guard you against any acquaintance with that description of people, as it will, sooner or later, have a most corrupting effect on the morals, and, as a man is known by the company he keeps, I should be very sorry to have you enrolled with such society, however pure you may believe his morals to be.
“Your father and myself were eleven days in company with him in coming from Charleston, South Carolina. His behavior was quite unexceptionable then, but he is in a situation to ruin the best morals. I hope you do not attend the theatre, as I have ever considered it a most bewitching amusement, and ruinous both to soul and body. I would therefore guard you against it.”
His brother Richard joined the rest of the family in urging the young and impulsive artist to leave politics alone, as we learn from the following words which begin a letter of November 27, 1813:–
MY DEAR BROTHER,–Your letters by the Neptune, and also the medal, gave us great pleasure. The politics, however, were very disagreeable and occupied no inconsiderable part of your letters. Your kind wishes for _our_ reformation we must beg leave to retort by hoping for _your_ speedy amendment.
There are gaps in the correspondence of this period. Many of the letters from both sides of the Atlantic seem never to have reached their destination, owing to the disturbed state of affairs arising from the war between the two countries.
The young artist had gone in October, 1813, to Bristol, at the earnest solicitation of friends in that city, and seems to have spent a pleasant and profitable five months there, painting a number of portraits. He refers to letters written from Bristol, but they were either never received or not preserved. Of other letters I have only fragments, and some that are quoted by Mr. Prime in his biography have vanished utterly. Still, from what remains, we can glean a fairly good idea of the life of the young man at that period. His parents continually begged him to leave politics alone and to tell them more of his artistic life, of his visits to interesting places, and of his intercourse with the literary and artistic celebrities of the day.
We, too, must regret that he did not write more fully on these subjects, for there must have been a mine of interesting material at his disposal. We also learn that there seems to have been a strange fatality attached to the little statuette of the “Dying Hercules,” for, although he packed it carefully and sent it to Liverpool on June 18, 1813, to be forwarded to his parents, it never reached them until over two years later. The superstitious will say that the date of sending may have had something to do with this.
Up to this time everything, except the attitude of England towards America, had been _couleur de rose_ to the enthusiastic young artist. He was making rapid progress in his studies and was receiving the encomiums of his fellow artists and of the critics. His parents were denying themselves in order to provide the means for his support, and, while he was duly appreciative of their goodness, he could not help taking it more or less as a matter of course. He was optimistic with regard to the future, falling into the common error of gifted young artists that, because of their artistic success, financial success must of necessity follow. He had yet to be proved in the school of adversity, and he had not long to wait. But I shall let the letters tell the story better than I can. The last letter from him to his parents from which I have quoted was written on August 12 and 26, 1813.
On March 12, 1814, he writes from London after his return from Bristol:–
“There is a great drawback to my writing long letters to you; I mean the uncertainty of their reaching you.
“Mama’s long letter gave me particular pleasure. Some of her observations, however, made me smile, especially the reasons she assigns for the contempt and hatred of England for America. First, I am inclined to doubt the fact of there being so many _infidel_ Americans in the country; second, if there were, there are not so many _religious_ people here who would take the pains to enquire whether they had religion or not; and third, it is not by seeing the individual Americans that an opinion unfavorable to us is prevalent in England….
“With respect to my religious sentiments, they are unshaken; their influence, I hope, will always guide me through life. I hear various preachings on Sundays, sometimes Mr. Burder, but most commonly the Church of England clergy, as a church is in my neighborhood and Mr. B.’s three miles distant. I most commonly heard Dr. Biddulph, of St. James’s Church, a most excellent, orthodox, evangelical man. I was on the point many times of going to hear Mr. Lowell, who is one of the dissenting clergymen of Bristol, but, as the weather proved very unfavorable, uncommonly so every Sunday I was there, and I was at a great distance from his church, I was disappointed. I shall endeavor to hear him preach when I go back to Bristol again.”
This was in reply to many long exhortations in his parents’ letters, and especially in his mother’s, couched in the extravagant language of the very pious of those days, to seek first the welfare of his “never-dying soul.”
“I have returned from Bristol to attend the exhibitions and to endeavor to get a picture into Somerset House. My stay in Bristol was very pleasant, indeed, as well as profitable. I was there five months and, in May, shall probably go again and stay all summer. I was getting into good business in the portrait way there, and, if I return, shall be enabled, probably, to support myself as long as I stay in England.
“The attention shown me by Mr. Harman Visger and family, whom I have mentioned in a former letter, I shall never forget. He is a rich merchant, an American (cousin to Captain Visscher, my fellow passenger, by whom I was introduced to him). He has a family of seven children. I lived within a few doors of him, and was in and out of his house ever day….”
Four pages of this letter are, unfortunately, missing. It begins again abruptly:–
“… prevented by illness from writing you before.
“I shall endeavor to support myself, if not, necessity will compel me to return home an unfinished painter; it depends altogether on circumstances. I may get a good run of portraits or I may not; it depends so much on the whim of the public; if they should happen to fancy my pictures, I shall succeed; if not, why, I shall not succeed. I am, however, encouraged to hope….
“If I am prohibited from writing or thinking of politics, I hope my brothers will not be so ungenerous as to give me any….
“Mr. Allston’s large picture is now exhibiting in the British Gallery. It has excited a great deal of curiosity and he has obtained a wonderful share of praise for it…. The picture is very deservedly ranked among the highest productions of art, either in ancient or modern times. It is really a pleasant consideration that the palm of painting still rests with America, and is, in all probability, destined to remain with us. All we wish is a taste in the country and a little more wealth…. In order to create a taste, however, pictures, first-rate pictures, must be introduced into the country, for taste is only acquired by a close study of the merits of the old masters. In Philadelphia I am happy to find they have successfully begun. I wish Americans would unite in the thing, throw aside local prejudices and give their support to _one_ institution. Let it be in Philadelphia, since it is so happily begun there, and let every American feel a pride in supporting that institution; let it be a national not a city institution. Then might the arts be so encouraged that Americans might remain at home and not, as at present, be under the painful necessity of exiling themselves from their country and their friends.
“This will come to pass in the course of time, but not in my day, I fear, unless there is more exertion made to forward the arts than at present….”
In this he proved a true prophet, and, as we shall see later, his exertions were a potent factor in establishing the fine arts on a firm basis in New York.
“I am in very good health and I hope I feel grateful for it. I have not been ill for two days together since I have been in England. I am, however, of the _walking-stick_ order, and think I am thinner than I was at home. They all tell me so. I’m not so good-looking either, I am told; I have lost my color, grown more sallow, and have a face approaching to the hatchet class; but none of these things concern me; if I can paint good-looking, plump ladies and gentlemen, I shall feel satisfied….
“We have had a dreadfully severe winter here in England, such as has not been known for twenty-two years. When I came from Bristol the snow was up on each side of the road as high as the top of the coach in many places, especially on Marlborough Down and Hounslow Heath.”
His friend Mr. Visger thus writes to him from Bristol on April 1, 1814:–
“It gave me pleasure to learn that Mr. Leslie sold his picture of Saul, etc., at so good a price. I hope it will stimulate a friend of his to use his best exertions and time to endeavor even to excel the ‘Witch of Endor.’ I think I perceive a few symptoms of amendment in him, and the request of his father that he must support himself is, in the opinion of his friends here, the best thing that could have befallen him. He will now have the pleasure to taste the sweets of his own labor, and I hope will, in reality, know what true independence is. Let him not despair and he will certainly succeed.
“Excuse my having taken up so much of your time in reading what I have written about Mr. Leslie’s friend; I hope it will not make the pencil work less smoothly.
“It gave us all great pleasure to hear that Mr. Allston’s ‘Dead and Alive Man’ got the prize. It would be a great addition to our pleasure to hear that those encouragers of the fine arts have offered him fifteen hundred or two thousand guineas for it….
“There is an old lady waiting your return to have her portrait painted. Bangley says one or two more are enquiring for Mr. Morse.
“You seem to have forgotten your friend in Stapleton prison. Did you not succeed in obtaining his release?”
This refers to a certain Mr. Benjamin Burritt, an American prisoner of war. Morse used every effort, through his friend Henry Thornton, to secure the release of Mr. Burritt. On December 30, 1813, he wrote to Mr. Thornton from Bristol:–
RESPECTED SIR,–I take the liberty of addressing you in behalf of an American prisoner of war now in the Stapleton depot, and I address you, sir, under the conviction that a petition in the cause of humanity will not be considered by you as obtrusive.
The prisoner I allude to is a gentleman of the name of Burritt, a native of New Haven, in the State of Connecticut; his connections are of the highest respectability in that city, which is notorious for its adherence to Federal principles. His friends and relatives are among my father’s friends, and, although I was not, until now, personally acquainted with him, yet his face is familiar to me, and many of his relatives were my particular friends while I was receiving my education at Yale College in New Haven. From that college he was graduated in the year —-. A classmate of his was the Reverend Mr. Stuart, who is one of the professors of the Andover Theological Institution, and of whom, I think, my father has spoken in some of his letters to Mr. Wilberforce.
Mr. Burritt, after he left college, applied himself to study, so much so as to injure his health, and, by the advice of his physicians, he took to the sea as the only remedy left for him. This had the desired effect, and he was restored to health in a considerable degree.
Upon the breaking out of the war with this country, all the American coasting trade being destroyed, he took a situation as second mate in the schooner Revenge, bound to France, and was captured on the 10th of May, 1813.
Since that time he has been a prisoner, and, from the enclosed certificates, you will ascertain what has been his conduct. He is a man of excellent religious principles, and, I firmly believe, of the strictest integrity. So well assured am I of this that, in case it should be required, _I will hold myself bound to answer for him in my own person_.
His health is suffering by his confinement, and the unprincipled society, which he is obliged to endure, is peculiarly disagreeable to a man of his education.
My object in stating these particulars to you, sir, is (if possible and consistent with the laws of the country), to obtain for him, through your influence, his liberty on his parole of honor. By so doing you will probably be the means of preserving the life of a good man, and will lay his friends, my father, and myself under the greatest obligations.
Trusting to your goodness to pardon this intrusion upon your time, I am, sir, with the highest consideration,
Your most humble, obedient servant,
SAMUEL F.B. MORSE.
To this Mr. Thornton replied:–
DEAR SIR,–You will perceive by the enclosed that there is, unhappily, no prospect of our effecting our wishes in respect to your poor friend at Bristol. I shall be glad to know whether you have had any success in obtaining a passport for Dr. Cushing.
I am, dear sir, yours, etc.
H. THORNTON.
The enclosure referred to by Mr. Thornton was the following letter addressed to him by Lord Melville:–
SIR,–Mr. Hay having communicated to me a letter which he received from you on the subject of Benjamin Burritt, an American prisoner of war in the depot at Stapleton, I regret much that, after consulting on this case with Sir Rupert George, and ascertaining the usual course of procedure in similar instances, I cannot discover any circumstances that would justify a departure from the rules observed toward other prisoners of the same description.
