on ivory, and he has engaged to allow me seven dollars for it. My price is five dollars for a miniature on ivory, and. I have engaged three or four at that price. My price for profiles is one dollar, and everybody is ready to engage me at that price.... Though I have been much to blame in the present case, yet I think it but just that Mr. Twining should bear his part. I had begun with a determination to pay for everything as I got it, but was stopped in this in the very beginning, for, in going to Mr. T. to get money, I have five times out of six found him absent, sometimes for the whole day, sometimes for a week or two weeks, and once he was absent six weeks and made no sort of provision for us. Mrs. T. is never trusted with money for us. Now in such case I am obliged by necessity to get a thing charged, and I have found by sad experience that a bill increases faster than I had in the least imagined.... "_July 22, 1810._ I am now released from college and am attending to painting. All my class were accepted as candidates for degrees. Edwards is admitted a member of [Greek: Phi][Greek: Beta][Greek: Kappa] Society, and is appointed as monitor to the next Freshman Class. Richard is chosen as one of the speakers the evening before Commencement. "Edwards and Richard are both of them very steady and good scholars, and are much esteemed by the authority of college as well as their fellow students. "As to my choice of a profession, I still think that I was made for a painter, and I would be obliged to you to make such arrangement with Mr. Allston for my studying with him as you shall think expedient. I should desire to study with him during the winter, and, as he expects to return to England in the spring, I should admire to be able to go with him." In answer to this letter his father wrote:-- CHARLESTOWN, July 26, 1810. DEAR Finley,--I received your letter of the 22d to-day by mail. On the subject of your future pursuits we will converse when I see you and when you get home. It will be best for you to form no plans. Your mama and I have been thinking and planning for you. I shall disclose to you our plan when I see you. Till then suspend your mind. It gives us great pleasure to have you speak so well of your brothers. Others do the same and we hear well of you also. It is a great comfort to us that our sons are all likely to do so well and are in good reputation among their acquaintances. Could we have reason to believe you were all pious and had chosen the "good part," our joy concerning you all would be full. I hope the Lord in due time will grant us this pleasure. "Seek the Lord," my dear son, "while he may be found." Your affectionate father, J. MORSE. [ILLUSTRATION: ELIZABETH ANN MORSE AND SIDNEY E. MORSE ILLUSTRATION: REV. JEDEDIAH MORSE AND S.F.B. MORSE From portraits by a Mr. Sargent, who also painted portraits of the Washington family] September 8, 1810. DEAR MAMA,--Papa arrived here safely this evening and I need not tell you we were glad to see him. He has mentioned to me the plan which he proposed for my future business in life, and I am pleased with it, for I was determined beforehand to conform to his and your will in everything, and, when I come home, I shall endeavor to make amends for the trouble and anxiety which you have been at on my account, by assisting papa in his labors and pursuing with ardor my own business.... I have been extremely low-spirited for some days past, and it still continues. I hope it will wear off by Commencement Day.... I am so low in spirits that I could almost cry. It was no wonder that he was down-hearted, for he was ambitious and longed to carve out a great career for himself, while his good parents were conservative and wished him to become independent as soon as possible. Their plan was to apprentice him to a bookseller, and he dutifully conformed to their wishes for a time, but his ambition could not be curbed, and it was not long before he broke away. CHAPTER II OCTOBER 31, 1810--AUGUST 17. 1811 Enters bookshop as clerk.--Devotes leisure to painting.--Leaves shop.-- Letter to his brothers on appointments at Yale.--Letters from Joseph P. Rossiter.--Morse's first love affair.--Paints "Landing of the Pilgrims." --Prepares to sail with Allstons for England.--Letters of introduction from his father.--Disagreeable stage-ride to New York.--Sails on the Lydia.--Prosperous voyage.--Liverpool.--Trip to London.--Observations on people and customs.--Frequently cheated.--Critical time in England.--Dr. Lettsom.--Sheridan's verse.--Longing for a telegraph.--A ghost After his graduation from Yale College in the fall of 1810, Finley Morse returned to his home in Charlestown, Mass., and cheerfully submitted himself to his parents' wishes by entering the bookshop of a certain Mr. Mallory. He writes under date of October 31, 1810, to his brothers who are still at college: "I am in an excellent situation and on excellent terms. I have four hundred dollars per year, but this you must not mention out. I have the choice of my hours; they are from nine till one-half past twelve, and from three till sunset." But he still clings to the idea of becoming a painter, for he adds: "My evenings I employ in painting. I have every convenience; the room over the kitchen is fitted up for me; I have a fire there every evening, and can spend it alone or otherwise as I please. I have bought me one of the new patent lamps, those with glass chimneys, which gives an excellent light. It cost me about six dollars. Send on as soon as possible anything and everything which pertains to my painting apparatus." The following letter was written at some time in 1810 or 1811. It was addressed to Mr. Sereno E. Dwight:-- "Mr. Mallory a few days since handed me a letter from you requesting me, if possible, to sketch a likeness of young Mr. Daggett. Accordingly I have made the attempt and take the present opportunity of forwarding you the results. The task was hard but pleasurable. It is one of the most difficult undertakings to endeavor to take a portrait from recollection of one whose countenance has not been examined particularly for the purpose. When I made the first attempt, not a single feature could I recall distinctly to my memory and I almost despaired of a likeness, but the thought of lessening the affliction of such a distressed family determined me to attempt it a second time. The result is on the ivory. I then showed it to my brothers, to Mr. Evarts, to Mr. Hillhouse, to Mr. Mallory, and to Mr. Read, all of whom had not the least suspicion of anything of the kind, and they have severally and separately pronounced it a likeness of young Mr. Daggett. This encouraged me, and I made the two other sketches which are thought likewise to be resemblances of him. "If these or any one of them can be recognized by the afflicted family as a resemblance of him they have lost, it will be an ample compensation to me to think that I have in any degree been the means of alleviating their suffering...." On December 8, 1810, he writes to his brother: "I have almost completed my landscape. It is 'proper handsome,' so they say, and they want to make me believe it is so, but I shan't yet awhile." This shows the right frame of mind for an artist, and yet, like most youthful painters, he attempted more than his proficiency warranted, for in this same letter he adds: "I am going to begin, as soon as I have finished it [the landscape], a piece, the subject of which will be 'Marius on the Ruins of Carthage.'" On December 28, 1810, he writes: "I shall leave Mr. Mallory's next week and study painting exclusively till summer." He had at last burst his bonds, and his wise parents, seeing that his heart was only in his painting, decided to throw no further obstacles in his way, but, at the cost of much self-sacrifice on their part, to further in every way his ambition. January 15, 1811. MY DEAR BROTHERS,--We have just received Richard's letter of the 8th inst., and I can have a pretty correct idea of your feelings at the beginning of a vacation. You must not be melancholy and hang yourself. If you do you will have a terrible scolding when you get home again. As for Richard's getting an appointment so low, if I was in his situation, I should not trouble myself one fig concerning _appointments_. They cost more than they are worth. I shall not esteem him the less for not getting a higher, and not more than one millionth part of the world knows what an appointment is. You will both of you have a different opinion of appointments after you have been out of college a short time. I had rather be Richard with a dialogue than Sanford with a dispute. If appointments at college decided your fate forever, you might possibly groan and wail. But then consider where poor I should come. [He got no appointment whatever.] Think of this, Richard, and _don't_ hang _yourself_. [It may, perhaps, be well to explain that "appointments" were given at Yale to those who excelled in scholarship. "Philosophical Oration" was the highest, then came "High Oration," "Oration," etc., etc.] I have left Mr. Mallory's store and am helping papa in the Geography. Shall remain at home till the latter part of next summer and then shall go to London with Mr. Allston. The following extracts from two letters of a college friend I have introduced as throwing some light on Morse's character at that time and also as curious examples of the epistolary style of those days:-- NEW HAVEN, February 5, 1811. Dear Finley,--Yours of the 6th ult. I received, together with the books enclosed, which I delivered personally according to your request. Did I not know the nature of your disorder and the state of your _gizzard_, I should really be surprised at the commencement, and, indeed, the whole tenor of your letter, but as it is I can excuse and feel for you. Had I commenced a letter with the French _Hélas! hélas!_ it would have been no more than might reasonably have been expected considering the desolate situation of New Haven and the gloomy prospects before me. But for you, who are in the very vortex of fashionable life and surrounded by the amusements and bustle of the metropolis of New England, for you to exclaim, "How lonely I am!" is unpardonable, or at most admits of but one excuse, to wit, that you can plead the feelings of the youth who exclaimed, "Gods annihilate both time and space and make two lovers happy!" You suppose I am so much taken up with the ladies and other good things in New Haven that I have not time to think of one of my old friends. Alas! Morse, there are no ladies or anything else to occupy my attention. They are all gone and we have no amusements. Even old Value has deserted us, whose music, though an assemblage of "unharmonious sounds," is infinitely preferable to the harsh grating thunder of his brother. New Haven is, indeed, this winter a dreary place. I wrote you about a month since and did then what you wish me now to do,--I mentioned all that is worth mentioning, which, by the way, is very little, about New Haven and its inhabitants. Since then I have been to New York and saw the Miss Radcliffs, and, in passing through Stamford, the Miss Davenports. The mention of the name of Davenport would at one time have excited in your breast emotions unutterable, but now, though Ann is as lovely as ever, your heart requires the influence of another Hart to quicken its pulsations.... Last but not least comes the all-conquering, the angelic queen of Harts. I have not seen her since she left New Haven, but have heard from her sister Eliza that she is in good health and is going in April to New York with Mrs. Jarvis (her sister) to spend the summer and perhaps a longer time, where she will probably break many a proud heart and bend many a stubborn knee. I fear, Morse, unless you have her firmly in your toils, I fear she may not be able to withstand every attack, for New York abounds with elegant and accomplished young men. You mention that you have again changed your mind as to the business which you intend to pursue. I really thought that the plan of becoming a bookseller would be permanent because sanctioned by parental authority, but I am now convinced that your mind is so much bent upon painting that you will do nothing else effectually. It is indeed a noble art and if pursued effectually leads to the highest eminence, for painters rank with poets, and to be placed in the scale with Milton and Homer is an honor that few of mortal mould attain unto.... I wish, Finley, that you would paint me a handsome piece for a keepsake as you are going to Europe and may not be back in a hurry. Present my respects to Mr. Hillhouse. His father's family are well. Adieu. Your affectionate friend, JOS. P. ROSSITER. From this letter and from others we learn that young Morse's youthful affections were fixed on a certain charming Miss Jannette Hart, but, alas! he proved a faithless lover, for his friend Rossiter thus reproves him in a letter of May 8, 1811:-- "Oh! most amazing change! Can it be possible? Oh! Love, and all ye cordial powers of passion, forbid it! Still, still the dreadful words glare on my sight. Alas! alas! and is it, then, a fact? If so 't is pitiful, 't is wondrous pitiful. Cupid, tear off your bandage, new string your bow and tip your arrows with harder adamant. Oh! shame upon you, only hear the words of your exultant votarist--'Even Love, which according to the proverb conquers all things, when put in competition with painting, must yield the palm and be a willing captive.' Oh! fie, fie, good master Cupid, you shoot but poorly if a victim so often wounded can talk in terms like these. "Poor luckless Jannette! the epithets 'divine' and 'heavenly' which have so often been applied to thee are now transferred to miserable daubings with oil and clay. Dame Nature, your triumph has been short. Poor foolish beldam, you thought, indeed, when you had formed your masterpiece and named her Jannette, that unqualified admiration would be extorted from the lips of prejudice itself, and that, at least, till age had worn off the first dazzling lustre from your favorite, your sway would have been unlimited and your exultation immeasurable. My good old Dame, hear for your comfort what a foolish, fickle youth has dared to say of your darling Jannette, and that while she is yet in the first blush and bloom of virgin loveliness--'_next_ to painting I love Jannette the best.' Insufferable blasphemy! Hear, O Heavens, and be amazed! Tremble, O Earth, and be horribly afraid!" In spite of this impassioned arraignment, Morse devoted himself exclusively to his art for the next few years, and we have only occasional references in the letters that follow to his first serious love affair. We also hear nothing further of "Marius on the Ruins of Carthage"; but in February, 1811, he writes to his brothers: "I am painting my large piece, the landing of our forefathers at Plymouth. Perhaps I shall have it finished by the time you come home in the spring. My landscape I finished sometime since, and it is framed and hung up in the front parlor." At last in July, 1811, the great ambition of the young man was about to be realized and he prepared to set sail for England with his friend and master, Washington Allston. His father, having once made up his mind to allow his son to follow his bent, did everything possible to further his ambition and assist him in his student years. He gave him many letters of introduction to well-known persons in England and France, one of which, to His Excellency C.M. Talleyrand, I shall quote in full. SIR,--I had the honor to introduce to you, some years since, a young friend of mine, Mr. Wilder, who has since resided in your country. Your civility to him induces me to take the liberty to introduce to you my eldest son, who visits Europe for the purpose of perfecting himself in the art of painting under the auspices of some of your eminent artists. Should he visit France, as he intends, I shall direct him to pay his respects to you, sir, assured that he will receive your protection and patronage so far as you can with convenience afford them. In thus doing you will much oblige, Sir, with high consideration Your most ob'd't. Serv't, JED. MORSE. In another letter of introduction, to whom I cannot say, as the address on the copy is lacking, the father says:-- "His parents had designed him for a different profession, but his inclination for the one he has chosen was so strong, and his talents for it, in the opinion of some good judges, so promising, that we thought it not proper to attempt to control his choice. "In this country, young in the arts, there are few means of improvement. These are to be found in their perfection only in older countries, and in none, perhaps, greater than in yours. In compliance, therefore, with his earnest wishes and those of his friend and patron, Mr. Allston (with whom he goes to London), we have consented to make the sacrifice of feeling (not a small one), and a pecuniary exertion to the utmost of our ability, for the purpose of placing him under the best advantage of becoming eminent in his profession, in hope that he will consecrate his acquisitions to the glory of God and the best good of his fellow men." Morse arrived in New York on July 6, 1811, after a several days' journey from Charlestown which he describes as very terrible on account of the heat and dust. People were dying from the heat in New York where the thermometer reached 98° in the shade. He says:-- "My ride to New Haven was beyond everything disagreeable; the sun beating down upon the stage (the sides of which we were obliged to shut up on account of the sun) which was like an oven, and the wind, instead of being in our faces as papa supposed, was at our back and brought into our faces such columns of dust as to hinder us from seeing the other side of the stage. "I never was so completely covered with dust in my life before. Mama, perhaps, will think that I experienced some inconvenience from such a fatiguing journey, but I never felt better in my life than now." The optimism of youth when it is doing what it wants to do. He had taken passage on the good ship Lydia with Mr. and Mrs. Allston and some eleven other passengers, and the sailing of the ship was delayed for several days on account of contrary winds, but at last, on July 13, the voyage was begun. ON BOARD THE LYDIA, OFF SANDY HOOK, July 15, 1811. MY DEAR PARENTS,--After waiting a great length of time I have got under way. We left New York Harbor on Saturday, 13th, about twelve o'clock and went as far as the quarantine ground on Staten Island, where, on account of the wind, we waited over Sunday. We are now under sail with the pilot on board. We have a fair wind from S.S.W. and shall soon be out of sight of land. We have fourteen very agreeable passengers, an experienced and remarkably pleasant captain, and a strong, large, fast-sailing ship. We expect from twenty-five to thirty days' passage.... We have a piano-forte on board and two gentlemen who play elegantly, so we shall have fine times. I am in good spirits, though I feel rather singularly to see my native shores disappearing so fast and for so long a time. I am not yet seasick, but expect to be a little so in a few days. We shall probably be boarded by a British vessel of war soon; there are a number off the coast, but they treat American vessels very civilly. He kept a careful diary of the voyage to England and again resumed it when he returned to America in 1815. The voyage out was most propitious and lasted but twenty-two days in all: a very short one for that time. As the diary contains nothing of importance relating to the eastern voyage, being simply a record of good weather, fair winds, and pleasant companions, I shall not quote from it at present. It was all pleasure to the young man, who had never before been away from home, and he sees no reason why people should dread a sea voyage. The journal of the return trip tells a different story, as we shall see later on, for the passage lasted fifty-seven days, and head winds, gales, and even hurricanes were encountered all the way across, and he wonders why any one should go to sea who can remain safely on land. LIVERPOOL, August 7, 1811. MY DEAR PARENTS,--You see from the date that I have at length arrived in England. I have had a most delightful passage of twenty days from land to land and two in coming up the channel. As this is a letter merely to inform you of my safe arrival I shall not enter into the particulars of our voyage until I get to London, to which place I shall proceed as soon as possible. Suffice it to say that I have not been sick a moment of the passage, but, on the contrary, have never enjoyed my health better. I have not as yet got my trunks from the custom-house, but presume I shall meet with no difficulty. I am now at the Liverpool Arms Inn. It is the same inn that Mr. Silliman put up at; it is, however, very expensive; they charge the enormous sum, I believe, of a guinea or a guinea and a half a day. If I should be detained a day or two in this place I shall endeavor to find out other lodgings; at present, however, it is unavoidable, as all the other passengers are at the same place with me. You may rest assured I shall do everything in my power to be economical, but to avoid imposition of some kind or other cannot be expected, since every one who has been in England and spoken of the subject to me has been imposed upon in some way or other. You cannot think how many times I have expressed a wish that you knew exactly how I was situated. My passage has been so perfectly agreeable, I know not of a single circumstance that has interfered to render it otherwise, through the whole passage. There has been but one day in which we have not had fair winds. Mr. and Mrs. Allston are perfectly well. She has been seasick, but has been greatly benefited by it. She is growing quite healthy. I have grown about three shades darker in consequence of my voyage. I have a great deal to tell you which I must defer till I arrive in London.... Oh! how I wish you knew at this moment that I am safe and well in England. Good-bye. Do write soon and often as I shall. Your very affectionate son, SAML. F.B. MORSE. Everything was new and interesting to the young artist, and his critical observations on people and places, on manners and customs, are naïve and often very keen. The following are extracts from his diary:-- "As to the manners of the people it cannot be expected that I should form a correct opinion of them since my intercourse with them has been so short, but, from what little I have seen, I am induced to entertain a very favorable opinion of their hospitality. The appearance of the women as I met them in the streets struck me on account of the beauty of their complexions. Their faces may be said to be handsome, but their figures are very indifferent and their gait, in walking, is very bad. "On Friday, the 9th of August, I went to the Mayor to get leave to go to London. He gave me ten days to get there, and told me, if he found me in Liverpool after that time, he should put me in prison, at which I could not help smiling. His name is Drinkwater, but from the appearance of his face I should judge it might be Drinkbrandy. "On account of his limiting us to ten days we prepared to set out for London immediately as we should be obliged to travel slowly.... Mr. and Mrs. Allston and myself ordered a post-chaise, and at twelve o'clock we set out for Manchester, intending to stay there the first night.... The people, great numbers of whom we passed, had cheerful, healthy countenances; they were neat in their dress and appeared perfectly happy.... "Much has been said concerning the miserable state in which the lower class of people live in England but especially in large manufacturing cities. That they are so unhappy as some would think I conceive to be erroneous. We are apt to suppose people are unhappy for the reason that, were we taken from our present situation of independence and placed in their situation of dependence, we should be unhappy; not considering that contentment is the foundation of happiness. As far as my own observation extends, and from what I can learn on inquiry, the lower class of people generally are contented. N.B. I have altered my opinion since writing this.... "Thus far on our journey we have had a very pleasant time. There is great difference I find in the treatment of travellers. They are treated according to the style in which they travel. If a man arrives at the door of an inn in a stage-coach, he is suffered to alight without notice, and it is taken for granted that common fare will answer for him. But if he comes in a post-chaise, the whole inn is in an uproar; the whole house come to the door, from the landlord down to boots. One holds his hand to help you to alight, another is very officious in showing you to the parlor, and another gets in the baggage, whilst the landlord and landlady are quite in a bustle to know what the gentleman will please to have. This attention, however, is very pleasant, you are sure to be waited upon well and can have everything you will call for, and that of the nicest kind. It is the custom in this country to hire no servants at inns. They, on the contrary, pay for their places and the only wages they get is from the generosity of travellers. "This circumstance at first would strike a person unacquainted with the customs of England as a very great imposition. I thought so, but, since I have considered the subject better, I believe that there could not be a wiser plan formed. It makes servants civil and obliging and always ready to do anything; for, knowing that they depend altogether on the bounty of travellers, they would fear to do anything which would in the least offend them; and, as there is a customary price for each grade of servants, a person who is travelling can as well calculate the expense of his journey as though they were nothing of the kind." "_London, August 15, 1811._ You see from the date that I have at length arrived at the place of my destination. I have been in the city about three hours, so you see what is my first object.... Mr. and Mrs. Allston with myself took a post-chaise which, indeed, is much more expensive than a stage-coach, but, on account of Mrs. Allston's health, which you know was not very good when in Boston (although she is much benefited by her voyage), we were obliged to travel slowly, and in this manner it has cost us perhaps double the sum which it would have done had we come in a stage-coach. But necessity obliged me to act as I have done. I found myself in a land of strangers, liable to be cheated out of my teeth almost, and, if I had gone to London without Mr. Allston, by waiting at a boarding-house, totally unacquainted with any living creature, I should probably have expended the difference by the time he had arrived.... I trust you will not think it extravagant in me for doing as I have done, for I assure you I shall endeavor to be as economical as possible. "I also mentioned in my letter that I could scarcely expect to steer free from imposition since none of my predecessors have been able to do it. Since writing that letter I have found (in spite of all my care to the contrary) my observation true. In going from the Liverpool Arms to Mr. Woolsey's, which is over a mile, I was under the necessity of getting into a hackney-coach. Upon asking what was to pay he told me a shilling. I offered him half a guinea to change, which I knew to be good, having taken it at the hank in New York. "He tossed it into the air and caught it in his mouth very dexterously, and, handing it to me back again, told me it was a bad one. I looked at it and told him I was sure it was good, but, appealing to a gentleman who was passing, I found it was bad. Of course I was obliged to give him other money. When I got to my lodgings I related the circumstance to some of my friends and they told me he had cheated me in this way: that it was common for them to carry bad money about them in their mouths, and, when this fellow had caught the good half-guinea in his mouth, he changed it for a bad one. This is one of the thousand tricks they play every day. I have likewise received eleven bad shillings on the road between Liverpool and this place, and it is hardly to be wondered at, for the shilling pieces here are just like old buttons without eyes, without the sign of an impression on them, and one who is not accustomed to this sort of money will never know the difference. "I find, as mama used to tell me, that I must watch my very teeth or they will cheat me out of them." "_Friday, 16th, 1811._ This morning I called on Mr. Bromfield and delivered my letters. He received me very cordially, enquired after you particularly, and invited me to dine with him at 5 o'clock, which invitation I accepted.... I find I have arrived in England at a very critical state of affairs. If such a state continues much longer, England must fall. American measures affect this country more than you can have any idea of. The embargo, if it had continued six weeks longer, it is said would have forced this country into any measures." "_Saturday, 17th._ I have been unwell to-day in some degree, so that I have not been able to go out all day. It was a return of the colic. I sent my letter of introduction to Dr. Lettsom with a request that he would call on me, which he did and prescribed a medicine which cured me in an hour or two, and this evening I feel well enough to resume my letter. "Dr. Lettsom is a very singular man. He looks considerably like the print you have of him. He is a moderate Quaker, but not precise and stiff like the Quakers of Philadelphia. He is a very pleasant and sociable man and withal very blunt in his address. He is a man of excellent information and is considered among the greatest literary characters here. There is one peculiarity, however, which he has in conversation, that of using the verb in the third person singular with the pronoun in the first person singular and plural, as instead of 'I show' or 'we show,' he says 'I shows,' 'we shows,' etc., upon which peculiarity the famous Mr. Sheridan made the following lines in ridicule of him:-- "If patients call, both one and all I bleeds 'em and I sweats 'em, And if they die, why what care I-- "I. LETTSOM. "This is a liberty I suppose great men take with each other.... "Perhaps you may have been struck at the lateness of the hour set by Mr. Bromfield for dinner [5 o'clock!], but that is considered quite early in London. I will tell you the fashionable hours. A person to be genteel must rise at twelve o'clock, breakfast at two, dine at six, and sup at the same time, and go to bed about three o'clock the next morning. This may appear extravagant, but it is actually practised by the greatest of the fashionables of London.... "I think you will not complain of the shortness of this letter. I only wish you now had it to relieve your minds from anxiety, for, while I am writing, I can imagine mama wishing that she could hear of my arrival, and thinking of thousands of accidents that may have befallen me, and _I wish that in an instant I could communicate the information;_ but three thousand miles are not passed over in an instant and we must wait four long weeks before we can hear from each other." (The italics are mine, for on the outside of this letter written by Morse in pencil are the words:-- "A longing for the telegraph even in this letter.") "There has a ghost made its appearance a few streets only from me which has alarmed the whole city. It appears every night in the form of shriekings and groanings. There are crowds at the house every night, and, although they all hear the noises, none can discover from whence they come. The family have quitted the house. I suppose 'tis only a hoax by some rogue which will be brought out in time." CHAPTER III AUGUST 24, 1811--DECEMBER 1. 1811 Benjamin West.--George III.--Morse begins his studies.--Introduced to West.--Enthusiasms.--Smuggling and lotteries.--English appreciation of art.--Copley.--Friendliness of West.--Elgin marbles.--Cries of London.-- Custom in knocking.--Witnesses balloon ascension.--Crowds.--Vauxhall Gardens.--St. Bartholomew's Fair.--Efforts to be economical.--Signs of war.--Mails delayed.--Admitted to Royal Academy.--Disturbances, riots, and murders. At this time Benjamin West the American was President of the Royal Academy and at the zenith of his power and fame. Young Morse, admitted at once into the great man's intimacy through his connection with Washington Allston and by letters of introduction, was dazzled and filled with enthusiasm for the works of the master. He considered him one of the greatest of painters, if not the greatest, of all times. The verdict of posterity does not grant him quite so exalted a niche in the temple of Fame, but his paintings have many solid merits and his friendship and favor were a source of great inspiration to the young artist. Mr. Prime in his biography of Morse relates this interesting anecdote:-- "During the war of American Independence, West, remaining true to his native country, enjoyed the continued confidence of the King, and was actually engaged upon his portrait when the Declaration of Independence was handed to him. Mr. Morse received the facts from the lips of West himself, and communicated them to me in these words:-- "'I called upon Mr. West at his house in Newman Street one morning, and in conformity with the order given to his servant, Robert, always to admit Mr. Leslie and myself, even if he was engaged in his private studies, I was shown into his studio. "'As I entered, a half-length portrait of George III stood before me upon an easel, and Mr. West was sitting with back toward me copying from it upon canvas. My name having been mentioned to him, he did not turn, but, pointing with the pencil he had in his hand to the portrait from which he was copying, he said:-- "'"Do you see that picture, Mr. Morse?" "'"Yes sir!" I said; "I perceive it is the portrait of the King." "'"Well," said Mr. West, "the King was sitting to me for that portrait when the box containing the American Declaration of Independence was handed to him." "'"Indeed," I answered; "what appeared to be the emotions of the King? what did he say?" "'"Well, sir," said Mr. West, "he made a reply characteristic of the goodness of his heart," or words to that effect. "'Well, if they can be happier under the government they have chosen than under mine, I shall be happy.'"'" On August 24, 1811, Morse writes to his parents:-- "I have begun my studies, the first part of which is drawing. I am drawing from the head of Demosthenes at present, to get accustomed to handling black and white chalk. I shall then commence a drawing for the purpose of trying to enter the Royal Academy. It is a much harder task to enter now than when Mr. Allston was here, as they now require a pretty accurate knowledge of anatomy before they suffer them to enter, and I shall find the advantage of my anatomical lectures. I feel rather encouraged from this circumstance, since the harder it is to gain admittance, the greater honor it will be should I enter. I have likewise begun a large landscape which, at a bold push, I intend for the Exhibition, though I run the risk of being refused.... "I was introduced to Mr. West by Mr. Allston and likewise gave him your letter. He was very glad to see me, and said he would render me every assistance in his power." "At the British Institution I saw his famous piece of Christ healing the sick. He said to me: 'This is the piece I intended for America, but the British would have it themselves; but I shall give America the better one.' He has begun a copy, which I likewise saw, and there are several alterations for the better, if it is possible to be better. A sight of that piece is worth a voyage to England of itself. When it goes to America, if you don't go to see it, I shall think you have not the least taste for paintings." "The encomiums which Mr. West has received on account of that piece have given him new life, and some say he is at least ten years younger. He is now likewise about another piece which will probably be superior to the other. He favored me with a sight of the sketch, which he said he granted to me because I was an American. He had not shown it to anybody else. Mr. Allston was with me and told me afterwards that, however superior his last piece was, this would far exceed it. The subject is Christ before Pilate. It will contain about fifty or sixty figures the size of life." "Mr. West is in his seventy-sixth year (I think), but, to see him, you would suppose him only about five-and-forty. He is very active; a flight of steps at the British Gallery he ran up as nimbly as I could.... I walked through his gallery of paintings of his own productions; there were upward of two hundred, consisting principally of the original sketches of his large pieces. He has painted in all upwards of six hundred pictures, which is more than any artist ever did with the exception of Rubens the celebrated Dutch painter.... "I was surprised on entering the gallery of paintings in the British Institution, at seeing eight or ten _ladies_ as well as gentlemen, with their easels and palettes and oil colors, employed in copying some of the pictures. You can see from this circumstance in what estimation the art is held here, since ladies of distinction, without hesitation or reserve, are willing to draw in public.... "By the way, I digress a little to inform you how I got my segars on shore. When we first went ashore I filled my pockets and hat as full as I could and left the rest in the top of my trunk intending to come and get them immediately. I came back and took another pocket load and left about eight or nine dozen on the top of my clothes. I went up into the city again and forgot the remainder until it was too late either to take them out or hide them under the clothes. So I waited trembling (for contraband goods subject the whole trunk to seizure), but the custom-house officer, being very good-natured and clever, saw them and took them up. I told him they were only for my own smoking and there were so few that they were not worth seizing. 'Oh,' says he, 'I shan't touch them; I won't know they are here,' and then shut down the trunk again. As he smoked, I gave him a couple of dozen for his kindness." What a curious commentary on human nature it is that even the most pious, up to our own time, can see no harm in smuggling and bribery. And, as another instance of how the standards of right and wrong change with the changing years, further on in this same letter to his strict and pious parents young Morse says:-- "I have just received letters and papers from you by the Galen which has arrived. I was glad to see American papers again. I see by them that the lottery is done drawing. How has my ticket turned out? If the weight will not be too great for one shipload, I wish you would send the money by the next vessel." The lottery was for the benefit of Harvard College. "_September 3, 1811._ I have finished a drawing which I intended to offer at the Academy for admission. Mr. Allston told me it would undoubtedly admit me, as it was better than two thirds of those generally offered, but advised me to draw another and remedy some defects in handling the chalks (to which I am not at all accustomed), and he says I shall enter with some éclat. I showed it to Mr. West and he told me it was an extraordinary production, that I had talent, and only wanted knowledge of the art to make a great painter." In a letter to his friends, Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis, dated September 17, 1811, he says:-- "I was astonished to find such a difference in the encouragement of art between this country and America. In America it seemed to lie neglected, and only thought to be an employment suited to a lower class of people; but here it is the constant subject of conversation, and the exhibitions of the several painters are fashionable resorts. No person is esteemed accomplished or well educated unless he possesses almost an enthusiastic love for paintings. To possess a gallery of pictures is the pride of every nobleman, and they seem to vie with each other in possessing the most choice and most numerous collection.... I visited Mr. Copley a few days since. He is very old and infirm. I think his age is upward of seventy, nearly the age of Mr. West. His powers of mind have almost entirely left him; his late paintings are miserable; it is really a lamentable thing that a man should outlive his faculties. He has been a first-rate painter, as you well know. I saw at his room some exquisite pieces which he painted twenty or thirty years ago, but his paintings of the last four or five years are very bad. He was very pleasant, however, and agreeable in his manners. "Mr. West I visit now and then. He is very liberal to me and gives me every encouragement. He is a very friendly man; he talked with me like a father and wished me to call and see him often and be intimate with him. Age, instead of impairing his faculties, seems rather to have strengthened them, as his last great piece testifies. He is soon coming out with another which Mr. Allston thinks will far surpass even this last. The subject is Christ before Pilate. "I went last week to Burlington House in Piccadilly, about forty-five minutes' walk, the residence of Lord Elgin, to see some of the ruins of Athens. Lord Elgin has been at an immense expense in transporting the great collection of splendid ruins, among them some of the original statues of Phidias, the celebrated ancient sculptor. They are very much mutilated, however, and impaired by time; still there was enough remaining to show the inferiority of all subsequent sculpture. Even those celebrated works, the Apollo Belvedere, Venus di Medicis, and the rest of those noble statues, must yield to them.... "The cries of London, of which you have doubtless heard, are very annoying to me, as indeed they are to all strangers. The noise of them is constantly in one's ears from morning till midnight, and, with the exception of one or two, they all appear to be the cries of distress. I don't know how many times I have run to the window expecting to see some poor creature in the agonies of death, but found, to my surprise, that it was only an old woman crying 'Fardin' apples,' or something of the kind. Hogarth's picture of the enraged musician will give you an excellent idea of the noise I hear every day under my windows.... "There is a singular custom with respect to knocking at the doors of houses here which is strictly adhered to. A servant belonging to the house rings the bell only; a strange servant knocks once; a market man or woman knocks once and rings; the penny post knocks twice; and a gentleman or lady half a dozen quick knocks, or any number over two. A nobleman generally knocks eight or ten tunes very loud. "The accounts lately received from America look rather gloomy. They are thought here to wear a more threatening aspect than they have heretofore done. From my own observation and opportunity of hearing the opinion of the people generally, they are extremely desirous of an amicable adjustment of differences, and seem as much opposed to the idea of war as the better part of the American people.... "In this letter you will perceive all the variety of feeling which I have had for a fortnight past; sometimes in very low, sometimes in very high spirits, and sometimes a balance of each; which latter, though very desirable, I seldom have, but generally am at one extreme or the other. I wrote this in the evenings of the last two weeks, and this will account, and I hope apologize, for its great want of connection." In a long letter to a friend, dated September 17, 1811, he thus describes some of the sights of London:-- "A few days since I walked about four miles out of town to a village of the name of Hackney to witness the ascension of a Mr. Sadler and another gentleman in a balloon. It was a very grand sight, and the next day the aeronauts returned to Hackney, having gone nearly fifty miles in about an hour and a half. The number of people who attended on this occasion might be fairly estimated at 300,000, such a concourse as I never before witnessed. "When the balloon was out of sight the crowd began to return home, and such a confusion it is almost impossible for me to describe. A gang of pickpockets had contrived to block up the way, which was across a bridge, with carriages and carts, etc., and as soon as the people began to move it created such an obstruction that, in a few moments, this great crowd, in the midst of which I had unfortunately got, was stopped. This gave the pickpockets an opportunity and the people were plundered to a great amount. "I was detained in this manner, almost suffocated, in a great shower of rain, for about an hour, and, what added to the misery of the scene, there were a great many women and children crying and screaming in all directions, and no one able to assist them, not even having a finger at liberty, they were wedged in in such a manner. I had often heard of the danger of a London crowd, but never before experienced it, and I think once is amply sufficient and shall rest satisfied with it. "A few evenings since I visited the celebrated Vauxhall Gardens, of which you have doubtless often heard. I must say they far exceeded my expectations; I never before had an idea of such splendor. The moment I went in I was almost struck blind with the blaze of light proceeding from thousands of lamps and those of every color. "In the midst of the gardens stands the orchestra box in the form of a large temple and most beautifully illuminated. In this the principal band of music is placed. At a little distance is another smaller temple in which is placed the Turkish band. On one side of the gardens you enter two splendid saloons illuminated in the same brilliant manner. In one of them the Pandean band is placed, and in the other the Scotch band. All around the gardens is a walk with a covered top, but opening on the sides under curtains in festoons, and these form the most splendid illuminated part of the whole gardens. The amusements of the evening are music, waterworks, fireworks, and dancing. "The principal band plays till about ten o'clock, when a little bell is rung, and the whole concourse of people (the greater part of which are females) run to a dark part of the gardens where there is an admirable deception of waterworks. A bridge is seen over which stages and wagons, men and horses, are seen passing; birds flying across and the water in great cataracts falling down from the mountains and passing over smaller falls under the bridges; men are seen rowing a boat across, and, indeed, everything which could be devised in such an exhibition was performed. "This continues for about fifteen minutes, when they all return into the illuminated part of the gardens and are amused by music from the same orchestra till eleven o'clock. They then are called away again to the dark part of the gardens, where is an exhibition of the most splendid fireworks; sky-rockets, serpents, wheels, and fountains of fire in the greatest abundance, occupying twenty minutes more of the time. "After this exhibition is closed, they again return into the illuminated parts of the gardens, where the music strikes up from the chief orchestra, and hundreds of groups are immediately formed for dancing. Respectable ladies, however, seldom join in this dance, although gentlemen of the first distinction sometimes for amusement lend a hand, or rather a foot, to the general cheerfulness. "All now is gayety throughout the gardens; every one is in motion, and care, that bane of human happiness, for a time seems to have lost her dominion over the human heart. Had the Eastern sage, who was in search of the land of happiness, at this moment been introduced into Vauxhall, I think his most exalted conceptions of happiness would have been surpassed, and he would rest contented in having at last found the object of his wishes. "In a few minutes the chief orchestra ceases and is relieved in turn by the other bands, the company following the music. The Scotch band principally plays Scotch reels and dances. The music and this course of dancing continue till about four o'clock in the morning, when the lights are extinguished and the company disperses. On this evening, which was by no means considered as a full night, the company consisted of perhaps three thousand persons. "I had the pleasure a few days since of witnessing one of the oddest exhibitions, perhaps, in the world. It was no other than _St. Bartholomew's Fair_. It is held here in London once a year and continues three days. There is a ceremony in opening it by the Lord Mayor, which I did not see. At this fair the lower orders of society are let loose and allowed to amuse themselves in any lawful way they please. The fair is held in Smithfield Market, about the centre of the city. The principal amusement appeared to be swinging. There were large boxes capable of holding five or six suspended in large frames in such manner as to vibrate nearly through a semicircle. There were, to speak within bounds, three hundred of these. They were placed all round the square, and it almost made me giddy only to see them all in motion. They were so much pressed for room that one of these swings would clear another but about two inches, and it seemed almost miraculous to me that they did not meet with more accidents than they did. "Another amusement were large wheels, about thirty or forty feet in diameter, on the circumference of which were four and sometimes six boxes capable of holding four persons. These are set in slow motion, and they gradually rise to the top of the wheel and as gradually descend and so on in succession. There were various other machines on the same principle which I have not time to describe. "In the centre of the square was an assemblage of everything in the world; theatres, wild beasts, _lusus naturoe_, mountebanks, buffoons, dancers on the slack wire, fighting and swearing, pocket-picking and stealing, music and dancing, and hubbub and confusion in every confused shape. "The theatres are worth describing; they are temporary buildings put up and ornamented very richly on the exteriors to attract attention, while the interiors, like many persons' heads, are but very poorly furnished. Strolling companies of players occupy these, and between the plays the actors and actresses exhibit themselves on a stage before the theatre in all their spangled robes and false jewels, and strut and flourish about till the theatre is filled. "Then they go in and turn, perhaps, a very serious tragedy into one of the most ridiculous farces. They occupy about fifteen minutes in reciting a play and then a fresh audience is collected, and so they proceed through the three days and nights, so that the poor actors and actresses are killed about fifty times in the course of a day. "A person who goes into one of these theatres must not expect to hear a syllable of the tragedy. If he can look upon the stage it is as much as he can expect, for there is such a confused noise without of drums and fifes, clarionets, bassoons, hautboys, triangles, fiddles, bass-viols, and, in short, every possible instrument that can make a noise, that if a person gets safe from the fair without the total loss of his hearing for three weeks he may consider himself fortunate. Contiguous to the theatres are the exhibition rooms of the jugglers and buffoons, who also between their exhibitions display their tricks on stages before the populace, and show as many antics as so many monkeys. But were I to attempt a description of everything I saw at Bartholomew Fair my letter, instead of being a few sheets, would swell to as many quires; so I must close it. "I shall probably soon witness an exhibition of a more interesting nature; I mean a coronation. The King is now so very low that he cannot survive more than a week or two longer, and immediately on his death the ceremony of the coronation takes place. If I should see it I shall certainly describe it to you." The King, George III, did not, however, die until 1820. In a letter of September 20 to his parents he says: "I endeavor to be as economical as possible and am getting into the habit very fast. It must be learned by degrees. I shall not say, as Salmagundi says,--'I shall spare no expense in discovering the most economical way of spending money,' but shall endeavor to practise it immediately." "_September 24, 1811._ You will see by the papers which accompany this what a report respecting the capture of the U.S. frigate President by Melampus frigate prevails here. It is sufficient to say it is not in the least credited. "In case of war I shall be ordered out of the country. If so, instead of returning home, had I not better go to Paris, as it is cheaper living there even than in London, and there are great advantages there? I only ask the question in case of war.... I am going on swimmingly. Next week on Monday the Royal Academy opens and I shall present my drawing." "_October 21, 1811._ I wrote you by the Galen about three weeks ago and have this moment heard she was still in the Downs. I was really provoked. There is great deception about vessels; they advertise for a certain day and perhaps do not sail under a month after. The Galen has been going and going till I am sick of hearing she hasn't gone." "_November 6, 1811._ After leaving this letter so long, as you see by the different dates, I again resume it. Perhaps you will be surprised when I tell you that but yesterday I heard that the Galen is still wind-bound. It makes my letters which are on board of her about five or six weeks old, besides the prospect of a long voyage. However it is not her fault. There are three or four hundred vessels in the same predicament. The wind has been such that it has been impossible for any of them to get under weigh; but I must confess I feel considerably anxious on your account.... "I mentioned in one of my other letters that I had drawn a figure (the Gladiator) to admit me into the Academy. After I had finished it I was displeased with it, and concluded not to offer it, but to attempt another. I have accordingly drawn another from the Laocoon statue, the most difficult of all the statues; have shown it to, the keeper of the Academy and _am admitted for a year_ without the least difficulty. Mr. Allston was pleased to compliment me upon it by saying that it was better than two thirds of the drawings of those who had been drawing at the Academy for two years." "_November 85, 1811._ I mentioned in my last letter that I had entered the Royal Academy, which information I hope will give you pleasure. I now employ my days in painting at home and in the evenings in drawing at the Academy as is customary. I have finished a landscape and almost finished a copy of a portrait which Mr. West lent me. Mr. Allston has seen it and complimented me by saying it was just a hundred tunes better than he had any idea I could do, and that I should astonish Mr. West very much. I have also begun a landscape, a morning scene at sunrise, which Mr. Allston is very much pleased with. All these things encourage me, and, as every day passes away, I feel increased enthusiasm.... "Distresses are increasing in this country, and disturbances, riots, etc., have commenced as you will see by the papers which accompany this. They are considered very alarming." "_December 1, 1811._ I am pursuing my studies with increased enthusiasm, and hope, before the three years are out, to relieve you from further expense on my account. Mr. Allston encourages me to think thus from the rapid improvement he says I have made. You may rest assured I shall use all my endeavors to do it as soon as may be.... "This country appears to me to be in a very bad state. I judge from the increasing disturbances at Nottingham, and more especially from the startling murders lately committed in this city. "A few mornings since was published an account of the murder of a family consisting of four persons, and this moment there is another account of the murder of one consisting of three persons, making the twelfth murder committed in that part of the city within three months, and not one of the murderers as yet has been discovered, although a reward of more than seven hundred pounds has been offered for the discovery. "The inhabitants are very much alarmed, and hereafter I shall sleep with pistols at the head of my bed, although there is little to apprehend in this part of the city. Still, as I find many of my acquaintance adopting that plan, I choose rather to be on the safe side and join with them." CHAPTER IV JANUARY 18, 1812--AUGUST 6. 