CONCERNING THE MOHAWKS.
By W. Max Reid.
I am somewhat at a loss to select a name for the subject of this paper. I dare not dignify it by the title of a history of the Mohawks, because a true history of that notable people never has been or never can be written. It is true that "Colden's Five Nations," "Morgan's League of the Iroquois," and Schoolcraft's notes are looked upon as authority on this subject, but Morgan's work is in a great measure legendary and altogether unsatisfying, and the same may be said of Colden and Schoolcraft, although the little that Colden has to say about the Mohawks is accepted as authority as far as it goes.
As to the origin of the Mohawks, it will always remain a mystery. Conjecture may or may not approach the truth, but from the fact that they had no written language, no records on stone or parchment from which we can obtain knowledge of their origin or early history, it is evident that our only sources of information are the vague traditions that have been transmitted orally from parent to child or from Sachem to Sachem.
How unreliable and unsatisfactory these oral traditions are, may be noted in what is called the "Iroquoian Cosmology," or the "Creation," as translated by J. N. B. Hewitt, of the Bureau of Ethnology. Mr. Hewitt gives three versions of the "Creation," the Onondaga, Mohawk and the Seneca. They are practically alike, differing only in minor statements. The Onondaga is the longest and the Seneca the shortest version. I will give you, however, a condensed rendering of the Mohawk tradition. It says:
"In the sky above were man-beings, both male and female, who dwelt in villages, and in one of the lodges was a man and woman, who were down-fended, that is, they were secluded, and their lodge was surrounded by the down of the cat-tail, which was a sign that no one should approach them, nor were they allowed to leave this precinct. The man became ill and stated that he would not get well until a dogwood tree standing in his dooryard had been uprooted. So when his people had uprooted the tree he said to his wife, 'Do thou spread for me something there beside the place where stood the tree.' Thereupon she spread something for him there and he then lay down on what she had spread for him, and he said to his wife: 'Here sit thou, beside my body.' Now at that time she did sit beside him as he lay there. Then he said to her: 'Do thou hang thy legs down into the abyss.' For where they had uprooted the tree there came to be a deep hole, which went through the sky, and the earth was upturned about it.
"And while he lay there he recovered from his illness and turning on his side he looked into the hole. After a while he said to his wife: 'Do thou look thither into the hole to see what things are occurring there in yonder place.' And as she bent her body to look into the hole he took her by the nape of the neck and pushed her and she fell into the hole and kept falling into the darkness thereof. After a while she passed through and as she looked about her, as she slowly fell, she saw that all about her was blue in color and soon discovered that what she observed was a vast expanse of water, on which floated all kinds of water fowls in great numbers.
"Thereupon. Loon, looking into the water and seeing her reflection, shouted, 'A man-being, a female is coming up from the depths of the waters.' The Bittern, answering, said, 'She is not indeed coming up out of the depths of the water, she is falling from above.' Thereupon they held a council to decide what they should do to provide for her welfare.
"They finally invited Great Turtle to come. Loon, thereupon, said to him, 'Thou should float thy body above the place where thou art in the depths of the water.' And then as Great Turtle arose to the surface, a large body of ducks of various kinds arose from the face of the water, elevated themselves in a very compact body, and went up to meet her. And on their backs did she alight, and they slowly descended, bearing her body on their backs, and on the back of Great Turtle they placed her.
"Then Loon said, 'Come, you deep divers, dive and bring up earth.' Many dived into the water, and Beaver was a long time gone. When his back appeared he was dead, and when they examined his paws, they found no earth. Then Otter said, 'It is my turn.' Whereupon he dived, and after a longer time he also came up dead. Neither did he bring up any earth. It was then that Muskrat said, 'I also will make the desperate attempt.' It was a still longer time that he was under water, but after a while he also floated to the surface, dead. In his paws was mud and his mouth was full of mud. And they took this mud and coated the edge of Great Turtle's shell all around, and other muskrats dived and floated dead, but brought up mud, which was placed on Great Turtle's back. And the female man-being sat on the back of Great Turtle and slept. And when she awoke the earth had increased in size, and she slept again, and when she awoke, willows were growing along the edge of the water. And then, also, when she again awoke, the carcass of a deer recently killed, lay there, and a fire was burning, and a sharp stone. And she dressed, cooked, and ate her fill. And after a while a rivulet appeared and rapidly the earth increased to great size, and grass and herbs sprung from the earth and grew to maturity.
"And after a while the female man-being gave birth to a girl child, who grew rapidly to maturity, and not long after gave birth to two male man-beings, but the daughter died in giving birth to the twins. And the grandmother cut off the head of her dead daughter and hung her body in a high place and it became the sun, and the head she placed in another place and it became the moon.
"And when she examined one of the infants she found his flesh was nothing but flint and there was a sharp comb of flint over the top of his head, but the flesh of the other was in every respect like a man-being.
"It seems that these two were antagonistic from their birth, the grandmother clinging to the flint child and driving the other into the wilderness; and in his wanderings he came to the shore of a lake and saw a lodge standing there. Looking in the doorway he saw a man sitting there, who said to him, 'Enter thou here. This man was Great Turtle, who gave him a bow and arrow, and also gave him two ears of corn, one in the milky state, which he told him to roast and eat as food, and the other, which was mature, he should use for seed corn.
"He also endowed him with preternatural powers. And when he was about to depart, he said to the young man, 'I am Great Turtle, I am thy parent.'
"Sapling, which was the name of the young man-being, created animals out of earth, and birds by casting handfuls of earth into the air. He also formed the body of a man and the body of a woman, and gave them life and placed them together. Returning shortly after he found them sleeping. Again and again he returned and still they slept. 'Thereupon he took a rib from each and substituted the one for the other and replaced each one in the other's body. It was not long before the woman awoke and sat up. At once she touched the breast of the man lying at her side, just where Sapling had placed her rib, and, of course, that tickled him. Thereupon he awoke. Awoke to life and understanding.'"
As in the Biblical story of Cain and Abel, the two brothers fought and in the end one was slain. But is was the unrighteous one, the one with the flint body, who lost his life.
Nearly three hundred years ago, the Jesuits recorded traditions of the Algonquins and Huron-Iroquois of Canada, which were practically the same in their main features as the above. (See Jesuit Rel. vol. 10, pages 127-129.)
The Montagnais and Adirondacks of Canada, and in fact all the Algonquin nations, seem to have some tradition of the deluge, which in some way is mixed with the Huron-Iroquois tradition of the creation. In fact, it deals with a re-creation of the earth.
They say that one Messou restored the world when it was lost in the waters. Their story of the deluge is practically as follows:
This Messou went a hunting with lynxes, instead of dogs, and was warned that it would be dangerous for his lynxes in a certain lake near the place where he was. One day as he was hunting an elk his lynxes gave it chase even into the lake; and when they reached the middle of it, they were submerged in an instant. When Messou arrived there and sought his lynxes, who were indeed his brothers, a bird told him that it had seen them in the bottom of the lake, and that certain animals or monsters held them there. He at once leaped into the water to rescue them, but immediately the lake overflowed, and increased so prodigiously that it inundated and drowned the whole earth. Astonished, he gave up all thought of his lynxes and turned his attention to creating the world anew. First he sent a raven to find a small piece of earth with which to build a new world. The raven returned unsuccessful. He made an Otter dive down, but he could not reach the bottom. At last a muskrat descended and brought back some earth. With this bit of earth Messou restored every thing to its former condition.
But it is among the Iroquois that Great Turtle plays the principal part in the creation. In fact it is said that he upholds the earth to this day. In one of the cases of the "Richmond collection" in the museum of the Montgomery County Historical Society, is an old rattle which can be traced back more than a hundred years. We have looked upon it as an interesting relic of the Senecas, a rude musical instrument. It is made from a turtle shell and skin, and in the enclosed space has been placed pebbles for rattles.
But this instrument is interesting beyond all that. Father LeJune, in his Relation of 1639, makes the following statement in describing a dance at a feast given for a sick woman: "At the head of the procession marched two masters of ceremonies, singing and holding the tortoise, on which they did not cease to play. This tortoise is not a real tortoise, but only the shell and skin, so arranged as to make a sort of drum or rattle. Having thrown certain pebbles into it they make from it an instrument like that the children in France used to play with. There is a mysterious something, I know not what, in this semblance of a tortoise, to Which these people attribute their origin. We shall know in time what there is to it."
It is said that in no Amerind (the word Amerind is a new word coined by the Bureau of Ethnology to take the place of the three words "North American Indian." You will notice that it is composed or formed from the first four letters of American and the first three letters of Indian) language, could the Jesuit Priests find a word to express the idea of God or His attributes. Although the most charitable of people and showing the utmost affection for their children, the Jesuits were unable, in the Amerind language, to impress upon them or to communicate to them, the idea of an all-loving and charitable Supreme Being. They had their Manitou, but they feared them and gave them the character of the devil, one who should be propitiated by presents, by penances, or by scourges and feasts.
