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Chapter III |
| Part 1, pgs. 479 - 528 | Part 2, pgs. 528- 574 |
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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES. |
|
ENOCH CURTIN. 1794-1842. |
Mr. Curtin was born at Lynn on the 25th of July, 1794, and was a son of John
Curtin. His education was not beyond that afforded by the common schools
of his time. And he contentedly pursued the humble occupation of a shoemaker.
But he was a man of far more than ordinary ability. Mr. Lewis, who
knew him well, says, "He was a man of estimable qualities, and possessed great
poetical talent. He had a very happy faculty for the production of odes
and songs adapted to particular occasions. His mind was intellectual,
refined, and noble, and he was widely esteemed and beloved." In 1816, he
married Sally Ireson, by whom he had seven children; and he died on the 28th of
May, 1842, at the age of forty-seven.
Mr. Curtin
furnishes a striking example of unasserted talents. There is little doubt
that nature bestowed on him powers, which, had they been fully developed and
cultivated, would have made him eminent as a poet. He appears to have felt
assured of this, but had not sufficient ambition to overcome a natural
repugnance to that earnest and persistent intellectual labor by which alone one
can become eminent as a writer. And in his grave, perhaps rests another
"mute, inglorious Milton." In his sequestered walk as a humble mechanic,
however, with his contemplative rather than laboring mind, he may have enjoyed
more than he could have enjoyed through the ringing plaudits of a hollow hearted
world. But can any one fulfill his duty to his fellow men while allowing
talents which might benefit them to remain unimproved? And is it not
selfishness to prefer a pleasurable ease to a putting forth of those exertions
which would enhance the enjoyment of others?
As Mr.
Lewis remarks, Mr. Curtin possessed a very happy faculty for composing odes and
occasional pieces. His style was stirring and eloquent - just what is
required in such compositions. His pen was in requisition for a
contribution for almost every sort of celebration and dedication; and the
newsboy confidently expected a glowing address for his patrons at new year's
time. If he could have disciplined himself so as to bestow a little more
labor on what might be called the finish of his pieces, eliminating redundances,
easing off occasional rough turns, rectifying an imperfect image here and there,
he would, on a final perusal, have been better satisfied with his productions,
and they would have gone forth with a stronger recommendation to the
discriminating reader. In consequence of this want of care and exactness
in expressing himself, his full meaning does not always at once appear; and
hence to the inattentive reader much may be lost. There is a wide
difference between him and Miss Fuller, in these respects, as the reader will at
once perceive. Their general styles, too, are marked by all the
differences that characterize the opposite sexes; hers is feminine and smoothly
flowing, his masculine and often abrupt. But I hardly know who would place
one below the other as a favorite of the Muses.
As
a writer to be read in times not his own, Mr. Curtin labored under a
disadvantage. His pieces were commonly written with reference to
particular occasions or localities and were apt to contain expressions which
could not be fully understood, under other circumstances. He wrote
rapidly, generally on the spur of the occasion, and in accordance with some
special solicitation which his generosity would not suffer him to decline; he
wrote, too, without expectation of pecuniary reward; and his uniform success
establishes the fact of an active and trustworthy genius; which is certainly to
be preferred to one of the pyrotechnic order, however brilliant or startling an
occasional scintillation may be. He was unassuming, and I apprehend would
have been undisturbed by criticism, as he might defiantly exclaim, in the
language of
Wordsworth,
The
moving accident is not my trade.
Most writers in verse who have not had considerable
experience nor been subjected to the shocks of criticism - and many, indeed, who
have - injure their composition by straining after the ornamental and disdaining
the natural. But it seems to me that Mr. Curtin, and Miss Fuller, were
both singularly free from such an unfortunate habit. And as every one has a love
for the natural, they will never cease to have admirers. Their styles were
very different, and so were their themes; and it is strong evidence of their
appreciation of their own powers that with each, theme and style were so well
adapted to each other.
Mr. Curtin did not confine
himself to poetry, by any means. He wrote a great many excellent prose
articles; some of an imaginative character, and others on the sober realities of
life. And his pen was not unfrequently exercised on political subjects.
He could be caustic if he chose, but was dignified, and seldom trespassed
on the strict rules of courtesy. A couple of specimens of his poetry
follow.
SOUND FREEDOM'S TRUMP !
An Ode sung at the Celebration of
Independence, in Lynn, July 4, 1831.]
Sound Freedom's
Trump! The day returns,
The
day that gave our Nation birth!
The fire upon our
altar burns,
Whose sacred incense fills the earth.
Let crumbling crowns to dust retire,
While Liberty's eternal fire,
O'er tottering
thrones sheds its bright
ray,
And round
the earth in triumph rolls,
A halo of immortal
day,
Whose arch of
glory lights the Poles
Sound
Freedom's Trump! Let each glad voice
Join the fill chorus
of delight!
This day at Freedom's shrine
rejoice,
While
Europe's minions sleep in night!
Despots shall mourn their regal birth,
And sceptres vanish from the earth!
Let mitres in
obedience nod,
Be
Tyranny in ruin hurled,
And Liberty proclaim her
God,
While Freedom's
Trump shall wake the world!
Sound Freedom's
Trump, o'er hill and dale!
Throughout Columbia's
vast domain
Let songs of joy and mirth prevail,
And each glad voice
repeat the strain.
No tyrant foot shall tread the soil,
Our fathers bought with blood and toil!
Firm as the
rocks upon our strand,
To guard the right by
freedom given,
Columbia's hardy sons shall stand,
A fearless host - the
pride of Heaven!
Sound Freedom's Trump! Awake!
Arise!
And bid the
thundering cannon's roar
Swell in loud peans to the
skies,
And fill the
earth from shore to shore!
Gallia and Grecia shall be free!
And Poland shouts for liberty!
On pinions of
immortal fame,
The
sacred flame each clime shall bound;
Then, while
Columbia holds a name,
Let holy Freedom's
Trumpet sound!
LINES,
Addressed to a young lady of Marblehead, on
the death of her brother, who died at Batavia, in the island of Java, and was
buried on a small island, about half a league fiom Batavia. In digging his
grave a considerable quantity of curious marine shells, of beautiful variety,
were found embedded about four feet from the surface of the earth, a number of
which were preserved and brought to this country, one of them being presented to
the author. Written in 1830.
Be hushed
thy sighs! Oh, weep not for the dead,
Who sweetly
sleeps within his coral bed;
Oh, cease to chide the
swelling waves that bore
A loving brother from his
native shore
For the
trumpet shall sound
And the dead shall arise,
To inherit a crown
From the King of the skies.
No more the storm
shall gather round his head,
No more the foaming
waves their crests shall rear,
To shatter his frail
bark - no more the lead
Shall tell of rocks, and
shoals, and quicksands near.
For behold to unite
In the sweet promise given,
He has taken his
flight
To the mansions of Heaven.
Oft has he braved
the perils of the deep,
And heard the rude winds
whistle through the shrouds.
Oft has he strove his
little bark to keep
Safe from the fury of the
gathering clouds.
But
the clouds have passed o'er,
And the winds are at rest;
He now dwells secure
In the realms of the blest.
Far in the palm
trees' shade his bed is found,
Where Indian summers
yield eternal bloom;
Where spicy groves spread
their rich foliage round,
And shed their fragrance
o'er his early tomb.
Where the lote shall wave,
And the cypress shall twine,
Till the mariner's
grave
Shall its treasure resign.
What though no
storied urn points out the spot,
Or marble marks
his last retreat from care;
What though no stone
records his early lot,
Or tells - "The ship-wreck'd
mariner lies there."
Yet to his sad pile
Shall the murmuring surge,
As it sweeps round
the isle,
Sing the young sailor's dirge.
Then weep no
more! Oh hush those sighs of thine;
For could thy
tears recall him from that shore,
Where his blest
spirit lives in bliss divine,
Methinks, young
friend, that thou would'st weep no more.
Then trust in that
arm,
Whose chastening rod
Will shield thee from harm
-
'Tis the power of' God.
|
JOSIAH NEWHALL. 1790-1842. |
Mr.
Newhall was a highly respected and useful citizen, and for many years continued
to fill the most responsible offices in the town. He was a Representative
for several terms, and a Senator in 1832 and '33. He was one of our
largest shoe manufacturers, for years, and in all his business relations secured
the utmost confidence of those with whom he dealt. His residence and place
of business were at the east end of the Common. In manners he was
dignified and courteous; and he was excelled by none for integrity of character
and purity of life. For many years he was a prominent member of the
Methodist connection, and active in benevolent enterprises.
He was born at Lynn, on the 7th of January, 1790,
and was a descendant from Thomas Newhall, the first person of European parentage
born in Lynn. He was twice married. His first wife was Lydia
Johnson, to whom he was united on the 19th of March, 1811, and by whom he had
four children - Robert, who died in infancy; Elizabeth; Martha, who died in
infancy; and Harrison. His second wife was Clarissa Martin, whom he
married in 1832, and by whom he had two children - Charles M., who died in
childhood, and Josiah H., who is now a Methodist minister.
Mr. Newhall died on the 7th of November. 1842.
|
EDWARD LUMMUS COFFIN. 1794-1845. |
Dr.
Coffin was the third son of Dr. Aaron Lummus, and a brother of Charles F.
Lummus, a biographical sketch of whom has been given. His name was changed
to Coffin, which was the family name on the maternal side, chiefly because his
father and elder brother, John, were at the time practising physicians here and
confusion was liable to occur. He was born in Lynn, on the 14th of
December, 1794, graduated at Harvard, and studied medicine under Dr. Shurtleff,
of Boston. He was twice married. His first wife was Mary Rhodes, whom he
married in 1823, and by whom he had one child, named Edward Everett, who died in
infancy. His second wife was Frances Cutler, of Cambridge, by whom he had
two children - Mary F. and Edward C. He died at his residence, on Market
street, on the 31st of March, 1845, at the age of fifty, after a painful
sickness of more than two years.
Dr. Coffin was a
highly esteemed citizen; skillful in his profession, liberal in his views, of
generous disposition and affable manners. He was active in the cause of
popular education and the general diffusion of intelligence; was much interested
in the common schools, in lectures, and scientific discussions. And he was
not apt to denounce a new thing, without examination, because others decried it
as a humbug. I remember when the first lecturer on animal magnetism came
to town and discoursed in the old Town Hall, with what fairness he joined thumbs
with him, and how patiently he sat under the manipulations, entirely undisturbed
by the merriment of those in whose minds the whole thing was forestalled as an
imposition. He was not one of the many who are so excessively timid,
through fear of compromising their dignity, that they suffer the best
opportunities for improvement to slip by unemployed. His labors on the
school committee, in conjunction with those of Rev. Mr. Rockwood, who was
likewise an ardent friend of education, were highly appreciated. And their
unity of purpose, in this respect, did much toward creating a lasting friendship
between them; though on one important matter their views were essentially
different - the Doctor being a decided Unitarian and Mr. Rockwood a high
Calvinist.
