he is good; his whole time seems spent in distributing good to all around
him; and where-ever he goes he makes every heart rejoice. He is very
active and is all the time on the alert in viewing everything that is
worth seeing. The Emperor is also extremely partial to the United States;
everything American pleases him, and he seems uncommonly interested in
the welfare of our country.

"I was introduced to-day to Mr. Harris, our _chargé d'affaires_ to the
court of Russia. He is a very intelligent, fine man, and is a great
favorite with Alexander. From a conversation with him I have a scheme in
view which, when I have matured, I will submit to you for your
approbation.

"The King of Prussia I have seen but once, and then had but an imperfect
view of him. He came to the window with the Prince Regent and bowed to
the people (at St. James's Palace). He is tall and thin, has an agreeable
countenance, but rather dejected in consequence of the late loss of his
queen, to whom he was very much attached.

"General Blücher, now Prince Blücher, I have seen five or six times. I
saw him on his entrance into London, all covered with dust, and in a very
ordinary kind of vehicle. On the day after I saw him several times in his
carriage, drawn about wherever he wished by the _mob_. He is John's
greatest favorite, and they have almost pulled the brave general and his
companion, Count Platoff, to pieces out of pure affection. Platoff had
his coat actually torn off him and divided into a thousand pieces as
_relics_ by the good people--their kindness knows no bounds, and, I
think, in all the battles which they have fought, they never have run so
much risk of losing their limbs as in encountering their friends in
England.

"Blücher is a veteran-looking soldier, a very fine head, monstrous
mustaches. His head is bald, like papa's, his hair gray, and he wears
powder. Understanding that he was to be at Covent Garden Theatre, I went,
as the best place to see him, and I was not disappointed. He was in the
Prince's box, and I had a good view of him during the whole
entertainment, being directly before him for three or four hours. A few
nights since I also went to the theatre to see Platoff, the _hetman_
(chief) of the Cossacks. He has also a very fine countenance, a high and
broad forehead, dark complexion, and dark hair. He is tall and well-made,
as I think the Cossacks are generally. He was very much applauded by a
crowded house, the most part collected to see him."

The following letter is from Washington Allston written in Bristol, on
July 5, 1814:--

MY DEAR SIR,--I received your last on Saturday and should have answered
your first letter but for two reasons.

First, that I had nothing to say; which, I think, metaphysicians allow to
be the most natural as well as the most powerful cause of silence.

Second, that, if I had had anything to say, the daily expectation which I
entertained of seeing you allowed no confidence in the hope that you
would hear what I had to say should I have said it.

I thank you for your solicitude, and can assure you that both Mrs.
Allston and myself are in every respect better than when we left London.
Mr. King received me, as I wished, with undiminished kindness, and was
greatly pleased with the pictures. He has not, however, seen the large
one, which, to my agreeable surprise, I have been solicited from various
quarters to exhibit, and that, too, without my having given the least
intimation of such a design. I have taken Merchant Tailors' Hall (a very
large room) for this purpose, and shall probably open it in the course of
next week.

Perhaps you will be surprised to hear that I have been retouching it. I
have just concluded a fortnight's hard work upon it, and have the
satisfaction to add that I have been seldom better satisfied than with my
present labor. I have repainted the greater part of the draperies--
indeed, those of all the principal figures, excepting the Dead Man--with
powerful and positive colors, and added double strength to the shadows of
every figure, so that for force and distinctness you would hardly know it
for the same picture. The "Morning Chronicle" would have no reason now to
complain of its "wan red."...

I am sorry that Parliament has been so impolite to you in procrastinating
the fireworks. But they are an unpolished set and will still be in the
dark age of incivility notwithstanding their late illuminations. However
I am in great hopes that the good people of England will derive no small
degree of moral embellishment from their pure admiration of the
illustrious General B----, who, it is said, for drinking and gaming has
no equal.

BRISTOL, September 9, 1814.

MY DEAR PARENTS,--Your kind letters of June last I have received, and
return you a thousand thanks for them. They have relieved me from a
painful state of anxiety with respect to my future prospects. I cannot
feel too thankful for such kind parents who have universally shown so
much indulgence to me. Accept my gratitude and love; they are all I can
give.

You allow me to stay in Europe another year. Your letters are not in
answer to some I have subsequently sent requesting leave to reside in
Paris. Mr. Allston, as well as all my friends, think it by all means
necessary I should lose no time in getting to France to improve myself
for a year in drawing (a branch of art in which I am very deficient).

I shall therefore set out for Paris in about two weeks, unless your
letters in answer to those sent by Drs. Heyward and Gushing should arrive
and say otherwise. Since coming to Bristol I have not found my prospects
so good as I before had reason to expect (owing in a great degree to
political irritation). I have, however, contrived to make sufficient to
pay off _all_ my _debts_, which have given me some considerable
uneasiness.

I can live much more reasonably in Paris (indeed, some say for half what
I can in London); I can improve myself more; and, therefore, all things
taken into consideration, I believe it would be agreeable to my parents.
As to the political state of Paris, there is nothing to fear from that.
It appears perfectly tranquil, and should at any time any difficulties
arise, it is but three days' journey back to England again. Besides this,
I hope my parents will not feel any solicitude for me lest I should fall
into any bad way, when they consider that I am now between twenty-three
and twenty-four years of age, and that this is an age when the habits are
generally fixed.

As for expense, I must also request your confidence. Feeling as I do the
great obligations I am under to my parents, they must think me destitute
of gratitude if they thought me capable, after all that has been said to
me, of being prodigal. The past I trust you will find to be an example
for the future.

In a letter from a friend, M. Van Schaick, written from Dartmouth,
October 13, 1814, after speaking in detail of the fortifications of New
York Harbor, which he considers "impregnable," we find the following
interesting information:--

"But what satisfies my mind more than anything else is that all the
heights of Brooklyn on Long Island are occupied by strong chains of
forts; the Captain calls it an iron-work; and that the steamboat frigate,
carrying forty-four 32-pounders, must by this time be finished. Her sides
are eight feet thick of solid timber. No ball can penetrate her.... The
steamboat frigate is 160 feet long, 40 wide, carries her wheels in the
centre like the ferry-boats, and will move six miles an hour against a
common wind and tide. She is the wonder and admiration of all beholders."

From this same gentleman is the following letter, dated October 21,
1814:--

MY DEAR FRIEND,--My heart is so full that I do not know how to utter its
emotions. Thanks, all thanks to Heaven and our glorious heroes! My
satisfaction is full; it is perfect. It partakes of the character of the
victory and wants nothing to make it complete.

I return your felicitations upon this happy and heart-cheering occasion,
and hope it may serve to suppress every sigh and to enliven every hope
that animates the bosoms of my friends at Bristol. Give Mr. Allston a
hearty squeeze of the hand for me in token of my gratification at this
event and my remembrance of him.

I enter into your feelings; I enjoy your triumph as much as if I was with
you. May it do you good and lengthen your lives. Really I think it is
much more worth my regard to live now than ever it was before. This gives
a tone to one's nerves, a zest to one's appetite, and a reality to
existence that pervades all nature and exhibits its effects in every word
and action.

Among the heroes whose names shall be inscribed upon the broad base of
American Independence and Glory, the names of the heroes of Lake Erie and
Lake Champlain will be recognized as brilliant and every way worthy; and
it will hereafter be said that the example and exertions of New York have
saved the nation.... What becomes of Massachusetts now and its sage
politicians? Oh! shut the picture; I cannot bear the contrast. Like a
dead carcass she hangs upon the living spirit which animates the heart,
and she impedes its motions. Her consequence is gone, and I am sorry for
it, because I have been accustomed to admire the noble spirit she once
displayed, and the virtues which adorned her brighter days....

We sail on Sunday or Monday. I have received the box. Everything is
right. Heaven bless you.

Going back a few days in point of time, the following letter was written
to his parents:--

BRISTOL, October 11, 1814.

Your letters to the 31st of August have been received, and I have again
to express to you my thanks for the sacrifices you are making for me. One
day I hope it will be in my power to repay you for the many acts of
indulgence to me....

Your last letters mention nothing about my going to France. I perceive
you have got my letters requesting leave, but you are altogether silent
on the subject. Everything is in favor of my going, my improvement, my
expenses, and, last though not least, _the state of my feelings_. I shall
be ruined in my feelings if I stay longer in England. I cannot endure the
continued and daily insults to my feelings as an American. But on this
head I promised not to write anything more; still allow me to say but a
few words--On second thoughts, however, I will refer you entirely to Dr.
Romeyn. If it is possible, as you value my comfort, see him as speedily
as possible. He will give you my sentiments exactly, and I fully trust
that, after you have heard him converse for a short time, you will
completely liberate me from the imputation of error....

Mr. Bromfield [the merchant through whom he received his allowance]
thinks I had better wait until I receive positive leave from you to go to
France. Do write me soon and do give me leave. I long to bury myself in
the Louvre in a country at least not hostile to mine, and where guns are
not firing and bells ringing for victory over my countrymen.... Where is
American patriotism,--how long shall England, already too proud, glory in
the blood of my countrymen? Oh! for the genius of Washington! Had I but
his talents with what alacrity would I return to the relief of that
country which (without affectation, my dear parents) is dearer to me than
my life. Willingly (I speak with truth and deliberation), willingly would
I sacrifice my life for her honor.

Do not think ill of me for speaking thus strongly. You cannot judge
impartially of my feelings until you are placed in my situation. Do not
say I suffer myself to be carried away by my feelings; your feelings
could never have been tried as mine have; you cannot see with the eyes I
do; you cannot have the means of ascertaining facts on this side of the
water that I have. But I will leave this subject and only say see _Dr.
Romeyn_....

I find no encouragement whatever in Bristol in the way of my art.
National feeling is mingled with everything here; it is sufficient that I
am an American, a title I would not change with the greatest king in
Europe.

I find it more reasonable, living in Bristol, or I should go to London
immediately. Mr. and Mrs. Allston are well and send you their respects.
They set out for London in a few days after some months' _unsuccessful_
(between ourselves) residence here. All public feeling is absorbed in one
object, the _conquest of the United States;_ no time to encourage an
artist, especially an American artist.

I am well, extremely well, but not in good spirits, as you may imagine
from this letter. I am painting a little landscape and am studying in my
mind a great historical picture, to be painted, by your leave, in Paris.

CHAPTER VIII

NOVEMBER 9, 1814--APRIL 23. 1815

Does not go to Paris.--Letter of admonition from his mother.--His
parents' early economies.--Letter from Leslie.--Letter from Rev. S.F.
Jarvis on politics.--The mother tells of the economies of another young
American, Dr. Parkman.--The son resents constant exhortations to
economize, and tells of meanness of Dr. Parkman.--Writes of his own
economies and industry.--Disgusted with Bristol.--Prophesies peace
between England and America.--Estimates of Morse's character by Dr.
Romeyn and Mr. Van Schaick.--The father regrets reproof of son for
political views.--Death of Mrs. Allston.--Disagreeable experience in
Bristol.--More economies.--Napoleon I.--Peace.

Morse did not go to Paris at this time. The permission from his parents
was so long delayed, owing to their not having received certain letters
of his, and his mentor, Mr. Bromfield, advising against it, he gave up
the plan, with what philosophy he could bring to bear on the situation.

His mother continued to give him careful advice, covering many pages, in
every letter. On November 9, 1814, she says:--

"We wish to know what the plan was that you said you were maturing in
regard to the Emperor of Russia. You must not be a schemer, but determine
on a steady, uniform course. It is an old adage that 'a rolling stone
never gathers any moss'; so a person that is driving about from pillar to
post very seldom lays up anything against a rainy day. You must be wise,
my son, and endeavor to get into such steady business as will, with the
divine blessing, give you a support. Secure that first, and then you will
be authorized to indulge your taste and exercise your genius in other
ways that may not be immediately connected with a living.

"You mention patronage from this country, but such a thing is not known
here unless you were on the spot, and not then, indeed, but for value
received. You must therefore make up your mind to labor for yourself
without leaning on any one, and look up to God for his blessing upon your
endeavors. This is the way your parents set out in life about twenty-five
years ago. They had nothing to look to for a support but their salary,
which was a house, twenty cords of wood, and $570 a year. The reception
and circulation of the Geography was an experiment not then made. With
the blessing of Heaven on these resources we have maintained an expensive
family, kept open doors for almost all who chose to come and partake of
our hospitality. Enemies, as well as friends, have been welcomed. We have
given you and your brothers a liberal education, have allowed you $4000,
are allowing your brothers about $300 a year apiece, and are supporting
our remaining family at the rate of $2000 a year. This is a pretty
correct statement, and I make it to show you what can be done by industry
and economy, with the blessing of Heaven."

While Morse was in Bristol, his friend C. R. Leslie thus writes to him in
lead pencil from London, on November 29, 1814:--

MOST POTENT, GRAVE AND REVEREND DOCTOR,--I take up my pencil to make ten
thousand apologies for addressing you in humble black lead. Deeply
impressed as I am with the full conviction that you deserve the very best
Japan ink, the only excuse I can make to you is the following. It is,
perhaps, needless to remind you that the tools with which ink is applied
to paper, in order to produce writing, are made from goose quills, which
quills I am goose enough not to keep a supply of; and not having so much
money at present in my breeches pocket as will purchase one, I am forced
to betake myself to my pencil; an instrument which, without paying myself
any compliment, I am sure I can wield better than a pen.

