| By Author | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Title | [ A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z | Other Symbols ] |
| By Language |
|
Download this book: [ ASCII | HTML | PDF ] Look for this book on Amazon Tweet |
Title: The Story of Cooperstown
Author: Birdsall, Ralph, 1871-1918
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Story of Cooperstown" ***
generously made available by Cornell University Digital
Collections)
Transcriber's Note: The majority of the illustrations for this text are
photographs. Where there is a name listed inside the [Illustration:]
tag, that is the name of the photographer. Below that is the caption of
the photograph.
[Illustration: _Joseph B. Slote_
COOPERSTOWN FROM THE NORTHWEST]
THE STORY OF COOPERSTOWN
BY
RALPH BIRDSALL
Rector of Christ Church
_With Sixty-eight Illustrations from Photographs_
NEW YORK,
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS,
1925
Copyright, 1917, by
RALPH BIRDSALL
_First printing, July, 1917_
_Second printing, December, 1917_
_Third printing, August, 1920_
_Fourth printing, August, 1925_
* * * * *
_Printed in the United States of America_
FOREWORD
The ensuing narrative is a faithful record of life in Cooperstown from
the earliest times, except that the persons and events to be described
have been selected for their story-interest, to the exclusion of much
that a history is expected to contain. The dull thread of village
history has been followed only in such directions as served for
stringing upon it and holding to the light the more shining gems of
incident and personality to which it led. Trivial happenings have been
included for the sake of some quaint, picturesque, or romantic quality.
Much of importance has been omitted that declined to yield to such
treatment as the writer had in view. The effort has been made to exclude
everything that seemed unlikely to be of interest to the general reader.
Those who seek family records, or the mention of all names worthy to be
recorded in the history of the village, will find the book wanting.
The local history has been already three times recorded, first in 1838
by Fenimore Cooper, whose work was brought down to date by S. T.
Livermore in 1863, and by Samuel M. Shaw in 1886. While now out of print
many copies of these books are still accessible.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE INDIANS 1
II. THE COMING OF THE WHITE MEN 26
III. A BYPATH OF THE REVOLUTION 51
IV. THE BEGINNING OF THE SETTLEMENT 74
V. A VILLAGE IN THE MAKING 89
VI. OLD-TIME LOVE AND RELIGION 109
VII. HOMES AND GOSSIP OF OTHER DAYS 130
VIII. THE PIONEER COURT ROOM 150
IX. FATHER NASH 163
X. THE IMMORTAL NATTY BUMPPO 174
XI. STRANGE TALES OF THE GALLOWS 192
XII. SOLID SURVIVALS 211
XIII. THE BIRTHPLACE OF BASE BALL 247
XIV. FENIMORE COOPER IN THE VILLAGE 258
XV. MR. JUSTICE NELSON 299
XVI. CHRIST CHURCHYARD 326
XVII. FROM APPLE HILL TO FERNLEIGH 339
XVIII. THE LAKE OF ROMANCE AND FISHERMEN 364
XIX. TWENTIETH CENTURY BEGINNINGS 393
VILLAGE MAP AND GUIDE 432
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
COOPERSTOWN, from the northwest _Joseph B. Slote_ Frontispiece
THE COOPER GROUNDS _Arthur J. Telfer_ 2
COUNCIL ROCK _Arthur J. Telfer_ 8
THE OTSEGO IROQUOIS PIPE 13
AT MILL ISLAND _Charles Frederick Zabriskie_ 21
JOSEPH BRANT, from the Romney portrait 52
SITE OF CLINTON'S DAM _A. J. Telfer_ 71
OTSEGO LAKE, from Cooperstown _A. J. Telfer_ 78
THE OLDEST HOUSE _Charles A. Schneider_ 86
WILLIAM COOPER, from the Stuart portrait 91
AVERELL COTTAGE _C. A. Schneider_ 104
THE WORTHINGTON HOMESTEAD _Forrest D. Coleman_ 110
CHRIST CHURCH _A. J. Telfer_ 127
THE HOUSE AT LAKELANDS, as originally built 131
MRS. WILSON 133
LAKELANDS _C. A. Schneider_ 137
POMEROY PLACE _J. Patzig_ 141
AMBROSE L. JORDAN 151
JORDAN'S HOME, AND HIS LAW OFFICE _C. A. Schneider_ 156
THE HOME OF ROBERT CAMPBELL _J. B. Slote_ 158
FATHER NASH 171
LEATHERSTOCKING MONUMENT _A. J. Telfer_ 185
NATTY BUMPPO'S CAVE _C. A. Schneider_ 188
RIVERBRINK _C. A. Schneider_ 193
EDGEWATER _A. J. Telfer_ 212
RESIDENCE OF W. H. AVERELL AND JUDGE
PRENTISS _C. A. Schneider_ 221
WOODSIDE HALL _Forrest D. Coleman_ 226
THE GATE-TOWER AT WOODSIDE _Walter C. Stokes_ 228
SWANSWICK _A. J. Telfer_ 230
SHADOW BROOK _James W. Tucker_ 233
HYDE HALL _A. J. Telfer_ 238
HYDE CLARKE, from the Emmet portrait 243
A WEDDING DAY AT HYDE _A. J. Telfer_ 246
BASE BALL ON NATIVE SOIL _A. J. Telfer_ 249
THE ORIGINAL HOUSE AT APPLE HILL (now Fernleigh) 256
FENIMORE _A. J. Telfer_ 259
OTSEGO HALL, from an old drawing 260
JAMES FENIMORE COOPER 263
THE CHALET _A. J. Telfer_ 265
THE NOVELIST'S LIBRARY, a drawing by G. Pomeroy Keese 267
A PAGE OF COOPER'S MANUSCRIPT 269
THE HOME OF NANCY WILLIAMS _C. A. Schneider_ 271
THREE-MILE POINT _A. J. Telfer_ 282
THE CALL FOR THE INDIGNATION MEETING 284
THE COOPER SCREENS IN CHRIST CHURCH _F. D. Coleman_ 293
AT FENIMORE COOPER'S GRAVE _Alice Choate_ 297
SAMUEL NELSON, LL.D. 300
THE HOME OF JUSTICE NELSON _C. A. Schneider_ 314
NELSON AVENUE _A. J. Telfer_ 320
CHRIST CHURCHYARD, from the Rectory _Alice Choate_ 327
THE COOPER PLOT, IN CHRIST
CHURCHYARD _A. J. Telfer_ 334
A FUNERAL IN CHRIST CHURCHYARD _J. B. Slote_ 337
MAIN STREET, LOOKING WEST FROM FAIR STREET, 1861 347
FERNLEIGH _A. J. Telfer_ 357
KINGFISHER TOWER _M. Antoinette Abrams_ 359
THE LAKE, FROM THE O-TE-SA-GA _J. B. Slote_ 365
FISHERMEN'S SHANTIES ON THE FROZEN
LAKE _A. J. Telfer_ 374
HOP-PICKING _Elizabeth Hudson_ 378
MAP OF OTSEGO LAKE _Henry L. Eckerson_ 381
THE SUSQUEHANNA, NEAR ITS SOURCE _A. J. Telfer_ 383
LEATHERSTOCKING FALLS _A. J. Telfer_ 387
FIVE-MILE POINT _A. J. Telfer_ 388
MOHICAN CANYON _M. Antoinette Abrams_ 389
GRAVELLY POINT _A. J. Telfer_ 391
BISHOP POTTER _A. F. Bradley_ 395
THE RECTORY _C. A. Schneider_ 396
THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY AND THE
BISHOP OF NEW YORK _A. J. Telfer_ 405
BYBERRY COTTAGE _C. A. Schneider_ 407
THE CLARK ESTATE OFFICE _A. J. Telfer_ 409
THE LYRIC AT COOPER'S GRAVE _J. B. Slote_ 420
COOPERSTOWN, FROM MOUNT VISION _A. J. Telfer_ 430
MAP OF COOPERSTOWN _H. L. Eckerson_ 432
The Story of Cooperstown
CHAPTER I
THE INDIANS
The main street of Cooperstown traverses the village in a direction
generally east and west. While the street and its shops are far superior
to those of most small towns, the business centre, from which the
visitor gains his first impression, gives no hint of the quaint and
rustic beauty that makes Cooperstown one of the most charming villages
in America.
Following the main street toward the east, one reaches the original part
of the settlement, and the prospect is more gratefully reminiscent of an
old-time village. In summer the gateway of the Cooper Grounds opens a
pleasing vista of shaded greensward, while the cross street which runs
down to the lake at this point attracts the eye to a half-concealed view
of the Glimmerglass, with the Sleeping Lion in the distance at the
north.
The historical associations of the village, from the earliest times, are
centered in the Cooper Grounds. Within this space, when the first white
man came, were found apple trees, in full bearing, which Indians had
planted, showing an occupation by red men in the late Iroquois period.
On these grounds the first white settler, Col. George Croghan, built in
1769 his hut of logs. During the Revolutionary War it was upon this spot
that Clinton's troops were encamped for five weeks before their
spectacular descent of the Susquehanna River. On this site William
Cooper, the founder of the village, built his first residence, and
afterward erected Otsego Hall, which later became the home of his son,
James Fenimore Cooper, the novelist.
[Illustration: THE COOPER GROUNDS]
Beyond the Cooper Grounds, on the main street, the buildings seen on
either hand belong to the earlier period of village history, except the
Village Club and Library, which gracefully conforms to the older style.
After passing the next cross-street, the main thoroughfare leads across
the Susquehanna River, and, beyond the bridge, becomes identified with
the old road to Cherry Valley. Keeping on up the incline, one finds
Mount Vision rising before him, and begins to gain fascinating glimpses
into the grounds of Woodside Hall, whose white pillars gleam amid the
pines above the Egyptian gate-tower, and whose windows, commanding the
whole length of the main street westward, reflect the fire of every
sunset.
Just before reaching Woodside, one observes a road which makes off from
the highway at the right, and runs south. Opening from this road to
Fernleigh-Over, and quite close to the corner, is a small iron gate that
creaks between two posts of stone. The gate opens upon a path which
leads, a few paces westward, to a large, terraced mound, well sodded,
and topped by two maple trees.
Sunk into the face of this mound is a slab of granite which bears this
inscription:
WHITE MAN, GREETING!
WE, NEAR WHOSE BONES YOU STAND,
WERE IROQUOIS. THE WIDE LAND
WHICH NOW IS YOURS WAS OURS.
FRIENDLY HANDS HAVE GIVEN BACK
TO US ENOUGH FOR A TOMB.
These lines offer a fitting introduction to the story of Cooperstown.
There is enough of truth and poetry in them to touch the heart of the
most indifferent passer-by. No sense of pride stirs the soul of any
white man as he reads this pathetic memorial of an exiled race and its
vanished empire. From this region and from many another hill and valley
the Indians were driven by their white conquerors, banished from one
reservation to another, compelled to exchange a vast empire of the
forest for the blanket and tin cup of Uncle Sam's patronage.
The mound in Fernleigh-Over is probably an Indian burial site of some
antiquity. In 1874, when the place was being graded, a number of Indian
skeletons were uncovered in various parts of the grounds. The owner of
the property, Mrs. Alfred Corning Clark, caused all the bones to be
collected and buried at the foot of the mound. Some years afterward she
marked the mound with the granite slab and its inscribed epitaph.
The lines were composed by the Rev. William Wilberforce Lord, D.D., a
former rector of Christ Church, in this village, once hailed by
Wordsworth as the coming poet of America. He had written some noble
verse, but wilted beneath the scathing criticism of Edgar Allan Poe,[1]
and after becoming a clergyman published little poetry. This epitaph
alone, however, fully justifies Dr. Lord's earlier ambition, for no poet
of his time could have included more of beauty and truth and pathos
within the compass of so brief an inscription.
In a comment upon the placing of this tablet, Mrs. Clark afterward
wrote: "The position of the stone is misleading, and gives one an idea
that the mound contains the bones--whereas they are buried at the foot
of the mound. I have sometimes wondered if this rather curiously shaped
mound, with the two maple trees thereon, might not contain undisturbed
skeletons; and I feel sure that throughout this strip of land, which the
grading only superficially disturbed, there are many bones of the
Iroquois, for in 1900, when we cut down some trees, a skull was found in
the fork of a root."
Mrs. Clark's record shows that the mound existed prior to 1874, and
since this particular corner of ground was unoccupied before that date
except, for a period, by the barns and stables of Lakelands across the
way, it is reasonable to suppose that the mound was made by the Indians.