1812 Political opinions.--Charles E. Leslie's reminiscences of Morse, Allston, King, and Coleridge.--C. B. King's letter.--Sidney E. Morse's letter.-- Benjamin West's kindness.--Sir William Beechy.--Murders, robberies, etc. --Morse and Leslie paint each other's portraits.--The elder Morse's financial difficulties.--He deprecates the war talk.--The son differs with his father.--The Prince Regent.--Orders in Council.--Estimate of West.--Alarming state of affairs in England.--Assassination of Perceval, Prime Minister.--Execution of assassin.--Morse's love for his art.-- Stephen Van Rensselaer.--Leslie the friend and Allston the master.-- Afternoon tea.--The elder Morse well known in Europe.--Lord Castlereagh. --The Queen's drawing-room.--Kemble and Mrs. Siddons.--Zachary Macaulay. --Warning letter from his parents.--War declared.--Morse approves.-- Gratitude to his parents, and to Allston. The years from 1811 to 1815 which were passed by Morse in the study of his art in London are full of historical interest, for England and America were at war from 1812 to 1814, and the campaign of the allied European Powers against Napoleon Bonaparte culminated in Waterloo and the Treaty of Paris in 1815. The young man took a deep interest in these affairs and expressed his opinions freely and forcibly in his letters to his parents. His father was a strong Federalist and bitterly deprecated the declaration of war by the United States. The son, on the contrary, from his point of vantage in the enemy's country saw things from a different point of view and stoutly upheld the wisdom, nay, the necessity, of the war. His parents and friends urged him to keep out of politics and to be discreet, and he seems, at any rate, to have followed their advice in the latter respect, for he was not in any way molested by the authorities. At the same time he was making steady progress in his studies and making friends, both among the Americans who were his fellow students or artists of established reputation, and among distinguished Englishmen who were friends of his father. Among the former was Charles R. Leslie, his room-mate and devoted friend, who afterwards became one of the best of the American painters of those days. In his autobiography Leslie says:-- "My new acquaintances Allston, King, and Morse were very kind, but still they were _new_ acquaintances. I thought of the happy circle round my mother's fireside, and there were moments in which, but for my obligations to Mr. Bradford and my other kind patrons, I could have been content to forfeit all the advantages I expected from my visit to England and return immediately to America. The two years I was to remain in London seemed, in prospect, an age. "Mr. Morse, who was but a year or two older than myself, and who had been in London but six months when I arrived, felt very much as I did and we agreed to take apartments together. For some time we painted in one room, he at one window and I at the other. We drew at the Royal Academy in the evening and worked at home in the day. Our mentors were Allston and King, nor could we have been better provided; Allston, a most amiable and polished gentleman, and a painter of the purest taste; and King, warm-hearted, sincere, sensible, prudent, and the strictest of economists. "When Allston was suffering extreme depression of spirits after the loss of his wife, he was haunted during sleepless nights by horrid thoughts, and he told me that diabolical imprecations forced themselves into his mind. The distress of this to a man so sincerely religious as Allston may be imagined. He wished to consult Coleridge, but could not summon resolution. He desired, therefore, that I should do it, and I went to Highgate where Coleridge was at that time living with Mr. Gillman. I found him walking in the garden, his hat in his hand (as it generally was in the open air), for he told me that, having been one of the Bluecoat Boys, among whom it is the fashion to go bareheaded, he had acquired a dislike to any covering of the head. "I explained the cause of my visit and he said: 'Allston should say to himself, "_Nothing is me but my will._ These thoughts, therefore, that force themselves on my mind are no part of _me_ and there can be no guilt in them." If he will make a strong effort to become indifferent to their recurrence, they will either cease or cease to trouble him.' "He said much more, but this was the substance, and, after it was repeated to Allston, I did not hear him again complain of the same kind of disturbance." Mr. C.B. King, the other friend mentioned by Leslie, returned to America in 1812, and writes from Philadelphia, January 3, 1813:-- MY DEAR FRIENDS, This will be handed you by Mr. Payne, of Boston, who intends passing some time in England.... I have not been here sufficiently long to forget the delightful time when we could meet in the evening with novels, coffee, and _music by Morse_, with the conversation of that dear fellow Allston. The reflection that it will not again take place, comes across my mind accompanied with the same painful sensation as the thought that I must die. That Morse was not forgotten by the good people at home is evidenced by a letter from his brother, Sidney Edwards, of January 18, 1812, part of which I transcribe:-- DEAR BROTHER,--I am sitting in the parlor in the armchair on the right of the fireplace, and, as I hold my paper in my hand, with my feet sprawled out before the fire, and with my body reclining in an oblique position against the back of the chair, I am penning you a letter such as it is, and for the inverted position of the letters of which I beg to apologize. As I turn my eyes upward and opposite I behold the family picture painted by an ingenious artist who, I understand, is at present residing in London. If you are acquainted with him, give my love to him and my best wishes for his prosperity and success in the art to which, if report says true, he has devoted himself with much diligence. Richard sits before me writing to you, and mama says (for I have just asked her the question) that she is engaged in the same business. Papa is upstairs very much engaged in the selfsame employment. Four right hands are at this instant writing to give you, at some future moment, the pleasure of perusing the products of their present labor. Four imaginations are now employed in conceiving of a son or a brother in a distant land. Therefore we may draw the conclusion that you are not universally forgotten, and consequently all do not forget you. I have written you this long letter because I knew that you would be anxious for the information it contains; because papa told me I must write; because mama said I had better write; because I had nothing else to do, and because I hadn't time to write a shorter. I trust for these special reasons you will excuse me for this once, especially when you consider that you asked me to write you long letters; when you consider that it is my natural disposition to express my sentiments fully; that I commonly say most when I have least to say; that I promise reformation in future, and that you shall hereafter hear from me on this subject. As to news, I am sorry to say we are entirely out. We sent you the last we had by the Sally Ann. We hope to get some ready by the time the next ship sails, and then we will furnish you with the best the country affords. From a letter of January 30, 1812, to his parents I select the following passages:-- "On Tuesday last I dined at Mr. West's, who requested to be particularly remembered to you. He is extremely attentive and polite to me. He called on me a few days ago, which I consider a very marked attention as he keeps so confined that he seldom pays any visits.... "I have changed my lodgings to No. 82 in the same street [Great Titchfield Street], and have rooms with young Leslie of Philadelphia who has just arrived. He is very promising and a very agreeable room-mate. We are in the same stage of advancement in art. "I have painted five pieces since I have been here, two landscapes and three portraits; one of myself, one a copy from Mr. West's copy from Vandyke, and the other a portrait of Mr. Leslie, who is also taking mine.... I called a day or two since on Sir William Beechy, an artist of great eminence, to see his paintings. They are beautiful beyond anything I ever imagined. His principal excellence is in coloring, which, to the many, is the most attractive part of art. Sir William is considered the best colorist now living. "You may be apt to ask, 'If Sir William is so great and even the best, what is Mr. West's great excellence?' Mr. West is a bad colorist in general, but he excels in the grandeur of his thought. Mr. West is to painting what Milton is to poetry, and Sir William Beechy to Mr. West as Pope to Milton, so that by comparing, or rather illustrating the one art by the other, I can give you a better idea of the art of painting than in any other way. For as some poets excel in the different species of poetry and stand at the head of their different kinds, in the same manner do painters have their particular branch of their art; and as epic poetry excels all other kinds of poetry, because it addresses itself to the sublimer feelings of our nature, so does historical painting stand preëminent in our art, because it calls forth the same feelings. For poets' and painters' minds are the same, and I infer that painting is superior to poetry from this:--that the painter possesses with the poet a vigorous imagination, where the poet stops, while the painter exceeds him in the mechanical and very difficult part of the art, that of handling the pencil." "I gave you a hint in letter number 12 and a particular account in number 13 of the horrid murders committed in this city. It has been pretty well ascertained from a variety of evidence that all of them have been committed by one man, who was apprehended and put an end to his life in prison. Very horrid attempts at robbery and murder have been very frequent of late in all parts of the city, and even so near as within two doors of me in the same street, but do not be alarmed, you have nothing to fear on my account. Leslie and myself sleep in the same room and sleep armed with a pair of pistols and a sword and alarms at our doors and windows, so we are safe on that score.... "In my next I shall give you some account of politics here and as it respects America. The Federalists are certainly wrong in very many things.... "P.S. I wish you would keep my letter in which I enumerate all my friends, and when I say, 'Give my love to my friends,' imagine I write them all over, and distribute it out to all as you think I ought, always particularizing Miss Russell, my patroness, my brothers, relations, and Mr. Brown and Nancy [his old nurse]. This will save me time, ink, trouble, and paper." Concerning the portraits which Morse and Leslie were painting of each other, the following letter to Morse's mother, from a friend in Philadelphia and signed "R.W. Snow," will be found interesting:-- MY DEAR FRIEND,--I have this moment received a letter from Miss Vaughan in London, dated February 20, 1812, and, knowing the passage below would be interesting to you, I transcribe it with pleasure, and add my very sincere wish that all your hopes may be realized. "Dr. Morse's son is considered a young man of very promising talents by Mr. Allston and Mr. West and by those who have seen his paintings. We have seen him and think his modesty and apparent amiableness promise as much happiness to his friends as his talents may procure distinction for himself. He is peculiarly fortunate, not only in having Mr. Allston for an adviser and friend, but in his companion in painting, Mr. Leslie, a young man from Philadelphia highly recommended by my uncle there, and whose extreme diffidence adds to the most promising talents the patient industry and desire of improvement which are necessary to bring them to perfection. They have been drawing each other's pictures. Mr. Leslie is in the Spanish costume and Mr. Morse in Highland dress. They are in an unfinished state, but striking resemblances." This Highland lad, I hope, my dear friend, you will see, and in due time be again blessed with the interesting original. At this time the good father was sore distressed financially. He was generous to a fault and had, by endorsing notes and giving to others, crippled his own means. He says in a letter to his son dated March 21, 1812:-- "The Parkman case remains yet undecided and I know not that it ever will be. There is a strange mystery surrounding the business which I am not able to unravel. The court is now in session in Boston which is expected to decide the case. In a few days we shall be able to determine what we have to expect from this case. If we lose it, your mother and I have made up our minds to sit down contented with the loss. I trust we shall be enabled to pay our honest debts without it and to support ourselves. "As to you and your brothers, I trust, with your education, you will be able to maintain yourselves, and your parents, too, should they need it in their old age. Probably this necessity laid on you for exertion, industry, and economy in early life will be better for you in the end than to be supported by your parents. In nine cases out of ten those who begin the world with nothing are richer and more useful men in life than those who inherit a large estate.... "We have just heard from your brothers, who are well and in fine spirits. Edwards writes that he thinks of staying in New Haven another year and of pursuing _general science_, and afterwards of purchasing a plantation and becoming a planter in some one of the Southern States!! Perhaps he intends to marry some rich planter's daughter and to get his plantation and negroes in that way. This, I imagine, will be his only way to do it. "The newspapers which I shall send with this will inform you of the state of our public affairs. We have high hopes that Governor Strong will be our governor next year. I have no belief that our _war hawks_ will be able to involve the country in a war with Great Britain, nor do I believe that the President really wishes it. It is thought that all the war talk and preparations are intended to effect the reëlection of Mr. Madison. The _Henry Plot_ is a farce intended for the same purpose, but it can never be got up. It will operate against its promoters." While the father was thus writing, on March 21, of the political conditions in America from his point of view, almost at the same moment the son in England was expressing himself as follows:-- "_March 25, 1812._ With respect to politics I know very little, my time being occupied with much pleasanter subjects. I, however, can answer your question whether party spirit is conducted with such virulence here as in America. It is by no means the case, for, although it is in some few instances very violent, still, for the most part, their debates are conducted with great coolness. "As to the Prince Regent, you have, perhaps, heard how unpopular he has made himself. He has disappointed the expectations of very many. Among the most unpopular of his measures may be placed the retention of the Orders in Council, which orders, notwithstanding the declarations of Mr. Perceval [the Prime Minister] and others in the Ministry to the contrary, are fast, very fast reducing this country to ruin; and it is the opinion of some of the best politicians in this country that, should the United States either persist in the Non-Intercourse Law or declare war, this country would be reduced to the lowest extremity.[1] [Footnote 1: Orders in Council were issued by the sovereign, with the advice of the Privy Council, in periods of emergency, trusting to their future ratification by Parliament. In this case, while promulgated as a retaliatory measure against Bonaparte's Continental System, they bore heavily upon the commerce of the United States.] "Bankruptcies are daily increasing and petitions from all parts of the Kingdom, praying for the repeal of the Orders in Council, have been presented to the Prince, but he has declined hearing any of them. Also the Catholic cause remains undecided, and he refuses hearing anything on that subject. But no more of politics. I am sure you must have more than sufficient at home. "I will turn to a more pleasant subject and give you a slight history of the American artists now in London. "At the head stands Mr. West. He stands and has stood so long preëminent that I could relate but little of his history that would be new to you, so that I shall confine myself only to what has fallen under my own observation, and, of course, my remarks will be few. "As a painter Mr. West can be accused of as few faults as any artist of ancient or modern times. In his studies he has been indefatigable, and the result of those studies is a perfect knowledge of the philosophy of his art. There is not a line or a touch in his pictures which he cannot account for on philosophical principles. They are not the productions of accident, but of study. "His principal excellence is considered composition, design, and elegant grouping; and his faults were said to be a hard and harsh outline and bad coloring. These faults he has of late in a great degree amended. His outline is softer and his coloring, in some pictures in which he has attempted truth of color, is not surpassed by any artist now living, and some have even said that Titian himself did not surpass it. However that may be, his pictures of a late date are admirable even in this particular, and it evinces that, if in general he neglected that fascinating branch of art in some of his paintings, he still possesses a perfect knowledge of all its artifices. He has just completed a picture, an historical landscape, which, for clearness of coloring combined with grandeur of composition, has never been excelled. "In his private character he is unimpeachable. He is a man of tender feelings, but of a mind so noble that it soars above the slanders of his enemies, and he expresses pity rather than revenge towards those who, through wantonness or malice, plan to undermine his character. No man, perhaps, ever passed through so much abuse, and none, I am confident, ever bore up against its virulence with more nobleness of spirit, with a steady perseverance in the pursuit of the sublimest of human professions. He has travelled on heedless of the sneers, the ridicule, or the detraction of his enemies, and he has arrived at that point where the lustre of his works will not fail to illuminate the dark regions of barbarism and distaste long after their bright author has ceased to exist. "Excuse my fervor in the praise of this man. He is not a common man, not such a one as can be met with in every age. He is one of those geniuses who are doomed in their lifetime to endure the malice, the ridicule, and neglect of the world, and at their death to receive the praise and adoration of this same inconsistent world. I think there cannot be a stronger proof that human nature is always the same than that men of genius in all ages have been compelled to undergo the same disappointments and to pass through the same routine of calumny and abuse." The rest of this letter is missing, which is a great pity, as it would be interesting to read what Morse had to say of Allston, Leslie, and the others. Was it a presentiment of the calumnies and abuse to which he himself was to be subjected in after life which led him to express himself so heartily in sympathy with his master West? And was it the inspiring remembrance of his master's calm bearing under these afflictions which heartened him to maintain a noble serenity under even greater provocation? "_April 21, 1812._ I mentioned in my last letter that I should probably exceed my allowance this year by a few pounds, but I now begin to think that I shall not. I am trying every method to be economical and hope it will not be long before I shall relieve you from further expense on my account.... "With respect to politics they appear gloomy on both sides.... You may depend on it. England has injured us sorely and our Non-Intercourse is a just retaliation for those wrongs. Perhaps you will believe what is said in some of the Federal papers that that measure has no effect on this country. You may be assured the effects are great and severe; I am myself an eye-witness of the effects. The country is in a state of rebellion from literal starvation. Accounts are daily received which grow more and more alarming from the great manufacturing towns. Troops are in motion all over the country, and but last week measures were adopted by Parliament to prevent this metropolis from rising to rebellion, by ordering troops to be stationed round the city to be ready at a moment's warning. This I call an alarming period. Everybody thinks so and Mr. Perceval himself is frightened, and a committee is appointed to take into consideration the Orders in Council. Now, when you consider that I came to this country prejudiced against our government and its measures, and that I can have no bad motive in telling you these facts, you will not think hard of me when I say that I hope that our Non-Intercourse Law will be enforced with all its rigor, as I firmly believe it is the only way to bring this country to terms, and that, if persisted in, it will certainly bring them to terms. I know it must make some misery at home, but it will be followed by a corresponding happiness after it. Some of you at home, I suppose, will call me a Democrat, but facts are stubborn things, and I can't deny the truth of what I see every day before my eyes. A man to judge properly of his country must, like judging of a picture, view it at a distance." "_May 12, 1812._ I write in great haste to inform you of a dreadful event which happened here last evening, and rumors of which will probably reach you before this. Not to keep you in suspense it is no less than the _assassination of Mr. Perceval,_ the Prime Minister of Great Britain. As he was entering the House of Commons last evening a little past five o'clock, he was shot directly through the heart by a man from behind the door. He staggered forward and fell, and expired in about ten minutes.... "I have just returned from the House of Commons; there was an immense crowd assembled and very riotous. In the hall was written in large letters, 'Peace or the Head of the Regent.' This country is in a very alarming state and there is no doubt but great quantities of blood will be spilled before it is restored to order. Even while I am writing a party of Life Guards is patrolling the streets. London must soon be the scene of dreadful events. "Last night I had an opportunity of studying the public mind. It was at the theatre; the play was 'Venice Preserved; or, the Plot Discovered.' If you will take the trouble just to read the first act you will see what relation it has to the present state of affairs. When Pierre says to Jaffier, 'Cans't thou kill a Senator?' there were three cheers, and so through the whole, whenever anything was said concerning conspiracy and in favor of it, the audience applauded, and when anything was said against it they hissed. When Pierre asked the conspirators if Brutus was not a good man, the audience was in a great uproar, applauding so as to prevent for some minutes the progress of the performance. This I think shows the public mind to be in great agitation. The play of 'Venice Preserved' is not a moral play, and I should not ask you to read any part of it if I could better explain to you the feelings of the public." A few days later, on May 17, he says in a letter to his brothers:-- "The assassin Bellingham was immediately taken into custody. He was tried on Friday and condemned to be executed to-morrow morning (Monday, 18th). I shall go to the place to see the concourse of people, for to see him executed I know I could not bear." In a postscript written the day after he says:-- "I went this morning to the execution. A very violent rain prevented so great a crowd as was expected. A few minutes before eight o'clock Bellingham ascended the scaffold. He was very genteelly dressed; he bowed to the crowd, who cried out, 'God bless you,' repeatedly. I saw him draw the cap over his face and shake hands with the clergyman. I stayed no longer, but immediately turned my back and was returning home. I had taken but a few steps when the clock struck eight, and, on turning back, I saw the crowd beginning to disperse. I have felt the effects of this sight all day, and shall probably not get over it for weeks. It was a dreadful sight. There were no accidents." In spite of all these momentous occurrences, the young artist was faithfully pursuing his studies, for in this same letter to his brothers he says:-- "But enough of this; you will probably hear the whole account before this reaches you. I am wholly absorbed in the studies of my profession; it is a slow and arduous undertaking. I never knew till now the difficulties of art, and no one can duly appreciate it unless he has tried it. Difficulties, however, only increase my ardor and make me more determined than ever to conquer them. "Mr. West is very kind to me; I visit him occasionally of a morning to hear him converse on art. He appears quite attached to me, as he is, indeed, to all young American artists. It seems to give him the greatest pleasure to think that one day the arts will flourish in America. He says that Philadelphia will be the Athens of the world. That city certainly gives the greatest encouragement of any place in the United States. Boston is most backward, so, if ever I should return to America, Philadelphia or New York would probably be my place of abode. "I have just seen Mr. Stephen Van Rensselaer, who you know was at college with us, and with whom I was intimate. He was very glad to see me and calls on me every day while I am painting. He keeps his carriage and horses and is in the first circles here. I ride out occasionally with him; shall begin his portrait next week." Like a breath of fresh air, in all the heat and dust of these troublous times, comes this request from his gentle mother in a letter of May 8, 1812:-- "Miss C. Dexter requests the favor of you to take a sketch of the face of Mr. Southey and send it her. He is a favorite writer with her and she has a great desire to see the style of his countenance. If you can get it, enclose it in a genteel note to her with a brief account of him, his age and character, etc." The next letter of May 25, 1812, is from Morse to his parents. "I have told you in former letters that my lodgings are at 82 Great Titchfield Street and that my room-mate is Leslie, the young man who is so much talked of in Philadelphia. We have lived together since December and have not, as yet, had a falling out. I find his thoughts of art agree perfectly with my own. He is enthusiastic and so am I, and we have not time, scarcely, to think of anything else; everything we do has a reference to art, and all our plans are for our mutual advancement in it. Our amusements are walking, _occasionally_ attending the theatres, and the company of Mr. Allston and a few other gentlemen, consisting of three or four painters and poets. We meet by turn at each other's rooms and converse and laugh. "Mr. Allston is our most intimate friend and companion. I can't feel too grateful to Him for his attentions to me; he calls every day and superintends all we are doing. When I am at a stand and perplexed in some parts of the picture, he puts me right and encourages me to proceed by praising those parts which he thinks good, but he is faithful and always tells me when anything is bad. "It is a mortifying thing sometimes to me, when I have been painting all day very hard and begin to be pleased with what I have done, on showing it to Mr. Allston, with the expectation of praise, and not only of praise but a score of 'excellents,' 'well dones,' and 'admirables'; I say it is mortifying to hear him after a long silence say: 'Very bad, sir; that is not flesh, it is mud, sir; it is painted with brick dust and clay.' "I have felt sometimes ready to dash my palette knife through it and to feel at the moment quite angry with him; but a little reflection restores me; I see that Mr. Allston is not a flatterer but a friend, and that really to improve I must see my faults. What he says after this always puts me in good humor again. He tells me to put a few flesh tints here, a few gray ones there, and to clear up such and such a part by such and such colors. And not only that, but takes the palette and brushes and shows me how, and in this way he assists me. I think it one of the greatest blessings that I am under his eye. I don't know how many errors I might have fallen into if it had not been for his attentions.... "I am painting portraits alone at present. Our sitters are among our acquaintances. We paint them if they defray the expense of canvas and colors...." "Mama wished me to send some specimens of my painting home that you might see my improvement. The pictures that I now paint would be uninteresting to you; they consist merely of studies and drawings from plaster figures, hands and feet and such things. The portraits are taken by those for whom they are painted. I shall soon begin a portrait of myself and will try and send that to you." "_June 8, 1812._ Mama asks in one of her letters if we make our own tea. We do. The tea-kettle is brought to us boiling in the morning and evening and we make our own coffee (which, by the way, is very cheap here) and tea. We live quite in the old bachelor style. I don't know but it will be best for me to live in this style through life; my profession seems to require all my time. "Mr. Hurd will take a diploma to you, with others to different persons near Boston. I suppose it confers some title on you of consequence, as I saw at his house a great number to be sent to all parts of the world to distinguished men. I find papa is known here pretty extensively. Some one, hearing my name and that I am an American, immediately asks if I am related to you.... "The Administration is at length formed, and, to the great sorrow of everybody, the old Ministers are reelected. The Orders in Council are the subject of debate at the House of Commons this evening. It is an important crisis, though there is scarcely any hope of their repeal. If not, I sincerely hope that America will declare war. "What Lord Castlereagh said at a public meeting a few days ago ought to be known in America. Respecting the Orders in Council, when some one said unless they were repealed war with America must be the consequence, he replied that, '_if the people would but support the Ministry in those measures for a short time, America would be compelled to submit, for she was not able to go to war_.' But I say, and so does every American here who sees how things are going with this country, that, should America but declare war, before hostilities commenced Great Britain would sue for peace on any terms. Great Britain is jealous of us and would trample on us if she could, and I feel ashamed when I see her supported through everything by some of the Federal editors. I wish they could be here a few months and they would be ashamed of themselves. They are injuring their country, for it is _their_ violence that induces this Government to persist in their measures by holding out hope that the parties will change, and that then they can compel America to do anything. If America loses in this contest and softens her measures towards this country, she never need expect to hold up her head again." "_June 15, 1812._ The Queen held a drawing-room a short time since and I went to St. James's Palace to see those who attended. It was a singular sight to see the ladies and gentlemen in their court dresses. The gentlemen were dressed in buckram skirted coats without capes, long waistcoats, cocked hats, bag-wigs, swords, and large buckles on their shoes. The ladies in monstrous hoops, so that in getting into their carriages they were obliged to go edgewise. Their dresses were very rich; some ladies, I suppose, had about them to adorn them £20,000 or £30,000 worth of diamonds." "I had a sight of the Prince Regent as he passed in his splendid state carriage drawn by six horses. He is very corpulent, his features are good, but he is very red and considerably bloated. I likewise saw the Princess Charlotte of Wales, who is handsome, the Dukes of Kent, Cambridge, Clarence, and Cumberland, Admiral Duckworth, and many others. The Prince held a levee a few days since at which Mr. Van Rensselaer was presented." "I occasionally attend the theatres. At Covent Garden there is the best acting in the world; Mr. Kemble is the first tragic actor now in England; Cook was a rival and excelled him in some characters. Mrs. Siddons is the first tragic actress, perhaps, that ever lived. She is now advanced in life and is about to retire from the stage; on the 29th of this month she makes her last appearance. I must say I admire her acting very much; she is rather corpulent, but has a remarkably fine face; the Grecian character is finely portrayed in it; she excels to admiration in deep tragedy. In Mrs. Beverly, in the play of the 'Gamesters' a few nights ago, she so arrested the attention of the house that you might hear your watch tick in your fob, and, at the close of the play, when she utters an hysteric laugh for joy that her husband was not a murderer, there were different ladies in the boxes who actually went into hysterics and were obliged to be carried out of the theatre. This I think is proof of good acting. Mrs. Siddons is a woman of irreproachable character and moves in the first circles; the stage will never again see her equal. "You mustn't think because I praise the acting that I am partial to theatres. I think in a certain degree they are harmless, but, too much attended, they dissipate the mind. There is no danger of my loving them too much; I like to go once in awhile after studying hard all day. "Last night, as I was passing through Tottenham Court Road, I saw a large collection of people of the lower class making a most terrible noise by beating on something of the sounding genus. Upon going nearer and enquiring the cause, I found that a butcher had just been married, and that it is always the custom on such occasions for his brethren by trade to serenade the couple with _marrow-bones_ and _cleavers_. Perhaps you have heard of the phrase 'musical as marrow-bones and cleavers'; this is the origin of it. If you wish to experience the sound let each one in the family take a pair of tongs and a shovel, and then, standing all together, let each one try to outdo the other in noise, and this will give you some idea of it. How this custom originated I don't know. I hope it is not symbolical of the _harmony_ which is to exist between the parties married." Among those eminent Englishmen to whom young Morse had letters of introduction was Zachary Macaulay, editor of the "Christian Observer," and father of the historian. The following note from him will be found of a delightful old-time flavor:-- Mr. Macaulay presents his compliments to Mr. Morse and begs to express his regret at not having yet been so fortunate as to meet with him. Mr. Macaulay will be particularly happy if it should suit Mr. Morse to dine with him at his house at Clapham on Saturday next at five o'clock. Mr. M.'s house is five doors beyond the Plough at the entrance of Clapham Common. A coach goes daily to Clapham from the Ship at Charing Cross at a quarter past three, and several leave Grace Church Street in the City every day at four. The distance from London Bridge to Mr. Macaulay's house is about four miles. 23d June, 1812. In a letter from his mother of June 28, 1812, the anxious parent says:-- "Although we long to see you, yet we rejoice that you are so happily situated at so great a distance from our, at present, wretched, miserably distracted country, whose mad rulers are plunging us into an unnecessary war with a country that I shall always revere as doing more to spread the glorious gospel of Jesus Christ to the benighted heathen, and those that are famishing from lack of knowledge, than any other nation on the globe. Our hearts bleed at every pore to think of again being at war. We have not yet forgotten the wormwood and gall of the last revolution. "We hope you will steer clear of any of the difficulties of the contest that is about to take place. We wish you to be very prudent and guarded in all your conversation and actions and not to make yourself a party man on either side. Have your opinions, but have them to yourself, and be sure you do not commit them to paper. It may do you great injury either on one side or the other, and you are not in your present situation as a politician but as an artist." In this same letter his father adds:-- "The die is cast and our country plunged in war.... There is great opposition to it in the country. The papers, which you will have opportunity to see, will inform you of the state of parties. Your mother has given you sound advice as respects the course you should pursue. Be the _artist_ wholly and let _politics_ alone. I rejoice that you are where you are at the present time. You will do what you can without delay to support yourself, as I know not how we shall be able to procure funds to transmit to you, and, if we had them, how we could transmit them should the war continue." To this the son answers in a letter of August 6, 1812:-- "I am improving, perhaps, the last opportunity I shall have for some time to write you. Mr. Wheeler, an American, who has been here some time studying portrait painting, has kindly offered to deliver this to you. "Our political affairs, it seems, have come to a crisis, which I sincerely hope will turn to the advantage of America; it certainly will not to this country. War is an evil which no man ought to think lightly of, but, if ever it was just, it now is. The English acknowledge it, and what can be more convincing proof than the confession of an enemy? I was sorry to hear of the riotous proceedings in Boston. If they knew what an injury they were doing their country in the opinion of foreign nations, they certainly would refrain from them. I assert (because I have proof) that the Federalists in the Northern States have done more injury to their country by their violent opposition measures than even a French alliance could. Their proceedings are copied into the English papers, read before Parliament, and circulated through the country, and what do they say of them? Do they say the Federalists are patriots and are firm in asserting the rights of their country? No; they call them _cowards,_ a _base set;_ say they are traitors to their country and ought to be hanged like traitors. These things I have heard and read, and therefore must believe them. "I wish I could have a talk with you, papa; I am sure I could convince you that neither Federalists nor Democrats are Americans; that war with this country is just, and that the present Administration of our country has acted with perfect justice in all their proceedings against this country.... "To observe the contempt with which America is spoken of, and the epithets of a _'nation of cheats,' 'sprung from convicts,' 'pusillanimous,' 'cowardly,'_ and such like,--these I think are sufficient to make any true American's blood boil. These are not used by individuals only, but on the floor of the House of Commons. The good effects of our declaration of war begin to be perceived already. The tone of their public prints here is a little softer and more submissive. Not one has called in question the justice of the declaration of war; all say, 'We are in the wrong and we shall do well to get out of it as soon as possible.' "I could tell you volumes, but I have not time, and it would, perhaps, be impolitic in the present state of affairs. I only wish that among the infatuated party men I may not find my father, and I hope that he will be _neutral_ rather than oppose the war measure, for (if he will believe a son who loves him and his country better the longer and farther he is away from them) this war will reestablish that character for honor and spirit which our country has lost through the proceedings of _Federalists_. "But I will turn from this subject. My health and spirits are excellent and my love for my profession increases. I am painting a small historical piece; the subject is 'Marius in Prison,' and the soldier sent to kill him who drops his sword as Marius says, '_Durst thou kill Caius Marius?_' The historical fact you must be familiar with. I am taking great pains with it, and may possibly exhibit it in February at the British Gallery. "I never think of my situation in this country but with gratitude to you for suffering me to pursue the profession of my choice, and for making so many sacrifices to gratify me. I hope I shall always feel grateful to the best of parents and be able soon to show them I am so. In the mean time, if industry and application on my part can make them happy, be assured I shall use my best endeavors to be industrious, and in any other way to give them comfort. One of my greatest blessings here is Mr. Allston. He is like a brother to me, and not only is a most agreeable and entertaining companion, but he has been the means of giving me more knowledge (practical as well as theoretical) in my art than I could have acquired by myself in three years. "In whatever circumstance I am, Mr. Allston I shall esteem as one of my best and most intimate friends, and in whatever I can assist him or his I shall feel proud in being able to do it. "Mr. and Mrs. Allston are well. I dined with them yesterday at Captain Visscher's, whom I have mentioned to you before as one of our passengers. He is very attentive to us, visits us constantly, and is making us presents of various kinds every day, such as half a dozen best Madeira, etc. He came out here with his lady to take possession of a fortune of £80,000 and was immensely rich before, having married Miss Van Rensselaer of Albany." CHAPTER V SEPTEMBER 20, 1812--JUNE 13, 1813 Models the "Dying Hercules."--Dreams of greatness.--Again expresses gratitude to his parents.--Begins painting of "Dying Hercules."--Letter from Jeremiah Evarts.--Morse upholds righteousness of the war.--Henry Thornton.--Political discussions.-- Gilbert Stuart.--William Wilberforce.--James Wynne's reminiscences of Morse, Coleridge, Leslie, Allston, and Dr. Abernethy.--Letters from his mother and brother.--Letters from friends on the state of the fine arts in America.--"The Dying Hercules" exhibited at the Royal Academy.-- Expenses of painting.--Receives Adelphi Gold Medal for statuette of Hercules.--Mr. Dunlap's reminiscences.--Critics praise "Dying Hercules." The young artist's letters to his parents at this period are filled with patriotic sentiments, and he writes many pages descriptive of the state of affairs in England and of the effects of the war on that country. He strongly upholds the justice of that war and pleads with his parents and brothers to take his view of the matter. They, on the other hand, strongly disapprove of the American Administration's position and of the war, and are inclined to censure and to laugh at the enthusiastic young man's heroics. As we are more concerned with Morse's career as an artist than with his political sentiments, and as these latter, I fear, had no influence on the course of international events, I shall quote but sparingly from that portion of the correspondence, just enough to show that, whatever cause he espoused, then, and at all times during his long life, he threw himself into it heart and soul, and thoroughly believed in its righteousness. He was absolutely sincere, although he may sometimes have been mistaken. In a letter dated September 20, 1812, he says:-- "I have just finished a model in clay of a figure (the 'Dying Hercules'), my first attempt at sculpture. Mr. Allston is extremely pleased with it; he says it is better than all the things I have done since I have been in England put together, and says I must send a cast of it home to you, and that it will convince you that I shall make a painter. He says also that he will write to his friends in Boston to call on you and see it when I send it. "Mr. West also was extremely delighted with it. He said it was not merely an academical figure, but displayed mind and thought. He could not have made me a higher compliment. "Mr. West would write you, but he has been disabled from painting or writing for a long time with the gout in his right hand. This is a great trial to him. "I am anxious to send you something to show you that I have not been idle since I have been here. My passion for my art is so firmly rooted that I am confident no human power could destroy it. [And yet, as we shall see later on, human injustice so discouraged him that he dropped the brush forever.] "The more I study it, the greater I think is its claim to the appellation of '_divine_' and I never shall be able sufficiently to show my gratitude to my parents for their indulgence in so greatly enabling me to pursue that profession, without which I am sure I would be miserable. If ever it is my destiny to become great and worthy of a biographical memoir, my biographer will never be able to charge upon my parents that bigoted attachment to any individual profession, the exercise of which spirit by parents toward their children has been the ruin of some of the greatest geniuses; and the biography of men of genius has too often contained that reflection on their parents. If ever the contrary spirit was evident, it has certainly been shown by my parents towards me. Indeed, they have been almost too indulgent; they have watched every change of my capricious inclinations, and seem to have made it an object to study them with the greatest fondness. But I think they will say that, when my desire for change did cease, it always settled on painting. "I hope that one day my success in my profession will reward you, in some measure, for the trouble and inconvenience I have so long put you to. "I am now going to begin a picture of the death of Hercules from this figure, as large as life. The figure I shall send to you as soon as it is practicable, and also one of the same to Philadelphia, if possible in time for the next exhibition in May. "I have enjoyed excellent health and spirits and am perfectly contented. The war between the two countries has not been productive of any measures against resident American citizens. I hope it will produce a good effect towards both countries." He adds in a postscript that he has removed from 82 Great Titchfield Street to No. 8 Buckingham Place, Fitzroy Square. The following extract from a letter to Morse written by his friend, Mr. Jeremiah Evarts, father of William M. Evarts, dated Charlestown, October 7, 1812, is interesting:-- "I am happy that you are so industriously and prosperously engaged in the prosecution of your profession. I hope you will let politics entirely alone for many reasons, not the least of which is a regard to the internal tranquillity of your own mind. I never yet knew a man made happy by studying politics; nor useful, unless he has great duties to perform as a citizen. You will receive this advice, I know, with your accustomed good nature." The next letter, dated November 1, 1812, is a very long one, over eighteen large pages, and is an impassioned appeal to his father to look at the war from the son's point of view. I shall quote only a few sentences. "Your last letter was of October 2, via Halifax, accompanying your sermon on Fast Day. The letter gave me great pleasure, but I must confess that the sentiments in the sermon appeared very _strange_ to me, knowing what I, as well as every American here does, respecting the causes of the present war.... 'Tis the character of Englishmen to be haughty, proud, and overbearing. If this conduct meets with no resistance, their treatment becomes more imperious, and the more submissive and conciliating is the object of their imperiousness, the more tyrannical are they towards it. This has been their uniform treatment towards us, and this character pervades all ranks of society, whether in public or private life. "The only way to please John Bull is to give him a good beating, and, such is the singularity of his character that, the more you beat him, the greater is his respect for you, and the more he will esteem you.... "If, after all I have now written, you still think that this war is unjust, and think it worth the trouble in order to ascertain the truth, I wish papa would take a trip across the Atlantic. If he is not convinced of the truth of what I have written in less than two months, I will agree to support myself all the time I am in England after this date, and never be a farthing's more expense to you.... I was glad to hear that Cousin Samuel Breese is in the navy. I really envy him very much. I hope one day, as a painter, I may be able to hand him down to posterity as an American Nelson.... As to my letters of introduction, I find that a painter and a visitor cannot be united. Were I to deliver my letters the acquaintance could not be kept up, and the bare thought of encountering the English reserve is enough to deter any one.... This objection, however, might be got over did it not take up so much time. Every moment is precious to me now. I don't know how soon I may be obliged to return home for want of means to support me; for the difficulties which are increasing in this country take off the attention of the people from the fine arts, and they withhold that patronage from young artists which they would, from their liberality, in other circumstances freely bestow.... "You mention that some of the Ralston family are in Boston on a visit, and that Mr. Codman is attached to Eliza. Once in my life, you know, if you had told me this and I had been a very bloody-minded young man, who knows but Mr. Codman might have been challenged. But I suppose he takes advantage of my being in England. If it is as you say, I am very happy to hear it, for Elizabeth is a girl whom I very much esteem, and there is no doubt that she will make an excellent wife." In a letter from his mother of July 6, 1818, she thus reassures him: "Mr. Codman is married. He married a Miss Wheeler, of Newburyport, so you will have no need of challenging him on account of Eliza Ralston." In a postscript to the letter of November 1, Morse adds:-- "I have just read the political parts of this letter to my good friend Mr. A----n, and he not only approves of the sentiments in it, but pays me a compliment by saying that I have expressed the truth and nothing but the truth in a very clear and proper manner, and hopes it may do good." Among young Morse's friends in England at that time was Henry Thornton, philanthropist and member of Parliament. In a letter to his parents of January 1, 1813, he says:-- "Last Thursday week I received a very polite invitation from Henry Thornton, Esq., to dine with him, which I accepted. I had no introduction to him, but, hearing that your son was in the country, he found me out and has shown me every attention. He is a very pleasant, sensible man, but his character is too well known to you to need any eulogium from me. "At his table was a son of Mr. Stephen, who was the author of the odious Orders in Council. Mr. Thornton asked me at table if I thought that, if the Orders in Council had been repealed a month or two sooner, it would not have prevented the war. I told him I thought it would, at which he was much pleased, and, turning to Mr. Stephen, he said: 'Do you hear that, Mr. Stephen? I always told you so.' "Last Wednesday I dined at Mr. Wilberforce's. I was extremely pleased with him. At his house I met Mr. Grant and Mr. Thornton, members of Parliament. In the course of conversation they introduced America, and Mr. Wilberforce regretted the war extremely; he said it was like two of the same family quarrelling; that he thought it a judgment on this country for its wickedness, and that they had been justly punished for their arrogance and insolence at sea, as well as the Americans for their vaunting on land. "As Mr. Thornton was going he invited me to spend a day or two at his seat at Clapham, a few miles out of town. I accordingly went and was very civilly treated. The _reserve_ which I mentioned in a former letter was evident, however, here, and I felt a degree of embarrassment arising from it which I never felt in America. The second day I was a little more at my ease. "At dinner were the two sons of the Mr. Grant I mentioned above. They are, perhaps, the most promising young men in the country, and you may possibly one day hear of them as at the head of the nation. [One of these young men was afterwards raised to the peerage as Lord Glenelg.] "After dinner I got into conversation with them and with Mr. Thornton, when America again became the topic. They asked me a great many questions respecting America which I answered to the best of my ability. They at length asked me if I did not think that the ruling party in America was very much under French influence. I replied 'No'; that I believed on the contrary that nine tenths of the American people were prepossessed strongly in favor of this country. As a proof I urged the universal prevalence of English fashions in preference to French, and English manners and customs; the universal rejoicings on the success of the English over the French; the marked attention shown to English travellers and visitors; the neglect with which they treated their own literary productions on account of the strong prejudice in favor of English works; that everything, in short, was enhanced in its value by having attached to it the name English. "On the other hand, I told them that the French were a people almost universally despised in America, and by at least one half hated. As in England, they were esteemed the common enemies of mankind; that French fashions were discountenanced and loathed; that a Frenchman was considered as a man always to be suspected; that young men were forbidden by their parents, in many instances, to associate with them, they considering their company and habits as tending to subvert their morals, and to render them frivolous and insincere. I added that in America as well as everywhere else there were bad men, men of no principles, whose consciences never stand in the way of their ambition or avarice; but that I firmly believed that, as a body, the American Congress was as pure from corruption and foreign influence as any body of men in the world. They were much pleased with what I told them, and acknowledged that America and American visitors generally had been treated with too much contempt and neglect. "In the course of the day I asked Mr. Thornton what were the objects that the English Government had in view when they laid the Orders in Council. He told me in direct terms, '_the Universal monopoly of Commerce_'; that they had long desired an excuse for such measures as the Orders in Council, and that the French decrees were exactly what they wished, and the opportunity was seized with avidity the moment it was offered. They knew that the Orders in Council bore hard upon the Americans, but they considered that as merely _incidental_. "To this I replied that, if such was the case as he represented it, what blame could be attached to the American Government for declaring war? He said that it was urged that America ought to have considered the circumstances of the case, and that Great Britain was fighting for the liberties of the world; that America was, in a great degree, interested in the decision of the contest, and that she ought to be content to suffer a little. "I told him that England had no right whatever to infringe on the neutrality of America, or to expect because she (England) supposed herself to have justice on her side in the contest with France, that, of course, the Americans should think the same. The moment America declared this opinion her neutrality ceased. 