There can be no question that his case is a hard one, but I am afraid that it is inseparable from a state of war. It is not only not a solitary instance among the French and American prisoners, but, unless we were prepared to adopt the system of releasing all others of the same description, we should find that the number who might justly complain of undue partiality to this man would be very considerable.
I have the honor to be, sir, your most obedient and very humble servant, MELVILLE.
This was a great disappointment to Morse, who had set his heart on being the means of securing the liberty of this unfortunate man. He was compelled to bow to the inevitable, however, and after this he did what he could to make the unhappy situation of the prisoner more bearable by extending to him financial assistance, although he had but little to spare at that time himself, and could but ill afford the luxury of giving.
Great events were occurring on the Continent at this time, and it is interesting to note how the intelligence of them was received in England by an enthusiastic student, not only of the fine arts, but of the humanities, who felt that, in this case, his sympathies and those of his family were in accord:–
April 6, 1814.
MY DEAR PARENTS,–I write in much haste, but it is to inform you of a most glorious event, no less than the capture of Paris, by the Allies. They entered it last Thursday, and you may conceive the sensations of the people of England on the occasion. As the cartel is the first vessel which will arrive in America to carry the news, I hope I shall have the great satisfaction of hearing that I am the first who shall inform you of this great event; the particulars you will see nearly as soon as this.
I congratulate you and the rest of the good people of the world on the occasion. _Despotism_ and _Usurpation_ are fallen, never, I hope, to rise again. But what gives me the greatest pleasure in the contemplation of this occurrence is the spirit of religion and, consequently, of humanity which has constantly marked the conduct of the Allies. Their moderation through all their unparallelled successes cannot be too much extolled; they merit the grateful remembrance of posterity, who will bless them as the restorers of a blessing but little enjoyed by the greater part of mankind for centuries. I mean the inestimable blessing of _Peace_.
But I must cut short my feelings on the subject; were I to give them scope they would fill quires; they are as ardent as yours possibly can be. Suffice it to say that I see the hand of Providence so strongly in it that I think an infidel must be converted by it, and I hope I feel as a Christian should on such an occasion.
I am well, in excellent spirits and shall use my utmost endeavors to support myself, for now more than ever is it necessary for me to stay in Europe. Peace is inevitable, and the easy access to the Continent and the fine works of art there render it doubly important that I should improve them to my utmost.
I cannot ask more of my parents than they have done for me, but the struggle will be hard for me to get along and improve myself at the same time. Portraits are the only things which can support me at present, but it is insipid, indeed, for one who wishes to be at the head of the first branch of the art, to be stopped halfway, and be obliged to struggle with the difficulty of maintaining himself, in addition to the other difficulties attendant on the profession.
But it is impossible to place this in a clear light in a letter. I wish I could talk with you on the subject, and I could in a short time make it clear to you. I cannot ask it of you and I do not till I try what I can do. You have already done more than I deserved and it would be ingratitude in me to request more of you, and I do not; only I say these things that you may not expect so much from me in the way of improvement as you may have been led to suppose.
Morse seems to have made an excursion into dramatic literature at about this time, as the following draft of a letter, without date, but evidently written to the celebrated actor Charles Mathews, will testify:–
Not having the honor of a personal acquaintance with you, I have taken the liberty of enclosing to you a farce which, if, on perusal, you should think worthy of the stage, I beg you to accept, to be performed, if consistent with your plans, on the night appointed for your benefit.
If I should be so much favored as to obtain your good opinion of it, the approbation alone of Mr. Mathews will be a sufficient reward for the task of writing it.
The pleasure which I have so often received from you in the exercise of your comic powers would alone prompt me to make some return which might show you, at least, that I can be grateful to those who have at any time afforded me pleasure.
With respect to your accepting or not accepting it, I wish you to act your pleasure entirely. If you think it will be of benefit to you by drawing a full house, or in any other way, it is perfectly at your service. If you think it will not succeed, will you have the goodness to enclose it under cover and direct to Mr. T.G.S., artist, 82 Great Titchfield Street; and I assure you beforehand that you need be under no apprehension of giving me mortification by refusing it. It would only convince me that I had not dramatic talents, and would serve, perhaps, to increase my ardor in the pursuit of my professional studies. If, however, it should meet with your approbation and you should wish to see me on the subject, a line directed as above enclosing your address shall receive immediate attention.
I am as yet undecided what shall be its name. The character of Oxyd I had designed for you. The farce is a first attempt and has received the approbation, not only of my theatrical friends generally, but of some confessed critics by whom it has been commended.
With sentiments of respect and esteem I remain, Your most obedient humble servant,
T.G.S.
As no further mention of this play is made I fear that the great Charles Mathews did not find it available. There is also no trace of the play itself among the papers, which is rather to be regretted. We can only surmise that Morse came to the conclusion (very wisely) that he had no “dramatic talents,” and that he turned to the pursuit of his professional studies with increased ardor.
CHAPTER VII
MAY 2, 1814–OCTOBER 11, 1814
Allston writes encouragingly to the parents.–Morse unwilling to be mere portrait-painter.–Ambitious to stand at the head of his profession.– Desires patronage from wealthy friends.–Delay in the mails.–Account of _entree_ of Louis XVIII into London.–The Prince Regent.–Indignation at acts of English.–His parents relieved at hearing from him after seven months’ silence.–No hope of patronage from America.–His brothers.– Account of fetes.–Emperor Alexander, King of Prussia, Bluecher, Platoff. –Wishes to go to Paris.–Letter from M. Van Schaick about battle of Lake Erie.–Disgusted with England.
Morse had now spent nearly three years in England. He was maturing rapidly in every way, and what his master thought of him is shown in this extract from a letter of Washington Allston to the anxious parent at home:–
“With regard to the progress which your son has made, I have the pleasure to say that it is unusually great for the time he has been studying, and indeed such as to make me proud of him as a pupil and to give every promise of future eminence….
“Should he be obliged to return _now_ to America, I much fear that all which he has acquired would be rendered abortive. It is true he could there paint very good portraits, but I should grieve to hear at any future period that, on the foundation now laid, he shall have been able to raise no higher superstructure than the fame of a portrait-painter. I do not intend here any disrespect to portrait-painting; I know it requires no common talent to excel in it….
“In addition to this _professional report_ I have the sincere satisfaction to give my testimony to his conduct as a man, which is such as to render him still worthy of being affectionately remembered by his moral and religious friends in America. This is saying a great deal for a young man of two-and-twenty in London, but is not more than justice requires me to say of him.”
On May 2, 1814, Morse writes home:–
“You ask if you are to expect me the next summer. This leads me to a little enlargement on the peculiar circumstances in which I am now placed. Mr. Allston’s letter by the same cartel will convince you that industry and application have not been wanting on my part, that I have made greater progress than young men generally, etc., etc., and of how great importance it is to me to remain in Europe for some time yet to come. Indeed I feel it so much so myself that I shall endeavor to stay at all risks. If I find that I cannot support myself, that I am contracting debts which I have no prospect of paying, I shall then return home and settle down into a mere portrait-painter for some time, till I can obtain sufficient to return to Europe again; for I cannot be happy unless I am pursuing the intellectual branch of the art. Portraits have none of it; landscape has some of it, but history has it wholly. I am certain you would not be satisfied to see me sit down quietly, spending my time in painting portraits, throwing away the talents which Heaven has given me for the higher branches of art, and devoting my time only to the inferior.
“I need not tell you what a difficult profession I have undertaken. It has difficulties in itself which are sufficient to deter any man who has not firmness enough to go through with it at all hazards, without meeting with any obstacles aside from it. The more I study it, the more I am enchanted with it; and the greater my progress, the more am I struck with its beauties, and the perseverance of those who have dared to pursue it through the thousands of natural hindrances with which the art abounds.
“I never can feel too grateful to my parents for having assisted me thus far in my profession. They have done more than I had any right to expect; they have conducted themselves with a liberality towards me, both in respect to money and to countenancing me in the pursuit of one of the noblest of professions, which has not many equals in this country. I cannot ask of them more; it would be ingratitude.
“I am now in the midst of my studies when the great works of ancient art are of the utmost service to me. Political events have just thrown open the whole Continent; the whole world will now leave war and bend their attention to the cultivation of the arts of peace. A golden age is in prospect, and art is probably destined to again revive as in the fifteenth century.
“The Americans at present stand unrivalled, and it is my great ambition (and it is certainly a commendable one) to stand among the first. My country has the most prominent place in my thoughts. How shall I raise her name, how can I be of service in refuting the calumny, so industriously spread against her, that she has produced no men of genius? It is this more than anything (aside from painting) that inspires me with a desire to excel in my art. It arouses my indignation and gives me tenfold energy in the pursuit of my studies. I should like to be the greatest painter _purely out of revenge_.
“But what a damper is thrown upon my enthusiasm when I find that, the moment when all the treasures of art are before me, just within my reach; that advantages to the artist were never greater than now; Paris with all its splendid depository of the greatest works but a day or two’s journey from me, and open to my free inspection,–what a damper, I say, is it to find that my three years’ allowance is just expired; that while all my contemporary students and companions are revelling in these enjoyments, and rapidly advancing in their noble studies, they are leaving me behind, either to return to my country, or, by painting portraits in Bristol, just to be able to live through the year. The thought makes me melancholy, and, for the first time since I left home, have I had one of my desponding fits. I have got over it now, for I would not write to you in that mood for the world. My object in stating this is to request patronage from some rich individual or individuals for a year or two longer at the rate of L250 per year. This to be advanced to me, and, if required, to be returned in money as soon as I shall be able, or by pictures to the amount when I have completed my studies…. If Uncle Salisbury or Miss Russell could do it, it would be much more grateful to me than from any others….
“The box containing my plaster cast I found, on enquiry, is still at Liverpool where it has been, to my great disappointment, now nearly a year. I have given orders to have it sent by the first opportunity. Mr. Wilder will tell you that he came near taking out my great picture of the Hercules to you. It seems as though it is destined that nothing of mine shall reach you. I packed it up at a moment’s warning and sent it to Liverpool to go by the cartel, and I found it arrived the day after she had sailed. I hope it will not be long before both the boxes will have an opportunity of reaching you.
“I am exceedingly sorry you have forgotten a passage in one of my letters where I wished you not to feel anxious if you did not hear from me as often as you had done. I stated the reason, that opportunities were less frequent, more circuitous, and attended with greater interruptions. I told you that I should write at least once in three weeks, and that you must attribute it to anything but neglect on my part.
“Your last letter has hurt me considerably, for, owing to some accident or other, my letters have miscarried, and you upbraid me with neglect, and fear that I am not as industrious or correct as formerly. I know you don’t wish to hurt me, but I cannot help feeling hurt when I think that my parents have not the confidence which I thought they had in me; that some interruptions, which all complain of and which are natural to a state of warfare, having prevented letters, which I have written, from being received; instead of making allowances for these things, to have them attribute it to a falling-off in industry and attention wounds me a great deal. Mrs. Allston, to her great surprise, received just such a letter from her friends, and it hurt her so that she was ill in consequence….