I am glad to hear that you are so industrious, and that Mr. Allston is
succeeding so well with portraits. I hope he will bring all he has
painted to London. I am looking out for you every day. I think we form a
kind of family here, and I feel in an absence from Mr. and Mrs. Allston
and yourself as I used to do when away from my mother and sisters.

By the bye, I have not had any letters from home for more than a month.
It seems the Americans are all united and we shall now have war in
earnest. I am glad of it for many reasons; I think it will not only get
us a more speedy and permanent peace, but may tend to crush the demon of
party spirit and strengthen our government.

I am done painting the gallery, and have finished my drawings for the
frieze. Thank you for your good wishes.

I thought Mr. Allston knew how proud I am of being considered his
student. Tell him, if he thinks it worth while to mention me at all in
his letter to Delaplaine, I shall consider it a great honor to be called
his student.

The father, in a letter of December 6, 1814, after again urging him to
leave politics alone, adds this postscript:

"P.S. If you can make up your mind to remain in London and finish your
great picture for the exhibition; to suppress your political feelings,
and resolutely turn a deaf ear to everything which does not concern your
professional studies; not to talk on politics and preserve a conciliating
course of conduct and conversation; make as many friends as you can, and
behave as a good man ought to in your situation, and put off going to
France till after your exhibition,--this plan would suit us best. But
with the observations and advice now before you, we leave you to judge
for yourself. Let us early know your determination and intended plans.
You must rely on your own resources after this year."

The following letter is from his warm friend, the Reverend Samuel F.
Jarvis, written in New York, December 14, 1814:--

"I am not surprised at the feelings you express with regard to England or
America. The English in general have so contemptuous an opinion of us and
one so exalted of themselves, that every American must feel a virtuous
indignation when he hears his country traduced and belied. But, my dear
sir, it is natural, on the other hand, for an exile from his native land
to turn with fond remembrance to its excellences and forget its defects.
You will be able some years hence to speak with more impartiality on this
subject than you do at present.

"The men who have involved the country in this war are wicked and
corrupt. A systematic exclusion of all Federalists from any office of
trust is the leading feature of this Administration, yet the Federalists
comprehend the majority of the wealth, virtue, and intelligence of the
community. It is the power of the ignorant multitude by which they are
supported, and I conceive that America will never be a respectable nation
in the eyes of the world, till the extreme democracy of our Constitution
is done away with, and there is a representation of the property rather
than of the population of the country. You feel nothing of the
oppressive, despotic sway of the _soi-disant_ Republicans, but we feel it
in all its bitterness, and know that it is far worse than that of the
most despotic sovereigns in Europe. With such men there can be no union.

"The repulsion of British invasion is the duty, and will be the pride, of
every American; but, while prepared to bare his arm in defence of his
much-wronged country against a proud and arrogant, and, in some
instances, a cruel, foe, he cannot be blind to the unprincipled conduct
of her internal enemies, and such he must conceive the present ruling
party to be."

On December 19, 1814, his mother writes:--

"I was not a little astonished to hear you say, in one of your letters
from Bristol, that you had earned money enough there to pay off your
debts. I cannot help asking what debts you could have to discharge with
your own earnings after receiving one thousand dollars a year from us,
which we are very sure must have afforded you, even by your own account
of your expenses, ample means for the payment of all just, fair, and
honorable debts, and I hope you contract no others. We are informed by
others that they made six hundred dollars a year not only pay all their
expenses of clothing, board, travelling, learning the French language,
etc., etc., but they were able out of it to purchase books to send home,
and actually sent a large trunk full of elegant books. Now the person who
told us that he did this has a father who is said to be worth a hundred
and fifty thousand dollars; therefore the young man was not pinched for
means, but was thus economical out of consideration to his parents, and
to show his gratitude to them, as I suppose. Now think, my dear son, how
much more your poor parents are doing for you, how good your dear
brothers are to be satisfied with so little done for them in comparison
with what we are doing for you, and let the thought stimulate you to more
economy and industry. I greatly fear you have been falling off in both
these since the éclat you received for your first performances. It has
always been a failing of yours, as soon as you found you could excel in
what you undertook, to be tired of it and not trouble yourself any
further about it. I was in hopes that you had got over this fickleness
ere this...

"You must not expect to paint anything in this country, for which you
will receive any money to support you, but portraits; therefore do
everything in your power to qualify you for painting and taking them in
the best style. That is all your hope here, and to be very obliging and
condescending to those who are disposed to employ you....

"I think young Leslie is a very estimable young man to be, as I am told
he is, supporting himself and assisting his widowed mother by his
industry."

I shall anticipate a little in order to give at once the son's answer to
this reproof. He writes on April 28, 1815:--

"I wish I could persuade my parents that they might place some little
confidence in my judgment at the age I now am (nearly twenty-four), an
age when, in ordinary people, the judgment has reached a certain degree
of maturity. It is a singular and, I think, an unfortunate fact that I
have not, that I recollect, since I have been in England, had a turn of
low spirits except when I have received letters from home. It is true I
find a great deal of affectionate solicitude in them, but with it I also
find so much complaint and distrust, so much fear that I am doing wrong,
so much doubt as to my morals and principles, and fear lest I should be
led away by bad company and the like, that, after I have read them, I am
miserable for a week. I feel as though I had been guilty of every crime,
and I have passed many sleepless nights after receiving letters from you.
I shall not sleep to-night in consequence of passages in your letters
just received."

Here he quotes from his mother's letter and answers:

"Now as to the young man's living for six hundred dollars, I know who it
is of whom you speak. It is Dr. Parkman, who made it his boast that he
would live for that sum, but you did not enquire _how_ he lived. I can
tell you. He never refused an invitation to dine, breakfast, or tea,
which he used to obtain often by pushing himself into everybody's
company. When he did not succeed in getting invitations, he invited
himself to breakfast, dine, or sup with some of his friends. He has often
walked up to breakfast with us, a distance of three or four miles. If he
failed in getting a dinner or meal at any of these places, he either used
to go without, or a bit of bread answered the purpose till next meal. In
his dress he was so shabby and uncouth that any decent person would be
ashamed to walk with him in the street. Above all, his notorious meanness
in his money matters, his stickling with his poor washerwoman for a
halfpenny and with others for a farthing, and his uniform stinginess on
all occasions rendered him notoriously disgusting to all his
acquaintances, and affords, I should imagine, but a poor example for
imitation....

"The fact is I could live for _fifty_ pounds a year if my only object was
to live cheap, and, on the other hand, if I was allowed one thousand
pounds a year, I could spend it all without the least extravagance in
obtaining greater advantages in my art. But as your goodness has allowed
me but two hundred pounds (and I wish you again to receive my sincere
thanks for this allowance), should not my sole endeavor be to spend all
this to the utmost advantage; to keep as closely within the bounds of
that allowance as possible, and would not _economy_ in this instance
consist in rigidly keeping up to this rule? If this is a true statement
of the case, then have I been perfectly economical, for I have not yet
overrun my allowance, and I think I shall be able to return home without
having exceeded it a single shilling. If I have done this, and still
continue to do it, why, in every letter I receive from home, is the
injunction repeated of _being economical?_ It makes me exceedingly
unhappy, especially when I am conscious of having used my utmost
endeavors, ever since I have been in England, to be rigidly so.

"As to _industry_, in which mama fears I am falling off, I gave you an
account in my last letter (by Mr. Ralston) of the method I use in
parcelling out my time. Since writing that letter the spring and summer
are approaching fast, and the days increasing. Of course I can employ
more of the time than in the winter. Mr. Leslie and myself rise at five
o'clock in the morning and walk about a mile and a half to Burlington,
where are the famous Elgin Marbles, the works of Phidias and Praxiteles,
brought by Lord Elgin from Athens. From these we draw three hours every
morning, wet or dry, before breakfast, and return home just as the bustle
begins in London, for they are late risers in London. When we go out of a
morning we meet no one but the watchman, who goes his rounds for an hour
and a half after we are up. Last summer Mr. Leslie and I used to paint in
the open air in the fields three hours before breakfast, and often before
sunrise, to study the morning effect on the landscape.

"Now, being conscious of employing my time in the most industrious manner
possible, you can but faintly conceive the mortification and sorrow with
which I read that part of mama's letter. I was so much hurt that I read
it to Mr. Allston, and requested he would write to you and give you an
account of my spending my time. He seemed very much astonished when I
read it to him, and _authorized me to tell you from him that it was
impossible for any one to be more indefatigable in his studies than I
am_.

"Mama mentions in her letter that she hears that Mr. Leslie supports his
mother and sisters by his labors. This is not the case. Leslie was
supported by three or four individuals in Philadelphia till within a few
months past. About a year ago he sold a large picture which he painted
(whilst I was on my fruitless trip to Bristol for money) for a hundred
guineas. Since that he has had a number of commissions in portraits and
is barely able to support himself; indeed, he tells me this evening that
he has but £20 left. He is a very economical and a most excellent young
man. His expenses in a year are, on an average, from £230 to £250; Mr.
Allston's (single) expenses not less than £300 per annum, and I know of
no artist among all my acquaintance whose expenses in a year are less
than £200."

Returning now to the former chronological order, I shall include the
following vehement letter written from London on December 22, 1814:--

MY DEAR PARENTS,--I arrived yesterday from Bristol, where I have been for
several months past endeavoring to make a little in the way of my
profession, but have completely failed, owing to several causes.

First, the total want of anything like partiality for the fine arts in
that place; the people there are but a remove from brutes. A "Bristol
hog" is as proverbial in this country as a "Charlestown gentleman" is in
Boston. Their whole minds are absorbed in trade; barter and gain and
interest are all they understand. If I could have painted a picture for
half a guinea by which they could have made twenty whilst I starved, _I
could have starved_.

Secondly, the virulence of national prejudice which rages now with
tenfold acrimony. They no longer despise, they hate, the Americans. The
battle on Champlain and before Flattsburgh has decided the business; the
moans and bewailings for this business are really, to an American, quite
comforting after their arrogant boasting of reducing us to unconditional
submission.

Is it strange that I should feel a little the effects of this universal
hatred? I have felt it, and I have left Bristol after six months' perfect
neglect. After having been invited there with promises of success, I have
had the mortification to leave it without having, from Bristol, a single
commission. More than that, and by far the worst, if I have not gone back
in my art these six months, I have at least stood still, and to me this
is the most trying reflection of all. I have been immured in the
paralyzing atmosphere of trade till my mind was near partaking the
infection. I have been listening to the grovelling, avaricious devotees
of mammon, whose souls are narrowed to the studious contemplation of a
hard-earned shilling, whose leaden imaginations never soared above the
prospect of a good bargain, and whose _summum bonum_ is the inspiring
idea of counting a hundred thousand: I say I have been listening to these
miserly beings till the idea did not seem so repugnant of lowering my
noble art to a trade, of painting for money, of degrading myself and the
soul-enlarging art which I possess, to the narrow idea of merely getting
money.

Fie on myself! I am ashamed of myself; no, never will I degrade myself by
making a trade of a profession. If I cannot live a gentleman, I will
starve a gentleman. But I will dismiss this unpleasant subject, the
particulars of which I can better relate to you than write. Suffice it to
say that my ill-treatment does not prey upon my spirits; I am in
excellent health and spirits and have great reason to be thankful to
Heaven for thousands of blessings which one or two reverses shall not
make me forget. Reverses do I call them? How trifling are my troubles to
the millions of my fellow creatures who are afflicted with all the
dreadful calamities incident to this life. Reverses do I call them? No,
they are blessings compared with the miseries of thousands.

Indeed, I am too ungrateful. If a thing does not result just as I wish, I
begin to repine; I forget the load of blessings which I enjoy: life,
health, parents whose kindness exceeds the kindest; brothers, relatives,
and friends; advantages which no one else enjoys for the pursuit of a
favorite art, besides numerous others; all which are forgotten the moment
an unpleasant disappointment occurs. I am very ungrateful.

With respect to peace, I can only say I should not be surprised if the
preliminaries were signed before January. My reasons are that Great
Britain cannot carry on the war any longer. She may talk of her
inexhaustible resources, but she well knows that the great resource, the
property tax, must fail next April. The people will not submit any
longer; they are taking strong measures to prevent its continuance, and
without it they cannot continue the war.

Another great reason why I think there will be peace is the absolute
_fear_ which they express of us. They fear the increase of our navy; they
fear the increase of the army; they fear for Canada, and they are in
dread of the further disgrace of their national character. Mr. Monroe's
plan for raising 100,000 men went like a shock through the country. They
saw the United States assume an attitude which they did not expect, and
the same men who cried for "war, war," "thrash the Americans," now cry
most lustily for peace.

The union of the parties also has convinced them that we are determined
to resist their most arrogant pretensions.