He possessed a vein of humor which would
sometimes assert itself in a most pleasing manner; but he did not suffer it to
override his dignity. Men who fancy themselves wits, and set themselves up
as such, are prone to obtrude their smart saying as well out of season as in
season, greatly to the annoyance of others and their own discredit. But the
occasional sallies of a genuine and unostentatious humorist, are like placid
rays of sunshine in the world's dull routine. Nor was the Doctor without
ability as a versifier, his productions being usually of a playful character.
His pieces were evidently unstudied; but they bear unmistakable
evidence of a trained mind and lively sensibilities. The following appears
in the form of a receipted bill, dated December 29, 1827, and was sent to a
townsman into whose family he had been professionally called during the
year. His charges were certainly moderate; particularly as he appears to
have taken store pay.
1827. My frien' good Mr. William B.
Indebted is to Doctor E.
For sundry pills and potions,
And credited by more amount,
As will be seen by shop account,
For claes and gloves and notions.
Feb'y. When slippery
Pisces led the year,
(Tail-tied, for lack of better gear,
The stars amang,)
Ye ken I've charged a groat or two
For self and wife and little Sue,
When called to
gang, ......... 75
March. Item - when
crinkled-horned Aries
Looked frowning fra' the vernal skies,
Rheumatics boding,.......
May.
Item - when Maia's gentler reign
Brought in a ghostly croupy train,
Your lugs aye loading, ...... 1.38
June 24. When canker worms
had left the trees, ..... 70
July.
And Cancer mellowed down the breeze,
(For wife and wee
ane,)
......... 2.37
August.
When Leo's flaming eye surveyed
All Sammy's cattle in the shade,
Except - the HE
ANE
...........
1.62
$6.82
May
He who only has the giftie,
Make you aye cantie,
hale and thriftie,
To
life's last hour.
May
a' the Powers above defend ye,
Fra' croup and
toothack always tent ye,
And
blue deil's power.
And when adown
life's hill ye're ganging
May conscience give
no fearfu'
twanging,
But hopes aye braw,
And may your bonny bairns inherit
Their mither's warth,
their father's spirit,
When ye're awa.
|
ENOCH MUDGE. 1776-1850. |
Mr.
Mudge was born in Lynn, on the 28th of June, 1776, and was a son of Enoch Mudge,
who lived on the south side of the Common. At the early age of seventeen
years he was licensed as a Methodist preacher, and the next year joined the
traveling connection. He was the first Methodist preacher born in New
England, and continued active in the ministry for a great number of years.
He was a man of fervid piety and great activity of mind. His
poetical effusions - of which many appeared at aifferent periods of his
life - bear evidence of a mind warmly in love with the beautiful of nature, and
his sermons, of a heart devoted to the good of his fellow men. He married,
29 November, 1797, Jerusha Hinkley, a daughter of John Holbrook, of Wellfleet,
by whom he had four children - Solomon H., Anne B., Mary A., and Enoch R.; the
latter of whom erected the beautiful Gothic stone cottage at Swampscot, which
attracts so much attention from strangers of taste.
Mr. Mudge died in Lynn on the 2d of April, 1850, at the age of seventy-four, and
was buried from the First Methodist meeting-house.
At the close of the biographical sketch of Micajah Collins may be found some
lines from the pen of Mr. Mudge. His longest production in metre, was, I
think, that entitled "Lynn, a Poem." It was written in 1820, and
published, in pamphlet form, in 1826. It comprises some six hundred and
fifty lines; is not very lively in style, and is hardly calculated to meet the
cravings of a taste that prefers the stimulating to the merely nutritious.
Wit and humor always impart a relish to poetic effusions on themes which
are not strictly pensive or solemnly didactic. Without one or the other,
the sentiment must be pleasurable or the imagery glowing to render a piece at
all attractive. But I do not find that Mr. Mudge laid claim to either wit or
humor. His poetry was rather instructive and admonitory than pleasing; and
it was always valuable for its moral inculcations and good common sense
views. The following lines, which were probably written in 1826, are as
easy and pleasant as any thing of his that I have been able to find. The
sentiment will be approved, and the comparisons are suggestive, though an
imperfect expression or two may be noticed.
THE BLISS OF PIETY.
Gentle is the breath of May,
At the early dawn of day;
Mild the virgin-blushing rose,
When first opening from repose;
Sweet the odors of perfume,
From the honeysuckle bloom,
Pleasant is the morning ray,
Peeping from the birth of day;
Pure the gentle dew or rain,
When distilling o'er the plain;
Charming to angelic ears,
Is the music of the spheres.
All these images are faint,
The Bliss of Piety to paint.
Gentler, milder, sweeter, are
The breath of Piety and Prayer.
Music, light, and dew, and rain,
All your images are vain.
Breath of light and life divine,
Odors, music, all are thine.
|
ASA TARBEL NEWHALL. 1779-1850. |
Mr.
Newhall was born in the part Lynn that now forms Lynnfield, on the 28th of June,
1779. He was a son of Asa, who was born on the,5th of August, 1732, and
was a son of Thomas, who was born on the 6th of January, 1681, and was a son of
Joseph, who was born on the 22d of September, 1658, and was a son of Thomas
Newhall, the first white person born in Lynn.
Mr. Newhall was bred a farmer, and followed the honorable occupation all his
life. He was a close observer of the operations of nature, and brought to
the notice of others divers facts of great benefit to the husbandman. He
delivered one or two addresses at agricultural exhibitions, and published
several papers which secured marked attention and elicited discussion. His
mind was penetrating and possessed a happy mingling of the practical and
theoretical; and he had sufficient energy and industry to insure results.
Such a person will always make himself useful in the world, though he may
be destitute of that kind of ambition which would place him in conspicuous
positions.
He was liberal in his views, courteous
in his manners; and by his sound judgment and unswerving integrity secured
universal respect. In his earlier manhood he was somewhat active as a
politician, and was deemed judicious and trustworthy. He was a member of
the Constitutional Convention of 1820, and a Senator in 1826. He was also
a Representative, in 1828.
His wife was Judith
Little, of Newbury; and he had nine children - Joshua L., Asa T., Thomas B.,
Sallie M., Eunice A., Judith B., Caroline E., Hiram L., and Elizabeth B.
Mr. Newhall died at his residence, in the
southeastern part of Lynnfield, on the 18th of December, 1850, aged 71, and was
buried with masonic honors.
|
EZRA MUDGE. 1780-1855. |
Mr. Mudge was born in Lynn, on the 10th of April, 1780. He was
engaged in the shoe business, here, for some years of his early manhood, and
afterward went to New York, where he kept a large shoe store. Subsequently
he returned, and remained till the first administration of General Jackson,
when, on receiving an appointment in the Boston custom house, he removed to that
city, where he continued to reside till the time of his death. For sixteen
years he faithfully represented his native town in the Legislature, having first
taken his seat there in 1807. He was a member of the Constitutional
Convention, in 1820, and of the Executive Council, in 1828. He was active
in establishing the Artillery Company, in 1808, was one of the lieutenants
commissioned at the time of organization, and captain in 1813.
Mr. Mudge was a man of unaffected piety, sound
judgment, and agreeable manners. And though his worldly fortunes varied,
he never lost his integrity nor the respect of his fellow men. He died on
the 25th of May, 1855, and his remains were brought to Lynn and buried from the
South street Methodist meeting-house, he having been all his life a consistent
adherent of the Methodist faith. He was thrice married, his first
matrimonial connection having been entered into at the early age of twenty-one
years. His first wife was Betsey Brewer, whom he married in 1801, and by whom he
had no children. His second wife was Ruth Chadwell, whom he married in
1804, and by
whom he had seven children - Ezra A., Eliza B., Ruth C., Ezra
W., Nathan, Hannah, and Sarah W. His third wife was Hannah Drew, and by
her he had seven children - Lemuel D., William B., Hervey M., Sarah C., Mary E.,
Maria A., and Robert R. Ezra Warren, the fourth child by the second wife,
was Mayor of Lynn in 1856 and '57.
|
FRANCIS STUART NEWHALL. 1795-1858. |
Mr. Newhall was born in Lynn on the 30th of April, 1795, and was a son of
Winthrop, who was born on the 6th of June, 1769, and was a son of Farrar (or
Pharaoh, as he was universally called, and which name he himself adopted,) who
was born on the 15th of February, 1735, and was a son of Samuel, who was born on
the 9th of March, 1700, and was a son of Joseph, who was born on the 22d of
September, 1658, and was a son of Thomas, born in 1630 - the first person of
European parentage born in Lynn.
Like most of
his cotemporaries, his father being in moderate circumstances, Mr. Newhall had
but little opportunity to acquire more than a very common education. At
about the age of thirteen he commenced learning the trade of a tanner, which
business his father had followed for some years. Soon after attaining his
majority he engaged in the morocco manufacture, and did a considerable business
for those times. In 1822, the firm of F. S. and H. Newhall, familiar to
every body in this vicinity, for many years, was formed; Henry, Mr. Newhall's
brother, who is still living, being the junior partner.
Mr. Newhall removed to New York in 1825, and
established another business house, with a third partner, Mr. Ebenezer Burrill -
the old firm continuing in Lynn. Although the New York firm was not successful,
yet it subsequently paid its indebtedness in full. Returning to Lynn, Mr.
Newhall, with his brother, prosecuted the morocco and leather business with such
energy and success, that they soon became two of our most wealthy
townsmen. The firm was dissolved in 1850, on account of the ill health of
Henry. Mr. Newhall continued in trade for many years, and at the time of
his death was in the sole leather business, in Boston, with his son Henry
F.
He was for more
than twenty years a director of the Lynn Mechanics Bank; and in 1849, through
his exertions the Laighton Bank was established, of which, with the exception of
three weeks, in 1856, he was president till the day of his death. He was
one of the founders of the Lynn Mechanics Insurance Company, which has been
remarkably successful.
Mr.
Newhall was among those earliest interested in the Unitarian society, and
continued through life to be one of its most active and generous supporters.
He was also active in political
matters, and in the days of anti-masonry was several times chosen a
Representative to the Legislature. After the decline of the anti-masonic
party he became a whig, and was elected to the Senate in 1843 and '44.
There were but few matters of
public interest or importance in which he did not take part. Being an
active man, one of strong points and decided character, he was usually
prominent. He was prompt, energetic, and far-seeing, and possessed very
considerable skill as a financier.