“I dine at Mr. Macaulay’s at five o’clock to-day, and shall attend the House of Commons to-morrow evening, where I expect to hear Mr. Wilberforce speak on the Slave Trade, with reference to the propriety of making the universal abolition of it an article in the pending negotiations. If I have time in this letter I will give you some account of it. In the mean time I will give you a slight account of some scenes of which I have been a happy witness in the great drama now acting in the Theatre of Europe.
“You will probably, before this reaches you, hear of the splendid _entree_ of Louis XVIII into London. I was a spectator of this scene. On the morning of the day, about ten o’clock, I went into Piccadilly through which the procession was to pass. I did not find any great concourse of people at that hour except before the Pultney Hotel, where the sister of Emperor Alexander resides on a visit to this country, the Grand Duchess of Oldenburg. I thought it probable that, as the procession would pass this place, there would be some uncommon occurrence taking place before it, so I took my situation directly opposite, determined, at any rate, to secure a good view of what happened.
“I waited four or five hours, during which time the people began to collect from all quarters; the carriages began to thicken, the windows and fronts of the houses began to be decorated with the white flag, white ribbons, and laurel. Temporary seats were fitted up on all sides, which began to be filled, and all seemed to be in preparation. About this time the King’s splendid band of music made its appearance, consisting, I suppose, of more than fifty musicians, and, to my great gratification, placed themselves directly before the hotel. They began to play, and soon after the grand duchess, attended by several Russian noblemen, made her appearance on the balcony, followed by the Queen of England, the Princess Charlotte of Wales, the Princess Mary, Princess Elizabeth, and all the female part of the royal family. From this fortunate circumstance you will see that I had an excellent opportunity of observing their persons and countenances.
“The Duchess of Oldenburg is a common-sized woman of about four or five and twenty; she has rather a pleasant countenance, blue eyes, pale complexion, regular features, her cheek-bones high, but not disagreeably so. She resembles very much her brother the Emperor, judging from his portrait. She had with her her little nephew, Prince Alexander, a boy of about three or four years old. He was a lively little fellow, playing about, and was the principal object of the attention of the royal family.
“The Queen, if I was truly directed to her, is an old woman of very sallow complexion, and nothing agreeable either in her countenance or deportment; and, if she was not called a queen, she might as well be any ugly old woman. The Princess Charlotte of Wales I thought pretty; she has small features, regular, pale complexion, great amiability of expression and condescension of manners; the Princess Elizabeth is extremely corpulent, and, from what I could see of her face, was agreeable though nothing remarkable.
“One of the others, I think it was the Princess Mary, appeared to have considerable vivacity in her manners; she was without any covering to her head, her hair was sandy, which she wore cropped; her complexion was probably fair originally, but was rather red now; her features were agreeable.
“It now began to grow late, the people were beginning to be tired, wanting their dinners, and the crowd to thicken, when a universal commotion and murmur through the crowd and from the housetops indicated that the procession was at hand. This was followed by the thunder of artillery and the huzzas of the people toward the head of the street, where the houses seemed to be alive with the twirling of hats and shaking of handkerchiefs. This seemed to mark the progress of the King; for, as he came opposite each house, these actions became most violent, with cries of _’Vivent les Bourbons!’ ‘Vive le Roi!’ ‘Vive Louis!’_ etc.
“I now grew several inches taller; I stretched my neck and opened my eyes. One carriage appeared, drawn by six horses, decorated with ribbons, and containing some of the French _noblesse;_ another, of the same description, with some of the French royal family. At length came a carriage drawn by eight beautiful Arabian cream-colored horses. In this were seated Louis XVIII, King of France, the Prince Regent of England, the Duchesse d’Angouleme, daughter of Louis XVI, and the Prince of Conde. They passed rather quickly, so that I had but a glance at them, though a distinct one. The Prince Regent I had often seen before; the King of France I had a better sight of afterwards, as I will presently relate. The Duchesse d’Angouleme had a fine expression of countenance, owing probably to the occasion, but a melancholy cast was also visible through it; she was pale. The Prince of Conde I have no recollection of.
“After this part of the procession had passed, the crowd became exceedingly oppressive, rushing down the street to keep pace with the King’s carriage. As the King passed the royal family he bowed, which they returned by kissing their hands to him and shaking their handkerchiefs with great enthusiasm. After they had gone by, the royal family left the balcony, where they had been between two and three hours.
“My only object now was to get clear of the crowd. I waited nearly three quarters of an hour, and at length, by main strength, worked myself edgewise across the street, where I pushed down through stables and houses and by-lanes to get thoroughly clear, not caring where I went, as I knew I could easily find my way when I got into a street. This I at last gained, and, to my no small astonishment, found myself by mere chance directly opposite the hotel where Louis and his suite were.
“The Prince Regent had just left the place, and with his carriage went a great part of the mob, which left the space before the house comparatively clear. It soon filled again; I took advantage, however, and got directly before the windows of the hotel, as I expected the King would show himself, for the people were calling for him very clamorously.
“I was not disappointed, for, in less than half a minute he came to the window, which was open, before which I was. I was so near him I could have touched him. He stayed nearly ten minutes, during which time I observed him carefully. He is very corpulent, a round face, dark eyes, prominent features; the character of countenance much like the portraits of the other Louises; a pleasant face, but, above all, such an expression of the moment as, I shall never forget, and in vain attempt to describe.
“His eyes were suffused with tears, his mouth slightly open with an unaffected smile full of gratitude, and seemed to say to every one, ‘Bless you.’ His hands were a little extended sometimes as if in adoration to heaven, at others as if blessing the people. I entered into his feelings. I saw a monarch who, for five-and-twenty years, had been an exile from his country, deprived of his throne, and, until within a few months, not a shadow of a hope remaining of ever returning to it again. I saw him raised, as if by magic, from a private station in an instant to his throne, to reign over a nation which has made itself the most conspicuous of any nation on the globe. I tried to think as he did, and, in the heat of my enthusiasm, I joined with heart and soul in the cries of _’Vive le roi!’ ‘Vive Louis!’_ which rent the air from the mouths of thousands. As soon as he left the window, I returned home much fatigued, but well satisfied that my labor had not been for naught….
“Mr. Wilberforce is an excellent man; his whole soul is bent on doing good to his fellow men. Not a moment of his time is lost. He is always planning some benevolent scheme or other, and not only planning but executing; he is made up altogether of affectionate feeling. What I saw of him in private gave me the most exalted opinion of him as a Christian. Oh, that such men as Mr. Wilberforce were more common in this world. So much human blood would not then be shed to gratify the malice and revenge of a few wicked, interested men.
“I hope Cousin Samuel Breese will distinguish himself under so gallant a commander as Captain Perry. I shall look with anxiety for the sailing of the Guerriere. There will be plenty of opportunity for him, for peace with us is deprecated by the people here, and it only remains for us to fight it out gallantly, as we are able to do, or submit slavishly to any terms which they please to offer us. A number of _humane_ schemes are under contemplation, such as burning New London for the sake of the frigates there; arming the blacks in the Southern States; burning all of our principal cities, and such like plans, which, from the supineness of the New England people, may be easily carried into effect. But no, the _humane, generous_ English cannot do such base things–I hope not; let the event show it. It is perhaps well I am here, for, with my present opinions, if I were at home, I should most certainly be in the army or navy. My mite is small, but, when my country’s honor demands it, it might help to sustain it.
“There can now be no French party. I wish very much to know what effect this series of good news will have at home. I congratulate you as well as all other good people on the providential events which have lately happened; they must produce great changes with us; I hope it will be for the best.
“I am in excellent health, and am painting away; I am making studies for the large picture I contemplate for next year. It will be as large, I think, as Mr. Allston’s famous one, which was ten feet by fourteen.”
It can hardly be wondered at that the parents should have been somewhat anxious, when we learn from letters of June, 1814, that they had not heard from their son for _seven months_. They were greatly relieved when letters did finally arrive, and they rejoiced in his success and in the hope of a universal peace, which should enable their sons “to act their part on the stage of life in a calmer period of the world.”
His mother keeps urging him to send some of his paintings home, as they wish to judge of his improvement, having, as yet, received nothing but the small pen-and-ink portrait of himself, which they do not think a very good likeness. She also emphatically discourages any idea of patronage from America, owing to the hard times brought on by the war, and the father tells his son that he will endeavor to send him one thousand dollars more, which must suffice for the additional year’s study and the expenses of the journey home.
It is small wonder that the three sons always manifested the deepest veneration and affection for their parents, for seldom has there been seen as great devotion and self-sacrifice, and seldom were three sons more worthy of it. Sidney was at this time studying law at Litchfield, Connecticut, and Richard was attending the Theological Seminary at Andover, Massachusetts. Both became eminent in after life, though, curiously enough, neither in the law nor in the ministry. But we shall have occasion to treat more specifically of this later on. The three brothers were devotedly attached to each other to the very end of their long lives, and were mutually helpful as their lives now diverged and now came together again.
The next letter from Morse to his parents, written on June 15, 1814, gives a further account of the great people who were at that time in London:–
“I expected at this time to have been in Bristol with Mr. and Mrs. Allston, who are now there, but the great fetes in honor of the peace, and the visit of the allied sovereigns, have kept me in London till all is over. There are now in London upward of twenty foreign princes; also the great Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia. A week ago yesterday they arrived in town, and, contrary to expectation, came in a very private manner. I went to see their _entree_, but was disappointed with the rest of the people, for the Emperor Alexander, disliking all show and parade, came in a private carriage and took an indirect route here.
“The next and following day I spent in endeavoring to get a sight of them. I have been very fortunate, having seen the Emperor Alexander no less than fourteen times, so that I am quite familiar with his face; the King of Prussia I have seen once; Marshal Bluecher, five or six times; Count Platoff, three or four times; besides Generals de Yorck, Buelow, etc., all whose names must be perfectly familiar to you, and the distinguished parts they have all acted in the great scenes just past.
“The Emperor Alexander I am quite in love with; he has every mark of a great mind. His countenance is an uncommonly fine one; he has a fair complexion, hair rather light, and a stout, well-made figure; he has a very cheerful, benevolent expression, and his conduct has everywhere evinced that his face is the index of his mind. When I first saw him he was dressed in a green uniform with two epaulets and stars of different orders; he was conversing at the window of his hotel with his sister, the Duchess of Oldenburg. I saw him again soon after in the superb coach of the Prince Regent, with the Duchess, his sister, going to the court of the Queen. In a few hours after I saw him again on the balcony of the Pultney Hotel; he came forward and bowed to the people. He was then dressed in a red uniform, with a broad blue sash over the right shoulder; he appeared to great advantage; he stayed about five minutes. I saw him again five or six times through the day, but got only indifferent views of him. The following day, however, I was determined to get a better and nearer view of him than before. I went down to his hotel about ten o’clock, the time when I supposed he would leave it; I saw one of the Prince’s carriages drawn up, which opened at the top and was thrown back before and behind. In a few minutes the Emperor with his sister made their appearance and got into it. As the carriage started, I pressed forward and got hold of the ring of the coach door and kept pace with it for about a quarter of a mile. I was so near that I could have touched him; he was in a plain dress, a brown coat, and altogether like any other gentleman. His sister, the Duchess, also was dressed in a very plain, unattractive manner, and, if it had not been for the crowd which followed, they would have been taken for any lady and gentleman taking an airing.
