Homes of American Statesmen; With Anecdotical, Personal, and Descriptive Sketches

It was after the close of the French War that Mr. Clinton was married to Mary DeWitt. She is represented as having been beautiful in her youth – an only sister, with nine brothers. To them four sons were born, of whom DeWitt was the second. The date of his birth is well settled – being the year 1769; – not so the place. Many of his biographers unite in stating that this was Little Britain, in Orange County, where his father resided. Some assert that he was born at New Windsor, in the same county, in a house still standing, and which can be seen from the river; while others relate the tradition that his parents were on a visit to the fort at Minisink, then under the command of Colonel DeWitt, a brother of Mrs. Clinton; that a severe and long-continued snow-storm occurred, and that the mother was there confined.

On his education it is scarcely necessary to dwell, farther than to trace its influence on his subsequent career. His parents bestowed on him that inestimable gift – the best education that the State could afford – first at Kingston Academy, and subsequently at Columbia College. The professors' chairs were filled by eminent men, who appear to have appreciated the talents of their pupil. He was the first graduate after the Revolution.

At the age of seventeen he commenced the study of the law with the elder Samuel Jones, whose eminence as an advocate, and honesty as a high state officer, still linger amongst our earliest reminiscences.

Thus prepared, as well by preliminary instruction as by earnest self-improvement, he was about entering on the profession of the law, with elders and contemporaries equal to any bar in the Union, when his destiny was at once and permanently changed. He was the nephew of George Clinton, the governor of the young State of New-York; distinguished by his civil and military talents; admirably qualified to guide the rising republic through its forming stages, although possibly too tenacious of his peculiar opinions, and, unfortunately, too long opposed to the adoption of the Constitution.

The parties that from time to time controlled the destinies of the country were now in active collision. In the State of New-York, Jay and Hamilton were the leaders and guides of the Federalists, and Governor Clinton needed all the intellectual aid that could be brought to bear on the contest. He selected his nephew as his private secretary, and the sagacity, at least, of the choice has never been disputed. Several papers on subjects of public and permanent interest, known to have emanated from the pen of DeWitt Clinton, are still preserved.

We are told that he remained in this station until 795 – the close of the long administration (continued by re-elections) of his uncle.

In 1797, he was elected a member of the Assembly from the city of New-York, and the next year, of the Senate. The tenure of the first of these was annual, and of the last for four years. From the above date to the hour of his death, with short intervals, he continued to be chosen in succession to the Senate, and as lieutenant-governor and governor. He was for the space of two years a member of the United States Senate. From 1803 to 1807, and from 1808 to 1815, he served as mayor of the city of New-York. This is a brief outline of the situations he held, and it is only necessary to fill up the sketch with notices of what he proposed and accomplished, to complete the picture.

His "homes," with the brief exception of two winters at Washington, were, of course, mainly in New-York and Albany.

In the former, his town residence was at the lower end of Broadway – then the fashionable part of the city, and where wealthy bankers, and merchants, and distinguished professional men loved to fix their dwellings. At a short distance from the Bowling-green and the Battery, the breezes from the ocean occasionally found their way and shed their influences. Commerce has commanded the removal of most of these private residences, and she has been rigidly obeyed. The merchandise of the Old and of the New World needs still increasing depositories.

While remaining in New-York, he owned a country-seat at Maspeth, on Long Island, to which he frequently resorted, and where he indulged in his favorite pursuits of angling and hunting. He was greatly attached to these, until in after life an unfortunate accident rendered active exercise too laborious.

Of Albany, the place in which a large portion of his mature life was spent, we feel some constraint in giving, what we consider, a just account. By many, even intelligent travellers, it is only known as a place of transfer from steamboats and railroads – as excessively hot in summer, and as the capital of the State, where the Legislature holds its sessions during the winter.

But its antiquities – if antiquities are to be spoken of in this country – are of some interest. Here an American Congress once assembled, of which Franklin was a member. Whenever England and France contended for mastery on this continent, many of the officers and troops of the former halted here for a while, or passed on for the finally accomplished object of the conquest of Canada. Here for a time were Howe and Abercrombie, Amherst and Sir William Johnson; while, to the French, it seems to have been the limit, which, though they burnt Schenectady and ravaged the western part of the State, they seemed scarcely able to reach.