In the Amerind's mind, each animal had a king, as the Great Turtle, the Great Bear, etc. The fathers said to them if the animals have each a Supreme Being, why should not man have a great chief of men, who lives in the sky; a Great Spirit. This idea they accepted, and although they did not or could not give him the attributes of the Christian's God, the Great Spirit became "a distinct existence, a pervading power in the universe, and a dispenser of justice."
This idea the Jesuits had to accept, although in exceptional cases, they seemed to impress their idea of God upon some of their converts while they had them at the missions, but they were sure to become apostates when they returned to their people in the wilderness. So you will see that "The Great Spirit" of the Indians is a modern idea received from the whites and not, as some think, a Supreme Being evolved ages ago from the Amerind mind.
Parkman says: "The primitive Indian believed in the immortality of the soul, and that skillful hunters, brave warriors, and men of influence went, after death, to the happy hunting-grounds, while the slothful, the cowardly, the weak were doomed to eat serpents and ashes in dreary and misty regions, but there was no belief that the good were to be rewarded for moral good, or the evil punished for a moral evil."
So you will see that the writing of a history of the Mohawks would be an arduous task, a history filled with mystery and superstition together with kindly deeds and warlike acts, a history of a people endowed with minds that were able to conceive a union of tribes, states or nations, call them what you may, and to perpetuate that union for centuries, the success of which suggested to our forefathers the union of states, the government under which we now live.
L. Of C.
"HOLLANDER."
ROBERT R. LIVINGSTON,
The Author of the Louisiana Purchase.
Hon. D. S. Alexander.
After signing the treaty ceding Louisiana to the United States, Robert R. Livingston declared it the noblest work of his life. If one may not assent to this enthusiastic statement of the speaker, who had been a member of the committee to draft the immortal Declaration of Independence, it is easy to admit that his work stands next in historical importance to the treaty of 1783, which recognized American independence. It added half an empire to our domain, and, a century later, gave Edward Everett Hale opportunity to speak of Livingston as "the wisest American of his time," since "Franklin had died in 1780."
When Livingston signed the Louisiana treaty he was fifty-six years of age, tall and handsome, with an abundance of hair already turning gray, which fell in ringlets over a square, high forehead, lending a certain dignity that made him appear as great off the bench as he did when gowned and throned as Chancellor. In the estimation of his contemporaries he was one of the most gifted men of his time, and the judgment of a later age has not reversed their decision. He added learning to great natural ability, and brilliancy to profound thought, and although so deaf as to make communication with him difficult, he came very near concealing the defect by his remarkable eloquence and conversational gifts. Benjamin Franklin called him "the Cicero of America." His love for the beautiful attracted Edmund Burke. It is doubtful if he had a superior in the State in the knowledge of history and the classics, and in the study of science Samuel L. Mitchell alone stood above him. He lacked the creative genius of Hamilton, the prescient gifts of Jay, and the skill of Aaron Burr to marshal men for selfish purposes; but he was at home in debate with the ablest men of his time, a master of sarcasm, of trenchant wit, and of felicitous rhetoric. It is likely that he lacked Kent's application. But of ninety-three bills passed by the legislature from 1778 to 1801, a period that spans his life as Chancellor, and which were afterward vetoed by the Council of Revision, Livingston wrote opinions in twenty-three, several of them elaborate, and all revealing capacity for legislation. In these vetoes he stood with Hamilton in resisting forfeitures and confiscations; he held with Richard Morris that loyal citizens could not be deprived of lands, though bought of an alien enemy; he agreed with Jay in upholding common law rights and limiting the death penalty; and he had the support of George Clinton and John Sloss Hobart in disapproving a measure for the gradual abolition of slavery, because the legislature thought it politically expedient to deprive colored men of the right to vote who had before enjoyed such a privilege.
In the field of politics, Livingston's search for office did not result in a happy career. So long as he stood for a broader and stronger national life his intellectual rays flashed far beyond the horizon of most of his contemporaries, but the joy of public life was clouded when he entered the domain of partisan politics. His mortification that someone other than himself was appointed Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, made Hamilton's funding system, especially the proposed assumption of State debts, sufficient excuse for becoming an anti-federalist, and had he possessed those qualities of leadership that bind party and friends by ties of unflinching service, he might have reaped the reward that his ambition so ardently craved; but his peculiar temper unfitted him for such a career. Jealous, fretful, sensitive, and suspicious, he was as restless as his eloquence was dazzling, and when, at last, he became the anti-federalist candidate for governor in 1798, in opposition to John Jay, the campaign ended in deep humiliation. His candidacy was clearly a dash for the Presidency. He reasoned, as every ambitious New York statesman has reasoned from that day to this, that if he could carry the State in an off year, he would be needed, as the candidate of his whole party, in a Presidential year. This reasoning reduces the governorship to a sort of springboard from which to vault into the White House, and although only one man in a century has performed the feat, it has always figured as a popular and potent factor in the settlement of political nominations. George Clinton thought the Presidency would come to him, and Hamilton inspired Jay with a similar notion; but Livingston, sanguine of better treatment, was willing, for the sake of undertaking it, voluntarily to withdraw from the professional path along which he had moved to great distinction.
The personal qualities which seemed to unfit Livingston for political leadership in New York did not strengthen his usefulness in France. It was the breadth of view which distinguished him in the formation of the Union that brought him success as a diplomat. With the map of America spread out before him he handled the Louisiana problem as patriotically as he had argued for a stronger national life, and when, at last, he signed the treaty, he had forever enlarged the geography of his country.
As the American minister to the court of Napoleon, Livingston reached France in November, 1801. President Jefferson had already heard a rumor of the retrocession of Louisiana by Spain to France, and had given it little heed. He had cheerfully acquiesced in Spain's occupation of New Orleans, and after its retrocession to France he talked pleasantly of securing West Florida through French influence. "Such proof on the part of France of good will toward the United States," he wrote Livingston, in September, 1801, "would contribute to reconcile the latter to France's possession of New Orleans." But when, a year later, a French army, commanded by Leclerc, Napoleon's brother-in-law, had devastated St. Domingo and aroused the hostility of American merchants and ship-masters by his arbitrary treatment, Jefferson sensed the danger of having Napoleon for a next-door neighbor on the Mississippi. In a moment his tone changed from one of peace to a threat of war. "The cession of Louisianan to France," he declared, in a letter to Livingston, April 16, 1802, "works most sorely on the United States. There is on the globe one single spot, the possessor of which is our natural and habitual enemy. It is New Orleans. France, placing herself in that door, assumes to us the attitude of defiance. The day that France takes possession of New Orleans fixes the sentence which is to restrain her forever within her low-water mark. It seals the union of two nations, who in conjunction can maintain exclusive possession of the ocean. From that moment we must marry ourselves to the British fleet and nation."
In his anxiety the President also instructed Madison, his Secretary of State, to write Pinckney, the American minister at Madrid, to guarantee to Spain, if it had not already parted with its title, peaceable possession of Louisiana beyond the Mississippi, on condition of its ceding to the United States the territory, including New Orleans, on the east side. As the year wore on, however, and Leclerc's death followed his report of his losses, Jefferson became much easier, advising Livingston that French possession of Louisiana would not be "important enough to risk a breach of the peace." But before the ink had time to dry, almost simultaneously with the death of Leclerc, came the news, through Governor Claiborne of the Territory of Mississippi, that the Spanish Intendent had forbidden Americans the right to deposit their merchandise at New Orleans. This was a stunning blow to the President. The treaty of 1795 stipulated that the King of Spain would "permit the citizens of the United States, for the space of three years from this time, to deposit their merchandise and effects in the Port of New Orleans, and to export them from thence, without paying any other duty than a fair price for the hire of the stores, and his majesty promises either to continue this permission if he find during that time it is not prejudicial to the interests of Spain, or, if he should not agree to continue it thus, he will assign to them on another part of the banks of the Mississippi an equivalent establishment." That the three years' limitation had expired during President Adams' administration without the right being extended or its equivalent established, did not help Jefferson out of his difficulty, since the Kentucky and Tennessee settlers were already cleaning their flintlocks on the theory that it was easier to drive out a few Spaniards than to dislodge a French army after it had fortified. This was good reasoning if Louisiana was to be taken by force. But Jefferson, even when writing threatening letters, had no thought of war. "Peace is our passion," he wrote Sir John Sinclair, and in the presence of threatening hostilities he did nothing to prepare for war. His message to Congress, which opened a few days after the reception of Claiborne's dispatch, made no mention of the New Orleans trouble. He talked about everything else, but of what everybody else was talking about the President said nothing. The western settlers, vitally interested in a depot of deposit at New Orleans, resented such apparent apathy, and by resolutions and legislative action encouraged the federalists to talk so loudly for war that the President, alarmed at the condition of the public mind, sent James Monroe's name to the Senate as minister extraordinary to France and Spain. On January 13, 1803, the day of Monroe's confirmation, Jefferson hastened to write him, explaining what he had done and why he had acted. "The agitation of the public mind on occasion of the late suspension of our right of deposit at New Orleans," said he, "is extreme. In the western country it is natural and grounded on honest motives; in the seaports it proceeds from a desire for war, which increases the mercantile lottery; among federalists generally, and especially those of Congress, the object is to force us into war if possible, in order to derange our finances; or, if this cannot be done, to attach the western country to them as to their best friends, and thus get again into power. Remonstrances, memorials, etc., are now circulating through the whole of the western country, and signed by the body of the people. The measures we have been pursuing, being invisible, do not satisfy their minds. Something sensible, therefore, is necessary."