“In this unostentatious manner does he conduct himself, despising all pomp, and seems rather more intent upon inspecting the charitable, useful, and ornamental establishments of this country, with a view, probably, of benefiting his own dominions by his observations, than of displaying his rank by the splendor of dress and equipage.
“His condescension also is no less remarkable. An instance or two will exemplify it. On the morning after his arrival he was up at six o’clock, and, while the lazy inhabitants of this great city were fast asleep in their beds, he was walking with his sister, the Duchess, in Kensington Gardens. As he came across Hyde Park he observed a corporal drilling some recruits, upon which he went up to him and entered into familiar conversation with him, asking him a variety of questions, and, when he had seen the end of the exercise, shook him heartily by the hand and left him. When he was riding on horseback, he shook hands with all who came round him.
“A few days ago, as he was coming out of the gate of the London Docks on foot, after having inspected them, a great crowd was waiting to see him, among whom was an old woman of about seventy years of age, who seemed very anxious to get near him, but, the crowd pressing very much, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, if I could but touch his clothes!’ The Emperor overheard her, and, turning round, advanced to her, and, pulling off his glove, gave her his hand, and, at the same time dropping a guinea into hers, said to her, ‘Perhaps this will do as well.’ The old woman was quite overcome, and cried, ‘God bless Your Majesty,’ till he was out of sight.
“An old woman in her ninetieth year sent a pair of warm woolen stockings to the Emperor, and with them a letter stating that she had knit them with her own hands expressly for him, and, as she could not afford to send him silk, she thought that woolen would be much more acceptable, and would also be more useful in his climate. The Emperor was very much pleased, and determined on giving her his miniature set in gold and diamonds, but, upon learning that her situation in life was such that money would be more acceptable, he wrote her an answer, and, thanking her heartily for her present, enclosed her one hundred pounds.
“These anecdotes speak more than volumes in praise of the Emperor Alexander. He is truly a great man. He is a great conqueror, for he has subdued the greatest country in the world, and overthrown the most alarming despotism that ever threatened mankind. He is great also because he is good; his whole time seems spent in distributing good to all around him; and where-ever he goes he makes every heart rejoice. He is very active and is all the time on the alert in viewing everything that is worth seeing. The Emperor is also extremely partial to the United States; everything American pleases him, and he seems uncommonly interested in the welfare of our country.
“I was introduced to-day to Mr. Harris, our _charge d’affaires_ to the court of Russia. He is a very intelligent, fine man, and is a great favorite with Alexander. From a conversation with him I have a scheme in view which, when I have matured, I will submit to you for your approbation.
“The King of Prussia I have seen but once, and then had but an imperfect view of him. He came to the window with the Prince Regent and bowed to the people (at St. James’s Palace). He is tall and thin, has an agreeable countenance, but rather dejected in consequence of the late loss of his queen, to whom he was very much attached.
“General Bluecher, now Prince Bluecher, I have seen five or six times. I saw him on his entrance into London, all covered with dust, and in a very ordinary kind of vehicle. On the day after I saw him several times in his carriage, drawn about wherever he wished by the _mob_. He is John’s greatest favorite, and they have almost pulled the brave general and his companion, Count Platoff, to pieces out of pure affection. Platoff had his coat actually torn off him and divided into a thousand pieces as _relics_ by the good people–their kindness knows no bounds, and, I think, in all the battles which they have fought, they never have run so much risk of losing their limbs as in encountering their friends in England.
“Bluecher is a veteran-looking soldier, a very fine head, monstrous mustaches. His head is bald, like papa’s, his hair gray, and he wears powder. Understanding that he was to be at Covent Garden Theatre, I went, as the best place to see him, and I was not disappointed. He was in the Prince’s box, and I had a good view of him during the whole entertainment, being directly before him for three or four hours. A few nights since I also went to the theatre to see Platoff, the _hetman_ (chief) of the Cossacks. He has also a very fine countenance, a high and broad forehead, dark complexion, and dark hair. He is tall and well-made, as I think the Cossacks are generally. He was very much applauded by a crowded house, the most part collected to see him.”
The following letter is from Washington Allston written in Bristol, on July 5, 1814:–
MY DEAR SIR,–I received your last on Saturday and should have answered your first letter but for two reasons.
First, that I had nothing to say; which, I think, metaphysicians allow to be the most natural as well as the most powerful cause of silence.
Second, that, if I had had anything to say, the daily expectation which I entertained of seeing you allowed no confidence in the hope that you would hear what I had to say should I have said it.
I thank you for your solicitude, and can assure you that both Mrs. Allston and myself are in every respect better than when we left London. Mr. King received me, as I wished, with undiminished kindness, and was greatly pleased with the pictures. He has not, however, seen the large one, which, to my agreeable surprise, I have been solicited from various quarters to exhibit, and that, too, without my having given the least intimation of such a design. I have taken Merchant Tailors’ Hall (a very large room) for this purpose, and shall probably open it in the course of next week.
Perhaps you will be surprised to hear that I have been retouching it. I have just concluded a fortnight’s hard work upon it, and have the satisfaction to add that I have been seldom better satisfied than with my present labor. I have repainted the greater part of the draperies– indeed, those of all the principal figures, excepting the Dead Man–with powerful and positive colors, and added double strength to the shadows of every figure, so that for force and distinctness you would hardly know it for the same picture. The “Morning Chronicle” would have no reason now to complain of its “wan red.”…
I am sorry that Parliament has been so impolite to you in procrastinating the fireworks. But they are an unpolished set and will still be in the dark age of incivility notwithstanding their late illuminations. However I am in great hopes that the good people of England will derive no small degree of moral embellishment from their pure admiration of the illustrious General B—-, who, it is said, for drinking and gaming has no equal.
BRISTOL, September 9, 1814.
MY DEAR PARENTS,–Your kind letters of June last I have received, and return you a thousand thanks for them. They have relieved me from a painful state of anxiety with respect to my future prospects. I cannot feel too thankful for such kind parents who have universally shown so much indulgence to me. Accept my gratitude and love; they are all I can give.
You allow me to stay in Europe another year. Your letters are not in answer to some I have subsequently sent requesting leave to reside in Paris. Mr. Allston, as well as all my friends, think it by all means necessary I should lose no time in getting to France to improve myself for a year in drawing (a branch of art in which I am very deficient).
I shall therefore set out for Paris in about two weeks, unless your letters in answer to those sent by Drs. Heyward and Gushing should arrive and say otherwise. Since coming to Bristol I have not found my prospects so good as I before had reason to expect (owing in a great degree to political irritation). I have, however, contrived to make sufficient to pay off _all_ my _debts_, which have given me some considerable uneasiness.
I can live much more reasonably in Paris (indeed, some say for half what I can in London); I can improve myself more; and, therefore, all things taken into consideration, I believe it would be agreeable to my parents. As to the political state of Paris, there is nothing to fear from that. It appears perfectly tranquil, and should at any time any difficulties arise, it is but three days’ journey back to England again. Besides this, I hope my parents will not feel any solicitude for me lest I should fall into any bad way, when they consider that I am now between twenty-three and twenty-four years of age, and that this is an age when the habits are generally fixed.
As for expense, I must also request your confidence. Feeling as I do the great obligations I am under to my parents, they must think me destitute of gratitude if they thought me capable, after all that has been said to me, of being prodigal. The past I trust you will find to be an example for the future.
In a letter from a friend, M. Van Schaick, written from Dartmouth, October 13, 1814, after speaking in detail of the fortifications of New York Harbor, which he considers “impregnable,” we find the following interesting information:–
“But what satisfies my mind more than anything else is that all the heights of Brooklyn on Long Island are occupied by strong chains of forts; the Captain calls it an iron-work; and that the steamboat frigate, carrying forty-four 32-pounders, must by this time be finished. Her sides are eight feet thick of solid timber. No ball can penetrate her…. The steamboat frigate is 160 feet long, 40 wide, carries her wheels in the centre like the ferry-boats, and will move six miles an hour against a common wind and tide. She is the wonder and admiration of all beholders.”
From this same gentleman is the following letter, dated October 21, 1814:–
MY DEAR FRIEND,–My heart is so full that I do not know how to utter its emotions. Thanks, all thanks to Heaven and our glorious heroes! My satisfaction is full; it is perfect. It partakes of the character of the victory and wants nothing to make it complete.
I return your felicitations upon this happy and heart-cheering occasion, and hope it may serve to suppress every sigh and to enliven every hope that animates the bosoms of my friends at Bristol. Give Mr. Allston a hearty squeeze of the hand for me in token of my gratification at this event and my remembrance of him.
I enter into your feelings; I enjoy your triumph as much as if I was with you. May it do you good and lengthen your lives. Really I think it is much more worth my regard to live now than ever it was before. This gives a tone to one’s nerves, a zest to one’s appetite, and a reality to existence that pervades all nature and exhibits its effects in every word and action.
Among the heroes whose names shall be inscribed upon the broad base of American Independence and Glory, the names of the heroes of Lake Erie and Lake Champlain will be recognized as brilliant and every way worthy; and it will hereafter be said that the example and exertions of New York have saved the nation…. What becomes of Massachusetts now and its sage politicians? Oh! shut the picture; I cannot bear the contrast. Like a dead carcass she hangs upon the living spirit which animates the heart, and she impedes its motions. Her consequence is gone, and I am sorry for it, because I have been accustomed to admire the noble spirit she once displayed, and the virtues which adorned her brighter days….
We sail on Sunday or Monday. I have received the box. Everything is right. Heaven bless you.
Going back a few days in point of time, the following letter was written to his parents:–
BRISTOL, October 11, 1814.
Your letters to the 31st of August have been received, and I have again to express to you my thanks for the sacrifices you are making for me. One day I hope it will be in my power to repay you for the many acts of indulgence to me….
Your last letters mention nothing about my going to France. I perceive you have got my letters requesting leave, but you are altogether silent on the subject. Everything is in favor of my going, my improvement, my expenses, and, last though not least, _the state of my feelings_. I shall be ruined in my feelings if I stay longer in England. I cannot endure the continued and daily insults to my feelings as an American. But on this head I promised not to write anything more; still allow me to say but a few words–On second thoughts, however, I will refer you entirely to Dr. Romeyn. If it is possible, as you value my comfort, see him as speedily as possible. He will give you my sentiments exactly, and I fully trust that, after you have heard him converse for a short time, you will completely liberate me from the imputation of error….