Passing over intermediate occurrences, during the war of 1812 there was here concentrated a large portion of the military force of the United States, which went forth in all the pomp and circumstance of war to its mingled career of defeat and success.

Two dwellings still remain in Albany dear to Revolutionary memory – the residences of General Philip Schuyler and General Abraham Ten Broeck. The latter was distinguished as a brave and capable militia officer. The services and talents of the former are not as yet sufficiently appreciated. The wise man – the trusted of Washington – the able statesman – who early pointed out the way to internal improvement in the State of New-York, only needs an impartial and well-instructed biographer to be duly known.

It is a matter of satisfaction that both of these residences – crowning heights north and south of the city – are in excellent preservation, owned by wealthy persons, and destined, we may hope, to a long existence.

Governor Clinton occupied during his residence in Albany (part of the time he was out of office) two different houses, which possess an interest only inferior to those we have just mentioned. One of them, formerly almost a country residence, – built by Peter W. Yates, an eminent counsellor at law, and now owned by another of the same name, – was, for a series of years, the dwelling-place of governors of the State of New-York. Here Tompkins dispensed his hospitality, while he wielded, in a manner but partially understood, the destinies of the nation during the war of 1812; and from this beautiful seat he departed, in an evil hour to himself, to be Vice-President of the United States. Clinton succeeded. In this house he met with a severe accident, – a fracture of the knee-pan from a fall; after a slow recovery he was enabled to use the limb with but slight indication of the injury. Still it prevented him from taking exercise on horseback, to which he had been much accustomed, and it probably led to an increased fulness of habit, in the later years of his life.

Subsequently to this he occupied a house (it was that in which he died) in Pearl-street, built by Goldsboro Banyer, one of the last deputy Secretaries of State of the Colony of New-York. It was bequeathed to his son's widow, a daughter of Governor Jay, and on her removal to New-York, was taken as a governor's residence.

It would scarcely be proper to conclude these sketches, without briefly enumerating the services of DeWitt Clinton to his State and country. Most of these were thought of, developed and produced ready for adoption, within the sacred precincts of his "home."

As mayor of New-York, he was at that time head of the judicial department of the city. Subsequently that officer has been relieved of these duties, and several local courts have been found necessary, to dispose of the cases which the tangled relations of commerce are constantly bringing forth. Some records of his ability both as a civil and a criminal judge still remain. A Catholic priest had been called upon to disclose what had been communicated to him at the confessional. In his opinion, Mr. Clinton sustained the sacred nature of the secret thus imparted, and subsequent legislation, doubtless founded on this case, extended the exemption not only to the clergyman, but also to the physician. He also aided with great energy in putting down and punishing riots, caused by excited political feelings. Nor should we omit to say, that before him was tried the peculiar case of Whistelo, in which the wit of Counsellor Sampson, and the peculiarities of Dr. Samuel Latham Mitchill were equally conspicuous.

As a member of the Senate of New-York, he became ex officio also a member of the highest court in the State – the court for the trial of impeachments, and the correction of errors in the inferior courts. Several of his decisions are to be found in the volumes of New-York State Reports. He grappled with the subjects of insurance law, of libel, the power of committing for contempt, the construction of the Habeas Corpus Act, and the effect of foreign admiralty decisions. "Some of these," says Chancellor Kent, "are models of judicial and parliamentary eloquence, and they all relate to important questions, affecting constitutional rights and personal liberty. They partake more of the character of a statesman's discussions, than that of a dry technical lawyer, and are therefore more interesting to the general scholar."

As a legislator, it is quite sufficient to refer to the long list of laws drawn up and supported by him, as it is given in the eighth chapter of Professor Renwick's life, to appreciate the high class of subjects to which he applied his best efforts. We select only a portion. An act respecting a digest of the public laws of the State. An act to enlarge the powers of and to endow the Orphan Asylum society, – to amend the insolvent laws, to prevent the inhuman treatment of slaves, for the support of the quarantine establishment, to revise and amend the militia law, to incorporate the society for the relief of poor widows with small children, for promoting medical science, for the further encouragement of free schools, for securing to mechanics and others, payment for their labor and materials in the city of New-York. It has been urged that others by their efforts, or their votes, have been as useful as was Mr. Clinton, in procuring the passage of these and similar laws. Be it so. It is not even attempted to deny this. It would be treason to the great interests of humanity to claim exclusive honor for a single man. But he knows little of practical legislation, who is not perfectly aware how efficient and important it is to have one individual, eminent in talents, high in power, who is willing to initiate useful measures – propose their adoption, and support them with his best abilities.