This "sensible something" was Monroe's appointment, which "has already silenced the federalists," continued the President. "Congress will no longer be agitated by them; and the country will become calm as fast as the information extends over it."
The better to support Monroe, Madison explained to Pichon, the French minister in Washington, the necessity for the undivided possession of New Orleans, claiming that it had no sort of interest for France, while the United States had no interest in extending its population to the right bank, since such emigration would tend to weaken the state and to slacken the concentration of its forces. "In spite of affinities in manners and languages," said the Secretary of State, "no colony beyond the river could exist under the same government, but would infallibly give birth to a separate state, having in its bosom germs of collision with the east, the easier to develop in proportion to the very affinities between the two empires."
This explained the true attitude of Jefferson and Madison. They did not seek territory west of the Mississippi. Their thought centered in the purchase of New Orleans; it was the "one spot on the globe, the possessor of which is our natural and habitual enemy;" France's possession of it "must marry us to the British fleet and nation;" upon it "every eye in the United States is now fixed;" to gain it Pinckney was charged "to guarantee to Spain the peaceable possession of the territory beyond the Mississippi;" in Madison's opinion "the boundary line between the United States and Louisiana should be the Mississippi;" according to his theory "no colony beyond the Mississippi could exist under the same government with that on the east side;" nor did the United States have any interest in building up a colony beyond the Mississippi. In other words, Jefferson saw only New Orleans; he wanted only New Orleans and peace; and to get the one and keep the other, Monroe was sent to Paris to secure "our rights and interests in the river Mississippi and in the territories eastward thereof."
In the meantime Livingston had taken a different view. It is not clear that he appreciated the future value of the great northwest more than did Jefferson or Madison, but in his argument for the purchase of New Orleans he had included in his request nine-tenths of the territory now known as the Louisiana Purchase. Singularly enough Livingston's letter happened to be addressed to Talleyrand, Napoleon's Minister of Foreign Affairs, on the very day Monroe's name went to the United States Senate for confirmation, and although the latter's instructions limited negotiations to the east bank of the Mississippi, Livingston's argument included the west bank. "Presuming," he writes Talleyrand, "that the Floridas are in the hands of France, I shall predicate what I have to offer upon that presumption. France can have but three objects in the possession of Louisiana and Florida: The first is the command of the Gulf; second, the supply of her islands; third, an outlet for the people, if her European population should be too great for her territory."
"Having treated this subject more at large in a paper which you have had the goodness to read," Livingston continued, "I will not dwell upon it here; but propose what it appears to be the true, policy of France to adopt, as affecting all her objects, and at the same time conciliating the affections of the United States, giving a permanency to her establishments, which she can in no other way hope for. First, let France cede to the United States so much of Louisiana as lays above the mouth of the river Arkansas. By this a barrier will be placed between the colony of France and Canada, from which she may, otherwise, be attacked with the greatest facility, and driven out before she can derive any aid from Europe. Let her possess Florida as far as the river Perdito, with all the ports on the gulf, and cede West Florida, New Orleans, and the territory on the west bank of the Mississippi to the United States. This cession will only be valuable to the latter from its giving them the mouths of the river Mobile and other small rivers which penetrate their territory, and in calming their apprehensions relative to the Mississippi. It may be supposed that New Orleans is a place of some moment; it will be so to the United States, but not to France. The right of depot which the United States claims and will never relinquish, must be the source of continued disputes and animosities between the two nations, and ultimately lead the United States to aid any foreign power in the expulsion of France from that colony. Independent of this, as the present commercial capital of New Orleans is mostly American, it will be instantly removed to Natchez, to which the United States can give such advantages as to render New Orleans of little importance. Upon any other plan. Sir, it needs but little foresight to predict that the whole of this establishment must pass into the hands of Great Britain, which has, at the same time, the command of the sea, and a martial colony containing every means of attack. While the fleets block up the seaports, she can, without the smallest difficulty, attack New Orleans from Canada with 15,000 or 20,000 men and a host of savages. France, by grasping at a desert and an insignificant town, and thereby throwing the weight of the United States into the scale of Britain, will render her mistress of the new world. By the possession of Louisiana and Trinidad the colonies of Spain will lie at her mercy. By expelling France from Florida and possessing the ports on the Gulf, she will command the Islands. The East and West Indies will pour their commodities into her ports; and the precious metals of Mexico, combined with the treasures of Hindostan, enable her to purchase nations whose aid she may require in confirming her power. Though it would comport with the true policy and magnanimity of France gratuitously to offer these terms to the United States, yet they are not unwilling to purchase them at a price suited to their value and to their own circumstances, in the hope that France will at the same time satisfy their distressed citizens the debts which they have a right by so many titles to demand."
These arguments do not read like the letters of Jefferson or the instructions of Madison. There is no suggestion that the United States is without interest in the right bank of the Mississippi for fear of a divided government, or because germs of collision will develop in spite of affinities in manners and language. New Orleans is minimized, the great west is magnified. A glance at the map shows that he offered to purchase half an empire, leaving to France only a small corner in the southwest bordering on Texas. His argument fixed its limitation. "First, let France cede to the United States so much of Louisiana as lay above the mouth of the river Arkansas, West Florida, New Orleans, and the territory on the west bank of the Mississippi." Talleyrand thought the rest would be of little value. "I will give you a certificate," he said, in the course of the discussion, "that you are the most importunate negotiator I have yet met with." For this and his aid to Robert Fulton, Edward Everett Hale called Livingston "the wisest American of his time."
Napoleon received Livingston's argument three days after he heard of Leclerc's death. To a soldier who had entered Italy over the Alps, the suggestion of an attack from Canada would strongly appeal; with Nelson on the ocean, he could understand the helplessness of a French army in New Orleans; and after the failure of Leclerc in St. Domingo, the presence of yellow fever and other obstacles to success in Louisiana would not seem improbable. Such a discussion at such a time, therefore, was certain to have the most profound influence, and from January 10 to April 10, 1803, Livingston kept his reasons constantly before the First Consul and his ministers as the only policy to conserve the true interest of France, to impair the strength of England, and to win the affection of the United States.
"I have never yet had any specific instructions from you how to act or what to offer," he wrote Madison on February 18, 1803, eighteen days before Monroe left the United States; "but I have put into Napoleon's hands some notes containing plain truths mixed with that species of personal attention which I know to be most pleasing. The only basis on which I think it possible to do anything here is to connect our claims with offers to purchase the Floridas. Upon this subject my notes turn. I have first endeavored to show how little advantage France is likely to make from these colonies; the temptation they offer to Britain to attack them by sea and from Canada; the effect a conquest of them by Britain would have on the islands; and the monopoly which that conquest would give to a rival power to the trade of the West as well as of the East Indies. I have dwelt upon the importance of a friendly intercourse between them and us, both as it respects their commerce and the security of their islands; and I have proposed to them the relinquishment of New Orleans and West Florida as far as the River Perdito, together with all the territory lying to the north of the Arkansas, under an idea that it was necessary to interpose us between them and Canada, as the only means of preventing an attack from that quarter. For this I proposed an indefinite sum, not wishing to mention any till I should receive your instructions. These propositions with certain accompaniments were well received, and were some days under the First Consul's consideration. I am now lying on my oars in hopes of something explicit from you. I consider the object of immense importance; and this perhaps the favorable moment to press it."
While Livingston's letter was being read in Washington, conveying to Jefferson the first suggestion of a purchase other than that of New Orleans, the First Consul was making up his mind to accede to Livingston's request. When the decision did come, it came with Napoleonic suddenness. For three months he had considered it; but not until Sunday, April 10, did he make known his intention; then, in a moment, without warning, he let his desire be known to Talleyrand and Marbois. "I can scarcely say that I cede it," said Napoleon, "for it is not yet in our possession. If, however, I leave the least time to our enemies, I shall only transmit an empty title." Marbois agreed, Talleyrand dissented, and the trio parted; but at daybreak, on Monday, Napoleon sent for Marbois, declaring that "irresolution and deliberation are no longer in season; I renounce Louisiana. It is not only New Orleans that I cede; it is the whole colony, without reserve. I know the price of what I abandon. I renounce it with the greatest regret; to attempt obstinately to retain it would be folly. I direct you to regulate the affairs. Have an interview this very day with Mr. Livingston."