Mr. Newhall was intelligent,
social, hospitable, and a man of rare integrity. In speech he was
sometimes rather blunt; but this perhaps arose more from his propensity to
declare openly an honest conviction than a natural inclination to
harshness. He was of a liberal disposition, and in mercantile affairs
especially, was a man of much influence.
In 1818 he married Lydia, a
daughter of Thompson Burrill, and a lineal descendant from Hon. Ebenezer
Burrill, a biographical sketch of whom may be found commencing on page 492; and
his children were, Eliza, Persis, Henry F., Lydia A., Maria, B., and George T.
Mr. Newhall died on the 2d of
February, 1858, and was buried from his residence on Market street, opposite
Summer.
|
ISAAC NEWHALL. 1782-1858. |
Mr. Newhall was born in Lynn on
the 24th of August, 1782, and was a direct descendant from Thomas Newhall, the
first of the name who settled in Lynn. He was for many years a merchant,
and at one time did an extensive business.
He was intelligent, and his
literary attainment was considerable. In 1831 he published, in a
well-printed duodecimo volume, a series of letters addressed to John Pickering,
in which he endeavored to satisfy the world that Earl Temple was the author of
the Junius Letters. The work attracted considerable attention, though it
failed to satisfy mankind that the great unknown were really unmasked.
Mr., Newhall was twice
married. His first wife was Sarah Lewis, a cousin of the Lynn Bard, whom
he married in 1809, and by whom he had seven children - Sarah, Gustavus,
Margaret, Horatio, Isaac, Martha A., and Louisa. He married his second
wife in 1849, and by her had one daughter - Sarah M. In his youth,
Gustavus manifested ambition for literary fame, and wrote a good many pieces, in
prose and poetry, which appeared in the newspapers, and were well received.
Mr. Lummus, of the Mirror, thought well of them, and I remember hearing
Mr. Lewis speak of them as promising much; but the promise was not fulfilled.
Mr. Newhall resided from
town a good portion of his active life, and was in business at Salem a number of
years. But he returned to Lynn and spent his latter days at the old
homestead, on the east side of Mall street, near the mill brook. There he
died, on the 6th of July, 1858. As he was a brother of John M.. Newhall,
his genealogy may be traced by recurring to page 487 of this volume.
|
ISAIAH BREED. 1786-1859. |
Mr. Breed descended from a
respectable ancestry whose fortunes were identified with the weal or wo of Lynn,
from an early period. He was born on the 21st of October, 1786. At
an early age he commenced labor upon the shoemaker's seat, whence he arose to
become one of the most extensive and successful shoe manufacturers of his time.
He became wealthy, and was liberal with his means, in all enterprises
calculated to be of public benefit; and his private charities were large.
He, was in active business for nearly fifty years, was president of Mechanics
Bank more than thirty years, and was a member of the first board of Directors of
the Eastern Rail-road.
For
several terms Mr. Breed was a Representative in the Legislature, and he was
elected a Senator, in 1839; and though he was not gifted as an orator, his
services as a trustworthy and industrious working member, were highly
appreciated. In person he was commanding and in manners dignified.
In his social relations - as a
kind neighbor and fast friend - he was worthy of imitation; and by his virtues
he merited the respect of all. For a number of years he was a professing
Christian of the Calvinistic school, and was most efficient in establishing the
Central Congregational Society of Lynn, toward which he was ever generous with
his means.
Mr. Breed was twice
married. His first wife was Mary Blake, and by her he had five children -
Bartlett B., Abba M., Mary A., Isaiah C., and George R. His second wife
was Sally P. Moore, and by her he had five children - Lucilla P., Hervey C.,
Bowman B., Francis C., and James H.
For many years his place of
residence was at the northeast corner of Broad and Exchange streets, and there
he died on the 23d of May, 1859.
|
GEORGE HOOD. 1806-1859. |
Mr. Hood was born in Lynn, on the
10th of November, 1806, and as soon as he had received the little school
instruction common with dependent youth at that period, was put to shoemaking.
He was of industrious habits and soon began to develop business talents of
a high order.
Just
before arriving at the age of twenty-three - that is, in 1829 - in company with
John C. Abbott, who was then but nineteen years of age, he went forth into the
wide world to seek his fortune. The united capital of these two
enterprising and adventurous young men amounted to four hundred dollars.
They directed their course to St. Louis, Missouri, then a very inconsiderable
place compared with what it was destined soon to become through the energies of
just such settlers as they. In a few days after arriving there they were
established in business, and before a month had elapsed, Mr. Hood, with a part
of their stock, went down to Natchez, in Mississippi, and commenced a branch
establishment; and the Natchez trade remained under his special charge till it
was discontinued, in 1835, the principal business all the time remaining at St.
Louis. During the last named year, Mr. Hood returned and took up his abode
at Lynn, commencing a commission shoe and leather store at Boston, though he
retained an interest in the St. Louis business till 1841. In the Boston
business he continued till the time of his decease. Mr. Abbott likewise
proved himself a very energetic and successful business man; and he also, after
a few years returned to the east, and still resides in this vicinity. He
was the first president of our City Bank, and is at present president of the
Shoe and Leather Dealers' Insurance Company, of Boston. Mr. Hood had great
boldness in his business enterprises, almost, at times, approaching to rashness,
yet his shrewdness and tenacity seldom failed to carry him safely through.
He was high-minded and honorable in his transactions, and generous toward those
less fortunate than himself.
Not long after his return to the east, Mr. Hood became active in the political
field. He was a member of the Democratic party, fought manfully for its
interests, and was rewarded in various ways. In one of the gubernatorial
campaigns, he was the accredited candidate of the party for Lieutenant Governor;
and he was at another time the regular party candidate for a seat in the
national Congress. In Lynn, he held the most responsible offices, and in
all of them performed his duties with credit to himself and benefit to those who
had entrusted him with the management of their affairs. He had a strict
eye to economy in public expenditure, and a generous sympathy for all the
dependent classes, especially the laboring and the poor, and was one of the
foremost in breaking up the old custom of indefinitely protracted daily labor,
and establishing the ten hour system, as it was called, which is alluded to
under date 1850. He was several times chosen a Representative, was a
Senator in 1843, and a member of the Constitutional Convention, in 1853.
Mr. Hood was the first Mayor
of Lynn, and held the office two years, administering affairs with economy,
impartiality, and fidelity. The labor was great, for the machinery was
new; but he proved himself equal to the occasion. And there is abundant
evidence of the confidence of the people in his ability and integrity, in the
fact that he was elected Mayor, notwithstanding he had all along been openly
opposed to the adoption of the city form of government. He was a man of
more than ordinary intelligence, and gifted with good practical common sense
views. His mind was penetrating, and in the conduct of public affairs,
particularly, he was accustomed to examine thoroughly into matters.
But yet, after a more than
ordinarily successful life, Mr. Hood's sun went down in a cloud. He died
at the Asylum for the Insane, at Worcester, on the night of Monday, June 29,
1859; and his body was brought to Lynn, and buried from his picturesque
residence, at the foot of High Rock.
Mr. Hood's wife was Hermione, a
daughter of Aaron Breed. They were married on the 11th of September, 1833,
and she survived him. They had thirteen children -Harriet M., George A.,
Adelaide M., Edwin E., Edwin, Julius S., Henrietta A., Henry, Caroline P.,
Aubrey, Ada H., Edward K., and Mary.
|
ALONZO LEWIS. 1794-1861. |
Mr. Lewis was born in Lynn, on the
28th of August, 1794, in a house which still stands on the north side of Boston
street, in the vicinity of Water Hill, and was the son of Zachariah Lewis.
His lineage is given on page 181 of this History.
As soon as he had arrived at a
suitable age, he was put to the town school, and afterward became a pupil at
Lynn Academy. He evinced a strong desire to obtain something more than an
ordinary education, and applied himself with such vigor and assiduity as gave
sure presage of success. He never became a college graduate, but as early
as his eighteenth year was qualified to teach a common school. At that age
he took a school in Chester, N. H. There he remained but a short time, and
then taught in Lynnfield. And it must have been about this period that the
affecting episode occurred, which, as some of his friends have supposed, had a
serious effect on all his after life; and of which something will be said
hereafter. In 1823, he was preceptor of the Academy, though he remained in
that position but a short time. For twelve years he taught in the public
schools of his native place, and appears to have had an ardent love for his
vocation, deeply regretting the time when circumstances rendered it necessary
that he should abandon it. With touching emphasis he says, " I commenced
the profession of school teacher from the love of it, and devoted all my
energies to its advancement." One of his longest poems is entitled "The
Schoolmaster," and many passages might be collected from it showing his full
appreciation of the stern realities as well as high enjoyments attendant on the
profession. He says:
I sing
the Teacher's care, his daily pains,
The
hope that lifts him and the task that chains;
His
anxious toil to raise the gentle mind,
His skill
to clear the path for youth designed,
His
faithful watch o'er life's expanding ray,
To guide
young Genius up Improvement's way.
And again:
The
Teacher's lot is filled with pain and care
Which but devoted hearts are fit to bear.
His
rank and worth in freedom's cause are great,
Surpassed by few that bless the public state.
His
is the task to fit the youthful mind
For
all the stations by its God designed.
After Mr. Lewis had closed his
labors as a teacher, he chiefly followed the occupation of a surveyor and
architect. From the skill and rapidity with which he could handle his
instruments and make his calculations, and the neatness and accuracy of his
plans, he soon became so noted that his services were much in requisition.
His judgment and good
taste, also, particularly in the province of architectural embellishment, were
conspicuous. Many charming residences in their romantic nestling places
among the hills and along the shores of Lynn, bear evidence of his
accomplishments; for, having an eye for the beautiful in art and nature, and a
disciplined conception of harmony, he could not with patience behold the
loveliness of the landscape marred by unsightly structures, and hence was always
ready to suggest and advise, and even to furnish plans, in instances where he
knew the means of the recipients would not allow of their offering adequate
pecuniary compensation.
Mr. Lewis was three times married; or rather twice, for his second companion was
an ostensible rather than real wife, and from her he was soon separated.