Love to all, brothers, Miss Russell, etc. Yours very affectionately,
SAML. F. B. MORSE.

He ends the letter thus abruptly, probably realizing that he was
beginning to tread on forbidden ground, but being unable to resist the
temptation.

While from this letter and others we can form a just estimate of the
character and temperament of the man, it is also well to learn the
opinion of his contemporaries; I shall, therefore, quote from a letter to
the elder Morse of the Dr. Romeyn, whom the son was so anxious to have
his father see, also from a letter of Mr. Van Schaick to Dr. Romeyn.

The former was written in New York, on December 27, 1814.

"The enclosed letter of my friend Mr. Van Schaick will give you the
information concerning your son which you desire. He has been intimately
acquainted with your son for a considerable time. You may rely on his
account, as he is not only a gentleman of unquestionable integrity, but
also a professor of the Lord Christ. What I saw and heard of your son
pleased me, and I cannot but hope he will repay all your anxieties and
realize your reasonable expectations by his conduct and the standing
which he must and will acquire in society by that conduct."

Mr. Van Schaick's letter was written also in New York, on December 14,
1814:--

"To those passages of Dr. Morse's letter respecting his son, to which you
have directed my attention, I hasten to reply without any form, because
it will gratify me to relieve the anxiety of the parents of my friend.
His religious and moral character is unexceptionally good. He feels
strongly for his country and expresses those feelings among his American
friends with great sensibility. I do not know that he ever indulges in
any observations in the company of Englishmen which are calculated to
injure his standing among them. But, my dear sir, you fully know that an
American cannot escape the sting of illiberal and false charges against
his country and even its moral character, unless he almost entirely
withholds himself from society. It cannot be expected that any human
being should be so unfeeling as to suffer indignity in total silence.

"But I do not think that any political collisions, which may incidentally
and very infrequently arise, can injure him as an artist; for it is well
known to you that the simple fact of his being an American is sufficient
to prevent his rising rapidly into notice, since the possession of that
character clogs the efforts, or, at least, somewhat clouds the fame of
men of superior genius and established talent.... I advised Samuel to go
to France and bury himself for six months in the Louvre; from thence to
Italy, the seat of the arts. He inclined to the first part of the plan,
and then to return home, but deferred putting it into execution till he
heard from his father. Mr. Allston intended to winter in London. Morse
has a fine taste and colors well. His drawing is capable of much
improvement, but he is anxious to place himself at the head of his
profession, and, with a little judicious encouragement, will probably
succeed. That patient industry which has in all ages characterized the
masters of the art, he will find it to his interest to apply to his
studies the farther he advances in them. His success has been moderately
good. If he could sell the pictures he has on hand, the avails would
probably pay his way into France."

Referring to these letters the father, writing on January 25, 1815,
says:--

"We have had letters from Dr. Romeyn and Mr. Van Schaick concerning you
which have comforted us much. Since receiving them we don't know but we
have expressed ourselves, in our letters in answer to your last, a little
stronger than we ought in regard to your _political_ feelings and
conduct. I find others who have returned feel pretty much as you do. But
it should be remembered that your situation as an artist is different
from theirs. It is your wisdom to leave politics to politicians and be
solely the artist. But if you are in France these cautions will probably
not be necessary, as you will have no temptation to enter into any
political discussions."

On the 3d of February, 1815, Morse, in writing to his parents, has a very
sad piece of news to communicate to them:--

"I write in great haste and much agitation. Mrs. Allston, the wife of our
beloved friend, died last evening, and the event overwhelmed us all in
the utmost sorrow. As for Mr. Allston, for several hours after the death
of his wife he was almost bereft of reason. Mr. Leslie and I are applying
our whole attention to him, and we have so far succeeded as to see him
more composed."

This was a terrible grief to all the little coterie of friends, for whom
the Allston house had been a home. One of them, Mr. J.J. Morgan, in a
long letter to Morse written from Wiltshire, thus expresses himself:--

"Gracious God! unsearchable, indeed, are thy ways! The insensible, the
brutish, the wicked are powerful and everywhere, in everything
successful; while Allston, who is everything that is amiable, kind, and
good, has been bruised, blow after blow, and now, indeed, his cup is
full. I am too unwell, too little recovered from the effect of your
letter, to write much. Coleridge intends writing to-day; I hope he will.
Allston may derive some little relief from knowing how much his friends
partake of his grief."

This was a time of great discouragement to the young artist. Through the
failure of some of his letters to reach his parents in time, he had not
received their permission to go to France until it was too late for him
to go. The death of Mrs. Allston cast a gloom over all the little circle,
and, to cap the climax, he was receiving no encouragement in his
profession. On March 10, 1815, he writes:--

"My jaunt to Bristol in quest of money completely failed. When I was
first there I expected, from the little connection I got into, I should
be able to support myself. I was obliged to come to town on account of
the exhibitions, and stayed longer than I expected, intending to return
to Bristol. During this time I received two pressing letters from. Mr.
Visscher (which I will show you), inviting me to come down, saying that I
should have plenty of business. I accordingly hurried off. A gentleman,
for whom I had before painted two portraits, had promised, if I would let
him have them for ten guineas apiece, twelve being my price, that he
would procure me five sitters. This I acceded to. I received twenty
guineas and have heard nothing from the man since, though I particularly
requested Mr. Visscher to enquire and remind him of his promise. Yet he
never did anything more on the subject. I was there three months, gaining
nothing in my art and without a single commission. Mr. Breed, of
Liverpool, then came to Bristol. He took two landscapes which I had been
amusing myself with (for I can say nothing more of them) at ten guineas
each. I painted two more landscapes which are unsold.

"Mr. Visscher, a man worth about a hundred thousand pounds, and whose
annual expenses, with a large family of seven children, are not one
thousand, had a little frame for which he repeatedly desired me to paint
a picture. I told him I would as soon as I had finished one of my
landscapes. I began it immediately, without his knowing it, and
determined to surprise him with it. I also had two frames which fitted
Mr. Breed's pictures, and which I was going to give to Mr. Breed with his
pictures. But Mr. Visscher was particularly pleased with the frames, as
they were a pair, and told me not to send them to Mr. Breed as he should
like to have them himself, and wished I would paint him pictures to fit
them (the two other landscapes before mentioned). I accordingly was
employed three months longer in painting these three pictures. I finished
them; he was very much pleased with them; all his family were very much
pleased with them; all who saw them were pleased with them. But he
_declined taking them_ without even asking my price, and said that he had
more pictures than he knew what to do with.

"Mr. and Mrs. Allston heard him say twenty times he wished I would paint
him a picture for the frame. Mr. Allston, who knew what I was about, told
him, no doubt, I would do it for him, and in a week after I had completed
it. I had told Mr. Visscher also that I was considerably in debt, and
that, when he had paid me for these pictures, I should be something in
pocket; and, by his not objecting to what I said, I took it for granted
(and from his requesting me to paint the picture) that the thing was
certain. But thus it was, without giving any reason in the world, except
that he had pictures enough, he declined taking them, making me spend
three months longer in Bristol than I otherwise should have done;
standing still in my art, if not actually going back; and forcing me to
run in debt for some necessary expenses of clothing in Bristol, and my
passage from and back to London. During all this time not a single
commission for a portrait, _many_ of which were promised me, nor a single
call from any one to look at my pictures. Thus ended my jaunt in quest of
money.

"Do not think that this disappointment is in consequence of any
misconduct of mine. Mr. Allston, who was with me, experienced the same
treatment, and had it not been for his uncle, the American Consul, he
might have starved for the Bristol people. His uncle was the only one who
purchased any of his pictures. Since I have been in London I have been
endeavoring to regain what I lost in Bristol, and I hope I have so far
succeeded as to say: '_I have not gone back in my art_.'

"In order to retrench my expenses I have taken a painting-room out of the
house, at about half of the expense of my former room. Though
inconvenient in many respects, yet my circumstances require it and I
willingly put up with it. As for _economy_, do not be at any more pains
in introducing that personage to me. We have long been friends and
necessary companions. If you could look in on me and see me through a day
I think you would not tell me in every letter to _economize more_. It is
impossible; I cannot economize more. I live on as plain food and as
little as is for my health; less and plainer would make me ill, for I
have given it a fair experiment. As for clothes, I have been decent and
that is all. If I visited a great deal this would be a heavy expense,
but, the less I go out, the less need I care for clothes, except for
cleanliness. My only heavy expenses are colors, canvas, frames, etc., and
these are heavy."

A number of pages of this letter are missing, much to my regret. He must
have been telling of some of the great events which were happening on the
Continent, probably of the Return from Elba, for it begins again
abruptly.

"--when he might have avoided it by quietness; by undertaking so bold an
attempt as he has done without being completely sure of success, and
having laid his plans deeply; and, thirdly, I knew the feelings of the
French people were decidedly in his favor, more especially the military.
They feel as though Louis XVIII was forced upon them by their conquerors;
they feel themselves a conquered nation, and they look to Bonaparte as
the only man who can retrieve their character for them.

"All these reasons rushing into my mind at the time, I gave it as my
opinion that Napoleon would again be Emperor of the French, and again set
the world by the ears, unless he may have learned a lesson from his
adversity. But this cannot be expected. I fear we are apt yet to see a
darker and more dreadful storm than any we have yet seen. This is,
indeed, an age of wonders.

"Let what will happen in Europe, let us have peace at home, among
ourselves more particularly. But the character we have acquired among the
nations of Europe in our late contest with England, has placed us on such
high ground that none of them, England least of all, will wish to embroil
themselves with us."

This was written just after peace had been established between England
and America, and in a letter from his mother, written about the same time
in March, 1815, she thus comments on the joyful news: "We have now the
heartfelt pleasure of congratulating you on the return of peace between
our country and Great Britain. May it never again be interrupted, but may
both countries study the things that make for peace, and love as
brethren."

It never has been interrupted up to the present day, for, as I am
pursuing my pleasant task of bringing these letters together for
publication, in the year of our Lord 1911, the newspapers are agitating
the question of a fitting commemoration of a hundred years of peace
between Great Britain and the United States.

Further on in this same letter the mother makes this request of her son:
"When you return we wish you to bring some excellent black or corbeau
cloth to make your good father and brothers each a suit of clothes. Your
papa also wishes you to get made a handsome black cloth cloak for him;
one that will fit you he thinks will fit him. Be sure and attend to this.
Your mama would like some grave colored silk for a gown, if it can be had
but for little. Don't forget that your mother is no dwarf, and that a
large pattern suits her better than a small one."

The letter of April 28, from which I have already quoted, has this
sentence at the beginning: "Your letters suppose me in Paris, _but I am
not there_; you hope that I went in October last; I intended going and
wished it at that time exceedingly, but I had not leave from you to go
and Mr. Bromfield advised me by no means to go until I heard from you.
You must perceive from this case how impossible it is for me to form
plans, and transmit them across the Atlantic for approbation, thus
letting an opportunity slip which is irrecoverable."

CHAPTER IX

MAY 3. 1815--OCTOBER 18, 1816

Decides to return home in the fall.--Hopes to return to Europe in a
year.--Ambitions.--Paints "Judgment of Jupiter."--Not allowed to compete
for premium.--Mr. Russell's portrait.--Reproof of his parents.--Battle of
Waterloo.--Wilberforce.--Painting of "Dying Hercules" received by
parents.--Much admired.--Sails for home.--Dreadful voyage lasting
fifty-eight days.--Extracts from his journal.--Home at last.

It was with great reluctance that Morse made his preparations to return
home. He thought that, could he but remain a year or two longer in an
atmosphere much more congenial to an artist than that which prevailed in
America at that time, he would surely attain to greater eminence in his
profession.

He, in common with many others, imagined that, with the return of peace,
an era of great prosperity would at once set in. But in this he was
mistaken, for history records that just the opposite occurred. The war
had made demands on manufacturers, farmers, and provision dealers which
were met by an increase in inventions and in production, and this meant
wealth and prosperity to many. When the war ceased, this demand suddenly
fell off; the soldiers returning to their country swelled the army of the
unemployed, and there resulted increased misery among the lower classes,
and a check to the prosperity of the middle and upper classes. It would
seem, therefore, that Fate dealt more kindly with the young man than he,
at that time, realized; for, had he remained, his discouragements would
undoubtedly have increased; whereas, by his return to his native land,
although meeting with many disappointments and suffering many hardships,
he was gradually turned into a path which ultimately led to fame and
fortune.

On May 3, 1815, he writes to his parents:--

"With respect to returning home, I shall make my arrangements to be with
you (should my life be spared) by the end of September next, or the
beginning of October; but it will be necessary that I should be in
England again (provided always Providence permits) by September
following, as arrangements which I have made will require my presence.
This I will fully explain when I meet you.

"The moment I get home I wish to begin work, so that I should like to
have some portraits bespoken in season. I shall charge forty dollars less
than Stuart for my portraits, so that, if any of my good friends are
ready, I will begin the moment I have said 'how do ye do' to them.