'Besides,' said I, 'how can they have the face to make such a declaration when you just now said that their object was universal monopoly, and they longed for an excuse to adopt measures to that end?' I told him that it showed that all the noise about England's fighting for the liberties of mankind proved to be but a thirst, a selfish desire for _universal monopoly_. "This he said seemed to be the case; he could not deny it. He was going on to observe something respecting the French decrees when we were interrupted, and I have not been able again to resume the conversation. I returned to town with him shortly after in his carriage, where, as there were strangers, I could not introduce it again." After this follow two long pages giving further reasons for the stand he has taken, which I shall not include, only quoting the following sentences towards the end of the letter:-- "You will have heard before this arrives of the glorious news from Russia. Bonaparte is for once _defeated_, and will probably never again recover from it. "My regards to Mr. Stuart [Gilbert Stuart]. I feel quite flattered at his remembrance of me. Tell him that, by coming to England, I know how more justly to appreciate his great merits. There is really no one in England who equals him. "Accompanying this are some newspapers, some of Cobbett's, a man of no principle and a great rascal, yet a man of sense and says many good things." I have quoted at length from this letter in order that we may gain a clearer insight into the character of the man. While in no wise neglecting his main objects in life, he yet could not help taking a deep interest in public affairs. He was frank and outspoken in his opinions, but courteous withal. He abhorred hypocrisy and vice and was unsparing in his condemnation of both. He enjoyed a controversy and was quick to discover the weak points in his opponent's arguments and to make the most of them. These characteristics he carried with him through life, becoming, however, broader-minded and more tolerant as he grew in years and experience. Morse's father had given him many letters of introduction to eminent men in England. Most of these he neglected to deliver, pleading in extenuation of his apparent carelessness that he could not spare the time from his artistic studies to fulfill all the duties that would be expected of him in society, and that he also could not afford the expenses necessary to a well-dressed man. The following note from William Wilberforce explains itself, but there seems to be some confusion of dates, for Morse had just said in his letter of January 1st that he dined at Mr. Wilberforce's over a week before. KENSINGTON GORE, January 4, 1813. SIR,--I cannot help entertaining some apprehension of my not having received some letter or some card which you may have done me the favor of leaving at my house. Be this, however, as it may, I gladly avail myself of the sanction of a letter from your father for introducing myself to you; and, as many calls are mere matters of form, I take the liberty of begging the favor of your company at dinner on Wednesday next, at a quarter before five o'clock, at Kensington Gore (one mile from Hyde Park corner), and of thereby securing the pleasure of an acquaintance with you. The high respect which I have always entertained for your father, in addition to the many obliging marks of attention which I have received from him, render me desirous of becoming personally known to you, and enable me with truth to assure you I am, with good will, sir, Your faithful servant, W. WILBERFORCE. Among Morse's friends in London during the period of his student years, were Coleridge, Rogers, Lamb, and others whose names are familiar ones in the literary world. While the letters of those days give only hints of the delightful intercourse between these congenial souls, the recollection of them was enshrined in the memory of some of their contemporaries, and the following reminiscences, preserved by Mr. James Wynne and recorded by Mr. Prune in his biography, will be found interesting:-- "Coleridge, who was a visitor at the rooms of Leslie and Morse, frequently made his appearance under the influence of those fits of despondency to which he was subject. On these occasions, by a preconcerted plan, they often drew him from this state to one of brilliant imagination. "'I was just wishing to see you,' said Morse on one of these occasions when Coleridge entered with a hesitating step, and replied to their frank salutations with a gloomy aspect and deep-drawn sighs. 'Leslie and myself have had a dispute about certain lines of beauty; which is right?' And then each argued with the other for a few moments until Coleridge became interested, and, rousing from his fit of despondency, spoke with an eloquence and depth of metaphysical reasoning on the subject far beyond the comprehension of his auditors. Their point, however, was gained, and Coleridge was again the eloquent, the profound, the gifted being which his remarkable productions show him to be. "'On one occasion,' said Morse, 'I heard him improvise for half an hour in blank verse what he stated to be a strange dream, which was full of those wonderful creations that glitter like diamonds in his poetical productions.' 'All of which,' remarked I, 'is undoubtedly lost to the world.' 'Not all,' replied Mr. Morse, 'for I recognize in the "Ancient Mariner" some of the thoughts of that evening; but doubtless the greater part, which would have made the reputation of any other man, perished with the moment of inspiration, never again to be recalled.' "When his tragedy of 'Remorse,' which had a run of twenty-one nights, was first brought out, Washington Allston, Charles King, Leslie, Lamb, Morse, and Coleridge went together to witness the performance. They occupied a box near the stage, and each of the party was as much interested in its success as Coleridge himself. "The effect of the frequent applause upon Coleridge was very manifest, but when, at the end of the piece, he was called for by the audience, the intensity of his emotions was such as none but one gifted with the fine sensibilities of a poet could experience. Fortunately the audience was satisfied with a mere presentation of himself. His emotions would have precluded the idea of his speaking on such an occasion. "Allston soon after this became so much out of health that he thought a change of air and a short residence in the country might relieve him. He accordingly set out on his journey accompanied by Leslie and Morse. "When he reached Salt Hill, near Oxford, he became so ill as to be unable to proceed, and requested Morse to return to town for his medical attendant, Dr. Tuthill, and Coleridge, to whom he was ardently attached. "Morse accordingly returned, and, procuring a post-chaise, immediately set out for Salt Hill, a distance of twenty-two miles, accompanied by Coleridge and Dr. Tuthill. "They arrived late in the evening and were busied with Allston until midnight, when he became easier, and Morse and Coleridge left him for the night. "Upon repairing to the sitting-room of the hotel Morse opened Knickerbocker's 'History of New York,' which he had thrown into the carriage before leaving town. Coleridge asked him what work he had. "'Oh,' replied he, 'it is only an American book.' "'Let me see it,' said Coleridge. "He accordingly handed it to him, and Coleridge was soon buried in its pages. Mr. Morse, overcome by the fatigues of the day, soon after retired to his chamber and fell asleep. "On awakening next morning he repaired to the sitting-room, when what was his astonishment to find it still closed, with the lights burning, and Coleridge busy with the book he had lent him the previous night. "'Why, Coleridge,' said he, approaching him, 'have you been reading the whole night?' "'Why,' remarked Coleridge abstractedly, 'it is not late.' "Morse replied by throwing open the blinds and permitting the broad daylight, for it was now ten o'clock, to stream in upon them. "'Indeed,' said Coleridge, 'I had no conception of this; but the work has pleased me exceedingly. It is admirably written; pray, who is its author?' "He was informed that it was the production of Washington Irving. It is needless to say that, during the long residence of Irving in London, they became warm friends. "At this period Mr. Abernethy was in the full tide of his popularity as a surgeon, and Allston, who had for some little time had a grumbling pain in his thigh, proposed to Morse to accompany him to the house of the distinguished surgeon to consult him on the cause of the ailment. "As Allston had his hand on the bell-pull, the door was opened and a visitor passed out, immediately followed by a coarse-looking person with a large, shaggy head of hair, whom Allston at once took for a domestic. He accordingly enquired if Mr. Abernethy was in. "'What do you want of Mr. Abernethy?' demanded this uncouth-looking person with the harshest possible Scotch accent. "'I wished to see him,' gently replied Allston, somewhat shocked by the coarseness of his reception. 'Is he at home?' "'Come in, come in, mon,' said the same uncouth personage. "'But he may be engaged,' responded Allston. 'Perhaps I had better call another time.' "'Come in, mon, I say,' replied the person addressed; and, partly by persuasion and partly by force, Allston, followed by Morse, was induced to enter the hall, which they had no sooner done than the person who admitted them closed the street door, and, placing his back against it, said:-- "'Now, tell me what is your business with Mr. Abernethy. I am Mr. Abernethy.' "'I have come to consult you,' replied Allston, 'about an affection--' "'What the de'il hae I to do with your affections?' bluntly interposed Abernethy. "'Perhaps, Mr. Abernethy,' said Allston, by this time so completely overcome by the apparent rudeness of the eminent surgeon as to regret calling on him at all, 'you are engaged at present, and I had better call again.' "'De'il the bit, de'il the bit, mon,' said Abernethy. 'Come in, come in.' And he preceded them to his office, and examined his case, which proved to be a slight one, with such gentleness as almost to lead them to doubt whether Abernethy within his consulting-room, and Abernethy whom they had encountered in the passage, was really the same personage." While Morse was enjoying all these new experiences in England, the good people at home were jogging along in their accustomed ruts, but were deeply interested in the doings of the absent son and brother. His mother writes on January 11, 1813:-- "Your letters are read with great pleasure by your acquaintance. I do not show those in which you say anything on _politics,_ as I do not approve your _change_, and think it would only prejudice others. For that reason I do not wish you to write on that subject, as I love to read all your observations to your friends. "We cannot get Edwards to be a ladies' man at all. He will not visit among the young ladies; he is as old as fifty, at least." This same youthful misogynist and philosopher also writes to his brother on January 11: "I intend soon writing another letter in which I shall prove to your satisfaction that poetry is much superior to painting. You asserted the contrary in one of your letters, and brought an argument to prove it. I shall show the fallacy of that argument, and bring those to support my doctrine which are incontrovertible." A letter from his friend, Mrs. Jarvis, the sister of his erstwhile flame, Miss Jannette Hart, informs him of the marriage of another sister to Captain Hull of the navy, commander of the Constitution. In this letter, written on March 4, 1813, at Bloomingdale, New York City, Mrs. Jarvis says:-- "I am in general proud of the spirit of my countrymen, but there is too little attention paid to the fine arts, to men of taste and science. Man here is weighed by his purse, not by his mind, and, according to the preponderance of that, he rises or sinks in the scale of individual opinion. A fine painting or marble statue is very rare in the houses of the rich of this city, and those individuals who would not pay fifty pounds for either, expend double that sum to vie with a neighbor in a piece of furniture. "But do not tell tales. I would not say this to an Englishman, and I trust you have not yet become one. This, however, is poor encouragement for you to return to your native country. I hope better things of that country before you may return." A friend in Philadelphia writes to him on May 3, 1813:-- "Your favor I received from the hands of Mr. King, and have been very much gratified with the introduction it afforded me to this worthy gentleman. You have doubtless heard of his safe arrival in our city, and of his having commenced his career in America, where, I am sorry to say, the arts are not, as yet, so much patronized as I hope to see them. Those of us who love them are too poor, and those who are wealthy regard them but little. I think, however, I have already witnessed an improvement in this respect, and the rich merchants and professional men are becoming more and more liberal in their patronage of genius, when they find it among native Americans. "From the favorable circumstances under which your studies are progressing; from the unrivalled talents of the gentleman who conducts them; and, without flattery, suffer me to add, from the early proofs of your own genius, I anticipate, in common with many of our fellow citizens, the addition of one artist to our present roll whose name shall stand high among those of American painters. "In your companion Leslie we also calculate on a very distinguished character. "Our Academy of Fine Arts has begun the all-important study of the live figure. Mr. Sully, Mr. Peale, Mr. Fainnan, Mr. King, and several others have devoted much attention to this branch of the school, and I hope to see it in their hands highly useful and improving. "The last annual exhibition was very splendid _for us_. Some very capital landscapes were produced, many admirable portraits and one or two historical pictures. "The most conspicuous paintings were Mr. Peale's picture of the 'Roman Charity' (or, if you please, the 'Grecian Daughter,' for Murphy has it so), and Mr. Sully's 'Lady of the Lake.'" In a letter of May 30, 1818, to a friend, Morse says:-- "You ask in your letter what books I read and what I am painting. The little time that I can spare from painting I employ in reading and studying the old poets, Spenser, Chaucer, Dante, Tasso, etc. These are necessary to a painter. "As to painting, I have just finished a large picture, eight feet by six feet six inches, the subject, the 'Death of Hercules,' which is now in the Royal Academy Exhibition at Somerset House. I have been flattered by the newspapers which seldom praise young artists, and they do me the honor to say that my picture, with that of another young man by the name of Monroe, form a distinguishing trait in this year's exhibition.... "This praise I consider much exaggerated. Mr. West, however, who saw it as soon as I had finished it, paid me many compliments, and told me that, were I to live to his age, I should never make a better composition. This I consider but a compliment and as meant only to encourage me, and as such I receive it. "I mention these circumstances merely to show that I am getting along as well as can be expected, and, if any credit attaches to me, I willingly resign it to my country, and feel happy that I can contribute a mite to her honor. "The American character stands high in this country as to the production of artists, but in nothing else (except, indeed, I may now say _bravery_). Mr. West now stands at the head, and has stood ever since the arts began to flourish in this country, which is only about fifty years. Mr. Copley next, then Colonel Trumbull. Stuart in America has no rival here. As these are now old men and going off the stage, Mr. Allston succeeds in the prime of life, and will, in the opinion of the greatest connoisseurs in this country, carry the art to greater perfection than it ever has been carried either in ancient or modern times.... After him is a young man from Philadelphia by the name of Leslie, who is my room-mate." How fallible is contemporary judgment on the claims of so-called genius to immortality. "For many are called, but few are chosen." In another letter to his parents written about this time, after telling of his economies in order to make the money, advanced so cheerfully but at the cost of so much self-sacrifice on their part, last as long as possible, he adds: "My greatest expense, next to _living_, is for canvas, frames, colors, etc., and visiting galleries. The frame of my large picture, which I have just finished, cost nearly twenty pounds, besides the canvas and colors, which cost nearly eight pounds more, and the frame was the cheapest I could possibly get. Mr. Allston's frame cost him sixty guineas. "Frames are very expensive things, and, on that account, I shall not attempt another large picture for some time, although Mr. West advises me to paint _large_ as much as possible. "The picture which I have finished is 'The Death of Hercules'; the size is eight feet by six feet six inches. This picture I showed to Mr. West a few weeks ago, and he was extremely pleased with it and paid me very many high compliments; but as praise comes better from another than from one's self, I shall send you a complimentary note which Mr. West has promised to send me on the occasion. "I sent the picture to the Exhibition at Somerset House which opens on the 3d of May, and have the satisfaction not only of having it received, but of having the praises of the council who decide on the admission of pictures. Six hundred were refused admission this year, so you may suppose that a picture (of the size of mine, too) must possess some merit to be received in preference to six hundred. A small picture may be received even if it is not very good, because it will serve to fill up some little space which would otherwise be empty, but a large one, from its excluding many smaller ones, must possess a great deal in its favor in order to be received. "If you recollect I told you I had completed a model of a single figure of the same subject. This I sent to the Society of Arts at the Adelphi, to stand for the prize (which is offered every year for the best performance in painting, sculpture, and architecture and is a _gold medal_). "Yesterday I received the note accompanying this, by which you will see that it is adjudged to me in sculpture this year. It will be delivered to me in public on the 13th of May or June, I don't know which, but I shall give you a particular account of the whole process as soon as I have received it.... I cannot close this letter without telling you how much I am indebted to that excellent man Mr. Allston. He is extremely partial to me and has often told me that he is proud of calling me his pupil. He visits me every evening and our conversation is generally upon the inexhaustible subject of our divine art, and upon _home_ which is next in our thoughts. "I know not in what terms to speak of Mr. Allston. I can truly say I do not know the slightest imperfection in him. He is amiable, affectionate, learned, possessed of the greatest powers of mind and genius, modest, unassuming, and, above all, a religious man.... I could write a quire of paper in his praise, but all I could say of him would give you but a very imperfect idea of him.... "You must recollect, when you tell friends that I am studying in England, that I am a pupil of Allston and not Mr. West. They will not long ask who Mr. Allston is; he will very soon astonish the world. He claims me as his pupil, and told me a day or two since, in a jocose manner, that he should have a battle with Mr. West unless he gave up all pretension to me." We gain further information concerning Morse's first triumphs, his painting and his statuette from the following reminiscences of a friend, Mr. Dunlap:-- "It was about the year 1812 that Allston commenced his celebrated picture of the 'Dead Man restored to Life by touching the Bones of Elisha,' which is now in the Pennsylvania Academy of Arts. In the study of this picture he made a model in clay of the head of the dead man to assist him in painting the expression. This was the practice of the most eminent old masters. Morse had begun a large picture to come out before the British public at the Royal Academy Exhibition. The subject was the 'Dying Hercules,' and, in order to paint it with the more effect, he followed the example of Allston and determined to model the figure in clay. It was his first attempt at modelling. "His original intention was simply to complete such parts of the figure as were useful in the single view necessary for the purpose of painting; but, having done this, he was encouraged, by the approbation of Allston and other artists, to finish the entire figure. "After completing it, he had it cast in plaster of Paris and carried it to show to West, who seemed more than pleased with it. After surveying it all round critically, with many exclamations of surprise, he sent his servant to call his son Raphael. As soon as Raphael made his appearance West pointed to the figure and said: 'Look there, sir; I have always told you any painter can make a sculptor.' "From this model Morse painted his picture of the 'Dying Hercules,' of colossal size, and sent it, in May, 1813, to the Royal Academy Exhibition at Somerset House." The picture was well received. A critic of one of the journals of that day in speaking of the Royal Academy thus notices Morse:-- "Of the academicians two or three have distinguished themselves in a preëminent degree; besides, few have added much to their fame, perhaps they have hardly sustained it. But the great feature in this exhibition is that it presents several works of very high merit by artists with whose performances, and even with whose names, we were hitherto unacquainted. At the head of this class are Messrs. Monroe and Morse. The prize of history may be contended for by Mr. Northcote and Mr. Stothard. We should award it to the former. After these gentlemen Messrs. Hilton, Turner, Lane, Monroe, and Morse follow in the same class." (London "Globe," May 14, 1813.) [Illustration: THE DYING HERCULES Painted by Morse in 1813] In commemorating the "preëminent works of this exhibition," out of nearly two thousand pictures, this critic places the "Dying Hercules" among the first twelve. On June 13, 1813, Morse thus writes to his parents:-- "I send by this opportunity (Mr. Elisha Goddard) the little cast of the Hercules which obtained the prize this year at the Adelphi, and also the gold medal, which was the premium presented to me, before a large assembly of the nobility and gentry of the country, by the Duke of Norfolk, who also paid me a handsome compliment at the same time. "There were present Lord Percy, the Margravine of Anspach, the Turkish, Sardinian, and Russian Ambassadors, who were pointed out to me, and many noblemen whom I do not now recollect. "My great picture also has not only been received at the Royal Academy, but has one of the finest places in the rooms. It has been spoken of in the papers, which you must know is considered a great compliment; for a young artist, unless extraordinary, is seldom or never mentioned till he has exhibited several times. They not only praise me, but place my picture among the most attractive in the exhibition. This I know will give you pleasure." CHAPTER VI JULY 10, 1813--APRIL 6, 1814 Letter from the father on economies and political views.--Morse deprecates lack of spirit in New England and rejoices at Wellington's victories.--Allston's poems.--Morse coat-of-arms.--Letter of Joseph Hillhouse.--Letter of exhortation from his mother.--Morse wishes to stay longer in Europe.--Amused at mother's political views.--The father sends more money for a longer stay.--Sidney exalts poetry above painting.--His mother warns him against infidels and actors.--Bristol.--Optimism.-- Letter on infidels and his own religious observances.--Future of American art.--He is in good health, but thin.--Letter from Mr. Visger.--Benjamin Burritt, American prisoner.--Efforts in his behalf unsuccessful.--Capture of Paris by the Allies.--Again expresses gratitude to parents.--Writes a play for Charles Mathews.--Not produced. The detailed accounts of his economies which the young man sent home to his parents seem to have deeply touched them, for on July 10, 1813, his father writes to him: "Your economy, industry, and success in pursuing your professional studies give your affectionate parents the highest gratification and reward. We wish you to avoid carrying your economy to an _extreme_. Let your appearance be suited to the respectable company you keep, and your living such as will conduce most effectually to preserve health of body and vigor of mind. We shall all be willing to make sacrifices at home so far as may be necessary to the above purposes." Farther on in this same letter the father says: "The character you give of Mr. Allston is, indeed, an exalted one, and we believe it correctly drawn. Your ardor has given it a high coloring, but the excess is that of an affectionate and grateful heart." Referring to his son's political views, he answers in these broad-minded words:-- "I approve your love of your country and concern for its honor. Your errors, as we think them, appear to be the errors of a fair and honest mind, and are of a kind to be effectually cured by correct information of facts on both sides. "Probably we may err because we are ignorant of many things which have fallen under your notice. We shall no doubt agree when we shall have opportunity to compare notes, and each is made acquainted with all that the other knows. I confidently expect an honorable peace in the course of six months, but may be deceived, as the future course of things cannot be foreseen. "The present is one of the finest and most promising seasons I ever knew; the harvest to appearance will be very abundant. Heaven appears to be rewarding this part of the country for their conduct in opposing the present war." Perhaps the good father did not mean to be malicious, but this is rather a wicked little thrust at the son's vehemently expressed political views. On this very same date, July 10, 1813, Morse writes to his parents:-- "I have just heard of the unfortunate capture of the Chesapeake. Is our infant Hercules to be strangled at his birth? Where is the spirit of former times which kindled in the hearts of the Bostonians? Will they still be unmoved, or must they learn from more bitter experience that Britain is not for peace, and that the only way to procure it is to join heart and hand in a vigorous prosecution of the war? "It is not the time now to think of party; the country is in danger; but I hope to hear soon that the honor of our navy is retrieved. The brave Captain Lawrence will never, I am sure, be forgotten; his career of glory has been short but brilliant. "All is rejoicing here; illuminations and fireworks and _feux de joie_ for the capture of the Chesapeake and a victory in Spain. "Imagine yourself, if possible, in my situation in an enemy's country and hearing songs of triumph and exultation on the misfortunes of my countrymen, and this, too, on the 4th of July. A less ardent spirit than mine might perhaps tolerate it, but I cannot. I do long to be at home, to be in the navy, and teach these insolent Englishmen how to respect us.... "The Marquis Wellington has achieved a great victory in Spain, and bids fair to drive the French out very soon. At this I rejoice as ought every man who abhors tyranny and loves liberty. I wish the British success against everything but _my country_. I often say with Cowper: 'England, with all thy faults, I love thee still.' "I am longing for Edwards' comparison between poetry and painting, and to know how he will prove the former superior to the latter. A painter _must_ be a poet, but a poet need not be a painter. How will he get over this argument? "By the way, Mr. Allston has just published a volume of poems, a copy of which I will endeavor to send you. They are but just published, so that the opinion of the public is not yet ascertained, but there is no doubt they will forever put at rest the calumny that America has never produced a poet. "I have lately been enquiring for the coat-of-arms which belongs to the Morse family. For this purpose I wish to know from what part of this Kingdom the Morses emigrated, and if you can recollect anything that belongs to the arms. If you will answer these questions minutely, I can, for half a crown, ascertain the arms and crest which belong to the family, which (as there is a degree of importance attached to heraldry in this country) may be well to know. I have seen the arms of one Morse which have been in the family three hundred years. So we can trace our antiquity as far as any family." A letter from a college-mate, Mr. Joseph Hillhouse, written in Boston on July 12, 1813, gives a pretty picture of Morse's home, and contains some quaint gossip which I shall transcribe:-- "On Saturday afternoon the beauty of the weather invited my cousin Catherine Borland, my sister Mary (who is here on a visit), and myself to take a walk over to Charlestown for the purpose of paying a visit to your good parents. We found them just preparing tea, and at once concluded to join the family party. "Present to the eye of your fancy the closing-in of a fine, blue-skied, sunny American Saturday evening, whose tranquillity and repose rendered it the fit precursor of the Sabbath. Imagine the tea-table placed in your sitting-parlor, all the windows open, and round it, first, the housekeeper pouring out tea; next her, Miss C. Borland; next her, your mother, whose looks spoke love as often as you were mentioned, and that was not infrequently, I assure you. On your mother's right sat my sister, next whom was your father in his long green-striped study gown, his apostolic smile responding to the eye of your mother when his dear son was his theme. I was placed (and an honorable post I considered it) at his right hand. "There the scene for you. Can you paint it? Neither of your brothers was at home.... "In home news we have little variety. The sister of your quondam flame, Miss Ann Hart, bestowed her hand last winter on Victory as personified in our little fat captain, Isaac Hull, who is now reposing in the shade of his laurels, and amusing himself in directing the construction of a seventy-four at Portsmouth. Where the fair excellence, Miss Jannette herself, is at present, I am unable to say. The sunshine of her eyes has not beamed upon me since I beheld you delightedly and gallantly figuring at her side at Daddy Value's ball, where I exhibited sundry feats of the same sort myself. "By the way, Mons. V. is still in fiddling condition, and the immaculate Ann Jane Caroline Gibbs, Madame, has bestowed a subject on the state!! "A fortnight since your friend Nancy Goodrich was married to William Ellsworth. Emily Webster is soon to plight her faith to his brother Henry. Miss Mary Ann Woolsey thinks of consummating the blessedness of a Mr. Scarborough before the expiration of the summer. He is a widower of thirty or thirty-five with one child, a little girl four or five years old. "Thus, you see, my dear friend, all here seem to be setting their faces heavenward; all seem ambitious of repairing the ravages of war.... "P.S. Oh! horrid mistake I made on the preceding page! Nancy and Emily, on my knees I deprecate your wrath!! I have substituted William for Henry and Henry for William. No, Henry is Nancy's and William Emily's. They are twins, and I, forsooth, must make them changelings!" In a letter of July 30, 1813, his mother thus exhorts him:-- "I hope, my dear son, your success in your profession will not have a tendency to make you vain, or embolden you to look down on any in your profession whom Providence may have been less favorable to in point of talents for this particular business; and that you will observe a modesty in the reception of premiums and praises on account of your talents, that shall show to those who bestow them that you are worthy of them in more senses than merely as an artist. It will likewise convince those who are less favored that you are far from exulting in their disappointments,--as I hope is truly the case,--and prevent that jealousy and envy that too often discovers itself in those of the same profession.... "We exceedingly rejoice in all your success, and hope you will persevere. Remember, my son, it is easier to get a reputation than to keep it unspotted in the midst of so much pollution as we are surrounded by.... "C. Dexter thanks you for your attention to her request as it respects Southey's likeness. She does not wish you to take too much pains and trouble to get it, but she, I know, would be greatly pleased if you should send her one of him. If you should get acquainted with him, inform him that a very sensible, fine young lady in America requested it (but don't tell him her name) from having read his works." In a long letter of August 10 and 26, 1813, after again giving free rein to his political feelings, he returns to the subject of his art:-- "Mr. West promised me a note to you, but he is an old man and very forgetful, and I suppose he has forgotten it. I don't wish to remind him of it directly, but, if in the course of conversation I can contrive to mention it, I will.... "With respect to returning home next summer, Mr. Allston and Mr. West think it would be an injury to me. Mr. Allston says I ought not to return till I am a _painter_. I long to return as much as you can wish to have me, but, if you can spare me a little longer, I should wish it. I abide your decision, however, completely. Mr. Allston will write you fully on this subject, and I will endeavor to persuade Mr. West also to do it. "France I could not, at present, visit with advantage; that is to say for, perhaps, a year. Mr. Allston thinks I ought to be previously well grounded in the principles of the English school to resist the corruptions of the French school; for they are corrupt in the principles of painting, as in religion and everything else; but, when well grounded in the good principles of this school, I could study and select the few beauties of the French without being in danger of following their many errors. The Louvre also would, in about a year, be of the greatest advantage to me, and also the fine works in Italy.... "Mama has amused me very much in her letter where she writes on politics. She says that, next to changing one's religion, she would dislike a man for changing his politics. Mama, perhaps, is not aware that she would in this way shut the door completely to conviction in anything. It would imply that, because a man is educated in error, he must forever live in error. I know exactly how mama feels; she thinks, as I did when at home, that it was impossible for the Federalists to be in the wrong; but, as all men are fallible, I think they may stand a chance of being wrong as well as any other class of people.... "Mama thinks my '_error_' arises from wrong information. I will ask mama which of us is likely to get at the truth; I, who am in England and can see and hear all their motives for acting as they have done; or mama, who gets her information from the Federal papers, second-hand, with numerous additions and improvements made to answer party purposes, distorted and misrepresented? "But to give you an instance. In the Massachusetts remonstrance they attribute the repeal of the Orders in Council to the kind disposition of the English Government, and a wish on their part to do justice, whereas it is notorious in this country that they repealed them on account of the injury it was doing themselves, and took America into consideration about as much as they did the inhabitants of Kamschatka. The conditional repeal of the Berlin and Milan decrees was a back door for them, and they availed themselves of it to sneak out of it. This necessity, this act of dire necessity, the Federal papers cry up as evincing a most forbearing spirit towards us, and really astonish the English themselves who never dreamt that it could be twisted in that way. "Mama assigns as a reason for my thinking well of the English that they have been very polite to me, and that it is ingratitude in me if I do otherwise. A few individuals have treated me politely, and I do feel thankful and gratified for it; but a little politeness from an individual of one nation to an individual of another is certainly not a reason that the former's Government should be esteemed incapable of wrong by the latter. I esteem the English as a nation; I rejoice in their conquests on the Continent, and would love them heartily, if they would let me; but I am afraid to tell them this, they are already too proud. "Their treatment of America is the worse for it. They are like a poor man who has got a lottery ticket and draws a great prize, and when his poor neighbor comes sincerely to congratulate him on his success, he holds up his head, and, turning up his nose, tells him that now he is his superior and then kicks him out of doors. "Papa says he expects peace in six months. It may be in the disposition of America to make peace, but not in the will of the English. It is in the power of the Federalists to force her to peace, but they will not do it, so she will force us to do it." As in most discussions, political or otherwise, neither party seems to have been convinced by the arguments of the other, for the parents continue to urge him to leave politics alone; indeed, they insist on his doing so. They also urge him to make every effort to support himself, if he should decide to spend another year abroad, for they fear that they will be unable to send him any more money. However, the father, when he became convinced that it was really to his son's interest to spend another year abroad, contrived to send him another thousand dollars. This was done at the cost of great self-sacrifice on the part of himself and his family, and was all the more praiseworthy on that account. In a letter from his brother Edwards, written also on the 17th of November, is this passage: "I must defer giving my reasons for thinking Poetry superior to Painting; I will mention only a few of the principles upon which I found my judgment. Genius in both these arts is the power of making impressions. The question then is: which is capable of making the strongest impression; which can impress upon the mind most strongly a sublime or a beautiful idea? Does the sublimest passage in Milton excite a stronger sensation in the mind of a man of taste than the sublimest painting of Michael Angelo? Or, to make the parallel more complete, does Michael Angelo convey to you a stronger impression of the Last Judgment, by his painting, than Milton could by his poetry? Could Michael Angelo convey a more sublime idea of Death by his painting than Milton has in his 'Paradise Lost'? These are the principles upon which your 'divine art' is to be degraded below Poetry." This was rather acute reasoning for a boy of twenty who had spent his life in the Boston and New Haven of those early days. The fact that he had never seen a great painting, whereas he had greedily read the poets, will probably account for his strong partisanship. The pious mother writes on November 25, 1813:-- "With regard to the Americans being despised and hated in England, you were apprised by your Uncle Salisbury and others before you left this country that that was the case, and you ought not to be surprised when you realized it. The reason given was that a large portion of those who visit Europe are _dissipated infidels_, which has justly given the English a bad opinion of us as a nation. But we are happy to find that there are many exceptions to these, who do honor to the country which gave them birth, such as a West, an Allston, and many others, among whom, I am happy to say, we hope that you, my son, will be enrolled at no very distant day.... "You mention being acquainted with young Payne, the play actor. I would guard you against any acquaintance with that description of people, as it will, sooner or later, have a most corrupting effect on the morals, and, as a man is known by the company he keeps, I should be very sorry to have you enrolled with such society, however pure you may believe his morals to be. "Your father and myself were eleven days in company with him in coming from Charleston, South Carolina. His behavior was quite unexceptionable then, but he is in a situation to ruin the best morals. I hope you do not attend the theatre, as I have ever considered it a most bewitching amusement, and ruinous both to soul and body. I would therefore guard you against it." His brother Richard joined the rest of the family in urging the young and impulsive artist to leave politics alone, as we learn from the following words which begin a letter of November 27, 1813:-- MY DEAR BROTHER,--Your letters by the Neptune, and also the medal, gave us great pleasure. The politics, however, were very disagreeable and occupied no inconsiderable part of your letters. Your kind wishes for _our_ reformation we must beg leave to retort by hoping for _your_ speedy amendment. There are gaps in the correspondence of this period. Many of the letters from both sides of the Atlantic seem never to have reached their destination, owing to the disturbed state of affairs arising from the war between the two countries. The young artist had gone in October, 1813, to Bristol, at the earnest solicitation of friends in that city, and seems to have spent a pleasant and profitable five months there, painting a number of portraits. He refers to letters written from Bristol, but they were either never received or not preserved. Of other letters I have only fragments, and some that are quoted by Mr. Prime in his biography have vanished utterly. Still, from what remains, we can glean a fairly good idea of the life of the young man at that period. His parents continually begged him to leave politics alone and to tell them more of his artistic life, of his visits to interesting places, and of his intercourse with the literary and artistic celebrities of the day. We, too, must regret that he did not write more fully on these subjects, for there must have been a mine of interesting material at his disposal. We also learn that there seems to have been a strange fatality attached to the little statuette of the "Dying Hercules," for, although he packed it carefully and sent it to Liverpool on June 18, 1813, to be forwarded to his parents, it never reached them until over two years later. The superstitious will say that the date of sending may have had something to do with this. Up to this time everything, except the attitude of England towards America, had been _couleur de rose_ to the enthusiastic young artist. He was making rapid progress in his studies and was receiving the encomiums of his fellow artists and of the critics. His parents were denying themselves in order to provide the means for his support, and, while he was duly appreciative of their goodness, he could not help taking it more or less as a matter of course. He was optimistic with regard to the future, falling into the common error of gifted young artists that, because of their artistic success, financial success must of necessity follow. He had yet to be proved in the school of adversity, and he had not long to wait. But I shall let the letters tell the story better than I can. The last letter from him to his parents from which I have quoted was written on August 12 and 26, 1813. On March 12, 1814, he writes from London after his return from Bristol:-- "There is a great drawback to my writing long letters to you; I mean the uncertainty of their reaching you. "Mama's long letter gave me particular pleasure. Some of her observations, however, made me smile, especially the reasons she assigns for the contempt and hatred of England for America. First, I am inclined to doubt the fact of there being so many _infidel_ Americans in the country; second, if there were, there are not so many _religious_ people here who would take the pains to enquire whether they had religion or not; and third, it is not by seeing the individual Americans that an opinion unfavorable to us is prevalent in England.... "With respect to my religious sentiments, they are unshaken; their influence, I hope, will always guide me through life. I hear various preachings on Sundays, sometimes Mr. Burder, but most commonly the Church of England clergy, as a church is in my neighborhood and Mr. B.'s three miles distant. I most commonly heard Dr. Biddulph, of St. James's Church, a most excellent, orthodox, evangelical man. I was on the point many times of going to hear Mr. Lowell, who is one of the dissenting clergymen of Bristol, but, as the weather proved very unfavorable, uncommonly so every Sunday I was there, and I was at a great distance from his church, I was disappointed. I shall endeavor to hear him preach when I go back to Bristol again." This was in reply to many long exhortations in his parents' letters, and especially in his mother's, couched in the extravagant language of the very pious of those days, to seek first the welfare of his "never-dying soul." "I have returned from Bristol to attend the exhibitions and to endeavor to get a picture into Somerset House. My stay in Bristol was very pleasant, indeed, as well as profitable. I was there five months and, in May, shall probably go again and stay all summer. I was getting into good business in the portrait way there, and, if I return, shall be enabled, probably, to support myself as long as I stay in England. "The attention shown me by Mr. Harman Visger and family, whom I have mentioned in a former letter, I shall never forget. He is a rich merchant, an American (cousin to Captain Visscher, my fellow passenger, by whom I was introduced to him). He has a family of seven children. I lived within a few doors of him, and was in and out of his house ever day...." Four pages of this letter are, unfortunately, missing. It begins again abruptly:-- "... prevented by illness from writing you before. "I shall endeavor to support myself, if not, necessity will compel me to return home an unfinished painter; it depends altogether on circumstances. I may get a good run of portraits or I may not; it depends so much on the whim of the public; if they should happen to fancy my pictures, I shall succeed; if not, why, I shall not succeed. I am, however, encouraged to hope.... "If I am prohibited from writing or thinking of politics, I hope my brothers will not be so ungenerous as to give me any.... "Mr. Allston's large picture is now exhibiting in the British Gallery. It has excited a great deal of curiosity and he has obtained a wonderful share of praise for it.... The picture is very deservedly ranked among the highest productions of art, either in ancient or modern times. It is really a pleasant consideration that the palm of painting still rests with America, and is, in all probability, destined to remain with us. All we wish is a taste in the country and a little more wealth.... In order to create a taste, however, pictures, first-rate pictures, must be introduced into the country, for taste is only acquired by a close study of the merits of the old masters. In Philadelphia I am happy to find they have successfully begun. I wish Americans would unite in the thing, throw aside local prejudices and give their support to _one_ institution. Let it be in Philadelphia, since it is so happily begun there, and let every American feel a pride in supporting that institution; let it be a national not a city institution. Then might the arts be so encouraged that Americans might remain at home and not, as at present, be under the painful necessity of exiling themselves from their country and their friends. "This will come to pass in the course of time, but not in my day, I fear, unless there is more exertion made to forward the arts than at present...." In this he proved a true prophet, and, as we shall see later, his exertions were a potent factor in establishing the fine arts on a firm basis in New York. "I am in very good health and I hope I feel grateful for it. I have not been ill for two days together since I have been in England. I am, however, of the _walking-stick_ order, and think I am thinner than I was at home. They all tell me so. I'm not so good-looking either, I am told; I have lost my color, grown more sallow, and have a face approaching to the hatchet class; but none of these things concern me; if I can paint good-looking, plump ladies and gentlemen, I shall feel satisfied.... "We have had a dreadfully severe winter here in England, such as has not been known for twenty-two years. When I came from Bristol the snow was up on each side of the road as high as the top of the coach in many places, especially on Marlborough Down and Hounslow Heath." His friend Mr. Visger thus writes to him from Bristol on April 1, 1814:-- "It gave me pleasure to learn that Mr. Leslie sold his picture of Saul, etc., at so good a price. I hope it will stimulate a friend of his to use his best exertions and time to endeavor even to excel the 'Witch of Endor.' I think I perceive a few symptoms of amendment in him, and the request of his father that he must support himself is, in the opinion of his friends here, the best thing that could have befallen him. He will now have the pleasure to taste the sweets of his own labor, and I hope will, in reality, know what true independence is. Let him not despair and he will certainly succeed. "Excuse my having taken up so much of your time in reading what I have written about Mr. Leslie's friend; I hope it will not make the pencil work less smoothly. "It gave us all great pleasure to hear that Mr. Allston's 'Dead and Alive Man' got the prize. It would be a great addition to our pleasure to hear that those encouragers of the fine arts have offered him fifteen hundred or two thousand guineas for it.... "There is an old lady waiting your return to have her portrait painted. Bangley says one or two more are enquiring for Mr. Morse. "You seem to have forgotten your friend in Stapleton prison. Did you not succeed in obtaining his release?" This refers to a certain Mr. Benjamin Burritt, an American prisoner of war. Morse used every effort, through his friend Henry Thornton, to secure the release of Mr. Burritt. On December 30, 1813, he wrote to Mr. Thornton from Bristol:-- RESPECTED SIR,--I take the liberty of addressing you in behalf of an American prisoner of war now in the Stapleton depot, and I address you, sir, under the conviction that a petition in the cause of humanity will not be considered by you as obtrusive. The prisoner I allude to is a gentleman of the name of Burritt, a native of New Haven, in the State of Connecticut; his connections are of the highest respectability in that city, which is notorious for its adherence to Federal principles. His friends and relatives are among my father's friends, and, although I was not, until now, personally acquainted with him, yet his face is familiar to me, and many of his relatives were my particular friends while I was receiving my education at Yale College in New Haven. From that college he was graduated in the year ----. A classmate of his was the Reverend Mr. Stuart, who is one of the professors of the Andover Theological Institution, and of whom, I think, my father has spoken in some of his letters to Mr. Wilberforce. Mr. Burritt, after he left college, applied himself to study, so much so as to injure his health, and, by the advice of his physicians, he took to the sea as the only remedy left for him. This had the desired effect, and he was restored to health in a considerable degree. Upon the breaking out of the war with this country, all the American coasting trade being destroyed, he took a situation as second mate in the schooner Revenge, bound to France, and was captured on the 10th of May, 1813. Since that time he has been a prisoner, and, from the enclosed certificates, you will ascertain what has been his conduct. He is a man of excellent religious principles, and, I firmly believe, of the strictest integrity. So well assured am I of this that, in case it should be required, _I will hold myself bound to answer for him in my own person_. His health is suffering by his confinement, and the unprincipled society, which he is obliged to endure, is peculiarly disagreeable to a man of his education. My object in stating these particulars to you, sir, is (if possible and consistent with the laws of the country), to obtain for him, through your influence, his liberty on his parole of honor. By so doing you will probably be the means of preserving the life of a good man, and will lay his friends, my father, and myself under the greatest obligations. Trusting to your goodness to pardon this intrusion upon your time, I am, sir, with the highest consideration, Your most humble, obedient servant, SAMUEL F.B. MORSE. To this Mr. Thornton replied:-- DEAR SIR,--You will perceive by the enclosed that there is, unhappily, no prospect of our effecting our wishes in respect to your poor friend at Bristol. I shall be glad to know whether you have had any success in obtaining a passport for Dr. Cushing. I am, dear sir, yours, etc. H. THORNTON. The enclosure referred to by Mr. Thornton was the following letter addressed to him by Lord Melville:-- SIR,--Mr. Hay having communicated to me a letter which he received from you on the subject of Benjamin Burritt, an American prisoner of war in the depot at Stapleton, I regret much that, after consulting on this case with Sir Rupert George, and ascertaining the usual course of procedure in similar instances, I cannot discover any circumstances that would justify a departure from the rules observed toward other prisoners of the same description. There can be no question that his case is a hard one, but I am afraid that it is inseparable from a state of war. It is not only not a solitary instance among the French and American prisoners, but, unless we were prepared to adopt the system of releasing all others of the same description, we should find that the number who might justly complain of undue partiality to this man would be very considerable. I have the honor to be, sir, your most obedient and very humble servant, MELVILLE. This was a great disappointment to Morse, who had set his heart on being the means of securing the liberty of this unfortunate man. He was compelled to bow to the inevitable, however, and after this he did what he could to make the unhappy situation of the prisoner more bearable by extending to him financial assistance, although he had but little to spare at that time himself, and could but ill afford the luxury of giving. Great events were occurring on the Continent at this time, and it is interesting to note how the intelligence of them was received in England by an enthusiastic student, not only of the fine arts, but of the humanities, who felt that, in this case, his sympathies and those of his family were in accord:-- April 6, 1814. MY DEAR PARENTS,--I write in much haste, but it is to inform you of a most glorious event, no less than the capture of Paris, by the Allies. They entered it last Thursday, and you may conceive the sensations of the people of England on the occasion. As the cartel is the first vessel which will arrive in America to carry the news, I hope I shall have the great satisfaction of hearing that I am the first who shall inform you of this great event; the particulars you will see nearly as soon as this. I congratulate you and the rest of the good people of the world on the occasion. _Despotism_ and _Usurpation_ are fallen, never, I hope, to rise again. But what gives me the greatest pleasure in the contemplation of this occurrence is the spirit of religion and, consequently, of humanity which has constantly marked the conduct of the Allies. Their moderation through all their unparallelled successes cannot be too much extolled; they merit the grateful remembrance of posterity, who will bless them as the restorers of a blessing but little enjoyed by the greater part of mankind for centuries. I mean the inestimable blessing of _Peace_. But I must cut short my feelings on the subject; were I to give them scope they would fill quires; they are as ardent as yours possibly can be. Suffice it to say that I see the hand of Providence so strongly in it that I think an infidel must be converted by it, and I hope I feel as a Christian should on such an occasion. I am well, in excellent spirits and shall use my utmost endeavors to support myself, for now more than ever is it necessary for me to stay in Europe. Peace is inevitable, and the easy access to the Continent and the fine works of art there render it doubly important that I should improve them to my utmost. I cannot ask more of my parents than they have done for me, but the struggle will be hard for me to get along and improve myself at the same time. Portraits are the only things which can support me at present, but it is insipid, indeed, for one who wishes to be at the head of the first branch of the art, to be stopped halfway, and be obliged to struggle with the difficulty of maintaining himself, in addition to the other difficulties attendant on the profession. But it is impossible to place this in a clear light in a letter. I wish I could talk with you on the subject, and I could in a short time make it clear to you. I cannot ask it of you and I do not till I try what I can do. You have already done more than I deserved and it would be ingratitude in me to request more of you, and I do not; only I say these things that you may not expect so much from me in the way of improvement as you may have been led to suppose. Morse seems to have made an excursion into dramatic literature at about this time, as the following draft of a letter, without date, but evidently written to the celebrated actor Charles Mathews, will testify:-- Not having the honor of a personal acquaintance with you, I have taken the liberty of enclosing to you a farce which, if, on perusal, you should think worthy of the stage, I beg you to accept, to be performed, if consistent with your plans, on the night appointed for your benefit. If I should be so much favored as to obtain your good opinion of it, the approbation alone of Mr. Mathews will be a sufficient reward for the task of writing it. The pleasure which I have so often received from you in the exercise of your comic powers would alone prompt me to make some return which might show you, at least, that I can be grateful to those who have at any time afforded me pleasure. With respect to your accepting or not accepting it, I wish you to act your pleasure entirely. If you think it will be of benefit to you by drawing a full house, or in any other way, it is perfectly at your service. If you think it will not succeed, will you have the goodness to enclose it under cover and direct to Mr. T.G.S., artist, 82 Great Titchfield Street; and I assure you beforehand that you need be under no apprehension of giving me mortification by refusing it. It would only convince me that I had not dramatic talents, and would serve, perhaps, to increase my ardor in the pursuit of my professional studies. If, however, it should meet with your approbation and you should wish to see me on the subject, a line directed as above enclosing your address shall receive immediate attention. I am as yet undecided what shall be its name. The character of Oxyd I had designed for you. The farce is a first attempt and has received the approbation, not only of my theatrical friends generally, but of some confessed critics by whom it has been commended. With sentiments of respect and esteem I remain, Your most obedient humble servant, T.G.S. As no further mention of this play is made I fear that the great Charles Mathews did not find it available. There is also no trace of the play itself among the papers, which is rather to be regretted. We can only surmise that Morse came to the conclusion (very wisely) that he had no "dramatic talents," and that he turned to the pursuit of his professional studies with increased ardor. CHAPTER VII MAY 2, 1814--OCTOBER 11, 1814 Allston writes encouragingly to the parents.