While the mounds of New York State cannot be compared in size and extent
with those of the West, writers on Indian antiquities, from
Schoolcraft[2] onward, have identified as the work of red men many such
formations within the Empire State. The mounds were commonly used by the
Indians as places of burial, and sometimes as sites for houses, or as
fortifications.[3] The mound in Fernleigh-Over may be reasonably
regarded as a monument erected by the Indians to the memory of their
dead.
Two Indian skeletons were found in Fernleigh grounds in 1910, when a
tennis court was being made, and the skeletons of Indians have been
unearthed in some other parts of the village. A concealed sentry keeps
vigil not far away from Fernleigh. The garden at the northwest corner of
River and Church streets, nearly opposite to Fernleigh, has had for many
years, on the River Street side, a retaining wall. When Fenimore Cooper
owned the property this wall was his despair. For at a point above
Greencrest, the wall, which then consisted of dry field stone, could
never be kept plumb, but obstinately bulged toward the east; and as
often as it was rebuilt, just so often it tottered to ruin. There was a
tradition that this singular freak was caused by the spirit of an Indian
chief whose grave lay in the garden, and whose resentment toward the
village improvements of a paleface civilization found vigorous
expression in kicking down the wall. It was at last decided to replace
the retaining wall with one of heavier proportions and more solid
masonry. On tearing down the wall the tradition of former years was
recalled, for there sat the grim skeleton of an Indian, fully armed for
war! The new wall included him as before, but to this day there is a
point in the wall where stone and mortar cannot long contain the Indian
spirit's wrath. This Indian sentinel was first discovered by William
Cooper when River Street was graded, and four generations of tradition
in the Cooper family testified to his tutelary character.
The banks of the Susquehanna, near the village, and the shores of
Otsego Lake, have yielded a plentiful harvest of Indian relics in
arrow-heads and spearpoints, with an occasional bannerstone, pipe, or
bit of pottery. Often as the region has been traversed in search of
relics, there seems always to be something left for the careful gleaner;
and the experienced eye, within a short walk along riverbank or
lakeshore, is certain to light upon some memento of the vanished Indian,
while every fresh turning of the soil reveals some record of savage
life.
Morgan describes an Indian trail as being from twelve to eighteen inches
wide, and, where the soil was soft, often worn to a depth of twelve
inches. Deeply as these trails were grooved in the earth by centuries of
use, it is to be doubted if many traces of them now remain, although
over the summit of Hannah's Hill, sheltered by thick pine woods, just
west of the village, there runs toward the lake a trail, which, though
long disused, is clearly marked, and is believed to have been worn by
the feet of Indians. It is indeed possible that this is a remaining
segment of the great trail from the north, which, as Morgan's map[4]
shows, here touched Otsego Lake, and bent toward the southwest. For, in
1911, a likely trace of it was found by Frank M. Turnbull while clearing
the woods on the McNamee property west of the village. In line with the
trail on Hannah's Hill, and southwest of it, were two huge hemlocks that
bore upon their trunks the old wounds of blazes made as if by the axes
of Indians. The blazes were vertical, deeply indented, and the thick
bark had grown outward and around them, forming in each a pocket into
which a man might sink his elbow and forearm. These patriarchal trees of
the forest were about four feet in diameter at the base, and on being
felled showed, by count of the rings, an age of nearly three hundred
years.
[Illustration: COUNCIL ROCK]
When Fenimore Cooper, in _The Deerslayer_, describes Council Rock as a
favorite meeting place of the Indians, where the tribes resorted "to
make their treaties and bury their hatchets," he claims a picturesque
bit of stage setting for his drama, but also records an early
tradition. This rock, sometimes called Otsego Rock, standing forth from
the water where the Susquehanna emerges from the lake, had been a
favorite landmark for the rendezvous of Indians. As one views it now,
from the foot of River Street, it lifts its rounded top not quite so
high above the water as when Cooper described it in 1841. The damming of
the Susquehanna to furnish power for the village water supply has raised
the whole level of Otsego Lake, and gives an artificial fullness to the
first reaches of the long river.
Whether Cooperstown stands upon the site of an old Indian village is a
debated question. Richard Smith's journal describes his visit at the
foot of Otsego Lake in 1769, before the time of any considerable
settlement by white men, and makes no mention of any Indian residents of
the place. He saw many Indians here, but gives the impression that they
were come from a distance to visit the Indian Agent whose headquarters
lay at the foot of Otsego Lake. On the other hand, a stray hint comes
from the papers of William Cooper, among which is a memorandum including
various notes relating to population and other statistics, jotted down
apparently in preparation for a speech or article on early conditions
here, and containing the item, "Old Indian Village." A more significant
record appears in the _Chronicles of Cooperstown_, published in 1838, in
which Fenimore Cooper asserts that "arrow-heads, stone hatchets, and
other memorials of Indian usages, were found in great abundance by the
first settlers, in the vicinity of the village." In _The Pioneers_, his
description of Cooperstown includes, in a location to be identified with
the present Cooper Grounds, fruit trees which he says "had been left by
the Indians, and began already to assume the moss and inclination of
age," when the first settlers came.
The fruit trees would indicate permanent though late occupation of this
site by Indians; "stone hatchets in great abundance" would suggest that
a prehistoric village was here. But it is difficult to understand how so
little trace should now remain of the one-time "great abundance" of
hatchets. Such is not the case at any other permanent prehistoric site
in the general region, where pestles and hatchets continue to be found
even in streets, as well as in yards, and well-tilled gardens.
Every few years the inhabitants of ancient villages in the east were
wont, for various reasons, to build new cabins on new ground, though not
far removed from the old. Not all the sites of ancient Otesaga, if
ancient Otesaga existed, can have been covered by Cooperstown. Some
fields should still produce something out of "an abundance" of village
debris. Yet only one hatchet has come, in many years, from all the foot
of the lake.[5] Many points, spear and arrow, have been found on all
shores of Otsego; for beyond doubt the lake, from very early time, was a
resort for aboriginal hunters and fishermen. But points indicate only
camp sites.
On the whole, by reason of the notable absence at this time of stone
relics indicating permanent residence, it seems possible that the
statement concerning their original abundance was exaggerated, and there
is no good reason for supposing, on the strength of this statement
alone, that there was a prehistoric village on the site of Cooperstown.
Perhaps in early times, during the contests with Southern Indians, the
place lay too much in the way of war parties. But the apple trees,
concerning which there is no doubt, would indicate rather conclusively
an occupation by Indians within the historic period, which, as in the
case of many another of the later villages, might have left small
trace.[6]
In 1895 two young men of Cooperstown who afterward adopted callings in
other fields of science, Benjamin White, Ph.D., and Dr. James Ferguson,
conducted amateur archeological expeditions which resulted in the
discovery of a regular camp site formerly used by the Indians. This lies
within the present village of Cooperstown, on a level stretch along the
west bank of the Susquehanna, in what used to be called the Hinman lot,
but now belongs to Fernleigh, a few rods south of Fernleigh House. It
includes an even floor of low land not far above the level of the river,
containing a spring on its margin, and forming a plot perhaps two
hundred yards in length and half as much in breadth. The ground begins
thence to rise rather steeply toward the north and west, sheltering from
wind and storm the glen below, while affording points of observation,
looking up and down the stream.
The young explorers went carefully over the surface of this ground,
digging to a considerable depth in some parts, and using an ash-sifter
for a thorough examination of the debris. "We found spearheads, game and
war points in large numbers," says Dr. White, "as well as drills,
punches or awls, scrapers, knives, hammer-stones, and sinkers. Deer
horn, bones, and thick strata of ashes were found, the latter in one
place only. Whether or no this was the site of an Indian village, I
cannot say. Altogether it must have yielded six or eight hundred
implements of various sorts. Fernleigh-Over, Riverbrink, and Lakelands
yielded arrow-heads and sinkers, but no other implements. The present
site of the Country Club was a profitable field for arrow-heads."
Dr. Ferguson, referring to the same spot, writes, "I have long had an
idea that there had been a small Indian village located in what we knew
as Hinman's lot. After the land was ploughed we found many arrow-heads,
awls of bone and flint, and fragments of pottery. There were several
areas where fires had been located, the soil being well baked, with
mingled charcoal and burned bones. There were also about the fire sites
fragments of deer horn, bears' teeth, and much broken pottery. Spear
heads were rather few, sinkers and hammer-stones more numerous. I never
found any perfect axes, but did find fragments."
The great number of imperfect arrow-heads and flint chips found here, as
well as on the flat northeast of Iroquois Farm house, and on the low
land between the O-te-sa-ga and the Country Club house, shows the
frequent occupation of these places as Indian camps.
[Illustration: THE OTSEGO IROQUOIS PIPE
(Seven-tenths actual size)]
In 1916 David R. Dorn conducted a more intensive examination of the plot
explored by Dr. White and Dr. Ferguson. His investigation revealed a
site that showed two distinct layers of Indian relics, the lower and
more ancient being of Algonquin type, while the signs of later occupancy
were Iroquois. At about eighteen inches beneath the surface was found
the complete skeleton of an Iroquois Indian. With the skeleton was
unearthed a pipe, of Iroquois manufacture, which Arthur C. Parker, the
State archeologist, declared to be one of the most perfect specimens
known.
Taking all the evidence together, it may be asserted that the present
site of Cooperstown was from ancient times the resort of Indian hunters
and fishermen, and at a later period, more than a generation before its
settlement by white men, as indicated by the size of the apple trees
which they found, included a settled Indian village.
On Morgan's map of Iroquois territory as it existed in 1720, he shows a
village at the foot of Otsego Lake to which he gives the Indian name
Ote-sa-ga.[7] Our present form, Otsego, is a variant of the same
original. Morgan wrote the word in three syllables, adding the letter
"e" after the "t" merely to make sure that the "o" should be pronounced
long. It seems certain that Morgan never pronounced the word as
"O-te-sa-ga." This form of the name, however, when the third syllable
carries the accent and a broad "a," is defensible on the ground of its
majestic euphony, for it should be permitted to take some liberties with
a name that has been spelled by high authorities in a dozen different
ways.
The explanation of Otsego, or Otesaga, as signifying "a place of
meeting" has been generally abandoned by scholars, in spite of the vogue
which Fenimore Cooper gave it along with the interpretation of
Susquehanna as meaning "crooked river." But as to the latter the doctors
disagree, some claiming that Susquehanna, which is not an Iroquois but
an Algonquin word, means "muddy stream"; others, following Dr.
Beauchamp, that it is a corruption of a word meaning "river with long
reaches." It must be confessed that Cooper credited the Indian words
with intelligible and appropriate meanings, so that, in the absence of
agreement among the specialists, the interpretations which he made
popular will continue to satisfy the ordinary thirst for this sort of
knowledge.
Assuming the existence of an Indian village on the present site of
Cooperstown, before the coming of the white man, the question of the
probable character of its inhabitants opens another field of study. Most
of the relics found in this region belong to the Algonquin type. On the
other hand Otsego is an Iroquois word, and it seems to be generally
agreed that the Otsego region was included, in the historic period, in
the possessions of the Iroquois, as the league of the Five Nations was
called by the French. The league included the Mohawks, Oneidas,
Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas; and took in also, in the eighteenth
century, as the sixth nation, the Tuscaroras.[8] While the village at
the foot of the lake would properly be called Mohawk, owing obedience to
the council of the original Mohawk towns, it might well have been
composed largely of Indians from other tribes. Fragments of shattered
tribes found refuge with the Iroquois in the latter days. Some were
adopted; some stayed on sufferance. The Minsis, a branch of the
Delawares, as well as the Delawares proper, were allowed to occupy the
southern part of the Iroquois territory. It will be recalled, in this
connection, that Cooper's favorite Indian heroes, Chingachgook and
Uncas, are of Delaware stock.
It is quite possible that, near the beginning of the eighteenth
century--basing the date, among other things, on the appearance of the
apple trees when the first white man came--there was a cosmopolitan
Indian community at the foot of Otsego Lake. Besides Mohawks, there
would have been included Oneidas, their nearest neighbors on the west;
and probably Delawares, or Mohicans. There might have been also some
one-time prisoners, adopted by the Iroquois, but belonging originally to
distant nations.[9]
All writers on the history of the Eastern Indians agree in assigning the
highest place to the Iroquois. Parkman asserts that they afford perhaps
an example of the highest elevation which man can reach without emerging
from the primitive condition of the hunter. Morgan declares that in the
width of their sway they had reared the most powerful empire that ever
existed in America north of the Aztec monarchy. The home country of the
Iroquois included nearly the whole of the present State of New York, but
at the era of their highest military supremacy, about 1660, they made
their influence felt from New England to the Mississippi, and from the
St. Lawrence to the Tennessee. Within this league, the tribal territory
of the Mohawks extended to the Hudson River and Lake Champlain on the
east, northward to the St. Lawrence, and westward to a boundary not
easily determined, but which included Otsego Lake. In the great league
of the Iroquois the name of the Mohawk nation always stood first, and of
all the Iroquois nations they were the most renowned in war. Joseph
Brant, whom John Fiske calls the most remarkable Indian known to
history, was a Mohawk chief.