"I wish to do as much as possible in the year I am with you. If I could
get a commission or two for some large pictures for a church or public
hall, to the amount of two or three thousand dollars, I should feel much
gratified. I do not despair of such an event, for, through your influence
with the clergy and their influence with their people, I think some
commission for a scripture subject for a church might be obtained; a
crucifixion, for instance.

"It may, perhaps, be said that the country is not rich enough to purchase
large pictures; yes, but two or three thousand dollars can be paid for an
entertainment which is gone in a day, and whose effects are to demoralize
and debilitate, whilst the same sum expended on a fine picture would be
adding an ornament to the country which would be lasting. It would tend
to elevate and refine the public feeling by turning their thoughts from
sensuality and luxury to intellectual pleasures, and it would encourage
and support a class of citizens who have always been reckoned among the
brightest stars in the constellation of American worthies, and who are,
to this day, compelled to exile themselves from their country and all
that is dear to them, in order to obtain a bare subsistence.

"I do not speak of _portrait-painters;_ had I no higher thoughts than
being a first-rate portrait-painter, I would have chosen a far different
profession. My ambition is to be among those who shall revive the
splendor of the fifteenth century; to rival the genius of a Raphael, a
Michael Angelo, or a Titian; my ambition is to be enlisted in the
constellation of genius now rising in this country; I wish to shine, not
by a light borrowed from them, but to strive to shine the brightest.

"If I could return home and stay a year visiting my friends in various
parts of the Union, and, by painting portraits, make sufficient to bring
me to England again at the end of the year, whilst I obtained commissions
enough to employ me and support me while in England, I think, in the
course of a year or two, I shall have obtained sufficient credit to
enable me to return home, if not for the remainder of my life, at least
to pay a good long visit.

"In all these plans I wish you to understand me as always taking into
consideration _the will of Providence;_ and, in every plan for future
operation, I hope I am not forgetful of the uncertainty of human life,
and I wish always to say _should I live_ I will do this or that....

"I perceive by your late letters that you suppose I am painting a large
picture. I did think of it some time ago and was only deterred on account
of the expenses attending it. All this I will explain to your entire
satisfaction when I see you, and why I do not think it expedient to make
an exhibition when I return.

"I perceive also that you are a little too sanguine with respect to me
and expect a little too much from me. You must recollect I am yet but a
student and that a picture of any merit is not painted in a day.
Experienced as Mr. West is (and he also paints quicker than any other
artist), his last large picture cost him between three and four years'
constant attention. Mr. Allston was nearly two years in painting his
large picture. Young Haydon was three years painting his large picture,
is now painting another on which he has been at work one year and expects
to be two years more on it. Leslie was ten months painting his picture,
and my 'Hercules' cost me nearly a year's study. So you see that large
pictures are not the work of a moment.

"All these matters we will talk over one of these days, and all will be
set right. I had better paint Miss Russell's, Aunt Salisbury's, and Dr.
Bartlett's pictures at home for a very good reason I will give you."

He did, however, complete a large historical, or rather mythological,
painting before leaving England. Whether it was begun before or after
writing the foregoing letter, I do not know, but Mr. Dunlap (whom I have
already quoted) has this to say about it:--

"Encouraged by the flattering reception of his first works in painting
and in sculpture, the young artist redoubled his energies in his studies
and determined to contend for the highest premium in historical
composition offered by the Royal Academy at the beginning of the year
1814. The subject was 'The Judgment of Jupiter in the case of Apollo,
Marpessa and Idas.' The premium offered was a gold medal and fifty
guineas. The decision was to take place in December of 1815. The
composition containing four figures required much study, but, by the
exercise of great diligence, the picture was completed by the middle of
July.

"Our young painter had now been in England four years, one year longer
than the time allowed him by his parents, and he had to return
immediately home; but he had finished his picture under the conviction,
strengthened by the opinion of West, that it would be allowed to remain
and compete with those of the other candidates. To his regret the
petition to the council of the Royal Academy for this favor, handed in to
them by West and advocated strongly by him and Fuseli, was not granted.
He was told that it was necessary, according to the rules of the Academy,
that the artist should be present to receive the premium; it could not be
received by proxy. Fuseli expressed himself in very indignant terms at
the narrowness of this decision.

"Thus disappointed, the artist had but one mode of consolation. He
invited West to see his picture before he packed it up, at the same time
requesting Mr. West to inform him through Mr. Leslie, after the premium
should be adjudged in December, what chance he would have had if he had
remained. Mr. West, after sitting before the picture for a long time,
promised to comply with the request, but added: 'You had better remain,
sir.'"

In a letter quoted, without a date, by Mr. Prime, which was written from
Bristol, but which seems to have been lost, I find the following:--

"James Russell, Esq., has been extremely attentive to me. He has a very
fine family consisting of four daughters and, I think, a son who is
absent in the East Indies. The daughters are very beautiful,
accomplished, and amiable, especially the youngest, Lucy. I came very
near being at my old game of falling in love, but I find that love and
painting are quarrelsome companions, and that the house of my heart is
too small for both of them; so I have turned Mrs. Love out-of-doors. Time
enough, thought I (with true old bachelor complacency), time enough for
you these ten years to come. Mr. Russell's portrait I have painted as a
present to Miss Russell, and will send it to her as soon as I can get an
opportunity. It is an excellent likeness of him."

He must either have said more in this letter, or have written another
after the family verdict (that terrible family verdict) had been
pronounced, for in the letter of April 23, 1815, from which I have
already quoted, he refers to this portrait as follows:--

"As to the portrait which I painted of Mr. Russell, I am sorry you
mentioned it to Miss Russell, as I particularly requested that you would
not, because, in case of failure, it would be a disappointment to her;
but as you have told her, I must now explain. In the first place it is
not a picture that will do me any credit. I was unfortunate in the light
which I chose to paint him in; I wished to make it my best picture and so
made it my worst, for I worked too timidly on it. It is a likeness,
indeed, a very strong likeness, but the family are not pleased with it,
and they say that I have not flattered him, that I have made him too old.
So I determined I would not send it, indeed, I promised them I would not
send it; but, notwithstanding, as I know Miss Russell will be good enough
to comply with my conditions, I will send it directly; for, as it is a
good likeness, every one except the family knowing it instantly, and Mr.
Allston saying that it is a _very strong likeness_, it will on that
account be a gratification to her. But I _particularly_ and _expressly
request_ that it be kept in a private room to be shown _only_ to friends
and relations, and that I _may never be mentioned as the painter;_ and,
moreover, that no _artist_ or _miniature painter_ be allowed to see it.
On these conditions I send it, taking for granted they will be complied
with, and without waiting for an answer."

The parents of that generation were not frugal of counsel and advice,
even when their children had reached years of discretion and had flown
far away from the family nest.

The father, in a letter of May 20, 1815, thus gently reproves his son:--

"To-day we have received your letters to March 23.... You evidently
misconceived our views in the letters to which you allude, and felt much
too strongly our advice and remarks in respect to your writing us so much
on politics. What we said was the affectionate advice of your parents,
who loved you very tenderly, and who were not unwilling you should judge
for yourself though you might differ from them. We have ever made a very
candid allowance for you, and so have all your friends, and we have never
for a moment believed we should differ a fortnight after you should come
home and converse with us. You have, in the ardor of feeling, construed
many observations in our letters as censuring you and designed to wound
your feelings, which were not intended in the remotest degree by us for
any such purpose....

"I am sorry to hear of the death of Mr. Thornton. He was a good man."

His mother was much less gentle in her reproof. I cull the following
sentences from a long letter of June 1, 1815:--

"In perfect consistency with the feelings towards you all, above
described, we may and ought to tell you, and that with the greatest
plainness, of anything that we deem improper in any part of your conduct,
either in a civil, social, or religious view. This we feel it our duty to
do and shall continue to do as long as we live; and it will ever be your
duty to receive from us the advice, counsel, and reproof, which we may,
from time to time, favor you with, with the most perfect respect and
dutiful observance; and, when you differ from us on any point whatever,
let that difference be conveyed to us in the most delicate and
gentlemanly manner. Let this be done not only while you are under age and
dependent on your parents for your support, but when you are independent,
and when you are head of a family, and even of a profession, if you ever
should be either.... I have dwelt longer on this subject, as I think you
have, in some of your last letters, been somewhat deficient in that
respect which your own good sense will at once convince you was, on all
accounts, due, and which I know you feel the propriety of without any
further observations."

On June 2, 1815, the father writes:--

"We have just received a letter from your uncle, James E.B. Finley, of
Carolina. He fears you will remain in Europe, but hopes you have so much
_amor patrice_ as to return and display your talents in raising the
military and naval glory of the nation, by exhibiting on canvas some of
her late naval and land actions, and also promote the fine arts among us.
He is, you know, an enthusiastic Republican and patriot and a warm
approver of the late war, but an amiable, excellent man. I am by no means
certain that it would not be best for you to come home this fall and
spend a year or two in this country in painting some portraits, but
especially historical pieces and landscapes. You might, I think, in this
way succeed in getting something to support you afterwards in Europe for
a few years.

"I hope the time is not distant when artists in your profession, and of
the first class, will be honorably patronized and supported in this
country. In this case you can come and live with us, which would give us
much satisfaction."

The young man still took a deep interest in affairs political, and
speculated rather keenly on the outcome of the tremendous happenings on
the Continent.

On June 26, 1815, he writes:--

"You will have heard of the dreadful battle in Flanders before this
reaches you. The loss of the English is immense, indeed almost all their
finest officers and the flower of their army; not less than 800 officers
and upwards of 15,000 men, some say 20,000. But it has been decisive if
the news of to-day be true, that Napoleon has abdicated. What the event
of these unparalleled times will be no mortal can pretend to foresee. I
have much to tell you when I see you. Perhaps you had better not write
after the receipt of this, as it may be more than two months before an
answer could be received.

"P.S. The papers of to-night confirm the news of this morning. Bonaparte
is no longer a dangerous man; he has abdicated, and, in all probability,
a republican form of government will be the future government of France,
if they are capable of enjoying such a government. But no one can foresee
events; there may be a long peace, or the world may be torn worse than it
yet has been. Revolution seems to succeed revolution so rapidly that, in
looking back on our lives, we seem to have lived a thousand years, and
wonders of late seem to scorn to come alone; they come in clusters."

The battle in Flanders was the battle of Waterloo, which was fought on
the 18th day of June, and on the 6th of July the allied armies again
entered Paris. Referring to these events many years later, Morse said:--

"It was on one of my visits, in the year 1815, that an incident occurred
which well illustrates the character of the great philanthropist [Mr.
Wilberforce]. As I passed through Hyde Park on my way to Kensington Gore,
I observed that great crowds had gathered, and rumors were rife that the
allied armies had entered Paris, that Napoleon was a prisoner, and that
the war was virtually at an end; and it was momentarily expected that the
park guns would announce the good news to the people.

"On entering the drawing-room at Mr. Wilberforce's I found the company,
consisting of Mr. Thornton [his memory must have played him false in this
particular as Mr. Thornton died some time before], Mr. Macaulay, Mr.
Grant, the father, and his two sons Robert and Charles, and Robert Owen
of Lanark, in quite excited conversation respecting the rumors that
prevailed. Mr. Wilberforce expatiated largely on the prospects of a
universal peace in consequence of the probable overthrow of Napoleon,
whom naturally he considered the great disturber of the nations. At every
period, however, he exclaimed: 'It is too good to be true, it cannot be
true.' He was altogether skeptical in regard to the rumors.

"The general subject, however, was the absorbing topic at the
dinner-table. After dinner the company joined the ladies in the
drawing-room. I sat near a window which looked put in the direction of
the distant park. Presently a flash and a distant dull report of a gun
attracted my attention, but was unnoticed by the rest of the company.
Another flash and report assured me that the park guns were firing, and
at once I called Mr. Wilberforce's attention to the fact. Running to the
window he threw it up in time to see the next flash and hear the report.
Clasping his hands in silence, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, he
stood for a few moments perfectly absorbed in thought, and, before
uttering a word, embraced his wife and daughters, and shook hands with
every one in the room. The scene was one not to be forgotten."

We learn from a letter of his mother's dated June 27, 1815, that the
painting of the "Dying Hercules" had at last been received, but that the
plaster cast of the same subject was still mysteriously missing. The
painting was much admired, and the mother says:--

"Your friend Mr. Tisdale says the picture of the Hercules ought to be in
Boston as the beginning of a gallery of paintings, and that the
Bostonians ought not to permit it to go from here. Whether they will or
not, I know not. I place no confidence in them, but they may take a fit
into their heads to patronize the fine arts, and, in that case, they have
it in their power undoubtedly to do as much as any city in this country
towards their support."

Morse had now made up his mind to return home, although his parents, in
their letters of that time, had given him leave to stay longer if he
thought it would be for his best interest, but his father had made it
clear that he must, from this time forth, depend on his own exertions. He
hoped that (Providence permitting) he need only spend a year at home in
earning enough money to warrant his returning to Europe. Providence,
however, willed otherwise, and he did not return to Europe until fourteen
years later.