--Morse unwilling to be mere portrait-painter.--Ambitious to stand at the head of his profession.-- Desires patronage from wealthy friends.--Delay in the mails.--Account of _entrée_ of Louis XVIII into London.--The Prince Regent.--Indignation at acts of English.--His parents relieved at hearing from him after seven months' silence.--No hope of patronage from America.--His brothers.-- Account of fêtes.--Emperor Alexander, King of Prussia, Blücher, Platoff. --Wishes to go to Paris.--Letter from M. Van Schaick about battle of Lake Erie.--Disgusted with England. Morse had now spent nearly three years in England. He was maturing rapidly in every way, and what his master thought of him is shown in this extract from a letter of Washington Allston to the anxious parent at home:-- "With regard to the progress which your son has made, I have the pleasure to say that it is unusually great for the time he has been studying, and indeed such as to make me proud of him as a pupil and to give every promise of future eminence.... "Should he be obliged to return _now_ to America, I much fear that all which he has acquired would be rendered abortive. It is true he could there paint very good portraits, but I should grieve to hear at any future period that, on the foundation now laid, he shall have been able to raise no higher superstructure than the fame of a portrait-painter. I do not intend here any disrespect to portrait-painting; I know it requires no common talent to excel in it.... "In addition to this _professional report_ I have the sincere satisfaction to give my testimony to his conduct as a man, which is such as to render him still worthy of being affectionately remembered by his moral and religious friends in America. This is saying a great deal for a young man of two-and-twenty in London, but is not more than justice requires me to say of him." On May 2, 1814, Morse writes home:-- "You ask if you are to expect me the next summer. This leads me to a little enlargement on the peculiar circumstances in which I am now placed. Mr. Allston's letter by the same cartel will convince you that industry and application have not been wanting on my part, that I have made greater progress than young men generally, etc., etc., and of how great importance it is to me to remain in Europe for some time yet to come. Indeed I feel it so much so myself that I shall endeavor to stay at all risks. If I find that I cannot support myself, that I am contracting debts which I have no prospect of paying, I shall then return home and settle down into a mere portrait-painter for some time, till I can obtain sufficient to return to Europe again; for I cannot be happy unless I am pursuing the intellectual branch of the art. Portraits have none of it; landscape has some of it, but history has it wholly. I am certain you would not be satisfied to see me sit down quietly, spending my time in painting portraits, throwing away the talents which Heaven has given me for the higher branches of art, and devoting my time only to the inferior. "I need not tell you what a difficult profession I have undertaken. It has difficulties in itself which are sufficient to deter any man who has not firmness enough to go through with it at all hazards, without meeting with any obstacles aside from it. The more I study it, the more I am enchanted with it; and the greater my progress, the more am I struck with its beauties, and the perseverance of those who have dared to pursue it through the thousands of natural hindrances with which the art abounds. "I never can feel too grateful to my parents for having assisted me thus far in my profession. They have done more than I had any right to expect; they have conducted themselves with a liberality towards me, both in respect to money and to countenancing me in the pursuit of one of the noblest of professions, which has not many equals in this country. I cannot ask of them more; it would be ingratitude. "I am now in the midst of my studies when the great works of ancient art are of the utmost service to me. Political events have just thrown open the whole Continent; the whole world will now leave war and bend their attention to the cultivation of the arts of peace. A golden age is in prospect, and art is probably destined to again revive as in the fifteenth century. "The Americans at present stand unrivalled, and it is my great ambition (and it is certainly a commendable one) to stand among the first. My country has the most prominent place in my thoughts. How shall I raise her name, how can I be of service in refuting the calumny, so industriously spread against her, that she has produced no men of genius? It is this more than anything (aside from painting) that inspires me with a desire to excel in my art. It arouses my indignation and gives me tenfold energy in the pursuit of my studies. I should like to be the greatest painter _purely out of revenge_. "But what a damper is thrown upon my enthusiasm when I find that, the moment when all the treasures of art are before me, just within my reach; that advantages to the artist were never greater than now; Paris with all its splendid depository of the greatest works but a day or two's journey from me, and open to my free inspection,--what a damper, I say, is it to find that my three years' allowance is just expired; that while all my contemporary students and companions are revelling in these enjoyments, and rapidly advancing in their noble studies, they are leaving me behind, either to return to my country, or, by painting portraits in Bristol, just to be able to live through the year. The thought makes me melancholy, and, for the first time since I left home, have I had one of my desponding fits. I have got over it now, for I would not write to you in that mood for the world. My object in stating this is to request patronage from some rich individual or individuals for a year or two longer at the rate of £250 per year. This to be advanced to me, and, if required, to be returned in money as soon as I shall be able, or by pictures to the amount when I have completed my studies.... If Uncle Salisbury or Miss Russell could do it, it would be much more grateful to me than from any others.... "The box containing my plaster cast I found, on enquiry, is still at Liverpool where it has been, to my great disappointment, now nearly a year. I have given orders to have it sent by the first opportunity. Mr. Wilder will tell you that he came near taking out my great picture of the Hercules to you. It seems as though it is destined that nothing of mine shall reach you. I packed it up at a moment's warning and sent it to Liverpool to go by the cartel, and I found it arrived the day after she had sailed. I hope it will not be long before both the boxes will have an opportunity of reaching you. "I am exceedingly sorry you have forgotten a passage in one of my letters where I wished you not to feel anxious if you did not hear from me as often as you had done. I stated the reason, that opportunities were less frequent, more circuitous, and attended with greater interruptions. I told you that I should write at least once in three weeks, and that you must attribute it to anything but neglect on my part. "Your last letter has hurt me considerably, for, owing to some accident or other, my letters have miscarried, and you upbraid me with neglect, and fear that I am not as industrious or correct as formerly. I know you don't wish to hurt me, but I cannot help feeling hurt when I think that my parents have not the confidence which I thought they had in me; that some interruptions, which all complain of and which are natural to a state of warfare, having prevented letters, which I have written, from being received; instead of making allowances for these things, to have them attribute it to a falling-off in industry and attention wounds me a great deal. Mrs. Allston, to her great surprise, received just such a letter from her friends, and it hurt her so that she was ill in consequence.... "I dine at Mr. Macaulay's at five o'clock to-day, and shall attend the House of Commons to-morrow evening, where I expect to hear Mr. Wilberforce speak on the Slave Trade, with reference to the propriety of making the universal abolition of it an article in the pending negotiations. If I have time in this letter I will give you some account of it. In the mean time I will give you a slight account of some scenes of which I have been a happy witness in the great drama now acting in the Theatre of Europe. "You will probably, before this reaches you, hear of the splendid _entrée_ of Louis XVIII into London. I was a spectator of this scene. On the morning of the day, about ten o'clock, I went into Piccadilly through which the procession was to pass. I did not find any great concourse of people at that hour except before the Pultney Hotel, where the sister of Emperor Alexander resides on a visit to this country, the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg. I thought it probable that, as the procession would pass this place, there would be some uncommon occurrence taking place before it, so I took my situation directly opposite, determined, at any rate, to secure a good view of what happened. "I waited four or five hours, during which time the people began to collect from all quarters; the carriages began to thicken, the windows and fronts of the houses began to be decorated with the white flag, white ribbons, and laurel. Temporary seats were fitted up on all sides, which began to be filled, and all seemed to be in preparation. About this time the King's splendid band of music made its appearance, consisting, I suppose, of more than fifty musicians, and, to my great gratification, placed themselves directly before the hotel. They began to play, and soon after the grand duchess, attended by several Russian noblemen, made her appearance on the balcony, followed by the Queen of England, the Princess Charlotte of Wales, the Princess Mary, Princess Elizabeth, and all the female part of the royal family. From this fortunate circumstance you will see that I had an excellent opportunity of observing their persons and countenances. "The Duchess of Oldenburg is a common-sized woman of about four or five and twenty; she has rather a pleasant countenance, blue eyes, pale complexion, regular features, her cheek-bones high, but not disagreeably so. She resembles very much her brother the Emperor, judging from his portrait. She had with her her little nephew, Prince Alexander, a boy of about three or four years old. He was a lively little fellow, playing about, and was the principal object of the attention of the royal family. "The Queen, if I was truly directed to her, is an old woman of very sallow complexion, and nothing agreeable either in her countenance or deportment; and, if she was not called a queen, she might as well be any ugly old woman. The Princess Charlotte of Wales I thought pretty; she has small features, regular, pale complexion, great amiability of expression and condescension of manners; the Princess Elizabeth is extremely corpulent, and, from what I could see of her face, was agreeable though nothing remarkable. "One of the others, I think it was the Princess Mary, appeared to have considerable vivacity in her manners; she was without any covering to her head, her hair was sandy, which she wore cropped; her complexion was probably fair originally, but was rather red now; her features were agreeable. "It now began to grow late, the people were beginning to be tired, wanting their dinners, and the crowd to thicken, when a universal commotion and murmur through the crowd and from the housetops indicated that the procession was at hand. This was followed by the thunder of artillery and the huzzas of the people toward the head of the street, where the houses seemed to be alive with the twirling of hats and shaking of handkerchiefs. This seemed to mark the progress of the King; for, as he came opposite each house, these actions became most violent, with cries of _'Vivent les Bourbons!' 'Vive le Roi!' 'Vive Louis!'_ etc. "I now grew several inches taller; I stretched my neck and opened my eyes. One carriage appeared, drawn by six horses, decorated with ribbons, and containing some of the French _noblesse;_ another, of the same description, with some of the French royal family. At length came a carriage drawn by eight beautiful Arabian cream-colored horses. In this were seated Louis XVIII, King of France, the Prince Regent of England, the Duchesse d'Angoulême, daughter of Louis XVI, and the Prince of Condé. They passed rather quickly, so that I had but a glance at them, though a distinct one. The Prince Regent I had often seen before; the King of France I had a better sight of afterwards, as I will presently relate. The Duchesse d'Angoulême had a fine expression of countenance, owing probably to the occasion, but a melancholy cast was also visible through it; she was pale. The Prince of Condé I have no recollection of. "After this part of the procession had passed, the crowd became exceedingly oppressive, rushing down the street to keep pace with the King's carriage. As the King passed the royal family he bowed, which they returned by kissing their hands to him and shaking their handkerchiefs with great enthusiasm. After they had gone by, the royal family left the balcony, where they had been between two and three hours. "My only object now was to get clear of the crowd. I waited nearly three quarters of an hour, and at length, by main strength, worked myself edgewise across the street, where I pushed down through stables and houses and by-lanes to get thoroughly clear, not caring where I went, as I knew I could easily find my way when I got into a street. This I at last gained, and, to my no small astonishment, found myself by mere chance directly opposite the hotel where Louis and his suite were. "The Prince Regent had just left the place, and with his carriage went a great part of the mob, which left the space before the house comparatively clear. It soon filled again; I took advantage, however, and got directly before the windows of the hotel, as I expected the King would show himself, for the people were calling for him very clamorously. "I was not disappointed, for, in less than half a minute he came to the window, which was open, before which I was. I was so near him I could have touched him. He stayed nearly ten minutes, during which time I observed him carefully. He is very corpulent, a round face, dark eyes, prominent features; the character of countenance much like the portraits of the other Louises; a pleasant face, but, above all, such an expression of the moment as, I shall never forget, and in vain attempt to describe. "His eyes were suffused with tears, his mouth slightly open with an unaffected smile full of gratitude, and seemed to say to every one, 'Bless you.' His hands were a little extended sometimes as if in adoration to heaven, at others as if blessing the people. I entered into his feelings. I saw a monarch who, for five-and-twenty years, had been an exile from his country, deprived of his throne, and, until within a few months, not a shadow of a hope remaining of ever returning to it again. I saw him raised, as if by magic, from a private station in an instant to his throne, to reign over a nation which has made itself the most conspicuous of any nation on the globe. I tried to think as he did, and, in the heat of my enthusiasm, I joined with heart and soul in the cries of _'Vive le roi!' 'Vive Louis!'_ which rent the air from the mouths of thousands. As soon as he left the window, I returned home much fatigued, but well satisfied that my labor had not been for naught.... "Mr. Wilberforce is an excellent man; his whole soul is bent on doing good to his fellow men. Not a moment of his time is lost. He is always planning some benevolent scheme or other, and not only planning but executing; he is made up altogether of affectionate feeling. What I saw of him in private gave me the most exalted opinion of him as a Christian. Oh, that such men as Mr. Wilberforce were more common in this world. So much human blood would not then be shed to gratify the malice and revenge of a few wicked, interested men. "I hope Cousin Samuel Breese will distinguish himself under so gallant a commander as Captain Perry. I shall look with anxiety for the sailing of the Guerrière. There will be plenty of opportunity for him, for peace with us is deprecated by the people here, and it only remains for us to fight it out gallantly, as we are able to do, or submit slavishly to any terms which they please to offer us. A number of _humane_ schemes are under contemplation, such as burning New London for the sake of the frigates there; arming the blacks in the Southern States; burning all of our principal cities, and such like plans, which, from the supineness of the New England people, may be easily carried into effect. But no, the _humane, generous_ English cannot do such base things--I hope not; let the event show it. It is perhaps well I am here, for, with my present opinions, if I were at home, I should most certainly be in the army or navy. My mite is small, but, when my country's honor demands it, it might help to sustain it. "There can now be no French party. I wish very much to know what effect this series of good news will have at home. I congratulate you as well as all other good people on the providential events which have lately happened; they must produce great changes with us; I hope it will be for the best. "I am in excellent health, and am painting away; I am making studies for the large picture I contemplate for next year. It will be as large, I think, as Mr. Allston's famous one, which was ten feet by fourteen." It can hardly be wondered at that the parents should have been somewhat anxious, when we learn from letters of June, 1814, that they had not heard from their son for _seven months_. They were greatly relieved when letters did finally arrive, and they rejoiced in his success and in the hope of a universal peace, which should enable their sons "to act their part on the stage of life in a calmer period of the world." His mother keeps urging him to send some of his paintings home, as they wish to judge of his improvement, having, as yet, received nothing but the small pen-and-ink portrait of himself, which they do not think a very good likeness. She also emphatically discourages any idea of patronage from America, owing to the hard times brought on by the war, and the father tells his son that he will endeavor to send him one thousand dollars more, which must suffice for the additional year's study and the expenses of the journey home. It is small wonder that the three sons always manifested the deepest veneration and affection for their parents, for seldom has there been seen as great devotion and self-sacrifice, and seldom were three sons more worthy of it. Sidney was at this time studying law at Litchfield, Connecticut, and Richard was attending the Theological Seminary at Andover, Massachusetts. Both became eminent in after life, though, curiously enough, neither in the law nor in the ministry. But we shall have occasion to treat more specifically of this later on. The three brothers were devotedly attached to each other to the very end of their long lives, and were mutually helpful as their lives now diverged and now came together again. The next letter from Morse to his parents, written on June 15, 1814, gives a further account of the great people who were at that time in London:-- "I expected at this time to have been in Bristol with Mr. and Mrs. Allston, who are now there, but the great fêtes in honor of the peace, and the visit of the allied sovereigns, have kept me in London till all is over. There are now in London upward of twenty foreign princes; also the great Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia. A week ago yesterday they arrived in town, and, contrary to expectation, came in a very private manner. I went to see their _entrée_, but was disappointed with the rest of the people, for the Emperor Alexander, disliking all show and parade, came in a private carriage and took an indirect route here. "The next and following day I spent in endeavoring to get a sight of them. I have been very fortunate, having seen the Emperor Alexander no less than fourteen times, so that I am quite familiar with his face; the King of Prussia I have seen once; Marshal Blücher, five or six times; Count Platoff, three or four times; besides Generals de Yorck, Bülow, etc., all whose names must be perfectly familiar to you, and the distinguished parts they have all acted in the great scenes just past. "The Emperor Alexander I am quite in love with; he has every mark of a great mind. His countenance is an uncommonly fine one; he has a fair complexion, hair rather light, and a stout, well-made figure; he has a very cheerful, benevolent expression, and his conduct has everywhere evinced that his face is the index of his mind. When I first saw him he was dressed in a green uniform with two epaulets and stars of different orders; he was conversing at the window of his hotel with his sister, the Duchess of Oldenburg. I saw him again soon after in the superb coach of the Prince Regent, with the Duchess, his sister, going to the court of the Queen. In a few hours after I saw him again on the balcony of the Pultney Hotel; he came forward and bowed to the people. He was then dressed in a red uniform, with a broad blue sash over the right shoulder; he appeared to great advantage; he stayed about five minutes. I saw him again five or six times through the day, but got only indifferent views of him. The following day, however, I was determined to get a better and nearer view of him than before. I went down to his hotel about ten o'clock, the time when I supposed he would leave it; I saw one of the Prince's carriages drawn up, which opened at the top and was thrown back before and behind. In a few minutes the Emperor with his sister made their appearance and got into it. As the carriage started, I pressed forward and got hold of the ring of the coach door and kept pace with it for about a quarter of a mile. I was so near that I could have touched him; he was in a plain dress, a brown coat, and altogether like any other gentleman. His sister, the Duchess, also was dressed in a very plain, unattractive manner, and, if it had not been for the crowd which followed, they would have been taken for any lady and gentleman taking an airing. "In this unostentatious manner does he conduct himself, despising all pomp, and seems rather more intent upon inspecting the charitable, useful, and ornamental establishments of this country, with a view, probably, of benefiting his own dominions by his observations, than of displaying his rank by the splendor of dress and equipage. "His condescension also is no less remarkable. An instance or two will exemplify it. On the morning after his arrival he was up at six o'clock, and, while the lazy inhabitants of this great city were fast asleep in their beds, he was walking with his sister, the Duchess, in Kensington Gardens. As he came across Hyde Park he observed a corporal drilling some recruits, upon which he went up to him and entered into familiar conversation with him, asking him a variety of questions, and, when he had seen the end of the exercise, shook him heartily by the hand and left him. When he was riding on horseback, he shook hands with all who came round him. "A few days ago, as he was coming out of the gate of the London Docks on foot, after having inspected them, a great crowd was waiting to see him, among whom was an old woman of about seventy years of age, who seemed very anxious to get near him, but, the crowd pressing very much, she exclaimed, 'Oh, if I could but touch his clothes!' The Emperor overheard her, and, turning round, advanced to her, and, pulling off his glove, gave her his hand, and, at the same time dropping a guinea into hers, said to her, 'Perhaps this will do as well.' The old woman was quite overcome, and cried, 'God bless Your Majesty,' till he was out of sight. "An old woman in her ninetieth year sent a pair of warm woolen stockings to the Emperor, and with them a letter stating that she had knit them with her own hands expressly for him, and, as she could not afford to send him silk, she thought that woolen would be much more acceptable, and would also be more useful in his climate. The Emperor was very much pleased, and determined on giving her his miniature set in gold and diamonds, but, upon learning that her situation in life was such that money would be more acceptable, he wrote her an answer, and, thanking her heartily for her present, enclosed her one hundred pounds. "These anecdotes speak more than volumes in praise of the Emperor Alexander. He is truly a great man. He is a great conqueror, for he has subdued the greatest country in the world, and overthrown the most alarming despotism that ever threatened mankind. He is great also because he is good; his whole time seems spent in distributing good to all around him; and where-ever he goes he makes every heart rejoice. He is very active and is all the time on the alert in viewing everything that is worth seeing. The Emperor is also extremely partial to the United States; everything American pleases him, and he seems uncommonly interested in the welfare of our country. "I was introduced to-day to Mr. Harris, our _chargé d'affaires_ to the court of Russia. He is a very intelligent, fine man, and is a great favorite with Alexander. From a conversation with him I have a scheme in view which, when I have matured, I will submit to you for your approbation. "The King of Prussia I have seen but once, and then had but an imperfect view of him. He came to the window with the Prince Regent and bowed to the people (at St. James's Palace). He is tall and thin, has an agreeable countenance, but rather dejected in consequence of the late loss of his queen, to whom he was very much attached. "General Blücher, now Prince Blücher, I have seen five or six times. I saw him on his entrance into London, all covered with dust, and in a very ordinary kind of vehicle. On the day after I saw him several times in his carriage, drawn about wherever he wished by the _mob_. He is John's greatest favorite, and they have almost pulled the brave general and his companion, Count Platoff, to pieces out of pure affection. Platoff had his coat actually torn off him and divided into a thousand pieces as _relics_ by the good people--their kindness knows no bounds, and, I think, in all the battles which they have fought, they never have run so much risk of losing their limbs as in encountering their friends in England. "Blücher is a veteran-looking soldier, a very fine head, monstrous mustaches. His head is bald, like papa's, his hair gray, and he wears powder. Understanding that he was to be at Covent Garden Theatre, I went, as the best place to see him, and I was not disappointed. He was in the Prince's box, and I had a good view of him during the whole entertainment, being directly before him for three or four hours. A few nights since I also went to the theatre to see Platoff, the _hetman_ (chief) of the Cossacks. He has also a very fine countenance, a high and broad forehead, dark complexion, and dark hair. He is tall and well-made, as I think the Cossacks are generally. He was very much applauded by a crowded house, the most part collected to see him." The following letter is from Washington Allston written in Bristol, on July 5, 1814:-- MY DEAR SIR,--I received your last on Saturday and should have answered your first letter but for two reasons. First, that I had nothing to say; which, I think, metaphysicians allow to be the most natural as well as the most powerful cause of silence. Second, that, if I had had anything to say, the daily expectation which I entertained of seeing you allowed no confidence in the hope that you would hear what I had to say should I have said it. I thank you for your solicitude, and can assure you that both Mrs. Allston and myself are in every respect better than when we left London. Mr. King received me, as I wished, with undiminished kindness, and was greatly pleased with the pictures. He has not, however, seen the large one, which, to my agreeable surprise, I have been solicited from various quarters to exhibit, and that, too, without my having given the least intimation of such a design. I have taken Merchant Tailors' Hall (a very large room) for this purpose, and shall probably open it in the course of next week. Perhaps you will be surprised to hear that I have been retouching it. I have just concluded a fortnight's hard work upon it, and have the satisfaction to add that I have been seldom better satisfied than with my present labor. I have repainted the greater part of the draperies-- indeed, those of all the principal figures, excepting the Dead Man--with powerful and positive colors, and added double strength to the shadows of every figure, so that for force and distinctness you would hardly know it for the same picture. The "Morning Chronicle" would have no reason now to complain of its "wan red."... I am sorry that Parliament has been so impolite to you in procrastinating the fireworks. But they are an unpolished set and will still be in the dark age of incivility notwithstanding their late illuminations. However I am in great hopes that the good people of England will derive no small degree of moral embellishment from their pure admiration of the illustrious General B----, who, it is said, for drinking and gaming has no equal. BRISTOL, September 9, 1814. MY DEAR PARENTS,--Your kind letters of June last I have received, and return you a thousand thanks for them. They have relieved me from a painful state of anxiety with respect to my future prospects. I cannot feel too thankful for such kind parents who have universally shown so much indulgence to me. Accept my gratitude and love; they are all I can give. You allow me to stay in Europe another year. Your letters are not in answer to some I have subsequently sent requesting leave to reside in Paris. Mr. Allston, as well as all my friends, think it by all means necessary I should lose no time in getting to France to improve myself for a year in drawing (a branch of art in which I am very deficient). I shall therefore set out for Paris in about two weeks, unless your letters in answer to those sent by Drs. Heyward and Gushing should arrive and say otherwise. Since coming to Bristol I have not found my prospects so good as I before had reason to expect (owing in a great degree to political irritation). I have, however, contrived to make sufficient to pay off _all_ my _debts_, which have given me some considerable uneasiness. I can live much more reasonably in Paris (indeed, some say for half what I can in London); I can improve myself more; and, therefore, all things taken into consideration, I believe it would be agreeable to my parents. As to the political state of Paris, there is nothing to fear from that. It appears perfectly tranquil, and should at any time any difficulties arise, it is but three days' journey back to England again. Besides this, I hope my parents will not feel any solicitude for me lest I should fall into any bad way, when they consider that I am now between twenty-three and twenty-four years of age, and that this is an age when the habits are generally fixed. As for expense, I must also request your confidence. Feeling as I do the great obligations I am under to my parents, they must think me destitute of gratitude if they thought me capable, after all that has been said to me, of being prodigal. The past I trust you will find to be an example for the future. In a letter from a friend, M. Van Schaick, written from Dartmouth, October 13, 1814, after speaking in detail of the fortifications of New York Harbor, which he considers "impregnable," we find the following interesting information:-- "But what satisfies my mind more than anything else is that all the heights of Brooklyn on Long Island are occupied by strong chains of forts; the Captain calls it an iron-work; and that the steamboat frigate, carrying forty-four 32-pounders, must by this time be finished. Her sides are eight feet thick of solid timber. No ball can penetrate her.... The steamboat frigate is 160 feet long, 40 wide, carries her wheels in the centre like the ferry-boats, and will move six miles an hour against a common wind and tide. She is the wonder and admiration of all beholders." From this same gentleman is the following letter, dated October 21, 1814:-- MY DEAR FRIEND,--My heart is so full that I do not know how to utter its emotions. Thanks, all thanks to Heaven and our glorious heroes! My satisfaction is full; it is perfect. It partakes of the character of the victory and wants nothing to make it complete. I return your felicitations upon this happy and heart-cheering occasion, and hope it may serve to suppress every sigh and to enliven every hope that animates the bosoms of my friends at Bristol. Give Mr. Allston a hearty squeeze of the hand for me in token of my gratification at this event and my remembrance of him. I enter into your feelings; I enjoy your triumph as much as if I was with you. May it do you good and lengthen your lives. Really I think it is much more worth my regard to live now than ever it was before. This gives a tone to one's nerves, a zest to one's appetite, and a reality to existence that pervades all nature and exhibits its effects in every word and action. Among the heroes whose names shall be inscribed upon the broad base of American Independence and Glory, the names of the heroes of Lake Erie and Lake Champlain will be recognized as brilliant and every way worthy; and it will hereafter be said that the example and exertions of New York have saved the nation.... What becomes of Massachusetts now and its sage politicians? Oh! shut the picture; I cannot bear the contrast. Like a dead carcass she hangs upon the living spirit which animates the heart, and she impedes its motions. Her consequence is gone, and I am sorry for it, because I have been accustomed to admire the noble spirit she once displayed, and the virtues which adorned her brighter days.... We sail on Sunday or Monday. I have received the box. Everything is right. Heaven bless you. Going back a few days in point of time, the following letter was written to his parents:-- BRISTOL, October 11, 1814. Your letters to the 31st of August have been received, and I have again to express to you my thanks for the sacrifices you are making for me. One day I hope it will be in my power to repay you for the many acts of indulgence to me.... Your last letters mention nothing about my going to France. I perceive you have got my letters requesting leave, but you are altogether silent on the subject. Everything is in favor of my going, my improvement, my expenses, and, last though not least, _the state of my feelings_. I shall be ruined in my feelings if I stay longer in England. I cannot endure the continued and daily insults to my feelings as an American. But on this head I promised not to write anything more; still allow me to say but a few words--On second thoughts, however, I will refer you entirely to Dr. Romeyn. If it is possible, as you value my comfort, see him as speedily as possible. He will give you my sentiments exactly, and I fully trust that, after you have heard him converse for a short time, you will completely liberate me from the imputation of error.... Mr. Bromfield [the merchant through whom he received his allowance] thinks I had better wait until I receive positive leave from you to go to France. Do write me soon and do give me leave. I long to bury myself in the Louvre in a country at least not hostile to mine, and where guns are not firing and bells ringing for victory over my countrymen.... Where is American patriotism,--how long shall England, already too proud, glory in the blood of my countrymen? Oh! for the genius of Washington! Had I but his talents with what alacrity would I return to the relief of that country which (without affectation, my dear parents) is dearer to me than my life. Willingly (I speak with truth and deliberation), willingly would I sacrifice my life for her honor. Do not think ill of me for speaking thus strongly. You cannot judge impartially of my feelings until you are placed in my situation. Do not say I suffer myself to be carried away by my feelings; your feelings could never have been tried as mine have; you cannot see with the eyes I do; you cannot have the means of ascertaining facts on this side of the water that I have. But I will leave this subject and only say see _Dr. Romeyn_.... I find no encouragement whatever in Bristol in the way of my art. National feeling is mingled with everything here; it is sufficient that I am an American, a title I would not change with the greatest king in Europe. I find it more reasonable, living in Bristol, or I should go to London immediately. Mr. and Mrs. Allston are well and send you their respects. They set out for London in a few days after some months' _unsuccessful_ (between ourselves) residence here. All public feeling is absorbed in one object, the _conquest of the United States;_ no time to encourage an artist, especially an American artist. I am well, extremely well, but not in good spirits, as you may imagine from this letter. I am painting a little landscape and am studying in my mind a great historical picture, to be painted, by your leave, in Paris. CHAPTER VIII NOVEMBER 9, 1814--APRIL 23. 1815 Does not go to Paris.--Letter of admonition from his mother.--His parents' early economies.--Letter from Leslie.--Letter from Rev. S.F. Jarvis on politics.--The mother tells of the economies of another young American, Dr. Parkman.--The son resents constant exhortations to economize, and tells of meanness of Dr. Parkman.--Writes of his own economies and industry.--Disgusted with Bristol.--Prophesies peace between England and America.--Estimates of Morse's character by Dr. Romeyn and Mr. Van Schaick.--The father regrets reproof of son for political views.--Death of Mrs. Allston.--Disagreeable experience in Bristol.--More economies.--Napoleon I.--Peace. Morse did not go to Paris at this time. The permission from his parents was so long delayed, owing to their not having received certain letters of his, and his mentor, Mr. Bromfield, advising against it, he gave up the plan, with what philosophy he could bring to bear on the situation. His mother continued to give him careful advice, covering many pages, in every letter. On November 9, 1814, she says:-- "We wish to know what the plan was that you said you were maturing in regard to the Emperor of Russia. You must not be a schemer, but determine on a steady, uniform course. It is an old adage that 'a rolling stone never gathers any moss'; so a person that is driving about from pillar to post very seldom lays up anything against a rainy day. You must be wise, my son, and endeavor to get into such steady business as will, with the divine blessing, give you a support. Secure that first, and then you will be authorized to indulge your taste and exercise your genius in other ways that may not be immediately connected with a living. "You mention patronage from this country, but such a thing is not known here unless you were on the spot, and not then, indeed, but for value received. You must therefore make up your mind to labor for yourself without leaning on any one, and look up to God for his blessing upon your endeavors. This is the way your parents set out in life about twenty-five years ago. They had nothing to look to for a support but their salary, which was a house, twenty cords of wood, and $570 a year. The reception and circulation of the Geography was an experiment not then made. With the blessing of Heaven on these resources we have maintained an expensive family, kept open doors for almost all who chose to come and partake of our hospitality. Enemies, as well as friends, have been welcomed. We have given you and your brothers a liberal education, have allowed you $4000, are allowing your brothers about $300 a year apiece, and are supporting our remaining family at the rate of $2000 a year. This is a pretty correct statement, and I make it to show you what can be done by industry and economy, with the blessing of Heaven." While Morse was in Bristol, his friend C. R. Leslie thus writes to him in lead pencil from London, on November 29, 1814:-- MOST POTENT, GRAVE AND REVEREND DOCTOR,--I take up my pencil to make ten thousand apologies for addressing you in humble black lead. Deeply impressed as I am with the full conviction that you deserve the very best Japan ink, the only excuse I can make to you is the following. It is, perhaps, needless to remind you that the tools with which ink is applied to paper, in order to produce writing, are made from goose quills, which quills I am goose enough not to keep a supply of; and not having so much money at present in my breeches pocket as will purchase one, I am forced to betake myself to my pencil; an instrument which, without paying myself any compliment, I am sure I can wield better than a pen. I am glad to hear that you are so industrious, and that Mr. Allston is succeeding so well with portraits. I hope he will bring all he has painted to London. I am looking out for you every day. I think we form a kind of family here, and I feel in an absence from Mr. and Mrs. Allston and yourself as I used to do when away from my mother and sisters. By the bye, I have not had any letters from home for more than a month. It seems the Americans are all united and we shall now have war in earnest. I am glad of it for many reasons; I think it will not only get us a more speedy and permanent peace, but may tend to crush the demon of party spirit and strengthen our government. I am done painting the gallery, and have finished my drawings for the frieze. Thank you for your good wishes. I thought Mr. Allston knew how proud I am of being considered his student. Tell him, if he thinks it worth while to mention me at all in his letter to Delaplaine, I shall consider it a great honor to be called his student. The father, in a letter of December 6, 1814, after again urging him to leave politics alone, adds this postscript: "P.S. If you can make up your mind to remain in London and finish your great picture for the exhibition; to suppress your political feelings, and resolutely turn a deaf ear to everything which does not concern your professional studies; not to talk on politics and preserve a conciliating course of conduct and conversation; make as many friends as you can, and behave as a good man ought to in your situation, and put off going to France till after your exhibition,--this plan would suit us best. But with the observations and advice now before you, we leave you to judge for yourself. Let us early know your determination and intended plans. You must rely on your own resources after this year." The following letter is from his warm friend, the Reverend Samuel F. Jarvis, written in New York, December 14, 1814:-- "I am not surprised at the feelings you express with regard to England or America. The English in general have so contemptuous an opinion of us and one so exalted of themselves, that every American must feel a virtuous indignation when he hears his country traduced and belied. But, my dear sir, it is natural, on the other hand, for an exile from his native land to turn with fond remembrance to its excellences and forget its defects. You will be able some years hence to speak with more impartiality on this subject than you do at present. "The men who have involved the country in this war are wicked and corrupt. A systematic exclusion of all Federalists from any office of trust is the leading feature of this Administration, yet the Federalists comprehend the majority of the wealth, virtue, and intelligence of the community. It is the power of the ignorant multitude by which they are supported, and I conceive that America will never be a respectable nation in the eyes of the world, till the extreme democracy of our Constitution is done away with, and there is a representation of the property rather than of the population of the country. You feel nothing of the oppressive, despotic sway of the _soi-disant_ Republicans, but we feel it in all its bitterness, and know that it is far worse than that of the most despotic sovereigns in Europe. With such men there can be no union. "The repulsion of British invasion is the duty, and will be the pride, of every American; but, while prepared to bare his arm in defence of his much-wronged country against a proud and arrogant, and, in some instances, a cruel, foe, he cannot be blind to the unprincipled conduct of her internal enemies, and such he must conceive the present ruling party to be." On December 19, 1814, his mother writes:-- "I was not a little astonished to hear you say, in one of your letters from Bristol, that you had earned money enough there to pay off your debts. I cannot help asking what debts you could have to discharge with your own earnings after receiving one thousand dollars a year from us, which we are very sure must have afforded you, even by your own account of your expenses, ample means for the payment of all just, fair, and honorable debts, and I hope you contract no others. We are informed by others that they made six hundred dollars a year not only pay all their expenses of clothing, board, travelling, learning the French language, etc., etc., but they were able out of it to purchase books to send home, and actually sent a large trunk full of elegant books. Now the person who told us that he did this has a father who is said to be worth a hundred and fifty thousand dollars; therefore the young man was not pinched for means, but was thus economical out of consideration to his parents, and to show his gratitude to them, as I suppose. Now think, my dear son, how much more your poor parents are doing for you, how good your dear brothers are to be satisfied with so little done for them in comparison with what we are doing for you, and let the thought stimulate you to more economy and industry. I greatly fear you have been falling off in both these since the éclat you received for your first performances. It has always been a failing of yours, as soon as you found you could excel in what you undertook, to be tired of it and not trouble yourself any further about it. I was in hopes that you had got over this fickleness ere this... "You must not expect to paint anything in this country, for which you will receive any money to support you, but portraits; therefore do everything in your power to qualify you for painting and taking them in the best style. That is all your hope here, and to be very obliging and condescending to those who are disposed to employ you.... "I think young Leslie is a very estimable young man to be, as I am told he is, supporting himself and assisting his widowed mother by his industry." I shall anticipate a little in order to give at once the son's answer to this reproof. He writes on April 28, 1815:-- "I wish I could persuade my parents that they might place some little confidence in my judgment at the age I now am (nearly twenty-four), an age when, in ordinary people, the judgment has reached a certain degree of maturity. It is a singular and, I think, an unfortunate fact that I have not, that I recollect, since I have been in England, had a turn of low spirits except when I have received letters from home. It is true I find a great deal of affectionate solicitude in them, but with it I also find so much complaint and distrust, so much fear that I am doing wrong, so much doubt as to my morals and principles, and fear lest I should be led away by bad company and the like, that, after I have read them, I am miserable for a week. I feel as though I had been guilty of every crime, and I have passed many sleepless nights after receiving letters from you. I shall not sleep to-night in consequence of passages in your letters just received." Here he quotes from his mother's letter and answers: "Now as to the young man's living for six hundred dollars, I know who it is of whom you speak. It is Dr. Parkman, who made it his boast that he would live for that sum, but you did not enquire _how_ he lived. I can tell you. He never refused an invitation to dine, breakfast, or tea, which he used to obtain often by pushing himself into everybody's company. When he did not succeed in getting invitations, he invited himself to breakfast, dine, or sup with some of his friends. He has often walked up to breakfast with us, a distance of three or four miles. If he failed in getting a dinner or meal at any of these places, he either used to go without, or a bit of bread answered the purpose till next meal. In his dress he was so shabby and uncouth that any decent person would be ashamed to walk with him in the street. Above all, his notorious meanness in his money matters, his stickling with his poor washerwoman for a halfpenny and with others for a farthing, and his uniform stinginess on all occasions rendered him notoriously disgusting to all his acquaintances, and affords, I should imagine, but a poor example for imitation.... "The fact is I could live for _fifty_ pounds a year if my only object was to live cheap, and, on the other hand, if I was allowed one thousand pounds a year, I could spend it all without the least extravagance in obtaining greater advantages in my art. But as your goodness has allowed me but two hundred pounds (and I wish you again to receive my sincere thanks for this allowance), should not my sole endeavor be to spend all this to the utmost advantage; to keep as closely within the bounds of that allowance as possible, and would not _economy_ in this instance consist in rigidly keeping up to this rule? If this is a true statement of the case, then have I been perfectly economical, for I have not yet overrun my allowance, and I think I shall be able to return home without having exceeded it a single shilling. If I have done this, and still continue to do it, why, in every letter I receive from home, is the injunction repeated of _being economical?