His first wife was Frances Maria Swan, of Methuen, Mass., a woman of
eminent virtues and rare social attractions. By her he had six children -
Alonzo, Frances Maria, Aurelius, Llewellyn, Arthur, and Lynnworth - and she
died on the 27th of May, 1839. His other wife, whom he married on the 27th
of August, 1855, was Annie Ilsley Hanson, of Portland, Me.; and by her he had
two children - Ina and Ion - the former of whom died a few months before her
father, and the latter, with its widowed mother still survives. She proved
to him a faithful and affectionate companion, no difference of taste and
association, arising from their disparity of age - he having been her senior by
some thirty-six years - intervening to disturb their domestic
tranquillity. The intermediate companion alluded to, went through the
ceremony which he fondly believed was a valid marriage, in 1852, and which was
thus announced in the newspapers: "Married, in Providence, R. I., by Rev. Henry
Waterman, rector of St. Stephen's Church, Alonzo Lewis, the historian and poet
of Lynn, Mass., to Miss Mary Gibson, of Boston, daughter of Rev. Willard Gibson,
sometime of Windsor and Woodstock, Vt. We are informed that this is a
veritable love - match in both parties; they were engaged at the first meeting,
and the day of their nuptials was fixed at the second. The fair bride is
the daughter of an Episcopal clergyman, and is an orphan, having lost both
parents - only seventeen, beautiful, talented, and accomplished. The age
of Mr. Lewis is 56." It will be noticed that in this case also there was a
great difference of age - thirty-nine years; and the supposed bride seems not to
have outgrown some of her girlish fancies. It soon, however, to his
astonishment and her confusion, appeared that she had a former husband still
living - a young man who, from some cause had withdrawn from her side. If
she were not derelict in principle, she must have been extremely thoughtless to
suppose that her mere separation from the first husband would have warranted her
in so hastily and unceremoniously taking a second. It might, however, have
been that she supposed he was not living, as there appeared to have been reports
of his death. In disposition she was lively, with a dash of the romantic,
and had acquired some reputation as a writer in the department of light
literature.
Mr. Lewis
gained high commendation by his History of Lynn. And he was a poet as well as
historian, for he produced many verses which, under critical analysis, were
conceded to fully entitle him to the exalted name. But he was not a
voluminous writer. The history embraced but about two hundred and fifty
octavo pages; yet it was so condensed as to contain much more than its
proportions would to appearance allow; and unlike most works of the kind -
indeed unlike most works of any kind - seemed in the mind of the reader as he
proceeded to expand and shed more and more light. It has been said that
historical works are always interesting. But there is an almost
immeasurable difference in the degrees of interest. Minute details often
weary; and yet they often possess an unspeakable charm. Their success
depends upon the judgment with which they are chosen and the skill with which
they are introduced. Who has not perused, again and again, the fascinating
fiction of Robinson Crusoe? And who does not perceive that without its
minute details its enchantment would not exist? By an unskillful hand, the
story might have been told in a manner that would have caused its rejection by
the editor of a village newspaper. Mr. Lewis's details are never
wearying. And he had the happy faculty of introducing reflections and
illustrations that opened extensive fields of useful thought; a faculty which is
of inestimable value in any writer. And his poems, though collectively
insufficient, by force of mere bulk, to compel men to admit his claim to be a
poet, were yet so pure in morality, so refined in fancy, so apt in diction,
that.the intelligent and virtuous found in them much to delight and
improve. Of course those sensation stanzas and crude effusions which he
occasionally threw off for temporary purposes, and to which he had the
unaccountable propensity to frequently attach his name, to the damage of his
reputation, are not here taken into account, for they may be said not to have
been produced by Mr. Lewis the poet, but by the every-day Mr. Lewis, who had a
sudden impulse, with no time to think or elaborate.
Perhaps he indulged too much in
contemplation to be prolific as a writer. The most contemplative are
rarely industrious with the pen. Unless the words flow with almost
miraculous freedom the task of writing wearies, and the mind soars from it as
drudgery. Ambition to become famous is perhaps the strongest incentive to
what may be called the iechanical exertions of the literary devotee. And
that Mr. Lewis possessed enough of this kind of ambition no one who was often in
contact with him could for a moment doubt. But yet it was not sufficient
to overcome the sterner drawbacks to his pen. Say what we may, the man of
genius who is dependent on his daily toil for subsistence, often finds a heavy
weight upon his fancy's wing; though he who is, blest with independence may as
often permit fancy to fold her wings in inglorious ease. It may, however,
have been that he thought the little he did was enough to establish his fame.
And so it was, in a circumscribed and local sense. His memory will
be cherished by the people of his native place in distant years. But what
multitudes there are born in every community who have within them, qualities
that might make them shine, as poets, indeed, but yet whose lamps are never
lighted. As fervid fires have glowed in the heart of some plodding
teamster, perhaps, as he traversed the glistening Beach which our friend so much
loved to tread, as ever inspired a Byron. But the unlettered toiler never
dreamed of perpetuating his ardent conceptions in a way that would enable others
to rejoice in their light; never dreamed of applying his sturdy hand to the art
of composition, an art which in truth requires the curbing of much of the airy
freedom of thought, and which would bind by exacting rules.
On his History and Poems the fame
of Mr. Lewis, as a writer, rests, though he wrote a good deal besides; chiefly,
however, on subjects that required little thought or investigation. Pieces
of his appeared in the newspapers scattered over a period of more than thirty
years; but they were so exclusively directed to some special object of local
interest or usefulness that they met with no general observation. And here
again the bad habit of signing his name to effusions prepared hastily and
perhaps under excitement, would often assert itself to his prejudice, reducing
the value of a good name. It must be one of extraordinary power and
readiness who can add to his reputation in any such loose way.
Mr. Lewis's celebrity as a writer,
however unwilling we may be to concede it, remained rather local than general,
notwithstanding his superior endowments. But this is perhaps attributabhle
to circumstances beyond his control; for we know the aspirations of genius are
often governed by the stern demands of daily life. And one may
occasionally detect, evenin his better poems, passages that seem to have escaped
without due attention, inducing the impression that the labor had become
wearying, and relief been, sought, by the pleasant path of mere description,
from the severer realms of thought. Nude description, however, while it
may interest friends and neighbors, and those to whom the scenes described are
familiar and dear, can never attain the highest and most enduring fame.
Gray's Elegy could not have interested Daniel Webster, in his dying hour, as it
is said to have done, simply as a description of scenes at Stoke-Pogis. In
the great thoughts, so serenely, so simply, so truthfully expressed, lay the
real power that charmed and soothed the noble spirit from whose sight all the
beautiful things of earth were so rapidly fading. Yet the untaught
villager, who homeward plods his weary way athwart the glimmering landscape in
that now hallowed vicinage, looking not beyond the mere description, feels his
heart stirred at the bare mention of things dear to him as incidents of his
home. But when the poet takes his more extended course, ascending above mere
description into regions glowing with thought, where mankind meet beyond all
local limits, he at once attracts the attention of those whose minds have been
trained for the higher purposes of human life. Mr. Lewis was capable of
ascending to that lofty region, and had he more often directed his flight
thither would have secured a wider reputation. There are one or two
desirable qualities, however, with which Mr. Lewis was not largely endowed.
He had but little wit or humor - qualities so essential to adorn and
attract, and which can only be compensated for by the most eminent of the more
dignified attributes. He had pathos but it was liable to manifest itself
in such a form as to be mistaken for morbid sensibility.
After what has been said, it is
proper to introduce a few selections from his poems, making choice of such as,
on considerable reflection, are thought to convey the most clear idea of his
general inclination of thought, his style, and execution; having an eye,
likewise, to the illustration of his varying moods. Other pieces, however,
which appear in different parts of this volume - "The Frosted Trees," for
instance, introduced under date 1829, will not be overlooked. The first
five of the extracts that follow, are from longer pieces, the title-lines being
supplied.
LOVER'S LEAP.
Delightful Rock! that towering fair and high,
Like
fancy's vision rises on the view!
How
oft at eve, when gentle breezes sigh,
And
the sun sets from skies of cloudless blue,
The
youthful lover turns his steps to you,
As
anciently to famed Leucadia's shore!
While sweetest charms his joyful thoughts imbue,
As
summer tints spread out their smiling store,
And
winds through waving trees resound like ocean's roar.
It
is indeed a sweet romantic scene,
As
ever poet viewed at close of day!
The
spreading forest, clad in richest green,
The
joyful birds that tune their evening lay,
And
sing their sonnets on the slender spray,
The
lofty cliff, most beautiful to see,
Rising above the plain in bold array,
The
cheerful squirrel, chattering on the tree,
That
eats his food in peace, and chirps right merrily!
These, and a thousand beauties more, display
Their varied charms to greet the raptured sight;
While far along the streamlet winds its way
Through fertile fields, that glisten with delight,
And
clover plats, with flowers enamelled bright,
That
not a bee or butterfly will shun;
And
in our view throngs many a mansion white,
And
ploughman, journeying home, when day in done,
And
the bright windows blaze beneath the setting sun.
RELIGION - A COMPARISON.
High
in the north, behold the Pole Star rise,
Shining, like Virtue, through the darkened skies;
While round its orb the faithful Pointers veer,
And
aid the seaman his lone bark to steer.
So
o'er the waves of this inconstant life,
Above the storms of wo, and passion's strife,
Religion's star with ceaseless lustre glows,
To
lead the pilgrim to his last repose!
While, by the tossing deep, with friendly hand,
The
faithful ministers of Jesus stand,
Pointing aloft to that celestial ray,
Which shines to light the darkness of our way!
MAN'S CHANGES.
Man
only changes. Man, the foe of man,
Mars
the bright work eternal Love began.
Malignant passions in his bosom burn,
And
heaven's pure dews to noxious vapors turn.
As
desert fountains send their waters clear,
To
the bright flowers that on their banks appear,
But
through foul regions as they onward glide,
Collect dark stains, and roll a turbid tide;
So
gush pure thoughts in youth's extatic glow,
Which sink hi age to scenes of crime and wo.
MAN'S LIFE.
Our
youth is fleeting as the fleecy cloud
That
sails across the summer moon! and oh!
How
beautiful its prospects are! - how proud
The
young heart beats! - how warm the currents flow,
Ere
the strong veins have felt the power of wo!
But
soon dark clouds our smiling skies deform,
And
we are sad. Such is man's life below!
A
few dark days, a few long nights of storm,
A
few bright summer suns, all beautiful and warm.
SUMMER
RECREATION.
In
the sweet grove's romantic shade,
For
dearest joys of nature made,
With
a clear streamlet running by,
Whose mellowness relieves the eye,
While from it pour upon the ear
Such
notes as poets love to hear,
And
all around, and overhead,
Green leaves their soft refreshment shed,
How
sweet to sit, in summer day,
Far
from the sunbeam's scorching ray,
While not a fear can intervene
To
blight the beauty of the scene;
And
there, beside the whispering brook,
To
pause o'er some delightful book.
ON THE SEA SHORE.
Along thy sandy margin, level Sea!
I
wander with a feeling more sublime
Than
ever yet hath blest my heart, since
Time
Unfolded Nature's glorious pageantry!