In the matter of the Canals of New-York, this is his high honor; this his crowning glory. Even during life, he gave due credit to all who suggested or supported the work; but his pre-eminent merit is, that he adopted the canal policy as his own party policy. It has been said, in words which cannot be bettered, that "in the great work of internal improvement, he persevered through good report and through evil report, with a steadiness of purpose that no obstacle could divert; and when all the elements were in commotion around him, and even his chosen associates were appalled, he alone, like Columbus, on the wide waste of waters, in his frail bark with a dis-heartened and unbelieving crew, remained firm, self-poised and unshaken."

Heaven in its goodness allowed life till the great work was completed.

Of Governor Clinton's devotion to science and to literature, of his patronage and support of societies and institutions, for their diffusion, all are knowing; but it is not sufficiently understood, that these were amateur pursuits, followed during hours that he could scarcely spare from his legitimate duties. Whatever of imperfection or of crudeness may therefore be found in them, should be charitably considered.

His domestic habits were simple and unobtrusive. He was industrious through life – the earliest riser in the house – frequently, if not generally, making his office fire in the winter, and dispatching most of his voluminous correspondence before the breakfast hour.

In his family, he was every thing that became a man – a kind and faithful husband; an affectionate, indeed indulgent father; a warm, devoted, and often self-sacrificing friend. What wonder is it, that his memory should continue to be cherished with sincere love and ever increasing esteem.

STORY

It is a common saying among lawyers, that in proportion to the labor which their profession exacts, and the degree of distinction which success confers upon them during their lifetime, their fate is a hard one in the struggle for immortality. They are accustomed to say in a tone of half complaint, that the zeal and ability which would earn for them a cheap celebrity in some other pursuit, is expended upon the establishing of some nice distinction, or the solving of some intricate problem which no one but themselves can appreciate, and in which no one but themselves (and their clients) take any interest. There is some truth in all this. The whole community stands ready to read the last production of the literary man, so only that he make it worth reading, and often without requiring even so much; whereas, the neatest point that a lawyer could take is constitutionally repulsive to one-half of creation, and dry and unmeaning to the greater part of the remainder. Even those whose names are on the lips of men, owe their good fortune often to something other than their law. If Blackstone were not among the most classical writers of the English language, we should not have lived to see twenty-one English editions of his Commentaries. He was probably a less profound lawyer than several sergeants who practised before him in the Court of Common Pleas, whose names would escape an insertion in the most Universal Biographical Dictionary. So the successful lawyer must content himself with his worldly prosperity, – if in his lifetime he receives his good things, that must be his comfort, and in truth it is no small one.

But the nature of a lawyer's employment, even if he combine with it the kindred one of politics and legislation, is not apt to invest his home with that attraction to the stranger which the home of the literary man possesses. We are at once interested to know who the author is, who has charmed us by the quaintness of his conceits, or the freshness and purity of his style. We want to see the house and the room, where those intricate plots are matured, or those lifelike characters are first conceived. But Coke upon Littleton, seems pretty much the same, whether read upon the green slope of a country hill, or in the third story of an office down town. Besides, the author is at liberty to seek the most secluded spots, and dwell amongst the most romantic scenery, and surround himself with all that makes life beautiful to contemplate; and it is for his interest to do this, in order that his mind may be kept open to impressions, his spirits elevated and serene, and his whole life calm and happy. The lawyer on the other hand, must seek communion, not with nature, but with men; he must dwell among large communities, and rail even there where merchants most do congregate.

The home of the distinguished lawyer and statesman whose name is placed at the head of these lines, is an exception from the homes of others of his peers; if it be true that it is the fate of a lawyer's home to be an object of interest to its inmates alone. There was something in his frank, enthusiastic and generous nature, which made him always susceptible to the influences of home, and always fitted to awake and to wield those enchantments with which a home is invested. The secluded peninsula of Marblehead, with its long firm beach upon one side, and its rocky precipitous shore upon the other, begirt on three sides by the ever-changing Atlantic, is considered by his biographer to have had its effect in moulding the character of the boy; and in the quiet, tame inland beauty of Cambridge, with its academical proprieties, and its level streets, and its spacious marshes, through which the winding Charles "slips seaward silently;" many remain outside of the family circle, to testify to the magical attraction which once hung about the narrow brick house where he lived, and the cordial greeting which the visitor received at the hands of its former occupant.