_ It makes me exceedingly unhappy, especially when I am conscious of having used my utmost endeavors, ever since I have been in England, to be rigidly so. "As to _industry_, in which mama fears I am falling off, I gave you an account in my last letter (by Mr. Ralston) of the method I use in parcelling out my time. Since writing that letter the spring and summer are approaching fast, and the days increasing. Of course I can employ more of the time than in the winter. Mr. Leslie and myself rise at five o'clock in the morning and walk about a mile and a half to Burlington, where are the famous Elgin Marbles, the works of Phidias and Praxiteles, brought by Lord Elgin from Athens. From these we draw three hours every morning, wet or dry, before breakfast, and return home just as the bustle begins in London, for they are late risers in London. When we go out of a morning we meet no one but the watchman, who goes his rounds for an hour and a half after we are up. Last summer Mr. Leslie and I used to paint in the open air in the fields three hours before breakfast, and often before sunrise, to study the morning effect on the landscape. "Now, being conscious of employing my time in the most industrious manner possible, you can but faintly conceive the mortification and sorrow with which I read that part of mama's letter. I was so much hurt that I read it to Mr. Allston, and requested he would write to you and give you an account of my spending my time. He seemed very much astonished when I read it to him, and _authorized me to tell you from him that it was impossible for any one to be more indefatigable in his studies than I am_. "Mama mentions in her letter that she hears that Mr. Leslie supports his mother and sisters by his labors. This is not the case. Leslie was supported by three or four individuals in Philadelphia till within a few months past. About a year ago he sold a large picture which he painted (whilst I was on my fruitless trip to Bristol for money) for a hundred guineas. Since that he has had a number of commissions in portraits and is barely able to support himself; indeed, he tells me this evening that he has but £20 left. He is a very economical and a most excellent young man. His expenses in a year are, on an average, from £230 to £250; Mr. Allston's (single) expenses not less than £300 per annum, and I know of no artist among all my acquaintance whose expenses in a year are less than £200." Returning now to the former chronological order, I shall include the following vehement letter written from London on December 22, 1814:-- MY DEAR PARENTS,--I arrived yesterday from Bristol, where I have been for several months past endeavoring to make a little in the way of my profession, but have completely failed, owing to several causes. First, the total want of anything like partiality for the fine arts in that place; the people there are but a remove from brutes. A "Bristol hog" is as proverbial in this country as a "Charlestown gentleman" is in Boston. Their whole minds are absorbed in trade; barter and gain and interest are all they understand. If I could have painted a picture for half a guinea by which they could have made twenty whilst I starved, _I could have starved_. Secondly, the virulence of national prejudice which rages now with tenfold acrimony. They no longer despise, they hate, the Americans. The battle on Champlain and before Flattsburgh has decided the business; the moans and bewailings for this business are really, to an American, quite comforting after their arrogant boasting of reducing us to unconditional submission. Is it strange that I should feel a little the effects of this universal hatred? I have felt it, and I have left Bristol after six months' perfect neglect. After having been invited there with promises of success, I have had the mortification to leave it without having, from Bristol, a single commission. More than that, and by far the worst, if I have not gone back in my art these six months, I have at least stood still, and to me this is the most trying reflection of all. I have been immured in the paralyzing atmosphere of trade till my mind was near partaking the infection. I have been listening to the grovelling, avaricious devotees of mammon, whose souls are narrowed to the studious contemplation of a hard-earned shilling, whose leaden imaginations never soared above the prospect of a good bargain, and whose _summum bonum_ is the inspiring idea of counting a hundred thousand: I say I have been listening to these miserly beings till the idea did not seem so repugnant of lowering my noble art to a trade, of painting for money, of degrading myself and the soul-enlarging art which I possess, to the narrow idea of merely getting money. Fie on myself! I am ashamed of myself; no, never will I degrade myself by making a trade of a profession. If I cannot live a gentleman, I will starve a gentleman. But I will dismiss this unpleasant subject, the particulars of which I can better relate to you than write. Suffice it to say that my ill-treatment does not prey upon my spirits; I am in excellent health and spirits and have great reason to be thankful to Heaven for thousands of blessings which one or two reverses shall not make me forget. Reverses do I call them? How trifling are my troubles to the millions of my fellow creatures who are afflicted with all the dreadful calamities incident to this life. Reverses do I call them? No, they are blessings compared with the miseries of thousands. Indeed, I am too ungrateful. If a thing does not result just as I wish, I begin to repine; I forget the load of blessings which I enjoy: life, health, parents whose kindness exceeds the kindest; brothers, relatives, and friends; advantages which no one else enjoys for the pursuit of a favorite art, besides numerous others; all which are forgotten the moment an unpleasant disappointment occurs. I am very ungrateful. With respect to peace, I can only say I should not be surprised if the preliminaries were signed before January. My reasons are that Great Britain cannot carry on the war any longer. She may talk of her inexhaustible resources, but she well knows that the great resource, the property tax, must fail next April. The people will not submit any longer; they are taking strong measures to prevent its continuance, and without it they cannot continue the war. Another great reason why I think there will be peace is the absolute _fear_ which they express of us. They fear the increase of our navy; they fear the increase of the army; they fear for Canada, and they are in dread of the further disgrace of their national character. Mr. Monroe's plan for raising 100,000 men went like a shock through the country. They saw the United States assume an attitude which they did not expect, and the same men who cried for "war, war," "thrash the Americans," now cry most lustily for peace. The union of the parties also has convinced them that we are determined to resist their most arrogant pretensions. Love to all, brothers, Miss Russell, etc. Yours very affectionately, SAML. F. B. MORSE. He ends the letter thus abruptly, probably realizing that he was beginning to tread on forbidden ground, but being unable to resist the temptation. While from this letter and others we can form a just estimate of the character and temperament of the man, it is also well to learn the opinion of his contemporaries; I shall, therefore, quote from a letter to the elder Morse of the Dr. Romeyn, whom the son was so anxious to have his father see, also from a letter of Mr. Van Schaick to Dr. Romeyn. The former was written in New York, on December 27, 1814. "The enclosed letter of my friend Mr. Van Schaick will give you the information concerning your son which you desire. He has been intimately acquainted with your son for a considerable time. You may rely on his account, as he is not only a gentleman of unquestionable integrity, but also a professor of the Lord Christ. What I saw and heard of your son pleased me, and I cannot but hope he will repay all your anxieties and realize your reasonable expectations by his conduct and the standing which he must and will acquire in society by that conduct." Mr. Van Schaick's letter was written also in New York, on December 14, 1814:-- "To those passages of Dr. Morse's letter respecting his son, to which you have directed my attention, I hasten to reply without any form, because it will gratify me to relieve the anxiety of the parents of my friend. His religious and moral character is unexceptionally good. He feels strongly for his country and expresses those feelings among his American friends with great sensibility. I do not know that he ever indulges in any observations in the company of Englishmen which are calculated to injure his standing among them. But, my dear sir, you fully know that an American cannot escape the sting of illiberal and false charges against his country and even its moral character, unless he almost entirely withholds himself from society. It cannot be expected that any human being should be so unfeeling as to suffer indignity in total silence. "But I do not think that any political collisions, which may incidentally and very infrequently arise, can injure him as an artist; for it is well known to you that the simple fact of his being an American is sufficient to prevent his rising rapidly into notice, since the possession of that character clogs the efforts, or, at least, somewhat clouds the fame of men of superior genius and established talent.... I advised Samuel to go to France and bury himself for six months in the Louvre; from thence to Italy, the seat of the arts. He inclined to the first part of the plan, and then to return home, but deferred putting it into execution till he heard from his father. Mr. Allston intended to winter in London. Morse has a fine taste and colors well. His drawing is capable of much improvement, but he is anxious to place himself at the head of his profession, and, with a little judicious encouragement, will probably succeed. That patient industry which has in all ages characterized the masters of the art, he will find it to his interest to apply to his studies the farther he advances in them. His success has been moderately good. If he could sell the pictures he has on hand, the avails would probably pay his way into France." Referring to these letters the father, writing on January 25, 1815, says:-- "We have had letters from Dr. Romeyn and Mr. Van Schaick concerning you which have comforted us much. Since receiving them we don't know but we have expressed ourselves, in our letters in answer to your last, a little stronger than we ought in regard to your _political_ feelings and conduct. I find others who have returned feel pretty much as you do. But it should be remembered that your situation as an artist is different from theirs. It is your wisdom to leave politics to politicians and be solely the artist. But if you are in France these cautions will probably not be necessary, as you will have no temptation to enter into any political discussions." On the 3d of February, 1815, Morse, in writing to his parents, has a very sad piece of news to communicate to them:-- "I write in great haste and much agitation. Mrs. Allston, the wife of our beloved friend, died last evening, and the event overwhelmed us all in the utmost sorrow. As for Mr. Allston, for several hours after the death of his wife he was almost bereft of reason. Mr. Leslie and I are applying our whole attention to him, and we have so far succeeded as to see him more composed." This was a terrible grief to all the little coterie of friends, for whom the Allston house had been a home. One of them, Mr. J.J. Morgan, in a long letter to Morse written from Wiltshire, thus expresses himself:-- "Gracious God! unsearchable, indeed, are thy ways! The insensible, the brutish, the wicked are powerful and everywhere, in everything successful; while Allston, who is everything that is amiable, kind, and good, has been bruised, blow after blow, and now, indeed, his cup is full. I am too unwell, too little recovered from the effect of your letter, to write much. Coleridge intends writing to-day; I hope he will. Allston may derive some little relief from knowing how much his friends partake of his grief." This was a time of great discouragement to the young artist. Through the failure of some of his letters to reach his parents in time, he had not received their permission to go to France until it was too late for him to go. The death of Mrs. Allston cast a gloom over all the little circle, and, to cap the climax, he was receiving no encouragement in his profession. On March 10, 1815, he writes:-- "My jaunt to Bristol in quest of money completely failed. When I was first there I expected, from the little connection I got into, I should be able to support myself. I was obliged to come to town on account of the exhibitions, and stayed longer than I expected, intending to return to Bristol. During this time I received two pressing letters from. Mr. Visscher (which I will show you), inviting me to come down, saying that I should have plenty of business. I accordingly hurried off. A gentleman, for whom I had before painted two portraits, had promised, if I would let him have them for ten guineas apiece, twelve being my price, that he would procure me five sitters. This I acceded to. I received twenty guineas and have heard nothing from the man since, though I particularly requested Mr. Visscher to enquire and remind him of his promise. Yet he never did anything more on the subject. I was there three months, gaining nothing in my art and without a single commission. Mr. Breed, of Liverpool, then came to Bristol. He took two landscapes which I had been amusing myself with (for I can say nothing more of them) at ten guineas each. I painted two more landscapes which are unsold. "Mr. Visscher, a man worth about a hundred thousand pounds, and whose annual expenses, with a large family of seven children, are not one thousand, had a little frame for which he repeatedly desired me to paint a picture. I told him I would as soon as I had finished one of my landscapes. I began it immediately, without his knowing it, and determined to surprise him with it. I also had two frames which fitted Mr. Breed's pictures, and which I was going to give to Mr. Breed with his pictures. But Mr. Visscher was particularly pleased with the frames, as they were a pair, and told me not to send them to Mr. Breed as he should like to have them himself, and wished I would paint him pictures to fit them (the two other landscapes before mentioned). I accordingly was employed three months longer in painting these three pictures. I finished them; he was very much pleased with them; all his family were very much pleased with them; all who saw them were pleased with them. But he _declined taking them_ without even asking my price, and said that he had more pictures than he knew what to do with. "Mr. and Mrs. Allston heard him say twenty times he wished I would paint him a picture for the frame. Mr. Allston, who knew what I was about, told him, no doubt, I would do it for him, and in a week after I had completed it. I had told Mr. Visscher also that I was considerably in debt, and that, when he had paid me for these pictures, I should be something in pocket; and, by his not objecting to what I said, I took it for granted (and from his requesting me to paint the picture) that the thing was certain. But thus it was, without giving any reason in the world, except that he had pictures enough, he declined taking them, making me spend three months longer in Bristol than I otherwise should have done; standing still in my art, if not actually going back; and forcing me to run in debt for some necessary expenses of clothing in Bristol, and my passage from and back to London. During all this time not a single commission for a portrait, _many_ of which were promised me, nor a single call from any one to look at my pictures. Thus ended my jaunt in quest of money. "Do not think that this disappointment is in consequence of any misconduct of mine. Mr. Allston, who was with me, experienced the same treatment, and had it not been for his uncle, the American Consul, he might have starved for the Bristol people. His uncle was the only one who purchased any of his pictures. Since I have been in London I have been endeavoring to regain what I lost in Bristol, and I hope I have so far succeeded as to say: '_I have not gone back in my art_.' "In order to retrench my expenses I have taken a painting-room out of the house, at about half of the expense of my former room. Though inconvenient in many respects, yet my circumstances require it and I willingly put up with it. As for _economy_, do not be at any more pains in introducing that personage to me. We have long been friends and necessary companions. If you could look in on me and see me through a day I think you would not tell me in every letter to _economize more_. It is impossible; I cannot economize more. I live on as plain food and as little as is for my health; less and plainer would make me ill, for I have given it a fair experiment. As for clothes, I have been decent and that is all. If I visited a great deal this would be a heavy expense, but, the less I go out, the less need I care for clothes, except for cleanliness. My only heavy expenses are colors, canvas, frames, etc., and these are heavy." A number of pages of this letter are missing, much to my regret. He must have been telling of some of the great events which were happening on the Continent, probably of the Return from Elba, for it begins again abruptly. "--when he might have avoided it by quietness; by undertaking so bold an attempt as he has done without being completely sure of success, and having laid his plans deeply; and, thirdly, I knew the feelings of the French people were decidedly in his favor, more especially the military. They feel as though Louis XVIII was forced upon them by their conquerors; they feel themselves a conquered nation, and they look to Bonaparte as the only man who can retrieve their character for them. "All these reasons rushing into my mind at the time, I gave it as my opinion that Napoleon would again be Emperor of the French, and again set the world by the ears, unless he may have learned a lesson from his adversity. But this cannot be expected. I fear we are apt yet to see a darker and more dreadful storm than any we have yet seen. This is, indeed, an age of wonders. "Let what will happen in Europe, let us have peace at home, among ourselves more particularly. But the character we have acquired among the nations of Europe in our late contest with England, has placed us on such high ground that none of them, England least of all, will wish to embroil themselves with us." This was written just after peace had been established between England and America, and in a letter from his mother, written about the same time in March, 1815, she thus comments on the joyful news: "We have now the heartfelt pleasure of congratulating you on the return of peace between our country and Great Britain. May it never again be interrupted, but may both countries study the things that make for peace, and love as brethren." It never has been interrupted up to the present day, for, as I am pursuing my pleasant task of bringing these letters together for publication, in the year of our Lord 1911, the newspapers are agitating the question of a fitting commemoration of a hundred years of peace between Great Britain and the United States. Further on in this same letter the mother makes this request of her son: "When you return we wish you to bring some excellent black or corbeau cloth to make your good father and brothers each a suit of clothes. Your papa also wishes you to get made a handsome black cloth cloak for him; one that will fit you he thinks will fit him. Be sure and attend to this. Your mama would like some grave colored silk for a gown, if it can be had but for little. Don't forget that your mother is no dwarf, and that a large pattern suits her better than a small one." The letter of April 28, from which I have already quoted, has this sentence at the beginning: "Your letters suppose me in Paris, _but I am not there_; you hope that I went in October last; I intended going and wished it at that time exceedingly, but I had not leave from you to go and Mr. Bromfield advised me by no means to go until I heard from you. You must perceive from this case how impossible it is for me to form plans, and transmit them across the Atlantic for approbation, thus letting an opportunity slip which is irrecoverable." CHAPTER IX MAY 3. 1815--OCTOBER 18, 1816 Decides to return home in the fall.--Hopes to return to Europe in a year.--Ambitions.--Paints "Judgment of Jupiter."--Not allowed to compete for premium.--Mr. Russell's portrait.--Reproof of his parents.--Battle of Waterloo.--Wilberforce.--Painting of "Dying Hercules" received by parents.--Much admired.--Sails for home.--Dreadful voyage lasting fifty-eight days.--Extracts from his journal.--Home at last. It was with great reluctance that Morse made his preparations to return home. He thought that, could he but remain a year or two longer in an atmosphere much more congenial to an artist than that which prevailed in America at that time, he would surely attain to greater eminence in his profession. He, in common with many others, imagined that, with the return of peace, an era of great prosperity would at once set in. But in this he was mistaken, for history records that just the opposite occurred. The war had made demands on manufacturers, farmers, and provision dealers which were met by an increase in inventions and in production, and this meant wealth and prosperity to many. When the war ceased, this demand suddenly fell off; the soldiers returning to their country swelled the army of the unemployed, and there resulted increased misery among the lower classes, and a check to the prosperity of the middle and upper classes. It would seem, therefore, that Fate dealt more kindly with the young man than he, at that time, realized; for, had he remained, his discouragements would undoubtedly have increased; whereas, by his return to his native land, although meeting with many disappointments and suffering many hardships, he was gradually turned into a path which ultimately led to fame and fortune. On May 3, 1815, he writes to his parents:-- "With respect to returning home, I shall make my arrangements to be with you (should my life be spared) by the end of September next, or the beginning of October; but it will be necessary that I should be in England again (provided always Providence permits) by September following, as arrangements which I have made will require my presence. This I will fully explain when I meet you. "The moment I get home I wish to begin work, so that I should like to have some portraits bespoken in season. I shall charge forty dollars less than Stuart for my portraits, so that, if any of my good friends are ready, I will begin the moment I have said 'how do ye do' to them. "I wish to do as much as possible in the year I am with you. If I could get a commission or two for some large pictures for a church or public hall, to the amount of two or three thousand dollars, I should feel much gratified. I do not despair of such an event, for, through your influence with the clergy and their influence with their people, I think some commission for a scripture subject for a church might be obtained; a crucifixion, for instance. "It may, perhaps, be said that the country is not rich enough to purchase large pictures; yes, but two or three thousand dollars can be paid for an entertainment which is gone in a day, and whose effects are to demoralize and debilitate, whilst the same sum expended on a fine picture would be adding an ornament to the country which would be lasting. It would tend to elevate and refine the public feeling by turning their thoughts from sensuality and luxury to intellectual pleasures, and it would encourage and support a class of citizens who have always been reckoned among the brightest stars in the constellation of American worthies, and who are, to this day, compelled to exile themselves from their country and all that is dear to them, in order to obtain a bare subsistence. "I do not speak of _portrait-painters;_ had I no higher thoughts than being a first-rate portrait-painter, I would have chosen a far different profession. My ambition is to be among those who shall revive the splendor of the fifteenth century; to rival the genius of a Raphael, a Michael Angelo, or a Titian; my ambition is to be enlisted in the constellation of genius now rising in this country; I wish to shine, not by a light borrowed from them, but to strive to shine the brightest. "If I could return home and stay a year visiting my friends in various parts of the Union, and, by painting portraits, make sufficient to bring me to England again at the end of the year, whilst I obtained commissions enough to employ me and support me while in England, I think, in the course of a year or two, I shall have obtained sufficient credit to enable me to return home, if not for the remainder of my life, at least to pay a good long visit. "In all these plans I wish you to understand me as always taking into consideration _the will of Providence;_ and, in every plan for future operation, I hope I am not forgetful of the uncertainty of human life, and I wish always to say _should I live_ I will do this or that.... "I perceive by your late letters that you suppose I am painting a large picture. I did think of it some time ago and was only deterred on account of the expenses attending it. All this I will explain to your entire satisfaction when I see you, and why I do not think it expedient to make an exhibition when I return. "I perceive also that you are a little too sanguine with respect to me and expect a little too much from me. You must recollect I am yet but a student and that a picture of any merit is not painted in a day. Experienced as Mr. West is (and he also paints quicker than any other artist), his last large picture cost him between three and four years' constant attention. Mr. Allston was nearly two years in painting his large picture. Young Haydon was three years painting his large picture, is now painting another on which he has been at work one year and expects to be two years more on it. Leslie was ten months painting his picture, and my 'Hercules' cost me nearly a year's study. So you see that large pictures are not the work of a moment. "All these matters we will talk over one of these days, and all will be set right. I had better paint Miss Russell's, Aunt Salisbury's, and Dr. Bartlett's pictures at home for a very good reason I will give you." He did, however, complete a large historical, or rather mythological, painting before leaving England. Whether it was begun before or after writing the foregoing letter, I do not know, but Mr. Dunlap (whom I have already quoted) has this to say about it:-- "Encouraged by the flattering reception of his first works in painting and in sculpture, the young artist redoubled his energies in his studies and determined to contend for the highest premium in historical composition offered by the Royal Academy at the beginning of the year 1814. The subject was 'The Judgment of Jupiter in the case of Apollo, Marpessa and Idas.' The premium offered was a gold medal and fifty guineas. The decision was to take place in December of 1815. The composition containing four figures required much study, but, by the exercise of great diligence, the picture was completed by the middle of July. "Our young painter had now been in England four years, one year longer than the time allowed him by his parents, and he had to return immediately home; but he had finished his picture under the conviction, strengthened by the opinion of West, that it would be allowed to remain and compete with those of the other candidates. To his regret the petition to the council of the Royal Academy for this favor, handed in to them by West and advocated strongly by him and Fuseli, was not granted. He was told that it was necessary, according to the rules of the Academy, that the artist should be present to receive the premium; it could not be received by proxy. Fuseli expressed himself in very indignant terms at the narrowness of this decision. "Thus disappointed, the artist had but one mode of consolation. He invited West to see his picture before he packed it up, at the same time requesting Mr. West to inform him through Mr. Leslie, after the premium should be adjudged in December, what chance he would have had if he had remained. Mr. West, after sitting before the picture for a long time, promised to comply with the request, but added: 'You had better remain, sir.'" In a letter quoted, without a date, by Mr. Prime, which was written from Bristol, but which seems to have been lost, I find the following:-- "James Russell, Esq., has been extremely attentive to me. He has a very fine family consisting of four daughters and, I think, a son who is absent in the East Indies. The daughters are very beautiful, accomplished, and amiable, especially the youngest, Lucy. I came very near being at my old game of falling in love, but I find that love and painting are quarrelsome companions, and that the house of my heart is too small for both of them; so I have turned Mrs. Love out-of-doors. Time enough, thought I (with true old bachelor complacency), time enough for you these ten years to come. Mr. Russell's portrait I have painted as a present to Miss Russell, and will send it to her as soon as I can get an opportunity. It is an excellent likeness of him." He must either have said more in this letter, or have written another after the family verdict (that terrible family verdict) had been pronounced, for in the letter of April 23, 1815, from which I have already quoted, he refers to this portrait as follows:-- "As to the portrait which I painted of Mr. Russell, I am sorry you mentioned it to Miss Russell, as I particularly requested that you would not, because, in case of failure, it would be a disappointment to her; but as you have told her, I must now explain. In the first place it is not a picture that will do me any credit. I was unfortunate in the light which I chose to paint him in; I wished to make it my best picture and so made it my worst, for I worked too timidly on it. It is a likeness, indeed, a very strong likeness, but the family are not pleased with it, and they say that I have not flattered him, that I have made him too old. So I determined I would not send it, indeed, I promised them I would not send it; but, notwithstanding, as I know Miss Russell will be good enough to comply with my conditions, I will send it directly; for, as it is a good likeness, every one except the family knowing it instantly, and Mr. Allston saying that it is a _very strong likeness_, it will on that account be a gratification to her. But I _particularly_ and _expressly request_ that it be kept in a private room to be shown _only_ to friends and relations, and that I _may never be mentioned as the painter;_ and, moreover, that no _artist_ or _miniature painter_ be allowed to see it. On these conditions I send it, taking for granted they will be complied with, and without waiting for an answer." The parents of that generation were not frugal of counsel and advice, even when their children had reached years of discretion and had flown far away from the family nest. The father, in a letter of May 20, 1815, thus gently reproves his son:-- "To-day we have received your letters to March 23.... You evidently misconceived our views in the letters to which you allude, and felt much too strongly our advice and remarks in respect to your writing us so much on politics. What we said was the affectionate advice of your parents, who loved you very tenderly, and who were not unwilling you should judge for yourself though you might differ from them. We have ever made a very candid allowance for you, and so have all your friends, and we have never for a moment believed we should differ a fortnight after you should come home and converse with us. You have, in the ardor of feeling, construed many observations in our letters as censuring you and designed to wound your feelings, which were not intended in the remotest degree by us for any such purpose.... "I am sorry to hear of the death of Mr. Thornton. He was a good man." His mother was much less gentle in her reproof. I cull the following sentences from a long letter of June 1, 1815:-- "In perfect consistency with the feelings towards you all, above described, we may and ought to tell you, and that with the greatest plainness, of anything that we deem improper in any part of your conduct, either in a civil, social, or religious view. This we feel it our duty to do and shall continue to do as long as we live; and it will ever be your duty to receive from us the advice, counsel, and reproof, which we may, from time to time, favor you with, with the most perfect respect and dutiful observance; and, when you differ from us on any point whatever, let that difference be conveyed to us in the most delicate and gentlemanly manner. Let this be done not only while you are under age and dependent on your parents for your support, but when you are independent, and when you are head of a family, and even of a profession, if you ever should be either.... I have dwelt longer on this subject, as I think you have, in some of your last letters, been somewhat deficient in that respect which your own good sense will at once convince you was, on all accounts, due, and which I know you feel the propriety of without any further observations." On June 2, 1815, the father writes:-- "We have just received a letter from your uncle, James E.B. Finley, of Carolina. He fears you will remain in Europe, but hopes you have so much _amor patrice_ as to return and display your talents in raising the military and naval glory of the nation, by exhibiting on canvas some of her late naval and land actions, and also promote the fine arts among us. He is, you know, an enthusiastic Republican and patriot and a warm approver of the late war, but an amiable, excellent man. I am by no means certain that it would not be best for you to come home this fall and spend a year or two in this country in painting some portraits, but especially historical pieces and landscapes. You might, I think, in this way succeed in getting something to support you afterwards in Europe for a few years. "I hope the time is not distant when artists in your profession, and of the first class, will be honorably patronized and supported in this country. In this case you can come and live with us, which would give us much satisfaction." The young man still took a deep interest in affairs political, and speculated rather keenly on the outcome of the tremendous happenings on the Continent. On June 26, 1815, he writes:-- "You will have heard of the dreadful battle in Flanders before this reaches you. The loss of the English is immense, indeed almost all their finest officers and the flower of their army; not less than 800 officers and upwards of 15,000 men, some say 20,000. But it has been decisive if the news of to-day be true, that Napoleon has abdicated. What the event of these unparalleled times will be no mortal can pretend to foresee. I have much to tell you when I see you. Perhaps you had better not write after the receipt of this, as it may be more than two months before an answer could be received. "P.S. The papers of to-night confirm the news of this morning. Bonaparte is no longer a dangerous man; he has abdicated, and, in all probability, a republican form of government will be the future government of France, if they are capable of enjoying such a government. But no one can foresee events; there may be a long peace, or the world may be torn worse than it yet has been. Revolution seems to succeed revolution so rapidly that, in looking back on our lives, we seem to have lived a thousand years, and wonders of late seem to scorn to come alone; they come in clusters." The battle in Flanders was the battle of Waterloo, which was fought on the 18th day of June, and on the 6th of July the allied armies again entered Paris. Referring to these events many years later, Morse said:-- "It was on one of my visits, in the year 1815, that an incident occurred which well illustrates the character of the great philanthropist [Mr. Wilberforce]. As I passed through Hyde Park on my way to Kensington Gore, I observed that great crowds had gathered, and rumors were rife that the allied armies had entered Paris, that Napoleon was a prisoner, and that the war was virtually at an end; and it was momentarily expected that the park guns would announce the good news to the people. "On entering the drawing-room at Mr. Wilberforce's I found the company, consisting of Mr. Thornton [his memory must have played him false in this particular as Mr. Thornton died some time before], Mr. Macaulay, Mr. Grant, the father, and his two sons Robert and Charles, and Robert Owen of Lanark, in quite excited conversation respecting the rumors that prevailed. Mr. Wilberforce expatiated largely on the prospects of a universal peace in consequence of the probable overthrow of Napoleon, whom naturally he considered the great disturber of the nations. At every period, however, he exclaimed: 'It is too good to be true, it cannot be true.' He was altogether skeptical in regard to the rumors. "The general subject, however, was the absorbing topic at the dinner-table. After dinner the company joined the ladies in the drawing-room. I sat near a window which looked put in the direction of the distant park. Presently a flash and a distant dull report of a gun attracted my attention, but was unnoticed by the rest of the company. Another flash and report assured me that the park guns were firing, and at once I called Mr. Wilberforce's attention to the fact. Running to the window he threw it up in time to see the next flash and hear the report. Clasping his hands in silence, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, he stood for a few moments perfectly absorbed in thought, and, before uttering a word, embraced his wife and daughters, and shook hands with every one in the room. The scene was one not to be forgotten." We learn from a letter of his mother's dated June 27, 1815, that the painting of the "Dying Hercules" had at last been received, but that the plaster cast of the same subject was still mysteriously missing. The painting was much admired, and the mother says:-- "Your friend Mr. Tisdale says the picture of the Hercules ought to be in Boston as the beginning of a gallery of paintings, and that the Bostonians ought not to permit it to go from here. Whether they will or not, I know not. I place no confidence in them, but they may take a fit into their heads to patronize the fine arts, and, in that case, they have it in their power undoubtedly to do as much as any city in this country towards their support." Morse had now made up his mind to return home, although his parents, in their letters of that time, had given him leave to stay longer if he thought it would be for his best interest, but his father had made it clear that he must, from this time forth, depend on his own exertions. He hoped that (Providence permitting) he need only spend a year at home in earning enough money to warrant his returning to Europe. Providence, however, willed otherwise, and he did not return to Europe until fourteen years later. The next letter is dated from Liverpool, August 8, 1815, and is but a short one. I shall quote the first few sentences:-- "I have arrived thus far on my way home. I left London the 5th and arrived in this place yesterday the 7th, at which time, within an hour, four years ago, I landed in England. I have not yet determined by what vessel to return; I have a choice of a great many. The Ceres is the first that sails, but I do not like her accommodations. The Liverpool packet sails about the 25th, and, as she has always been a favorite ship with me, it is not improbable I may return in her." He decided to sail in the Ceres, however, to his sorrow, for the voyage home was a long and dreadful one. The record of those terrible fifty-eight days, carefully set down in his journal, reads like an Odyssey of misfortune and almost of disaster. To us of the present day, who cross the ocean in a floating hotel, in a few days, arriving almost on the hour, the detailed account of the dangers, discomforts, and privations suffered by the travellers of an earlier period seems almost incredible. Brave, indeed, were our fathers who went down to the sea in ships, for they never knew when, if ever, they would reach the other shore, and there could be no C.Q.D. or S.O.S. flashed by wireless in the Morse code to summon assistance in case of disaster. In this case storm succeeded storm; head winds were encountered almost all the way across; fine weather and fair winds were the exception, and provisions and fresh water were almost exhausted. The following quotations from the journal will give some idea of the terrors experienced by the young man, whose appointed time had not yet arrived. He still had work to do in the world which could be done by no other. "_Monday, August 21, 1815._ After waiting fourteen days in Liverpool for a fair wind, we set sail at three o'clock in the afternoon with the wind at southeast, in company with upwards of two hundred sail of vessels, which formed a delightful prospect. We gradually lost sight of different vessels as it approached night, and at sunset they were dispersed all over the horizon. In the night the wind sprung up strong and fair, and in the morning we were past Holyhead. "_Tuesday, 22d August._ Wind directly ahead; beating all day; thick weather and gales of wind; passengers all sick and I not altogether well. Little progress to-day. "_Wednesday, 23d August._ A very disagreeable day, boisterous, head winds and rainy. Beating across the channel from the Irish to the Welsh coast. * * * * * "_Friday, 25th August._ Dreadful still; blowing harder and harder; quite a storm and a lee shore; breakers in sight, tacked and stood over again to the Irish shore under close-reefed topsails. At night saw Waterford light again. * * * * * "_Monday, 28th August._ A fair wind springing up (ten o'clock). Going at the rate of seven knots on our true course. We have had just a week of the most disagreeable weather possible. I hope this is the beginning of better winds, and that, in reasonable time, we shall see our native shore. "_Tuesday, 29th August._ Still disappointed in fair winds.... Since, then, I can find nothing consoling on deck, let us see what is in the cabin. All of us make six, four gentlemen and two ladies. Mrs. Phillips, Mrs. Drake, Captain Chamberlain, Mr. Bancroft, Mr. Lancaster, and myself. Our amusements are eating and drinking, sleeping and backgammon. Seasickness we have thrown overboard, and, all things considered, we try to enjoy ourselves and sometimes succeed. * * * * * "_Thursday, 31st August._ Wind as directly ahead as it can blow; squally all night and tremendous sea. What a contrast does this voyage make with my first. This day makes the tenth day out and we have advanced towards home about three hundred miles. In my last voyage, on the tenth day, we had accomplished one half our voyage, sixteen hundred miles. "_Friday, 1st September._ Dreadful weather; wind still ahead; foggy, rainy, and heavy swell; patience almost exhausted, but the will of Heaven be done. If this weather is to continue I hope we shall have fortitude to bear it. All is for the best. "_Saturday, 9th September._ Nineteenth day out and not yet more than one third of our way to Boston. Oh! when shall we end this tedious passage? "_Sunday, 10th September._ Calm with dreadful sea. Early this morning discovered a large ship to the southward, dismasted, probably in the late gale. Discovered an unpleasant trait in our captain's character which I shall merely allude to. I am sorry to say he did not demonstrate that promptitude to assist a fellow creature in distress which I expected to find inherent in a seaman's breast, and especially in an American seaman's. It was not till after three or four hours' delay, and until the entreaties of his passengers and some threatening murmurs on my part of a public exposure in Boston of his conduct, that he ordered the ship to bear down upon the wreck, and then with slackened sail and much grumbling. A ship and a brig were astern of us, and, though farther by some miles from the distressed ship than we were, they instantly bore down for her, and rendered her this evening the assistance we might have done at noon. We are now standing on our way with a fair wind springing up at southeast, which I suppose will last a few hours. Spent the day in religious exercises, and was happy to observe on the part of the rest of the passengers a due regard for the solemnity of the day. "_Monday, 11th September._ Wind still ahead and the sky threatening.--Ten o'clock. Beginning to blow hard; taking in sails one after another.-- Three o'clock. A perfect storm; the gale a few days ago but a gentle breeze to it.... I never witnessed so tremendous a gale; the wind blowing so that it can scarcely be faced; the sea like ink excepting the whiteness of the surge, which is carried into the air like clouds of dust, or like the driving of snow. The wind piping through our bare rigging sounds most terrific; indeed, it is a most awful sight. The sea in mountains breaking over our bows, and a single wave dispersing in mist through the violence of the storm; ship rolling to such a degree that we are compelled to keep our berths; cabin dark with the deadlights in. Oh! who would go to sea when he can stay on shore! The wind in southwest driving us back again, so that we are losing all the advantages of our fair wind of yesterday, which lasted, as I supposed, two or three hours. * * * * * "_Tuesday, 12th September._ Gale abated, but head wind still.... "_Wednesday, 13th September._ All last night a tremendous storm from northwest. "_Thursday, 14th September._ The storm increased to a tremendous height last night. The clouds at sunset were terrific in the extreme, and, in the evening, still more so with lightning. The sea has risen frightfully and everything wears a most alarming aspect. At 3 A.M. a squall struck us and laid us almost wholly under water; we came near losing our foremast.... None of us able to sleep from the dreadful noises; creakings and howlings and thousands of indescribable sounds. Lord! who can endure the terror of thy storm!... Yesterday's sea was as molehills to mountains compared with the sea to-day.... "_Friday, 15th September._ The storm somewhat abated this morning, but still blowing hard from southwest.... Twenty-four days out to-day. "_Saturday, 16th September._ Blowing a gale of wind from southwest. Noon almost calm for half an hour, when, on a sudden, the wind shifted to the northeast, when it blew such a hurricane that every one on board declared they never saw its equal. For four hours it blew so hard that all the sea was in a perfect foam, and resembled a severe snowstorm more than a dry blow. If the wind roared before, it now shrilly whistled through our rigging." After some days of calm with winds sometimes favorable but light, and, when fresh, ahead, the journal continues:-- "_Monday, 25th September._ Another gale of wind last night, ahead, dreadful sea; took in sail and lay to all night.... Beginning to think of our provisions; bread mouldy and little left; sugar, little left; fresh provisions, little left; beans, none left; salt pork, little left; salt beef, a plenty; water, plenty; stores of passengers, some gone and the rest drawing to a conclusion; patience drawing to a conclusion; in short all is falling short and drawing to a conclusion except _our voyage and my journal_.... "_Tuesday, 26th September._... Find our captain to be a complete old woman; takes in sail at night and never knows when to set it again; the longer we know him, the more surly he grows; he is not even civil.... Several large turtles passed within a few feet of us yesterday and to-day, and, considering we are near the end of our provisions, one would have thought our captain would be anxious to take them; but no, it was too much trouble to lower the boat from the stern. * * * * * "_Friday, 29th September._ Last night another dreadful gale, as severe as any since we have been out. * * * * * "_Monday, 2d October._ Last night another gale of wind from northwest and is this morning still blowing hard and cold from the same quarter. What a dreadful passage is ours; we seem destined to have no fair wind, and to have a gale of wind every other day. "_Saturday, 7th October._ Wind still ahead and blowing hard; very cold and dismal. Oh! when shall we see home!... I thought I could observe a kind of warfare between the different winds since we have been at sea. The west wind seems to be the tyrant at present, as it were the Bonaparte of the air. He has been blowing his gales very lavishly, and no other wind has been able to check him with any success. "I recollect on one day, while it was calm, a thick bank of clouds began to rise in the northeast; no other clouds were in the sky. They rose gently in the calm as if fearful of rousing their deadly foe in the west. Now they had gained one third of the heavens when, behold, in the southwest another bank of thick black clouds came rolling up, and, reddening in the rays of the setting sun, marched on, teeming with fury. They soon gained the middle of the heavens where the frightened northeast had not yet reached. They met, they mixed, the routed northeast skulked back, while the thick column of the southwest, having driven back its enemy, slowly returned to its repose, proudly displaying a thousand various colors, as if for victory. "At another time success seemed to be more in favor of the northeast; for, shortly after this great defeat, the southwest came forth and, like a petty tyrant intoxicated with success, began to oppress the subject ocean. It blew its gales and filled the air with clouds and rain and fog. Suddenly the northeast, as under cover of the darkness, and as one driven to desperation, burst forth on its too confident enemy with redoubled fury. Old ocean groans at the dreadful conflict; for, as in the warring of two hostile armies on the domains of a neutral, the neutral suffers most severely, so the neutral ocean seemed doomed to bear the weight of all their rancor. The southwest flies affrighted. And now the northeast, vaunting forth, stalks with the rage of an angry demon over the waters; the ocean foams beneath his breath, it steams and smokes and heaves in agony its troubled bosom. "But, alas! how few can bear prosperity; how few, when victory crowns their efforts, can rule with moderation; how often, does it happen that we reënact the same scenes for which we punished our enemy. For now has the northeast become the tyrant and rules with tenfold rigor; he pours forth all his strength and, drunk with success as soldiers after a victory, at length sinks away into an inglorious calm. "Now does the southwest collect his routed forces, checked but not conquered; he again advances on his recreant foe and seizes the vacant throne without a struggle. Ill-fated northeast! hadst thou but ruled with moderation when thou hadst gained, with masterly manoeuvre, the throne of the air; hadst thou reserved thy forces against surprise, and not, with prodigal profuseness, lavished them on thy harmless subjects, thou hadst still been monarch of the sea and air; all would have blessed thee as the restorer of peace, and as the deliverer of the ocean from western despotism. But alas! how art thou fallen an everlasting example of overreaching oppression. "This evening there is a fine fair wind from northeast carrying us on at the rate of five or six knots. This is the cause of the foregoing rhapsody. Had it been otherwise than a fair wind I should never have been in spirits to have written so much stuff." Still tantalized by baffling head winds and alternating calms and gales, they were, however, gradually approaching the coast. Omitting the entries of the next eleven days, I shall quote the final pages of the journal. "_Wednesday, 18th October._ Last night was a sleepless night to us all. Everything wore the appearance of a hard storm; all was dull in the cabin; scarce a word was spoken; every one wore a serious aspect and, as any one came from the deck into the cabin, the rest put up an inquisitive and apprehensive look, with now and then a faint, 'Well, how does it look now?' Our captain, as well as the passenger captain, were both alarmed, and were poring over the chart in deep deliberation. A syllable was now and then caught from them, but all seemed despairing. "At ten o'clock we lay to till twelve; at four again till five. Rainy, thick, and hazy, but not blowing very hard. All is dull and dismal; a dreadful state of suspense, between feelings of exquisite joy in the hope of soon seeing home, and feelings of gloomy apprehension that a few hours may doom us to destruction. "_Half-past seven._... Heaven be praised! The joyful tidings are just announced of _Land!!_ Oh! who can conceive our feelings now? The wretch condemned to the scaffold, who receives, at the moment he expects to die, the joyful reprieve, he can best conceive the state of our minds. "The land is Cape Cod, distant about ten miles. Joyful, joyful is the thought. To-night we shall, in all probability, be in Boston. We are going at the rate of seven knots. "_Half-past 9._ Manomet land in sight. "_Ten o'clock._ Cape Ann in sight. "_Eleven o'clock._ Boston Light in sight. "_One o'clock._ HOME!!!" [Illustration: On board the Ship Ceres Boston Harbour My Dear Parents, Thanks to a kind Providence who has preserved me through all dangers, I have at length arrived in my native land. I send this just to prepare you, I shall be with you as soon as I can possibly get on shore. We have had 58 days passage long, boisterous, and dangerous, but more when I see you. Pray tell me by the bearer if I shall find all well. Your very affectionate Son, Samuel B. Morse October 18, 1875] CHAPTER X APRIL 10, 1816--OCTOBER 5, 1818 Very little success at home.--Portrait of ex-President John Adams.-- Letter to Allston on sale of his "Dead Man restored to Life."--Also apologizes for hasty temper.--Reassured by Allston.--Humorous letter from Leslie.--Goes to New Hampshire to paint portraits.--Concord.--Meets Miss Lucretia Walker.--Letters to his parents concerning her.--His parents reply.--Engaged to Miss Walker.--His parents approve.--Many portraits painted.--Miss Walker's parents consent.--Success in Portsmouth.--Morse and his brother invent a pump.--Highly endorsed by President Day and Eli Whitney.--Miss Walker visits Charlestown.--Morse's religious convictions.--More success in New Hampshire.--Winter in Charleston, South Carolina.--John A. Alston.--Success.--Returns north.--Letter from his uncle Dr. Finley.