Whatever occurred after this belongs simply to the making of a bargain. The mind of Napoleon had acted. It is not easy, perhaps, to differentiate the influences that led to such action, but it is not difficult to measure them. In writing the Minister of Marine, Talleyrand explained that "the empire of circumstances, foresight of the future, and the intention to compensate by an advantageous arrangement for the inevitable loss of a country which was going to be put at the mercy of another nation—all these motives have determined the Government to pass to the United States the right it had acquired from Spain over the sovereignty and property of Louisiana." In brief, Napoleon's sale of Louisiana, as explained by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, disposed of a country which he would inevitably lose whenever war occurred with England. This was the argument Livingston had been urging for three months, with evident effect. Had he been less earnest or dramatic, Napoleon's purpose might not then have exploded into an order to sell. The American Minister knew he was dealing with a man guided by such an implacable hatred of England, that when he was not fighting her openly, he was plotting against her secretly; that his one purpose, his one hope, his great ambition, was her conquest. In his argument, therefore, Livingston dangled before him a picture to feed his hatred—a picture of Trinidad and Louisiana forming a base from which England might drive Spain from Florida, command the islands of the Gulf, and receive into its ports the riches of the West Indies and the treasures of Mexico. Thus, Livingston's presence becomes a great factor in the sale. It took six months to communicate with the United States, but only six days to do business with the man who was pressing the sale upon him. If more time had elapsed, the sudden decision might have been changed with equal suddenness, for Napoleon, aside from his inconstancy, had cause to shrink from his intended action. It meant the violation of a sacred pledge to Spain, the death of Talleyrand's pet colonial policy, the certain disgust, sooner or later, of the French people, and a hot quarrel with Lucien and Joseph Bonaparte, his brothers.
In the negotiations that followed Livingston ventured to offer twenty million francs, and Marbois finally suggested sixty millions, with payment of the American claim to the amount of twenty millions more. Thus ended the historic midnight conference during which the bargain was practically made. "It is so very important," wrote Livingston, "that you should be apprised that a negotiation is actually opened, even before Mr. Monroe is presented, in order to calm the tumult which the news of war will renew, that I have lost no time in communicating it. We shall do all we can to cheapen the purchase, but my present sentiment is that we shall buy."
Considering the extent of the purchase and the danger of delay, Livingston would have been justified in closing the bargain then and there. Had he known the action of Lucien Bonaparte, who had secured the cession from Spain, and of Joseph's insincerity, upon whom he even depended to help along the negotiation, he might well have taken counsel of his fears; but the great real estate dealer enjoyed driving a good bargain, and so he argued and held aloof, professing that the United States "had no disposition to extend across the river;" that they "would be perfectly satisfied with New Orleans and the Floridas;" that they "could not give any great sum for the purchase;" that "it was vain to ask anything so greatly beyond our means;" that "true policy would dictate to the First Consul not to press such a demand," since "he must know the payment of such a sum would render the present government unpopular." He minimized the importance of the deal, describing West Florida as "barren sands and sunken marshes," and New Orleans as "a small town built of wood, of about seven thousand souls," a territory "only valuable to the United States because it contained the mouths of some of their rivers," going so far as to venture a prophecy that "an emigrant would not cross the Mississippi in a hundred years;" yet, throughout weeks of dickering, he never surrendered his purpose to buy whether the price be cheapened or not.
His anxiety was greatly increased by the disclosure of Monroe's commission, since it contained power only to treat for lands on the east side of the Mississippi. "It may, if things should take a turn favorable to France," he wrote Madison, April 17, "defeat all we may do, even at the moment of signing. . . . You will recollect that I have been long preparing this government to yield us the country above the Arkansas, . . . and I am therefore surprised that our commission should have entirely lost sight of the object."
Livingston's fears proved groundless, and the dickering went on until April 29, when Marbois' original figures were accepted sixty million francs to France, and twenty million francs to American claimants; in all, fifteen million dollars. Three days later, on May 2, 1803, the treaty was signed.
It is not surprising that Livingston felt proud and happy. Other treaties of consequence had been negotiated by Americans—the treaty of alliance with France, the treaty of peace with England, and Jay's treaty of 1795; but none was more important than Livingston's. Besides, it was unparalleled in the field of diplomacy, since Louisiana cost, comparatively, almost nothing.
Perhaps Livingston's pride was only equaled by Jefferson's surprise. A mother is usually prepared for the coming of the baby that is to enlarge and illuminate her home. Its clothes are ready, the nursery is furnished, and everything is waiting its advent; but President Jefferson was unprepared for the Louisiana Purchase. It was so entirely unsought on his part that he had given the subject no consideration until half an empire came tumbling upon him like a great meteor out of the midnight sky. At first, he thought he would cede a part of it to the Indians in exchange for their holdings on the east side of the Mississippi, and "shut up all the rest from settlement for a long time to come." "I have indulged myself in these details," he writes James Dickinson, August 9, 1803, "because the subject being new it is advantageous to interchange ideas on it and to get our notions all corrected before we are obliged to act upon them." Then he raised the question of a constitutional amendment. "I suppose Congress must appeal to the nation for an additional article to the constitution approving and confirming an act which the nation had not previously authorized," he wrote Senator Breckenridge of Kentucky. "The constitution has made no provision for our holding foreign territory, still less for incorporating foreign nations into our Union. The Executive in seizing the fugitive occurrence which so much advances the good of their country have done an act beyond the constitution."
When such views reached France, Livingston hurried off several letters to Jefferson, assuring him "that were the business to do over again it would never be done. They think we have obtained an immense advantage over them. Though the appearance of war had some influence, it had much less than is ascribed to it. I know from a faithful source that the Spanish government has made the most serious remonstrances against the cession of Louisiana, and that it is now well understood that, if any additional clause of ratification should be introduced by the United States, this government would profit of the circumstance to annul the whole work."
Jefferson did not need a further hint. "I wrote you on the 12th inst. on the subject of Louisiana and the constitutional provision which might be necessary for it," he says to Senator Breckenridge. "A letter just received yesterday shows that nothing must be said on that subject which may give a pretext for retreating, but that we should do sub silentio what shall be found necessary. Be so good, therefore, as to consider that part of my letter confidential. It strengthens the reason for desiring the presence of every friend of the treaty on the first day of the session. Perhaps you can impress this necessity on the Senators from the western States by private letter."
President Jefferson was a strict constructionist. He did not believe the constitution gave Congress power to acquire additional territory; he dreaded the concentration of power in the executive, and perhaps his teachings did more than all other men to inspire the popular mind with that dread; but when he discovered that the time required to secure a constitutional amendment, exciting, as it would, a long debate in Congress, might defeat the Louisiana Purchase by arousing French feeling against its sale, he did not hesitate to bury his constitutional convictions, and to force through Congress the necessary ratification. Nor did he ever attempt any defense of his inconsistency save that the welfare of the nation demanded such action. Thomas Jefferson was not afraid of being inconsistent. To a great soul this is not weakness. There are ages that are creative. At such times two classes of men are prominent and needed—one shackled to traditions, the other guided by visions. Thomas Jefferson belonged to the latter. In 1776 the American people not only broke the bonds binding them to old England, but forged other bonds which would bind them to a new political, social and industrial order, and of those who hammered these new ties into harmony with the longing and aspirations of men, Thomas Jefferson stands among the foremost Fathers. He got his light from within. He believed in the people, in the government which they had accepted, and with Gladstonian enthusiasm he sought to lead the one and mould the other along lines of stability; but when theory and idealism ran counter to practice and experience, he did not hesitate to adopt the practical and let theory wait. This is the secret of his action in 1803. To cling to an abstract principle would lose an appreciable blessing to his country, and so he let go the abstract principle. This is the inconsistency of a great statesman, the contradictoriness of genius.
But commendable as was the part of Thomas Jefferson in that great transaction, it must not conceal the truth of history. He was not even the promoter, much less the author of the Purchase. His mind was intent upon a present need, a single spot, instant relief, made necessary by the fierce demand of a frontier people claiming a depot of deposit. It was Robert R. Livingston who had the vision.
The distinguished Chancellor, however, did not prove as careful and painstaking a lawyer as he was bold and successful as a diplomatist, for in drawing the claims convention, he neglected to include all claims, estimated their total much too low, omitted a rule of apportionment, and, most grievous of all, left the final decision as to what claims should be selected for payment to the French government. This was the rock that wrecked him. The legitimate claims of American citizens amounted to many millions, but Livingston fixed the limit at three and three-quarters millions, and compelled claimants to secure settlement through the corrupt Talleyrand and his rascally agents, who took one-half for their services. Livingston thought he had drafted the convention "with particular attention," and Monroe, who thought differently, tried his hand with no better success; then Marbois turned it to the advantage of the Frenchmen. The Americans needed a careful lawyer.