Judge Story was born in the antiquated, primeval fishing town of Marblehead; a town presenting such a rocky and barren surface, that when Whitfield entered it for the first time, he was fain to inquire, "Pray, where do they bury their dead?" Story himself speaks of his birth-place as "a secluded fishing town, having no general connection with other towns, and, not being a thoroughfare, without that intercourse which brings strangers to visit it, or to form an acquaintance with its inhabitants." In fact it could not well be a thoroughfare, since it leads only from Salem to the sea, and the inhabitants of the latter town have a sufficiently ready access of their own. But though Marblehead with its scanty soil, and its isolated position, is neither an Eden nor a thoroughfare, it is at least a stout old place where men are grown; where an entire regiment was furnished for the cause of American Independence, completely officered and manned by brave men, to whom the dangers of war were but a continuation of previous lives of peril, and who supplied besides more privateers than history has recorded, to harass the enemy upon an element with which they were more familiar.

The town of Marblehead is supported by the fishery business. A large portion of its inhabitants are simple fishermen, whose manhood is passed in voyages to the Great Banks, and voyages back; a constant succession of those perils which are incident to the sea, with long winter evenings of sailors' yarns and ghost stories, in one monotonous round, till they finally depart

"On that drear voyage from whose night

The ominous shadows never lift."

It was among a population of this kind, and at a time when a long and disastrous war had crippled their resources, that the youthful Story began with his accustomed enthusiasm to acquire that education whose root is bitter when grown in the most favorable soil. Without advantages of good schooling, or a plentiful supply of books, he did what thousands of others, great and small, have done and are doing; that is, he acquired an education without the modern improvements on which our boys rely, and whose value their parents and teachers are so apt to over-estimate. In the shop of the Marblehead barber, the village great men assembled to hear the news, and to hold forth upon the condition and prospects of the young republic, as well as to have their ambrosial locks powdered and their beards removed. Here, in place of the modern lecture room, our young hero resorted, and listened reverently to oracular utterances from wise mouths in the intervals of the shaving brush and the razor. The village barber himself, endowed with an easy garrulity, more natural and professional than the stately reserve of his metropolitan brother, could, at his leisure, retail the wisdom of his many councillors, diluted to the point where it admitted of the mental digestion of a child.

This, together with the usual toils and discouragements of the classics, and the hopes and fears which a college examination inspires, made up a boy's life in Marblehead before this century began. The old Judge, late in life recalling these early Marblehead times, speaks of other influences, some of whose effect is, we imagine, derived from the fact that he is viewing them in his maturity, as they then appear, softened as seen down the long vista of nearly forty years. "My delight," he says, "was to roam over the narrow and rude territory of my native town; to traverse its secluded beaches and its shallow inlets; to gaze upon the sleepless ocean; to lay myself down on the sunny rocks, and listen to the deep tones of the rising and the falling tides; to look abroad when the foaming waves were driven with terrific force and uproar against the barren cliffs or the rocky promontories, which every where opposed their immovable fronts to resist them; to seek, in the midst of the tremendous majesty of an eastern storm, some elevated spot, where, in security, I could mark the mountain billow break upon the distant shore, or dash its broken waters over the lofty rocks which here and there stood along the coast, naked and weather-beaten. But still more was I pleased in a calm, summer day, to lay myself down alone on one of the beautiful heights which overlook the harbor of Salem, and to listen to the broken sounds of the hammers in the distant ship-yards, or to the soft dash of the oar of some swift-moving boat, or to the soft ripple of the murmuring wave; or to gaze on the swelling sail, or the flying bird, or the scarcely moving smoke, in a revery of delicious indolence."