The next letter is dated from Liverpool, August 8, 1815, and is but a
short one. I shall quote the first few sentences:--

"I have arrived thus far on my way home. I left London the 5th and
arrived in this place yesterday the 7th, at which time, within an hour,
four years ago, I landed in England. I have not yet determined by what
vessel to return; I have a choice of a great many. The Ceres is the first
that sails, but I do not like her accommodations. The Liverpool packet
sails about the 25th, and, as she has always been a favorite ship with
me, it is not improbable I may return in her."

He decided to sail in the Ceres, however, to his sorrow, for the voyage
home was a long and dreadful one. The record of those terrible
fifty-eight days, carefully set down in his journal, reads like an
Odyssey of misfortune and almost of disaster.

To us of the present day, who cross the ocean in a floating hotel, in a
few days, arriving almost on the hour, the detailed account of the
dangers, discomforts, and privations suffered by the travellers of an
earlier period seems almost incredible. Brave, indeed, were our fathers
who went down to the sea in ships, for they never knew when, if ever,
they would reach the other shore, and there could be no C.Q.D. or S.O.S.
flashed by wireless in the Morse code to summon assistance in case of
disaster. In this case storm succeeded storm; head winds were encountered
almost all the way across; fine weather and fair winds were the
exception, and provisions and fresh water were almost exhausted.

The following quotations from the journal will give some idea of the
terrors experienced by the young man, whose appointed time had not yet
arrived. He still had work to do in the world which could be done by no
other.

"_Monday, August 21, 1815._ After waiting fourteen days in Liverpool for
a fair wind, we set sail at three o'clock in the afternoon with the wind
at southeast, in company with upwards of two hundred sail of vessels,
which formed a delightful prospect. We gradually lost sight of different
vessels as it approached night, and at sunset they were dispersed all
over the horizon. In the night the wind sprung up strong and fair, and in
the morning we were past Holyhead.

"_Tuesday, 22d August._ Wind directly ahead; beating all day; thick
weather and gales of wind; passengers all sick and I not altogether well.
Little progress to-day.

"_Wednesday, 23d August._ A very disagreeable day, boisterous, head winds
and rainy. Beating across the channel from the Irish to the Welsh coast.

"_Friday, 25th August._ Dreadful still; blowing harder and harder; quite
a storm and a lee shore; breakers in sight, tacked and stood over again
to the Irish shore under close-reefed topsails. At night saw Waterford
light again.

"_Monday, 28th August._ A fair wind springing up (ten o'clock). Going at
the rate of seven knots on our true course. We have had just a week of
the most disagreeable weather possible. I hope this is the beginning of
better winds, and that, in reasonable time, we shall see our native
shore.

"_Tuesday, 29th August._ Still disappointed in fair winds.... Since,
then, I can find nothing consoling on deck, let us see what is in the
cabin. All of us make six, four gentlemen and two ladies. Mrs. Phillips,
Mrs. Drake, Captain Chamberlain, Mr. Bancroft, Mr. Lancaster, and myself.
Our amusements are eating and drinking, sleeping and backgammon.
Seasickness we have thrown overboard, and, all things considered, we try
to enjoy ourselves and sometimes succeed.

"_Thursday, 31st August._ Wind as directly ahead as it can blow; squally
all night and tremendous sea. What a contrast does this voyage make with
my first. This day makes the tenth day out and we have advanced towards
home about three hundred miles. In my last voyage, on the tenth day, we
had accomplished one half our voyage, sixteen hundred miles.

"_Friday, 1st September._ Dreadful weather; wind still ahead; foggy,
rainy, and heavy swell; patience almost exhausted, but the will of Heaven
be done. If this weather is to continue I hope we shall have fortitude to
bear it. All is for the best.

"_Saturday, 9th September._ Nineteenth day out and not yet more than one
third of our way to Boston. Oh! when shall we end this tedious passage?

"_Sunday, 10th September._ Calm with dreadful sea. Early this morning
discovered a large ship to the southward, dismasted, probably in the late
gale. Discovered an unpleasant trait in our captain's character which I
shall merely allude to. I am sorry to say he did not demonstrate that
promptitude to assist a fellow creature in distress which I expected to
find inherent in a seaman's breast, and especially in an American
seaman's. It was not till after three or four hours' delay, and until the
entreaties of his passengers and some threatening murmurs on my part of a
public exposure in Boston of his conduct, that he ordered the ship to
bear down upon the wreck, and then with slackened sail and much
grumbling. A ship and a brig were astern of us, and, though farther by
some miles from the distressed ship than we were, they instantly bore
down for her, and rendered her this evening the assistance we might have
done at noon. We are now standing on our way with a fair wind springing
up at southeast, which I suppose will last a few hours. Spent the day in
religious exercises, and was happy to observe on the part of the rest of
the passengers a due regard for the solemnity of the day.

"_Monday, 11th September._ Wind still ahead and the sky threatening.--Ten
o'clock. Beginning to blow hard; taking in sails one after another.--
Three o'clock. A perfect storm; the gale a few days ago but a gentle
breeze to it.... I never witnessed so tremendous a gale; the wind blowing
so that it can scarcely be faced; the sea like ink excepting the
whiteness of the surge, which is carried into the air like clouds of
dust, or like the driving of snow. The wind piping through our bare
rigging sounds most terrific; indeed, it is a most awful sight. The sea
in mountains breaking over our bows, and a single wave dispersing in mist
through the violence of the storm; ship rolling to such a degree that we
are compelled to keep our berths; cabin dark with the deadlights in. Oh!
who would go to sea when he can stay on shore! The wind in southwest
driving us back again, so that we are losing all the advantages of our
fair wind of yesterday, which lasted, as I supposed, two or three hours.

"_Tuesday, 12th September._ Gale abated, but head wind still....

"_Wednesday, 13th September._ All last night a tremendous storm from
northwest.

"_Thursday, 14th September._ The storm increased to a tremendous height
last night. The clouds at sunset were terrific in the extreme, and, in
the evening, still more so with lightning. The sea has risen frightfully
and everything wears a most alarming aspect. At 3 A.M. a squall struck us
and laid us almost wholly under water; we came near losing our
foremast.... None of us able to sleep from the dreadful noises; creakings
and howlings and thousands of indescribable sounds. Lord! who can endure
the terror of thy storm!... Yesterday's sea was as molehills to mountains
compared with the sea to-day....

"_Friday, 15th September._ The storm somewhat abated this morning, but
still blowing hard from southwest.... Twenty-four days out to-day.

"_Saturday, 16th September._ Blowing a gale of wind from southwest. Noon
almost calm for half an hour, when, on a sudden, the wind shifted to the
northeast, when it blew such a hurricane that every one on board declared
they never saw its equal. For four hours it blew so hard that all the sea
was in a perfect foam, and resembled a severe snowstorm more than a dry
blow. If the wind roared before, it now shrilly whistled through our
rigging."

After some days of calm with winds sometimes favorable but light, and,
when fresh, ahead, the journal continues:--

"_Monday, 25th September._ Another gale of wind last night, ahead,
dreadful sea; took in sail and lay to all night.... Beginning to think of
our provisions; bread mouldy and little left; sugar, little left; fresh
provisions, little left; beans, none left; salt pork, little left; salt
beef, a plenty; water, plenty; stores of passengers, some gone and the
rest drawing to a conclusion; patience drawing to a conclusion; in short
all is falling short and drawing to a conclusion except _our voyage and
my journal_....

"_Tuesday, 26th September._... Find our captain to be a complete old
woman; takes in sail at night and never knows when to set it again; the
longer we know him, the more surly he grows; he is not even civil....
Several large turtles passed within a few feet of us yesterday and
to-day, and, considering we are near the end of our provisions, one would
have thought our captain would be anxious to take them; but no, it was
too much trouble to lower the boat from the stern.

"_Friday, 29th September._ Last night another dreadful gale, as severe as
any since we have been out.

"_Monday, 2d October._ Last night another gale of wind from northwest and
is this morning still blowing hard and cold from the same quarter. What a
dreadful passage is ours; we seem destined to have no fair wind, and to
have a gale of wind every other day.

"_Saturday, 7th October._ Wind still ahead and blowing hard; very cold
and dismal. Oh! when shall we see home!... I thought I could observe a
kind of warfare between the different winds since we have been at sea.
The west wind seems to be the tyrant at present, as it were the Bonaparte
of the air. He has been blowing his gales very lavishly, and no other
wind has been able to check him with any success.

"I recollect on one day, while it was calm, a thick bank of clouds began
to rise in the northeast; no other clouds were in the sky. They rose
gently in the calm as if fearful of rousing their deadly foe in the west.
Now they had gained one third of the heavens when, behold, in the
southwest another bank of thick black clouds came rolling up, and,
reddening in the rays of the setting sun, marched on, teeming with fury.
They soon gained the middle of the heavens where the frightened northeast
had not yet reached. They met, they mixed, the routed northeast skulked
back, while the thick column of the southwest, having driven back its
enemy, slowly returned to its repose, proudly displaying a thousand
various colors, as if for victory.

"At another time success seemed to be more in favor of the northeast;
for, shortly after this great defeat, the southwest came forth and, like
a petty tyrant intoxicated with success, began to oppress the subject
ocean. It blew its gales and filled the air with clouds and rain and fog.
Suddenly the northeast, as under cover of the darkness, and as one driven
to desperation, burst forth on its too confident enemy with redoubled
fury. Old ocean groans at the dreadful conflict; for, as in the warring
of two hostile armies on the domains of a neutral, the neutral suffers
most severely, so the neutral ocean seemed doomed to bear the weight of
all their rancor. The southwest flies affrighted. And now the northeast,
vaunting forth, stalks with the rage of an angry demon over the waters;
the ocean foams beneath his breath, it steams and smokes and heaves in
agony its troubled bosom.

"But, alas! how few can bear prosperity; how few, when victory crowns
their efforts, can rule with moderation; how often, does it happen that
we reënact the same scenes for which we punished our enemy. For now has
the northeast become the tyrant and rules with tenfold rigor; he pours
forth all his strength and, drunk with success as soldiers after a
victory, at length sinks away into an inglorious calm.

"Now does the southwest collect his routed forces, checked but not
conquered; he again advances on his recreant foe and seizes the vacant
throne without a struggle. Ill-fated northeast! hadst thou but ruled with
moderation when thou hadst gained, with masterly manoeuvre, the throne of
the air; hadst thou reserved thy forces against surprise, and not, with
prodigal profuseness, lavished them on thy harmless subjects, thou hadst
still been monarch of the sea and air; all would have blessed thee as the
restorer of peace, and as the deliverer of the ocean from western
despotism. But alas! how art thou fallen an everlasting example of
overreaching oppression.

"This evening there is a fine fair wind from northeast carrying us on at
the rate of five or six knots. This is the cause of the foregoing
rhapsody. Had it been otherwise than a fair wind I should never have
been in spirits to have written so much stuff."

Still tantalized by baffling head winds and alternating calms and gales,
they were, however, gradually approaching the coast. Omitting the entries
of the next eleven days, I shall quote the final pages of the journal.

"_Wednesday, 18th October._ Last night was a sleepless night to us all.
Everything wore the appearance of a hard storm; all was dull in the
cabin; scarce a word was spoken; every one wore a serious aspect and, as
any one came from the deck into the cabin, the rest put up an inquisitive
and apprehensive look, with now and then a faint, 'Well, how does it look
now?' Our captain, as well as the passenger captain, were both alarmed,
and were poring over the chart in deep deliberation. A syllable was now
and then caught from them, but all seemed despairing.

"At ten o'clock we lay to till twelve; at four again till five. Rainy,
thick, and hazy, but not blowing very hard. All is dull and dismal; a
dreadful state of suspense, between feelings of exquisite joy in the hope
of soon seeing home, and feelings of gloomy apprehension that a few hours
may doom us to destruction.

"_Half-past seven._... Heaven be praised! The joyful tidings are just
announced of _Land!!_ Oh! who can conceive our feelings now? The wretch
condemned to the scaffold, who receives, at the moment he expects to die,
the joyful reprieve, he can best conceive the state of our minds.

"The land is Cape Cod, distant about ten miles. Joyful, joyful is the
thought. To-night we shall, in all probability, be in Boston. We are
going at the rate of seven knots.

"_Half-past 9._ Manomet land in sight.

"_Ten o'clock._ Cape Ann in sight.

"_Eleven o'clock._ Boston Light in sight.

"_One o'clock._ HOME!!!"

On board the Ship Ceres
Boston Harbour

My Dear Parents,

Thanks to a kind Providence who
has preserved me through all dangers, I have at
length arrived in my native land. I send this
just to prepare you, I shall be with you as
soon as I can possibly get on shore. We have
had 58 days passage long, boisterous, and dangerous,
but more when I see you. Pray tell me
by the bearer if I shall find all well.