Although the field of Iroquois influence was so wide, and their military
fame so great, it is a mistake to imagine that the forests of their time
were thickly peopled with red men, or that they were perpetually at war.
The entire population of the Iroquois throughout what is now the State
of New York probably never numbered more than 20,000 souls. Of these the
whole Mohawk nation counted only about 3,000, grouped in small villages
over their wide territory.[10] The avowed object of the Iroquois
confederacy was peace. By means of a great political fraternity the
purpose was to break up the spirit of perpetual warfare which had wasted
the Indian race from age to age.[11] To a considerable degree this
purpose was realized. After the power of the Iroquois had become
consolidated, their villages were no longer stockaded, such defences
having ceased to be necessary.
Otsego has witnessed other aspects of Indian life than those of war and
the chase. The Iroquois were agriculturists, and they, or rather their
women, cultivated not only fruit trees, but corn, melons, squash,
pumpkins, beans, and tobacco.[12] They had other human interests also,
not unlike our own. As the young people grew up amid sylvan charms that
are wont to stir romantic feelings in the heart of youth to-day, one is
tempted to imagine the trysts in the wood, the flirtations, the
courtships, among Indian braves and dusky maidens, that touched life
with tender sentiment in the days of the red man's glory. During many
summers before the white man came the breath of nature sighing through
the pines of Otsego, the winding river murmuring lovelorn secrets to the
flowers that nodded on its margin, the moon rising over Mount Vision and
shedding its splendor upon the lake, were subtle influences in secret
meetings between men and maidens, in whispered vows beneath the trees,
in courtships on the border of the Glimmerglass, in lovemaking along the
shores of the Susquehanna.
The greater part of the Iroquois were allies of the British in the
Revolutionary War, although some Mohawks remained neutral, and most of
the Oneidas and Tuscaroras became engaged on the side of the Americans.
It is not strange that, in a war whose causes they could not understand,
the Iroquois should have been loyal to the King of England, with whom
their alliances had been made for nearly two centuries. The Indians had
nothing to gain in this war, and everything to lose. They lost
everything, and after the war were thrown upon the mercies of the
victorious Americans. The Iroquois confederacy came to an end, and few
of the Mohawks ever returned to the scene of their council fires, or to
the graves of their ancestors.[13]
Many friendly relationships were established between the white men and
the Indians, both before and after the Revolutionary War. In 1764 there
was a missionary school of Mohawk Indian boys at the foot of Otsego Lake
under the instruction of a young Mohawk named Moses, who had been
educated at a missionary institution for Indians at Lebanon. A report of
one of the missionaries, the Rev. J. C. Smith, written at this time,
gives a glimpse of the Indians as they came under civilizing influence
on the very spot where Cooperstown was afterward to flourish:
"I am every day diverted and pleased with a view of Moses and his
school, as I can sit in my study and see him and all his scholars at any
time, the schoolhouse being nothing but an open barrack. And I am much
pleased to see eight or ten and sometimes more scholars sitting under
their bark table, some reading, some writing and others studying, and
all engaged to appearances with as much seriousness and attention as you
will see in almost any worshipping assembly and Moses at the head of
them with the gravity of fifty or three score."[14]
Miss Susan Fenimore Cooper, daughter of the novelist, says that for some
years after the village was commenced, Mill Island was a favorite resort
of the Indians, who came frequently in parties to the new settlement,
remaining here for months together. Mill Island lies in the Susquehanna
a short distance below Fernleigh, near the dam, where the river reaches
out two arms to enclose it, and with so little effort that it is
difficult to distinguish the island from the mainland. In the early days
of the village the island was covered with woods, and the Indians chose
it for their camp, in preference to other situations. Miss Cooper thinks
it may have been a place of resort to their fishing and hunting parties
when the country was a wilderness. In _Rural Hours_, writing in 1851,
she gives a curious description of a visit made at Otsego Hall by some
Indians who had encamped at Mill Island. There were three of them,--a
father, son, and grandson,--who made their appearance, claiming a
hereditary acquaintance with the master of the house, Fenimore Cooper.
[Illustration: _C. F. Zabriskie_
AT MILL ISLAND]
"The leader and patriarch of the party," says Miss Cooper, "was a
Methodist minister--the Rev. Mr. Kunkerpott. He was notwithstanding a
full-blooded Indian, with the regular copper-colored complexion, and
high cheek bones; the outline of his face was decidedly Roman, and his
long, gray hair had a wave which is rare among his people; his mouth,
where the savage expression is usually most strongly marked, was small,
with a kindly expression about it. Altogether he was a strange mixture
of the Methodist preacher and the Indian patriarch. His son was much
more savage than himself in appearance--a silent, cold-looking man; and
the grandson, a boy of ten or twelve, was one of the most uncouth,
impish-looking creatures we ever beheld. He wore a long-tailed coat
twice too large for him, with boots of the same size. The child's face
was very wild, and he was bareheaded, with an unusual quantity of long,
black hair streaming about his head and shoulders. While the grandfather
was conversing about old times, the boy diverted himself by twirling
around on one leg, a feat which would have seemed almost impossible,
booted as he was, but which he nevertheless accomplished with remarkable
dexterity, spinning round and round, his arms extended, his large black
eyes staring stupidly before him, his mouth open, and his long hair
flying in every direction, as wild a looking creature as one could wish
to see."
After the period of which Miss Cooper writes, Indians were even more
rarely seen in Cooperstown, and their visits soon ceased altogether. It
is a far cry from the Chingachgook and Uncas whom Fenimore Cooper
imagined to the Rev. Mr. Kunkerpott and other Indians whom his daughter
saw and described. So much so that Cooper has been accused of creating,
in his novels, a sort of Indians which never existed either here or
elsewhere. There is no doubt, however, that he studied carefully such
Indians as were in his day to be found, and had some basis of fact for
the qualities which he imparted to the Indians of his imagination. Miss
Cooper says that her father followed Indian delegations from town to
town, observing them carefully, conversing with them freely, and was
impressed "with the vein of poetry and of laconic eloquence marking
their brief speeches."
Brander Matthews says that if there is any lack of faithfulness in
Cooper's presentation of the Indian character, it is due to the fact
that he was a romancer, and therefore an optimist, bent on making the
best of things. He told the truth as he saw it, and nothing but the
truth; but he did not tell the whole truth. Here Cooper was akin to
Scott, who chose to dwell only on the bright side of chivalry, and to
picture the merry England of Richard Lionheart as a pleasanter period to
live in than it could have been in reality. Cooper's red men are
probably closer to the actual facts than Scott's black knights and white
ladies.[15]
Cooper himself comes to the defense of his Indians in the preface of the
_Leather-Stocking Tales_. "It is the privilege of all writers of
fiction," he declares, "more particularly when their works aspire to the
elevation of romances, to present the _beau-ideal_ of their characters
to the reader. This it is which constitutes poetry, and to suppose that
the red man is to be represented only in the squalid misery or in the
degraded moral state that certainly more or less belongs to his
condition, is, we apprehend, taking a very narrow view of an author's
privileges. Such criticism would have deprived the world of even Homer."
Our early history has been less sympathetic toward the Indian. The story
of the massacre which occurred at Cherry Valley, not many miles from
Cooperstown, in 1778, although the Tories who took part in it were quite
as savage as their Indian allies, has made memorable the darker side of
Indian character. But although many innocent victims were exacted by his
revenge both here and elsewhere, it was not without cause that the
Indian resorted to bloody measures against the whites. Americans of
to-day can well afford a generous appreciation of the once powerful race
who were their predecessors in sovereignty on this continent. The league
of the Iroquois is no more, but in the Empire State of the American
Republic the scene of their ancient Indian empire remains. It is left
for the white man to commemorate the Indian who made no effort to
perpetuate memorials of himself, erected no boastful monuments, and
carved no inscriptions to record his many conquests. Having gained great
wealth by developing the resources of a land which the Indians used only
as hunting grounds, the white man may none the less appreciate the lofty
qualities of a race of men who, just because they felt no lust of
riches, never emerged from the hunter state, but found the joy of life
amid primeval forests.
The League of the Iroquois has had a strange history, which is part of
the history of America--a history which left no record, except by
chance, of a government that had no archives, an empire that had no
throne, a language that had no books, a citizenship without a city, a
religion that had no temple except that which the Great Spirit created
in the beginning.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: Poe. _Works_, "William W. Lord," Vol. vii, p. 217
(Amontillado Ed). Edmund Clarence Stedman, in his _Poets of America_, p.
41, 123, champions Lord.]
[Footnote 2: _Notes on the Iroquois_, Henry R. Schoolcraft, Chap. vi.]
[Footnote 3: Major J. W. Powell, _The Forum_, January, 1890.]
[Footnote 4: Lewis H. Morgan's map, 1851, in the _League of the
Iroquois_.]
[Footnote 5: From Fernleigh garden, near the river, 1895.]
[Footnote 6: These opinions are quoted from a communication kindly
written by Willard E. Yager, of Oneonta.]
[Footnote 7: Ote-sa-ga was probably derived, by transposition very
common in like case, from the first map name of Ostega (Ostaga),
1770-1775. Dr. Beauchamp sought to derive this from "otsta," a word for
which Schoolcraft was his authority, and which was supposed to be Oneida
for "rock," the Mohawk form "otsteara." But Schoolcraft, as Beauchamp
himself elsewhere shows (Indian Names, p. 6), sometimes took liberties
with original Indian forms of words. The Mohawk word for "rock" is
"ostenra"; the Oneida would be "ostela." The first with the locative
terminal "ga," gives "ostenraga"; the second, "ostelaga." Both are far
removed from "Ostaga." Ostaga is more naturally derived from the Mohawk
"otsata," or "osata," both which forms occur in Bruyas. Otsataga, by
elision, readily becomes Otstaga, and again Ostaga. The change is even
simpler with Osataga. The meaning of Ostaga, thus explained, would be
"place of cloud," by extension "place of storm"--in contrast, perhaps,
with the little lakes, which were _waiontha_, "calm." (Bruyas,
64).--_Willard E. Yager._]
[Footnote 8: _League of the Iroquois_, Lewis H. Morgan, Lloyd's Ed.,
Vol. I, p. 93.]
[Footnote 9: Yager.]
[Footnote 10: _The Old New York Frontier_, Francis W. Halsey, 16.
_League of the Iroquois_, II. 227.]
[Footnote 11: _League of the Iroquois_, I. 87.]
[Footnote 12: do., I. 249-251.]
[Footnote 13: _The Old New York Frontier_, 150.]
[Footnote 14: _The Old New York Frontier_, 75, 160.]
[Footnote 15: _Address at the Cooperstown Centennial._]
CHAPTER II
THE COMING OF THE WHITE MEN
Within six years after Hendrik Hudson sailed up the river which bears
his name, and some five years before the Pilgrim fathers landed at
Plymouth, the first white men looked upon Otsego Lake, and saw the
wooded shore upon which Cooperstown now stands. It was in 1614, or in
the year following, that two Dutchmen set out from Fort Orange (Albany)
to explore the fur country, and crossing from the Mohawk to Otsego Lake,
proceeded down the Susquehanna.[16] From this time, first under the
Dutch, then under English rule, traders came frequently to the foot of
Otsego Lake. Soon after the traders, Christian missionaries ventured
into the wilderness, ministering at first chiefly to the Indians. Later
came the first settlers.
That the influence of traders was not always helpful to Christian
missionaries is illustrated by an incident in the missionary journey of
the Rev. Gideon Hawley, a Presbyterian divine, who, with some zealous
companions, came from New England to preach to the Indians of the
Susquehanna in 1753. They reached the river at a point where was a
small Indian settlement near the present village of Colliers, seventeen
miles below Cooperstown. Here they were joined by a trader named George
Winedecker, who had come down from Otsego Lake with a boat-load of
goods, including rum, to supply the Indian villages down the river.
