Friday, February 10, 2023

1831

 

__________ 

“Aunt Hannah punished the scholars with the pudding-stick.” 

Lucy Larcom

__________


Romance in the style of 1831.


“None but madmen would run the hazard.” 

May 20: On this date, George W. Myers, the printer of the Gambier Observer, an Ohio newspaper, offers a copy of an argument first put forward, I believe, in generally the same form, in 1814. 

We quote at length from the words of Noah Worcester: 

    We regard with horror the custom of the ancient heathens in offering their children a sacrifice to idols. We are shocked with the customs of the Hindoos in prostrating themselves before the car of an idol to be crushed to death; in burning women alive on the funeral piles of their husbands; in casting their children, a monthly sacrifice, into the Ganges to be drowned. We read with astonishment of the sacrifices made in Papal crusades, and in Mahometan and Hindoo pilgrimages. But that which is fashionable and popular in any country is esteemed right and honorable, whatever may be its nature in the views of men better informed.

 

    But while we look back, with a mixture of wonder, indignation and pity, on many of the customs of former ages, are we careful to inquire whether some customs which we deem honorable are not the effects of popular delusion? Is it not a fact that one of the most horrid customs of savage men is now popular in every nation in Christendom? What custom of the most barbarous nations is more repugnant to the feelings of piety, humanity and justice, than that of deciding controversies between nations by the edge of the sword, by powder and ball, or the point of the bayonet? What other savage custom has occasioned half the desolation and misery to the human race? …

 

    A war between two nations is generally produced by the influence of a small number of ambitious and unprincipled individuals; while the greater part of the nation has no hand in the business until war is proclaimed.

 

    A vast majority of every civilized nation have an aversion to war; such an aversion that it requires much effort and management, to work up their passions so far, that they are willing personally to engage in such hazardous and bloody conflicts. The more any people are civilized and christianized, the greater is their aversion to war, and the more powerful exertions are necessary to excite what is called the war spirit. Were it not for the influence of a few ambitious or revengeful men, an offensive war could not be undertaken with any prospect of success, except when the mass of the people are either uncivilized or slaves. If, then, as great exertions should be made to excite a just abhorrence of war, as have often been made to excite a war spirit, we may be very certain that rulers would find little encouragement to engage in any war, which is not strictly defensive. And as soon as offensive wars shall cease, defensive wars will of course be unknown. …

 

    To sacrifice human beings to false notions of national honor, or to the ambition or avarice of rulers, is no better than to offer them to Moloch, or any other heathen deity. As soon as the eyes of the people can be opened to see that war is the effect of delusion, it will then become as unpopular as any other heathenish mode of human sacrifice. …

 

    “Duelling [sic] is indeed a horrible practice; but war is as much more horrible as it is more desolating and ruinous. As to the principles on which war is practiced, it has no advantage of duelling. It is in fact national duelling, attended generally with this dishonorable circumstance, that those who give and accept the challenge, call together a multitude of seconds, and then have not the magnanimity, first to risk their own lives, but they involve their seconds in a bloody contest, while they themselves stand remote from danger, as spectators, or at most as directors of the awful combat.

 

… [I]t will be pleaded, that no substitute for war can be devised, which will insure to a nation a redress of wrongs. In reply, we may ask, is it common for a nation to obtain a redress of wrongs by war? As to redress, do not the wars of nations resemble boxing at a tavern, when both the combatants receive a terrible bruising, then drink a mug of flip together, and make peace; each, however, bearing for a long time the marks of his folly and madness? A redress of wrongs by war is so uncommon, that unless revenge is redress, and multiplied injuries satisfaction, we should suppose that none but madmen would run the hazard.