And
in deep silence while I gaze on thee,
Thou
living picture of a mighty mind!
The
joys of hope and memory combined
Send
their soft raptures through my thrilling heart.
The
kindred scene recalls the memory
Of
friends with whom it was a pain to part,
Of
dear and early hours - then, with a start,
As
the wave ripples on the moonlit shore,
I
think of that high world, where Pain shall dart
Her
arrows through my heart and veins no more!
STORM AT NAHANT.
Call
up the Spirit of the ocean wave,
And
bid him rouse the storm! The billows roar
And
dash their angry surges on the shore!
Around the craggy cliffs the waters rave,
And
foam and welter on the trembling beach!
The,
plovers cry, and the hoarse curlews screech,
As,
borne along by the relentless storm,
With
turned-up wings they strive against the wind
The
storm-tost ship can no sure haven find,
But
black-browed Death, in his most horrid form,
Strides o'er the wave and bars her destined way.
The
wild winds in her shrouds their revels keep!
And
while the sailors seek the sheltering bay,
Their last cry mingles with the roaring deep.
THE EVENING BELL.
How
sweet and solemn is the sound,
From yonder lonely tower,
That
sends its deep-toned music round
At twilight's holy hour!
When
every sound of day is mute,
And all its voices still,
And
silence walks with velvet foot,
O'er valley, town, and hill.
When
every passion is at rest,
And every tumult fled,
And
through the warm and tranquil breast
The charm of peace is spread.
O,
then how sweet the solemn bell,
That tolls to evening prayer!
While each vibration seems to tell
That thou, O God, art there!
SONG.
O
Love! thou art a joyous thing,
In this cold world of ours!
And
yet how oft thy wayward wing
Leaves thorns instead of flowers!
Thy
rosy path is glowing bright,
With gems of heaven bestrewn;
Yet
thou canst mingle in thy might,
The dreaded thunder stone.
Earth were indeed a cheerless place,
Without thy soul-like smile;
And
thou hast that in thy bright face
Which can all ills beguile.
The
cold in heart may blame thy truth,
The void of soul may frown -
The
proud may seek to fetter youth,
And crush its feelings down -
Yet
still thou art the sweetest one
Of all the cherub train,
Whose task is given beneath the sun
To soothe the heart of pain.
The foregoing specimens afford
sufficient means whereby the reader may judge of the poetic talents of Mr.
Lewis. When he set himself seriously at work he produced verses compact
and polished. He was then rigidly artistic, fervor nor passion getting the
better of settled rule. And his best poems bear the strongest evidence of
the most elaborate preparation, affording further evidence that labor and
patience bestowed on composition are not wasted. In no case, excepting
where extraordinary genius leads the way, is it safe to trust to mere emotionary
flights. I think Dr. Channing somewhere advises young ministers or writers
to think deeply and then write rapidly. That he himself thought deeply is
evinced by the light that glows on every page; and he no doubt wrote rapidly;
but as to what followed, let the printers of his generation come up as
witnesses. His manuscript was interlined and re-interlined in such an
extraordinary manner that it was almost beyond the power of tan to
decipher. And after it was in print, he made appalling havoc on the
proof sheets. There were occasions when the proofs came from the Doctor's
hand so much disfigured by alterations that the distressed printer found it most
economical at once to distribute the types and re-set them. And when he
examined even a second or third proof, numerous changes continued to be made in
words and the collocation of sentences. But it was, without doubt, to this
excessive polishing that his fame for elegance of composition was in a great
degree attributable. His ideas were probably as fully expressed in the
first instance; but much of the magic effect flowed from the after marshalling
of the expressions. Prescott, if I mistake not, somewhere says that in the final
labor upon his works, he examined them sentence by sentence, to see if any
improvement could be made. A beautiful lady is a sweet object in almost
any garb; but when she appears handsomely and becbmingly clad, is most
admired. And so of other things.
There is seldom any thing
startling or vivid found in the poems of Mr. Lewis. But his descriptions
are animated, his expressions melodious, his rhymes good. There is a
delightful freshness about many of his illustrations; an enduring value in his
inculcations of purity and benevolence; a touching languor in his pensiveness; a
charming earnestness in his faith. It has sometimes occurred to me that
the severe criticism which appeared in the Cambridge Review, in 1831, had a
serious effect on him, and was the occasion of his being virtually driven from a
field he was so well fitted to adorn. No doubt that unfortunate paper was
conceived rather in a spirit of heedless sport than malevolence. And had
the writer seen the effect of his indiscretion that I saw, he certainly would
have deeply regretted that he had not chosen some less sensitive subject to
exercise his youthful satire upon. But had Mr. Lewis possessed the spirit
and resolution of a Byron, he might have put his assailant to open shame, and
turned the occurrence to the benefit of both.
Of Mr. Lewis's prose writings
nothing need be said in this connection. His entire history is embodied in
the pages of this volume; and his matter is so designated that it can be readily
distinguished.
He was
for some time a newspaper editor; but in that capacity was not particularly
successful, though he really made a useful and interesting sheet. Toward
opponents he was inclined to manifest acerbity, and was, withal, a little
egotistical. A certain amount of egotism really seems to set become ingly
on some people, and is useful to them, if accompanied by good nature and
employed with discretion; but as exercised by Mr. Lewis it can hardly be said to
have much improved him.
In his earlier manhood he made some attempts at fictitious prose writing.
But it was quite apparent that without severe discipline he could not succeed as
a novelist. Much of the charm of that species of literature consists in
well-sustained dialogue; and he did not seem able to divest himself of his own
individuality to an extent sufficient to make his colloquists appear
natural.
He exhibited
his poetical inclination in various ways besides the production of verses.
For every locality that charmed, either from inherent beauty or historic
association, he had an expressive name; for the solitary glen of the forest and
wild battlement of the shore he supplied a stirring legend; and many of the
creations of his wealthy imagination will endure as long as the objects they
adorn exist.
In the
material affairs of life Mr. Lewis was accustomed to take an eminently practical
view. He had an earnest desire to promote the permanent prosperity of his
native place; and many suggestions of his regarding the dry ramifications of
trade were not unprofitably heeded. His public spirit was for many years
conspicuous. As early as 1824 he began to labor for the protection of the
Beach, which he saw was in danger of being ultimately destroyed by the ravages
of the tide. He pertinaciously pressed for the erection of a substantial
granite wall, such as would at once prove a safeguard from the assaults of the
ocean, and a fitting embellishment of art to one of the most beautiful objects
of nature; and at one time he was much elated in the hope that government would
undertake the work. But he was destined never to be gratified, by the
sight of a more substantial and comely erection than a line of red cedars with
marine debris interwoven and flanked by an embankment of loose stones and
sand. The construction of the road to Nahant along the harbor side of the
Beach was an enterprise carried forward very much through his instrumentality;
and it was a measure of great public utility, as any one who has ever been
compelled by the tide to pursue his weary way upon the ridge, can testify.
The light-house on Egg Rock was also established more through his exertions than
those of any other. It is questionable, however, whether in this matter,
he did not allow his fancy to get the better of his judgment, as many have
always thought that a light on the point of Nahant would answer quite as good a
purpose, and be much more convenient. Yet it may not be true that the
convenient is always to be esteemed above the ornamental and picturesque.
The real question, without doubt, should be, which will in the largest degree
conduce to improvement and enjoyment. The City Seal was drawn by him, and
its emblematical representations afford evidence of his practical turn and
poetic conception; though the engraver should have suggested that something a
little more simple and clearly defined would have looked better.
It can not be said that the life
of Mr. Lewis was an eventful one. No more striking incidents attended his
career than fall to the common lot, with perhaps one or two exceptions. He
spent almost the whole of his days in his native place, only once or twice, and
then for brief periods, making his home elsewhere.
His worldly condition can hardly
be said ever to have greatly flourished. His mind was one that could not
be seduced to the pursuit of wealth, as a leading object. While a teacher,
his income was sufficient to supply all common wants, but insufficient to enable
him to lay any thing by for future necessities. And as in that capacity
the vigor of his life was spent, when he was compelled to resort to other
pursuits, his gains were often precarious. There were occasions, indeed,
when by his own declarations, he was not exempt from absolute want. In
November, 1860, only two months before his death, he writes, "my daily support
is a daily miracle." But it is not to be believed that he many times found
himself in any thing like an extremity of want, surrounded as he was by those
who would have deemed it a privilege to minister to his necessities, but who,
from feelings of delicacy, might not, under mere suspicion, make proffers that
they feared he would, in a moody moment, repulse as obtrusions.
The mind of Mr. Lewis was of a
peculiarly sensitive texture, and constantly disturbed by what to most persons
would seem but trivial occurrences. He was likewise keenly alive to the
opinions of others; and his thirst for praise almost assumed the form of an
absolute disease; yet his mind was of too high an order to be satisfied with the
cheap compliments that were bestowed upon him. And in his case was
furnished a notable instance of a longing for that which, when attained, had no
power to satisfy. Some minds are of such noble quality that they receive
the praise of the mean, vulgar, and wicked, as an indignity. But it is
quite as much as can be expected of most people, that they look with
indifference on the censure or praise of the wrong minded. And if Mr.
Lewis had disciplined himself to this he would have passed a great many more
happy hours. Constituted as he was, it will be perceived that he could not
always be at peace with those around him, for few are accustomed to overlook
demands engendered by such a temper, demands which might not unfrequently be put
forth with asperity and petulance. But beneath his sometimes unpromising
surface there always dwelt that which was really noble and congenial; and many a
cultivated mind has passed with him intervals of sweet and profitable communion.
It is not worth while to
deny that every one loves to see his name in honorable, connection, in print.
And in a local history, almost every person who has in any way made
himself conspicuous, expects that his name will appear. I have heard Mr.
Lewis censured for not noticing this or that individual, as if his silence arose
from prejudice. But the complaints were as likely, perhaps, to have had
their origin in wounded pride as in an honest desire that the most healthful
examples should be presented. Reflection will convince every reasonable
person that many are conspicuous in ways that it would do no good to celebrate,
and that multitudes who are known only in the most circumscribed sphere are more
deserving of having their names perpetuated. The historian must himself
act as judge in all such matters, and is presumed to have a conscientious
appreciation of his responsibilities. And he far better shows his
integrity by silence than by elevating the unworthy, who, from some meretricious
surroundings have become objects of momentary observation. That Mr. Lewis
had strong antipathies and prejudices, his most ardent friends would not
deny. But that he was unable to exercise sufficient control over them to
prevent their having an influence in the preparation of his History, we will not
admit.