The scandal growing out of this convention deepened and cankered until Livingston quarreled with the American Claims Commissioners, excited remonstrances from the British government, and nagged the United States consul at Paris into charging him not only with blind and insatiable vanity, with hints of corrupt and criminal motives, but with "imbecility of mind."
"I considered the claims convention as a trifle compared with the other great object," he explained to Madison, "and as it had already delayed us many days, I was ready to take it under any form." He was clearly right in the comparative importance of the treaty and the convention, but after Marbois had reserved to the French government the right of final decision in each case, Livingston was inexcusable in omitting a rule of apportionment, since it excluded all claimants except the favored few whom the corrupt Frenchman selected because of their willingness to divide.
But the poisoned arrow that entered deepest into Livingston's soul was the robbery of his laurels. His successful negotiation of the treaty, putting him into the class from which Presidents were then drawn, won him the dislike of Jefferson, the distrust of Madison, and the jealousy of Monroe, who, considering him a rival, carefully concealed whatever would reflect credit upon him. His dispatches to Madison became a sealed book in the Department of State; his letters to Jefferson were not suffered to shadow the President's halo; his work, practically completed before Monroe's arrival in Paris, did not reach the eye or the ear of the American people. The great achievement filled the air, rejoicing the country as no other event since the treaty of peace with England, but little praise came to Livingston. The public gave Monroe credit for the treaty, and Livingston discredit for the claims convention. When, finally, Monroe admitted that his part in the negotiation amounted to nothing, he also encouraged the belief that Livingston did as little. It is impossible to say, of course, just what influenced Napoleon to give Marbois the order of April 11. It was not war, for war did not come until a year later; it was not money, for the Prince of Peace would have given more; it was not anger at Spain, for no real cause then existed; it was not fear of England, for Bonaparte did not fear an enemy he expected to crush; it was not St. Domingo, for Leclerc's failure already belonged to the past, with Corsica and Egypt. Perhaps Napoleon himself could not have given the real reason. But, however this may be, the fact is deeply embedded in history that Livingston was the first American to suggest the acquisition of that then vast and dimly outlined country which has been known for over a hundred years as the Louisiana Purchase—stretching west and northwest of the Mississippi, above the winding Arkansas, beyond the waters of the Missouri, across plains and flower-covered prairies to the far-away Rockies, where the Yellowstone leaps from its hiding, and snow-clad summits pierce a summer's sky.
THE BIRTH AT MOREAU OF THE
TEMPERANCE REFORMATION.
By Dr. Charles A. Ingraham.
History concerns itself chiefly with the fiats of kings, the councils of cabinets, the enactments of legislatures, the processes and results of diplomacy and the issues of war. Upon the pages of the world's annals appears the magnificent pageantry of the past, as with silken banners and silver trumpets dominion proudly passes in perpetual review. Thus, as the historian animates his chapters with those dramatic, intellectual and heroic elements which abound in the court, the statehouse and upon the field of battle, the high spirit of chivalry is encouraged and an intelligent patriotism is promoted. But how fares it with that company of men and women who, frequently in obscure places and by unpretentious methods, have in the realms of discovery, invention and ethics, also advanced the prosperity and happiness of society? It must be admitted that they are too often neglected and that the fruitful lessons which their lives have to communicate remain too generally unappropriated. This paper, diverging somewhat from the beaten highway of history, has for its purpose, to rescue from threatened oblivion the memory of a noble man and the record of his monumental work.
A few months since, while attending a convention held in one of the churches of Easton, the discussion having turned to the subject of temperance, I remarked that it might be proper to state that we were congregated not far from the place where the world's first temperance society had its birth. I was afterward surprised and gratified to learn that in that very neighborhood Dr. Clark, its founder, had dwelt when a young man engaged in the study of medicine. Not being of a superstitious turn, I have dismissed from my mind the notion that his shade was at my elbow prompting me to introduce him to the audience. My interest having been revived, I consulted the leading reference books with the result of discovering that, while they all were in substantial agreement as to Dr. Clark having established the initial temperance association at Moreau in 1808, there were no biographical accounts of him, nor details concerning the history of the organization. This, for so great an event and institution, struck me as being a very remarkable omission. My curiosity to learn more was now stronger than ever, and the centennial anniversary of the formation of the association being near, I resolved to unearth, if possible, the full history of the society and the life of its founder. Being utterly in the dark as to any authority upon the subject, I made known my desire for information through the medium of newspapers circulating in the historic townships, and with gratifying results.
My principal materials have been these: "The History of the Temperance Reformation," 1853, by Rev. Lebbeus Armstrong, a member of the society and intimately associated with Dr. Clark in the establishment of the same; "A History of Temperance in Saratoga County," 1855, by Judge William Hay; and an obituary by the late Dr. A. W. Holden, of Glens Falls, which appeared in the Messenger of that place in 1866. The last is an admirable elucidation of the life and character, to the closing day, of the great champion of temperance. The two physicians had been fellow townsmen, and evidently friends, if we may judge by the sympathetically appreciative manner with which Dr. Holden writes. Of the 408 pages of Armstrong's and of the 153 pages of Hay's book, but comparatively few are devoted to Dr. Clark and his work. The authors boast of him and his achievement, but, living yet in the dim light of his day, they were evidently unable to perceive fully the grandeur of the moral movement which he had inaugurated. Hence, their works are taken up mainly with discussions of the Maine liquor law, which then agitated much of the country. Armstrong's and Hay's books have become very rare, but copies of both may be found in the New York State library.
Among every people, in every age, intemperance has been recognized as an evil, and from ancient times a variety of means have been adopted to prevent or diminish its desolating influences. Royal decrees have gone forth commanding the rooting up of vineyards, and parliaments have legislated against it. The code of Draco even went so far as to visit the penalty of death upon the drunkard. The milder methods of moral suasion have, since the earliest recorded days, been with loving constancy declaimed in the ears of the people, but so imperative is the demand for strong drink that the cup continues in spite of all hindrances to hold dominion over multitudes of men.
But beyond all other peoples of the world in love of intoxicating beverages stand the Teutonic races, among whom it is said distilled liquors were first substituted for fermented drinks. The classic pages of Tacitus tell us of the unbridled license which the northern tribes of Europe gave to their appetites and of the scenes of drunken riot which characterized their social events. The chase, the battle and the feast were their delights, and when done with life, their ambition was to reside in the immortal hall of Valhalla. There, each day having fought before the palace, and with every trace of their wounds duly obliterated, they hoped to sit down daily to regale themselves with mead and meat. The convivial propensities of the Teuton have been inherited by the Anglo-Saxon race, and it cannot be denied that the English speaking people are among the heaviest drinking populations of the earth. Yet, the Germanic family of nations has done more for the advancement of civilization than perhaps any other race in history. It has emancipated and exalted woman, and hallowed the home, and fostered patriotism and religion. It has produced the greatest scholars, the most brilliant scientists and the profoundest philosophers. But among nations as among individuals, it is against the intellectually highly organized that the genius of alcohol particularly directs its malevolent arts.
The latter half of the 18th century saw England almost overwhelmed with drunkenness and its associated vices. In a sermon entitled, "On Dissipation," by John Wesley, published in 1788, he opens his discourse with this statement:
"Almost in every part of our nation, more especially in the large and populous towns, we hear a general complaint among sensible persons of the still increasing dissipation. It is observed to diffuse itself more and more in the court, the city and the country."
During the close of the same period this country was given over body and soul to the alluring power of inebriation. Intemperance was the rule rather than the exception, as it has become in our day. Occasions of birth, marriage and death were alike considered appropriate to the free indulgence in liquor, and all classes participated in the drinking, even clergymen joining in the convivialities with little or no forfeiture of dignity.
Social distempers, like those of the body, are accompanied by the agency of restoration. The sick man, debilitated and suffering from the violence of his symptoms, seeks his bed and calls his physician, thus placing himself in the most favorable attitude for recovery. Were it not for the realization of his distress, he might, in default of rest and medicine, hurry himself into the grave. So, within some of the more morally sensitive souls of the country, commenced to be experienced an unhappy sense of our degradation and depth of misery. Cries of warning and expostulation began to be heard in the land. One of these rose higher than the others, even echoing down through the years to our own time. It was that of Dr. Benjamin Rush, of Philadelphia. Standing in relation to Dr. Clark as of a voice crying in the wilderness, his work in the field of temperance merits more than a casual remark. It consists of but a small, thirty-two page pamphlet, but condensed in its limited proportions is a world of moral dynamite.
It bears the title: "An Inquiry Into the Effects of Ardent Spirits Upon the Human Body and Mind, With an Account of the Means of Preventing and of the Remedies for Curing Them," and was published in 1785. So great had been the salutary influence of this little treatise, that the centennial anniversary of its issue was duly celebrated at Philadelphia. It is not a profound essay; indeed, the wayfaring man, though a fool, may easily grasp its lucid ideas. Neither is it calculated to be very offensive to any class of readers, for it takes issue only with distilled liquors, recommending fermented beverages as substitutes. Moreover, the confirmed toper can read the pamphlet, not only without umbrage, but with interest; for there is an intensity, a directness of statement in its style which hold the reader, even to this day, with the simple art of its literary merit. Besides, there appears running through its pages a quaint humor, which no doubt had much to do with gaining its popularity throughout the length and breadth of the land.