 

    Among the evil effects of war, a wanton undervaluing of human life ought to be mentioned. This effect may appear in various forms. When a war is declared for the redress of some wrong, in regard to property, if nothing but property be taken into consideration, the result is not commonly better, than spending five hundred dollars in a law-suit to recover a debt of ten. But when we come to estimate human lives against dollars and cents, how are we confounded! “All that a man hath will he give for his life.” Yet, by the custom of war, men are so deluded, that a ruler may give fifty or a hundred thousand lives, when only a trifling amount of property is in question, and when the probabilities are as ten to one against him, that even that small amount will not be secured by the contest. It must, however, again be remarked, that war-makers do not usually give their own lives, but the lives of others. How often has a war been declared with a prospect that not less than 50,000 lives must be sacrificed; and while the chief agent in making the war would not have given his own life, to secure to his nation every thing that he claimed from the other? And are rulers to be upheld in thus gambling away the lives of others, while they are careful to secure their own! If people in general could obtain just views of this species of gambling, rulers would not make offensive wars with impunity. How little do they consider the misery and wretchedness which they bring on those for whom they should exercise the kindness and care of a father! … War is in truth the most dreadful species of gambling. Rulers are the gamblers. The lives and property of their subjects are the things they put to hazard in the game; and he that is most successful in doing mischief, is considered as the best gamester. …

 

    Is it not then time for Christians to learn not to attach glory to guilt, or to praise actions which God will condemn? That Alexander [the Great] possessed talents worthy of admiration, will be admitted. But when such talents are prostituted to the vile purpose of military fame, by spreading destruction and misery through the world, a character is formed, which should be branded with everlasting infamy.

 

    And nothing, perhaps, short of commission of such atrocious deeds, can more endanger the welfare of community, than the applause given to successful military desperadoes. Murder and robbery are not the less criminal for being perpetrated by a king, or a mighty warrior. Nor will the applause of deluded mortals secure such monsters from the vengeance of heaven.

 

    Dr. Prideaux states, that in fifty battles fought by Caesar, he slew one million, one hundred and ninety-two thousand of his enemies. If to this number we add the loss of troops on his own side, and the slaughter of women and children on both sides, we shall probably have a total of two millions of human beings, sacrificed to the ambition of one man.

 

    If we assign an equal number to Alexander, and the same to Napoleon, which we probably may do with justice, then to three military characters, we may ascribe the untimely death of six millions of the human family: a number equal to the whole population of the United States, in the year 1800. Is it not then reasonable to believe that a greater number of human beings have been slain by the murderous custom of war, than the whole amount of the present population in the world? To what heathen deity was there ever offered such a multitude of human sacrifices, as have been offered to human ambition?

 

    In a century from this time, the nations of Christendom may consider human sacrifices made by war, in the same light they now view the ancient sacrifices to Moloch; or in the light of wanton and deliberate murder. …

 

    The following things will perhaps be generally admitted; that the Christian religion has abolished the practice of enslaving captives, and in several respects mitigated the evils of war, by introducing milder usages; that if the temper of our Saviour should universally prevail among men, wars must cease to the ends of the earth; that the scriptures give reason to hope such a time of peace will result from the influence of the Christian religion.

 

    If these views and expectations are well founded, does it not follow of course, that the spirit and custom of war is directly opposed to the principles and spirit of the gospel; that in proportion as the gospel has its proper effect on the minds of men, an aversion to war must be excited; and that it is the duty of every Christian to do all in his power to bring the custom into disrepute, and to effect its abolition?

 

    Let us now imagine we hear a soldier among these fighting Christians saying the Lord’s prayer. “Our Father,” says he: O, hardened wretch! can you call him Father, when you are just going to cut your brother's throat? “Hallowed be thy name:” how can the name of God be more impiously unhallowed than by mutual bloody murder among you, his sons? “Thy kingdom come:” do you pray for the coming of his kingdom, while you are endeavoring to establish an earthly despotism by the spilling of the blood of Gods sons and subjects? “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven:” His will in heaven is for peace, but you are now meditating war. Dare you say to your Father in heaven, “Give us this day our daily bread,” when you are going the next moment to burn your brother’s cornfields; and had rather lose the benefit of them yourself, than suffer him to enjoy them unmolested? With what face can you say, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” when so far from forgiving your own brother, you are going, with all the haste you can, to murder him in cold blood, for an alleged trespass, which after all is but imaginary? Do you presume to deprecate danger of “temptation,” who, not without great danger to yourself, are doing all you can to force your brother into danger? Do you deserve to be delivered from evil, that is, from the evil being to whose impulse you submit yourself, and by whose spirit you are guided in contriving the greatest possible evil to your brother?