He had a kind
heart, and few were more ready to aid others, though his interest might be
compromised by his benevolence. He never turned his back upon such as came
recommended by misfortune. And numberless good offices did he perform
without the hope of reward and without receiving even the cheap return of
gratitude. Still more; many and many a time was he subjected to the severe
trial of suffering the taunts of those in prosperity whom he had befriended in
adversity; a trial so much beyond the common limit of human endurance that the
mind which can escape unembittered must be more than ordinary. And when,
under such trials, he was led to complain, his complaints should not so often
have been regarded as the mere ebullitions of a diseased sensibility. In
the piece just quoted from he says, "Within a short time I have been taunted in
the street for my poverty."
That large class of unenlightened
men who are ruled by the love of money are accustomed to view the poor, however
meritorious or exalted by genius, with disdain. But the men of genius,
even while they can really feel nothing but contempt toward their arrogant
brethren, generally have sufficient sagacity to avoid offending them, as from
them they may, by that flattery which always reaches the vulgar mind, derive
benefits - the flattery which supposes intellectual superiority. But Mr.
Lewis's mind was not one that could easily yield to the airs of the
supercilious, and hence he often subjected himself to indignities where the
cringing would have received favors. He says, "If I, like others, had
devoted my life solely to my own interest, I might now be reveling in wealth;
but your hundred thousand dollar men, who never knew what it was to want a meal
of victuals, can have no idea of him who has to support a family without
means." This is a mournful truth; but Mr. Lewis was not the man to make it
known in a way to ensure relief. In his complaints, which he occasionally
put forth in the public prints, he was rather inclined to take a step beyond the
sublime in pathos, and his emotional extravagances excited feelings very
different from pity. Witness the following: "I have spent more than forty
years in endeavoring to convince the world that love is the essence of true
religion, and no person ever lived in Lynn who has been so much abused,
lampooned and traduced as I." He probably wrote this in a moment of
excitement occasioned by the taunt of some vulgar assailant, who by most men of
his understanding would have been passed by unnoticed; and he should not have
hastened to a printing office and sent it forth under his own hand; for the
truth is that it would be difficult to point to another individual in the whole
history of Lynn, who presented himself as such a shining mark, and escaped with
so little lampooning.
Mr. Lewis was eminently what is called a self-made man; and to his industry and
perseverence as much as to his natural gifts was his success in the way of fame
to be attributed. But it may be assuming something to say that industry
and perseverence are not as much natural gifts as any others, though usually
they are spoken of rather as habits. Indeed is it not true that the great
majority of those who are conspicuous, not to say illustrious, in the world,
have no intellectual superiority over the
mass of those by whom they are surrounded, but are raised by vigorous and
continued effort in the pursuit of a definite object? But not many possess
that earnest persistency without which very few indeed can ascend the heights of
renown. And how many, be it repeated, feel, all their lives that they have
that within, which, if developed, would exalt, but who yet dream their lives
away, finding at the close that they have but floated along, with the common
tide, day by day gilding their dreams with the expectation that the time was
approaching when they were to arouse and valiantly pursue the upward career.
It seem as if there were a destiny shaping our ends.
A great poet has said that
Providence prepared a niche for every man. But if that be the case, one is
almost constrained to believe that it was left for each to find his own, and
that most niches had, through blindness or perversity, become filled by wrong
occupants. Somehow early habits, social attractions, or drear misfortune
seem to have intervened to prevent what might have been, and we behold the wit
of a Voltaire spent in raising a laugh among sooty-faced workmen; the reflection
of a Newton in calculating the moves on a greasy checker-board; the skill of a
Linnmus in arranging posies for a country lass. These are incidents which
appear among the mysteries of human life; and there are others. Do we not
every day behold in high places of honor and trust multitudes who would better
become the miller's frock or fisherman's fear-naught; in the pulpit and at the
bar numbers who should never have looked beyond the lumber woods or arable
fields for their spheres of usefulness?
Under the baleful influence of an
inordinate love of money, many denounce the person who is not constantly toiling
in some pursuit the end of which is mere pecuniary gain, as indolent, or in some
way deluded. And if they are able to perceive and appreciate any thing of
intellectual superiority or moral exaltation, they avoid an open and honest
recognition of it, affecting to despise what they cannot attain. And the
world's censures drive many timid souls from the higher path of duty and
enjoyment. It must have been delightful to the mind of Mr. Lewis, as it is
to every enlightened mind, to divest itself of the clogging interests of the
present and flee to the communion of the noble and virtuous of the past.
Most men live only in the present, having no apprehension of their power to
enjoy extended lives, lives reaching back to times over which multiplied years
have thrown a lustrous veil. But the intelligent lover of history has this
illimitable field of enjoyment open before him; here he holds communion with the
better representatives of our race, undisturbed by the agitations of active life
around him; here he comes, a quiet spectator of the great drama which has been
performing ever since the world began. While the selfish and sordid see no
benefit or enjoyment in thus reverting to the past, the philosopher and
philanthropist deem it among the most useful and elevating occupations of
mankind. It has been said that were it not for the historian or the bard,
the greatest name would soon pass into oblivion. And without the historian
or the bard the most brilliant era would soon become obscured. To them is
the world indebted for the safe transmission of all that is worthy of being
handed along from age to age, for the preservation of noble names and useful
knowledge. And do not these reflections suggest that our little community
owes a debt of gratitude to the Historian and Bard who labored to maintain a
record of her worthies and to perpetuate a memory of her pleasant scenes?
That Mr. Lewis himself had a
more than ordinary craving for posthumous fame is not to be denied. And
with such a longing it is not remarkable that he should have been willing to
labor without the hope of any such reward as with most people would be the
incentive to diligence. While in a strictly moral sense such a craving may
not be applauded, it yet may make the possessor an instrument of much good.
And in the case of our friend, the beneficial results were very great.
A mind constituted like his derives much pleasure from the pursuit of its
darling object. And he no doubt received the most satisfactory
compensation for his toil in the conviction that his fame would survive and his
name be lauded through generation after generation. And his name and his
fame will survive - survive and be green in the memory of men long after the
great multitude of those of our community who proudly conceived themselves
essential to the welfare of the world, are forgotten; though a better fate will
attend the names of those few whose meritorious acts gave them a place in his
History.
Multitudes
begin a good course with energy, pursue it to a certain point, and then relax
their efforts, having gained, as they would have it, the point for which they
strove. And these, having set their standard too low, quit the world
without having accomplished half that was in their power. And it is
doubtful whether Mr. Lewis should not be ranked among these. He certainly
did not do all he was capable of doing. After the production of'his larger
volume of Poems, and his History, he seemed to feel as if his work were chiefly
done. His mind, though it returned often and lingered fondly about the
pleasant paths of literature, appeared soon to weary and turn to other pursuits.
But circumstances that he could not govern may have enforced this seeming
indifference, for he says, referring to a proposed new edition of his History,
"In the morning I set about the History of Lynn, but my wife comes in and
inquires, 'What are we going to have for dinner?' "- an inquiry which
certainly might, under the embarrassments of real penury, be expected to have a
depressing effect. As a general thing, small pecuniary returns attend
literary labor. And praise is better calculated to satisfy an empty head
than an empty stomach. The two editions of his History, Mr. Lewis
asserted, in a newspaper article, in 1860, were published at a loss. In a
Lynn paper of the 22d of June, 1844, which was a few weeks before the issuing of
the second edition, the editor remarks "We are informed by Mr. Lewis that he
began at the pond on the Common and went to Emes's factory, in Sangus, and
obtained only fifteen subscribers." And it is not at all probable that he
was more successful with his Poems than with his History, for the market value
of prose is generally above that of poetry.
Such were the contrarieties of
temper possessed by Mr. Lewis, that he was like no other man; and it was common
for even his intimate friends to remark that they did "not know how to take
him." It would be difficult to analyze his character, and unfair to
examine it by any but the most flexible rules.
In early life he had turns of
dejection. And after he had arrived at manhood, similar turns, in two
instances, matured into insanity, and it was found necessary to place him in an
asylum. But in his later years, the turns were rather of irritability than
dejection.
And this
seems a proper place to state that some of the friends of Mr. Lewis have thought
that his whole after character was affected by an affair of the heart which
transpired in youth. He had become ardently attached to a young lady who
could not reciprocate his tender impressions. And when he became convinced
that it would be fruitless to prosecute his suit, a period of deep depression
supervened, weighing down his spirits for months. The details of such
affairs are not often made public; and as the pain is endured in sacred privacy
few can readily perceive, in a given case, the sufficiency of the cause for the
effect. The world is altogether too apt to scoff at such occurrences, and
by unfeeling taunts increase the anguish of the wounded heart; they pity one who
has lost a few dollars, but for the yearning heart that cannot attain its
dearest object have nothing better than a sneer. There was certainly
something in the character of Mr. Lewis that bore likeness to one thus affected.
He had times of sadness when outward affairs seemed brightest, and times of
irritability, apparently arising from a disturbance of the contemplation of
softened memories.
In
religion, Mr. Lewis was somewhat vacillating, at least so far as the outward
manifestation was concerned, he having at different times joined various
professing bodies - the Calvinistic Congregationalists, Methodists, and Quakers,
for instance. But he never swerved from a cordial acceptance of the
christian faith, and for the best part of his life was a member of the
Protestant Episcopal Church, doing much to sustain the early footholds of
Episcopal worship in Lynn. I should judge from his occasional remarks,
that among his accepted doctrines was that of predestination, in an enlarged
sense, though it did not appear day by day to yield in him its ripest fruits,
for it seems to be a doctrine, which, whether true or false, if fully and
cordially embraced, must impart a very great degree of rest and comfort to the
mind. So long as a man imagines himself capable of shaping his own
destiny, he will remain restless and unsatisfied. But if he sincerely
believes himself the chosen instrument to work out the will of a beneficent
Superior, and has disciplined himself to the docile performance of his behests
he will feel an indescribable freedom from disturbing cares and distrusts.
If his condition is humble he is contented, because he is there, a
necessary link in the great chain that binds time to eternity, dim for a while,
but perhaps in the course of events to become as bright as any. If he is
in affluence he feels no pride, because no merit of his own placed him there;
and though the same Providence that assigned to him his present position may
hereafter have a very different one for him to occupy, he feels prepared
courageously to meet what he cannot escape. The hearty predestinarian is
unassuming in prosperity, patient in adversity, unmoved amid the greatest
calamities, heroic on the redest battle field. What did the doctrine do
for the early New England settlers - what for the champions of the English
Commonwealth? But there is such a propensity to throw the shadows of a
grim and exacting theology over it, when all should be trustful, bright, and
hopeful, that it becomes cheerless and repulsive to many a warm heart. To
such a mind as that of Mr. Lewis, it seems as if, in its full acceptance
and effect, it must have been an inexhaustible source of comfort.