Mr. Bromfield [the merchant through whom he received his allowance] thinks I had better wait until I receive positive leave from you to go to France. Do write me soon and do give me leave. I long to bury myself in the Louvre in a country at least not hostile to mine, and where guns are not firing and bells ringing for victory over my countrymen…. Where is American patriotism,–how long shall England, already too proud, glory in the blood of my countrymen? Oh! for the genius of Washington! Had I but his talents with what alacrity would I return to the relief of that country which (without affectation, my dear parents) is dearer to me than my life. Willingly (I speak with truth and deliberation), willingly would I sacrifice my life for her honor.
Do not think ill of me for speaking thus strongly. You cannot judge impartially of my feelings until you are placed in my situation. Do not say I suffer myself to be carried away by my feelings; your feelings could never have been tried as mine have; you cannot see with the eyes I do; you cannot have the means of ascertaining facts on this side of the water that I have. But I will leave this subject and only say see _Dr. Romeyn_….
I find no encouragement whatever in Bristol in the way of my art. National feeling is mingled with everything here; it is sufficient that I am an American, a title I would not change with the greatest king in Europe.
I find it more reasonable, living in Bristol, or I should go to London immediately. Mr. and Mrs. Allston are well and send you their respects. They set out for London in a few days after some months’ _unsuccessful_ (between ourselves) residence here. All public feeling is absorbed in one object, the _conquest of the United States;_ no time to encourage an artist, especially an American artist.
I am well, extremely well, but not in good spirits, as you may imagine from this letter. I am painting a little landscape and am studying in my mind a great historical picture, to be painted, by your leave, in Paris.
CHAPTER VIII
NOVEMBER 9, 1814–APRIL 23. 1815
Does not go to Paris.–Letter of admonition from his mother.–His parents’ early economies.–Letter from Leslie.–Letter from Rev. S.F. Jarvis on politics.–The mother tells of the economies of another young American, Dr. Parkman.–The son resents constant exhortations to economize, and tells of meanness of Dr. Parkman.–Writes of his own economies and industry.–Disgusted with Bristol.–Prophesies peace between England and America.–Estimates of Morse’s character by Dr. Romeyn and Mr. Van Schaick.–The father regrets reproof of son for political views.–Death of Mrs. Allston.–Disagreeable experience in Bristol.–More economies.–Napoleon I.–Peace.
Morse did not go to Paris at this time. The permission from his parents was so long delayed, owing to their not having received certain letters of his, and his mentor, Mr. Bromfield, advising against it, he gave up the plan, with what philosophy he could bring to bear on the situation.
His mother continued to give him careful advice, covering many pages, in every letter. On November 9, 1814, she says:–
“We wish to know what the plan was that you said you were maturing in regard to the Emperor of Russia. You must not be a schemer, but determine on a steady, uniform course. It is an old adage that ‘a rolling stone never gathers any moss’; so a person that is driving about from pillar to post very seldom lays up anything against a rainy day. You must be wise, my son, and endeavor to get into such steady business as will, with the divine blessing, give you a support. Secure that first, and then you will be authorized to indulge your taste and exercise your genius in other ways that may not be immediately connected with a living.
“You mention patronage from this country, but such a thing is not known here unless you were on the spot, and not then, indeed, but for value received. You must therefore make up your mind to labor for yourself without leaning on any one, and look up to God for his blessing upon your endeavors. This is the way your parents set out in life about twenty-five years ago. They had nothing to look to for a support but their salary, which was a house, twenty cords of wood, and $570 a year. The reception and circulation of the Geography was an experiment not then made. With the blessing of Heaven on these resources we have maintained an expensive family, kept open doors for almost all who chose to come and partake of our hospitality. Enemies, as well as friends, have been welcomed. We have given you and your brothers a liberal education, have allowed you $4000, are allowing your brothers about $300 a year apiece, and are supporting our remaining family at the rate of $2000 a year. This is a pretty correct statement, and I make it to show you what can be done by industry and economy, with the blessing of Heaven.”
While Morse was in Bristol, his friend C. R. Leslie thus writes to him in lead pencil from London, on November 29, 1814:–
MOST POTENT, GRAVE AND REVEREND DOCTOR,–I take up my pencil to make ten thousand apologies for addressing you in humble black lead. Deeply impressed as I am with the full conviction that you deserve the very best Japan ink, the only excuse I can make to you is the following. It is, perhaps, needless to remind you that the tools with which ink is applied to paper, in order to produce writing, are made from goose quills, which quills I am goose enough not to keep a supply of; and not having so much money at present in my breeches pocket as will purchase one, I am forced to betake myself to my pencil; an instrument which, without paying myself any compliment, I am sure I can wield better than a pen.
I am glad to hear that you are so industrious, and that Mr. Allston is succeeding so well with portraits. I hope he will bring all he has painted to London. I am looking out for you every day. I think we form a kind of family here, and I feel in an absence from Mr. and Mrs. Allston and yourself as I used to do when away from my mother and sisters.
By the bye, I have not had any letters from home for more than a month. It seems the Americans are all united and we shall now have war in earnest. I am glad of it for many reasons; I think it will not only get us a more speedy and permanent peace, but may tend to crush the demon of party spirit and strengthen our government.
I am done painting the gallery, and have finished my drawings for the frieze. Thank you for your good wishes.
I thought Mr. Allston knew how proud I am of being considered his student. Tell him, if he thinks it worth while to mention me at all in his letter to Delaplaine, I shall consider it a great honor to be called his student.
The father, in a letter of December 6, 1814, after again urging him to leave politics alone, adds this postscript:
“P.S. If you can make up your mind to remain in London and finish your great picture for the exhibition; to suppress your political feelings, and resolutely turn a deaf ear to everything which does not concern your professional studies; not to talk on politics and preserve a conciliating course of conduct and conversation; make as many friends as you can, and behave as a good man ought to in your situation, and put off going to France till after your exhibition,–this plan would suit us best. But with the observations and advice now before you, we leave you to judge for yourself. Let us early know your determination and intended plans. You must rely on your own resources after this year.”
The following letter is from his warm friend, the Reverend Samuel F. Jarvis, written in New York, December 14, 1814:–
“I am not surprised at the feelings you express with regard to England or America. The English in general have so contemptuous an opinion of us and one so exalted of themselves, that every American must feel a virtuous indignation when he hears his country traduced and belied. But, my dear sir, it is natural, on the other hand, for an exile from his native land to turn with fond remembrance to its excellences and forget its defects. You will be able some years hence to speak with more impartiality on this subject than you do at present.
“The men who have involved the country in this war are wicked and corrupt. A systematic exclusion of all Federalists from any office of trust is the leading feature of this Administration, yet the Federalists comprehend the majority of the wealth, virtue, and intelligence of the community. It is the power of the ignorant multitude by which they are supported, and I conceive that America will never be a respectable nation in the eyes of the world, till the extreme democracy of our Constitution is done away with, and there is a representation of the property rather than of the population of the country. You feel nothing of the oppressive, despotic sway of the _soi-disant_ Republicans, but we feel it in all its bitterness, and know that it is far worse than that of the most despotic sovereigns in Europe. With such men there can be no union.
“The repulsion of British invasion is the duty, and will be the pride, of every American; but, while prepared to bare his arm in defence of his much-wronged country against a proud and arrogant, and, in some instances, a cruel, foe, he cannot be blind to the unprincipled conduct of her internal enemies, and such he must conceive the present ruling party to be.”
On December 19, 1814, his mother writes:–
“I was not a little astonished to hear you say, in one of your letters from Bristol, that you had earned money enough there to pay off your debts. I cannot help asking what debts you could have to discharge with your own earnings after receiving one thousand dollars a year from us, which we are very sure must have afforded you, even by your own account of your expenses, ample means for the payment of all just, fair, and honorable debts, and I hope you contract no others. We are informed by others that they made six hundred dollars a year not only pay all their expenses of clothing, board, travelling, learning the French language, etc., etc., but they were able out of it to purchase books to send home, and actually sent a large trunk full of elegant books. Now the person who told us that he did this has a father who is said to be worth a hundred and fifty thousand dollars; therefore the young man was not pinched for means, but was thus economical out of consideration to his parents, and to show his gratitude to them, as I suppose. Now think, my dear son, how much more your poor parents are doing for you, how good your dear brothers are to be satisfied with so little done for them in comparison with what we are doing for you, and let the thought stimulate you to more economy and industry. I greatly fear you have been falling off in both these since the eclat you received for your first performances. It has always been a failing of yours, as soon as you found you could excel in what you undertook, to be tired of it and not trouble yourself any further about it. I was in hopes that you had got over this fickleness ere this…
“You must not expect to paint anything in this country, for which you will receive any money to support you, but portraits; therefore do everything in your power to qualify you for painting and taking them in the best style. That is all your hope here, and to be very obliging and condescending to those who are disposed to employ you….
“I think young Leslie is a very estimable young man to be, as I am told he is, supporting himself and assisting his widowed mother by his industry.”
I shall anticipate a little in order to give at once the son’s answer to this reproof. He writes on April 28, 1815:–
“I wish I could persuade my parents that they might place some little confidence in my judgment at the age I now am (nearly twenty-four), an age when, in ordinary people, the judgment has reached a certain degree of maturity. It is a singular and, I think, an unfortunate fact that I have not, that I recollect, since I have been in England, had a turn of low spirits except when I have received letters from home. It is true I find a great deal of affectionate solicitude in them, but with it I also find so much complaint and distrust, so much fear that I am doing wrong, so much doubt as to my morals and principles, and fear lest I should be led away by bad company and the like, that, after I have read them, I am miserable for a week. I feel as though I had been guilty of every crime, and I have passed many sleepless nights after receiving letters from you. I shall not sleep to-night in consequence of passages in your letters just received.”
Here he quotes from his mother’s letter and answers:
“Now as to the young man’s living for six hundred dollars, I know who it is of whom you speak. It is Dr. Parkman, who made it his boast that he would live for that sum, but you did not enquire _how_ he lived. I can tell you. He never refused an invitation to dine, breakfast, or tea, which he used to obtain often by pushing himself into everybody’s company. When he did not succeed in getting invitations, he invited himself to breakfast, dine, or sup with some of his friends. He has often walked up to breakfast with us, a distance of three or four miles. If he failed in getting a dinner or meal at any of these places, he either used to go without, or a bit of bread answered the purpose till next meal. In his dress he was so shabby and uncouth that any decent person would be ashamed to walk with him in the street. Above all, his notorious meanness in his money matters, his stickling with his poor washerwoman for a halfpenny and with others for a farthing, and his uniform stinginess on all occasions rendered him notoriously disgusting to all his acquaintances, and affords, I should imagine, but a poor example for imitation….
“The fact is I could live for _fifty_ pounds a year if my only object was to live cheap, and, on the other hand, if I was allowed one thousand pounds a year, I could spend it all without the least extravagance in obtaining greater advantages in my art. But as your goodness has allowed me but two hundred pounds (and I wish you again to receive my sincere thanks for this allowance), should not my sole endeavor be to spend all this to the utmost advantage; to keep as closely within the bounds of that allowance as possible, and would not _economy_ in this instance consist in rigidly keeping up to this rule? If this is a true statement of the case, then have I been perfectly economical, for I have not yet overrun my allowance, and I think I shall be able to return home without having exceeded it a single shilling. If I have done this, and still continue to do it, why, in every letter I receive from home, is the injunction repeated of _being economical?_ It makes me exceedingly unhappy, especially when I am conscious of having used my utmost endeavors, ever since I have been in England, to be rigidly so.