 

    May not wars usually be traced to one or more of the following causes: – the ambition of princes or governments, instigating them to increase their dominions, and bring other nations under their sway; jealousy at the prosperity and increasing influence of another nation; a love of military glory; a desire of retaliation or revenge for some real or imaginary affront; the anticipation of injury from another power?

 

    If our Creator be the God of Peace; our Redeemer the Prince of Peace; our Sanctifier the Spirit of Peace; and if our guide to heaven be the Gospel of Peace; is it not the imperious duty of all who profess to love God, to be the Sons of Peace?


*

July 4: Former President James Monroe passes away. (Presidents John Adams and Thomas Jefferson pass away on the same day in 1826.) 

    John Quincy Adams, Ammon says, appreciated what Mr. Monroe had done. “He saw in Monroe’s public service a lifetime dedicated to strengthening the nation and establishing it securely on republican principles.” (24/572)


*

LUCY LARCOM’S TALE, A New England Girlhood, tells of her life growing up in the 1830s. McMaster recommends it. 

    Like many books out of copyright, it is available online through the Gutenberg Project. 

    It might bear reading. I note this passage, where Larcom (she was born in 1824, and went on to become a teacher herself) describes attending school at the home of “Aunt Hannah.” Children of all ages are enrolled, so long as they can walk and talk and learn their letters. 

   Aunt Hannah used her kitchen or her sitting room for a schoolroom, as best suited her convenience. We were delighted observers of her culinary operations and other employments. If a baby’s head nodded, a little bed was made for it on a soft “comforter” in the corner, where it had its nap out undisturbed. But this did not often happen; there were so many interesting things going on that we seldom became sleepy.

 

    Aunt Hannah was very kind and motherly, but she kept us in fear of her ferule, which indicated to us a possibility of smarting palms. This ferule was shaped much like the stick with which she stirred her hasty pudding for dinner, – I thought it was the same, – and I found myself caught in a whirlwind of family laughter by reporting at home that “Aunt Hannah punished the scholars with the pudding-stick.”

 

    There was one colored boy in school, who did not sit on a bench, like the rest, but on a block of wood that looked like a backlog turned endwise. Aunt Hannah often called him a “blockhead,” and I supposed it was because he sat on that block. Sometimes, in his absence, a boy was made to sit in his place for punishment, for being a “blockhead” too, as I imagined. I hoped I should never be put there. Stupid little girls received a different treatment, – an occasional rap on the head with the teacher’s thimble; accompanied with a half-whispered, impatient ejaculation, which sounded very much like “Numskull!” I think this was a rare occurrence, however, for she was a good-natured, much-enduring woman.

 

NOTE TO TEACHERS: I wonder what students today would say about this kind of schooling. And what was that unfortunate young African American boy sitting on the block thinking?

 

    Larcom’s father died when she was young, leaving her mother to raise eight children by herself. The family moved to Lowell, Massachusetts and her mother started taking in boarders, girls working in the mills of the town. Lucy went to a real grammar school for the first time. 

    She explains, 

    For the first time in our lives, my little sister and I became pupils in a grammar school for both girls and boys, taught by a man. I was put with her into the sixth class, but was sent the very next day into the first. I did not belong in either, but somewhere between. And I was very uncomfortable in my promotion, for though the reading and spelling and grammar and geography were perfectly easy, I had never studied any thing but mental arithmetic, and did not know how to “do a sum.” We had to show, when called up to recite, a slateful of sums, “done” and “proved.” No explanations were ever asked of us.