During the night the red men, full of Winedecker's rum, became embroiled
in a murderous orgy. The missionaries were awakened by the howling of
the Indians over their dead, and in the morning saw Indian women
skulking in the bushes, hiding guns and hatchets, for fear of the
intoxicated Indians who were drinking deeper. "Here, in one party, were
missionaries with the Bible and a trader with the rum--the two gifts of
the white man to the Indian."[17]
Susquehanna lands were first conveyed to white men by the Indians in
1684 as a part of a treaty of alliance with the English, although the
Indians retained the right to live and hunt on the river. The granting
of land titles by the Provincial government began not long
afterward.[18] The first recorded patent on Otsego Lake was obtained in
1740 by John J. Petrie at the northern end. John Groesbeck, an officer
of the court of chancery, acquired in 1741 a patent lying northeast of
the lake, including what afterward became the Clarke property and the
site of Hyde Hall. Nearly the whole east side of the lake, with the
present Lakelands tract just east of the Susquehanna at its source, was
covered by the patent which Godfrey Miller obtained in 1761, and upon
which, according to the journal of Richard Smith, twelve persons were
resident eight years later.[19]
Early in the eighteenth century it is probable that traders were from
time to time resident at the foot of Otsego, but the first attempt
toward a permanent settlement on the present site of Cooperstown was
made by John Christopher Hartwick in 1761. In that year Hartwick
obtained from the Provincial government a patent to the lands which,
southwest of Cooperstown, still perpetuate his name, and began a
settlement at the foot of Otsego Lake under the misapprehension that the
site was included in his patent. It was not long before Hartwick
discovered his error, and withdrew to the proper limits of his tract,
but this attempt to found a village upon the spot which William Cooper
afterward selected connects with the history of Cooperstown a unique
character and memorable name.
Hartwick, who was born in Germany in 1714, came to America at about
thirty years of age as a missionary preacher, and in his time was as
famous for his eccentricities, as he afterward became for his pious
benefactions. He held some settled charges, but, except for twelve years
at Rhinebeck, he seems for the most part to have been a wandering
preacher, and the records of his pastorates extend from Philadelphia to
Boston, and from Virginia and Maryland to the distant coast of Maine.
If Hartwick would not be long tied down to a settled pastorate, he was
even more fearful of matrimonial bondage, and shunned women as a plague.
It was not an uncommon thing for him, if he saw that he was about to
meet a woman in the road, to cross over, or even to leap a fence, in
order to avoid her. On one occasion when he was disturbed in preaching
by the presence of a dog, he exclaimed with much earnestness that dogs
and children had better be kept at home, and it would not be much
matter, he added, if the women were kept there too![20] Seeking shelter
one night at a log hut not far from the present Hartwick village, he was
cheerfully received by the occupants, a man and his wife, who gave up to
their guest the one bed in the only bedroom, and stretched themselves
for the night upon the floor before the kitchen fire. The night grew
bitter cold, and the wife, awaking, bethought her of the guest, whether
he might not be too lightly covered. She went silently to his room, and
spread upon his bed a part of her simple wardrobe. Hartwick promptly
arose, dressed himself, made his way out of the house to the stable,
saddled his horse, and rode away in the darkness.
His contemporaries agree in representing Hartwick as slovenly in his
habits, often preaching in his blanket coat, and not always with the
cleanest linen; eccentric in his manners, curt, and at times irritable
in his intercourse with others--an exceedingly undesirable addition to
the social and domestic circle, so that his hosts were accustomed to
tell him plainly, at the beginning of a visit, "You may stay here so
many days, and then you must go."[21] In some quarters his visits were
dreaded because of his excessively long prayers at family worship.[22]
One may dwell without malice upon the eccentricities of this singular
man, for they are qualities that set him forth from his more staid
contemporaries, without detracting from the virtues which gave
permanence to his work. Hartwick was a lover of God and men. Although
rough and unpolished, he was a man of learning, being well versed in
theology, and as familiar with the Latin language as with his own.
The great purpose of Hartwick's career was the founding of a community
for the promotion of religion and education, the building in the
wilderness of a Christian city whose halls of learning should influence
the coming ages. The roving life that brought Hartwick into contact with
the Indians awakened his desire to Christianize and educate them, and
the influence which he gained among them opened the way, through the
acquirement of land, for the carrying out of his favorite project. The
patent that he obtained from the Provincial government in 1761 covered a
tract of land, substantially the present town of Hartwick, which he had
purchased from the Indians for one hundred pounds in 1754. In settling
the land Hartwick required each tenant to agree to a condition in the
lease by which the tenant became Hartwick's parishioner, and
acknowledged the authority of Hartwick, or his substitute, as "pastor,
teacher, and spiritual counsellor." Owing to his desultory business
methods and the weight of advancing years, Hartwick after a time found
himself unequal to the management of this estate, and in 1791 William
Cooper, the founder of Cooperstown, became his agent, with authority to
dispose of the property to tenants. By this arrangement Hartwick was cut
off from his original design of being the spiritual director of his
tenants, and came to the end of his life without building the city of
which he dreamed.
Hartwick's last will and testament, however, shows that he never
abandoned his design, but determined that it should be carried out after
his death. The will is one of the most curious documents ever penned, a
mixture of autobiography, piety, and contempt of legal form. A lawyer to
whom he submitted it pronounced it "legally defective in every page, and
almost in every sentence." But Hartwick's only amendment of it was to
add a perplexing codicil to seven other codicils which already had been
appended.[23] The will provides for the laying out of a regular town,
closely built, to be called the New Jerusalem, with buildings and hall
for a seminary.
Hartwick died in 1796, in his eighty-third year. The task of
administering the estate according to the will was found to be almost
hopeless. The executors, aided by a special act of legislature, set
about to carry out its evident spirit. Preliminary to the establishment
of a seminary, the executors sent the Rev. John Frederick Ernst, a
Lutheran minister, to Hartwick patent, to preach to the inhabitants, and
to assist in the education of their youth. In connection with this work
Mr. Ernst came to Cooperstown in 1799, held religious services in the
old Academy, on the present site of the Universalist church, and had
some youngsters of the village under his instruction. His descendants
lived in Cooperstown for more than a century after him.
The main building of Hartwick Seminary was erected in 1812, at the
present site, near the bank of the Susquehanna River, about five miles
southward of Cooperstown, and some four miles eastward from Hartwick
village. The school was opened in 1815, and received from the
legislature a charter in 1816. It is the oldest theological school in
the State of New York, and the oldest Lutheran theological seminary in
America. In addition to being a theological school, Hartwick Seminary is
now devoted to general education, and includes among its pupils not only
boys, but, in spite of the prejudice of its founder, young women.
Among the original trustees named in the charter of Hartwick Seminary
was the Rev. Daniel Nash, the first rector of Christ Church,
Cooperstown. Judge Samuel Nelson, and Col. John H. Prentiss, of
Cooperstown, were afterward trustees for many years, and in their time
there was among the people of this village a lively interest in Hartwick
Seminary, the literary exercises at the end of each scholastic year
being largely attended by visitors from Cooperstown. It is significant
of the close relation which formerly existed between the two villages
that the street which runs westward from the Presbyterian church in
Cooperstown, now called Elm Street, was at one time known to the
inhabitants as "the Hartwick Road."
Local history has wronged[24] the memory of John Christopher Hartwick by
the oft repeated statement that he committed suicide. It is true that a
man named Christianus Hartwick took his own life in 1800, and that his
grave lies in Hinman Hollow, only a few miles from Hartwick Seminary.
But John Christopher Hartwick, after whom the town and seminary are
named, died a natural death at Clermont, N. Y., four years before the
suicide.
A wanderer in life, Hartwick after his death was long in quest of a
peaceful grave. His remains were first buried in the graveyard of the
Lutheran church in East Camp. Two years later, in accordance with the
wish expressed in Hartwick's will, the body was removed and entombed
beneath the pulpit of Ebenezer church, at the corner of Pine and Lodge
streets, in Albany, deposited in a stone coffin, secured by brickwork,
and covered with an inscribed slab of marble. In 1869, when the church
was rebuilt, the body was removed to the public cemetery in Albany. When
this cemetery was converted into Washington Park, Hartwick's body was
transferred to the lot of the First Lutheran church in the Albany Rural
Cemetery on the Troy road, where his dust is now contained in an unknown
and forgotten grave. The board of trustees of Hartwick Seminary
afterward ordered that Hartwick's remains should be disinterred and
brought for burial to the town to which he gave his name, but the
remains could not be found.
The marble slab that once covered the body of Hartwick in Ebenezer
church lay for many years beneath the basement floor of the First
Lutheran church, which succeeded the older building. In 1913 this relic
of Hartwick's sepulchre was sent to the seminary which he founded, where
it occupies once more a place of honor. Besides Hartwick's name, and the
record of his birth and death, the marble bears, inscribed in German,
this sentiment:
Man's life, in its appointed limit,
Is seventy, is eighty years;
But care and grief and anguish dim it,
However joyous it appears.
The winged moments swiftly flee,
And bear us to eternity.
The village of Hartwick is distantly connected with another religious
movement which the founder of Hartwick Seminary would have viewed with
the utmost abhorrence. In 1820, and for several years thereafter, first
in the house of John Davison, and afterward in Jerome Clark's attic, lay
an old trunk containing the closely handwritten pages of a romance
entitled _The Manuscript Found_, by the Rev. Solomon Spaulding. This was
written in 1812, in Conneaut, Ashtabula county, Ohio, where the
exploration of earth mounds containing skeletons and other relics fired
Spaulding's imagination, and suggested the character of his tale. It was
written in Biblical style, and for the purpose of the romance was
presented as a translation from hieroglyphical writing upon metal plates
exhumed from a mound, to which the author had been guided by a vision.
It purported to be a history of the peopling of America by the lost
tribes of Israel. Spaulding frequently read the manuscript to circles of
admiring friends, and afterward carried it to Pittsburgh, leaving it, in
the hope of having it published, in the care of a printer named
Patterson. The manuscript was finally rejected. Spaulding died, and in
1820 his widow married John Davison of Hartwick, to which place the old
trunk containing her first husband's manuscript was sent.
In 1823 Joseph Smith gave out that he had been directed in a vision to a
hill near Palmyra, New York, where he discovered some gold plates
curiously inscribed, and containing a new revelation. This supposed
revelation he published in 1830 as the "Book of Mormon."
Mormonism flourished and moved westward. In the course of time a Mormon
meeting was held in Conneaut, Ohio, and out of curiosity was largely
attended by the townspeople. Some readings were given from the Book of
Mormon, and certain of the hearers were astonished at the similarity
between Joseph Smith's book and _The Manuscript Found_, which Solomon
Spaulding had read aloud to friends in the same town many years before.
They recognized the same peculiar names, unheard of elsewhere, such as
Mormon, Maroni, Lamenite, and Nephi. It was learned, it is said, that
Smith had closely followed Spaulding's story, adding only his own
peculiar tenets about marriage, and inventing the theory of the great
spectacles by means of which he professed to have deciphered the
mysterious characters.
Spaulding's friends raised a question which has never been cleared up
and was at last forgotten. It was pointed out that Sidney Rigdon, who
figured as a preacher and as an adviser of Smith among the first of the
"Latter Day Saints," happened to have been an employé in Patterson's
printing office in Pittsburgh during the very period when Spaulding's
manuscript was there awaiting approval or rejection. But the matter was
never brought to a definite issue, and nothing more came of it except a
rather curious episode. Mrs. Davison removed from Hartwick about 1828,
leaving the trunk in charge of Jerome Clark. In 1834 a man named
Hurlburt sought Mrs. Davison, and said that he had been sent by a
committee to procure _The Manuscript Found_, written by Solomon
Spaulding, so as to compare it with the Mormon Bible. He presented a
letter from her brother, William H. Sabine, of Onondaga Valley, upon
whose farm Joseph Smith had been an employé, requesting her to lend the
manuscript to Hurlburt, in order "to uproot this Mormon fraud." Hurlburt
represented that he himself had been a convert to Mormonism, but had
given it up, and wished to expose its wickedness. On Hurlburt's repeated
promise to return the work, Mrs. Davison gave him a note addressed to
Jerome Clark of Hartwick, requesting him to open the old trunk and
deliver the manuscript. This was done. Hurlburt took the manuscript, and
not only did he never return it, but he never replied to any of the many
letters requesting its return. The Spaulding manuscript has utterly
disappeared.[25]
The year 1768 brings another unique personage into the field of our
local history. In that year the English met the Indians at Fort Stanwix
(Rome, Oneida county) in a conference which resulted in establishing a
formally acknowledged boundary between the territory of the red men and
the land which the colonists had begun to make their own. The lands of
the upper Susquehanna thus became, prior to the Revolution, the extreme
western frontier of old New York, and Otsego Lake was included within
English territory by a margin, at the west, of about twenty miles. Sir
William Johnson, Superintendent of Indian Affairs, conducted the
negotiations, and the securing of the Fort Stanwix deed was one of the
most astute accomplishments of his long career.