“As to _industry_, in which mama fears I am falling off, I gave you an account in my last letter (by Mr. Ralston) of the method I use in parcelling out my time. Since writing that letter the spring and summer are approaching fast, and the days increasing. Of course I can employ more of the time than in the winter. Mr. Leslie and myself rise at five o’clock in the morning and walk about a mile and a half to Burlington, where are the famous Elgin Marbles, the works of Phidias and Praxiteles, brought by Lord Elgin from Athens. From these we draw three hours every morning, wet or dry, before breakfast, and return home just as the bustle begins in London, for they are late risers in London. When we go out of a morning we meet no one but the watchman, who goes his rounds for an hour and a half after we are up. Last summer Mr. Leslie and I used to paint in the open air in the fields three hours before breakfast, and often before sunrise, to study the morning effect on the landscape.
“Now, being conscious of employing my time in the most industrious manner possible, you can but faintly conceive the mortification and sorrow with which I read that part of mama’s letter. I was so much hurt that I read it to Mr. Allston, and requested he would write to you and give you an account of my spending my time. He seemed very much astonished when I read it to him, and _authorized me to tell you from him that it was impossible for any one to be more indefatigable in his studies than I am_.
“Mama mentions in her letter that she hears that Mr. Leslie supports his mother and sisters by his labors. This is not the case. Leslie was supported by three or four individuals in Philadelphia till within a few months past. About a year ago he sold a large picture which he painted (whilst I was on my fruitless trip to Bristol for money) for a hundred guineas. Since that he has had a number of commissions in portraits and is barely able to support himself; indeed, he tells me this evening that he has but L20 left. He is a very economical and a most excellent young man. His expenses in a year are, on an average, from L230 to L250; Mr. Allston’s (single) expenses not less than L300 per annum, and I know of no artist among all my acquaintance whose expenses in a year are less than L200.”
Returning now to the former chronological order, I shall include the following vehement letter written from London on December 22, 1814:–
MY DEAR PARENTS,–I arrived yesterday from Bristol, where I have been for several months past endeavoring to make a little in the way of my profession, but have completely failed, owing to several causes.
First, the total want of anything like partiality for the fine arts in that place; the people there are but a remove from brutes. A “Bristol hog” is as proverbial in this country as a “Charlestown gentleman” is in Boston. Their whole minds are absorbed in trade; barter and gain and interest are all they understand. If I could have painted a picture for half a guinea by which they could have made twenty whilst I starved, _I could have starved_.
Secondly, the virulence of national prejudice which rages now with tenfold acrimony. They no longer despise, they hate, the Americans. The battle on Champlain and before Flattsburgh has decided the business; the moans and bewailings for this business are really, to an American, quite comforting after their arrogant boasting of reducing us to unconditional submission.
Is it strange that I should feel a little the effects of this universal hatred? I have felt it, and I have left Bristol after six months’ perfect neglect. After having been invited there with promises of success, I have had the mortification to leave it without having, from Bristol, a single commission. More than that, and by far the worst, if I have not gone back in my art these six months, I have at least stood still, and to me this is the most trying reflection of all. I have been immured in the paralyzing atmosphere of trade till my mind was near partaking the infection. I have been listening to the grovelling, avaricious devotees of mammon, whose souls are narrowed to the studious contemplation of a hard-earned shilling, whose leaden imaginations never soared above the prospect of a good bargain, and whose _summum bonum_ is the inspiring idea of counting a hundred thousand: I say I have been listening to these miserly beings till the idea did not seem so repugnant of lowering my noble art to a trade, of painting for money, of degrading myself and the soul-enlarging art which I possess, to the narrow idea of merely getting money.
Fie on myself! I am ashamed of myself; no, never will I degrade myself by making a trade of a profession. If I cannot live a gentleman, I will starve a gentleman. But I will dismiss this unpleasant subject, the particulars of which I can better relate to you than write. Suffice it to say that my ill-treatment does not prey upon my spirits; I am in excellent health and spirits and have great reason to be thankful to Heaven for thousands of blessings which one or two reverses shall not make me forget. Reverses do I call them? How trifling are my troubles to the millions of my fellow creatures who are afflicted with all the dreadful calamities incident to this life. Reverses do I call them? No, they are blessings compared with the miseries of thousands.
Indeed, I am too ungrateful. If a thing does not result just as I wish, I begin to repine; I forget the load of blessings which I enjoy: life, health, parents whose kindness exceeds the kindest; brothers, relatives, and friends; advantages which no one else enjoys for the pursuit of a favorite art, besides numerous others; all which are forgotten the moment an unpleasant disappointment occurs. I am very ungrateful.
With respect to peace, I can only say I should not be surprised if the preliminaries were signed before January. My reasons are that Great Britain cannot carry on the war any longer. She may talk of her inexhaustible resources, but she well knows that the great resource, the property tax, must fail next April. The people will not submit any longer; they are taking strong measures to prevent its continuance, and without it they cannot continue the war.
Another great reason why I think there will be peace is the absolute _fear_ which they express of us. They fear the increase of our navy; they fear the increase of the army; they fear for Canada, and they are in dread of the further disgrace of their national character. Mr. Monroe’s plan for raising 100,000 men went like a shock through the country. They saw the United States assume an attitude which they did not expect, and the same men who cried for “war, war,” “thrash the Americans,” now cry most lustily for peace.
The union of the parties also has convinced them that we are determined to resist their most arrogant pretensions.
Love to all, brothers, Miss Russell, etc. Yours very affectionately, SAML. F. B. MORSE.
He ends the letter thus abruptly, probably realizing that he was beginning to tread on forbidden ground, but being unable to resist the temptation.
While from this letter and others we can form a just estimate of the character and temperament of the man, it is also well to learn the opinion of his contemporaries; I shall, therefore, quote from a letter to the elder Morse of the Dr. Romeyn, whom the son was so anxious to have his father see, also from a letter of Mr. Van Schaick to Dr. Romeyn.
The former was written in New York, on December 27, 1814.
“The enclosed letter of my friend Mr. Van Schaick will give you the information concerning your son which you desire. He has been intimately acquainted with your son for a considerable time. You may rely on his account, as he is not only a gentleman of unquestionable integrity, but also a professor of the Lord Christ. What I saw and heard of your son pleased me, and I cannot but hope he will repay all your anxieties and realize your reasonable expectations by his conduct and the standing which he must and will acquire in society by that conduct.”
Mr. Van Schaick’s letter was written also in New York, on December 14, 1814:–
“To those passages of Dr. Morse’s letter respecting his son, to which you have directed my attention, I hasten to reply without any form, because it will gratify me to relieve the anxiety of the parents of my friend. His religious and moral character is unexceptionally good. He feels strongly for his country and expresses those feelings among his American friends with great sensibility. I do not know that he ever indulges in any observations in the company of Englishmen which are calculated to injure his standing among them. But, my dear sir, you fully know that an American cannot escape the sting of illiberal and false charges against his country and even its moral character, unless he almost entirely withholds himself from society. It cannot be expected that any human being should be so unfeeling as to suffer indignity in total silence.
“But I do not think that any political collisions, which may incidentally and very infrequently arise, can injure him as an artist; for it is well known to you that the simple fact of his being an American is sufficient to prevent his rising rapidly into notice, since the possession of that character clogs the efforts, or, at least, somewhat clouds the fame of men of superior genius and established talent…. I advised Samuel to go to France and bury himself for six months in the Louvre; from thence to Italy, the seat of the arts. He inclined to the first part of the plan, and then to return home, but deferred putting it into execution till he heard from his father. Mr. Allston intended to winter in London. Morse has a fine taste and colors well. His drawing is capable of much improvement, but he is anxious to place himself at the head of his profession, and, with a little judicious encouragement, will probably succeed. That patient industry which has in all ages characterized the masters of the art, he will find it to his interest to apply to his studies the farther he advances in them. His success has been moderately good. If he could sell the pictures he has on hand, the avails would probably pay his way into France.”
Referring to these letters the father, writing on January 25, 1815, says:–
“We have had letters from Dr. Romeyn and Mr. Van Schaick concerning you which have comforted us much. Since receiving them we don’t know but we have expressed ourselves, in our letters in answer to your last, a little stronger than we ought in regard to your _political_ feelings and conduct. I find others who have returned feel pretty much as you do. But it should be remembered that your situation as an artist is different from theirs. It is your wisdom to leave politics to politicians and be solely the artist. But if you are in France these cautions will probably not be necessary, as you will have no temptation to enter into any political discussions.”
On the 3d of February, 1815, Morse, in writing to his parents, has a very sad piece of news to communicate to them:–
“I write in great haste and much agitation. Mrs. Allston, the wife of our beloved friend, died last evening, and the event overwhelmed us all in the utmost sorrow. As for Mr. Allston, for several hours after the death of his wife he was almost bereft of reason. Mr. Leslie and I are applying our whole attention to him, and we have so far succeeded as to see him more composed.”
This was a terrible grief to all the little coterie of friends, for whom the Allston house had been a home. One of them, Mr. J.J. Morgan, in a long letter to Morse written from Wiltshire, thus expresses himself:–
“Gracious God! unsearchable, indeed, are thy ways! The insensible, the brutish, the wicked are powerful and everywhere, in everything successful; while Allston, who is everything that is amiable, kind, and good, has been bruised, blow after blow, and now, indeed, his cup is full. I am too unwell, too little recovered from the effect of your letter, to write much. Coleridge intends writing to-day; I hope he will. Allston may derive some little relief from knowing how much his friends partake of his grief.”
This was a time of great discouragement to the young artist. Through the failure of some of his letters to reach his parents in time, he had not received their permission to go to France until it was too late for him to go. The death of Mrs. Allston cast a gloom over all the little circle, and, to cap the climax, he was receiving no encouragement in his profession. On March 10, 1815, he writes:–
“My jaunt to Bristol in quest of money completely failed. When I was first there I expected, from the little connection I got into, I should be able to support myself. I was obliged to come to town on account of the exhibitions, and stayed longer than I expected, intending to return to Bristol. During this time I received two pressing letters from. Mr. Visscher (which I will show you), inviting me to come down, saying that I should have plenty of business. I accordingly hurried off. A gentleman, for whom I had before painted two portraits, had promised, if I would let him have them for ten guineas apiece, twelve being my price, that he would procure me five sitters. This I acceded to. I received twenty guineas and have heard nothing from the man since, though I particularly requested Mr. Visscher to enquire and remind him of his promise. Yet he never did anything more on the subject. I was there three months, gaining nothing in my art and without a single commission. Mr. Breed, of Liverpool, then came to Bristol. He took two landscapes which I had been amusing myself with (for I can say nothing more of them) at ten guineas each. I painted two more landscapes which are unsold.