A unique and ingenious feature of the essay is the author's "Moral and Physical Thermometer," which forms its frontispiece. On the ascending scale, "Strong Beer" is placed in the lowest and "Water" at the highest degree, with remarks indicating improving mental and physical conditions in the rising course. On the descending scale, "Punch" occupies the highest while "Rum day and night" is found at the lowest place, accompanied between points by a fearfully intensifying array of vices, diseases and penalties.
In this connection might be quoted the author's interpretation of a familiar myth:
"The fable of Prometheus, on whose liver a vulture was said to prey constantly, as a punishment for his stealing fire from heaven, was intended to illustrate the painful effects of ardent spirits upon that organ of the body."
Here is a curious anticipation of the modern gold cure, as it took form in the fertile intellect of Dr. Rush:
"The association of the idea of ardent spirits, with a painful or disagreeable impression upon some part of the body, has sometimes cured the love of strong drink. . . . This appeal to that operation of the human mind, which obliges it to associate ideas, accidentally or otherwise combined, for the cure of vice, is very ancient. It was resorted to by Moses when he compelled the Children of Israel to drink the solution of the golden calf (which they had idolized) in water. This solution if made, as it most probably was, by means of what is called hepar sulphuris, was extremely bitter, and nauseous, and could never be recollected afterwards, without bringing into equal detestation, the sin which subjected them to the necessity of drinking it."
In this pamphlet was sounded the first effective call for a combined movement against the evil of intemperance—a trumpet call which reverberated in the soul of Dr. Clark until, nobly responding, he stood forth alone before the world, having inscribed upon his banner the word, Organization. For Dr. Rush had said:
"Let good men of every class unite and besiege the general and state governments, with petitions to limit the number of taverns, to impose heavy duties upon ardent spirits, to inflict a mark of disgrace, or a temporary abridgment of some civil right upon every man convicted of drunkenness. . . . To aid the operation of these laws, would it not be extremely useful for the rulers of the different denominations of Christian churches to unite and render the sale and consumption of ardent spirits a subject of ecclesiastical jurisdiction?"
Such are a few of the characteristic portions of Dr. Rush's famous essay, a work which revived, not only the moral sense of this country, but also of England, where it was republished in the following year. But the giant of intemperance exhibited no signs of weakness, though he had been undoubtedly pierced in a vital part. The weapon of Dr. Rush had been slim, but keen—a highly tempered rapier, more effective than in after years was the broad sword of Lyman Beecher's "Sermons on Temperance." With an amiable exterior, the skillful reforming fencer had managed to keep his antagonist off his guard while he transfixed and permanently crippled him. But another mode of attack was necessary in order to bring him under control. To indulge yet further in figurative speech: Dr. Rush had manufactured the ammunition but who was to fire the gun?
It is always a pleasure to visit the homes of eminent persons who long since have died. To look upon the scenes that they once beheld; to walk in the paths that they once trod, is like coming into familiar intercourse with the intimate friend of the honored dead, and we go from the places hallowed by such associations with a sense of having gained almost a personal acquaintance with the great who there have had a habitation. The native town of Dr. Billy James Clark was beautiful old Northampton, in Massachusetts. Primitively Nonotuck of the Indians, it was venerable even on his birthday, January 4, 1778, and then, as now, it was foremost in culture and intelligence. Here, Jonathan Edwards had lived and labored, leaving upon the town an ineradicable impress of his saintly character and heavenly doctrines. Here, David Brainerd the zealous missionary to the Indians, broken in health, had died under the roof of Edwards, who had extended to him the loving hand of hospitality. It was eminently fitting that a life destined to exercise so profoundly beneficial an influence in promoting the higher estate of the race should have its beginning in a town so distinguished for its enlightenment and piety.
Ithamar Clark, when his little son Billy was about six years old, left Northampton and took up his residence in Williamstown, Massachusetts, where also was the home of Mrs. Clark's father. For a period of four years the boy attended the school which afterwards developed into Williams College, at the end of which time the family changed its home to Pownal, Vermont. Of the details of the domestic life of the Clarks, we have no record. Nothing is known of the wife of Ithamar Clark, except that her maiden name was Sarah Simonds, and that she was a daughter of Benjamin Simonds, who had been a colonel in the Continental army, serving in the campaign against Burgoyne. It is probable that the moral and religious leanings of Dr. Clark were inherited from or instilled by his mother. His father seems not to have been much interested in the ideas that his son did so much to advance. Previous to his settling at Pownal, he had followed agriculture and shoe-making, but now, in the capacity of tavern-keeper, he began selling liquor.
In Dr. Holden's article it is stated that the tavern was located upon a farm that Mr. Clark had purchased, one and a half miles from Pownal on the Bennington road.
Young Billy Clark, standing behind his father's bar and dealing out intoxicating drinks, was in a position to observe thoroughly the pernicious effects of dallying with alcohol. His daily occupation was an open book, as thrilling as lurid chapters of fiction, and the letters of it remained upon his soul in characters of unquenchable fire. Abraham Lincoln, when a young man, having gone down the Mississippi as a flat-boatman, visited the slave market of New Orleans. He was deeply affected by the harrowing scenes he there beheld, and he registered a vow that should ever the opportunity present itself, he would strike with all his power the institution that encouraged such iniquities. Thus was planted the germ that budded, blossomed and bore fruit in the Proclamation of Emancipation. No doubt it was the memory of his father's bar-room, with the evils radiating from it, that urged forward Dr. Clark to the culmination of his great destiny.
Some writers give the name of Dr. Clark as William J. or W. J. Clark, but he himself signed it, B. J. Clark, while the best authorities refer to him as Dr. Billy J. Clark. It is probable that Dr. Clark, becoming widely known by the more familiar title, found it convenient to substitute the same for William.
When about fifteen years of age, his father having died, young Clark returned to Northampton to attend school there for a term of one year. This experience was probably of great benefit to the youth, not only in improving his education, but by introducing him to one of the most refined and intelligent communities in New England. The inspiration of the life of Edwards was dominant in the society of the old town, and his books were still treasured and read. It is interesting to reflect that the living spirit of the great divine may have been a quickening influence in the heart of this thoughtful youth; that the story of the heroic life of Brainerd may have appealed to his religious and enterprising nature; that the memory of one or both of these devoted men may have contributed to the molding of his mind into the worthy fashion in which it subsequently displayed itself to the world. Be this as it may, not long after his return to the farm, he abandoned the bar and began the study of medicine under Dr. Caleb Gibbs, of Pownal. Still making his home at the farm, he pursued his studies for the space of two years, remunerating his preceptor by assuming the care of his horses. We find him at the end of that period, in 1797, entering as a student the office of Dr. Lemuel Wicker, of Easton, Washington County, N. Y., with whom he remained until March 21, 1799, when he began the practice of medicine in the town of Moreau. He opened his office not far from what afterwards became known as Clark's Corners. This historic neighborhood is situated about three miles in a westerly direction from Fort Edward, and five miles south of Glens Falls. Here, having married Joanna Payn, of Fort Miller, and purchased a farm, he made his permanent residence. The rise of Dr. Clark had been phenomenal; from a bartender to the dignity of a profession, and all in the space of four or five years! Dr. Clark was but twenty-one when he came to Moreau. Having previously satisfied the preliminary requirements, he was advanced to the full privileges of a physician in a license granted by the judge of the court of common pleas for Washington County, in the month of June following his settlement in Saratoga County.
From his home in Moreau, Dr. Clark for thirty-four years went up and down the long stretches of his rides, ministering faithfully to the sick. The region was in a primitive condition, with poor roads, and was but thinly inhabited. Exhausting to body and mind, as must necessarily have been his labors, he yet had a disposition to employ himself in the sphere of agriculture and to inform himself upon the political issues of the day. In 1820 he represented his county as Member of Assembly. Through his daily visits to the sick, Dr. Clark was afforded exceptional advantages for observing and studying the effects upon the people of the prevailing intemperance, which had taken a particularly strong grasp upon the population among which he had come to dwell.
Armstrong seems to attribute the heavy drinking in Moreau to the leading industry, stating that "all the towns and counties in the vicinity of the ever-rolling Hudson were teeming with lumber."
Whatever may have been the predisposing cause of the general and excessive use of intoxicants in England, it is not difficult to point out the conditions which contributed to the growth of the same practice in this country. The lives of the people were laborious, monotonous, and unmitigated by those social relaxations which in modern times so greatly lighten the burdens and alleviate the sorrows of life. Books and periodicals were not plentiful, and the character of the prevailing literature was not such as to invite the attention of the average reader. Transportation being by horsepower along the country roads, public houses, each with its bar, were encountered at every turn, while the little stores to be found at the cross-roads, also dispensed liquor to all comers. Add to this the fact that the materials from which intoxicating beverages are manufactured were abundantly grown within our borders, and near to our shores, and it will be appreciated how naturally the people fell into intemperate habits.