An interested party to these proceedings was Sir William's deputy agent
for Indian affairs, Colonel George Croghan, who had accompanied him to
the conference. Nearly twenty years before, Croghan had obtained from
the Indians a tract of land near Fort Pitt (Pittsburgh), in
Pennsylvania. During this Fort Stanwix conference which established the
new frontier Croghan succeeded in getting confirmation of the former
grant, with the privilege of making an exchange for a tract of equal
extent in the region now ceded to the English. Under this agreement
Croghan and certain associates afterward took up 100,000 acres of land
in what are now Otsego, Burlington, and New Lisbon townships, Otsego
county.[26] And so it came about that in the next year, 1769, Colonel
George Croghan came to the foot of Otsego Lake, built him a hut, and was
the first settler on the present site of Cooperstown.
The story of the fortune and failure of Croghan, who was a remarkable
and picturesque character, reads like a romance. He so far surpassed all
men of his time in genius for commerce with the Indians, and in skillful
marketing of Indian products, that Hanna calls him "The King of the
Traders." Lavish in his expenditures, big in his ventures, he made and
lost fortunes with equal facility. He alternated between the height of
opulence and the verge of bankruptcy. Like Sir William Johnson, Croghan
had a special aptitude for making friendships with the Indians, so that,
according to his own statement, "he was in such favor and confidence
with the councils of the Six Nations that he was, in the year 1746,
admitted by them as a Councillor into the Onondaga Councill, which is
the Supreme Councill of the Six Nations. He understands the Language of
the Six Nations and of several other of the Indian nations."[27]
Long before the sojourn in Otsego, Croghan had become, during his fits
of prosperity, a power in the Pennsylvania region, and probably deserved
the pungently qualified praise of Hassler, who, in his _Old
Westmoreland_, declares that "the man of most influence in this
community [Fort Pitt, or Pittsburgh] was the fat old Trader and
Indian-Agent, Colonel George Croghan, who lived on a pretentious
plantation about four miles up the Allegheny River--an Irishman by birth
and an Episcopalian by religion, when he permitted religion to trouble
him."
Two documents relating to Croghan illustrate his extremes of fortune;
the one a petition to protect him against imprisonment for debt, the
other a complaint against him as a monopolist of the fur trade. It seems
that in 1755 Croghan had been compelled by impending bankruptcy and fear
of the debtor's prison to remove from settled parts of Pennsylvania, and
to take refuge in the Indian country. Here he was in great danger from
the French and their Indians, but wrote to the Governor of Pennsylvania
that he was more afraid of imprisonment for debt than of losing his
scalp. At a meeting of the Pennsylvania Assembly in November, 1755,
fifteen creditors of Croghan presented a petition that Croghan and his
partner, William Trent, be rendered free from debt for a space of ten
years. The petition recited that there should be taken into
consideration "the great knowledge of said George Croghan in Indian
affairs, his extensive influence among them, and the service and public
utility he may be of to this Province in these respects."[28] In
accordance with this petition a bill was passed by which Croghan was
freed from the danger of arrest for debt, and, although the act was
vetoed by King George II three years later, Croghan evidently made
profitable use of his liberty.
On July 9, 1759, less than four years after Croghan so narrowly escaped
the debtor's prison, a complaint from Philadelphia was addressed to the
Governor of Pennsylvania protesting against Croghan's policy of crushing
competitors in the trade with Indians by a control of prices in skins
and peltry.[29] The complaint was signed by the eight Provincial
Commissioners for the Indian Trade newly appointed by the Assembly,
including Edward Pennington, the celebrated Quaker merchant of
Philadelphia; Thomas Willing, afterward a member of the Continental
Congress, and the first president of the Bank of North America, the
earliest chartered in the country; and William Fisher, who was mayor of
Philadelphia just before the Revolution. Such formidable opposition
shows that Croghan, from being an object of pity to his creditors, had
risen to affluence as the head of a "trust."
Owing to his business methods, some of the Quakers were not well
disposed toward Croghan. At a conference with the Delawares and Six
Nations held at Easton, in 1758, one of the Quakers present wrote home
an account of the proceedings in a tone not favorable to Croghan. "He
treats them [the Indians] with liquor," wrote the Quaker, "and gives out
that he himself is an Indian.... At the close of the conference one
Nichos, a Mohawk, made a speech.... This Nichos is G. Croghan's
father-in-law."
If Croghan is to be believed, however, he was opposed to giving liquor
to the Indians. While arranging for this very conference he had written
to Secretary Richard Peters of Pennsylvania, "You'll excuse boath
writing and peper, and guess at my maining, fer I have at this minnitt
20 drunken Indians about me. I shall be ruined if ye taps are not
stopt."
Although Croghan had come to America in 1741, this letter, with its
"guess at my maining," and another in which he has "lase" for "lease,"
suggest that, if his pronunciation may be judged from his spelling, he
retained a rich Irish brogue. Certainly his Irish wit and good nature
served him well in his dealing with the Indians. He was frequently
useful in outwitting the French Indian-agents, and in maintaining the
friendship of the red men for the English as against the French. General
Bouquet, who seems to have detested Croghan, wrote to General Gage, at a
time when new powers had been conferred upon Indian-agents, "It is to be
regretted that powers of such importance should be trusted to a man
illiterate, impudent, and ill-bred." Nevertheless, within a few months,
Bouquet wrote to Gage recommending Croghan as the person most competent
to negotiate with the Western Indians for British control of the French
posts in the Illinois country--a mission upon which Croghan was wounded,
captured, and pillaged by the Indians. In 1768 the General Assembly in
Philadelphia put upon record, in a message to the Governor, a high
opinion of Croghan, referring to "the eminent services he has rendered
to the Nation and its Colonies in conciliating the affections of the
Indians to the British interest."
At the end of a stormy voyage from America, being shipwrecked on the
Norman coast, Croghan reached England in February, 1764, bearing an
important letter on Indian affairs from Sir William Johnson to the Lords
of Trade. One might expect to find Croghan gratified by the comforts of
London life as compared with the rough hardships of America. A scout
under Washington's command, a captain of Indians under Braddock, a
border ranger upon the western frontier, a trader upon the banks of the
Ohio, a pioneer in many a wilderness, Croghan had seen all kinds of
hard service in the twenty-three years since he left Ireland. But in the
midst of metropolitan splendors he grew homesick for the wild life of
the New World. Writing in March, and again in April, to American
friends, he expressed his disgust with the city's pride and pomp,
declared that he was sick of London and its vanities, and set forth as
his chief ambition a desire to live on a little farm in America. In the
autumn of the same year Croghan shipped for the long journey across the
Atlantic. It is five years later that he appears at the foot of Otsego
Lake, apparently in fulfillment of his desire to make a home and to be
the founder of a settlement.
In 1769 Richard Smith came to the Susquehanna region from Burlington,
New Jersey. The immediate purpose of his tour was to make a survey of
the Otsego patent in which he, as one of the proprietors, was
interested. Smith traveled up the Hudson River to Albany, thence along
the Mohawk to Canajoharie, from which point his carefully kept
journal[30] abounds in interesting allusions to Otsego:
"13th. May. ... Pursuing a S. W. Course for Cherry Valley
[from Canajoharie]. We met, on their Return, Four Waggons,
which had carried some of Col. Croghan's Goods to his Seat at
the Foot of Lake Otsego.... Capt. Prevost ... is now improving
his Estate at the Head of the Lake; the Capt. married
Croghan's Daughter....
"14th. ... Distance from Cherry Valley to Capt. Prevost's is 9
miles.
"15th. ... We arrived at Capt. Prevost's in 4 Hours, the Road
not well cleared, but full of Stumps and rugged, thro' deep
blac Mould all the Way.... Mr. Prevost has built a Log House,
lined with rough Boards, of one story, on a Cove, which forms
the Head of Lake Otsego. He has cleared 16 or 18 acres round
his House and erected a Saw Mill. He began to settle only in
May last.... The Capt. treated us elegantly. He has several
Families seated near him....
"16th. We proceeded in Col. Croghan's Batteau, large and sharp
at each end, down the Lake,... The Water of greenish cast,
denoting probable Limestone bottom; the Lake is skirted on
either side with Hills covered by White Pines and the Spruce
called Hemloc chiefly. We saw a Number of Ducks, some Loons,
Sea-gulls, and Whitish coloured Swallows, the Water very clear
so that we descried the gravelly Bottom in one Part 10 or 12
Feet down. The rest of the Lake seemed to be very deep; very
little low Land is to be seen round the Lake. Mr. Croghan,
Deputy to Sir William Johnson, the Superintendent for Indian
Affairs, is now here, and has Carpenters and other Men at Work
preparing to build Two Dwelling Houses and 5 or 6 Out Houses.
His Situation [on the site of the Cooper Grounds, within the
present village of Cooperstown] commands a view of the whole
Lake, and is in that Respect superior to Prevost's. The site
is a gravelly, stiff clay, covered with towering white Pines,
just where the River Susquehannah, no more than 10 or 12 yards
broad, runs downward out of the Lake with a strong
Current.[31] Here we found a Body of Indians, mostly from
Ahquhaga,[32] come to pay their Devoirs to the Col.; some of
them speak a little English.... We lodged at Col. Croghan's.
"23rd. ... At Col. Croghan's ... being rainy, we staid here
all day.
"24th. It rained again. The Elevated Hills of this country
seem to intercept the flying vapors and draw down more
moisture than more humble places.... With 3 carpenters felled
a white Pine Tree and began a Canoe.... Some Trout were caught
this Morng. 22 Inches long; they are spotted like ours with
Yellow Bellies, yellow flesh when boiled & wide mouths. There
are Two species, the Common & the Salmon Trout. Some Chubs
were likewise taken, above a Foot in length. The other Fish
common in the Lake & other Waters, according to Information,
are Pickerel, large and shaped like a Pike, Red Perch, Catfish
reported to be upwards of Two feet long, Eels, Suckers, Pike,
a few shad and some other Sorts not as yet perfectly known.
The Bait now used is Pidgeon's Flesh or Guts, for Worms are
scarce. The Land Frogs or Toads are very large, spotted with
green and yellow, Bears and Deer are Common.... Muscetoes &
Gnats are now troublesome. We observed a natural Strawberry
Patch before Croghan's Door which is at present in bloom, we
found the Ground Squirrels and small red squirrels very
numerous and I approached near to one Rabbit whose Face
appeared of a blac Colour.
"25th. We finished and launched our Canoe into the Lake. She
is 32 feet 7 inches in Length and 2 Feet 4 inches broad....
"27th. ... We engaged Joseph Brant, the Mohawk, to go down
with us to Aquahga. Last night a drunken Indian came and
kissed Col. Croghan and me very joyously. Here are Natives of
different Nations almost continually. They visit the Deputy
Superintendent as Dogs to the Bone, for what they can get....
"We found many petrified Shells in these Parts, & sometimes on
the Tops of High Hills.... Col. Croghan showed us a piece of
Copper Ore, as supposed. The Indian who gave it to him said he
found it on our Tract.... Col. C says that some of his Cows
were out in the Woods all last Winter without Hay, and they
now look well....
"The Col. had a Cargo of Goods arrived to-day, such as Hogs,
Poultry, Crockery ware, and Glass. The settled Indian Wages
here are 4s a Day, York Currency, being Half a Dollar.
"28th. Sunday. I had an Opportunity of inspecting the Bark
Canoes often used by the Natives; these Boats are constructed
of a single sheet of Bark, stripped from the Elm, Hiccory, or
Chesnut, 12 or 14 Feet long, and 3 or 4 Feet broad, and sharp
at each End, and these sewed with thongs of the same Bark. In
Lieu of a Gunnel, they have a small Pole fastned with Thongs,
sticks across & Ribs of Bark, and they deposit Sheets of Bark
in her Bottom to prevent Breaches there. These vessels are
very light, each broken and often patched with Pieces of Bark
as well as corked with Oakum composed of pounded Bark.
"The Col. talks of building a Saw Mill and Grist Mill here on
the Susquehannah, near his House, and has had a Millwright to
view the Spot.
"29th. Myself, with Joseph Brant, his wife and Child, and
another Young Mohawk named James, went down in the new Canoe
to our upper Corner.... This River ... is full of Logs and
Trees, and short, crooked Turns, and the Navigation for Canoes
and Batteaux requires dexterity."