“Mr. Visscher, a man worth about a hundred thousand pounds, and whose annual expenses, with a large family of seven children, are not one thousand, had a little frame for which he repeatedly desired me to paint a picture. I told him I would as soon as I had finished one of my landscapes. I began it immediately, without his knowing it, and determined to surprise him with it. I also had two frames which fitted Mr. Breed’s pictures, and which I was going to give to Mr. Breed with his pictures. But Mr. Visscher was particularly pleased with the frames, as they were a pair, and told me not to send them to Mr. Breed as he should like to have them himself, and wished I would paint him pictures to fit them (the two other landscapes before mentioned). I accordingly was employed three months longer in painting these three pictures. I finished them; he was very much pleased with them; all his family were very much pleased with them; all who saw them were pleased with them. But he _declined taking them_ without even asking my price, and said that he had more pictures than he knew what to do with.
“Mr. and Mrs. Allston heard him say twenty times he wished I would paint him a picture for the frame. Mr. Allston, who knew what I was about, told him, no doubt, I would do it for him, and in a week after I had completed it. I had told Mr. Visscher also that I was considerably in debt, and that, when he had paid me for these pictures, I should be something in pocket; and, by his not objecting to what I said, I took it for granted (and from his requesting me to paint the picture) that the thing was certain. But thus it was, without giving any reason in the world, except that he had pictures enough, he declined taking them, making me spend three months longer in Bristol than I otherwise should have done; standing still in my art, if not actually going back; and forcing me to run in debt for some necessary expenses of clothing in Bristol, and my passage from and back to London. During all this time not a single commission for a portrait, _many_ of which were promised me, nor a single call from any one to look at my pictures. Thus ended my jaunt in quest of money.
“Do not think that this disappointment is in consequence of any misconduct of mine. Mr. Allston, who was with me, experienced the same treatment, and had it not been for his uncle, the American Consul, he might have starved for the Bristol people. His uncle was the only one who purchased any of his pictures. Since I have been in London I have been endeavoring to regain what I lost in Bristol, and I hope I have so far succeeded as to say: ‘_I have not gone back in my art_.’
“In order to retrench my expenses I have taken a painting-room out of the house, at about half of the expense of my former room. Though inconvenient in many respects, yet my circumstances require it and I willingly put up with it. As for _economy_, do not be at any more pains in introducing that personage to me. We have long been friends and necessary companions. If you could look in on me and see me through a day I think you would not tell me in every letter to _economize more_. It is impossible; I cannot economize more. I live on as plain food and as little as is for my health; less and plainer would make me ill, for I have given it a fair experiment. As for clothes, I have been decent and that is all. If I visited a great deal this would be a heavy expense, but, the less I go out, the less need I care for clothes, except for cleanliness. My only heavy expenses are colors, canvas, frames, etc., and these are heavy.”
A number of pages of this letter are missing, much to my regret. He must have been telling of some of the great events which were happening on the Continent, probably of the Return from Elba, for it begins again abruptly.
“–when he might have avoided it by quietness; by undertaking so bold an attempt as he has done without being completely sure of success, and having laid his plans deeply; and, thirdly, I knew the feelings of the French people were decidedly in his favor, more especially the military. They feel as though Louis XVIII was forced upon them by their conquerors; they feel themselves a conquered nation, and they look to Bonaparte as the only man who can retrieve their character for them.
“All these reasons rushing into my mind at the time, I gave it as my opinion that Napoleon would again be Emperor of the French, and again set the world by the ears, unless he may have learned a lesson from his adversity. But this cannot be expected. I fear we are apt yet to see a darker and more dreadful storm than any we have yet seen. This is, indeed, an age of wonders.
“Let what will happen in Europe, let us have peace at home, among ourselves more particularly. But the character we have acquired among the nations of Europe in our late contest with England, has placed us on such high ground that none of them, England least of all, will wish to embroil themselves with us.”
This was written just after peace had been established between England and America, and in a letter from his mother, written about the same time in March, 1815, she thus comments on the joyful news: “We have now the heartfelt pleasure of congratulating you on the return of peace between our country and Great Britain. May it never again be interrupted, but may both countries study the things that make for peace, and love as brethren.”
It never has been interrupted up to the present day, for, as I am pursuing my pleasant task of bringing these letters together for publication, in the year of our Lord 1911, the newspapers are agitating the question of a fitting commemoration of a hundred years of peace between Great Britain and the United States.
Further on in this same letter the mother makes this request of her son: “When you return we wish you to bring some excellent black or corbeau cloth to make your good father and brothers each a suit of clothes. Your papa also wishes you to get made a handsome black cloth cloak for him; one that will fit you he thinks will fit him. Be sure and attend to this. Your mama would like some grave colored silk for a gown, if it can be had but for little. Don’t forget that your mother is no dwarf, and that a large pattern suits her better than a small one.”
The letter of April 28, from which I have already quoted, has this sentence at the beginning: “Your letters suppose me in Paris, _but I am not there_; you hope that I went in October last; I intended going and wished it at that time exceedingly, but I had not leave from you to go and Mr. Bromfield advised me by no means to go until I heard from you. You must perceive from this case how impossible it is for me to form plans, and transmit them across the Atlantic for approbation, thus letting an opportunity slip which is irrecoverable.”
CHAPTER IX
MAY 3. 1815–OCTOBER 18, 1816
Decides to return home in the fall.–Hopes to return to Europe in a year.–Ambitions.–Paints “Judgment of Jupiter.”–Not allowed to compete for premium.–Mr. Russell’s portrait.–Reproof of his parents.–Battle of Waterloo.–Wilberforce.–Painting of “Dying Hercules” received by parents.–Much admired.–Sails for home.–Dreadful voyage lasting fifty-eight days.–Extracts from his journal.–Home at last.
It was with great reluctance that Morse made his preparations to return home. He thought that, could he but remain a year or two longer in an atmosphere much more congenial to an artist than that which prevailed in America at that time, he would surely attain to greater eminence in his profession.
He, in common with many others, imagined that, with the return of peace, an era of great prosperity would at once set in. But in this he was mistaken, for history records that just the opposite occurred. The war had made demands on manufacturers, farmers, and provision dealers which were met by an increase in inventions and in production, and this meant wealth and prosperity to many. When the war ceased, this demand suddenly fell off; the soldiers returning to their country swelled the army of the unemployed, and there resulted increased misery among the lower classes, and a check to the prosperity of the middle and upper classes. It would seem, therefore, that Fate dealt more kindly with the young man than he, at that time, realized; for, had he remained, his discouragements would undoubtedly have increased; whereas, by his return to his native land, although meeting with many disappointments and suffering many hardships, he was gradually turned into a path which ultimately led to fame and fortune.
On May 3, 1815, he writes to his parents:–
“With respect to returning home, I shall make my arrangements to be with you (should my life be spared) by the end of September next, or the beginning of October; but it will be necessary that I should be in England again (provided always Providence permits) by September following, as arrangements which I have made will require my presence. This I will fully explain when I meet you.
“The moment I get home I wish to begin work, so that I should like to have some portraits bespoken in season. I shall charge forty dollars less than Stuart for my portraits, so that, if any of my good friends are ready, I will begin the moment I have said ‘how do ye do’ to them.
“I wish to do as much as possible in the year I am with you. If I could get a commission or two for some large pictures for a church or public hall, to the amount of two or three thousand dollars, I should feel much gratified. I do not despair of such an event, for, through your influence with the clergy and their influence with their people, I think some commission for a scripture subject for a church might be obtained; a crucifixion, for instance.
“It may, perhaps, be said that the country is not rich enough to purchase large pictures; yes, but two or three thousand dollars can be paid for an entertainment which is gone in a day, and whose effects are to demoralize and debilitate, whilst the same sum expended on a fine picture would be adding an ornament to the country which would be lasting. It would tend to elevate and refine the public feeling by turning their thoughts from sensuality and luxury to intellectual pleasures, and it would encourage and support a class of citizens who have always been reckoned among the brightest stars in the constellation of American worthies, and who are, to this day, compelled to exile themselves from their country and all that is dear to them, in order to obtain a bare subsistence.
“I do not speak of _portrait-painters;_ had I no higher thoughts than being a first-rate portrait-painter, I would have chosen a far different profession. My ambition is to be among those who shall revive the splendor of the fifteenth century; to rival the genius of a Raphael, a Michael Angelo, or a Titian; my ambition is to be enlisted in the constellation of genius now rising in this country; I wish to shine, not by a light borrowed from them, but to strive to shine the brightest.
“If I could return home and stay a year visiting my friends in various parts of the Union, and, by painting portraits, make sufficient to bring me to England again at the end of the year, whilst I obtained commissions enough to employ me and support me while in England, I think, in the course of a year or two, I shall have obtained sufficient credit to enable me to return home, if not for the remainder of my life, at least to pay a good long visit.
“In all these plans I wish you to understand me as always taking into consideration _the will of Providence;_ and, in every plan for future operation, I hope I am not forgetful of the uncertainty of human life, and I wish always to say _should I live_ I will do this or that….
“I perceive by your late letters that you suppose I am painting a large picture. I did think of it some time ago and was only deterred on account of the expenses attending it. All this I will explain to your entire satisfaction when I see you, and why I do not think it expedient to make an exhibition when I return.
“I perceive also that you are a little too sanguine with respect to me and expect a little too much from me. You must recollect I am yet but a student and that a picture of any merit is not painted in a day. Experienced as Mr. West is (and he also paints quicker than any other artist), his last large picture cost him between three and four years’ constant attention. Mr. Allston was nearly two years in painting his large picture. Young Haydon was three years painting his large picture, is now painting another on which he has been at work one year and expects to be two years more on it. Leslie was ten months painting his picture, and my ‘Hercules’ cost me nearly a year’s study. So you see that large pictures are not the work of a moment.
“All these matters we will talk over one of these days, and all will be set right. I had better paint Miss Russell’s, Aunt Salisbury’s, and Dr. Bartlett’s pictures at home for a very good reason I will give you.”
He did, however, complete a large historical, or rather mythological, painting before leaving England. Whether it was begun before or after writing the foregoing letter, I do not know, but Mr. Dunlap (whom I have already quoted) has this to say about it:–
“Encouraged by the flattering reception of his first works in painting and in sculpture, the young artist redoubled his energies in his studies and determined to contend for the highest premium in historical composition offered by the Royal Academy at the beginning of the year 1814. The subject was ‘The Judgment of Jupiter in the case of Apollo, Marpessa and Idas.’ The premium offered was a gold medal and fifty guineas. The decision was to take place in December of 1815. The composition containing four figures required much study, but, by the exercise of great diligence, the picture was completed by the middle of July.