Your very affectionate Son,
Samuel B. Morse

October 18, 1875]

CHAPTER X

APRIL 10, 1816--OCTOBER 5, 1818

Very little success at home.--Portrait of ex-President John Adams.--
Letter to Allston on sale of his "Dead Man restored to Life."--Also
apologizes for hasty temper.--Reassured by Allston.--Humorous letter from
Leslie.--Goes to New Hampshire to paint portraits.--Concord.--Meets Miss
Lucretia Walker.--Letters to his parents concerning her.--His parents
reply.--Engaged to Miss Walker.--His parents approve.--Many portraits
painted.--Miss Walker's parents consent.--Success in Portsmouth.--Morse
and his brother invent a pump.--Highly endorsed by President Day and Eli
Whitney.--Miss Walker visits Charlestown.--Morse's religious
convictions.--More success in New Hampshire.--Winter in Charleston, South
Carolina.--John A. Alston.--Success.--Returns north.--Letter from his
uncle Dr. Finley.--Marriage.

There is no record of the meeting of the parents and the long-absent son,
but it is easy to picture the joy of that occasion, and to imagine the
many heart-to-heart conversations when all differences, political and
otherwise, were smoothed over.

He remained at home that winter, but seems to have met with but slight
success in his profession. His "Judgment of Jupiter" was much admired,
but found no purchaser, nor did he receive any commissions for such large
historical paintings as it was his ambition to produce. He was asked by a
certain Mr. Joseph Delaplaine, of Philadelphia, to paint a portrait of
ex-President John Adams for _half_ price, the portrait to be engraved and
included in "Delaplaine's Repository of the Lives and Portraits of
Distinguished American Characters," and, from letters of a later date, I
believe that Morse consented to this.

It appears that he must also have received but few, if any, orders for
portraits, for, in the following summer, he started on a painting tour
through New Hampshire, which proved to be of great moment to him in more
ways than one.

Before we follow him on that tour, however, I shall quote from a letter
written by him to his friend Washington Allston:--

Boston, April 10, 1816.

MY DEAR SIR,--I have but one moment to write you by a vessel which sails
to-morrow morning. I wrote Leslie by New Packet some months since and am
hourly expecting an answer.

I congratulate you, my dear sir, on the sale of your picture of the "Dead
Man." I suppose you will have received notice, before this reaches you,
that the Philadelphia Academy of Arts have purchased it for the sum of
thirty-five hundred dollars. Bravo for our country!

I am sincerely rejoiced for you and for the disposition which it shows of
future encouragement. I really think the time is not far distant when we
shall be able to settle in our native land with profit as well as
pleasure. Boston seems struggling in labor to bring forth an institution
for the arts, but it will miscarry; I find it is all forced. They can
talk, and talk, and say what a fine thing it would be, but nothing is
done. I find by experience that what you have often observed to me with
respect to settling in Boston is well founded. I think it will be the
last in the arts, though, without doubt, it is capable of being the
first, if the fit would only take them. Oh! how I miss you, my dear sir.
I long to spend my evenings again with you and Leslie. I shall certainly
visit Italy (should I live and no unforeseen event take place) in the
course of a year or eighteen months. Could there not be some arrangement
made to meet you and Leslie there?

He lived, but the "unforeseen event" occurred to make him alter all his
plans. Further on in this same letter he says:--

"My conscience accuses me, and hardly too, of many instances of
pettishness and ill-humor towards you, which make me almost hate myself
that I could offend a temper like yours. I need not ask you to forgive
it; I know you cannot harbor anger a minute, and perhaps have forgotten
the instances; but I cannot forget them. If you had failings of the same
kind and I could recollect any instances where you had spoken pettishly
or ill-natured to me, our accounts would then have been balanced, they
would have called for mutual forgetfulness and forgiveness; but when, on
reflection, I find nothing of the kind to charge you with, my conscience
severely upbraids me with ingratitude to you, to whom (under Heaven) I
owe all the little knowledge of my art which I possess. But I hope still
I shall prove grateful to you; at any rate, I feel my errors and must
mend them."

Mr. Allston thus answers this frank appeal for forgiveness:--

MY DEAR SIR,--I will not apologize for having so long delayed answering
your kind letter, being, as you well know, privileged by my friends to be
a lazy correspondent. I was sorry to find that you should have suffered
the recollection of any hasty expressions you might have uttered to give
you uneasiness. Be assured that they never were remembered by me a moment
after, nor did they ever in the slightest degree diminish my regard or
weaken my confidence in the sincerity of your friendship or the goodness
of your heart. Besides, the consciousness of warmth in my own temper
would have made me inexcusable had I suffered myself to dwell on an
inadvertent word from another. I therefore beg you will no longer suffer
any such unpleasant reflections to disturb your mind, but that you will
rest assured of my unaltered and sincere esteem.

Your letter and one I had about the same time from my sister Mary brought
the first intelligence of the sale of my picture, it being near three
weeks later when I received the account from Philadelphia. When you
recollect that I considered the "Dead Man" (from the untoward fate he had
hitherto experienced) almost literally as a _caput mortuum_, you may
easily believe that I was most agreeably surprised to hear of the sale.
But, pleased as I was on account of the very seasonable pecuniary supply
it would soon afford me, I must say that I was still more gratified at
the encouragement it seemed to hold out for my return to America.

His friend Leslie, in a letter from London of May 7, 1816, writes: "Mr.
West said your picture would have been more likely than any of them to
obtain the prize had you remained."

In another letter from Leslie of September 6, 1816, occurs this amusing
passage:--

"The _Catalogue Raisonné_ appeared according to promise, but is not near
so good as the one last year. At the conclusion the author says that Mr.
Payne Knight told the directors it was the custom of the Greek nobility
to strip and exhibit themselves naked to the artists in various
attitudes, that they might have an opportunity of studying fine form.
Accordingly those public-spirited men, the directors, have determined to
adopt the plan, and are all practising like mad to prepare themselves for
the ensuing exhibition, when they are to be placed on pedestals.

"It is supposed that Sir G. Beaumont, Mr. Long, Mr. Knight, etc., will
occupy the principal lights. The Marquis of Stafford, unfortunately,
could not recollect the attitude of any one antique figure, but was found
practising having the head of the Dying Gladiator, the body of the
Hercules, one leg of the Apollo, and the other of the Dancing Faun,
turned the wrong way. Lord Mulgrave, having a small head, thought of
representing the Torso, but he did not know what to do with his legs, and
was afraid that, as Master of the Ordnance, he could not dispense with
his _arms_."

In the beginning of August, 1816, the young man started out on his quest
for money. This was frankly the object of his journey, but it was
characteristic of his buoyant and yet conscientious nature that, having
once made up his mind to give up, for the present, all thoughts of
pursuing the higher branches of his art, he took up with zest the
painting of portraits.

So far from degrading his art by pursuing a branch of it which he held to
be inferior, he still, by conscientious work, by putting the best of
himself into it, raised it to a very high plane; for many of his
portraits are now held by competent critics to rank high in the annals of
art, by some being placed on a level with those of Gilbert Stuart.

On August 8, 1816, he writes to his parents from Concord, New
Hampshire:--

"I have been in this place since Monday evening. I arrived safely....
Massabesek Pond is very beautiful, though seen on a dull day. I think
that one or two elegant views might be made from it, and I think I must
sketch it at some future period.

"I have as yet met with no success in portraits, but hope, by
perseverance, I shall be able to find some. My stay in this place depends
on that circumstance. If none offer, I shall go for Hanover on Saturday
morning.

"The scenery is very fine on the Merrimack; many fine pictures could be
made here alone. I made a little sketch near Contoocook Falls yesterday.
I go this morning with Dr. McFarland to see some views. Colonel Kent's
family are very polite to me, and I never felt in better spirits; the
weather is now fine and I feel as though I was growing fat."

CONCORD, August 16, 1816.

I am still here and am passing my time very agreeably. I have painted
five portraits at fifteen dollars each and have two more engaged and many
more talked of. I think I shall get along well. I believe I could make an
independent fortune in a few years if I devoted myself exclusively to
portraits, so great is the desire for good portraits in the different
country towns.

He must have been a very rapid worker to have painted five portraits in
eight days; but, perhaps, on account of the very modest price he
received, these were more in the nature of quick sketches.

The next letter is rather startling when we recall his recent assertions
concerning "Mrs. Love" and the joys of a bachelor existence.

CONCORD, August 20, 1816.

MY DEAR PARENTS,--I write you a few lines just to say I am well and very
industrious. Next day after to-morrow I shall have received one hundred
dollars, which I think is pretty well for three weeks. I shall probably
stay here a fortnight from yesterday.

I have other attractions besides money in this place. Do you know the
Walkers of this place? Charles Walker Esq., son of Judge Walker, has two
daughters, the elder, very beautiful, amiable, and of an excellent
disposition. This is her character in town. I have enquired particularly
of Dr. McFarland respecting the family, and his answer is every way
satisfactory, except that they are not professors of religion. He is a
man of family and great wealth. This last, you know, I never made a
principal object, but it is somewhat satisfactory to know that in my
profession.

I may flatter myself, but I think I might be a successful suitor.

You will, perhaps, think me a terrible harum-scarum fellow to be
continually falling in love in this way, but I have a dread of being an
old bachelor, and I am now twenty-five years of age.

There is still no need of hurry; the young lady is but sixteen. But all
this is thinking aloud to you; I make you my confidants; I wish your
advice; nothing shall be done precipitately.

Of course all that I say is between you and me, for it all may come to
nothing; I have _some experience_ that way.

What I have done I have done prayerfully. I have prayed to the Giver of
every good gift that He will direct me in this business; that, if it will
not be to his glory and the good of his Kingdom, He will frustrate all;
that, if He grants me prosperity, He will grant me a heart to use it
aright; and, if adversity, that He will teach me submission to his will;
and that, whatever may be my lot here, I may not fall short of eternal
happiness hereafter.

I hope you will remember me in your prayers, and especially in reference
to a connection in life.

I do not think that his parents took this matter very seriously at first.
His was an intensely affectionate nature, and they had often heard these
same raptures before. However, like wise parents, they did not scoff. His
mother wrote on August 23, 1816, in answer: "With respect to the other
confidential matter, I hope the Lord will direct you to a proper choice.
We know nothing of the family, good or bad. We do not wish you to be an
old bachelor, nor do we wish you to precipitate yourself and others into
difficulties which you cannot get rid of."

In the same letter his father says: "In regard to the subject on which
you ask our advice, we refer it, after the experience you have had, and
with the advice you have often had from us, to your own judgment. Be not
hasty in entering into any engagement; enquire with caution and delicacy;
do everything that is honorable and gentlemanly respecting yourself and
those concerned. 'Pause, ponder, sift.--Judge before friendship--then
confide till death.' (Young.) Above all, commit the subject to God in
prayer and ask his guidance and blessing. I am glad to find you are doing
this."

How well he obeyed his father's injunctions may be gathered from the
following letter, which speaks for itself:--

CONCORD, September 2, 1816.

MY DEAR PARENTS,--I have just received yours of August 29. I leave town
to-morrow morning, probably for Hanover, as there is no conveyance direct
to Walpole.

I have had no more portraits since I wrote you, so that I have received
just one hundred dollars in Concord. The last I took for ten dollars, as
the person I painted obtained four of my sitters for me....

With respect to the confidential affair, everything is successful beyond
my most sanguine expectations. The more I know of her the more amiable
she appears. She is very beautiful and yet no coquetry; she is modest,
quite to diffidence, and yet frank and open-hearted. Wherever I have
enquired concerning her I have invariably heard the same character
of--"remarkably amiable, modest, and of a sweet disposition." When you
learn that this is the case I think you will not accuse me of being hasty
in bringing the affair to a crisis. I ventured to tell her my whole
heart, and instead of obscure and ambiguous answers, which some would
have given to tantalize and pain one, she frankly, but modestly and
timidly, told me it was mutual. Suffice it to say we are _engaged_.

If I know my parents I know they will be pleased with this amiable girl.
Unless I was confident of it, I should never have been so hasty. I have
not yet mentioned it to her parents; she requested me to defer it till
next summer, or till I see her again, lest she should be thought hasty.
She is but sixteen and is willing to wait two or three years if it is for
our mutual interest.

Never, never was a human being so blest as I am, and yet what an
ungrateful wretch I have been. Pray for me that I may have a grateful
heart, for I deserve nothing but adversity, and yet have the most
unbounded prosperity.

The father replies to this characteristic letter on September 4, 1816:--

"I have just received yours of the 2d inst. Its contents were deeply
interesting to us, as you will readily suppose. It accounts to us why you
have made so long a stay at Concord.... So far as we can judge from your
representations (which are all we have to judge from), we cannot refuse
you our approbation, and we hope that the course, on which you have
entered with your characteristic rapidity and decision, will be pursued
and issue in a manner which will conduce to the happiness of all
concerned....

"We think _her_ parents should be made acquainted with the state of the
business, as she is so young and the thing so important to them."

The son answers this letter, from Walpole, New Hampshire, on September 7,
1816, thus naively: "You think the parents of the young lady should be
made acquainted with the state of the business. I feel some degree of
awkwardness as it respects that part of the affair; I don't know the
manner in which it ought to be done. I wish you would have the goodness
to write me immediately (at Walpole, to care of Thomas Bellows, Esq.) and
inform me what I should say. Might I communicate the information by
writing?"