The household which Smith visited at the foot of Otsego Lake was an
interesting one, and had some remarkable connections. There was not only
"the fat old trader, and Indian-agent, Colonel George Croghan," but
also his Indian wife, daughter of the Mohawk chief Nichos, or Nickas, of
Canajoharie. Catherine,[33] the Colonel's little daughter, then ten
years old, helped her Indian mother with the household tasks, or danced
in her play about the cabin door, little dreaming that she was afterward
to become the third wife of Joseph Brant, the famous chieftain who had
just guided Richard Smith down the Susquehanna.
Croghan's elder daughter, Susannah, who had married Captain Augustine
Prevost, was the child of Croghan's first wife, a white woman. Capt. and
Mrs. Prevost lived at the head of Otsego Lake, in a house where
Swanswick now stands. Before the coming of Prevost, a settlement had
been made here as early as 1762,[34] the earliest permanent settlement
on Otsego Lake. Captain Augustine Prevost, or Major Prevost, as he
afterward became, was born at Geneva, Switzerland, in 1744, and died at
the age of 77 years, at Greenville, N. Y., where the Prevost mansion
still stands. He was twice married, and had twenty-two children. Prevost
was beloved as a bosom friend and companion by Joseph Brant, and their
intimacy was interrupted, much to the Mohawk's sorrow, only when Prevost
was ordered to join his regiment in Jamaica in 1772. This friendship
with Croghan's son-in-law seems to have brought the famous Mohawk
chieftain as a frequent visitor to Otsego Lake, and may account for his
attachment and subsequent marriage to Croghan's younger daughter. Thus
is completed the circle of intimates that gathered at Croghan's hut, on
the present site of Cooperstown, in 1769--the Irish trader; his Indian
squaw; the British officer and his wife; the young half-Indian girl; and
the Mohawk warrior whose name was to become a terror to settlers
throughout the Susquehanna Valley--the same who afterward was received
at court in London, who dined with Fox, Burke, and Sheridan, was
lionized by Boswell, and had his portrait painted by Romney.[35]
Croghan's attempted settlement was not a success. He began to show signs
of failing health and waning fortune. On July 18, 1769, he wrote from
Lake Otsego to Thomas Wharton of Philadelphia, "Eight days ago I was
favored with yours. I should have answered it before now, but was then
lying in a violent fit of the gout, for ye first time, wh. has confin'd
me to bed for 18 days, & now am only able to sit up on ye bedside."
During the next winter Croghan was in New York and Philadelphia, but in
March and April, 1770, he was again at Otsego, whence he wrote to Sir
William Johnson concerning financial difficulties. In May he wrote of a
proposed journey southward for his health and business interests.
But Croghan was never in business for his health. In October he was once
more on his old plantation near Fort Pitt, where Washington, on an
exploring expedition, visited him and dined with him. It seems that he
was trying to persuade Washington to buy land of him in the West, and,
according to Washington's surveyor, Captain William Crawford, was using
Washington's prospective purchases as an inducement to others, at the
same time not being very sure of his title, "selling any land that any
person will buy of him, inside or outside of his line."
Croghan never returned to Otsego. He mortgaged his tract of land to
William Franklin, son of Benjamin Franklin, and lost it under
foreclosure in 1773. The title later passed to William Cooper and Andrew
Craig, both of Burlington, New Jersey, which was also the home of
Richard Smith, who had visited Croghan at Otsego.
Appended to one of Croghan's deeds is a map purporting to show the
improvements which he had made at the foot of the lake, but, says
Fenimore Cooper, "it is supposed that this map was made for effect."
When William Cooper first visited the spot, in 1785, the only building
was one of hewn logs, about fifteen feet square, probably Croghan's hut,
deserted and dismantled, standing in the space now included in the
Cooper Grounds, near the site of the present Clark Estate office. Except
for the visit of Clinton's troops in 1779, the place had been abandoned
for fifteen years. The only signs of "improvements" were seen in a few
places cleared of underbrush, with felled and girdled trees, and in the
remains of some log fences already falling into ruin. Silence and
desolation had fallen upon "the little farm in America" upon which
Croghan had dreamed of passing his declining years.
In an inventory of the estate of Alexander Ross of Pittsburgh, 1784,
appears in the record of effects a promissory note made by George
Croghan, with this appended remark: "Dead, and no Property."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 16: _The Old New York Frontier_, 32.]
[Footnote 17: _The Old New York Frontier_, 61.]
[Footnote 18: _Four Great Rivers_, Halsey, lvii.]
[Footnote 19: _Four Great Rivers_, 35.]
[Footnote 20: Henry M. Pohlman, D.D., _Hartwick Seminary Memorial
Volume_, 1867, p. 21.]
[Footnote 21: Pohlman, 23.]
[Footnote 22: James Pitcher, D.D., _Centennial Address_, 1897, p. 7.]
[Footnote 23: _Hartwick Sem. Mem._, 27.]
[Footnote 24: _History of Cooperstown_, Livermore, 11.]
[Footnote 25: "The Book of Mormon," _Scribner's Magazine_, August,
1880.]
[Footnote 26: _The Wilderness Trail_, Chas. A. Hanna, II, 59, 60.]
[Footnote 27: _The Wilderness Trail_, II, 30.]
[Footnote 28: _The Wilderness Trail_, II, 8.]
[Footnote 29: do., II, 20.]
[Footnote 30: Published in _Four Great Rivers_.]
[Footnote 31: This current is now sluggish, owing to the dam of the
water works lower down the river.]
[Footnote 32: The largest Indian village in the Susquehanna Valley,
about 50 miles in an air line from Otsego, twice as far by water,
situated on the river at a point where the present village of Windsor
stands, some 14 miles easterly from Binghamton.]
[Footnote 33: _The Wilderness Trail_, II, 84.]
[Footnote 34: _The Old New York Frontier_, 125.]
[Footnote 35: _The Old New York Frontier_, 320.]
CHAPTER III
A BYPATH OF THE REVOLUTION
The settlers on the New York frontier were many of them Scotch-Irish,
nursing an inherited hostility to England. The greater part of the
Iroquois Indians, more particularly the Mohawks, had a sentimental
regard for the covenant which, for a century, had made the red men loyal
to the British king. Here was a native antagonism between settlers and
Indians which during the Revolution partly contributed to the warfare of
torch and scalping knife that raged in the Susquehanna region.
Brant, the Mohawk chief, although himself a full-blooded Indian, known
among his own people as Thayendanegea, had become, through long
association with Sir William Johnson and his friends, a king's man and
churchman. With the doctrines of the Church of England which he had
embraced on becoming a communicant, he adopted also the contempt for
dissenters which was so common among churchmen. Once, on tasting a
crabapple, it is said, Brant puckered up his mouth, and exclaimed, "It
is as bitter as a Presbyterian!" While in other parts of the country
many churchmen espoused the cause of American independence, it happened
that in the Susquehanna region the patriots were generally Calvinists.
[Illustration: JOSEPH BRANT
From the portrait by Romney]
Another contributory cause of trouble between the Indians and
frontiersmen had to do with the lands around the Mohawk villages,
concerning which there had been frequent disputes since the Fort Stanwix
treaty.[36]
In May, 1777, Brant established himself with a band of Indian warriors
and some Tories at Unadilla, driving out the settlers, and serving
notice upon all that they must either leave the country or declare
themselves for the English cause. At a conference held among officers of
the American forces it was decided that General Nicholas Herkimer, the
military chief of Tryon county, (which then included the region that
later became Otsego county), should go to Unadilla to parley with the
Indians. Herkimer, with 380 men, came down from Canajoharie through
Cherry Valley to Otsego Lake, and thence along the Susquehanna River to
Unadilla, which he reached late in June. Thus the Indian trail which
passed near Council Rock was first used as the path of the paleface
warriors.
The conference at Unadilla found the Indians fully determined for the
British cause, and came to an abrupt termination, beneath darkened
skies, amid a hubbub of Mohawk war-whoops and the rattle of a sudden
hailstorm that swooped down upon the assemblage. Herkimer marched his
men back to Cherry Valley.[37]
Six weeks later the battle of Oriskany was fought, a victory for the
militia of Tryon County, but a costly victory, for it inflamed their
hitherto lukewarm Indian enemies with the spirit of revenge, and set in
motion the forces of border warfare which during the next five years
desolated the frontier. The forays along the border had a direct
relation to the central conflict of the Revolutionary War. With the
Indians for allies it was the policy of the British to harry the
settlers on the frontier, in order to draw away to their defense forces
that were essential to the strength of the Americans in the Hudson
Valley. Aside from motives of private vengeance among Indians and
Tories, this was the military purpose which determined the burning of
Springfield, at the head of Otsego Lake, in June, 1778, and the massacre
of Cherry Valley in November.[38]
To protect the frontier against further raids, an expedition was
planned, consisting of two divisions: one under General John Sullivan,
which was to cross from Easton to the Susquehanna, and thence ascend the
river to Tioga Point (Athens, Pa.); the other, under General James
Clinton, was to proceed from Albany up the Mohawk to Canajoharie,
crossing to Otsego Lake, and going thence down the Susquehanna to Tioga
Point, where the two divisions were to unite in a combined attack upon
the Indian settlements in Western New York.[39] This expedition involved
one-third of Washington's whole army.
General Clinton's force included about 1,800 men, bringing three months'
provisions and 220 boats from Schenectady up the Mohawk to Canajoharie,
where the brigade went into camp.
The twenty miles overland to Otsego Lake was traversed during the
latter part of June, 1779, the boats and stores being carried in wagons,
several hundred horses having been made ready for this purpose at
Canajoharie. Part of the brigade reached the lake by means of the
Continental road, of which traces still remain, leading to the shore
near the mouth of Shadow Brook in Hyde Bay.[40] Here they launched their
fleet of bateaux and floated down the lake to their landing at the
present site of Cooperstown. "This passage down the lake was made on a
lovely summer's day, and the surrounding hills being covered with living
green, every dash of the oar throwing up the clear, sparkling water, a
thousand delighted warblers greeting them from the shores as the
response of the martial music from the boats--the whole being so
entirely novel--the effect must have been truly enchanting and
picturesque."[41]
Apparently not all the regiments took the same route. Lieut. Erkuries
Beatty, of the Fourth Pennsylvania Regiment, says in his journal[42]
that "the regiment marched by Cherry Valley to the lower end of the
lake," while the baggage of the detachment went to the Springfield
landing, with a proper guard. From this point, himself being in the
party, "we put the baggage on board boats," he says, "and proceeded to
the lower end of the lake, and found the regiment there before us."
During the first week in July the entire brigade had become encamped at
the foot of the lake, to remain here, as it turned out, for a period of
five weeks. The present Cooper Grounds, where the Indians, long before,
had planted their apple trees, and where Colonel Croghan, in 1769, had
built his hut, now became the scene of a military encampment. Lieut.
Beatty's journal describes the location of the various regiments in Camp
Lake Otsego, as it was called. Croghan's house, which stood near the
site of the present Clark Estate office, was used as a magazine, and
around it was encamped a company of artillery, under Capt. Thomas
Machin. Here also the stores were gathered. On the right of the
artillery, facing the lake, the Fourth Pennsylvania Regiment was
encamped, while on the left were the tents of Colonel Peter Gansevoort's
Third New York Regiment. At the latter's rear, in the second line, was
the Fifth New York, under command of Col. Lewis Dubois; behind the
artillery camp lay Col. Alden's Sixth Massachusetts Regiment; and the
Fourth New York, under Lieut.-Col. Weissenfels, occupied the space at
the rear of the Fourth Pennsylvania. A few Oneida Indians came with Col.
Alden's regiment and encamped on the banks of the lake, where "they all
soon got drunk," says Beatty, "and made a terrible noise."
On the Fourth of July, which fell upon Sunday, the third anniversary of
the American Independence was celebrated at Camp Lake Otsego, General
Clinton "being pleased to order that all troops under his command
should draw a gill of rum per man, extraordinary, in memory of that
happy event." The troops assembled at three o'clock in the afternoon and
paraded on the bank at the south end of the lake. The brigade was drawn
up in one line along the shore, with the two pieces of artillery on the
right. The ceremony of the occasion is described by Lieut. van
Hovenburgh as a "fudie joy."[43] A salute of thirteen guns was fired by
the artillery, and three volleys from the muskets of the infantry, with
three cheers from all the troops after each fire. The troops were then
drawn up in a circle by columns on a little hill, and the Rev. John
Gano, a Baptist minister, chaplain of the brigade, preached from Exodus
xii, 14: "This day shall be unto you for a memorial ... throughout your
generations." After the dismissal of the troops, Col. Rignier, the
Adjutant General, gave an invitation to all the officers to come and
drink grog with him in the evening. "Accordingly," says Lieut. Beatty,
"a number of officers (almost all) assembled at a large Bowry which he
had prepared on the bank of the lake. We sat on the ground in a large
circle, and closed the day with a number of toasts suitable and a great
deal of mirth for two or three hours, and then returned to our tents."