--Marriage. There is no record of the meeting of the parents and the long-absent son, but it is easy to picture the joy of that occasion, and to imagine the many heart-to-heart conversations when all differences, political and otherwise, were smoothed over. He remained at home that winter, but seems to have met with but slight success in his profession. His "Judgment of Jupiter" was much admired, but found no purchaser, nor did he receive any commissions for such large historical paintings as it was his ambition to produce. He was asked by a certain Mr. Joseph Delaplaine, of Philadelphia, to paint a portrait of ex-President John Adams for _half_ price, the portrait to be engraved and included in "Delaplaine's Repository of the Lives and Portraits of Distinguished American Characters," and, from letters of a later date, I believe that Morse consented to this. It appears that he must also have received but few, if any, orders for portraits, for, in the following summer, he started on a painting tour through New Hampshire, which proved to be of great moment to him in more ways than one. Before we follow him on that tour, however, I shall quote from a letter written by him to his friend Washington Allston:-- Boston, April 10, 1816. MY DEAR SIR,--I have but one moment to write you by a vessel which sails to-morrow morning. I wrote Leslie by New Packet some months since and am hourly expecting an answer. I congratulate you, my dear sir, on the sale of your picture of the "Dead Man." I suppose you will have received notice, before this reaches you, that the Philadelphia Academy of Arts have purchased it for the sum of thirty-five hundred dollars. Bravo for our country! I am sincerely rejoiced for you and for the disposition which it shows of future encouragement. I really think the time is not far distant when we shall be able to settle in our native land with profit as well as pleasure. Boston seems struggling in labor to bring forth an institution for the arts, but it will miscarry; I find it is all forced. They can talk, and talk, and say what a fine thing it would be, but nothing is done. I find by experience that what you have often observed to me with respect to settling in Boston is well founded. I think it will be the last in the arts, though, without doubt, it is capable of being the first, if the fit would only take them. Oh! how I miss you, my dear sir. I long to spend my evenings again with you and Leslie. I shall certainly visit Italy (should I live and no unforeseen event take place) in the course of a year or eighteen months. Could there not be some arrangement made to meet you and Leslie there? He lived, but the "unforeseen event" occurred to make him alter all his plans. Further on in this same letter he says:-- "My conscience accuses me, and hardly too, of many instances of pettishness and ill-humor towards you, which make me almost hate myself that I could offend a temper like yours. I need not ask you to forgive it; I know you cannot harbor anger a minute, and perhaps have forgotten the instances; but I cannot forget them. If you had failings of the same kind and I could recollect any instances where you had spoken pettishly or ill-natured to me, our accounts would then have been balanced, they would have called for mutual forgetfulness and forgiveness; but when, on reflection, I find nothing of the kind to charge you with, my conscience severely upbraids me with ingratitude to you, to whom (under Heaven) I owe all the little knowledge of my art which I possess. But I hope still I shall prove grateful to you; at any rate, I feel my errors and must mend them." Mr. Allston thus answers this frank appeal for forgiveness:-- MY DEAR SIR,--I will not apologize for having so long delayed answering your kind letter, being, as you well know, privileged by my friends to be a lazy correspondent. I was sorry to find that you should have suffered the recollection of any hasty expressions you might have uttered to give you uneasiness. Be assured that they never were remembered by me a moment after, nor did they ever in the slightest degree diminish my regard or weaken my confidence in the sincerity of your friendship or the goodness of your heart. Besides, the consciousness of warmth in my own temper would have made me inexcusable had I suffered myself to dwell on an inadvertent word from another. I therefore beg you will no longer suffer any such unpleasant reflections to disturb your mind, but that you will rest assured of my unaltered and sincere esteem. Your letter and one I had about the same time from my sister Mary brought the first intelligence of the sale of my picture, it being near three weeks later when I received the account from Philadelphia. When you recollect that I considered the "Dead Man" (from the untoward fate he had hitherto experienced) almost literally as a _caput mortuum_, you may easily believe that I was most agreeably surprised to hear of the sale. But, pleased as I was on account of the very seasonable pecuniary supply it would soon afford me, I must say that I was still more gratified at the encouragement it seemed to hold out for my return to America. His friend Leslie, in a letter from London of May 7, 1816, writes: "Mr. West said your picture would have been more likely than any of them to obtain the prize had you remained." In another letter from Leslie of September 6, 1816, occurs this amusing passage:-- "The _Catalogue Raisonné_ appeared according to promise, but is not near so good as the one last year. At the conclusion the author says that Mr. Payne Knight told the directors it was the custom of the Greek nobility to strip and exhibit themselves naked to the artists in various attitudes, that they might have an opportunity of studying fine form. Accordingly those public-spirited men, the directors, have determined to adopt the plan, and are all practising like mad to prepare themselves for the ensuing exhibition, when they are to be placed on pedestals. "It is supposed that Sir G. Beaumont, Mr. Long, Mr. Knight, etc., will occupy the principal lights. The Marquis of Stafford, unfortunately, could not recollect the attitude of any one antique figure, but was found practising having the head of the Dying Gladiator, the body of the Hercules, one leg of the Apollo, and the other of the Dancing Faun, turned the wrong way. Lord Mulgrave, having a small head, thought of representing the Torso, but he did not know what to do with his legs, and was afraid that, as Master of the Ordnance, he could not dispense with his _arms_." In the beginning of August, 1816, the young man started out on his quest for money. This was frankly the object of his journey, but it was characteristic of his buoyant and yet conscientious nature that, having once made up his mind to give up, for the present, all thoughts of pursuing the higher branches of his art, he took up with zest the painting of portraits. So far from degrading his art by pursuing a branch of it which he held to be inferior, he still, by conscientious work, by putting the best of himself into it, raised it to a very high plane; for many of his portraits are now held by competent critics to rank high in the annals of art, by some being placed on a level with those of Gilbert Stuart. On August 8, 1816, he writes to his parents from Concord, New Hampshire:-- "I have been in this place since Monday evening. I arrived safely.... Massabesek Pond is very beautiful, though seen on a dull day. I think that one or two elegant views might be made from it, and I think I must sketch it at some future period. "I have as yet met with no success in portraits, but hope, by perseverance, I shall be able to find some. My stay in this place depends on that circumstance. If none offer, I shall go for Hanover on Saturday morning. "The scenery is very fine on the Merrimack; many fine pictures could be made here alone. I made a little sketch near Contoocook Falls yesterday. I go this morning with Dr. McFarland to see some views. Colonel Kent's family are very polite to me, and I never felt in better spirits; the weather is now fine and I feel as though I was growing fat." CONCORD, August 16, 1816. I am still here and am passing my time very agreeably. I have painted five portraits at fifteen dollars each and have two more engaged and many more talked of. I think I shall get along well. I believe I could make an independent fortune in a few years if I devoted myself exclusively to portraits, so great is the desire for good portraits in the different country towns. He must have been a very rapid worker to have painted five portraits in eight days; but, perhaps, on account of the very modest price he received, these were more in the nature of quick sketches. The next letter is rather startling when we recall his recent assertions concerning "Mrs. Love" and the joys of a bachelor existence. CONCORD, August 20, 1816. MY DEAR PARENTS,--I write you a few lines just to say I am well and very industrious. Next day after to-morrow I shall have received one hundred dollars, which I think is pretty well for three weeks. I shall probably stay here a fortnight from yesterday. I have other attractions besides money in this place. Do you know the Walkers of this place? Charles Walker Esq., son of Judge Walker, has two daughters, the elder, very beautiful, amiable, and of an excellent disposition. This is her character in town. I have enquired particularly of Dr. McFarland respecting the family, and his answer is every way satisfactory, except that they are not professors of religion. He is a man of family and great wealth. This last, you know, I never made a principal object, but it is somewhat satisfactory to know that in my profession. I may flatter myself, but I think I might be a successful suitor. You will, perhaps, think me a terrible harum-scarum fellow to be continually falling in love in this way, but I have a dread of being an old bachelor, and I am now twenty-five years of age. There is still no need of hurry; the young lady is but sixteen. But all this is thinking aloud to you; I make you my confidants; I wish your advice; nothing shall be done precipitately. Of course all that I say is between you and me, for it all may come to nothing; I have _some experience_ that way. What I have done I have done prayerfully. I have prayed to the Giver of every good gift that He will direct me in this business; that, if it will not be to his glory and the good of his Kingdom, He will frustrate all; that, if He grants me prosperity, He will grant me a heart to use it aright; and, if adversity, that He will teach me submission to his will; and that, whatever may be my lot here, I may not fall short of eternal happiness hereafter. I hope you will remember me in your prayers, and especially in reference to a connection in life. I do not think that his parents took this matter very seriously at first. His was an intensely affectionate nature, and they had often heard these same raptures before. However, like wise parents, they did not scoff. His mother wrote on August 23, 1816, in answer: "With respect to the other confidential matter, I hope the Lord will direct you to a proper choice. We know nothing of the family, good or bad. We do not wish you to be an old bachelor, nor do we wish you to precipitate yourself and others into difficulties which you cannot get rid of." In the same letter his father says: "In regard to the subject on which you ask our advice, we refer it, after the experience you have had, and with the advice you have often had from us, to your own judgment. Be not hasty in entering into any engagement; enquire with caution and delicacy; do everything that is honorable and gentlemanly respecting yourself and those concerned. 'Pause, ponder, sift.--Judge before friendship--then confide till death.' (Young.) Above all, commit the subject to God in prayer and ask his guidance and blessing. I am glad to find you are doing this." How well he obeyed his father's injunctions may be gathered from the following letter, which speaks for itself:-- CONCORD, September 2, 1816. MY DEAR PARENTS,--I have just received yours of August 29. I leave town to-morrow morning, probably for Hanover, as there is no conveyance direct to Walpole. I have had no more portraits since I wrote you, so that I have received just one hundred dollars in Concord. The last I took for ten dollars, as the person I painted obtained four of my sitters for me.... With respect to the confidential affair, everything is successful beyond my most sanguine expectations. The more I know of her the more amiable she appears. She is very beautiful and yet no coquetry; she is modest, quite to diffidence, and yet frank and open-hearted. Wherever I have enquired concerning her I have invariably heard the same character of--"remarkably amiable, modest, and of a sweet disposition." When you learn that this is the case I think you will not accuse me of being hasty in bringing the affair to a crisis. I ventured to tell her my whole heart, and instead of obscure and ambiguous answers, which some would have given to tantalize and pain one, she frankly, but modestly and timidly, told me it was mutual. Suffice it to say we are _engaged_. If I know my parents I know they will be pleased with this amiable girl. Unless I was confident of it, I should never have been so hasty. I have not yet mentioned it to her parents; she requested me to defer it till next summer, or till I see her again, lest she should be thought hasty. She is but sixteen and is willing to wait two or three years if it is for our mutual interest. Never, never was a human being so blest as I am, and yet what an ungrateful wretch I have been. Pray for me that I may have a grateful heart, for I deserve nothing but adversity, and yet have the most unbounded prosperity. The father replies to this characteristic letter on September 4, 1816:-- "I have just received yours of the 2d inst. Its contents were deeply interesting to us, as you will readily suppose. It accounts to us why you have made so long a stay at Concord.... So far as we can judge from your representations (which are all we have to judge from), we cannot refuse you our approbation, and we hope that the course, on which you have entered with your characteristic rapidity and decision, will be pursued and issue in a manner which will conduce to the happiness of all concerned.... "We think _her_ parents should be made acquainted with the state of the business, as she is so young and the thing so important to them." The son answers this letter, from Walpole, New Hampshire, on September 7, 1816, thus naively: "You think the parents of the young lady should be made acquainted with the state of the business. I feel some degree of awkwardness as it respects that part of the affair; I don't know the manner in which it ought to be done. I wish you would have the goodness to write me immediately (at Walpole, to care of Thomas Bellows, Esq.) and inform me what I should say. Might I communicate the information by writing?" Here he gives a detailed account of the family, and, for the first time, mentions the young lady's name--Lucretia Pickering Walker--and continues:-- "You ask how the family have treated me. They are all aware of the attachment between us, for I have made my attention so open and so marked that they all must have perceived it. I know that Lucretia must have had some conversation with her mother on the subject, for she told me one day, when I asked her what her mother thought of my constant visits, that her mother said she 'didn't think I cared much about her,' in a pleasant way. All the family have been extremely polite and attentive to me; I received constant invitations to dinner and tea, indeed every encouragement was given me.... "I painted two hasty sketches of scenery in Concord. I meet with no success in Walpole. _Quacks_ have been before me." There is always a touch of quaint, dry humor in his mother's letters in spite of their great seriousness, as witness the following extracts from a letter of September 9, 1816:-- "We hope you will feel more than ever the absolute necessity laid upon you to procure for yourself and those you love a maintenance, as neither of you can subsist long upon air.... Remember it takes a great many hundred dollars to _make_ and to _keep_ the pot a-boiling. "I wish to see the young lady who has captivated you so much. I hope she loves religion, and that, if you and she form a connection for life, some _five or six years hence_, you may go hand in hand to that better world where they neither marry nor are given in marriage.... "You have not given us any satisfaction in respect to many things about the young lady which you ought to suppose we should be anxious to know. All you have told us is that she is handsome and amiable. These are good as far as they go, but there are a great many etcs., etcs., that we want to know. "Is she acquainted with domestic affairs? Does she respect and love religion? How many brothers and sisters has she? How old are they? Is she healthy? How old are her parents? What will they be likely to do for her some years hence, say when she is twenty years old? "In your next answer at least some of these questions. You see your mother has not lived twenty-seven years in New England without learning to ask questions." These questions he had already answered in a letter which must have crossed his mother's. On September 23, 1816, he writes from Windsor, Vermont:-- "I am still here but shall probably leave in a week or two. I long to get home, or, at least, as far on my way as _Concord_. I think I shall be tempted to stay a week or two there.... I do not like Windsor very much. It is a very dissipated place, and dissipation, too, of the lowest sort. There is very little gentleman's society." WINDSOR, VERMONT, September 28, 1816. I am still in this place.... I have written Lucretia on the subject of acquainting her parents, and I have no doubt she will assent.... I hear her spoken of in this part of the country as very celebrated, both for her beauty and, particularly, for her disposition; and this I have heard without there being the slightest suspicion of any attachment, or even acquaintance, between us. This augurs well most certainly. I know she is considered in Concord as the first girl in the place. (You know I always aimed highest.) The more I think of this attachment the more I think I shall not regret the _haste_ (if it may be so called) of this proposed connection.... I am doing pretty well in this place, better than I expected; I have one more portrait to do before I leave it.... I should have business, I presume, to last me some weeks if I could stay, but I long to get home _through Concord_.... Mama's scheme of painting a large landscape and selling it to General Bradley for two hundred dollars, must give place to another which has just come into my head: that of sending to you for my great canvas and painting the quarrel at Dartmouth College, as large as life, with all the portraits of the trustees, overseers, officers of college, and students; and, if I finish it next week, to ask five thousand dollars for it and then come home in a coach and six and put Ned to the blush with his nineteen subscribers a day. Only think, $5000 a week is $260,000 a year, and, if I live ten years, I shall be worth $2,600,000; a very pretty fortune for this time of day. Is it not a grand scheme? The remark concerning his brother Sidney Edwards's subscribers refers to a religious newspaper, the "Boston Recorder," founded and edited by him. It was one of the first of the many religious journals which, since that time, have multiplied all over the country. Continuing his modestly successful progress, he writes next from Hanover, on October 3, 1816:-- "I arrived in this place on Tuesday evening and am painting away with all my might. I am painting Judge Woodward and lady, and think I shall have many more engaged than I can do. I painted seven portraits at Windsor, one for my board and lodging at the inn, and one for ten dollars, very small, to be sent in a letter to a great distance; so that in all I received eighty-five dollars in money. I have five more engaged at Windsor for next summer. So you see I have not been idle. "I _must_ spend a fortnight at Concord, so that I shall not probably be at home till early in November. "I think, with proper management, that I have but little to fear as to this world. I think I can, with industry, average from two to three thousand dollars a year, which is a tolerable income, though _not equal to_ $2,600,000!" CONCORD, October 14, 1816. I arrived here on Friday evening in good health and spirits from Hanover. I painted four portraits altogether in Hanover, and have many engaged for next summer. I presume I shall paint some here, though I am uncertain. I found Lucretia in good health, very glad to see me. She improves on acquaintance; she is, indeed, a most amiable, affectionate girl; I know you will love her. She has consented that I should inform her parents of our attachment. I have, accordingly, just sent a letter to her father (twelve o'clock), and am now in a state of suspense anxiously waiting his answer. Before I close this, I hope to give you the result. _Five o'clock._ I have just called and had a conversation (by request) with Mr. Walker, and I have the satisfaction to say: "I have Lucretia's parents' entire approbation." Everything successful! Praise be to the giver of every good gift! What, indeed, shall I render to Him for all his unmerited and continually increasing mercies and blessings? In a letter to Miss Walker from a girl friend we find the following:-- "You appear to think, dear Lucretia, that I am possessed of quite an insensible _heart_; pardon me if I say the same of you, for I have heard that several have become candidates for your affections, but that you remained unmoved until Mr. M., of Charlestown, made his appearance, when, I understand, you did hope that his sentiments in your favor were reciprocal. "I rejoice to hear this, for, though I am unacquainted with that gentleman, yet, when I heard he was likely to become a successful suitor, I have made some enquiries concerning him, and find he is possessed of every excellent and amiable quality that I should wish the person to have who was to become the husband of so dear a friend as yourself." Morse must have returned home about the end of October, for we find no more letters until the 14th of December, when he writes from Portsmouth, New Hampshire:-- "I should have written you sooner but I have been employed in settling myself. I thought it best not to be precipitate in fixing on a place to board and lodge, but first to sound the public as to my success. Every one thinks I shall meet with encouragement, and, on the strength of this, I have taken lodgings and a room at Mrs. Hinge's in Jaffrey Street; a very excellent and central situation.... I shall commence on Monday morning with Governor Langdon's portrait. He is very kind and attentive to me, as, indeed, are all here, and will do everything to aid me. I wish not to raise high expectations, but I think I shall succeed tolerably well." About this time Finley Morse and his brother Edwards had jointly devised and patented a new "flexible piston-pump," from which they hoped great things. Edwards, always more or less of a wag, proposed to call it "Morse's Patent Metallic Double-headed Ocean-Drinker and Deluge-Spouter Valve Pump-Boxes." It was to be used in connection with fire-engines, and seems really to have been an excellent invention, for President Jeremiah Day, of Yale College, gave the young inventors his written endorsement, and Eli Whitney, the inventor of the cotton-gin, thus recommends it: "Having examined the model of a fire-engine invented by Mr. Morse, with pistons of a new construction, I am of opinion that an engine may be made on that principle (being more simple and much less expensive), which would have a preference to those in common use." In the letters of the year 1817 and of several following years, even in the letters of the young man to his _fiancée,_ many long references are made to this pump and to the varying success in introducing it into general use. I shall not, however, refer to it again, and only mention it to show the bent of Morse's mind towards invention. He spent some time in the early part of 1817 in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, meeting with success in his profession. Miss Walker was also there visiting friends, so we may presume that his stay was pleasant as well as profitable. In February of that year he accompanied his _fiancée_ to Charlestown, his parents, naturally, wishing to make the acquaintance of the young lady, and then returned to Portsmouth to finish his work there. The visit of Miss Walker to Charlestown gave great satisfaction to all concerned. On March 4, 1817, Morse writes to his parents from Portsmouth: "I am under the agreeable necessity (shall I say) of postponing my return ... in consequence of a _press of business_. I shall have three begun to-night; one sat yesterday (a large one), and two will sit to-day (small), and three more have it in serious contemplation. This unexpected occurrence will deprive me of the pleasure of seeing you this week at least." And on the next day, March 5, he writes: "The unexpected application of three sitters at a time completely stopped me. Since I wrote I have taken a first sitting of a fourth (large), and a fifth (large) sits on Friday morning; so you see I am over head and ears in business." As it is necessary to a clear understanding of Morse's character to realize the depth of his religious convictions, I shall quote the following from this same letter of March 5:-- "I wish much to know the progress of the Revival, how many are admitted next communion, and any religious news. "I have been in the house almost ever since I came from home sifting the scheme of Universal Salvation to the bottom. What occasioned this was an occurrence on the evening of Sunday before last. I heard the bell ring for lecture and concluded it was at Mr. Putnam's; I accordingly sallied out to go to it, when I found that it was in the Universalist meeting-house. "As I was out and never in a Universalist meeting, I thought, for mere curiosity, I would go in. I went into a very large meeting-house; the meeting was overflowing with people of both sexes, and the singing the finest I have heard in Portsmouth. I was struck with the contrast it made to Mr. Putnam's sacramental lecture; fifteen or sixteen persons thinly scattered over the house, and the choir consisting of four or five whose united voice could scarcely be heard in the farthest corner of the church, and, when heard, so out of harmony as to set one's teeth on edge. "The reflections which this melancholy contrast caused I could not help communicating to Mr. Putnam in the words of Mr. Spring's sermon, '_something must be done_.' He agreed it was a dreadful state of society here but almost gave up as hopeless. I told him he never should yield a post like this to the Devil without a struggle; and, at any rate, I told him that the few Christians that there were (and, indeed, they are but as one to one thousand) could pray, and I thought it was high time. I told him I would do all in my power to assist him in any scheme where I could be of use." The year 1817 was spent by the young man in executing the commissions which had been promised him the year before in New Hampshire. In all his journeyings back and forth the road invariably led through Concord, and the pure love of the young people for each other increased as the months rolled by. I shall not profane the sacredness of this love by introducing any of the more intimate passages of their letters of this and of later years. The young girl responded readily to the religious exhortations of her _fiancé_ and became a sincere and devout Christian. It will not be necessary to follow him in this journey, as the experiences were but a repetition of those of the year before. He painted many portraits in Concord, Hanover, and other places, and finally concluded to venture on a trip to Charleston, South Carolina, where his kinsman, Dr. Finley, and Mr. John A. Alston had urged him to come, assuring him good business. On January 27, 1818, he arrived in that beautiful Southern city and thus announced his arrival to his parents: "I find myself in a new climate, the weather warm as our May. I have been introduced to a number of friends. I think my prospects are favorable." At first, however, the promised success did not materialize, and it was not until after many weeks of waiting that the tide turned. But it did turn, for an excellent portrait of Dr. Finley, one of the best ever painted by Morse, aroused the enthusiasm of the Charlestonians, and orders began to pour in, so that in a few weeks he was engaged to paint one hundred and fifty portraits at sixty dollars each. Quite an advance over the meagre fifteen dollars he had received in New England. But for some of his more elaborate productions he received even more, as the following extract from a letter of Mr. John A. Alston, dated April 7, 1818, will prove:-- "I have just received your favor of the 30th ultimo, and thank you very cordially for your goodness in consenting to take my daughter's full-length likeness in the manner I described, say twenty-four inches in length. I will pay you most willingly the two hundred dollars you require for it, and will consider myself a gainer by the bargain. I shall expect you to decorate this picture with the most superb landscape you are capable of designing, and that you will produce a masterpiece of painting. I agree to your taking it with you to the northward to finish it. Be pleased to represent my daughter in the finest attitude you can conceive." Mr. Alston was a generous patron and paid the young artist liberally for the portraits of his children. In recognition of this Morse presented him with his most ambitious painting, "The Judgment of Jupiter." Mr. Alston prized this picture highly during his lifetime, but after his death it was sold and for many years was lost sight of. It was purchased long afterwards in England by an American gentleman, who, not knowing who the painter was, gave it to a niece of Morse's, Mrs. Parmalee, and it is still, I believe, in the possession of the family. While he was in Charleston his father wrote to him of the dangerous illness of his mother with what he called a "peripneumony," which, from the description, must have been the term used in those days for pneumonia. Her life was spared, however, and she lived for many years after this. In June of the year 1818, Morse returned to the North and spent the summer in completing such portraits as he had carried with him in an unfinished state, and in painting such others as he could procure commissions for. He planned to return to Charleston in the following year, but this time with a young wife to accompany him. His uncle, Dr. Finley, writing to him on June 16, says:-- "Your letter of 2d instant, conveying the pleasing intelligence of your safe and very short passage and happy meeting with your affectionate parents at your own home, came safe to hand in due time.... And so Lucretia was expected and you intended to surprise her by your unlooked-for presence. "Finley, I am afraid you will be too happy. You ought to meet a little rub or two or you will be too much in the clouds and forget that you are among mortals. Let me see if I cannot give you a friendly twist downwards. "Your pictures--aye--suppose I should speak of them and what is said of them during your absence. I will perform the office of him who was placed near the triumphal car of the conqueror to abuse him lest he should be too elated. "Well--'His pictures,' say people, 'are undoubtedly good likenesses, but he paints carelessly and in too much haste and his draperies are not well done. He must be more attentive or he will lose his reputation.' 'See,' say others, 'how he flatters.' 'Oh!' says another, 'he has not flattered me'; etc., etc. "By the bye, I saw old General C.C. Pinckney yesterday, and he told me, in his laughing, humorous way, that he had requested you to draw his brother Thomas twenty years younger than he really was, so as to be a companion to his own when he was twenty years younger than at this time, and to flatter him as he had directed Stuart to do so to him." Morse had now abandoned his idea of soon returning to Europe; he renounced, for the present, his ambition to devote himself to the painting of great historical pictures, and threw himself with enthusiasm into the painting of portraits. He had an added incentive, for he wished to marry at once, and his parents and those of his _fiancée_ agreed that it would be wise for the young people to make the venture. Everything seemed to presage success in life, at least in a modest way, to the young couple. On the 6th of October, 1818, the following notice appeared in the New Hampshire "Patriot," of Concord: "Married in this town, October 1st, by Rev. Dr. McFarland, Mr. Samuel F.B. Morse (the celebrated painter) to Miss Lucretia Walker, daughter of Charles Walker, Esq." On the 5th of October the young man writes to his parents:-- "I was married, as I wrote you I should be, on Tuesday morning last. We set out at nine o'clock and reached Amherst over bad roads at night. The next day we continued our journey through Wilton to New Ipswich, eighteen miles over one of the worst roads I ever travelled, all uphill and down and very rocky, and no tavern on the road. We enquired at New Ipswich our best route to Northampton, where we intended to go to meet Mr. and Mrs. Cornelius, but we found on enquiry that there were nothing but cross-roads and these very bad, and no taverns where we could be comfortably accommodated. Our horse also was tired, so we thought our best way was to return. Accordingly the next day we started for Concord, and arrived on Friday evening safe home again. "Lucretia wishes to spend this week with her friends, so that I shall return (Providence permitting) on this day week, and reach home by Tuesday noon, probably to dinner. We are both well and send a great deal of love to you all. Mr. and Mrs. Walker wish me to present their best respects to you. We had delightful weather for travelling, and got home just in season to escape Saturday's rain." CHAPTER XI NOVEMBER 19, 1818--MARCH 31, 1821. Morse and his wife go to Charleston, South Carolina.--Hospitably entertained and many portraits painted.--Congratulates Allston on his election to the Royal Academy.--Receives commission to paint President Monroe.--Trouble in the parish at Charlestown.--Morse urges his parents to leave and come to Charleston.--Letters of John A. Alston.--Return to the North.--Birth of his first child.--Dr. Morse and his family decide to move to New Haven.--Morse goes to Washington.--Paints the President under difficulties.--Hospitalities.--Death of his grandfather.--Dr. Morse appointed Indian Commissioner.--Marriage of Morse's future mother-in-law. --Charleston again.--Continued success.--Letters to Mrs. Ball.-- Liberality of Mr. Alston.--Spends the summer in New Haven.--Returns to Charleston, but meets with poor success.--Assists in founding Academy of Arts, which has but a short life.--Goes North again. The young couple decided to spend the winter in Charleston, South Carolina, where Morse had won a reputation the previous winter as an excellent portrait-painter, and where much good business awaited him. The following letter was written to his parents:-- SCHOONER TONTINE, AT ANCHOR OFF CHARLESTON LIGHTHOUSE, THURSDAY, November 19, 1818, 5 o'clock P.M. We have arrived thus far on our voyage safely through the kind protection of Providence. We have had a very rough passage attended with many dangers and more fears, but have graciously been delivered from them all. It is seven days since we left New York. If you recollect that was the time of my last passage in this same vessel. She is an excellent vessel and has the best captain and accommodations in the trade. Lucretia was a little seasick in the roughest times, but, on the whole, bore the voyage extremely well. She seems a little downcast this afternoon in consequence of feeling as if she was going among strangers, but I tell her she will overcome it in ten minutes' interview with Uncle and Aunt Finley and family. She is otherwise very well and sends a great deal of love to you all. Please let Mr. and Mrs. Walker know of our arrival as soon as may be. I will leave the remainder of this until I get up to town. We hope to go up when the tide changes in about an hour. FRIDAY MORNING, 20th, AT UNCLE FINLEY'S. We are safely housed under the hospitable roof of Uncle Finley, where they received us, as you might expect, with open arms. He has provided lodgings for us at ten dollars per week. I have not yet seen them; shall go directly. I received a letter from Richard at Savannah; he writes in fine spirits and feels quite delighted with the hospitable people of the South. This refers to his brother Richard Carey Morse, who was still pursuing his theological studies. The visit of the young couple to Charleston was a most enjoyable one, and the artist found many patrons eager to be immortalized by his brush. On December 22, 1818, he writes to his parents:-- "Lucretia is well and contented. She makes many friends and we receive as much attention from the hospitable Carolinians as we can possibly attend to. She is esteemed quite handsome here; she has grown quite fleshy and healthy, and we are as happy in each other as you can possibly wish us. "There are several painters arrived from New York, but I fear no competition; I have as much as I can do." As a chronicle of fair weather, favorable winds, and blue skies is apt to grow monotonous, I shall pass rapidly over the next few years, only selecting from the voluminous correspondence of that period a few extracts which have more than a passing interest. On February 4, 1819, he writes to his friend and master, Washington Allston, who had now returned to Boston:-- "Excuse my neglect in not having written you before this according to my promise before I left Boston. I can only plead as apology (what I know will gratify you) a multiplicity of business. I am painting from morning till night and have continual applications. I have added to my list, this season only, to the amount of three thousand dollars; that is since I left you. Among them are three full lengths to be finished at the North, I hope in Boston, where I shall once more enjoy your criticisms. "I am exerting my utmost to improve; every picture I try to make my best, and in the evening I draw two hours from the antique as I did in London; for I ought to inform you that I fortunately found a fine 'Venus de Medicis' without a blemish, imported from Paris sometime since by a gentleman of this city who wished to dispose of it; also a young Apollo which was so broken that he gave it to me, saying it was useless. I have, however, after a great deal of trouble, put it together entirely, and these two figures, with some fragments,--hands, feet, etc.,--make a good academy. Mr. Fraser, Mr. Cogdell, Mr. Fisher, of Boston, and myself meet here of an evening to improve ourselves. I feel as much enthusiasm as ever in my art and love it more than ever. A few years, at the rate I am now going on, will place me independent of public patronage. "Thus much for myself, for you told me in one of your letters from London that I must be more of an egotist or you should be less of one in your letters to me, which I should greatly regret. "And now, permit me, my dear sir, to congratulate you on your election to the Royal Academy. I know you will believe me when I say I jumped for joy when I heard it. Though it cannot add to your merit, yet it will extend the knowledge of it, especially in our own country, where we are still influenced by foreign opinion, and more justly, perhaps, in regard to taste in the fine arts than in any other thing." On March 1, 1819, the Common Council of Charleston passed the following resolution:-- "Resolved unanimously that His Honor the Intendant be requested to solicit James Monroe, President of the United States, to permit a full-length likeness to be taken for the City of Charleston, and that Mr. Morse be requested to take all necessary measures for executing the said likeness on the visit of the President to this city. "Resolved unanimously that the sum of seven hundred and fifty dollars be appropriated for this purpose. "Extract from the minutes. "WILLIAM ROACH, JR., "Clerk of Council." This portrait of President Monroe was completed later on and still hangs in the City Hall of Charleston. I shall have occasion to refer to it again. Morse, in a letter to his parents of March 26, 1819, says:-- "Two of your letters have been lately received detailing the state of the parish and church. I cannot say I was surprised, for it is what might be expected from Charlestown people.... As to returning home in the way I mentioned mama need not be at all uneasy on that score. It is necessary I should visit Washington, as the President will stay so short a time here that I cannot complete the head unless I see him in Washington.... Now as to the parish and church business, I hope all things will turn out right yet, and I can't help wishing that nothing may occur to keep you any longer in that nest of vipers and conspirators. I think with Edwards decidedly that, on mama's account alone, you should leave a place which is full of the most unpleasant associations to all the family, and retire to some place of quiet to enjoy your old age. "Why not come to Charleston? Here is a fine place for usefulness, a pleasant climate especially for persons advanced in life, and your children here; for I think seriously of settling in Charleston. Lucretia is willing, and I think it will be much for my advantage to remain through the year. Richard can find a place here if he will, and Edwards can come on and be _Bishop_ or _President_ or _Professor_ in some of the colleges (for I can't think of him in a less character) after he has graduated. "I wish seriously you would think of this. Your friends here would greatly rejoice and an opening could be found, I have no doubt. Christians want their hands strengthened, and a veteran soldier, like papa, might be of great service here in the infancy of the _Unitarian Hydra_, who finds a population too well adapted to receive and cherish its easy and fascinating tenets." All this refers to a movement organized by the enemies of Dr. Morse to oust him from his parish in Charlestown. He was a militant fighter for orthodoxy and an uncompromising foe to Unitarianism, which was gradually obtaining the ascendancy in and near Boston. The movement was finally successful, as we shall see later, but they did not go as far from their old haunts as Charleston. I shall not attempt to argue the rights and wrongs of the case, which seem to have been rather complicated, for Dr. Morse, more than a year after this, in writing to a friend says: "The events of the last fifteen months are still involved in impenetrable mystery, which I doubt not will be unravelled in due time." The winter and spring of 1819 were spent by the young couple both pleasantly and profitably in Charleston. The best society of that charming city opened its arms to them and orders flowed in in a steady stream. Mr. John A. Alston was a most generous patron, ordering many portraits of his children and friends, and sometimes insisting on paying the young man even more than the price agreed upon. In a letter to Morse he says: "Which of my friends was it who lately observed to you that I had a picture mania? You made, I understand, a most excellent reply, 'You wished I would come to town, then, and bite a dozen.' Indeed, my very good sir, was it in my power to excite in them a just admiration of your talents, I would readily come to town and bite the whole community." And in another letter of April 10, 1819, Mr. Alston says: "Your portrait of my daughter was left in Georgetown [South Carolina], at the house of a friend; nearly all of the citizens have seen it, and I really think it will occasion you some applications.... Every one thought himself at liberty to make remarks. Some declared it to be a good likeness, while others insisted it was not so, and several who made such remarks, I _knew_ had _never_ seen my daughter. At last a rich Jew gentleman observed, 'it was the _richest_ piece of painting he had ever seen.' This being so much in character that I assure you, sir, I could contain myself no longer, which, spreading among the audience, occasioned not an unpleasant moment." Morse and his young wife returned to the North in the early summer of 1819, and spent the summer and fall with his parents in Charlestown. The young man occupied himself with the completion of the portraits which he had brought with him from the South, and his wife was busied with preparations for the event which is thus recorded in a letter of Dr. Morse's to his son Sidney Edwards at Andover: "Since I have been writing the above, Lucretia has presented us with a fine granddaughter and is doing well. The event has filled us with joy and gratitude." The child was christened Susan Walker Morse. In the mean time the distressing news had come from Charleston of the sudden death of Dr. Finley, to whose kindly affection and influence Morse owed much of the pleasure and success of his several visits to Charleston. Affairs had come to a crisis in the parish at Charlestown, and Dr. Morse decided to resign and planned to move to New Haven, Connecticut, with his family in the following spring. The necessity for pursuing his profession in the most profitable field compelled Morse to return to Charleston by way of Washington in November, and this time he had to go alone, much against his inclinations. He writes to his mother from New York on November 28, 1819: "I miss Lucretia and little Susan more than you can think, and I shall long to have us all together at New Haven in the spring." His object in going to Washington was to paint the portrait of the President, and of this he says in a letter: "I began on Monday to paint the President and have almost completed the head. I am thus far pleased with it, but I find it very perplexing, for he cannot sit more than ten or twenty minutes at a time, so that the moment I feel engaged he is called away again. I set my palette to-day at ten o'clock and waited until four o'clock this afternoon before he came in. He then sat ten minutes and we were called to dinner. Is not this trying to one's patience?" "_December 17, 1819._ I have been here nearly a fortnight. I commenced the President's portrait on Monday and shall finish it to-morrow. I have succeeded to my satisfaction, and, what is better, to the satisfaction of himself and family; so much so that one of his daughters wishes me to copy the head for her. They all say that mine is the best that has been taken of him. The daughter told me (she said as a secret) that her father was delighted with it, and said it was the only one that in his opinion looked like him; and this, too, with Stuart's in the room. "The President has been very kind and hospitable to me; I have dined with him three times and taken tea as often; he and his family have been very sociable and unreserved. I have painted him at his house, next room to his cabinet, so that when he had a moment to spare he would come in to me. "Wednesday evening Mrs. Monroe held a drawing-room. I attended and made my bow. She was splendidly and tastily dressed. The drawing-room and suite of rooms at the President's are furnished and decorated in the most splendid manner; some think too much so, but I do not. Something of splendor is certainly proper about the Chief Magistrate for the credit of the nation. Plainness can be carried to an extreme, and in national buildings and establishments it will, with good reason, be styled meanness." "_December 23, 1819._ It is obviously for my interest to hasten to Charleston, as I shall there be immediately at work, and this is the more necessary as there is a fresh gang of adventurers in the brush line gone to Charleston before me." A short while after this he received the news of the death of his grandfather, Jedediah Morse, at Woodstock, Connecticut, on December 29, aged ninety-four years. Mr. Prime says of him: "He was a strong man in body and mind, an able and upright magistrate, for eighteen years one of the selectmen of the town, twenty-seven years town clerk and treasurer, fifteen years a member of the Colonial and State Legislature, and a prominent, honored, and useful member and officer of the church." In January of the year 1820, Dr. Morse, realizing that it would be for the best interests of all concerned to relinquish his pastorate at Charlestown, turned his active brain in another direction, and resolved to carry out a plan which he had long contemplated. This was to secure from the Government at Washington an appointment as commissioner to the Indians on the borders of the United States of those early days, in order to enquire into their condition with a view to their moral and physical betterment. To this end he journeyed to Washington and laid his project before the President and the Secretary of War, John C. Calhoun. He was most courteously entertained by these gentlemen and received the appointment. In the following spring with his son Richard he travelled through the northwestern frontiers of the United States, and gained much valuable information which he laid before the Government. As he was a man of delicate constitution, we cannot but admire his indomitable spirit in ever devising new projects of usefulness to his fellow men. It was impossible for him to remain idle. But it is not within the scope of this work to follow him on his journeys, although his letters of that period make interesting reading. While he was in Washington his wife, writing to him on January 27, 1820, says: "Mrs. Salisbury and Abby drank tea with us day before yesterday. They told us that Catherine Breese was married to a lieutenant in the army. This must have been a very sudden thing, and I should suppose very grievous to Arthur." Little did the good lady think as she penned these words that, many years afterwards, her beloved eldest son would take as his second wife a daughter of this union. Why this marriage should have been "grievous" to the father, Arthur Breese, I do not know, unless all army officers were classed among the ungodly by the very pious of those days. As a matter of fact, Lieutenant, afterwards Captain, Griswold was a most gallant gentleman. In the mean time Finley Morse had reached Charleston in safety after a tedious journey of many days by stage from Washington, and was busily employed in painting. On February 4, 1820, he writes to his mother:-- "I received your good letter of the 19th and 22d ult., and thank you for it. I wish I had time to give you a narrative of my journey as you wish, but you know '_time is money_,' and we must '_make hay while the sun shines_,' and '_a penny saved is a penny got_," and '_least said soonest mended_,' and a good many other wise sayings which would be quite pat, but I can't think of them. "The fact is I have scarcely time to say or write a word. I am busily employed in getting the cash, or else Ned's almanac for March will foretell falsely. "I am doing well, although the city fairly swarms with painters. I am the only one that has as much as he can do; all the rest are complaining. I wish I could divide with some of them, very clever men who have families to support, and can get nothing to do.... I feel rejoiced that things have come to such a crisis in Charlestown that our family will be released from that region of trouble so soon. "Keep up your spirits, mother, the Lord will show you good days according to those in which you have seen evil.... "I am glad Lucretia and the dear little Susan intend meeting me at New Haven. I think this by far the best plan; it will save me a great deal of time, which, as I said before, is money. "I shall have to spend some time in New Haven getting settled, and I wish to commence painting as soon as possible, for I have more than a summer's work before me in the President's portrait and Mrs. Ball's. "As soon as the cash comes in, mother, it shall all be remitted except what I immediately want. You may depend upon it that nothing shall be left undone on my part to help you and the rest of us from that hole of vipers. "I think it very probable I shall return by the middle of May; it will depend much on circumstances, however. I wish very much to be with my dear wife and daughter. I must contrive to bring them with me next season to Charleston, though it may be more expensive, yet I do not think that should be a consideration. I think that a man should be separated from his family but very seldom, and then under cases of absolute necessity, as I consider the case to be at present with me: that is, I think they should not be separated for any length of time. If I know my own disposition I am of a domestic habit, formed to this habit, probably, by the circumstances that have been so peculiar to our family in Charlestown. I by no means regret having such a habit if it can be properly regulated; I think it may be carried to excess, and shut us from the opportunities of doing good by mixing with our fellow men." This pronouncement was very characteristic of the man. He was always, all through his long life, happiest when at home surrounded by all his family, and yet he never shirked the duty of absenting himself from home, even for a prolonged period, when by so doing he could accomplish some great or good work. That a portrait-painter's lot is not always a happy one may be illustrated by the following extracts from letters of Morse to the Mrs. Ball whom he mentions in the foregoing letter to his mother, and who seems to have been a most capricious person, insisting on continual alterations, and one day pleased and the next almost insulting in her censure:-- MADAM,--Supposing that I was dealing not only with a woman of honor, but, from her professions, with a Christian, I ventured in my note of the 18th inst., to make an appeal to your conscience in support of the justness of my demand of the four hundred dollars still due from you for your portrait. By your last note I find you are disposed to take an advantage of that circumstance of which I did not suppose you capable. My sense of the justness of my demand was so strong, as will appear from the whole tenor of that note, that I venture this appeal, not imagining that any person of honor, of the least spark of generous feeling, and more especially of Christian principle, could understand anything more than the enforcing my claim by an appeal to that principle which I knew should be the strongest in a real Christian. Whilst, however, you have chosen to put a different construction on this part of the note, and supposed that I left you to say whether you would pay me anything or nothing, you have (doubtless unconsciously) shown that your conscience has decided in favor of the whole amount which is my due, and which I can never voluntarily relinquish. You affirm in the first part of your note that, after due consideration, you think the real value of the picture is four hundred dollars (without the frame), yet, had your crop been good, your conscience would have adjudged me the remaining four hundred dollars without hesitation; and again (if your crop should be good) you could pay me the four hundred dollars next season. Must I understand from this, madam, that the goodness or badness of your crop is the scale on which your conscience measures your obligation to pay a just debt, and that it contracts or expands as your crop increases or diminishes? Pardon me, madam, if I say that this appears to be the case from your letter. My wish throughout this whole business has been to accommodate the time and terms of payment as much to your convenience as I could consistently with my duty to my family and myself. As a proof of this you need only advert to my note of yesterday, in which I inform you that I am paying interest on money borrowed for the use of my family which your debt, if it had been promptly paid, would have prevented. And in another letter he says:-- "I completed your picture in the summer with two others which have given, as far as I can learn, entire satisfaction. Yours was painted with the same attention and with the same ability as the others, and admired as a picture, after it was finished, as much by some as the others, and more by many. "Among these latter were the celebrated Colonel Trumbull and Vanderlyn, painters of New York.... You cannot but recollect, madam, that when you yourself with your children visited it, not withstanding you expressed yourself before them in terms so strong against it and so wounding to my feelings, yet all your children dissented from you, the youngest saying it was 'mama,' and the eldest, 'I am sure, mother, it is very like you.'... "Your picture, from the day I commenced it, has been the source of one of my greatest trials, and, if it has taught me in any degree patience and forbearance, I shall have abundant reason to be thankful for the affliction." In the end he consented to take less than had been agreed upon in order to close the incident. As a happy contrast to this episode we have the following quotation from a letter to his wife written on February 17, 1820:-- "Did I tell you in my last that Colonel Alston insisted on giving me _two hundred dollars_ more than I asked for the picture of little Sally, and a commission to paint her again full length next season, smaller than the last and larger than the first portrait, for which I shall receive four hundred dollars? He intimates also that I am to paint a picture annually for him. Is not he a strange man? (as people say here). I wish some more of the great fortunes in this part of the country would be as strange and encourage other artists who are men of genius and starving for want of employment." Morse returned to the North in the spring of 1820 and joined his mother and his wife and daughter in New Haven, where they had preceded him and where they were comfortably and agreeably settled, as will appear from the following sentence in a letter to his good friend and mentor, Henry Bromfield, of London, dated August, 1820: "You will perceive by the heading of this letter that I am in New Haven. My father and his family have left Charlestown, Massachusetts, and are settled in this place. My own family also, consisting of wife and daughter, are pleasantly settled in this delightful spot. I have built me a fine painting-room attached to my house in which I paint my large pictures in the summer, and in the winter I migrate to Charleston, South Carolina, where I have commissions sufficient to employ me for some years to come." He returned to Charleston in the fall of 1820 and was again compelled to go alone. He writes to his wife on December 27: "I feel the separation this time more than ever, and I felt the other day, when I saw the steamship start for New York, that I had almost a mind to return in her." From this sentence we learn that the slow schooner of the preceding years had been supplanted by the more rapid steamship, but that is, unfortunately, all he has to say of this great step forward in human progress. Further on in this same letter he says: "I am occupied fully so that I have no reason to complain. I have not a _press_ like the first season or like the last, but still I can say I am all the time employed.... My President pleases very much; I have heard no dissatisfaction expressed. It is placed in the great Hall in a fine light and place.... Mrs. Ball wants some alterations, that is to say every five minutes she would like it to be different. She is the most unreasonable of all mortals; derangement is her only apology. I can't tell you all in a letter, must wait till I see you. I shall get the rest of the cash from her shortly." Just at this time the wave of prosperity on which the young man had so long floated, began to subside, for he writes to his wife on January 28, 1821:-- "I wish I could write encouragingly as to my professional pursuits, but I cannot. Notwithstanding the diminished price and the increase of exertion to please, and although I am conscious of painting much better portraits than formerly (which, indeed, stands to reason if I make continual exertion to improve), yet with all I receive no new commissions, cold and procrastinating answers from those to whom I write and who had put their names on my list. I give less satisfaction to those whom I have painted; I receive less attention also from some of those who formerly paid me much attention, and none at all from most." But with his usual hopefulness he says later on in this letter:-- "Why should I expect my sky to be perpetually unclouded, my sun to be never obscured? I have thus far enjoyed more of the sunshine of prosperity than most of my fellow men. 