 

    The girl who sat next to me saw my distress, and offered to do my sums for me. I accepted her proposal, feeling, however, that I was a miserable cheat. But I was afraid of the master, who was tall and gaunt, and used to stalk across the schoolroom, right over the desk-tops, to find out if there was any mischief going on. Once, having caught a boy annoying a seat-mate with a pin, he punished the offender by pursuing him around the schoolroom, sticking a pin into his shoulder whenever he could overtake him. And he had a fearful leather strap, which was sometimes used even upon the shrinking palm of a little girl. If he should find out that I was a pretender and deceiver, as I knew that I was, I could not guess what might happen to me. He never did, however. I was left unmolested in the ignorance which I deserved. But I never liked the girl who did my sums, and I fancied she had a decided contempt for me.

 

    There was a friendly looking boy always sitting at the master's desk; they called him “the monitor.” It was his place to assist scholars who were in trouble about their lessons, but I was too bashful to speak to him, or to ask assistance of anybody. I think that nobody learned much under that regime, and the whole school system was soon after entirely reorganized.

 

* 

Nat Turner’s Revolt. 

August: On the topic of slavery, and on race in general, Doulgas Southall Freeman is hopeless. (I believe one modern critic has said he mentions Lee’s horse Traveler more often than slavery. 

    In describing Nat Turner’s Revolt, we have the following: 

    The force was able to cover sixty miles in twenty-four hours. It found, most fortunately, that the rising had been put down and that the Negroes had been scattered. Nearly sixty white people, however, had been slain. As a staff officer, Lee did not go to Southampton, but he was profoundly concerned over the outburst, and believed, on the basis of what he heard, that only the Negroes’ misunderstanding of the date of the rising prevented “much mischief.”

 

    The temper of some of the Negroes in tidewater Virginia was considered so menacing that five additional companies of artillery were brought to Fort Monroe and put on duty. This gave the fort a garrison of 680 men, no small part of the army of the United States. (22/29)



*

Slavery: “A positive good.”

JOHN C. CALHOUN reacts angrily to developments in Virginia and the dangers he now sees: 

“It is, indeed, high time for the people of the South to be roused to a sense of impending calamities — on an early and full knowledge of which their safety depends,” Calhoun wrote in an 1831 report to the South Carolina Legislature. “It is time that they should see and feel that . . . they are in a permanent and hopeless minority on the great and vital connected questions.”

 

    Slavery, he insists, is “a positive good,” that “forms the most solid and durable foundation on which to rear free and stable institutions.”


* 

    John Humphrey Noyes, 20, hears Charles Grandison Finley preach, near the end of what has been called “The Second Great Awakening.” “My heart was fixed on the millennium, and I resolved to live or die for it,” he recalled. He drops plans to study law and instead, studies divinity. 

    Finley believed in “Christian perfectionism,” arguing that it was possible for a believer to be free of sin in this lifetime.

 

Thursday, February 9, 2023

1832

 

May: Captain Benjamin Bonneville leads an expedition of 110 men up the Missouri River, exploring in the next two years, large parts of Wyoming and Idaho, and sending a party south to Great Salt Lake and then into California. Back East, the story spreads that he is dead. 

He finally returns to civilization: 

A story is told of Captain Benjamin Bonneville. He took leave of absence, for two years, from the army to trap in the mountains around what is now Salt Lake City.

 

He caught beavers and otter and fished, and the Crows came and cleaned him out, and he kept out of the way for two years more. He was reported dead. He went to the adjutant-general and reported, but the adjutant says: “Bonneville is dead” – He says: “I am not dead.” – “Oh yes,” said the adjutant, “you are dead; you are as dead as a mackeral. Go away from here and don’t disturb the record.”

 

The Life and Deeds of General Sherman by Henry Davenport Northrop, J. H. Moore & Co., Philadelphia, Pa., p. 566.)


* 

THE PAINTER George Catlin heads up the Missouri River to paint and explore. During this journey (one of five he takes between 1830 and 1836, he visits eighteen different Indian tribes.


All pictures shown here are from the blogger's collection.
All by George Catlin.

 








I took pictures of pictures in the museum at Fort Mandan.
The white dots are reflections of lights behind me on the glass.


Many indigenous peoples considered killing a grizzly a high form of courage.


Preparing for a game of lacrosse.




A matter of two cultures.