The stay at Otsego Lake seems to have been for the most part a pleasant
experience. There was plenty to eat. A drove of fat cattle was brought
from the Mohawk valley for the use of the troops. The Sixth
Massachusetts improved upon the culinary equipment of camp life by the
construction of a huge oven. Lieut. McKendry writes enthusiastically of
the delicious apples and cucumbers gathered near the camp.[44] Col.
Rignier was a leader of fishing parties, and quantities of trout were
taken from the lake to be served sizzling hot from the coals to hungry
soldiers. There was much liquid refreshment, for the officers at least,
which came not from lake or river. On June 28th there had been a
luncheon of officers at Camp Liberty, Low's Mills (near Swanswick),
greatly enlivened by the toasts that were drunk, for General Clinton had
given to each officer a keg of rum containing two gallons. On July 7,
Lieut. Beatty records that "all the officers of the line met this
evening at the large Bower, and took a sociable drink of grog given by
Col. Gansevoort's officers." This sociable drink seems to have created
an appetite for more. Under date of July 8, the next day, this laconic
entry appears in the journal of Lieut. McKendry: "The officers drew each
one keg more of rum."
Had the journals of the officers been more confiding in their records,
an intimate view of the camp life might have been disclosed to
posterity. For example, judging from McKendry's journal alone, Sunday,
August 1, was decorously uneventful. He has this entry:
"August 1, Sunday--Mr. Gano delivered a sermon."
Lieut. Beatty also remembers the sermon, but frankly subordinates it to
other incidents of the day to which Lieut. McKendry was indifferent, or
thought best not to allude. Beatty has this comment:
"August 1, Sunday--To-day at 11 o'clock the officers of the brigade met
agreeable to general orders to learn the Salute with the Sword. The
General's curiosity led him out to see how they saluted.
"After they were dismissed the officers formed a circle round the
General and requested of him to give them a keg of rum to drink. We
little expected to have the favour granted us, but we happened to take
the General in one of his generous thoughts, which he is but seldom
possessed of, and instead of one he gave us six. We gratefully
acknowledged the favour with thanks, and immediately repaired to the
cool spring[45] where we drank two of our kegs with a great deal of
mirth and harmony, toasting the General frequently--and then returned to
our dinners. In the afternoon Parson Gano gave us a sermon."
On the next morning at 11 o'clock the officers again assembled at the
spring "to finish the remainder of our kegs," says Beatty, "which we did
with the sociability we had done the day before," and, he might have
added, with twice as much rum.
To the troops in general rum was measured out with a more sparing hand.
Their pleasures were of a simpler kind, and they seem to have contented
themselves with fishing in the lake, hunting and roaming through the
woods, inviting an occasional attack from stray Indians, which added the
zest of adventure to the routine of camp life. One Sunday afternoon some
soldiers found, concealed in a thicket of bushes and covered with bark,
near one of the pickets, "a very fine chest of carpenter's tools, and
some books, map, and number of papers. It is supposed," says Beatty,
"that it was the property of Croghan who formerly lived here, but is now
gone to the enemy. Therefore the chest is a lawful prize to the men that
found it."
The five weeks at the foot of Otsego Lake were not, however, passed in
idleness. The troops were drilled every day. Target practice for the
musketry is recorded by the journals of officers, and a brass
cannon-ball marked "J. C.," found more than a century later in the Glen
road, west of the village, suggests that the artillery was also engaged
in the perfecting of its marksmanship, which must have awakened strange
echoes amid the hills of Otsego.
There were two incidents of camp life that were long remembered among
Clinton's troops, the one a bit of comedy, the other a grim commonplace
of martial law. The latter related to the discipline of deserters, to
whom various degrees of punishment were meted out by court-martial. On
July 20 two deserters were brought into camp, and on the next day three
others. The more fortunate were sentenced to be whipped. Sergeant
Spears, of the Sixth Massachusetts, was tied to a tree, and the woods
resounded to the blows of the lash, until one hundred strokes had fallen
upon his naked back. Another soldier received five hundred lashes. Three
were sentenced to be shot--Jonathan Pierce, soldier in the Sixth
Massachusetts Regiment; Frederick Snyder, of the Fourth Pennsylvania;
Anthony Dunnavan, of the Third New York.
On July 28, at nine o'clock in the morning, the whole brigade was
ordered out on grand parade to witness the execution of the three men.
The condemned deserters were required to stand, with their backs to the
river, on the rise of land at the west side of the lake's outlet. The
troops were drawn up facing them. A firing squad made ready.
All stood motionless, expectant, silent. It was a day that blazed with
sunshine, intensely hot.[46] The air was breathless. Shore and sky were
reflected, as in a mirror, from the unruffled surface of the lake.
Meantime information had come to General Clinton that Dunnavan had
previously deserted from the British army to join the Americans, and
afterward had persuaded the two younger men to desert with him from the
American forces. Clinton, manifestly glad of an excuse for leniency,
pardoned Pierce and Snyder on the spot. Concerning Dunnavan he was
obdurate. "He is good for neither king nor country," exclaimed the
General; "Let him be shot."
A crash of musketry, with a puff of smoke, and Dunnavan dropped. The
troops marched back to camp. The deserter's body was buried in an
unmarked grave.[47]
The other incident relates to some negro troops who were included in the
brigade. That they might readily be distinguished the negroes wore wool
hats with the brim and lower half of the crown colored black--the
remainder being left drab, or the native color. A company or two of
these black soldiers were included in a part of the brigade that was one
day being drilled by Col. Rignier, the popular French officer, a large,
well-made, jovial fellow, who was acting as Adjutant General. One of the
negro soldiers, from inattention, failed to execute a command in proper
time.
"Halloo!" cried the colonel, "you black son of a--wid a wite face!--why
you no mind you beezness?"
This hasty exclamation in broken English so pleased the troops that a
general burst of laughter followed. Seeing the men mirthful at his
expense, the colonel good-humoredly gave the command to order arms.
"Now," said he, "laugh your pelly full all!"
The French colonel himself joined in the shout that followed, while
hill and dale echoed the boisterous merriment.[48]
Clinton's expedition is chiefly memorable in Cooperstown for the exploit
by which the heavily laden bateaux, when the brigade departed for the
south, were carried down the Susquehanna. The river was too shallow and
narrow, in the first reaches of its course, to offer easy passage for
the heavy boats, and for some distance the stream was clogged with
flood-wood and fallen trees. This difficulty was overcome by building a
dam at the outlet of Otsego Lake, raising its level to such a point
that, when the water was released, the more than two hundred bateaux
were readily guided down the swollen stream.
The preparation for this feat preceded the encampment of the brigade on
the shore of the lake. On June 21, before Clinton had left Canajoharie,
Colonel William Butler, who had marched his Fourth Pennsylvania Regiment
over from Cherry Valley to Springfield, "ordered a party of men to the
foot of the Lake to dam the same,[49] that the water might be raised to
carry the boats down the Susquehanna River; Captain Benjamin Warren, of
the Sixth Massachusetts Regiment, commanded the party.... The water in
the Lake was raised one foot." General Clinton says "at least two,"
while another account claims that the surface of the lake was raised as
much as three feet.
Another reference to this exploit is found in the journal of Lieut.
Beatty, who says, under date of June 22, "On the lower end of the lake
we found two companies of Col. Alden's (Sixth Mass.) Reg't, who had made
a dam across the neck that runs out of the lake, so as to raise the
water to carry the boats down the creek."
On Friday, August 6, the following conversation took place at a
conference between General Clinton and Chaplain Gano:[50]
"Chaplain," said the General, "you will have your last preaching service
here day after to-morrow."
"Ah indeed! Are we to march soon? Before another Sunday?"
"Yes, but I do not want the men to know it."
"Nor shall I tell them; but General, am I at liberty to preach from any
text I choose?"
"Certainly, Chaplain."
"And you will not, in any event, tax me with violation of confidence?"
"No! only stick to your Bible, and I'll give the official orders."
On the following Sunday, beneath the arches of their forest cathedral,
the brigade of nearly two thousand men was gathered for religious
service. Chaplain Gano chose the text of the sermon from Acts xx. 7:
"Ready to depart on the morrow."
Immediately on the conclusion of the religious service, before the
congregation had dispersed, "the general rose up," says the chaplain's
record, "and ordered each captain to appoint a certain number of men out
of his company to draw the boats from the lake and string them along the
Susquehanna below the dam, and load them, that they might be ready to
depart the next morning." At six o'clock in the evening the sluice-way
was broken up, and the water filled the river, which was almost dry the
day before.[51]
On Monday morning the start was made. Each of the boats was manned by
three men. The light infantry and rifle corps under Colonel Butler
formed an advance guard. The soldiers marched on either side of the
river. Another guard of infantry marched in the rear, and in the centre
of the land lines the horses and cattle were driven. "The first day,"
says McKendry, "the boats made thirty miles, and the troops marching
each side of the river made sixteen."
The freshet caused by the sudden release of the pent-up water swelled
the stream for a distance of more than a hundred miles. Campbell says
that as far south as Tioga the rise in the water was great enough to
flow back into the western branch, causing the Chemung River to reverse
its course. The _Gazetteer of New York_ said that the Indians upon the
banks of the Susquehanna, witnessing the extraordinary rise of the river
in midsummer, without any apparent cause, were struck with superstitious
dread, and in the very outset were disheartened at the apparent
interposition of the Great Spirit in favor of their foes. Stone observes
that the sudden swelling of the river, bearing upon its surge a flotilla
of more than two hundred vessels, through a region of primitive forests,
was a spectacle which might well appall the untutored inhabitants of the
region thus invaded.
Clinton's brigade joined General Sullivan's division at Tioga Point on
the 22nd of August. From this place the combined forces began a campaign
of ruthless destruction against the Indians of the Genesee country.
Stone says the Indians were hunted like wild beasts, their villages were
burned, their corn was destroyed, their fruit trees were cut down; till
neither house, nor field of corn, nor inhabitants remained in the whole
country. The power of the Iroquois was gone. Homeless in their own land,
the Indians marched to Niagara, where they passed the winter under the
protection of the English.[52]
The Sullivan expedition had accomplished its purpose, with the loss of
only forty men.
In 1788, in the digging of the cellar of William Cooper's first house,
which stood on Main Street at the present entrance of the Cooper
Grounds, a large iron cannon was discovered, said to have been buried by
Clinton's troops. For ten or twelve years after the settlement of the
place, this cannon, which came to be affectionately known as "the
Cricket," was the only piece of artillery used for the purposes of
salutes and merrymakings in the vicinity of Cooperstown. After about
fifty years of this service it burst in the cause of rejoicing on a
certain Fourth of July. At the time of its final disaster (for it had
met with many vicissitudes), it is said that there was no perceptible
difference in size between its touchhole and its muzzle.[53]
In 1898, a building which stood in the Cooper Grounds next east of the
Clark Estate office was removed, and in grading the land workmen found,
just beneath the surface, the stump of a locust tree about two feet in
diameter. This was about twenty-five feet east of the office building,
and about the same distance from Main Street. The stump was pulled out
by teams of horses, and beneath it, at a depth of about four feet from
the surface, some charred material was found, and a mass of what proved
to be, when cleansed of adhesions, American Army buttons of the
Revolutionary period. The find was made by Charles J. Tuttle, a
well-known mason and contractor of the village, and veteran of the Civil
War. The buttons were of different sizes and shapes, some plated in
silver, others in gold, while many were of brass. Within a short time
the news of the find had spread through the village, and a troop of
relic hunters gathered at the spot, but the hole had been filled up
without further investigation. At the time of Clinton's encampment, in
1779, there must have been a building whose cellar had been used as a
storeroom for military supplies. The charred material suggests that the
building was at some time burned. The locust stump tells of a tree that
sprang up amid the ruins, flourished, and died, within a hundred and
twenty years after the departure of Clinton's troops.