“Our young painter had now been in England four years, one year longer than the time allowed him by his parents, and he had to return immediately home; but he had finished his picture under the conviction, strengthened by the opinion of West, that it would be allowed to remain and compete with those of the other candidates. To his regret the petition to the council of the Royal Academy for this favor, handed in to them by West and advocated strongly by him and Fuseli, was not granted. He was told that it was necessary, according to the rules of the Academy, that the artist should be present to receive the premium; it could not be received by proxy. Fuseli expressed himself in very indignant terms at the narrowness of this decision.
“Thus disappointed, the artist had but one mode of consolation. He invited West to see his picture before he packed it up, at the same time requesting Mr. West to inform him through Mr. Leslie, after the premium should be adjudged in December, what chance he would have had if he had remained. Mr. West, after sitting before the picture for a long time, promised to comply with the request, but added: ‘You had better remain, sir.'”
In a letter quoted, without a date, by Mr. Prime, which was written from Bristol, but which seems to have been lost, I find the following:–
“James Russell, Esq., has been extremely attentive to me. He has a very fine family consisting of four daughters and, I think, a son who is absent in the East Indies. The daughters are very beautiful, accomplished, and amiable, especially the youngest, Lucy. I came very near being at my old game of falling in love, but I find that love and painting are quarrelsome companions, and that the house of my heart is too small for both of them; so I have turned Mrs. Love out-of-doors. Time enough, thought I (with true old bachelor complacency), time enough for you these ten years to come. Mr. Russell’s portrait I have painted as a present to Miss Russell, and will send it to her as soon as I can get an opportunity. It is an excellent likeness of him.”
He must either have said more in this letter, or have written another after the family verdict (that terrible family verdict) had been pronounced, for in the letter of April 23, 1815, from which I have already quoted, he refers to this portrait as follows:–
“As to the portrait which I painted of Mr. Russell, I am sorry you mentioned it to Miss Russell, as I particularly requested that you would not, because, in case of failure, it would be a disappointment to her; but as you have told her, I must now explain. In the first place it is not a picture that will do me any credit. I was unfortunate in the light which I chose to paint him in; I wished to make it my best picture and so made it my worst, for I worked too timidly on it. It is a likeness, indeed, a very strong likeness, but the family are not pleased with it, and they say that I have not flattered him, that I have made him too old. So I determined I would not send it, indeed, I promised them I would not send it; but, notwithstanding, as I know Miss Russell will be good enough to comply with my conditions, I will send it directly; for, as it is a good likeness, every one except the family knowing it instantly, and Mr. Allston saying that it is a _very strong likeness_, it will on that account be a gratification to her. But I _particularly_ and _expressly request_ that it be kept in a private room to be shown _only_ to friends and relations, and that I _may never be mentioned as the painter;_ and, moreover, that no _artist_ or _miniature painter_ be allowed to see it. On these conditions I send it, taking for granted they will be complied with, and without waiting for an answer.”
The parents of that generation were not frugal of counsel and advice, even when their children had reached years of discretion and had flown far away from the family nest.
The father, in a letter of May 20, 1815, thus gently reproves his son:–
“To-day we have received your letters to March 23…. You evidently misconceived our views in the letters to which you allude, and felt much too strongly our advice and remarks in respect to your writing us so much on politics. What we said was the affectionate advice of your parents, who loved you very tenderly, and who were not unwilling you should judge for yourself though you might differ from them. We have ever made a very candid allowance for you, and so have all your friends, and we have never for a moment believed we should differ a fortnight after you should come home and converse with us. You have, in the ardor of feeling, construed many observations in our letters as censuring you and designed to wound your feelings, which were not intended in the remotest degree by us for any such purpose….
“I am sorry to hear of the death of Mr. Thornton. He was a good man.”
His mother was much less gentle in her reproof. I cull the following sentences from a long letter of June 1, 1815:–
“In perfect consistency with the feelings towards you all, above described, we may and ought to tell you, and that with the greatest plainness, of anything that we deem improper in any part of your conduct, either in a civil, social, or religious view. This we feel it our duty to do and shall continue to do as long as we live; and it will ever be your duty to receive from us the advice, counsel, and reproof, which we may, from time to time, favor you with, with the most perfect respect and dutiful observance; and, when you differ from us on any point whatever, let that difference be conveyed to us in the most delicate and gentlemanly manner. Let this be done not only while you are under age and dependent on your parents for your support, but when you are independent, and when you are head of a family, and even of a profession, if you ever should be either…. I have dwelt longer on this subject, as I think you have, in some of your last letters, been somewhat deficient in that respect which your own good sense will at once convince you was, on all accounts, due, and which I know you feel the propriety of without any further observations.”
On June 2, 1815, the father writes:–
“We have just received a letter from your uncle, James E.B. Finley, of Carolina. He fears you will remain in Europe, but hopes you have so much _amor patrice_ as to return and display your talents in raising the military and naval glory of the nation, by exhibiting on canvas some of her late naval and land actions, and also promote the fine arts among us. He is, you know, an enthusiastic Republican and patriot and a warm approver of the late war, but an amiable, excellent man. I am by no means certain that it would not be best for you to come home this fall and spend a year or two in this country in painting some portraits, but especially historical pieces and landscapes. You might, I think, in this way succeed in getting something to support you afterwards in Europe for a few years.
“I hope the time is not distant when artists in your profession, and of the first class, will be honorably patronized and supported in this country. In this case you can come and live with us, which would give us much satisfaction.”
The young man still took a deep interest in affairs political, and speculated rather keenly on the outcome of the tremendous happenings on the Continent.
On June 26, 1815, he writes:–
“You will have heard of the dreadful battle in Flanders before this reaches you. The loss of the English is immense, indeed almost all their finest officers and the flower of their army; not less than 800 officers and upwards of 15,000 men, some say 20,000. But it has been decisive if the news of to-day be true, that Napoleon has abdicated. What the event of these unparalleled times will be no mortal can pretend to foresee. I have much to tell you when I see you. Perhaps you had better not write after the receipt of this, as it may be more than two months before an answer could be received.
“P.S. The papers of to-night confirm the news of this morning. Bonaparte is no longer a dangerous man; he has abdicated, and, in all probability, a republican form of government will be the future government of France, if they are capable of enjoying such a government. But no one can foresee events; there may be a long peace, or the world may be torn worse than it yet has been. Revolution seems to succeed revolution so rapidly that, in looking back on our lives, we seem to have lived a thousand years, and wonders of late seem to scorn to come alone; they come in clusters.”
The battle in Flanders was the battle of Waterloo, which was fought on the 18th day of June, and on the 6th of July the allied armies again entered Paris. Referring to these events many years later, Morse said:–
“It was on one of my visits, in the year 1815, that an incident occurred which well illustrates the character of the great philanthropist [Mr. Wilberforce]. As I passed through Hyde Park on my way to Kensington Gore, I observed that great crowds had gathered, and rumors were rife that the allied armies had entered Paris, that Napoleon was a prisoner, and that the war was virtually at an end; and it was momentarily expected that the park guns would announce the good news to the people.
“On entering the drawing-room at Mr. Wilberforce’s I found the company, consisting of Mr. Thornton [his memory must have played him false in this particular as Mr. Thornton died some time before], Mr. Macaulay, Mr. Grant, the father, and his two sons Robert and Charles, and Robert Owen of Lanark, in quite excited conversation respecting the rumors that prevailed. Mr. Wilberforce expatiated largely on the prospects of a universal peace in consequence of the probable overthrow of Napoleon, whom naturally he considered the great disturber of the nations. At every period, however, he exclaimed: ‘It is too good to be true, it cannot be true.’ He was altogether skeptical in regard to the rumors.
“The general subject, however, was the absorbing topic at the dinner-table. After dinner the company joined the ladies in the drawing-room. I sat near a window which looked put in the direction of the distant park. Presently a flash and a distant dull report of a gun attracted my attention, but was unnoticed by the rest of the company. Another flash and report assured me that the park guns were firing, and at once I called Mr. Wilberforce’s attention to the fact. Running to the window he threw it up in time to see the next flash and hear the report. Clasping his hands in silence, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, he stood for a few moments perfectly absorbed in thought, and, before uttering a word, embraced his wife and daughters, and shook hands with every one in the room. The scene was one not to be forgotten.”
We learn from a letter of his mother’s dated June 27, 1815, that the painting of the “Dying Hercules” had at last been received, but that the plaster cast of the same subject was still mysteriously missing. The painting was much admired, and the mother says:–
“Your friend Mr. Tisdale says the picture of the Hercules ought to be in Boston as the beginning of a gallery of paintings, and that the Bostonians ought not to permit it to go from here. Whether they will or not, I know not. I place no confidence in them, but they may take a fit into their heads to patronize the fine arts, and, in that case, they have it in their power undoubtedly to do as much as any city in this country towards their support.”
Morse had now made up his mind to return home, although his parents, in their letters of that time, had given him leave to stay longer if he thought it would be for his best interest, but his father had made it clear that he must, from this time forth, depend on his own exertions. He hoped that (Providence permitting) he need only spend a year at home in earning enough money to warrant his returning to Europe. Providence, however, willed otherwise, and he did not return to Europe until fourteen years later.
The next letter is dated from Liverpool, August 8, 1815, and is but a short one. I shall quote the first few sentences:–
“I have arrived thus far on my way home. I left London the 5th and arrived in this place yesterday the 7th, at which time, within an hour, four years ago, I landed in England. I have not yet determined by what vessel to return; I have a choice of a great many. The Ceres is the first that sails, but I do not like her accommodations. The Liverpool packet sails about the 25th, and, as she has always been a favorite ship with me, it is not improbable I may return in her.”
He decided to sail in the Ceres, however, to his sorrow, for the voyage home was a long and dreadful one. The record of those terrible fifty-eight days, carefully set down in his journal, reads like an Odyssey of misfortune and almost of disaster.
To us of the present day, who cross the ocean in a floating hotel, in a few days, arriving almost on the hour, the detailed account of the dangers, discomforts, and privations suffered by the travellers of an earlier period seems almost incredible. Brave, indeed, were our fathers who went down to the sea in ships, for they never knew when, if ever, they would reach the other shore, and there could be no C.Q.D. or S.O.S. flashed by wireless in the Morse code to summon assistance in case of disaster. In this case storm succeeded storm; head winds were encountered almost all the way across; fine weather and fair winds were the exception, and provisions and fresh water were almost exhausted.
The following quotations from the journal will give some idea of the terrors experienced by the young man, whose appointed time had not yet arrived. He still had work to do in the world which could be done by no other.
“_Monday, August 21, 1815._ After waiting fourteen days in Liverpool for a fair wind, we set sail at three o’clock in the afternoon with the wind at southeast, in company with upwards of two hundred sail of vessels, which formed a delightful prospect. We gradually lost sight of different vessels as it approached night, and at sunset they were dispersed all over the horizon. In the night the wind sprung up strong and fair, and in the morning we were past Holyhead.
“_Tuesday, 22d August._ Wind directly ahead; beating all day; thick weather and gales of wind; passengers all sick and I not altogether well. Little progress to-day.
“_Wednesday, 23d August._ A very disagreeable day, boisterous, head winds and rainy. Beating across the channel from the Irish to the Welsh coast.