 

*



To William Lloyd Garrison

by John Greenleaf Whittier

 

CHAMPION of those who groan beneath

   Oppression’s iron hand:

In view of penury, hate, and death,

    I see thee fearless stand.

Still bearing up thy lofty brow,

    In the steadfast strength of truth,

In manhood sealing well the vow

   And promise of thy youth.

Go on, for thou hast chosen well;

   On in the strength of God!

Long as one human heart shall swell

   Beneath the tyrant’s rod.

Speak in a slumbering nation’s ear,

   As thou hast ever spoken,

Until the dead in sin shall hear,

   The fetter’s link be broken!

I love thee with a brother’s love,

   I feel my pulses thrill,

To mark thy Spirit soar above

   The cloud of human ill.

 

My heart hath leaped to answer thine,

   And echo back thy words,

As leaps the warrior’s at the shine

   And flash of kindred swords!

 

They tell me thou art rash and vain,

   A searcher after fame;

That thou art striving but to gain

   A long-enduring name;

That thou hast nerved the Afric’s hand

   And steeled the Afric’s heart,

To shake aloft his vengeful brand,

   And rend his chain apart.

Have I not known thee well, and read

   Thy mighty purpose long?

And watched the trials which have made

   Thy human spirit strong?

And shall the slanderer’s demon breath

   Avail with one like me,

To dim the sunshine of my faith

   And earnest trust in thee?

Go on, the dagger’s point may glare

   Amid thy pathway’s gloom;

The fate which sternly threatens there

   Is glorious martyrdom!

Then onward with a martyr’s zeal;

   And wait thy sure reward

When man to man no more shall kneel,

   And God alone be Lord!


* 

NOTE TO TEACHERS: History can help students learn empathy. I always felt that was a critical goal. I read a good description once of the destruction of Chief Black Hawk’s tribe in 1832; I made this part of one of my lessons. Around the same time the Cherokee tribe in Georgia was fighting to keep its land. But weapons were not the choice. The Cherokee used the law – hired lawyers – went to court – and eventually won their case before the United States Supreme Court. 


    Justice prevailed. Or so I made the students imagine. President Andrew Jackson refused to support the courts. And the Georgia settlers kept pressing in on the native lands. (State law did not recognize the testimony of an Indian against a white. So the settlers could pretty much act with impunity.) The Cherokee were soon driven out of the state and towards the setting sun. 

    Indeed, greed prevailed. 

 

    Black Hawk’s tribe tried to bargain for their land, tried to reason it out. Finally they had no choice except to fight.  

    Black Hawk himself spoke shortly after his defeat.  His words had power and eloquence. I thought my students could appreciate his sorrow. 

    My paragraph of explanation included these words: 

    It may surprise you to see that [Black Hawk] was not just a “fighter.” He thought about and felt deeply the mistreatment his people suffered. As you will note, he expresses the same emotions we might feel in his situation. 

          Here is part of what he said: 

    He has done nothing for which an Indian ought to be ashamed.  He has fought for his countrymen, against the white men, who came, year after year, to cheat them, and take away their lands.  You know the cause of our making war.  It is know to all white men.  They ought to be ashamed of it.  The white men despise [hate] the Indians, and drive them from their homes.  They smile in the face of the poor Indian, to cheat him; they shake him by the hand to gain his confidence, to make him drunk, and to deceive [trick] him.  We told them to let us alone, and keep away from us; but they followed us [and gave us no peace]...they coiled themselves among us like the snake.  They poisoned us by their touch.  We were not safe.  We lived in danger.  We looked up to the Great Spirit [god].  We went to our father [the president of the United States].  We were encouraged.  His great council [Congress] gave us fair words and big promises; but we got no satisfaction:  things were growing worse.   There were no deer in the forest.  The opossum and beaver were fled [gone].  The springs were drying up, and our squaws and papooses without...[food were] starving.

 

    We called a great council and built a large fire.  The spirit of our fathers arose, and spoke to us to avenge [seek revenge for] our wrongs or die.  We sent up the war- whoop, and dug up the tomahawk; our knives were ready, and the heart of Black Hawk swelled high...when he led his warriors to battle. 