When Story left Marblehead and entered Harvard College in 1795, he was brought in contact with somewhat different circumstances and different temptations from those which there await the youthful student in these days. Coming from a small and tolerably illiterate fishing town, into the midst of such literary shades, being in daily converse with young men at an age when the mind is lively, and full of the easy self-confidence which the mutual flattery of a College begets, his enthusiasm was quickened anew, and his generous nature attacked on its weakest side. "I seemed," he says, "to breathe a higher atmosphere, and to look abroad with a wider vision and more comprehensive powers. Instead of the narrow group of a village, I was suddenly brought into a large circle of young men engaged in literary pursuits, and warmed and cheered by the hopes of future eminence." There is, perhaps, no impropriety in saying, that at fifteen, we look abroad with a wider vision and more comprehensive powers than we do at twelve, and such young men as Channing, his friendly rival in College, and Tuckerman, his chum, might well be warmed and cheered by the hopes of future eminence. The students in those days enjoyed as much seclusion as now, with perhaps a little less general culture and a little more dissipation. But, as we have intimated, in some respects the changes were greater. The anti-republican system of "fagging" had not then become quite obsolete and forgotten, but existed at least in oral tradition, whereas now, its less rigorous substitute has recently fallen into disuse. In those days there was not even an unsuccessful attempt, to render the intercourse between the Professors and the students in any sense parental, but the formal and unconfiding manners of the old school were preached, as well as practised. The line of division between the College and the town was sharply drawn and unhesitatingly maintained on the part of the former, and the opportunities for social intercourse with Boston were comparatively limited, when omnibuses were unknown, and the bridge regarded as a somewhat hazardous speculation. Now the students are to be seen in Washington street on Saturdays, and there is scarce an evening's entertainment in Boston, without young representatives from Cambridge. And the old town itself has added so many new houses to its former number, that a great change is coming over the face of Cambridge society. The term "the season" is beginning to have its proper significance, the winter months being pretty well filled with the customary social observances. It is true that the College is still the controlling element. Festivities are mostly suspended during the first two months of the year, which is the time of the winter vacation, and revive again with the return of the spring and the students. But from faint symptoms which may be detected by the anxious observer, there is reason to fear that it may not be long before the great body of the students will have cause on their part, to complain of that exclusiveness which they have exercised as their prerogative for more than two centuries.

The four short years of Story's undergraduate existence were passed free, alike from this species of social pleasure and social anxiety. He was naturally fond of company, and had a healthy, youthful taste for conviviality; but he shrank instinctively from excesses, and was, fortunately, also ambitious to win a high rank for scholarship. His companions were of his own age, and those divinities who people the inner chambers of a young man's fancy at the age of nineteen, were not upon the spot to distract overmuch his attention from his studies. He left his home within the College walls before he had arrived at manhood, and returned again some thirty years after in the maturity of his powers, to repay to his foster mother the debt which he owed for his education, by imparting to her younger children the results of his experience. Cambridge is to be considered as his home; it was there that he won his greatest fame, it was there that he fondly turned to refresh himself after his labors on the full bench and the circuit; this was the home of his affections and his interests, and there his earnest and active life was brought to its calm and peaceful close.

In Brattle-street, a little distance on the road from the Colleges to Mount Auburn, there stands a narrow brick house, with its gable end to the street, facing the east, and a long piazza on its southern side. It is situated just at the head of Appian Way – not the Queen of Ways, leading from Rome to Brundusium, over which Horace journeyed in company with Virgil, and Paul's brethren came to meet him as far as Appii Forum and The Three Taverns, but a short lane, boasting not many more yards than its namesake miles; leading from Cambridge Common to Brattle-street, journeyed over by hurrying students with Horace and Virgil under their arms, without a single tavern in it, and hardly long enough to accommodate three. The external appearance of the house would hardly attract or reward the attention of the passer by. It stands by itself, looking as much too high for its width as an ordinary city residence in New-York, that has sprung up in advance of the rest of its block. The street in which it stands is flat and shady, but wonderfully dusty nevertheless, for Cambridge is a town

"Where dust and mud the equal year divide."

The old inhabitants may be supposed to be reconciled to that dust, of which they are made, and to which they naturally expect in a few years to return. Thus Lowell finds it in his heart to sing the praises of Cambridge soil,

"Dear native town! whose choking elms each year
With eddying dust before their time turn gray,
Pining for rain, – to me thy dust is dear;
It glorifies the eve of Summer day."

But, however native Cantabs may feel, the temporary resident hails the friendly watering-cart, which appears at intervals in the streets, since the old town has changed itself into a city.

A flower-garden on the south side, separates Judge Story's house from the village blacksmith, who has had the rare happiness of being celebrated in the verses of his two fellow-townsmen, the poets Longfellow and Lowell;

"Under a spreading chestnut tree,
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands,
And the muscles of his brawny arm
Are strong as iron bands.

"His hair is crisp, and black, and long,