There was nothing particularly
striking in the personal appearance of Mr. Lewis; yet he would generally have
been noticed as one of marked character. He was of medium height, good
form, and erect carriage. His head was large, his forehead high, his eye
bright. He had a pleasant smile, but seldom indulged in a hearty laugh.
During most of his manhood, he closely shaved his beard; but for his last
few years that dignified appendage was allowed to take its natural course, with
now and then a slight trimming. Up to middle life he was rather more than
ordinarily careful in the matter of dress, though never foppish. But in
his latter days he hardly paid that attention to exterior appearance becoming
one in his position. He never, however, appeared in a garb that the
fastidious need call unseemly. Black, the more genteel color of the day,
he seldom chose, preferring gray or some other modest mixture. A cloth cap
or low-crowned hat usually adorned his head.
He was thoughtful, but not
abstracted; and whether in company or in the street, nothing worthy of remark
was liable to escape his notice. He was fond of attending scientific,
philanthropic, and other lectures, and often, when a fit occasion presented,
took the opportunity to express his approval or disapproval of what was
uttered. And he was not opposed to any rational amusement.
His constitution was naturally
good, and capable of great endurance, as the severe tests to which he was
subjected in his surveying excursions, during the inclement seasons, abundantly
proved. About two years before his decease, he greatly failed in health,
though he kept about, and to a considerable extent attended to his ordinary
duties. His supposition was that he had been poisoned, while surveying in
the woods. His final disease, however, was softening of the brain.
It is not likely that he suffered much pain, and his last hours were passed in
an unconscious state.
In
his picturesque little cot by the sea side he breathed his last, on Monday the
21st of January, 1861 - the little cot, reared partly by his own hands, which
had been his home for many years; where he loved to study and to muse; to watch
the serene light that proclaimed the peace of nature, or the weird mist that
heralded the roaring storm; where the spent waves, whispering beneath his
window, calmed his spirit for nightly repose, and the solemn pulsations of the
mighty deep swelled in majestic harmony with the lone throbs of his poetic soul;
where the wail of his ocean dirge may still be heard; and where he penned these
entreating though unheeded lines.
O,
bury me not in the dark old woods,
Where the sunbeams never shine;
Where mingles the mist of the mountain floods
With the dew of the dismal pine!
But
bury me deep by the bright blue sea,
I have loved in life so well;
Where the winds may come to my spirit free,
And the sound of the ocean shell.
O,
bury me not in the churchyard old,
In the slime of the doleful tomb!
Where my bones may be thrust, ere their life is cold,
To the damp of a drearier gloom!
But
bury me deep by the bright blue sea,
Where the friends whom I loved have been;
Where the sun may shine on the grass turf free,
And the rains keep it over green!
Mr. Lewis was buried from
the Central Congregational meeting-house, in Silsbe street, on Wednesday, the
23d of January. The day was cloudy, damp and chill, and there was
a singularly small attendance. The house was cold, the services were
brief, and attended by no special solemnity. Some passages of Scripture
were read, the choir sang a few appropriate strains, and an extemporaneous
prayer was offered. But no eulogy or discourse of any kind was
uttered. The remains were exposed to view, for a short time, in the porch,
and thence conveyed to their last resting place, in the Old Burying Ground near
the west end of the Common, where his father and mother lay.
And so passed from earth ALONZO
LEWIS, the historian and bard of Lynn - a man who labored much for the good of
others, and especially rejoiced in the prosperity of his native place who in life was often called to drink of a
bitter cup, but who, God grant, may have an overflowing cup of joy in the world
to which he has gone.
|
DANIEL COLLINS BAKER. 1816-1863. |
Mr. Baker was born in Lynn on the
12th of October, 1816, and was a son of Elisha Baker. His parents were
Quakers, and he was a pupil at the Friends' Boarding School, in Providence, R.
I. On the 19th of December, 1838, he married Augusta, a daughter of John
B. Chase, the ceremony taking place according to the custom of the Friends; but
he did not continue in the faith of his fathers. He had three children -
William E., Helen, and Sarah E.
Mr. Baker was a man of great
activity in business, and stood so well at the time the Howard Banking Company,
of Boston, went into operation, that he was chosen its president. Good
fortune, however, did not always attend his operations; and particularly by the
disastrous termination of the great Nahant Hotel project he met with
considerable loss.
For
some years he was a zealous politician, and frequently in office. In 1849
and '50 he was elected to the Senate; at the organization of our first City
Government he was chosen President of the Common Council; and in 1853, he was
elected Mayor. As a presiding officer, he stood high, disposing of
business with facility and demeaning himself with great courtesy.
Mr. Baker was a little inclined to
display, and joined heartily in public entertainments and political
demonstrations. He was liberal in sentiment, free in expenditure,
convivial in habit, and had a kind heart, He built the fine residence on
Franklin street, opposite Laighton, and resided there for a number of
years. His death took place on the 19th of July, 1863, at New Orleans,
where he had been doing business for some months.
|
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN NEWHALL. 1802-1863 |
Mr.
Newhall was born in that part of Lynn now constituting Saugtus, on the 29th of
April,. 1802. He was a son of Jacob, who was born November 1, 1780, and
was a son of Jacob, known as Landlord Newhall, who was born May 3, 1740, and was
a son of Locker, who was born November 12, 1708, and was a son of Jacob, who was
born March 27, 1686, and was a grandson of Thomas, the first white person born
in Lynn.
The
circumstances of Mr. Newhall's father were such, that he was early taught the
necessity of self-dependence; and naturally possessing an inclination to
accumulate, he soon formed habits of industry and frugality. But in his
first labors he had a higher incentive to diligence than the selfish one of mere
accumulation. The necessities of a loving mother with other helpless
children, stimulated him to the most strenuous exertion.
Some time before his death he
prepared a sort of autobiography, in which many of his early struggles and
experiences are detailed in a manner always interesting and often affecting; and
an occasional passage from it will add much to the value of this sketch.
The following, which is found under date 1815, and relates to his mother, can
hardly fail to be read with emotion. And who will not be ready to say that
with such a mother, a child who would not
do his best must be hopelessly perverse. The growth of the religious element,
which was so conspicuous in his character throughout all his active life, and
which often attracted the attention of his business associates, is easily
accounted for. He says:
How well do I remember in the late
hours of night, when father was away and her dear ones were sleeping, that she
would come to my bed-side, and kneeling with overflowing heart pour out her soul
in prayer that God would preserve her darling boy from the snares so thick
around him. She thought I was asleep, but I was awake and the silent tear
moistened my young cheek, and I avowed before God, that a mother's prayers
should not be in vain. How often she thus kneeled at my bed-side when I
was asleep, I know not, but doubtless quite often.
How many times I wished that I
were older, and had some good work so that I could support her. I
frequently entreated her for work, but not shoemaking, as I could not like
that. I often used to go into the chocolate mill, and soon learned to
handle the pans, paper the chocolate, and do other light work. I liked it,
and begged her to get me a chance in the mill. But she told me that only
men worked there. I was sorry, but not disheartened.
He
however got a chance in the mill, and then commenced his first regular work,
though he had previously assisted his father a little in the shoemaker's shop.
But he had a great dislike for shoemaking. At this time he was
thirteen years old.
Autumn came, and the chocolate
making commenced early and promised well. I implored my mother to get me
work. She went to Mr. Childs and told her story. He said if I could
work well I might come in. Well! I knew what I could do, and never was a
boy better pleased than I when I heard the decision. My mother made me a
frock of a cocoa bag, and I was proud as a king. Never shall I forget the
day when all arrayed I marched to the mill and went to work. Old - and -
were the men. [The names are all given in the manuscript, but for obvious
reasons should not all appear in print.] --- drank a great deal of rum, and was cross and
ugly; but I was determined to please him, for I knew that there all my hopes
depended; he was master, and what he said was law; even Mr. Childs dared not
dispute him. When he spoke, I sprang, and ran, obeying his every
nod. Besides that, I did the very work he wished me to do, and no
other. I soon got his good will, and he was always kind to me.
But to come back to the work. I, a
boy not fourteen years old, and the business requiring labor night and day,
found it hard. To go to work at sunset and continue till sunrise, four
nights in the week, I could scarcely endure, and sometimes declared - "This
shall be my last night." But when the beautiful sun shone in the morning I
felt better, and encouraged to go on. I hated shoemaking, and was yet
determined to earn something for my mother. If I could earn eighty-three
cents a day by working night and day, it was to me a great sum. I now
think that such labor for a boy was too much; but I was ambitious. My
mother often wept at my exposure and extreme labor; and perhaps I am now reaping
the harvest grown from the seed then sown. Sometimes she would say that
the work was too hard, and I had better quit it; but I could not think of it;
work I must, and work I would. Mr. Childs would stand and look with
astonishment to see me paper the chocolate so much faster than was ever done
before. From the beginning to the end of a week I did not get into a bed.
When the tide was over we would spread the hot cocoa, and throwing a bag over it
make it a bed. In cold weather, the steaming cocoa was inviting; but I now
think its effects were bad. But with all the hard work and suffering, I
got through my first winter at the mill; how I bore the fatigue God only knows;
some unseen hand supported me; and when I was just on the point of giving up,
several times, some impulse of mind forbade it. God helped me.
Passing
on to 1818, when he was sixteen years old, we find him still persevering in
labor, stimulated by the same high motives.
In the spring of 1818, having got
through with mill work, my mother engaged me to go to work for Jesse Rice, on
Nahant. So the next morning I started for my new field of labor. I
was pleased with the idea, and thought how pleasant it would be to work at
Nahant in summer. My labor was farming I went to work with earnestness,
but soon found that Mr. Rice needed an experienced farmer and a strong
man. I could not hold a heavy plough, with two yoke of oxen; I had not
learned to, and was not stout enough; Mr. Rice saw it and was sorry; and so was
I. After a week's trial, he told me that the work was beyond my strength,
and I had better seek some lighter labor. He said that when I grew older
and stouter I might come again. I thanked him, he paid me well, and I
returned home.
This
season I learned to blow rocks; and the work being new, I took hold in
earnest. For a while I did not charge the rocks, but before long I learned
to, and could do it as well as any body.
I think it was in June [1818] that
Mr. Smith sent for me to go up and tend the "chipper." This was a machine
to cut up the small blocks of cam-wood, to chips, so that they could be ground.
It was a dangerous machine, and several had already been injured by it.
Smith cautioned me to be very careful; and the caution was well given.