 

    He is satisfied.  He will go to the world of the spirits contented.  He has done his duty.  His father will meet him there, and commend [compliment] him.  Black Hawk is a true Indian, and [will not]...cry like a woman.  He feels for his wife, his children and his friends.  But he does not care for himself.  He cares for the Nation and the Indians.  They will suffer.  He [is saddened]...by their fate.  Farewell, my Nation!  Black Hawk tried to save you, and avenge your wrongs.  He drank the blood of some of the whites.  He has been taken prisoner and his plans are crushed.  He can do no more.  He is near his end.  His sun is setting, and he will rise no more. 

 

    Farewell to Black Hawk! 

Source: The Progressive Speaker, by W.R. Vansant (1897).



* 

December 21: Fall River, Massachusetts is rocked by the mystery of young Sarah Maria Cornell’s death. Was it suicide? Was it murder? And how did her death relate to Rev. Ephraim Avery? 

It was well known that Sarah was a congregant at his church. But what connection to her death could he have? 

That morning, as The New York Times Book Review explains, in an appraisal of The Sinners All Bow by Kate Winkler Dawson, 

a farmer found the body of a woman hanging from a pole by a haystack. Her gloved hands were tucked inside her cloak, her shoes lay “neatly” on the grass beside her dangling feet. A cord was wrapped so tightly around her neck that it cut half an inch into her flesh.

 

Men from Fall River identified the deceased as Sarah Maria Cornell. One was her Methodist pastor, Ira Bidwell. Another was Thomas Wilbur, her doctor — who knew that Cornell was pregnant. Ephraim Avery had assaulted her, she had told him.

 

Bidwell rushed off to warn Avery. The coroner’s jury delivered a verdict of suicide, and Cornell was buried the next afternoon.

 

But when farm matrons prepared the body for burial, they discovered “rash violence”: bruises, scratches and large hand marks at the hips. In a trunk of Cornell’s belongings, anonymous letters were found that arranged secret meetings; and, inside a hat box, a scrap of paper read: “If I am missing enquire of the Rev. E.K. Avery.” These findings prompted a second coroner’s jury. The body was exhumed and a new verdict delivered: murder, by strangling.

 

In 1833, Avery stood trial. For nearly a month, his defense team dragged Cornell’s reputation through the mud. This was, according to a scholar Dawson cites, perhaps the first time that a victim was “put on trial in order to exonerate her murderer.” Avery was pronounced not guilty.

 

In her book, Dawson argues that Nathaniel Hawthorne based his book, The Scarlett Letter, written in 1850, on this case. The trial transcript still exists, as does Fall River: An Authentic Narrative, published the same year as the trial, and written by Catharine Read Arnold Williams. 

Dawson calls it the “first narrative book of macabre murder in America.” 

As Dawson explains in her own work, Williams was a popular writer on patriotic and religious subjects, not a crime investigator. She attended Avery’s trial and came away horrified by the “odious” tactics used “to prove the deceased a perfect fiend.” 

In the wake of Rev. Avery’s acquittal, Williams traveled to Fall River in hopes of uncovering the true facts of this “unhappy affair.” Hoping to uncover the truth, she interviewed more than 300 people and did what she could to defend the victim’s sullied honor. 

We know today that Sarah was a factory girl in what was then a factory town, “part of the wave of single women who found work in the mills of the Industrial Revolution. Avery, a married father of four, was a minister in the fledgling denomination of Methodism – whose “racy” fervor and “raucous” revivals appalled conservative Christians.” 

It’s certainly true that Hawthorne visited a waxwork show of murderers and their victims 12 years before he wrote “The Scarlet Letter.” In his journal, he described the effigy of Avery as “an ugly devil, said to be a good likeness.” Compared with Dimmesdale, Avery was a not-so-hot priest, but Cornell found him “captivating” enough. Cornell was not as refined and compelling as Hester Prynne, but she was a seamstress who had been impregnated by a clergyman and publicly shamed (albeit for shoplifting). Still, while it’s plausible that the case inspired Hawthorne, it’s a bit of a red herring.