For a period of nine years, while Dr. Clark, in all extremities of weather, rode on horseback to the bedsides of his widely separated patients, the burden of the drink-evil weighed heavily upon his mind. He was a man of energy; one who was not easily thwarted in the carrying out of his plans. But here was a task that seemed too hard for him. What could one man accomplish in the presence of such indifference and overwhelming opposition?
The mode of action that Dr. Clark finally adopted was that of organization—a working together of the friends of temperance for a common purpose. This now seems like a very natural solution of the problem of finding his best means of procedure; but Dr. Clark was the first man to announce and to give the idea practical demonstration, though it is not probable that he possessed any clearly defined conception of the lines along which it was to operate, nor of the vast proportions which the movement was destined to attain. Like a prophet under the guiding influence of inspiration, scarcely knowing what he did, he was yet availing himself of a fundamental principle of all nature. For, investigate wherever one may, from the vilest atom of earth to the court of high heaven, organization is the law of every upward step. The ancients, dimly apprehending this sublime truth, conceived of the universe as a gigantic animal, a cosmic leviathan, whole, complete and harmonious in all its parts, while philosophy has ever striven, though in vain, to demonstrate by processes of reason what the higher authority of intuition has proclaimed in all generations.
Dr. Rush, by reason of a liberal education, supplemented by medical study in the capitals of Europe, and on account of his high social, professional and literary standing, greatly outshone his coworker, the struggling country doctor on the frontier of Northern New York. But these two greatest factors in the advent of the temperance reformation, and who, it should be said, were acquaintances through the medium of correspondence, each performed his peculiar part, and who can determine which is entitled to the greater honor. Dr. Rush manufactured the ammunition, but Dr. Clark fired the gun, his match being organization.
The idea of forming a temperance society had perhaps been suggested to Dr. Clark by his connection with the Saratoga County Medical Society, the first institution of its kind in this state, and of which he was the founder. He had attempted early in April, 1808, to interest prominent men, whom he had met at Ballston Springs at a session of court, in his projected temperance enterprise. His plan may have been to establish a central society at the county seat and to encourage the organization of branches in the surrounding towns; but, to use Dr. Clark's own words, "they with one accord began to make excuses and brand our scheme as Utopian and visionary." Previous to this, however, he had taken the initiative in the work among his neighbors, for he says: "I returned to Moreau like a bow well bent that had not lost its elasticity, and resumed the labor there." The determination he exhibited was remarkable, and one cannot dwell upon the difficulties with which he contended and meditate upon the unselfish, devoted and humanitarian spirit by which he was actuated without expressing admiration.
The first successful step in the sublime drama of the temperance reformation took place in the same month of April, referred to a moment ago, when Dr. Clark made his memorable visit to his minister. I quote from Armstrong:
"After having projected a plan of a temperance organization, the doctor determined on a visit to his minister, the author of these memoirs, who was then the pastor of the flourishing Congregational church in the town of Moreau. The visit was made on a dark evening, no moon and cloudy. After riding on horseback about three miles, through deep mud of clay road, in the breaking-up of winter, the doctor knocked at his minister's door, and on entrance, before taking seat in the house, he earnestly uttered the following words: 'Mr. Armstrong, I have come to see you on important business.' Then, lifting up both hands, he continued: 'We shall all become a community of drunkards in this town unless something is done to arrest the progress of intemperance.'"
The poet has sung in soul-stirring numbers of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. There are, indeed, certain resemblances between it and Dr. Clark's historic adventure. It was night; there was national peril; heroes were in the saddle, and the voices of their fervent appeals were destined to reverberate down the aisles of time—"words that shall echo forevermore."
Due notice having been given to the people of the towns of Moreau and Northumberland, a meeting for the purpose of forming a temperance society was held at the public house of Captain Peter L. Mawney, at Clark's Corners, on April 13, 1808. Resolutions were adopted, the chief of which was that "in the opinion of this meeting it is proper, practicable and necessary to form a temperance society in this place; and that the great and leading object of this society is wholly to abstain from ardent spirits." A committee, of which Dr. Clark was chairman, was appointed to prepare the Bylaws for the organization, and twenty-three persons enrolled themselves as members.
The following is the list of the signers: Isaac B. Payn, Ichabod Hawley, David Parsons, James Mott, Alvaro Hawley, Thomas Cotton, David Tillotson, Billy J. Clark, Charles Kellogg, Jr., Elnathan Spencer, Asaph Putnam, Hawley St. John, Nicholas W. Angle, Dan Kellogg, Ephraim Ross, John M. Berry, John T. Sealy, Cyrus Wood, James Rogers, Henry Martin, Sidney Berry, Joseph Sill, Solomon St. John.
The meeting having adjourned one week, to April 20, at the Mawney house, a long and comprehensive system of By-laws was then adopted. Article I stated that "This society shall be known by the appellation of Union Temperance Society of Moreau and Northumberland." Like Dr. Rush's essay, the Constitution of the society took grounds only against spirituous liquors, making exceptions regarding the use of them in circumstances of religious ordinances, sickness and public dinners.
It was not until 1843 that the society "after a long season of declension," on a motion put by Dr. Clark, adopted a resolution of total abstinence.
Col. Sidney Berry, ex-judge of Saratoga county, was chosen president and Dr. Clark secretary of the new society. As there exists an apparent contradiction as to the particular roof under which this historic meeting was held, one account stating that it occurred at the Mawney house and another at the neighboring school house, it is proper to say here that this discrepancy is removed by the statement made in Judge Hay's book, page 22, that the session opened in the Mawney house, but that "the society completed its organization" in the school house. In the association, as a coherent institution, coming into existence within the walls of such a building, may be found a prophecy of what the temperance movement in the future was to lay particular stress upon—that is, upon temperance teaching in the public schools. Indeed, it should be said that the Moreau society itself was an educative organization as well as a moral one, having a circulating library and maintaining a lyceum.
But, although it had at its head intelligent, high-minded and enterprising men, its career was hard and discouraging to its members. "That little, feeble band of temperance brethren," says Armstrong, "holding their quarterly and annual meetings in a country district school house from April, 1808, onward for several years, without the presence of a single female at their temperance meetings; who were made the song of the drunkard; who were ridiculed by the scoffs of the intemperate world; undisciplined in arms of even moral suasive tactics for warfare, and unable of themselves to encounter the Prince of Hell, with his legions of instrumentalities . . . were, nevertheless, the seed of the great temperance reformation."
That Armstrong deplored the narrow ideas which prevailed to the discouraging of women from fraternizing with the society, is more explicitly shown in the words which express his gratification in the great numbers of women who, by their presence and cooperation, subsequently aided so much in the promotion of the work. Dr. Clark also protested against the exclusion of women from membership in the temperance societies. These statements are introduced that it may be known that the two leading men in the Moreau society would have hailed with delight the advent of the Woman's Christian Temperance Union. That great institution, not reckoning many others devoted to the same cause, is of itself alone a glorious monument to the pioneers of Moreau who, in a tempest of scorn and ridicule, laid its foundations. Wisely the Woman's Christian Temperance Union, as the name implies, built up its sublime edifice of the same material—the granite of organization. From towns, through counties, states, nations and the civilized world, it carries on systematically its vast and beneficent enterprises. Words cannot express, nor the mind conceive, the power of the prodigious engine which, distributed in a diversity of directions, is being exerted daily, hourly and momentarily by this great association of consecrated women. And here let me say that not only did the temperance reformation come into existence within the borders of our commonwealth, but that the late Frances Elizabeth Willard, the great light in the organization of which I have been speaking, was a daughter of the state of New York.
Dr. Clark continued in the practice of medicine for a quarter of a century after the formation of the Moreau temperance society, making his residence on the farm of his original purchase. Of this long period of professional labor there remains no memorial, though in common with the routine duties of medical men, it undoubtedly abounded in elements which, interesting of themselves, would be all the more so as belonging to the life of one so distinguished in the annals of reform. Beginning to experience the physical effects of his protracted devotion to his profession, and having accumulated considerable property, Dr. Clark in 1833 purchased real estate in Glens Falls and embarked there in the retail drug business. This successful enterprise engaged his attention until 1849, when he retired from trade. Two years later, longing for the quiet life on the farm, he returned to reside at the old home at Clark's Corners. He was now at the age of seventy-three, but enjoyed, with the exception of a gradual failing of the sense of sight, an almost unimpaired mental and physical vitality. But the gloom before his eyes grew remorselessly thicker and thicker until every familiar scene and the faces of family and friends faded from his view. In the custody of this great affliction, the spirit of Dr. dark was not crushed, but rather purified and exalted, so that he who in earlier years had been conspicuous as the heroic leader, was now none the less remarkable for his Christian humility, hope and love. A few years longer he tarried upon the earth, in order that there might be registered upon the hearts of men the beauty and nobility of the character that was his. And then, at Glens Falls, in the home of his son, James C. Clark, the spirit of the great reformer went to its long home. His death occurred on Wednesday morning, September 20, 1866. Dr. Holden says: "The intelligence of his departure was swiftly borne through the place; his name was on every lip as all, with hushed reverence, bore testimony to his virtues, and to the usefulness of a life luminous with the light of a Christ-born principle."