Here he gives a detailed account of the family, and, for the first time,
mentions the young lady's name--Lucretia Pickering Walker--and
continues:--

"You ask how the family have treated me. They are all aware of the
attachment between us, for I have made my attention so open and so marked
that they all must have perceived it. I know that Lucretia must have had
some conversation with her mother on the subject, for she told me one
day, when I asked her what her mother thought of my constant visits, that
her mother said she 'didn't think I cared much about her,' in a pleasant
way. All the family have been extremely polite and attentive to me; I
received constant invitations to dinner and tea, indeed every
encouragement was given me....

"I painted two hasty sketches of scenery in Concord. I meet with no
success in Walpole. _Quacks_ have been before me."

There is always a touch of quaint, dry humor in his mother's letters in
spite of their great seriousness, as witness the following extracts from
a letter of September 9, 1816:--

"We hope you will feel more than ever the absolute necessity laid upon
you to procure for yourself and those you love a maintenance, as neither
of you can subsist long upon air.... Remember it takes a great many
hundred dollars to _make_ and to _keep_ the pot a-boiling.

"I wish to see the young lady who has captivated you so much. I hope she
loves religion, and that, if you and she form a connection for life, some
_five or six years hence_, you may go hand in hand to that better world
where they neither marry nor are given in marriage....

"You have not given us any satisfaction in respect to many things about
the young lady which you ought to suppose we should be anxious to know.
All you have told us is that she is handsome and amiable. These are good
as far as they go, but there are a great many etcs., etcs., that we want
to know.

"Is she acquainted with domestic affairs? Does she respect and love
religion? How many brothers and sisters has she? How old are they? Is she
healthy? How old are her parents? What will they be likely to do for her
some years hence, say when she is twenty years old?

"In your next answer at least some of these questions. You see your
mother has not lived twenty-seven years in New England without learning
to ask questions."

These questions he had already answered in a letter which must have
crossed his mother's.

On September 23, 1816, he writes from Windsor, Vermont:--

"I am still here but shall probably leave in a week or two. I long to get
home, or, at least, as far on my way as _Concord_. I think I shall be
tempted to stay a week or two there.... I do not like Windsor very much.
It is a very dissipated place, and dissipation, too, of the lowest sort.
There is very little gentleman's society."

WINDSOR, VERMONT, September 28, 1816.

I am still in this place.... I have written Lucretia on the subject of
acquainting her parents, and I have no doubt she will assent.... I hear
her spoken of in this part of the country as very celebrated, both for
her beauty and, particularly, for her disposition; and this I have heard
without there being the slightest suspicion of any attachment, or even
acquaintance, between us. This augurs well most certainly. I know she is
considered in Concord as the first girl in the place. (You know I always
aimed highest.) The more I think of this attachment the more I think I
shall not regret the _haste_ (if it may be so called) of this proposed
connection....

I am doing pretty well in this place, better than I expected; I have one
more portrait to do before I leave it.... I should have business, I
presume, to last me some weeks if I could stay, but I long to get home
_through Concord_....

Mama's scheme of painting a large landscape and selling it to General
Bradley for two hundred dollars, must give place to another which has
just come into my head: that of sending to you for my great canvas and
painting the quarrel at Dartmouth College, as large as life, with all the
portraits of the trustees, overseers, officers of college, and students;
and, if I finish it next week, to ask five thousand dollars for it and
then come home in a coach and six and put Ned to the blush with his
nineteen subscribers a day. Only think, $5000 a week is $260,000 a year,
and, if I live ten years, I shall be worth $2,600,000; a very pretty
fortune for this time of day. Is it not a grand scheme?

The remark concerning his brother Sidney Edwards's subscribers refers to
a religious newspaper, the "Boston Recorder," founded and edited by him.
It was one of the first of the many religious journals which, since that
time, have multiplied all over the country.

Continuing his modestly successful progress, he writes next from Hanover,
on October 3, 1816:--

"I arrived in this place on Tuesday evening and am painting away with all
my might. I am painting Judge Woodward and lady, and think I shall have
many more engaged than I can do. I painted seven portraits at Windsor,
one for my board and lodging at the inn, and one for ten dollars, very
small, to be sent in a letter to a great distance; so that in all I
received eighty-five dollars in money. I have five more engaged at
Windsor for next summer. So you see I have not been idle.

"I _must_ spend a fortnight at Concord, so that I shall not probably be
at home till early in November.

"I think, with proper management, that I have but little to fear as to
this world. I think I can, with industry, average from two to three
thousand dollars a year, which is a tolerable income, though _not equal
to_ $2,600,000!"

CONCORD, October 14, 1816.

I arrived here on Friday evening in good health and spirits from Hanover.
I painted four portraits altogether in Hanover, and have many engaged for
next summer. I presume I shall paint some here, though I am uncertain.

I found Lucretia in good health, very glad to see me. She improves on
acquaintance; she is, indeed, a most amiable, affectionate girl; I know
you will love her. She has consented that I should inform her parents of
our attachment. I have, accordingly, just sent a letter to her father
(twelve o'clock), and am now in a state of suspense anxiously waiting his
answer. Before I close this, I hope to give you the result.

_Five o'clock._ I have just called and had a conversation (by request)
with Mr. Walker, and I have the satisfaction to say: "I have Lucretia's
parents' entire approbation." Everything successful! Praise be to the
giver of every good gift! What, indeed, shall I render to Him for all his
unmerited and continually increasing mercies and blessings?

In a letter to Miss Walker from a girl friend we find the following:--

"You appear to think, dear Lucretia, that I am possessed of quite an
insensible _heart_; pardon me if I say the same of you, for I have heard
that several have become candidates for your affections, but that you
remained unmoved until Mr. M., of Charlestown, made his appearance, when,
I understand, you did hope that his sentiments in your favor were
reciprocal.

"I rejoice to hear this, for, though I am unacquainted with that
gentleman, yet, when I heard he was likely to become a successful suitor,
I have made some enquiries concerning him, and find he is possessed of
every excellent and amiable quality that I should wish the person to have
who was to become the husband of so dear a friend as yourself."

Morse must have returned home about the end of October, for we find no
more letters until the 14th of December, when he writes from Portsmouth,
New Hampshire:--

"I should have written you sooner but I have been employed in settling
myself. I thought it best not to be precipitate in fixing on a place to
board and lodge, but first to sound the public as to my success. Every
one thinks I shall meet with encouragement, and, on the strength of this,
I have taken lodgings and a room at Mrs. Hinge's in Jaffrey Street; a
very excellent and central situation.... I shall commence on Monday
morning with Governor Langdon's portrait. He is very kind and attentive
to me, as, indeed, are all here, and will do everything to aid me. I wish
not to raise high expectations, but I think I shall succeed tolerably
well."

About this time Finley Morse and his brother Edwards had jointly devised
and patented a new "flexible piston-pump," from which they hoped great
things. Edwards, always more or less of a wag, proposed to call it
"Morse's Patent Metallic Double-headed Ocean-Drinker and Deluge-Spouter
Valve Pump-Boxes."

It was to be used in connection with fire-engines, and seems really to
have been an excellent invention, for President Jeremiah Day, of Yale
College, gave the young inventors his written endorsement, and Eli
Whitney, the inventor of the cotton-gin, thus recommends it: "Having
examined the model of a fire-engine invented by Mr. Morse, with pistons
of a new construction, I am of opinion that an engine may be made on that
principle (being more simple and much less expensive), which would have a
preference to those in common use."

In the letters of the year 1817 and of several following years, even in
the letters of the young man to his _fiancée,_ many long references are
made to this pump and to the varying success in introducing it into
general use. I shall not, however, refer to it again, and only mention it
to show the bent of Morse's mind towards invention.

He spent some time in the early part of 1817 in Portsmouth, New
Hampshire, meeting with success in his profession. Miss Walker was also
there visiting friends, so we may presume that his stay was pleasant as
well as profitable.

In February of that year he accompanied his _fiancée_ to Charlestown, his
parents, naturally, wishing to make the acquaintance of the young lady,
and then returned to Portsmouth to finish his work there.

The visit of Miss Walker to Charlestown gave great satisfaction to all
concerned. On March 4, 1817, Morse writes to his parents from Portsmouth:
"I am under the agreeable necessity (shall I say) of postponing my return
... in consequence of a _press of business_. I shall have three begun
to-night; one sat yesterday (a large one), and two will sit to-day
(small), and three more have it in serious contemplation. This unexpected
occurrence will deprive me of the pleasure of seeing you this week at
least."

And on the next day, March 5, he writes: "The unexpected application of
three sitters at a time completely stopped me. Since I wrote I have taken
a first sitting of a fourth (large), and a fifth (large) sits on Friday
morning; so you see I am over head and ears in business."

As it is necessary to a clear understanding of Morse's character to
realize the depth of his religious convictions, I shall quote the
following from this same letter of March 5:--

"I wish much to know the progress of the Revival, how many are admitted
next communion, and any religious news.

"I have been in the house almost ever since I came from home sifting the
scheme of Universal Salvation to the bottom. What occasioned this was an
occurrence on the evening of Sunday before last. I heard the bell ring
for lecture and concluded it was at Mr. Putnam's; I accordingly sallied
out to go to it, when I found that it was in the Universalist
meeting-house.

"As I was out and never in a Universalist meeting, I thought, for mere
curiosity, I would go in. I went into a very large meeting-house; the
meeting was overflowing with people of both sexes, and the singing the
finest I have heard in Portsmouth. I was struck with the contrast it made
to Mr. Putnam's sacramental lecture; fifteen or sixteen persons thinly
scattered over the house, and the choir consisting of four or five whose
united voice could scarcely be heard in the farthest corner of the
church, and, when heard, so out of harmony as to set one's teeth on edge.

"The reflections which this melancholy contrast caused I could not help
communicating to Mr. Putnam in the words of Mr. Spring's sermon,
'_something must be done_.' He agreed it was a dreadful state of society
here but almost gave up as hopeless. I told him he never should yield a
post like this to the Devil without a struggle; and, at any rate, I told
him that the few Christians that there were (and, indeed, they are but as
one to one thousand) could pray, and I thought it was high time. I told
him I would do all in my power to assist him in any scheme where I could
be of use."

The year 1817 was spent by the young man in executing the commissions
which had been promised him the year before in New Hampshire. In all his
journeyings back and forth the road invariably led through Concord, and
the pure love of the young people for each other increased as the months
rolled by. I shall not profane the sacredness of this love by introducing
any of the more intimate passages of their letters of this and of later
years. The young girl responded readily to the religious exhortations of
her _fiancé_ and became a sincere and devout Christian.

It will not be necessary to follow him in this journey, as the
experiences were but a repetition of those of the year before. He painted
many portraits in Concord, Hanover, and other places, and finally
concluded to venture on a trip to Charleston, South Carolina, where his
kinsman, Dr. Finley, and Mr. John A. Alston had urged him to come,
assuring him good business.

On January 27, 1818, he arrived in that beautiful Southern city and thus
announced his arrival to his parents: "I find myself in a new climate,
the weather warm as our May. I have been introduced to a number of
friends. I think my prospects are favorable."

At first, however, the promised success did not materialize, and it was
not until after many weeks of waiting that the tide turned. But it did
turn, for an excellent portrait of Dr. Finley, one of the best ever
painted by Morse, aroused the enthusiasm of the Charlestonians, and
orders began to pour in, so that in a few weeks he was engaged to paint
one hundred and fifty portraits at sixty dollars each. Quite an advance
over the meagre fifteen dollars he had received in New England. But for
some of his more elaborate productions he received even more, as the
following extract from a letter of Mr. John A. Alston, dated April 7,
1818, will prove:--

"I have just received your favor of the 30th ultimo, and thank you very
cordially for your goodness in consenting to take my daughter's
full-length likeness in the manner I described, say twenty-four inches in
length. I will pay you most willingly the two hundred dollars you require
for it, and will consider myself a gainer by the bargain. I shall expect
you to decorate this picture with the most superb landscape you are
capable of designing, and that you will produce a masterpiece of
painting. I agree to your taking it with you to the northward to finish
it. Be pleased to represent my daughter in the finest attitude you can
conceive."

Mr. Alston was a generous patron and paid the young artist liberally for
the portraits of his children. In recognition of this Morse presented him
with his most ambitious painting, "The Judgment of Jupiter." Mr. Alston
prized this picture highly during his lifetime, but after his death it
was sold and for many years was lost sight of. It was purchased long
afterwards in England by an American gentleman, who, not knowing who the
painter was, gave it to a niece of Morse's, Mrs. Parmalee, and it is
still, I believe, in the possession of the family.

While he was in Charleston his father wrote to him of the dangerous
illness of his mother with what he called a "peripneumony," which, from
the description, must have been the term used in those days for
pneumonia. Her life was spared, however, and she lived for many years
after this.

In June of the year 1818, Morse returned to the North and spent the
summer in completing such portraits as he had carried with him in an
unfinished state, and in painting such others as he could procure
commissions for. He planned to return to Charleston in the following
year, but this time with a young wife to accompany him.