'Shall I receive good at the hands of the Lord and shall I not also receive evil?'" In this letter, a very long one, he suggests the establishment of an academy or school of painting in New Haven, so that he may be enabled to live at home with his family, and find time to paint some of the great historical works which he still longed to do. He also tells of the formation of such an academy in Charleston:-- "Since writing this there has been formed here an Academy of Arts to be erected immediately. J.R. Poinsett, Esq., is President, and six others with myself are chosen Directors. What this is going to lead to I don't know. I heard Mr. Cogdell say that it was intended to have lectures read, among other things. I feel not very sanguine as to its success, still I shall do all in my power to help it on as long as I am here." His forebodings seem to have been justified, for Mr. John S. Cogdell, a sculptor, thus writes of it in later years to Mr. Dunlap:-- "The Legislature granted a charter, but, my good sir, as they possessed no powers under the constitution to confer taste or talent, and possessed none of those feelings which prompt to patronage, they gave none to the infant academy.... The institution was allowed from apathy and opposition to die; but Mr. Poinsett and myself with a few others have purchased, with a hope of reviving, the establishment." Referring to this academy the wife in New Haven, in a letter of February 25, 1821, says: "Mr. Silliman says he is not much pleased to hear that they have an academy for painting in Charleston. He is afraid they will decoy you there." On March 11, 1821, Morse answers thus: "Tell Mr. Silliman I have stronger _magnets_ at New Haven than any academy can have, and, while that is the case, I cannot be decoyed permanently from home." I wonder if he used the word "magnets" advisedly, for it was with Professor Silliman that he at that time pursued the studies in physics, including electricity, which had so interested him while in college, and it was largely due to the familiarity with the subject which he then acquired that he was, in later years, enabled successfully to perfect his invention. On the 12th of March, 1821, another daughter was born to the young couple, and was named Elizabeth Ann after her paternal grandmother. The child lived but a few days, however, much to the grief of her parents and grandparents. Charleston had now given all she had to give to the young painter, and he packed his belongings to return home with feelings both of joy and of regret. He was overjoyed at the prospect of so soon seeing his dearly loved wife and daughter, and his parents and brothers; at the same time he had met with great hospitality in Charleston; had made many firm friends; had impressed himself strongly on the life of the city, as he always did wherever he went, and had met with most gratifying success in his profession. A partial list of the portraits painted while he was there gives the names of fifty-five persons, and, as the prices received are appended, we learn that he received over four thousand dollars from his patrons for these portraits alone. On March 31, 1821, he joyfully announces his homecoming: "I just drop you a hasty line to say that, in all probability, your husband will be with you as soon, if not sooner than this letter. I am entirely clear of all sitters, having outstayed my last application; have been engaged in finishing off and packing up for two days past and contemplate embarking by the middle or end of the coming week in the steamship for New York. You must not be surprised, therefore, to see me soon after this reaches you; still don't be disappointed if I am a little longer, as the winds most prevalent at this season are head winds in going to the North. I am busy in collecting my dues and paying my debts." CHAPTER XII MAY 23, 1821--DECEMBER 17, 1824 Accompanies Mr. Silliman to the Berkshires.--Takes his wife and daughter to Concord, New Hampshire.--Writes to his wife from Boston about a bonnet.--Goes to Washington, D.C.--Paints large picture of House of Representatives.--Artistic but not financial success.--Donates five hundred dollars to Yale.--Letter from Mr. DeForest.--New York "Observer."--Discouragements.--First son born.--Invents marble-carving machine.--Goes to Albany.--Stephen Van Rensselaer.--Slight encouragement in Albany.--Longing for a home.--Goes to New York.--Portrait of Chancellor Kent.--Appointed attaché to Legation to Mexico.--High hopes.-- Takes affecting leave of his family.--Rough journey to Washington.-- Expedition to Mexico indefinitely postponed.--Returns North.--Settles in New York.--Fairly prosperous. Much as Morse longed for a permanent home, where he could find continuous employment while surrounded by those he loved, it was not until many years afterwards and under totally different circumstances that his dream was realized. For the present the necessity of earning money for the support of his young family and for the assistance of his ageing father and mother drove him continually forth to new fields, and on May 23, 1821, which must have been only a few weeks after his return from the South, he writes to his wife from Pittsfield, Massachusetts:-- "We are thus far on our tour safe and sound. Mr. Silliman's health is very perceptibly better already. Last night we lodged at Litchfield; Mr. Silliman had an excellent night and is in fine spirits. "At Litchfield I called on Judge Reeves and sat a little while.... I called at Mr. Beecher's with Mr. Silliman and Judge Gould; no one at home. Called with Mr. Silliman at Dr. Shelden's, and stayed a few moments; sat a few moments also at Judge Gould's. "I was much pleased with the exterior appearance of Litchfield; saw at a distance Edwards's pickerel pond. "We left at five this morning, breakfasted at Norfolk, dined at Stockbridge. We there left the stage and have hired a wagon to go on to Middlebury, Vermont, at our leisure. We lodge here to-night and shall probably reach Bennington, Vermont, to-morrow night. "I have made one slight pencil sketch of the Hoosac Mountain. At Stockbridge we visited the marble quarries, and to-morrow at Lanesborough shall visit the quarries of fine white marble there. "I am much delighted with my excursion thus far. To travel with such a companion as Mr. Silliman I consider as highly advantageous as well as gratifying." This is all the record I have of this particular trip. The Mr. Beecher referred to was the father of Henry Ward Beecher. Later in the summer he accompanied his wife and little daughter to Concord, New Hampshire, and left them there with her father and mother. Writing to her from Boston on his way back to New Haven, he says in characteristically masculine fashion:-- "I have talked with Aunt Bartlett about getting you a bonnet. She says that it is no time to get a fashionable winter bonnet in Boston now, and that it would be much better if you could get it in New York, as the Bostonians get their fashions from New York and, of course, much later than we should in New Haven. She thinks that white is better than blue, etc., etc., etc., which she can explain to you much better than I can. She is willing, however, to get you any you wish if you still request it. She thinks, if you cannot wait for the new fashion, that your black bonnet put into proper shape with black plumes would be as _tasty_ and fashionable as any you could procure. I think so, too. You had better write Aunt particularly about it." While Morse had conscientiously tried to put the best of himself into the painting of portraits, and had succeeded better than he himself knew, he still longed for wider fields, and in November, 1821, he went to Washington, D.C., to begin a work which he for some time had had in contemplation, and which he now felt justified in undertaking. This was to be a large painting of the House of Representatives with many portraits of the members. The idea was well received at Washington and he obtained the use of one of the rooms at the Capitol for a studio, making it easy for the members to sit for him. It could not have been all plain sailing, however, for his wife says to him in a letter of December 28, 1821: "Knowing that perseverance is a trait in your character, we do not any of us feel surprised to hear you have overcome so many obstacles. You have undertaken a great work.... Every one thinks it must be a very popular subject and that you will make a splendid picture of it." Writing to his wife he says:-- "I am up at daylight, have my breakfast and prayers over and commence the labors of the day long before the workmen are called to work on the Capitol by the bell. This I continue unremittingly till one o'clock, when I dine in about fifteen minutes and then pursue my labors until tea, which scarcely interrupts me, as I often have my cup of tea in one hand and my pencil in the other. Between ten and eleven o'clock I retire to rest. This has been my course every day (Sundays, of course, excepted) since I have been here, making about fourteen hours' study out of the twenty-four. "This you will say is too hard, and that I shall injure my health. I can say that I never enjoyed better health, and my body, by the simple fare I live on, is disciplined to this course. As it will not be necessary to continue long so assiduously I shall not fail to pursue it till the work is done. "I receive every possible facility from all about the Capitol. The doorkeeper, a venerable man, has offered to light the great chandelier expressly for me to take my sketches in the evening for two hours together, for I shall have it a candlelight effect, when the room, already very splendid, will appear ten times more so." On the 2d of January, 1822, he writes: "I have commenced to-day taking the likenesses of the members. I find them not only willing to sit, but apparently esteeming it an honor. I shall take seventy of them and perhaps more; all if possible. I find the picture is becoming the subject of conversation, and every day gives me greater encouragement. I shall paint it on part of the great canvas when I return home. It will be eleven feet by seven and a half feet.... It will take me until October next to complete it." The room which he painted was then the Hall of Representatives, but is now Statuary Hall. As a work of art the painting is excellent and is highly esteemed by artists of the present day. It contains eighty portraits. His high expectations of gaining much profit from its exhibition and of selling it for a large sum were, however, doomed to disappointment. It did not attract the public attention which he had anticipated and it proved a financial loss to him. It was finally sold to an Englishman, who took it across the ocean, and it was lost sight of until, after twenty-five years, it was found by an artist friend, Mr. F.W. Edmonds, in New York, where it had been sent from London. It was in a more or less damaged condition, but was restored by Morse. It eventually became the property of the late Daniel Huntington, who loaned it to the Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, where it now hangs.[1] [Footnote 1: This painting has recently been purchased by the Trustees of the Corcoran Gallery.] I find no more letters of special interest of the year 1822, but Mr. Prime has this to record: "In the winter of 1822, notwithstanding the great expenses to which Mr. Morse had been subjected in producing this picture, and before he had realized anything from its exhibition, he made a donation of five hundred dollars to the library fund of Yale College; probably the largest donation in proportion to the means of the giver which that institution ever received." The corporation, by vote, presented the thanks of the board in the following letter:-- YALE COLLEGE, December 4th, 1822. DEAR SIR,--I am directed by the corporation of this college to present to you the thanks of the board for your subscription of five hundred dollars for the enlargement of the library. Should this example of liberality be generally imitated by the friends of the institution, we should soon have a library creditable to the college and invaluable to men of literary and philosophic research. With respectful and grateful acknowledgment, Your obedient servant, JEREMAIAH DAY. While he was at home in New Haven in the early part of 1823 he sought orders for portraits, and that he was successful in at least one instance is evidenced by the following letter:-- Mr. D.C. DeForest's compliments to Mr. Morse. Mr. DeForest desires to have his portrait taken such as it would have been six or eight years ago, making the necessary calculation for it, and at the same time making it a good likeness in all other respects. This reason is not to make himself younger, but to appear to children and grandchildren more suitably matched as to age with their mother and grandmother. If Mr. Morse is at leisure and disposed to undertake this work, he will please prepare his canvas and let me know when he is ready for my attendance. NEW HAVEN, 30th March, 1823. Whether Morse succeeded to the satisfaction of Mr. DeForest does not appear from the correspondence, but both this portrait and that of Mrs. DeForest now hang in the galleries of the Yale School of the Fine Arts, and are here reproduced so that the reader may judge for himself. [Illustration: MR. D.C. DE FOREST MRS. D.C. DE FOREST From "Thistle Prints." Copyright Detroit Publishing Co. From a painting by Morse now in the Gallery of the Yale School of the Fine Arts] On the 17th of May, 1828, the first number of the New York "Observer" was published. While being a religious newspaper the prospectus says it "contains also miscellaneous articles and summaries of news and information on every subject in which the community is interested." This paper was founded and edited by the two brothers Sidney E. and Richard C. Morse, who had abandoned respectively the law and the ministry. It was very successful, and became at one time a power in the community and is still in existence. The editorial offices were first established at 50 Wall Street, but later the brothers bought a lot and erected a building at the corner of Nassau and Beekman Streets, and that edifice had an important connection with the invention of the telegraph. On the same site now stands the Morse Building, a pioneer sky-scraper now sadly dwarfed by its gigantic neighbors. The year 1823 was one of mingled discouragement and hope. Compelled to absent himself from home for long periods in search of work, always hoping that in some place he would find enough to do to warrant his bringing his family and making for them a permanent home, his letters reflect his varying moods, but always with the underlying conviction that Providence will yet order all things for the best. The letters of the young wife are pathetic in their expressions of loneliness during the absence of her husband, and yet of forced cheerfulness and submission to the will of God. On the 17th of March, 1823, another child was born, a son, who was named for his maternal grandfather, Charles Walker. The child was at first very delicate, and this added to the anxieties of the fond mother and father, but he soon outgrew his childish ailments. Morse's active mind was ever bent on invention, and in this year he devised and sought to patent a machine for carving marble statues, "perfect copies of any model." He had great hopes of pecuniary profit from this invention and it is mentioned many times in the letters of this and the following year, but he found, on enquiry, that it was not patentable, as it would have been an infringement on the machine of Thomas Blanchard which was patented in 1820. So once more were his hopes of independence blasted, as they had been in the case of the pump and fire-engine. He longed, like all artists, to be free from the petty cares and humiliations of the struggle for existence, free to give full rein to his lofty aspirations, secure in the confidence that those he loved were well provided for; but, like most other geniuses, he was compelled to drink still deeper of the bitter cup, to drain it to the very dregs. In the month of August, 1823, he went to Albany, hoping through his acquaintance with the Patroon, Stephen Van Rensselaer, to establish himself there. He painted the portrait of the Patroon, confident that, by its exhibition, he would secure other orders. In a letter to his wife he says:-- "I have found lodgings--a large front room on the second story, twenty-five by eighteen feet, and twelve feet high--a fine room for painting, with a neat little bedroom, and every convenience, and board, all for six dollars a week, which I think is very reasonable. My landlord is an elderly Irish gentleman with three daughters, once in independent circumstances but now reduced. Everything bears the appearance of old-fashioned gentility which you know I always liked. Everything is neat and clean and genteel.... Bishop Hobart and a great many acquaintances were on board of the boat upon which I came up to this city. "I can form no idea as yet of the prospect of success in my profession here. If I get enough to employ me I shall go no farther; if not, I may visit some of the smaller towns in the interior of the State. I await with some anxiety the result of experiments with my machine. I hope the invention may enable me to remain at home." "_16th of August._ I have not as yet received any application for a portrait. Many tell me I have come at the wrong time--the same tune that has been rung in my ears so long. I hope the right tune will come by and by. The winter, it is said, is the proper season, but, as it is better in the South at that season and it will be more profitable to be there, I shall give Albany a thorough trial and do my best. If I should not find enough to employ me here, I think I shall return to New York and settle there. This I had rather not do at present, but it may be the best that I can do. Roaming becomes more and more irksome. Imperious necessity alone drives me to this course. Don't think by this I am faint-hearted; I shall persevere in this course, painful as is the separation from my family, until Providence clearly points out my duty to return." "_August 22._ I have something to do. I have one portrait in progress and the promise of more. One hundred dollars will pay all my expenses here for three months, so that the two I am now painting will clear me in that respect and all that comes after will be clear gain. I am, therefore, easier in my mind as to this. The portrait I am now painting is Judge Moss Kent, brother of the Chancellor. He says that I shall paint the Chancellor when he returns to Albany, and his niece also, and from these particulars you may infer that I shall be here for some little time longer, just so long as my good prospects continue; but, should they fail, I am determined to try New York City, and sit down there in my profession permanently. I believe I have now attained sufficient proficiency to venture there. My progress may be slow at first, but I believe it will be sure. I do not like going South and I have given up the idea of New Orleans or any Southern city, at least for the present. Circumstances may vary this determination, but I think a settlement in New York is more feasible now than ever before. I shall be near you and home in cases of emergency, and in the summer and sickly season can visit you at New Haven, while you can do the same to me in New York until we live again at New Haven altogether. I leave out of this calculation the _machine for sculpture_. If that should entirely succeed, my plans would be materially varied, but I speak of my present plan as if that had failed." "_August 24._ I finished Mr. Kent's picture yesterday and received the money for it.... Mr. Kent is very polite to me, and has introduced me to a number of persons and families, among others to the Kanes--very wealthy people--to Governor Yates, etc. Mr. Clinton's son called on me and invited me to their house.... I have been introduced to Señor Rocafuerto, the Spaniard who made so excellent a speech before the Bible Society last May. He is a very handsome man, very intelligent, full of wit and vivacity. He is a great favorite with the ladies and is a man of wealth and a zealous patriot, studying our manners, customs, and improvements, with a view of benefiting his own countrymen in Peru.... I long to be with you again and to see you all at _home_. I fear I dote on _home_ too much, but mine is such an uncommon home, such a delightful home, that I cannot but feel strongly my privation of its pleasures." "_August 27._ My last two letters have held out to you some encouraging prospects of success here, but now they seem darkened again. I have had nothing to do this week thus far but to wait patiently. I have advertised in both of the city papers that I should remain one week to receive applications, but as yet it has produced no effect.... "Chancellor Kent is out of town and I was told yesterday would not be in until the end of next month. If I should have nothing to do in the mean time it is hardly worth while to stay solely for that. Many have been talking of having their portraits painted, but there it has thus far ended. I feel a little perplexed to know what to do. I find nothing in Albany which can profitably employ my leisure hours. If there were any pictures or statuary where I could sketch and draw, it would be different.... I have visited several families who have been very kind to me, for which I am thankful.... "I shall leave Albany and return to New York a week from to-day if there is no change in my prospects.... The more I think of making a push at New York as a permanent place of residence in my profession, the more proper it seems that it should be pretty soon. There is now no rival that I should fear; a few more years may produce one that would be hard to overcome. New York does not yet feel the influx of wealth from the Western canal but in a year or two she will feel it, and it will be advantageous to me to be previously identified among her citizens as a painter. "It requires some little time to become known in such a city as New York. Colonel T---- is growing old, too, and there is no artist of education sufficiently prominent to take his place as President of the Academy of Arts. By becoming more known to the New York public, and exerting my talents to discover the best methods of promoting the arts and writing about them, I may possibly be promoted to his place, where I could have a better opportunity of doing _something for the arts in our country_, the object at which I aim." "_September 3._ I have nothing to do and shall pack up on the morrow for New York unless appearances change again. I have not had full employment since I have been in Albany and I feel miserable in doing nothing. I shall set out on Friday, and perhaps may go to New Haven for a day or two to look at you all." He did manage to pay a short visit to his home, and then he started for New York by boat, but was driven by a storm into Black Rock Harbor and continued his journey from there by land. Writing home the day after his arrival he says: "I have obtained a place to board at friend Coolidge's at two dollars and twenty-five cents a week, and have taken for my studio a fine room in Broadway opposite Trinity Churchyard, for which I am to pay six dollars and fifty cents a week, being fifty cents less than I expected to pay." There has been some increase in the rental price of rooms on Broadway opposite Trinity Churchyard since that day. Further on he says:-- "I shall go to work in a few days vigorously. It is a half mile from my room to the place where I board, so that I am obliged to walk more than three miles every day. It is good exercise for me and I feel better for it. I sleep in my room on the floor and put my bed out of sight during the day, as at Washington. I feel in the spirit of 'buckling down to it,' and am determined to paint and study with all my might this winter." The loving wife is distressed at the idea of his sleeping on the floor, and thus expresses herself in a letter which is dated, curiously enough, November 31: "You know, dear Finley, I have always set my face as a flint and have borne my testimony against your sleeping on the floor. Indeed, it makes my heart ache, when I go to bed in my comfortable chamber, to think of my dear husband sleeping without a bedstead. Your mother says she sent one to Richard, which he has since told her was unnecessary as he used a settee, and which you can get of him. But, if it is in use, do get one or I shall take no comfort." Soon after his arrival in New York he began the portrait of Chancellor Kent, and writing of him he says:-- "He is not a good sitter; he scarcely presents the same view twice; he is very impatient and you well know that I cannot paint an impatient person; I must have my mind at ease or I cannot paint. "I have no more applications as yet, but it is not time to expect them. All the artists are complaining, and there are many of them, and they are all poor. The arts are as low as they can be. It is no better at the South, and all the accounts of the arts or artists are of the most discouraging nature." The portrait of the Chancellor seems not to have brought him more orders, for a little later he writes to his wife: "I waited many days in the hope of some application in my profession, but have been disappointed until last evening I called and spent the evening with my friend Mr. Van Schaick, and told him I had thought of painting some little design from the 'Sketch Book,' so as not to be idle, and mentioned the subject of Ichabod Crane discovering the headless horseman. "He said: 'Paint it for me and another picture of the same size, and I will take them of you.' So I am now employed.... "_My secret scheme_ is not yet disclosable, but I shall let you know as soon as I hear anything definite." Still later he says:-- "I have seen many of the artists; they all agree that little is doing in the city of New York. It seems wholly given to commerce. Every man is driving at one object--the making of money--not the spending of it.... "My _secret scheme_ looks promising, but I am still in suspense; you shall know the moment it is decided one way or the other." His brother, Sidney Edwards, in a letter to his parents of December 9, 1823, says: "Finley is in good spirits again; not because he has any prospect of business here, but he is dreaming of the gold mines of Mexico." As his _secret_ was now out, he explains it fully in the following letter to his wife, dated December 21, 1823:-- "My cash is almost gone and I begin to feel some anxiety and perplexity to know what to do. I have advertised, and visited, and hinted, and pleaded, and even asked one man to sit, but all to no purpose.... My expenses, with the most rigid economy, too, are necessarily great; my rent to-morrow will amount to thirty-three dollars, and I have nothing to pay it with. "What can I do? I have been here five weeks and there is not the smallest prospect _now_ of any difference as to business. I am willing to stay and wish to stay if there is anything to do. The pictures that I am painting for Mr. Van Schaick will not pay my expenses if painted here; my rent and board would eat it all up. "I have thought of various plans, but what to decide upon I am completely at a loss, nor can I decide until I hear definitely from Washington in regard to my Mexico expedition. Since Brother Sidney has hinted it to you I will tell you the state of it. I wrote to General Van Rensselaer, Mr. Poinsett, and Colonel Hayne, of the Senate, applying for some situation in the legation to Mexico soon to be sent thither. I stated my object in going and my wish to go free of expense and under government protection. "I received a letter a few days ago from General Van Rensselaer in which he says: 'I immediately laid your request before the President and seconded it with my warmest recommendations. It is impossible to predict the result at present. If our friend Mr. Poinsett is appointed minister, which his friends are pressing, he will no doubt be happy to have you in his suite.' "Thus the case rests at present. If Mr. Poinsett is appointed I shall probably go to Mexico, if not, it will be more doubtful.... If I go I should take my picture of the House of Representatives, which, in the present state of favorable feeling towards our country, I should probably dispose of to advantage. "All accounts that I hear from Mexico are in the highest degree favorable to my enterprise, and I hear much from various quarters." As can well be imagined, his wife did not look with unalloyed pleasure on this plan. She says in a letter of December 25, 1823: "I have felt much for you, my dearest Finley, in all your trials and perplexities. I was sorry to hear you had been unsuccessful in obtaining portraits. I hope you will, ere long, experience a change for the better.... As to the Mexico plan, I know not what to think of it. How can I consent to have you be at such a distance?" However, convinced by her husband that it would be for his best interests to go, she reluctantly gave her consent and he used every legitimate effort to secure the appointment. He was finally successful. Mr. Poinsett was not appointed as minister; this honor was bestowed on the Honorable Ninian Edwards, of Illinois, but Morse was named as one of his suite. In a note from the Honorable Robert Young Hayne, who, it will be remembered, was the opponent of Daniel Webster in the great debates on States' Rights in the Senate, Morse was thus apprised of his appointment: "Governor Edwards's suite consists of Mr. Mason, of Georgetown, D.C., secretary of the legation; Mr. Hodgson, of Virginia, private secretary; and yourself, attaché." Morse had great hopes of increasing his reputation as a painter and of earning much money in Mexico. He was perfectly frank in stating that his principal object in seeking an appointment as attaché was that he might pursue his profession, and, in a letter to Mr. Edwards of April 15, 1824, he thus explains why he considers this not incompatible with his duties as attaché: "That the pursuit of my profession will not be derogatory to the situation I may hold I infer from the fact that many of the ancient painters were ambassadors to different European courts, and pursued their professions constantly while abroad. Rubens, while ambassador to the English court, executed some of his finest portraits and decorated the ceiling of the chapel of White Hall with some of his best historical productions." When it was finally decided that he should go, he made all his preparations, including a bed and bedding among his impedimenta, being assured that this was necessary in Mexico, and bade farewell to his family. His father, his wife and children, and his sister-in-law accompanied him as far as New York. Writing of the parting he says: "A thousand affecting incidents of separation from my beloved family crowded upon my recollection. The unconscious gayety of my dear children as they frolicked in all their wonted playfulness, too young to sympathize in the pangs that agitated their distressed parents; their artless request to bring home some trifling toy; the parting kiss, not understood as meaning more than usual; the tears and sad farewells of father, mother, wife, sister, family, friends; the desolateness of every room as the parting glance is thrown on each familiar object, and 'farewell, farewell' seemed written on the very walls,--all these things bear upon my memory, and I realize the declaration that 'the places which now know us shall know us no more.'" [Illustration: LUCRETIA PICKERING WALKER, WIFE OF S.F.B. MORSE, AND TWO CHILDREN Painted by Morse] It must be borne in mind that a journey in those days, even one from New York to Washington, was not a few hours' ride in a luxurious Pullman, but was fraught with many discomforts, delays, and even dangers. As an example of this I shall quote the first part of a letter written by Morse from Washington to his wife on April 11, 1824:-- "I lose not a moment in informing you of my safe arrival, with all my baggage, in good order last evening. I was much fatigued, went to bed early, and this morning feel perfectly refreshed and much better for my journey. "After leaving you on Wednesday morning I had but just time to reach the boat before she started. In the land carriage we occupied three stages over a very rough road. In crossing a small creek in a ferry-boat the stage ahead of ours left the boat a little too soon and came near upsetting in the water, which would have put the passengers into a dangerous situation. As it was the water came into the carriage and wet some of the baggage. It was about an hour before they could get the stage out of the water. "Next came our turn. After travelling a few miles the springs on one side gave way and let us down, almost upsetting us. We got out without difficulty and, in a few minutes, by putting a rail under one side, we proceeded on again, jocosely telling the passengers in the third stage that it was their turn next. "When we arrived at the boat in the Delaware to our surprise the third stage came in with a rail under one side, having met with a similar accident a few miles after we left them. So we all had our turn, but no injury to any of us." His high hopes of success in this enterprise were soon doomed to be shattered, and once again he was made to suffer a bitter disappointment. On April 19 he writes: "I am at this moment put into a very embarrassing state of suspense by a political occurrence which has caused a great excitement here, and will cause considerable interest, no doubt, throughout the country. This morning a remonstrance was read in the House of Representatives from the Honorable Ninian Edwards against Mr. Crawford, which contains such charges and of so serious a nature as has led to the appointment of a select committee, with power to send for persons and papers in order to a full investigation; and I am told by many members of Congress that Mr. Edwards will undoubtedly be sent for, which will occasion, of course, a great delay in his journey to Mexico, if not cause a suspension of his going until the next season." The Mr. Crawford alluded to was William Harris Crawford, at that time a prominent candidate for the Presidency in the coming election. With his customary faith in an overruling Providence, Morse says later in the same letter: "This delay and suspense tries me more than distance or even absence from my dear family. If I could be on my way and pursuing my profession I should feel much better. But all will be for the best; though things look dark I can and will trust Him who will make my path of duty plain before me. This satisfies my mind and does not allow a single desponding thought." The sending of the legation was indefinitely postponed, and Morse, much disappointed but resolved not to be overwhelmed by this crushing of his high hopes, returned to New Haven. He spent the summer partly at home and partly in Concord, New Hampshire (where his wife and children had gone to visit her father), and in Portsmouth, Portland, and Hartford, having been summoned to those cities by patrons who wished him to paint their portraits. We can imagine that the young wife did not grieve over the failure of the Mexican trip. Her letters to her husband at that period are filled with expressions of the deepest affection, but with an undertone of melancholy, due, no doubt, to the increasing delicacy of her health, never very robust. In the fall of 1824 Morse resolved to make another assault on the purses of the solid men of New York, and he established himself at 96 Broadway, where, for a time, he had the satisfaction of having his wife and children with him. They, however, returned later to New Haven, and on December 5, 1824, he writes to his wife:-- "I am fully employed and in excellent spirits. I am engaged in painting the full-length portrait of Mr. Hone's little daughter, a pretty little girl just as old as Susan. I have made a sketch of the composition with which I am pleased, and so are the father and mother. I shall paint her with a cat set up in her lap like a baby, with a towel under its chin and a cap on its head, and she employed in feeding it with a spoon.... "I am as happy and contented as I can be without my dear Lucrece and our dear children, but I hope it will not be long before we shall be able to live together without these separations." "_December 17, 1824._ I have everything very comfortable at my rooms. My two pupils, Mr. Agate and Mr. Field, are very tractable and very useful. I have everything 'in Pimlico,' as mother would say. "I have begun, and thus far carried on, a system of neatness in my painting-room which I never could have with Henry. Everything has its place, and every morning the room is swept and all things put in order.... "I have as much as I can do in painting. I do not mean by this that I have the overflow that I had in Charleston, nor do I wish it. A hard shower is soon over; I wish rather the gentle, steady, continuing rain. I feel that I have a character to obtain and maintain, and therefore my pictures must be carefully studied. I shall not by this method paint so fast nor acquire property so fast, but I shall do what is better, secure a continuance of patronage and success. "I have no disposition to be a nine days' wonder, all the rage for a moment and then forgotten forever; compelled on this very account to wander from city to city, to shine a moment in one and then pass on to another." In a letter of a later date he says:-- "I am going on prosperously through the kindness of Providence in raising up many friends who are exerting themselves in my favor. My storms are partly over, and a clear and pleasant day is dawning upon me." CHAPTER XIII JANUARY 4, 1825--NOVEMBER 18, 1825 Success in New York.--Chosen to paint portrait of Lafayette.--Hope of a permanent home with his family.--Meets Lafayette in Washington.--Mutually attracted.--Attends President's levee.--Begins portrait of Lafayette.-- Death of his wife.--Crushed by the news.--His attachment to her.--Epitaph composed by Benjamin Silliman.--Bravely takes up his work again.-- Finishes portrait of Lafayette.--Describes it in letter of a later date. --Sonnet on death of Lafayette's dog.--Rents a house in Canal Street, New York.--One of the founders of National Academy of Design.--Tactful resolutions on organization.--First thirty members.--Morse elected first president.--Reëlected every year until 1845.--Again made president in 1861.--Lectures on Art.--Popularity. It is a commonly accepted belief that a particularly fine, clear day is apt to be followed by a storm. Meteorologists can probably give satisfactory scientific reasons for this phenomenon, but, be that as it may, how often do we find a parallel in human affairs. A period of prosperity and happiness in the life of a man or of a nation is almost invariably followed by calamities, small or great; but, fortunately for individuals and for nations, the converse is also true. The creeping pendulum of fate, pausing for an instant at its highest point, dips down again to gather impetus for a higher swing. And so it was with Morse. Fate was preparing for him a heavy blow, one of the tragedies of his eventful life, and, in order to hearten him for the trial, to give him strength to bear up under it, she cheered his professional path with the sun of prosperity. Writing to his wife from New York on January 4, 1825, he says:-- "You will rejoice with me, I know, in my continued and increasing success. I have just learned in confidence, from one of the members of the committee of the corporation appointed to procure a full-length portrait of Lafayette, that they have designated me as the painter of it, and that a subcommittee was appointed to wait on me with the information. They will probably call to-morrow, but, until it is thus officially announced to me, I wish the thing kept secret, except to the family, until I write you more definitely on the subject, which I will do the moment the terms, etc., are settled with the committee. "I shall probably be under the necessity of going to Washington to take it immediately (the corporation, of course, paying my expenses). But of this in my next." "_January 6, 1825._ I have been officially notified of my appointment to paint the full-length portrait of Lafayette for the City of New York, so that you may make it as public as you please. "The terms are not definitely settled; the committee is disposed to be very liberal. I shall have at least seven hundred dollars--probably one thousand. I have to wait until an answer can be received from Washington, from Lafayette to know when he can see me. The answer will arrive probably on Wednesday morning; after that I can determine what to do about going on. "The only thing I fear is that it is going to deprive me of my dear Lucretia. Recollect the old lady's saying, often quoted by mother, 'There is never a convenience but there ain't one'; I long to see you." It was well for the young man that he did not realize how dreadfully his jesting fears were to be realized. Further on he says: "I have made an arrangement with Mr. Durand to have an engraving of Lafayette's portrait. I receive half the profits. Vanderlyn, Sully, Peale, Jarvis, Waldo, Inman, Ingham, and some others were my competitors in the application for this picture." "_January 8._ Your letter of the 5th I have just received, and one from the committee of medical students engaging me to paint Dr. Smith's portrait for them when I come to New Haven. They are to give me one hundred dollars. I have written them that I should be in New Haven by the 1st of February, or, at farthest, by the 6th; so that it is only prolonging for a little longer, my dear wife, the happy meeting which I anticipated for the 25th of this month. Events are not under our own control. "When I consider how wonderfully things are working for the promotion of the great and _long-desired_ event--that of being constantly with my dear family--all unpleasant feelings are absorbed in this joyful anticipation, and I look forward to the spring of the year with delightful prospects of seeing my dear family permanently settled with me in our own hired house here. There are more encouraging prospects than I can trust to paper at present which must be left for your private ear, and which in magnitude are far more valuable than any encouragement yet made known to me. Let us look with thankful hearts to the Giver of all these blessings." "_Washington, February 8, 1825._ I arrived safely in this city last evening. I find I have no time to lose, as the Marquis will leave here the 23d. I have seen him and am to breakfast with him to-morrow, and to commence his portrait. If he allows me time sufficient I have no fear as to the result. He has a noble face. In this I am disappointed, for I had heard that his features were not good. On the contrary, if there is any truth in expression of character, there never was a more perfect example of accordance between the face and the character. He has all that noble firmness and consistency, for which he has been so distinguished, strongly indicated in his whole face. "While he was reading my letters I could not but call to mind the leading events of his truly eventful life. 'This is the man now before me, the very man,' thought I, 'who suffered in the dungeon of Olmütz; the very man who took the oaths of the new constitution for so many millions, while the eyes of thousands were fixed upon him (and which is so admirably described in the Life which I read to you just before I left home); the very man who spent his youth, and his fortune, and his time, to bring about (under Providence) our happy Revolution; the friend and companion of Washington, the terror of tyrants, the firm and consistent supporter of liberty, the man whose beloved name has rung from one end of this continent to the other, whom all flock to see, whom all delight to honor; this is the man, the very identical man!' My feelings were almost too powerful for me as I shook him by the hand and received the greeting of--'Sir, I am exceedingly happy in your acquaintance, and especially on such an occasion.'" Thus began an acquaintance which ripened into warm friendship between Morse and Lafayette, and which remained unbroken until the death of the latter. "_February 10, 1825._ I went last night to the President's levee, the last which Mr. Monroe will hold as President of the United States. There was a great crowd and a great number of distinguished characters, among whom were General Lafayette; the President-elect, J.Q. Adams; Mr. Calhoun, the Vice-President elect; General Jackson, etc. I paid my respects to Mr. Adams and congratulated him on his election. He seemed in some degree to shake off his habitual reserve, and, although he endeavored to suppress his feelings of gratification at his success, it was not difficult to perceive that he felt in high spirits on the occasion. General Jackson went up to him and, shaking him by the hand, congratulated him cordially on his election. The General bears his defeat like a man, and has shown, I think, by this act a nobleness of mind which will command the respect of those who have been most opposed to him. "The excitement (if it may be called such) on this great question in Washington is over, and everything is moving on in its accustomed channel again. All seem to speak in the highest terms of the order and decorum preserved through the whole of this imposing ceremony, and the good feeling which seems to prevail, with but trivial exceptions, is thought to augur well in behalf of the new administration." (There was no choice by the people in the election of that year, and John Quincy Adams had been chosen President by a vote of the House of Representatives.) "I went last night in a carriage with four others--Captain Chauncey of the navy; Mr. Cooper, the celebrated author of the popular American novels; Mr. Causici (pronounced Cau-see-chee), the sculptor; and Mr. Owen, of Lanark, the celebrated philanthropist. "Mr. Cooper remarked that we had on board a more singularly selected company, he believed, than any carriage at the door of the President, namely, a _misanthropist_ (such he called Captain Chauncey, brother of the Commodore), a _philanthropist_ (Mr. Owen), a _painter_ (myself), a _sculptor_ (Mr. Causici), and an _author_ (himself). "The Mr. Owen mentioned above is the very man I sometimes met at Mr. Wilberforce's in London, and who was present at the interesting scene I have often related that occurred at Mr. Wilberforce's. He recollected the circumstance and recognized me, as I did him, instantly, although it is twelve years ago. "I am making progress with the General, but am much perplexed for want of time; I mean _his time_. He is so harassed by visitors and has so many letters to write that I find it exceedingly difficult to do the subject justice. I give him the last sitting in Washington to-morrow, reserving another sitting or two when he visits New York in July next. I have gone on thus far to my satisfaction and do not doubt but I shall succeed entirely, if I am allowed the requisite number of sittings. The General is very agreeable. He introduced me to his son by saying: 'This is Mr. Morse, the painter, the son of the geographer; he has come to Washington to take the topography of my face.' He thinks of visiting New Haven again when he returns from Boston. He regretted not having seen more of it when he was there, as he was much pleased with the place. He remembers Professor Silliman and others with great affection. "I have left but little room in this letter to express my affection for my dearly loved wife and children; but of that I need not assure them. I long to hear from you, but direct your letters next to New York, as I shall probably be there by the end of next week, or the beginning of the succeeding one. "Love to all the family and friends and neighbors. Your affectionate husband, as ever." Alas! that there should have been no telegraph then to warn the loving husband of the blow which Fate had dealt him. As he was light-heartedly attending the festivities at the White House, and as he was penning these two interesting letters to his wife, letters which she never read, and anticipating with keenest pleasure a speedy reunion, she lay dead at their home in New Haven. His father thus conveys to him the melancholy intelligence:-- "_February 8th, 1825._ My affectionately beloved Son,--Mysterious are the ways of Providence. My heart is in pain and deeply sorrowful while I announce to you the sudden and unexpected death of your dear and deservedly loved wife. Her disease proved to be an _affection of the heart_--incurable, had it been known. Dr. Smith's letter, accompanying this, will explain all you will desire to know on this subject. "I wrote you yesterday that she was convalescent. So she then appeared and so the doctor pronounced. She was up about five o'clock yesterday P.M. to have her bed made as usual; was unusually cheerful and social; spoke of the pleasure of being with her dear husband in New York ere long; stepped into bed herself, fell back with a momentary struggle on her pillow, her eyes were immediately fixed, the paleness of death overspread her countenance, and in five minutes more, without the slightest motion, her mortal life terminated. "It happened that just at this moment I was entering her chamber door with Charles in my arms, to pay her my usual visit and to pray with her. The nurse met me affrighted, calling for help. Your mother, the family, our neighbors, full of the tenderest sympathy and kindness, and the doctors thronged the house in a few minutes. Everything was done that could be done to save her life, but her 'appointed time' had come, and no earthly power or skill could stay the hand of death. "It was the Lord who gave her to you, the chiefest of all your earthly blessings, and it is He that has taken her away, and may you be enabled, my son, from the heart to say: 'Blessed be the name of the Lord.'... The shock to the whole family is far beyond, in point of severity, that of any we have ever before felt, but we are becoming composed, we hope on grounds which will prove solid and lasting. "I expect this will reach you on Saturday, the day after the one we have appointed for the funeral, when you will have been in Washington a week and I hope will have made such progress in your business as that you will soon be able to return.... "You need not hurry home. Nothing here requires it. We are all well and everything will be taken good care of. Give yourself no concern on that account. Finish your business as well as you will be able to do it after receiving this sad news." This blow was an overwhelming one. He could not, of course, compose himself sufficiently to continue his work on the portrait of Lafayette, and, having apprised the General of the reason for this, he received from the following sympathetic letter:-- I have feared to intrude upon you, my dear sir, but want to tell you how deeply I sympathize in your grief--a grief of which nobody can better than me appreciate the cruel feelings. You will hear from me, as soon as I find myself again near you, to finish the work you have so well begun. Accept my affectionate and mournful sentiment. LAFAYETTE. The day after he received his father's letter he left Washington and wrote from Baltimore, where he stopped over Sunday with a friend, on February 13:-- MY DEAR FATHER,--The heart-rending tidings which you communicated reached me in Washington on Friday evening. I left yesterday morning, spend this day here at Mr. Cushing's, and set out on my return home to-morrow. I shall reach Philadelphia on Monday night, New York on Tuesday night, and New Haven on Wednesday night. Oh! is it possible, is it possible? Shall I never see my dear wife again? But I cannot trust myself to write on this subject. I need your prayers and those of Christian friends to God for support. I fear I shall sink under it. Oh! take good care of her dear children. Your agonized son, FINLEY. Another son had been born to him on January 20, 1825, and he was now left with three motherless children to provide for, and without the sustaining hope of a speedy and permanent reunion with them and with his beloved wife. Writing to a friend more than a month after the death of his wife, he says:-- "Though late in performing the promise I made you of writing you when I arrived home, I hope you will attribute it to anything but forgetfulness of that promise. The confusion and derangement consequent on such an afflicting bereavement as I have suffered have rendered it necessary for me to devote the first moments of composure to looking about me, and to collecting and arranging the fragments of the ruin which has spread such desolation over all my earthly prospects. "Oh! what a blow! I dare not yet give myself up to the full survey of its desolating effects. Every day brings to my mind a thousand new and fond connections with dear Lucretia, all now ruptured. I feel a dreadful void, a heart-sickness, which time does not seem to heal but rather to aggravate. "You know the intensity of the attachment which existed between dear Lucretia and me, never for a moment interrupted by the smallest cloud; an attachment founded, I trust, in the purest love, and daily strengthening by all the motives which the ties of nature and, more especially, of religion, furnish. "I found in dear Lucretia everything I could wish. Such ardor of affection, so uniform, so unaffected, I never saw nor read of but in her. My fear with regard to the measure of my affection toward her was not that I might fail of 'loving her as my own flesh,' but that I should put her in the place of Him who has said, 'Thou shalt have no other Gods but me.' I felt this to be my greatest danger, and to be saved from this _idolatry_ was often the subject of my earnest prayers. "If I had desired anything in my dear Lucretia different from what she was, it would have been that she had been _less lovely_. My whole soul seemed wrapped up in her; with her was connected all that I expected of happiness on earth. Is it strange, then, that I now feel this void, this desolateness, this loneliness, this heart-sickness; that I should feel as if my very heart itself had been torn from me? "To any one but those who knew dear Lucretia what I have said might seem to be but the extravagance of an excited imagination; but to you, who knew the dear object I lament, all that I have said must but feebly shadow her to your memory." [Illustration: STUDY FOR PORTRAIT OF LAFAYETTE Now in New York Public Library] It was well for him that he found constant occupation for his hand and brain at this critical period of his life. The Fates had dealt him this cruel blow for some good reason best known to themselves. He was being prepared for a great mission, and it was meet that his soul, like gold, should be purified by fire; but, at the same time, that the blow might not utterly overwhelm him, success in his chosen profession seemed again to be within his grasp. Writing to his parents from New York, on April 8, 1825, he says:-- "I have as much as I can do, but after being fatigued at night and having my thoughts turned to my irreparable loss, I am ready almost to give up. The thought of seeing my dear Lucretia, and returning home to her, served always to give me fresh courage and spirits whenever I felt worn down by the labors of the day, and now I hardly know what to substitute in her place. "To my friends here I know I seem to be cheerful and happy, but a cheerful countenance with me covers an aching heart, and often have I feigned a more than ordinary cheerfulness to hide a more than ordinary anguish. "I am blessed with prosperity in my profession. I have just received another commission from the corporation of the city to paint a common-sized portrait of Rev. Mr. Stanford for them, to be placed in the almshouse." The loss of his young wife was the great tragedy of Morse's life. Time, with her soothing touch, healed the wound, but the scar remained. Hers must have been, indeed, a lovely character. Professor Benjamin Silliman, Sr., one of her warmest friends, composed the epitaph which still remains inscribed upon her tombstone in the cemetery at New Haven. (See opposite page.) IN MEMORY OF LUCRETIA PICKERING WIFE OF SAMUEL F.B. MORSE WHO DIED 7TH OF FEBRUARY A.D. 1825, AGED 25 YEARS. SHE COMBINED, IN HER CHARACTER AND PERSON, A RARE ASSEMBLAGE OF EXCELLENCES: BEAUTIFUL IN FORM, FEATURES AND EXPRESSION PECULIARLY BLAND IN HER MANNERS, HIGHLY CULTIVATED IN MIND, SHE IRRESISTIBLY DREW ATTENTION, LOVE, AND RESPECT; DIGNIFIED WITHOUT HAUGHTINESS, AMIABLE WITHOUT TAMENESS, FIRM WITHOUT SEVERITY, AND CHEERFUL WITHOUT LEVITY, HER UNIFORM SWEETNESS OF TEMPER SPREAD PERPETUAL SUNSHINE AROUND EVERY CIRCLE IN WHICH SHE MOVED. "WHEN THE EAR HEARD HER IT BLESSED HER, WHEN THE EYE SAW HER IT GAVE WITNESS TO HER." IN SUFFERINGS THE MOST KEEN, HER SERENITY OF MIND NEVER FAILED HER; DEATH TO HER HAD NO TERRORS, THE GRAVE NO GLOOM. THOUGH SUDDENLY CALLED FROM EARTH, ETERNITY WAS NO STRANGER TO HER THOUGHTS, BUT A WELCOME THEME OF CONTEMPLATION. RELIGION WAS THE SUN THAT ILLUMINED EVERY VIRTUE, AND UNITED ALL IN ONE BOW OF BEAUTY. HERS WAS THE RELIGION OF THE GOSPEL; JESUS CHRIST HER FOUNDATION, THE AUTHOR AND FINISHER OF HER FAITH. IN HIM SHE RESTS, IN SURE EXPECTATION OF A GLORIOUS RESURRECTION. With a heavy heart, but bravely determining not to be overwhelmed by this crushing blow, Morse took up his work again. He finished the portrait of Lafayette, and it now hangs in the City Hall in New York. Writing of it many years later to a gentleman who had made some enquiries concerning it, he says:-- "In answer to yours of the 8th instant, just received, I can only say it is so long since I have seen the portrait I painted of General Lafayette for the City of New York, that, strange to say, I find it difficult to recall even its general characteristics. "That portrait has a melancholy interest for me, for it was just as I had commenced the second sitting of the General at Washington that I received the stunning intelligence of Mrs. Morse's death, and was compelled abruptly to suspend the work. I preserve, as a gratifying memorial, the letter of condolence and sympathy sent in to me at the time by the General, and in which he speaks in flattering terms of the promise of the portrait as a likeness. "I must be frank, however, in my judgment of my own works of that day. This portrait was begun under the sad auspices to which I have alluded, and, up to the close of the work, I had a series of constant interruptions of the same sad character. A picture painted under such circumstances can scarcely be expected to do the artist justice, and as a work of art I cannot praise it. Still, it is a good likeness, was very satisfactory to the General, and he several times alluded to it in my presence in after years (when I was a frequent visitor to him in Paris) in terms of praise. "It is a full-length, standing figure, the size of life. He is represented as standing at the top of a flight of steps, which he has just ascended upon a terrace, the figure coming against a glowing sunset sky, indicative of the glory of his own evening of life. Upon his right, if I remember, are three pedestals, one of which is vacant as if waiting for his bust, while the two others are surmounted by the busts of Washington and Franklin--the two associated eminent historical characters of his own time. In a vase on the other side is a flower-the helianthus--with its face toward the sun, in allusion to the characteristic stern, uncompromising consistency of Lafayette-a trait of character which I then considered, and still consider, the great prominent trait of that distinguished man." Morse, like many men who have excelled in one branch of the fine arts, often made excursions into one of the others. I find among his papers many scraps of poetry and some more ambitious efforts, and while they do not, perhaps, entitle him to claim a poet's crown, some of them are worthy of being rescued from oblivion. The following sonnet was sent to Lafayette under the circumstances which Morse himself thus describes:-- "Written on the loss of a faithful dog of Lafayette's on board the steamboat which sank in the Mississippi. The dog, supposing his master still on board, could not be persuaded to leave the cabin, but perished with the vessel. "Lost, from thy care to know thy master free Can we thy self-devotion e'er forget? 