Notwithstanding his portrait, in its severe lines, gives evidence of his decisive mind and undeviating purpose, he yet possessed elements of character that endeared him to all. While in terms of affectionate banter, alluding to his spirit of determination and his practice of proposing to formulate the mind of public meetings in resolutions, he was sometimes spoken of as "Resolution Billy," the people knew that beneath the crust of self-reliant earnestness dwelt the loving humanitarian and the undying fires of a moral volcano.
Unlike the experience of the most of those who entertain pronounced ideas and proclaim them in the face of established custom. Dr. Clark seems to have retained his popularity. Evidently he was a very tactful man. In 1809, the year following the formation of the temperance society, he was made supervisor of the town of Moreau, and although his activity, constant, wide and diversified, was being powerfully directed against the intemperate habits of the people, he seems to have maintained their confidence and friendship. He was again chosen supervisor in 1821. We may derive a hint of his high standing in the public estimation from the fact that he was chosen in 1848 for the New York Electoral college, whose choice was Taylor and Filmore.
The funeral address of Rev. A. J. Fennel, of the Glens Falls Presbyterian Church, has been preserved and appears as a supplement to Dr. Holden's obituary article. Rev. Mr. Fennel having been Dr. Clark's pastor, his discourse is of great biographical value. His opening remarks were particularly well chosen and impressive. He said:
"I feel, my friends, that Providence calls us to perform no mean office to-day. We are to convey to their final resting place the mortal remains of one who has been a power in the world for great good to the children of men—whose name will enter into history as that of a benefactor of the community; and whose influence, as an element in the temperance reformation, will run on into future generations. It cannot do us any hurt, it ought to do us good, to pause a few moments in this habitation now made sacred as the spot whence the earnest spirit of so devoted and useful a man took its departure to the heavenly rest, and reflect on his life of activity and toil, and observe how Providence used him for our good and the good of our children."
With appropriate public demonstrations, the remains of Dr. Clark were borne to the burying ground of the Union Meeting House, in Moreau, and placed to rest beside the grave of his wife. There, two miles from the historic spot where he unfurled the banner of a world-wide moral movement, his ashes mingled with the soil that his devotion has made of honorable distinction.
Thus, have I attempted to disentangle, gather up and lead in continuous discourse the scattered threads which I have found in my study of this neglected subject. If I have rendered more coherent and tangible the life and achievement of a universally influential philanthropist, I shall be pleased; but I hope, besides that good result, the consideration of the memoirs of a man who had a great mission in the world and who ably and conscientiously discharged it, will serve to impress upon us a sense of the power of elevated ideas when duly championed by even one consecrated soul.
Acknowledgement.
In expressing my appreciation of the assistance which has been rendered me in the collection of materials for the preparation of this paper, I would particularly mention Mr. James A. Holden, of Glens Falls, who has furnished me, from the library of his father, the late Dr. A. W. Holden, with most valuable matter, some of which could have been obtained from no other source. I also duly acknowledge my indebtedness to Hon. Grenville M. Ingalsbe, of Sandy Hill, who interested himself in my search for data, and feel myself under obligations to the Schuylerville Standard and to the Glen Falls Times for gratuitously publishing my request for information.
Communications.
From the letters relating to the subject in hand which I have received, I glean the following. I might say that the discrepancy which appears in the descriptions of Dr. Clark's person may be accounted for by the different ages and conditions of health in which he is best remembered by the several Observers:
From Dr. Albert Mott, Cohoes: "The location of the Union Meeting House was at Reynold's Corners, about four or five hundred feet from the corner, directly east. The burying ground was north and across the road from the meeting house."
From Rev. Dr. Jos. E. King, Fort Edward: "In 1858 the old church (Union Meeting House) was filled, to enjoy the commemorative exercises of the 50th year since the origin of the temperance cause, and I heard Hon. Judge McKean, of Saratoga, address the congregation. There was singing, prayer, a poem by Lura Boies, &c."
Statement of Judge Lyman H. Northrup, of Sandy Hill, who remembers Dr. Clark: "He always carried upon his countenance a mild, genial, pleasant expression; dressed with neatness, and appeared to be a good sort of a fellow, and exhibited not at all that asperity which we associate in our minds with the active reformer."
From William Gary, of Gansevoort, who was intimate with Dr. Clark: "He had rather small, black eyes, which would be generally considered rather piercing. His hair was black and very profuse; eye-brows very shaggy. His height I should put at 5 ft. 10 in., and weight about 170 lbs."
From B. F. Lapham, of Glens Falls: "I was well acquainted with Dr. B. J. Clark. He lived on the same street we did for many years, and when he died I helped prepare his body for burial. He was rather eccentric in many things and very resolute. There never was a meeting held but he would suggest some resolution, so they nicknamed him 'Resolution Billy.' Dr. Clark's name will be famous through all time as the originator of the first temperance organization that ever existed. He was an ardent and efficient laborer all his life."
From Miss Anna Mott, of Glens Falls. Miss Mott is a daughter of James Mott, who was a co-laborer in the temperance cause with Dr. Clark, and his neighbor at Clark's Corners: "As I remember Dr. B. J. Clark, he was a cultured, refined man, with fine sensibility. He had a kind word and look for every one that was worthy of it. He was of medium height and size. His hair and eyes were black; his forehead high and broad. His mouth and chin bespoke firmness. His complexion 'was dark. As I saw Dr. Clark, he was a very kind, gentlemanly old man, and appreciated every kindness he received."
From Austin L. Reynolds, of South Glens Falls. Mr. Reynolds knew Dr. Clark for many years, and assisted him in the temperance work: "Dr. Clark's name was Billy, instead of William. He was stocky in form, and weighed about 175 lbs. His height was about 5 ft. 6 in.; complexion fair; dark hair and eyes, and very heavy eyebrows. He was peculiarly successful as a physician and as a business man. Was the owner of several farms and was interested in a paper mill, situated on what is known as Snoot Kill Creek. Later, he moved to Glens Falls and was proprietor of a drug store for a number of years in that village. Then he returned to Clark's Corners with his daughter, Mrs. Alfred C. Farlin (widow), as housekeeper, and remained at his homestead for several years. He lost his eyesight and was entirely blind. Then he returned to Glens Falls, and died in 1866. He left one son and three daughters, all of whom are now dead."
A Visit to Clark's Corners.
In order that I might obtain a better understanding of the topography of the neighborhood, I visited Clark's Corners on a day in August, 1905. Driving west from Fort Edward, at a distance of three miles I came to Reynolds' (four) Corners. I was very courteously received by Mr. Austin L. Reynolds, who gave me full information as to all the historic spots connected with the Moreau society. Mr. Reynolds is at an advanced age, more than eighty, but he promptly and clearly communicated to me the facts herewith set forth.
The roads at Reynolds' Corners run toward the cardinal points, and the burying ground of the Union Meeting House is at a short distance east of the corners, as already has been stated by Dr. Mott. The remains of Dr. Clark were removed from this, the place of their first burial, and were re-interred at Glens Falls. The site of the Union Meeting House is unoccupied, the present chapel standing on other ground, some distance to the west. The Union Meeting House was Dr. Clark's place of worship, and his pastor, Rev. Lebbeus Armstrong, resided at the parsonage, one-half mile south of the church and on the west side of the highway. The cottage which stands on the site of Armstrong's home is now the residence of Mr. Halsey Chambers. It was here that Dr. Clark came in the night upon his historic errand.
Clark's (four) Corners are directly south of Reynolds' Corners and two miles distant. The north and south road is crossed at right angles by the other. Both of these localities are open country, that of Clark's Corners having the appearance of fertility and thrift; pleasant homes and commodious buildings being numerous. Clark's Corners may be conveniently reached from the village of Gansevoort, on the Delaware and Hudson Railroad, two miles south.
The site of the Mawney house is at Clark's Corners. It stood on the northwest corner. Another building has since been erected upon this ground. Dr. Clark's home stood across the road, on the southwest corner. The house has disappeared, but the cellar walls stand almost intact. About forty rods south of the corners and on the east side of the road is the site of the school-house in which the Moreau society held its meetings. A dwelling house, the home of Mr. George Haviland, now occupies that plot of ground.
The sites of the Union Meeting House, parsonage, Mawney house, Dr. Clark's house, and the school house, should be appropriately marked.