His uncle, Dr. Finley, writing to him on June 16, says:--

"Your letter of 2d instant, conveying the pleasing intelligence of your
safe and very short passage and happy meeting with your affectionate
parents at your own home, came safe to hand in due time.... And so
Lucretia was expected and you intended to surprise her by your
unlooked-for presence.

"Finley, I am afraid you will be too happy. You ought to meet a little
rub or two or you will be too much in the clouds and forget that you are
among mortals. Let me see if I cannot give you a friendly twist
downwards.

"Your pictures--aye--suppose I should speak of them and what is said of
them during your absence. I will perform the office of him who was placed
near the triumphal car of the conqueror to abuse him lest he should be
too elated.

"Well--'His pictures,' say people, 'are undoubtedly good likenesses, but
he paints carelessly and in too much haste and his draperies are not well
done. He must be more attentive or he will lose his reputation.' 'See,'
say others, 'how he flatters.' 'Oh!' says another, 'he has not flattered
me'; etc., etc.

"By the bye, I saw old General C.C. Pinckney yesterday, and he told me,
in his laughing, humorous way, that he had requested you to draw his
brother Thomas twenty years younger than he really was, so as to be a
companion to his own when he was twenty years younger than at this time,
and to flatter him as he had directed Stuart to do so to him."

Morse had now abandoned his idea of soon returning to Europe; he
renounced, for the present, his ambition to devote himself to the
painting of great historical pictures, and threw himself with enthusiasm
into the painting of portraits. He had an added incentive, for he wished
to marry at once, and his parents and those of his _fiancée_ agreed that
it would be wise for the young people to make the venture. Everything
seemed to presage success in life, at least in a modest way, to the young
couple.

On the 6th of October, 1818, the following notice appeared in the New
Hampshire "Patriot," of Concord: "Married in this town, October 1st, by
Rev. Dr. McFarland, Mr. Samuel F.B. Morse (the celebrated painter) to
Miss Lucretia Walker, daughter of Charles Walker, Esq."

On the 5th of October the young man writes to his parents:--

"I was married, as I wrote you I should be, on Tuesday morning last. We
set out at nine o'clock and reached Amherst over bad roads at night. The
next day we continued our journey through Wilton to New Ipswich, eighteen
miles over one of the worst roads I ever travelled, all uphill and down
and very rocky, and no tavern on the road. We enquired at New Ipswich our
best route to Northampton, where we intended to go to meet Mr. and Mrs.
Cornelius, but we found on enquiry that there were nothing but
cross-roads and these very bad, and no taverns where we could be
comfortably accommodated. Our horse also was tired, so we thought our best
way was to return. Accordingly the next day we started for Concord, and
arrived on Friday evening safe home again.

"Lucretia wishes to spend this week with her friends, so that I shall
return (Providence permitting) on this day week, and reach home by
Tuesday noon, probably to dinner. We are both well and send a great deal
of love to you all. Mr. and Mrs. Walker wish me to present their best
respects to you. We had delightful weather for travelling, and got home
just in season to escape Saturday's rain."

CHAPTER XI

NOVEMBER 19, 1818--MARCH 31, 1821.

Morse and his wife go to Charleston, South Carolina.--Hospitably
entertained and many portraits painted.--Congratulates Allston on his
election to the Royal Academy.--Receives commission to paint President
Monroe.--Trouble in the parish at Charlestown.--Morse urges his parents
to leave and come to Charleston.--Letters of John A. Alston.--Return to
the North.--Birth of his first child.--Dr. Morse and his family decide to
move to New Haven.--Morse goes to Washington.--Paints the President under
difficulties.--Hospitalities.--Death of his grandfather.--Dr. Morse
appointed Indian Commissioner.--Marriage of Morse's future mother-in-law.
--Charleston again.--Continued success.--Letters to Mrs. Ball.--
Liberality of Mr. Alston.--Spends the summer in New Haven.--Returns to
Charleston, but meets with poor success.--Assists in founding Academy of
Arts, which has but a short life.--Goes North again.

The young couple decided to spend the winter in Charleston, South
Carolina, where Morse had won a reputation the previous winter as an
excellent portrait-painter, and where much good business awaited him.

The following letter was written to his parents:--

SCHOONER TONTINE, AT ANCHOR OFF CHARLESTON LIGHTHOUSE,
THURSDAY, November 19, 1818, 5 o'clock P.M.

We have arrived thus far on our voyage safely through the kind protection
of Providence. We have had a very rough passage attended with many
dangers and more fears, but have graciously been delivered from them all.
It is seven days since we left New York. If you recollect that was the
time of my last passage in this same vessel. She is an excellent vessel
and has the best captain and accommodations in the trade.

Lucretia was a little seasick in the roughest times, but, on the whole,
bore the voyage extremely well. She seems a little downcast this
afternoon in consequence of feeling as if she was going among strangers,
but I tell her she will overcome it in ten minutes' interview with Uncle
and Aunt Finley and family.

She is otherwise very well and sends a great deal of love to you all.
Please let Mr. and Mrs. Walker know of our arrival as soon as may be. I
will leave the remainder of this until I get up to town. We hope to go up
when the tide changes in about an hour.

FRIDAY MORNING, 20th, AT UNCLE FINLEY'S.

We are safely housed under the hospitable roof of Uncle Finley, where
they received us, as you might expect, with open arms. He has provided
lodgings for us at ten dollars per week. I have not yet seen them; shall
go directly.

I received a letter from Richard at Savannah; he writes in fine spirits
and feels quite delighted with the hospitable people of the South.

This refers to his brother Richard Carey Morse, who was still pursuing
his theological studies.

The visit of the young couple to Charleston was a most enjoyable one, and
the artist found many patrons eager to be immortalized by his brush.

On December 22, 1818, he writes to his parents:--

"Lucretia is well and contented. She makes many friends and we receive as
much attention from the hospitable Carolinians as we can possibly attend
to. She is esteemed quite handsome here; she has grown quite fleshy and
healthy, and we are as happy in each other as you can possibly wish us.

"There are several painters arrived from New York, but I fear no
competition; I have as much as I can do."

As a chronicle of fair weather, favorable winds, and blue skies is apt to
grow monotonous, I shall pass rapidly over the next few years, only
selecting from the voluminous correspondence of that period a few
extracts which have more than a passing interest.

On February 4, 1819, he writes to his friend and master, Washington
Allston, who had now returned to Boston:--

"Excuse my neglect in not having written you before this according to my
promise before I left Boston. I can only plead as apology (what I know
will gratify you) a multiplicity of business. I am painting from morning
till night and have continual applications. I have added to my list, this
season only, to the amount of three thousand dollars; that is since I
left you. Among them are three full lengths to be finished at the North,
I hope in Boston, where I shall once more enjoy your criticisms.

"I am exerting my utmost to improve; every picture I try to make my best,
and in the evening I draw two hours from the antique as I did in London;
for I ought to inform you that I fortunately found a fine 'Venus de
Medicis' without a blemish, imported from Paris sometime since by a
gentleman of this city who wished to dispose of it; also a young Apollo
which was so broken that he gave it to me, saying it was useless. I have,
however, after a great deal of trouble, put it together entirely, and
these two figures, with some fragments,--hands, feet, etc.,--make a good
academy. Mr. Fraser, Mr. Cogdell, Mr. Fisher, of Boston, and myself meet
here of an evening to improve ourselves. I feel as much enthusiasm as
ever in my art and love it more than ever. A few years, at the rate I am
now going on, will place me independent of public patronage.

"Thus much for myself, for you told me in one of your letters from London
that I must be more of an egotist or you should be less of one in your
letters to me, which I should greatly regret.

"And now, permit me, my dear sir, to congratulate you on your election to
the Royal Academy. I know you will believe me when I say I jumped for joy
when I heard it. Though it cannot add to your merit, yet it will extend
the knowledge of it, especially in our own country, where we are still
influenced by foreign opinion, and more justly, perhaps, in regard to
taste in the fine arts than in any other thing."

On March 1, 1819, the Common Council of Charleston passed the following
resolution:--

"Resolved unanimously that His Honor the Intendant be requested to
solicit James Monroe, President of the United States, to permit a
full-length likeness to be taken for the City of Charleston, and that Mr.
Morse be requested to take all necessary measures for executing the said
likeness on the visit of the President to this city.

"Resolved unanimously that the sum of seven hundred and fifty dollars be
appropriated for this purpose.

"Extract from the minutes.

"WILLIAM ROACH, JR.,
"Clerk of Council."

This portrait of President Monroe was completed later on and still hangs
in the City Hall of Charleston. I shall have occasion to refer to it
again.

Morse, in a letter to his parents of March 26, 1819, says:--

"Two of your letters have been lately received detailing the state of the
parish and church. I cannot say I was surprised, for it is what might be
expected from Charlestown people.... As to returning home in the way I
mentioned mama need not be at all uneasy on that score. It is necessary I
should visit Washington, as the President will stay so short a time here
that I cannot complete the head unless I see him in Washington.... Now as
to the parish and church business, I hope all things will turn out right
yet, and I can't help wishing that nothing may occur to keep you any
longer in that nest of vipers and conspirators. I think with Edwards
decidedly that, on mama's account alone, you should leave a place which
is full of the most unpleasant associations to all the family, and retire
to some place of quiet to enjoy your old age.

"Why not come to Charleston? Here is a fine place for usefulness, a
pleasant climate especially for persons advanced in life, and your
children here; for I think seriously of settling in Charleston. Lucretia
is willing, and I think it will be much for my advantage to remain
through the year. Richard can find a place here if he will, and Edwards
can come on and be _Bishop_ or _President_ or _Professor_ in some of the
colleges (for I can't think of him in a less character) after he has
graduated.

"I wish seriously you would think of this. Your friends here would
greatly rejoice and an opening could be found, I have no doubt.
Christians want their hands strengthened, and a veteran soldier, like
papa, might be of great service here in the infancy of the _Unitarian
Hydra_, who finds a population too well adapted to receive and cherish
its easy and fascinating tenets."

All this refers to a movement organized by the enemies of Dr. Morse to
oust him from his parish in Charlestown. He was a militant fighter for
orthodoxy and an uncompromising foe to Unitarianism, which was gradually
obtaining the ascendancy in and near Boston. The movement was finally
successful, as we shall see later, but they did not go as far from their
old haunts as Charleston.

I shall not attempt to argue the rights and wrongs of the case, which
seem to have been rather complicated, for Dr. Morse, more than a year
after this, in writing to a friend says: "The events of the last fifteen
months are still involved in impenetrable mystery, which I doubt not will
be unravelled in due time."

The winter and spring of 1819 were spent by the young couple both
pleasantly and profitably in Charleston. The best society of that
charming city opened its arms to them and orders flowed in in a steady
stream. Mr. John A. Alston was a most generous patron, ordering many
portraits of his children and friends, and sometimes insisting on paying
the young man even more than the price agreed upon.

In a letter to Morse he says: "Which of my friends was it who lately
observed to you that I had a picture mania? You made, I understand, a
most excellent reply, 'You wished I would come to town, then, and bite a
dozen.' Indeed, my very good sir, was it in my power to excite in them a
just admiration of your talents, I would readily come to town and bite
the whole community."

And in another letter of April 10, 1819, Mr. Alston says: "Your portrait
of my daughter was left in Georgetown [South Carolina], at the house of a
friend; nearly all of the citizens have seen it, and I really think it
will occasion you some applications.... Every one thought himself at
liberty to make remarks. Some declared it to be a good likeness, while
others insisted it was not so, and several who made such remarks, I
_knew_ had _never_ seen my daughter. At last a rich Jew gentleman
observed, 'it was the _richest_ piece of painting he had ever seen.' This
being so much in character that I assure you, sir, I could contain myself
no longer, which, spreading among the audience, occasioned not an
unpleasant moment."

Morse and his young wife returned to the North in the early summer of
1819, and spent the summer and fall with his parents in Charlestown. The
young man occupied himself with the completion of the portraits which he
had brought with him from the South, and his wife was busied with
preparations for the event which is thus recorded in a letter of Dr.
Morse's to his son Sidney Edwards at Andover: "Since I have been writing
the above, Lucretia has presented us with a fine granddaughter and is
doing well. The event has filled us with joy and gratitude."

The child was christened Susan Walker Morse. In the mean time the
distressing news had come from Charleston of the sudden death of Dr.
Finley, to whose kindly affection and influence Morse owed much of the
pleasure and success of his several visits to Charleston.

Affairs had come to a crisis in the parish at Charlestown, and Dr. Morse
decided to resign and planned to move to New Haven, Connecticut, with his
family in the following spring.

The necessity for pursuing his profession in the most profitable field
compelled Morse to return to Charleston by way of Washington in November,
and this time he had to go alone, much against his inclinations.

He writes to his mother from New York on November 28, 1819: "I miss
Lucretia and little Susan more than you can think, and I shall long to
have us all together at New Haven in the spring."

His object in going to Washington was to paint the portrait of the
President, and of this he says in a letter: "I began on Monday to paint
the President and have almost completed the head. I am thus far pleased