I have often wondered how my mother dared to risk me at such dangerous
work. All went on well enough for a while. I thought myself master
of the business and grew heedless. One day in carelessness I put my left
thumb under the axe, and cut it off. I started, and could hardly believe
my thumb was lost, having scarcely noticed the accident by the pain; a pin's
prick would have hurt me more. I took the severed member, put it on its
place, and started for the house, holding it on. Smith saw me coming; I
saw him, and remembering his caution, laughed. He said, "You have cut off
your fingers." I went in, sat down, and he took a good sized needle and
thread and seved it on. I bore it
pretty well, and after it was done started for home. My mother was sorry,
and wept, and at once sent me down to Dr. John Lummus, that he might look at
it. He examined it and expressed some doubt about saving the thumb, but
said he would try. The night following was dreadful, I slept none, and in
the morning went down to the Doctor's again, repeating my visits to him for
several successive days. Finally the severed thumb was cast into the fire,
and the wound dressed; and it was nearly two months before I got well.
The
foregoing is sufficient to give an idea of the early struggles of this more than
ordinary man. And we must pass on again, till we reach the year 1825, when
he was twenty-three years of age, about which time, in company with
another, he commenced a small trading establishment in Canada, Thither he made
two or three journeys. But on the whole they were unsuccessful, and the
enterprise was abandoned. After various other trials, successes, and
mishaps, he arrives at the age of twenty-eight. He had now, 1830, just
returned from Canada, having closed up there, and goes on to speak of his
condition, prospects, and determination, as follows:
I reached
home in safety the next day, and found all well as usual. I was glad to
get once more where I was known, though I hardly knew what to do with the debts
which I owed on the store business. However, by the assistance of my uncle
Makepeace I paid up the small debts, and got one or two of the largest creditors
to wait. The next step was to get into some business, that I might support
my family. The shoe business presented the fairest prospect, as I thought;
so I hired a small room in the upper part of what is now the Henry Nichols
house, got trusted for one bundle of leather from Isaac Bassett and a dozen of
kid from John Lovejoy, and hired of John Emerton fifty dollars, giving him a
mortgage on my horse and wagon for security. With this small outfit I went
to work, fully determined that nothing on my part should be wanting to ensure
success. I kept an exact account of all I bought and sold, so that I might
at any time know whether I was making a profit. Every thing in business
was as dull as could be and workmen were hard to be got. But perseverance
and prudence were my motto. After three months of close application, I
found a little had been made. This was to me encouraging, and I labored
on. Never shall I forget how hard it was to sell shoes in Boston. The
seller had to beg, and be insulted besides. But no discouragements
deterred me; and I now look back and see a kind and overruling Providence in
all.
I considered this
the beginning of life with me, and felt determined to succeed, if prudence and
economy would ensure success. I began with the determination not to give a
note if I could avoid it. So, buying as I did, on a credit, I let accounts
run six months, and then contrived to settle them either by giving some business
note which I took, or making the payment in cash. After a short time I
made my plan work well. The first of January and the first of July, in
every year, were to be my settling times with every one. Most of my accounts
would then have run six months, and I was entitled to three months more clear
credit on a note. When the first of January came I had passed all my fall
sales, and had notes or cash for the same. When the first of July came I
had made all my spring sales, and had cash and notes for them. So the
advantage of fixing on these dates for settlements will be seen. I could
then endorse the business paper that I had taken and thus settle all my bills,
or could get notes discounted and pay the cash. I got this machinery of
business well established, and never deviated from it in all the time that I
followed the business. Thomas Raddin had then got into a fair business and
had established a good credit at the Commercial Bank, in Salem, and he
introduced me to the president, Willard Peele, Esq., and thus I obtained the
advantage of getting a discount as often as I wanted one. This was every
thing to me, as money matters were then situated. I was very punctual in
all my payments, and so my credit grew better and better.
It would
be instructive as well as interesting to follow him in his business operations
all the way up till the time when he became firmly established as one of the
most successful, shrewd, and wealthy business men in the vicinity, and speak
more at large of his integrity, promptness, perseverance, and industry; but
allotted space will not permit. His projects were often bold, but never
characterized by that reckless adventure so often seen among those who make
haste to be rich. He by no means confined himself to one kind of business,
but commonly, to use an expressive phrase, had several irons in the fire at the
same time; yet he was so active and watchful that none appeared to suffer for
want of attention.
Mr.
Newhall's education was procured at the common school, with the exception of a
short attendance at the New Market Academy, and the more important exception of
his own private application. He was qualified to teach in the common
schools of the time, when he was a young man, and did teach, for one or two
brief periods, before he became settled in business.
The religious element was always
strong in his mind. He became a professing Christian while a youth, joined
the Methodist connection, and preached a little before he had attained his
majority. He however, some years afterward, swerved from the faith he
first professed and became a Universalist. He was a man of strictly moral
life and a friend to all enterprises calculated to promote morality and
education. In public affairs he took a warm interest, and originated a
number of beneficial projects.
On the 25th of April, 1825, he
married Miss Dorothy Jewett, of Hebron, Ct., and had six children - Benjamin,
Charles J., Herbert B., Wilbur F., Ellen M., and Alice A.
He was a man of medium stature,
and in the prime of life was active in his movements, and capable of enduring
much fatigue and exposure. But for two or three years before his death, he
suffered greatly from chronic rheumatism, which reduced him to the sad condition
of a cripple. He kept about as long as possible, but for many months was
almost the whole time confined to his room, and much of the time to his bed.
It was a sore trial to him, for his mind was as vigorous as ever.
Yet he bore his affliction with a patience and resignation seldom witnessed,
though his pains were at times excruciating. He often sat up in bed to
write down his thoughts, to read, or arrange those worldly matters which he knew
were soon to pass into other hands. He died on Tuesday, the 13th of
October, 1863.
It now
remains to speak of Mr. Newhall as a writer. He wrote a great many
articles, in prose and poetry, which appeared in the newspapers; some of which
attracted considerable attention. If all that emanated from his prolific
pen could be gathered together, volumes might be filled; and among it would be
found much of sterling value. But it must be said that he wrote too much
to do full justice to himself - that he did not always take sufficient time to
investigate and consider his subjects. But a great portion of what he
wrote was elicited by occurrences of temporary interest, and not expected to
possess an enduring value. He however wiote many pieces that were never
published, some of which would undoubtedly do credit to his memory, should they
appear in print.
The
most valuable of his published prose writings were his Historical Sketches of
Saugus, which appeared in numbers, in the Lynn Weekly Reporter; commencing in
December, 1858, and continuing on through two or three years. They did not
claim to be a connected history, but were rather a collection of facts,
traditions, and reminiscences, interspersed with descriptive passages,
reflections, and suggestions. They were exceedingly interesting; and had
he been more exact in his statements, instead of so frequently referring this or
that event to about such a time, would
have possessed greater value. But that exactness is just what requires the
greatest labor at the historian's hand; and he had not the time to spare in such
gratuitous service. He did more than could have been expected, and has
furnished a vast number of hints and much useful matter for some future
historian.
He commenced
a dalliance with the Muses at an early age, and became quite a skillful
versifier. Under date 1819, at which time he was seventeen years old, he
says:
There was in the neighborhood an
old maid called Betty Brown. She was a great tattler, or at least had the
reputation of being one. And so I wrote my first verse:
Betty Brown is of renown,
Throughout the neighborhood,
Tells all
she knows, Where'er she goes,
But
never tells no good.
It
will be observed that I had never studied grammar, to understand it, and did not
then see that in my first verse I was violating a very important grammatical
rule. But no matter; it was my first effort.
He wrote
on all subjects and had a happy faculty of adapting his style to his matter -
being grave or gay as occasion required. But he had too much natural
kindness of heart often to be severe. His rhymes were usually good, and at
times showed considerable ingenuity. In some pieces there ran a pleasant
vein of quiet humor which now and then broke up in a flash of satire.
The religious element so
conspicuous in his character, has been referred to. It produced in the
weary and painful hours of his last sickness much comfort; making him patient
under his sufferings, and inspiring a confident expectation of a happy issue out
of all afflictions. The following pieces bear evidence of a devotional,
trusting, and thankful spirit, and are, I think, fair specimens of his poetry.
The one entitled "Lines on My Sixtieth Birth-day," I believe he considered
his best piece. There certainly are some passages in it worthy of being
read and re-read. But it should be remarked that authors are not usually
the best judges of their own productions. Circumstances unknown or
unappreciated by the reader may give them a fictitious value in the mind of the
writer. The other piece - that entitled "Answered Prayer," was dictated
when prostrate upon his bed, a few days before his death. It was his last
piece.
LINES ON MY SIXTIETH BIRTH-DAY.
[APRIL 29, 1862.]
How noiselessly the wheels of
time have rolled along their way,
And brought once more
- perhaps the last - my cherished natal day,
Which on
the dial-plate of time, counts up the three score years,
Some brightened by a sunny smile, and some bedewed by
tears.
Just three score
years have passed away, since I, a baby boy,
First
pressed that dear maternal breast, and gave a mother joy
And made a father's heart rejoice, with pure paternal love.
But those warm hearts have ceased to beat - their
home is now above.
I yet
remain; but oh, how changed; the child of three score years
I cannot recognize at all in that which now appears;
And were it not for consciousness that I am still the same,
I should suppose the change complete in all except the
name.
But what are three
score years to me? Although the life of man,
'T is
only, in the web of life, the tiny infant's span,
The
lightning's flash, the arrow's flight, the dew upon the spray,
Today't is here,
tomorrow gone - thus life is passed away,
The tender ties of early days, which rendered life so
sweet,
The weight of three score years have crushed
beneath its giant fee
Leaving a loving heart in grief
bowed down beneath its weight,
Adopting, as a last
recourse, submission to its fate.
Few ties remain - how dear to me - they now surround my bed
To wipe away the gathering tear, and soothe my aching
head;
A precious boon - a gift of heaven - a treasure
more than gold
They smooth each day, life's rugged way,
as I am growing old.
What mixture in the cup of life, which I so long have
quaffed,
How joy and grief, and smiles and tears, have
mingled in the draft
But I have almost drained the cup;
and little now remains,
Excepting life's infirmities,
its sufferings, and its pains.
Whatever ills may yet betide, howe'er disease and pain
May rack this mortal tenement, O, may I not complain,
But humbly rest in God's right hand till life's short race
is run,
And say, with my expiring breath, Thy will, O
Lord, be done
ANSWERED PRAYER.
For
many years my prayer hath been,
That I might end this mortal race,
Without severe and torturing pain,
And, calm and easy, die in peace.
And
now the Lord hath heard my prayer,
Assuaged my pains so oft severe,
And
given my frail body rest,
The little time that I am here.
I'll give Him praise, while life and strength
Shall let me speak my gratitude,
And
with my last expiring breath,
I'll calmly breathe - the Lord is good.
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