'Twas kindred feeling in a less degree To that which thrilled the soul of Lafayette. He freely braved our storms, our dangers met, Nor left the ship till we had 'scaped the sea. Thine was a spark of noble feeling bright Caught from the fire that warms thy master's heart. His was of Heaven's kindling, and no small part Of that pure fire is His. We hail the light Where'er it shines, in heaven, in man, in brute; We hail that sacred light howe'er minute, Whether its glimmering in thy bosom rest Or blaze full orb'd within thy master's breast." This was sent to General Lafayette on the 4th of July, 1825, accompanied by the following note:-- "In asking your acceptance of the enclosed poetic trifle, I have not the vanity to suppose it can contribute much to your gratification; but if it shall be considered as an endeavor to show to you some slight return of gratitude for the kind sympathy you evinced towards me at a time of deep affliction, I shall have attained my aim. Gladly would I offer to you any service, but, while a whole nation stands waiting to answer the expression of your smallest wish, my individual desire to serve you can only be considered as contending for a portion of that high honor which all feel in serving you." Concealing from the world his great sorrow, and bravely striving always to maintain a cheerful countenance, Morse threw himself with energy into his work in New York, endeavoring to keep every minute occupied. He seems to have had his little daughter with him for a while, for in a letter of March 12, 1825, occurs this sentence: "Little Susan has had the toothache once or twice, and I have promised her a doll if she would have it out to-day--I am this moment stopped by her coming in and showing me the _tooth out_, so I shall give her the doll." But he soon found that it would be impossible for him to do justice to his work and at same time fulfil his duties as a parent, and for many years afterwards his motherless children found homes with different relatives, but the expense of their keep and education was always borne by their father. On the 1st of May, 1825, he moved into new quarters, having rented an entire house at No. 20 Canal Street for the sum of four hundred dollars a year, and he says, "My new establishment will be very commodious for my professional studies, and I do not think its being so far '_up town_' will, on the whole, be any disadvantage to me." "May 26, 1825. I have at length become comfortably settled and begin to feel at home in my new establishment. All things at present go smoothly. Brother Charles Walker and Mr. Agate join with me in breakfast and tea, and we find it best for convenience, economy, and time to dine from home,--it saves the perplexity of providing marketing and the care of stores, and, besides, we think it will be more economical and the walk will be beneficial." While success in his profession seemed now assured, and while orders poured in so fast that he gladly assisted some of his less fortunate brother artists by referring his would-be patrons to them, he also took a deep interest in the general artistic movement of the time. He was, by nature, intensely enthusiastic, and his strong personality ever impressed itself on individuals and communities with which he came in contact. He was a born leader of men, and, like so many other leaders, often so forgetful of self in his eager desire for the general good as to seriously interfere with his material prosperity. This is what happened to him now, for he gave so liberally of himself in the formation of a new artistic body in New York, and in the preparation of lectures, that he encroached seriously on time which might have been more lucratively employed. His brother Sidney comments on this in a letter to the other brother Richard: "Finley is well and in good spirits, though not advancing very rapidly in his business. He is full of the Academy and of his lectures-- can hardly talk on any other subject. I despair of ever seeing him rich or even at ease in his pecuniary circumstances from efforts of his own, though able to do it with so little effort. But he may be in a better way, perhaps, of getting a fortune in his present course than he would be in the laborious path which we are too apt to think is the only road to wealth and ultimate ease." We have seen that Morse was one of the founders of an academy of art in Charleston, South Carolina, and we have seen that, after his departure from that city, this academy languished and died. Is it an unfair inference that, if he had remained permanently in Charleston, so sad a fate would not have overtaken the infant academy? In support of this inference we shall now see that he was largely instrumental in bringing into being an artistic association, over which he presided for many years, and which has continued to prosper until, at the present day, it is the leading artistic body in this country. When Morse settled in New York in 1825 there existed an American Academy of Arts, of which Colonel Trumbull, the celebrated painter, was the president. While eminent as a painter, Trumbull seems to have lacked executive ability and to have been rather haughty and overbearing in his manner, for Morse found great dissatisfaction existing among the professional artists and students. At first it was thought that, by bringing their grievances before the board of directors of the Academy, conditions might be changed, and on the 8th of November, 1825, a meeting was called in the rooms of the Historical Society, and the "New York Drawing Association" was formed, and Morse was chosen to preside over its meetings. It was not intended, at first, that this association should be a rival of the old Academy, but that it should give to its members facilities which were difficult of attainment in the Academy, and should, perhaps, force that institution to become more liberal. It was not successful in the latter effort, for at a meeting of the Drawing Association on the evening of the 14th of January, 1825, Morse, the president, proposed certain resolutions which he introduced by the following remarks:-- "We have this evening assumed a new attitude in the community; our negotiations with the Academy are at an end; our union with it has been frustrated after every proper effort on our part to accomplish it. The two who were elected as directors from our ticket have signified their non-acceptance of the office. We are therefore left to organize ourselves on a plan that shall meet the wishes of us all. "A plan of an institution which shall be truly liberal, which shall be mutually beneficial, which shall really encourage our respective arts, cannot be devised in a moment; it ought to be the work of great caution and deliberation and as simple as possible in its machinery. Time will be required for the purpose. We must hear from distant countries to obtain their experience, and it must necessarily be, perhaps, many months before it can be matured. "In the mean time, however, a preparatory, simple organization can be made, and should be made as soon as possible, to prevent dismemberment, which may be attempted by outdoor influence. On this subject let us all be on our guard; let us point to our public documents to any who ask what we have done and why we have done it, while we go forward minding only our own concerns, leaving the Academy of Fine Arts as much of our thoughts as they will permit us, and, bending our attention to our own affairs, act as if no such institution existed. "One of our dangers at present is division and anarchy from a want of organization suited to the present exigency. We are now composed of artists in the four arts of design, namely, painting, sculpture, architecture, and engraving. Some of us are professional artists, others amateurs, others students. To the professed and practical artist belongs the management of all things relating to schools, premiums, and lectures, so that amateur and student may be most profited. The amateurs and students are those alone who can contend for the premiums, while the body of professional artists exclusively judge of their rights to premiums and award them. "How shall we first make the separation has been a question which is a little perplexing. There are none of us who can assume to be the body of artists without giving offence to others, and still every one must perceive that, to organize an academy, there must be the distinction between professional artists, amateurs who are students, and professional students. The first great division should be the body of professional artists from the amateurs and students, constituting the body who are to manage the entire concerns of the institution, who shall be its officers, etc. "There is a method which strikes me as obviating the difficulty; place it on the broad principle of the formation of any society--universal suffrage. We are now a mixed body; it is necessary for the benefit of all that a separation into classes be made. Who shall make it? "Why, obviously the body itself. Let every member of this association take home with him a list of all the members of it. Let each one select for himself from the whole list _fifteen_, whom he would call professional artists, to be the ticket which he will give in at the next meeting. "These fifteen thus chosen shall elect not less than _ten_, nor more than _fifteen_, professional artists, in or out of the association, who shall (with the previously elected fifteen) constitute the body to be called the National Academy of the Arts of Design. To these shall be delegated the power to regulate its entire concerns, choose its members, select its students, etc. "Thus will the germ be formed to grow up into an institution which we trust will be put on such principles as to encourage--not to depress--the arts. When this is done our body will no longer be the Drawing Association, but the National Academy of the Arts of Design, still including all the present association, but in different capacities. "One word as to the name 'National Academy of the Arts of Design.' Any less name than 'National' would be taking one below the American Academy, and therefore is not desirable. If we were simply the 'Associated Artists,' their name would swallow us up; therefore 'National' seems a proper one as to the arts of design. These are painting, sculpture, architecture, and engraving, while the fine arts include poetry, music, landscape gardening, and the histrionic arts. Our name, therefore, expresses the entire character of our institution and that only." From this we see that Morse's enthusiasm was tempered with tact and common sense. His proposals were received with unanimous approval, and on the 15th of January, 1826, the following fifteen were chosen:--S.F.B. Morse, Henry Inman, A.B. Durand, John Frazee, William Wall, Charles C. Ingham, William Dunlap, Peter Maverick, Ithiel Town, Thomas S. Cummings, Edward Potter, Charles C. Wright, Mosely J. Danforth, Hugh Reinagle, Gerlando Marsiglia. These fifteen professional artists added by ballot to their number the following fifteen:--Samuel Waldo, William Jewett, John W. Paradise, Frederick S. Agate, Rembrandt Peale, James Coyle, Nathaniel Rogers, J. Parisen, William Main, John Evers, Martin E. Thompson, Thomas Cole, John Vanderlyn (who declined), Alexander Anderson, D.W. Wilson. Thus was organized the National Academy of Design. Morse was elected its first president and was annually reëlected to that office until the year 1845, when, the telegraph having now become an assured success, he felt that he could not devote the necessary time and thought to the interests of the Academy, and he insisted on retiring. In the year 1861 he was prevailed upon by Thomas S. Cummings, one of the original academicians, but now a general, to become again the president, and he served in that office for a year. The General, in a letter to Mr. Prime in 1873, says, "and, I may add, was beloved by all." I shall not attempt to give a detailed account of the early struggles of the Academy, closely interwoven though they be with Morse's life. Those who may be interested in the matter will find them all detailed in General Cummings' "Records of the National Academy of Design." Morse prepared and delivered a number of lectures on various subjects pertaining to the fine arts, and most of these have been preserved in pamphlet form. In this connection I shall quote again from the letter of General Cummings before alluded to:-- "Mr. Morse's connection with the Academy was doubtless unfavorable in a pecuniary point of view; his interest in it interfering with professional practice, and the time taken to enable him to prepare his course of lectures materially contributed to favor a distribution of his labors in art to other hands, and it never fully returned to him. His 'Discourse on Academies of Art,' delivered in the chapel of Columbia College, May, 1827, will long stand as a monument of his ability in the line of art literature. "As an historical painter Mr. Morse, after Allston, was probably the best prepared and most fully educated artist of his day, and should have received the attention of the Government and a share of the distributions in art commissions." That his efforts were appreciated by his fellow artists and by the cultivated people of New York is thus modestly described in a letter to his parents of November 18, 1825:-- "I mentioned that reputation was flowing in upon me. The younger artists have formed a drawing association at the Academy and elected me their president. We meet in the evenings of three days in a week to draw, and it has been conducted thus far with such success as to have trebled the number of our association and excited the attention and applause of the community. There is a spirit of harmony among the artists, every one says, which never before existed in New York, and which augurs well for the success of the arts. "The artists are pleased to attribute it to my exertions, and I find in them in consequence expressions and feelings of respect which have been very gratifying to me. Whatever influence I have had, however, in producing this pleasant state of things, I think there was the preparation in the state of mind of the artists themselves. I find a liberal feeling in the younger part of them, and a refinement of manners, which will redeem the character of art from the degradation to which a few dissipated interlopers have, temporarily, reduced it. "A Literary Society, admission to which must be by unanimous vote, and into which many respectable literary characters of the city have been denied admission, has chosen me a member, together with Mr. Hillhouse and Mr. Bryant, poets. This indicates good feelings towards me, to say the least, and, in the end, will be of advantage, I have no doubt." CHAPTER XIV JANUARY 1, 1826--DECEMBER 5, 1829 Success of his lectures, the first of the kind in the United States.-- Difficulties of his position as leader.--Still longing for a home.--Very busy but in good health.--Death of his father.--Estimates of Dr. Morse.-- Letters to his mother.--Wishes to go to Europe again.--Delivers address at first anniversary of National Academy of Design.--Professor Dana lectures on electricity.--Morse's study of the subject.--Moves to No. 13 Murray Street.--Too busy to visit his family.--Death of his mother.--A remarkable woman.--Goes to central New York.--A serious accident.--Moral reflections.--Prepares to go to Europe.--Letter of John A. Dix.--Sails for Liverpool.--Rough voyage.--Liverpool. January 1, 1826 MY DEAR PARENTS,--I wish you all a Happy New Year! Kiss my little ones as a New Year's present from me, which must answer until I visit them, when I shall bring them each a present if I hear good accounts from them.... The new year brings with it many painful reflections to me. When I consider what a difference a year has accomplished in my situation; that one on whom I depended so much for domestic happiness at this time last year gave me the salutations of the season, and now is gone where years are unknown; and when I think how mysteriously I am separated from my little family, and that duty may keep me I know not how much longer in this solitary state, I have much that makes the present season far from being a Happy New Year to me. But, mysterious as things seem in regard to the future, I know that all will be ordered right, and I have a great deal to say of mercy in the midst of judgment, and a thousand unmerited blessings with all my troubles. But why do I talk of troubles? My cup is overflowing with blessings. As far as outward circumstances are concerned, Providence seems to be opening an honorable and useful course to me. Oh! that I may be able to bear prosperity, if it is his will to bestow it, or be denied it if not accompanied with his blessing.... I am much engaged in my lectures, have completed two, nearly, and hope to get through the four in season for my turn at the Athenæum. These lectures are of great importance to me, for, if well done, they place me alone among the artists; I being the only one who has as yet written a course of lectures in our country. Time bestowed on them is not, therefore, misspent, for they will acquire me reputation which will yield wealth, as mother, I hope, will live to see. "_January 15, 1826._ On this day I seem to have the only moment in the week in which I can write you, for I am almost overwhelmed by the multitude of cares that crowd upon me.... I find that the path of duty, though plain, is not without its roughness. I can say but in one word that the Association of Artists, of whom I am president, after negotiations of some weeks with the Academy of Fine Arts to come into it on terms of mutual benefit, find their efforts unavailing, and have separated and formed a new academy to be called, probably, the National Academy of the Arts of Design. I am at its head, but the cares and responsibility which devolve on me in consequence are more than a balance for the honor. The battle is yet to be fought for the need of public favor, and were it not that the entire and perfect justness of our cause is clear to me in every point of view, I should retire from a contest which would merely serve to rouse up all the 'old Adam' to no profit; but the cause of the artists seems, under Providence, to be, in some degree, confided to me, and I cannot shrink from the cares and troubles at present put upon me. I have gone forward thus far, asking direction from above, and, in looking around me, I feel that I am in the path of duty. May I be kept in it and be preserved from the temptations, the various and multiplied and complicated temptations, to which I know I shall be exposed. In every step thus far I feel an approving conscience; there is none I could wish to retrace.... "I fear you will think I have but few thoughts for you all at home, and my dear little ones in particular. I do think of them, though, very often, with many a longing to have a home for them under a parent's roof, and all my efforts now are tending distantly to that end; but when I shall ever have a home of my own, or whether it will ever be, I know not. The necessity for a second connection on their account seems pressing, but I cannot find my heart ready for it. I am occasionally rallied on the subject, but the suggestion only reminds me of her I have lost, and a tear is quite as ready to appear as a smile; or, if I can disguise it, I feel a pang within that shows me the wound is not yet healed. It is eleven months since she has gone, but it seems but yesterday." "_April 18, 1826._ I don't know but you will think I have forgotten how to write letters, and I believe this is the first I have written for six weeks. "The pressure of my lectures became very great towards the close of them, and I was compelled to bend my whole attention to their completion. I did not expect, when I delivered my first, that I should be able to give more than two, but the importance of going through seemed greater as I advanced, and I was strengthened to accomplish the whole number, and, if I can judge from various indications, I think I have been successful. My audience, consisting of the most fashionable and literary society in the city, regularly increased at each successive lecture, and at the last it was said that I had the largest audience ever assembled in the room. "I am now engaged on Lafayette in expectation of completing it for our exhibition in May, after which time I hope I shall be able to see you for a day or two in New Haven. I long to see you all, and those dear children often make me feel anxious, and I am often tempted to break away and have a short look at them, but I am tied down here and cannot move at present. All that I am doing has some reference to their interest; they are constantly on my mind. "... My health was never better with all my intense application, sitting in my chair from seven in the morning until twelve or one o'clock the next morning, with only about an hour's intermission. I have felt no permanent inconvenience. On Saturday night, generally, I have felt exceedingly nervous, so that my whole body and limbs would shake, but resting on the Sabbath seemed to give me strength for the next week. Since my mind is relieved from my lectures I have felt new life and spirits, and feel strong to accomplish anything." "_May 10, 18S6._ I have just heard from mother and feel anxious about father. Nothing but the most imperious necessity prevents my coming immediately to New Haven; indeed, as it is, I will try and break away sometime next week, if possible, and pass one day with you, but how to do it without detriment to my business I don't know.... "I have longed for some time for a little respite, but, like our good father, all his sons seem destined for most busy stations in society, and constant exertions, not for themselves alone, but for the public benefit." Whether this promised visit to New Haven was paid or not is not recorded, but it is to be hoped that it was made possible, for the good husband and father, the faithful worker for the betterment of mankind, was called to his well-earned rest on the 9th of June, 1826. Of him Dr. John Todd said, "Dr. Morse lived before his time and was in advance of his generation." President Dwight of Yale found him "as full of resources as an egg is of meat"; and Daniel Webster spoke of him as "always thinking, always writing, always talking, always acting." Mr. Prime thus sums up his character: "He was a man of genius, not content with what had been and was, but originating and with vast executive ability combining the elements to produce great results. To him more than to any other one man may be attributed the impulses given in his day to religion and learning in the United States. A polished gentleman in his manners; the companion, correspondent, and friend of the most eminent men in Church and State; honored at the early age of thirty-four with the degree of Doctor of Divinity by the University of Edinburgh, Scotland; sought by scholars and statesmen from abroad as one of the foremost men of his country and time." The son must have felt keenly the loss of his father so soon after the death of his wife. The whole family was a singularly united one, each member depending on the others for counsel and advice, and the father, who was but sixty-five when he died, was still vigorous in mind, although of delicate constitution. Later in this year Morse managed to spend some time in New Haven, and he persuaded his mother to seek rest and recuperation in travel, accompanying her as far as Boston and writing to her there on his return to New Haven. "_September 20, 1826._ I arrived safely home after leaving you yesterday and found that neither the house nor the folks had run away.... Persevere in your travels, mother, as long as you think it does you good, and tell Dick to brush up his best bows and bring home some lady to grace the now desolate mansion." On November 9, 1826, he writes to his mother from New York:-- "Don't think I have forgotten you all at home because I have been so remiss in writing you lately. I feel guilty, however, in not stealing some little time just to write you one line. I acknowledge my fault, so please forgive me and I will be a _better boy_ in future. "The fact is I have been engaged for the last three days during all my leisure moments in something unusual with me,--I mean _electioneering_. 'Oh! what a sad boy!' mother will say. 'There he is leaving everything at sixes and sevens, and driving through the streets, and busying himself about those _poison politics_.' Not quite so fast, however. "I have not neglected my own affairs, as you will learn one of these days. I have an historical picture to paint, which will occupy me for some time, for a proprietor of a steamboat which is building in Philadelphia to be the most splendid ever built. He has engaged historical pictures of Allston, Vanderlyn, Sully, and myself, and landscapes of the principal landscape painters, for a gallery on board the boat. I consider this as a new and noble channel for the encouragement of painting, and in such an enterprise and in such company I shall do my best. "What do you think of sparing me for about one year to visit Paris and Rome to finish what I began when in Europe before? My education as a painter is incomplete without it, and the time is rapidly going away when my age will render it impossible to profit by such studies, even if I should be able, at a future time, to visit Europe again.... I can, perhaps, leave my dear little ones at their age better than if they were more advanced, and, as my views are ultimately to benefit them, I think no one will accuse me of neglecting them. If they do, they know but little of my feelings towards them." The mother's answer to this letter has not been preserved, but whether she dissuaded him from going at that time, or whether other reasons prevented him, the fact is that he did not start on the voyage to Europe (the return trip proving so momentous to himself and to the world) until exactly three years later. I shall pass rapidly over these intervening three years. They were years of hard work, but of work rewarded by material success and increasing honor in the community. On May 8, 1827, on the occasion of the first anniversary of the National Academy of Design, Morse, its president, delivered an address before a brilliant audience in the chapel of Columbia College. This address was considered so remarkable that, at the request of the Academy, it was published in pamphlet form. It called forth a sharp review in the "North American," which voiced the opinions of those who were hostile to the new Academy, and who considered the term "National" little short of arrogant. Morse replied to this attack in a masterly manner in the "Journal of Commerce," and this also was published in pamphlet form and ended the controversy. In the year 1827, Professor James Freeman Dana, of Columbia College, delivered a series of lectures on the subject of electricity at the New York Athenæum. Professor Dana was an enthusiast in the study of that science, which, at that time, was but in its infancy, and he foresaw great and beneficial results to mankind from this mysterious force when it should become more fully understood. Morse, already familiar with the subject from his experiments with Professor Silliman in New Haven, took a deep interest in these lectures, and he and Professor Dana became warm friends. The latter, on his side a great admirer of the fine arts, spent many hours in the studio of the artist, discussing with him the two subjects which were of absorbing interest to them both, art and electricity. In this way Morse became perfectly familiar with the latest discoveries in electrical science, so that when, a few years later, his grand conception of a simple and practicable means of harnessing this mystic agent to the uses of mankind took form in his brain, it found a field already prepared to receive it. I wish to lay particular emphasis on this point because, in later years, when his claims as an inventor were bitterly assailed in the courts and in scientific circles, it was asserted that he knew nothing whatever of the science of electricity at the time of his invention, and that all its essential features were suggested to him by others. In the year 1828, Morse again changed his quarters, moving to a suite of rooms at No. 13 Murray Street, close to Broadway, for which he paid a "great rent," $500, and on May 6 of that year he writes to his mother: "Ever since I left you at New Haven I have been over head and ears in arrangements of every kind. It is the busiest time of the whole year as it regards the National Academy. We have got through the arrangement of our exhibition and yesterday opened it to the guests of the Academy. We had the first people in the city, ladies and gentlemen, thronging the room all day, and the voice of all seemed to be--'It is the best exhibition of the kind that has been seen in the city.' "I am now arranging my rooms; they are very fine ones. I shall be through in a few days, and then I hope to be able to come up and see you, for I feel very anxious about you, my dear mother. I do most sincerely sympathize with you in your troubles and long to come up and take some of the care and burden from you, and will do it as soon as my affairs here can be arranged so that I can leave them without serious detriment to them.... What a siege you must have had with your _help_, as it is most strangely called in New Haven. I am too aristocratic for such doings as _help_ would make those who live in New Haven endure. Ardently as I am attached to New Haven the plague of _help_ will probably always prevent my living there again, for I would not put up with 'the world turned upside down,' and therefore should give offense to their _helpinesses_, and so lead a very uncomfortable life." From this our suspicion is strengthened that the servant question belongs to no time or country, but is and always has been a perennial and ubiquitous problem. "_May 11, 1888._ I feel very anxious about you, dear mother. I heard through Mr. Van Rensselaer that you were better, and I hope that you will yet see many good days on earth and be happy in the affection of your children and friends here, before you go, a little before them, to join those in heaven." While expressing anxiety about his mother's health, he could not have considered her condition critical, for on the 18th of May he writes again:-- "I did hope so to make my arrangements as to have been with you in New Haven yesterday and to-day, but I am so situated as to be unable to leave the city without great detriment to my business.... Unless, therefore, there is something of pressing necessity, prudence would dictate to me to take advantage of this season, which has generally been the most profitable to others in the profession, and see if I cannot get my share of something to do. It is a great struggle with me to know what I ought to do. Your situation and that of the family draw me to New Haven; the state of my finances keeps me here. I will come, however, if, on the whole, you think it best." Again are the records silent as to whether the visit was paid or not, but his anxiety was well founded, for his mother's appointed time had come, and just ten days later, on the 28th of May, 1828, she died at the age of sixty-two. Thus within the space of three years the hand of death had removed the three beings whom Morse loved best. His mother, while, as we have seen, stern and uncompromising in her Puritan principles, yet possessed the faculty of winning the love as well as the respect of her family and friends. Dr. Todd said of her home: "An orphan myself and never having a home, I have gone away from Dr. Morse's house in tears, feeling that such a home must be more like heaven than anything of which I could conceive." Mr. Prime, in his biography of Morse, thus pays tribute to her:-- "Two persons more unlike in temperament, it is said, could not have been united in love and marriage than the parents of Morse. The husband was sanguine, impulsive, resolute, regardless of difficulties and danger. She was calm, judicious, cautious, and reflecting. And she, too, had a will of her own. One day she was expressing to one of the parish her intense displeasure with the treatment her husband had received, when Dr. Morse gently laid his hand upon her shoulder and said, 'My dear, you know we must throw the mantle of charity over the imperfections of others.' And she replied with becoming spirit, 'Mr. Morse, charity is not a fool.'" In the summer of 1828, Morse spent some time in central New York, visiting relatives and painting portraits when the occasion offered. He thus describes a narrow escape from serious injury, or even death, in a letter to his brother Sidney, dated Utica, August 17, 1828:-- "In coming from Whitesboro on Friday I met with an accident and a most narrow escape with my life. The horse, which had been tackled into the wagon, was a vicious horse and had several times run away, to the danger of Mr. Dexter's life and others of the family. I was not aware of this or I should not have consented to go with him, much less to drive him myself. "I was alone in the wagon with my baggage, and the horse went very well for about a mile, when he gradually quickened his pace and then set out, in spite of all check, on the full run. I kept him in the road, determined to let him run himself tired as the only safe alternative; but just as I came in sight of a piece of the road which had been concealed by an angle, there was a heavy wagon which I must meet so soon that, in order to avoid it, I must give it the whole road. "This being very narrow, and the ditches and banks on each side very rough, I instantly made up my mind to a serious accident. As well as the velocity of the horse would allow me, however, I kept him on the side, rough as it was, for about a quarter of a mile pretty steadily, expecting, however, to upset every minute; when all at once I saw before me an abrupt, narrow, deep gully into which the wheels on one side were just upon the point of going down. It flashed across me in an instant that, if I could throw the horse down into the ditch, the wheels of the wagon might, perhaps, rest equipoised on each side, and, perhaps, break the horse loose from the wagon. "I pulled the rein and accomplished the object in part. The sudden plunge of the horse into the gully broke him loose from the wagon, but it at the same time turned one of the fore wheels into the gully, which upset the wagon and threw me forwards at the moment when the horse threw up his heels, just taking off my hat and leaving me in the bottom of the gully. I fell on my left shoulder, and, although muddied from head to foot, I escaped without any injury whatever; I was not even jarred painfully. I found my shoulder a little bruised, my wrist very slightly scratched, and yesterday was a little, and but very little, stiffened in my limbs, and to-day have not the slightest feeling of bruise about me, but think I feel better than I have for a long time. Indeed, my health is entirely restored; the riding and country air have been the means of restoring me. I have great cause of thankfulness for so much mercy and for such special preserving care." [Illustration: ELIZABETH A. MORSE Painted by Morse] The historian or the biographer who is earnestly desirous of presenting an absolutely truthful picture of men and of events is aided in his task by taking into account the character of the men who have made history. He must ask the question: "Is it conceivable that this man could have acted thus and so under such and such circumstances when his character, as ultimately revealed through the perspective of time, has been established? Could Washington and Lincoln, for example, have been actuated by the motives attributed to them by their enemies?" Like all men who have become shining marks in the annals of history, Morse could not hope to escape calumny, and in later years he was accused of actions, and motives were imputed to him, which it becomes the duty of his biographer to disprove on the broad ground of moral impossibility. Among his letters and papers are many rough drafts of thoughts and observations on many subjects, interlined and annotated. Some were afterwards elaborated into letters, articles, or lectures; others seem to have been the thought of the moment, which he yet deemed worth writing down, and which, perhaps better than anything else, reveal the true character of the man. The following was written by him in pencil on Sunday, September 6, 1829, at Cooperstown, New York:-- "That temptations surround us at every moment is too evident to require proof. If they cease from without they still act upon us from within ourselves, and our most secret thoughts may as surely be drawn from the path of duty by secret temptation, by the admission of evil suggestions, and they will affect our characters as injuriously as those more palpable and tangible temptations that attack our sense. "This life is a state of discipline; a school in which to form character. There is not an event that comes to our knowledge, not a sentence that we read, not a person with whom we converse, not an act of our lives, in short, not a thought which we conceive, but is acting upon and moulding that character into a shape of good or evil; and, however unconscious we may be of the fact, a thought, casually conceived in the solitariness and silence and darkness of midnight, may so modify and change the current of our future conduct that a blessing or a curse to millions may flow from it. "All our thoughts are mysteriously connected with good or evil. Their very habits, too, like the habits of our actions, are strengthened by indulgence, and, according as we indulge the evil or the good, our characters will partake of the moral character of each. But actions proceed from thoughts; we act as we think. Why should we, then, so cautiously guard our actions from impropriety while we give a loose rein to our thoughts, which so certainly, sooner or later, produce their fruits in our actions? "God in his wisdom has separated at various distances sin and the consequence of sin. In some instances we see a sin instantly followed by its fruits, as of revenge by murder. In others we see weeks and months and years, aye, and ages, too, elapse before the fruits of a single act, the result, perhaps, of a single thought, are seen in all their varieties of evil. "How long ere the fruits of one sin in Paradise will cease to be visible in the moral universe? "If this reasoning is correct, I shall but cheat myself in preserving a good moral outward appearance to others if every thought of the heart, in the most secret retirement, is not carefully watched and checked and guarded from evil; since the casual indulgence of a single evil thought in secret may be followed, long after that thought is forgotten by me, and when, perhaps, least expected, by overt acts of evil. "Who, then, shall say that in those pleasures in which we indulge, and which by many are called, and apparently are, innocent, there are not laid the seeds of many a corrupt affection? Who shall say that my innocent indulgence at the card table or at the theatre, were I inclined to visit them, may not produce, if not in me a passion for gaming or for low indulgence, yet in others may encourage these views to their ruin? "Besides, 'Evil communications corrupt good manners,' and even places less objectionable are studiously to be avoided. The soul is too precious to be thus exposed. "Where then is our remedy? In Christ alone. 'Cleanse thou me from secret faults. Search me, O God, and know my thoughts; try me and know my ways and see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way which is everlasting.'" This is but one of many expressions of a similar character which are to be found in the letters and notes, and which are illuminating. Morse was now making ready for another trip to Europe. He had hoped, when he returned home in 1815, to stay but a year or two on this side and then to go back and continue his artistic education, which he by no means considered complete, in France and Italy. We have seen how one circumstance after another interfered to prevent the realization of this plan, until now, after the lapse of fourteen years, he found it possible. His wife and his parents were dead; his children were being carefully cared for by relatives, the daughter Susan by her mother's sister, Mrs. Pickering, in Concord, New Hampshire, and the boys by their uncle, Richard C. Morse, who was then happily married and living in the family home in New Haven. The National Academy of Design was now established on a firm footing and could spare his guiding hand for a few years. He had saved enough money to defray his expenses on a strictly economical basis, but, to make assurance doubly sure, he sought and received commissions from his friends and patrons in America for copies of famous paintings, or for original works of his own, so that he could sail with a clear conscience as regarded his finances. His friends were uniformly encouraging in furthering his plan, and he received many letters of cordial good wishes and of introduction to prominent men abroad. I shall include the following from John A. Dix, at that time a captain in the army, but afterwards a general, and Governor of New York, who, although he had been an unsuccessful suitor for the hand of Miss Walker, Morse's wife, bore no ill-will towards his rival, but remained his firm friend to the end:-- COOPERSTOWN, 27th October, 1829. MY DEAR SIR,--I have only time to say that I have been absent in an adjacent county and fear there is not time to procure a letter for you to Mr. Rives before the 1st. I have written to Mr. Van Buren and he will doubtless send you a letter before the 8th. Therefore make arrangements to have it sent after you if you sail on the 1st. I need not say I shall be very happy to hear from you during your sojournment abroad. Especially tell me what your impressions are when you turn from David's picture with Romulus and Tatius in the foreground, and Paul Veronese's Marriage at Cana directly opposite, at the entrance of the picture gallery in the Louvre. We are all well and all desire to be remembered. I have only time to add my best wishes for your happiness and prosperity. Yours truly and constantly, JOHN A. DIX. The Mr. Rives mentioned in the letter was at that time our Minister to France, and the Mr. Van Buren was Martin Van Buren, then Secretary of State in President Jackson's Cabinet, and afterwards himself President of the United States. The following is from the pencilled draft of a letter or the beginning of a diary which was not finished, but ends abruptly:-- "On the 8th November, 1829, I embarked from New York in the ship Napoleon, Captain Smith, for Liverpool. The Napoleon is one of those splendid packets, which have been provided by the enterprise of our merchants, for the accommodation of persons whose business or pleasure requires a visit to Europe or America. "Precisely at the appointed hour, ten o'clock, the steamboat with the passengers and their baggage left the Whitehall dock for our gallant ship, which was lying to above the city, heading up the North River, careening to the brisk northwest gale, and waiting with apparent impatience for us, like a spirited horse curvetting under the rein of his master, and waiting but his signal to bound away. A few moments brought us to her side, and a few more saw the steamboat leave us, and the sad farewells to relatives and friends, who had thus far accompanied us, were mutually exchanged by the waving of hands and of handkerchiefs. The 'Ready about,' and soon after the 'Mainsail haul' of the pilot were answered by the cheering 'Ho, heave, ho' of the sailors, and, with the fairest wind that ever blew, we fast left the spires and shores of the great city behind us. In two hours we discharged our pilot to the south of Sandy Hook, with his pocket full of farewell letters to our friends, and then stood on our course for England. "Four days brought us to the Banks of Newfoundland, one third of our passage. Many of our passengers were sanguine in their anticipations of our making the shortest passage ever known, and, had our subsequent progress been as great as at first, we should doubtless have accomplished the voyage in thirteen days, but calms and head winds for three days on the Banks have frustrated our expectations. "There is little that is interesting in the incidents of a voyage. The indescribable listlessness of seasickness, the varied state of feeling which changes with the wind and weather, have often been described. These I experienced in all their force. From the time we left the Banks of Newfoundland we had a continued succession of head winds, and when within one fair day's sail of land, we were kept off by severe gales directly ahead for five successive days and nights, during which time the uneasy motion of the ship deprived us all of sleep, except in broken intervals of an half-hour at a time. We neither saw nor spoke any vessel until the evening of the ----, when we descried through the darkness a large vessel on an opposite course from ourselves; we first saw her cabin lights. It was blowing a gale of wind before which we were going on our own course at the rate of eleven miles an hour. It was, of course, impossible to speak her, but, to let her know that she had company on the wide ocean, we threw up a rocket which for splendor of effect surpassed any that I had ever seen on shore. It was thrown from behind the mizzenmast, over which it shot arching its way over the main and foremasts, illuminating every sail and rope, and then diving into the water, piercing the wave, it again shot upwards and vanished in a loud report. To our companion ship the effect must have been very fine. "The sea is often complained of for its monotony, and yet there is great variety in the appearance of the sea." Here it ends, but we learn a little more of the voyage and the landing in England from a letter to a cousin in America, written in Liverpool, on December 5, 1829:-- "I arrived safely in England yesterday after a long, but, on the whole, pleasant, passage of twenty-six days. I write you from the inn (the King's Arms Hotel) at which I put up eighteen years ago. This inn is the one at which Professor Silliman stayed when he travelled in England, and which he mentions in his travels. The old Frenchman whom he mentions I well remember when I was here before. I enquired for him and am told he is still living, but I have not seen him. "There is a large black man, a waiter in the house, who is quite a polished man in his manners, and an elderly white man, with white hair, who looks so respectable and dignified that one feels a little awkward at first in ordering him to do this or that service; and the chambermaids look so venerable and matronly that to ask them for a pitcher of water seems almost rude to them. But I am in a land where domestic servants are the best in the world. No servant aspires to a higher station, but feels a pride in making himself the first in that station. I notice this, for our own country presents a melancholy contrast in this particular." Here follows a description of the voyage, and he continues:-- "Yesterday we anchored off the Floating Light, sixteen miles from the city, unable to reach the dock on account of the wind, but the post-office steamboat (or steamer, as they call them here) came to us from Liverpool to take the letter-bags, and I with other passengers got on board, and at twelve o'clock I once more placed my foot on English ground. "The weather is true English weather, thick, smoky, and damp. I can see nothing of the general appearance of the city. The splendid docks, which were building when I was here before, are now completed and extend along the river. They are really splendid; everything about them is solid and substantial, of stone and iron, and on so large a scale. "I have passed my baggage through the custom-house, and on Monday I proceed on my journey to London through Birmingham and Oxford. Miss Leslie, a sister of my friend Leslie of London, is my _compagnon de voyage_. She is a woman of fine talents and makes my journey less tedious and irksome than it would otherwise be.... I have a long journey before me yet ere I reach Rome, where I intended to be by Christmas Day, but my long voyage will probably defeat my intention." CHAPTER XV DECEMBER 6, 1829--FEBRUARY 6, 1830 Journey from Liverpool to London by coach.--Neatness of the cottages.-- Trentham Hall.--Stratford-on-Avon.--Oxford.--London.--Charles R. Leslie. --Samuel Rogers.--Seated with Academicians at Royal Academy lecture.-- Washington Irving.--Turner.--Leaves London for Dover.--Canterbury Cathedral.--Detained at Dover by bad weather.--Incident of a former visit.--Channel steamer.--Boulogne-sur-Mer.--First impressions of France.--Paris.--The Louvre.--Lafayette.--Cold in Paris.--Continental Sunday.--Leaves Paris for Marseilles in diligence.--Intense cold.-- Dijon.--French funeral.--Lyons.--The Hôtel Dieu.--Avignon.--Catholic church services.--Marseilles.--Toulon.--The navy yard and the galley slaves.--Disagreeable experience at an inn.--The Riviera.--Genoa. Morse was now thirty-eight years old, in the full vigor of manhood, of a spare but well-knit frame and of a strong constitution. While all his life, and especially in his younger years, he was a sufferer from occasional severe headaches, he never let these interfere with the work on hand, and, by leading a sane and rational life, he escaped all serious illnesses. He was not a total abstainer as regards either wine or tobacco, but was moderate in the use of both; a temperance advocate in the true sense of the word. His character had now been moulded both by prosperity and adversity. He had known the love of wife and children, and of father and mother, and the cup of domestic happiness had been dashed from his lips. He had experienced the joy of the artist in successful creation, and the bitterness of the sensitive soul irritated by the ignorant, and all but overwhelmed by the struggle for existence. He had felt the supreme joy of swaying an audience by his eloquence, and he had endured with fortitude the carping criticism of the envious. Through it all, through prosperity and through adversity, his hopeful, buoyant nature had triumphed. Prosperity had not spoiled him, and adversity had but served to refine. He felt that he had been given talents which he must utilize to the utmost, that he must be true to himself, and that, above all, he must strive in every way to benefit his fellow men. This motive we find recurring again and again in his correspondence and in his ultimate notes. Not, "What can I do for myself?" but "What can I do for mankind?" Never falsely humble, but, on the contrary, properly proud of his achievements, jealous of his own good name and fame and eager _honestly_ to acquire wealth, he yet ever put the public good above his private gain. He was now again in Europe, the goal of his desires for many years, and he was about to visit the Continent, where he had never been. Paris, with her treasures of art, Italy, the promised land of every artist, lay before him. We shall miss the many intimate letters to his wife and to his parents, but we shall find others to his brothers and to his friends, perhaps a shade less unreserved, but still giving a clear account of his wanderings, and, from a mass of little notebooks and sketch-books, we can follow him on his pilgrimage and glean some keen observations on the peoples and places visited by him. It must be remembered that this was still the era of the stage-coach and the diligence, and that it took many days to accomplish a journey which is now made in almost the same number of hours. On Christmas Day, 1829, he begins a letter from Dover to a favorite cousin, Mrs. Margaret Roby, of Utica, New York:-- "When I left Liverpool I took my seat upon the outside of the coach, in order to see as much as possible of the country through which I was to pass. Unfortunately the fog and smoke were so dense that I could see objects but a few yards from the road. Occasionally, indeed, the fog would become less dense, and we could see the fine lawns of the seats of the nobility and gentry, which were scattered on our route, and which still retained their verdure. Now and then the spire and towers of some ancient village church rose out of the leafless trees, beautifully simple in their forms, and sometimes clothed to the very tops with the evergreen ivy. It was severely cold; my eyebrows, hair, cap, and the fur of my cloak were soon coated with frost, but I determined to keep my seat though I suffered some from the cold. "Their fine natural health, or the frosty weather, g