Fenimore Cooper, writing in 1838, said that traces of Clinton's dam were
still to be seen. The last of the logs that remained of the old dam were
removed on October 26, 1825, in connection with a curious local
celebration of the opening of the Erie Canal, which on that day was the
occasion of general rejoicing throughout the State of New York. Cannon,
placed a few miles apart, from Buffalo to Albany, and thence to Sandy
Hook, were proclaiming that Governor DeWitt Clinton, whose influence had
so large a share in this great enterprise, had entered the first canal
boat at Buffalo, and was on his way to New York. Since Governor Clinton
was the son of General James Clinton, under whose command the dam at the
outlet of Otsego Lake had been built, it seemed appropriate to the
inhabitants that Cooperstown should have a celebration of its own, and
could thus most auspiciously begin a project which some bold spirits
then had in mind, nothing less than the construction of a Susquehanna
Canal, to connect Cooperstown with the Erie Canal at the north, and with
the coal fields of Pennsylvania at the south.
On this occasion the villagers gathered in Christ Church for a religious
service and to hear an address delivered by Samuel Starkweather, after
which they marched in procession to the Red Lion Inn. Here a public
banquet was served, and "after the removal of the cloth," says the
contemporary account, "toasts were drunk under the discharge of cannon,
most of them being succeeded by hearty cheering and animated airs from
the band." The hopes which gave importance to this celebration are
expressed in two of the toasts proposed, one by Henry Phinney, "The
contemplated Susquehanna River Canal"; the other by Elisha Foote, "A
speedy union of the pure waters of Otsego Lake with the Erie Canal."
When the company had left the table the whole village marched to the
river, and assembled on the shore near the site of Clinton's dam. Boat
horns, (sometimes called canal horns) about six feet long, typical of
the "long ditch," were then common, and furnished blasts of martial
music amid the crowd. The multitude was mustered somewhat after the
order of a brigade. One company, consisting of over forty men with
wheelbarrows and shovels, known as "sappers, miners and excavators,"
commanded by Captain William Wilson, marched with their comrades boldly
to the scene of action. Lawrence McNamee, president of the day,
personating Governor Clinton, threw the first shovelful of dirt. When
the last remaining log of the old dam had been removed the procession
marched back to the village, while the air was "rent with the huzzas of
those who witnessed the first practical essay toward rendering the
waters of the Susquehanna navigable for the purposes of commerce," and
a nine-pounder upon the top of Mount Vision, at regular intervals, told
the hills and valleys around that Cooperstown was rejoicing.[54]
It is almost needless to say that the development of railway
transportation put an end to this project for a canal.
On September 2, 1901, another generation of people assembled near the
outlet of the lake to witness the unveiling of a marker placed by Otsego
Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution, Mrs. Isabella Scott
Ernst, regent, to indicate the site and to commemorate the fame of
Clinton's dam.[55] The crowd approached the bank of the Susquehanna by
descending from River Street, where an arch of bunting had been erected.
A large float anchored near the western bank was trimmed with flags,
bunting, and vines. Directly across the river, on the eastern point of
the outlet, the newly erected marker was concealed beneath the folds of
an American flag. While a band played "The Stars and Stripes Forever,"
the spectators who lined the shore saw approaching from beneath the
green foliage down the river a canoe paddled by a young man who wore the
gay dress and war-paint of a Mohawk brave. Seated with him in the canoe
were two little girls, attired in patriotic colors. The three in the
canoe were lineal descendants of Revolutionary stock. The young girls
were Jennie Ordelia Mason and Fannie May Converse, both descendants of
James Parshall, an orderly sergeant who was present at the building of
the dam in 1779. The Indian was impersonated by F. Hamilton McGown, a
descendant of John Parshall, private, a brother of James Parshall. The
canoe was paddled close to the eastern shore, and the three occupants
drew aside the flag which concealed the marker, amid the applause of the
spectators assembled on the banks. The trio in the canoe then drifted
back down the river, and were soon lost to view beyond the overhanging
branches.
[Illustration: SITE OF CLINTON'S DAM]
The marker is a large boulder placed a few feet from the eastern bank of
the river at the very outlet of the lake. Surmounting the rock is a
ten-inch siege mortar thirty inches in length and weighing 1971 pounds,
which did service at Fort Foote, Maryland, during the Civil War. On the
western side of the boulder is a bronze tablet marked by the insignia of
the Daughters of the American Revolution, and bearing this inscription:
HERE WAS BUILT A DAM THE SUMMER
OF 1779 BY THE SOLDIERS UNDER GEN.
CLINTON TO ENABLE THEM TO JOIN
THE FORCES OF GEN. SULLIVAN
AT TIOGA.
Four years after Clinton's troops had made their famous journey down the
Susquehanna, the site of Cooperstown was visited by the most
distinguished citizen and soldier in America. For in 1783, at the
conclusion of the war, George Washington, on an exploring expedition,
passed a few hours at the foot of Otsego Lake. In a letter to the
Marquis de Chastellux he says that he "traversed the country to the head
of the eastern branch of the Susquehannah, and viewed the lake Otsego,
and the portage between that lake and the Mohawk River at Canajoharie."
In the same letter he says, "I am anxiously desirous to quit the walks
of public life, and under my own vine and my own fig-tree to seek those
enjoyments, and that relaxation, which a mind that has been continually
on the stretch for more than eight years, stands so much need of."
Weary of war, and longing for some tranquil retreat from the cares of
his exalted station, as he looked upon the scene which has become
familiar to all lovers of Cooperstown--the peaceful lake, with verdant
hills surrounding, and the Sleeping Lion at the end of the vista--the
calm beauty of this view, rather than the splendid images of martial
triumph, was reflected in the soul of Washington.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 36: _The Old New York Frontier_, pp. 148, 161, 165.]
[Footnote 37: _The Old New York Frontier_, Chapters III and IV.]
[Footnote 38: _The Old New York Frontier_, p. 197.]
[Footnote 39: do., p. 257.]
[Footnote 40: _The Old New York Frontier_, p. 259.]
[Footnote 41: _History of Schoharie County_, Jeptha R. Simms, 298.]
[Footnote 42: _Sullivan's Indian Expedition_, Frederick Cook, p. 19.]
[Footnote 43: Journal of Lieut. Rudolphus van Hovenburgh, 4th New York
Reg't., _Sullivan's Indian Expedition_, p. 276.]
[Footnote 44: _Sullivan's Indian Expedition_, p. 201.]
[Footnote 45: There is a spring in the present grounds of Averell
cottage; another in the grounds of the O-te-sa-ga, and a third at the
foot of Nelson Avenue.]
[Footnote 46: Lieut. Beatty's journal.]
[Footnote 47: Lieut. McKendry's journal.]
[Footnote 48: _History of Schoharie County_, 299.]
[Footnote 49: Journal of Lieut. William McKendry, of the 6th Mass.
Reg't, of which he was Quartermaster.]
[Footnote 50: _Pathfinders of the Revolution_, William Elliott Griffis,
p. 95. _Sullivan's Indian Expedition_, p. 386.]
[Footnote 51: McKendry's journal.]
[Footnote 52: _The Old New York Frontier_, p. 283.]
[Footnote 53: _Chronicles of Cooperstown._]
[Footnote 54: _History of Cooperstown_, Livermore, p. 17. _The Freeman's
Journal_, Oct. 31, 1825.]
[Footnote 55: _Otsego Farmer_, Sept. 6, 1901.]
CHAPTER IV
THE BEGINNING OF THE SETTLEMENT
On an autumn day in the year 1785 a solitary horseman might have been
seen emerging from the forest near Otsego Lake. The old-fashioned
novelist who invented the "solitary horseman" as a means of introducing
a romance could not have found a better use for his favorite phrase than
to describe the approach of this visitor. For with his coming the
history of Cooperstown began. Following the trail from Cherry Valley,
the horseman came over the hill which rises toward the east from the
foot of Otsego Lake. Before descending into the vale, he dismounted and
climbed a sapling, in order to gain a glimpse beyond the dense screen of
intervening trees. From this elevation he looked down upon an enchanting
view of glimmering waters and wooded shores. While he gazed, a deer came
forth from the woods near Otsego Rock and slaked its thirst in the
liquid that flamed with the reflected red and gold of autumnal foliage.
The beauty of this first view always lingered in the heart of William
Cooper, and the hill from which he gained it he afterward called "the
Vision," in memory of his first impression. To this day the hill is
known as "Mount Vision."
In a letter written some years afterwards, William Cooper thus describes
his venture into this region:
In 1785 I visited the rough and hilly country of Otsego, where
there existed not an inhabitant, nor any trace of a road; I
was alone, three hundred miles from home, without bread, meat,
or food of any kind; fire and fishing tackle were my only
means of subsistence. I caught trout in the brook and roasted
them in the ashes. My horse fed on the grass that grew by the
edge of the waters. I laid me down to sleep in my watch coat,
nothing but the melancholy Wilderness around me. In this way I
explored the country, formed my plans of future settlement,
and meditated upon the spot where a place of trade or a
village should afterward be established.[56]
The Cooper family had settled in America in 1679, coming from
Buckingham, in England, and for a century made their home in Bucks
County, Pennsylvania. William Cooper was born in Byberry township,
Pennsylvania, December 2, 1754. He afterward became a resident of
Burlington, New Jersey, where he married Elizabeth Fenimore, daughter of
Richard Fenimore, whose family came from Oxfordshire, in England.
William Cooper was associated with Andrew Craig, also of Burlington, in
acquiring the title of the Otsego tract of land which Croghan had
mortgaged to William Franklin, son of Benjamin Franklin, and had lost
under foreclosures in 1773. In January, 1786, Cooper took possession of
that portion of the Croghan tract which has since been known as
Cooper's patent, under a deed given by the sheriff of Montgomery county,
which had been set off from Tryon county, and included the later Otsego.
The patent included 29,350 acres, and cost the new proprietors, to
obtain it, about fifty cents an acre. Cooper bought out his partner's
share in the tract, and soon became sole owner.
It is characteristic of Cooper's energy that he began the settlement of
his land in the midst of winter, and had many families resident upon it
before the snow had melted, in the spring of 1786. Deeds were given to
Israel Guild and several others, who, during the summer, established
themselves on spots that are now within the limits of the village of
Cooperstown. These places were originally intended as farms, the village
having been planned to extend from the lake in a narrow strip southward,
rather than across the valley, as its later growth actually determined.
Besides the blockhouse built by Croghan on a site included in the
present Cooper Grounds, a log house at this period stood near the corner
of Main and River streets, and was occupied by a Mrs. Johnson, a widow,
who, with her family, was among the first residents. Near her home she
constructed a frame house, the first to be erected in the place. It was
purchased by William Ellison, a surveyor, who, during the summer of
1786, removed it to a position near the outlet of the lake, on what are
now the grounds of Edgewater. The building was of good size, having two
stories, and was used as a tavern until it was pulled down in 1810,
when Edgewater was built. In June, 1786, John Miller came, and reaching
the bank of the river near the outlet on the east side, felled a large
pine across the stream to answer the purpose of a bridge. The stump of
this tree was for many years a relic within the grounds of Lakelands.
There was a small colony of settlers during this summer, and William
Cooper himself came once or twice in the course of the season; but none
passed the succeeding winter within the village plot except Israel
Guild, who had taken possession of the blockhouse, William Ellison at
his tavern, and Mrs. Johnson in her hut of logs.
In the spring of 1787 Cooper arrived, accompanied by his wife, who came,
however, only for a short visit. They reached the head of the lake in a
chaise, and descended to the foot in a canoe. Mrs. Cooper felt so much
alarm during this passage that she disliked returning in a boat, and the
chaise was brought to the foot of the lake, astride two canoes, for her
homeward journey. Mrs. Cooper's timidity occasioned the building of the
first real bridge across the Susquehanna, an improvement which had
already been contemplated as a public service. The road beyond the
bridge was so rude, and difficult to pass, that when the chaise left the
village men accompanied it with ropes, to prevent it from upsetting.
During the spring and summer of 1787 many settlers arrived, a good part
of them from Connecticut; and most of the land on the patent was taken
up. Several small log tenements were constructed on the site of the
village, and the permanent residents numbered about twenty souls.
Meantime Cooper had been extending his holdings in adjacent patents,
until he had the settlement of a large part of the present county more
or less subject to his control. In other parts of the State also he came
to own or control large areas of land, until, toward the end of his
life, he had "settled more acres than any man in America."
[Illustration: OTSEGO LAKE, FROM COOPERSTOWN]
Early in 1788, Cooper erected a house for his own residence. Aside from
the log huts it was the second dwelling erected in the place. It stood
on Main Street at the present entrance of the Cooper Grounds, looking
down Fair Street, and commanding a view of the full length of the lake.
The building was of two stories, with two wings. It is represented on
the original map of the village, where it is marked "Manor House." This
house was removed a short distance down the street in 1799, on the
completion of Otsego Hall, William Cooper's second residence in
Cooperstown, and was destroyed by fire in 1812.
In 1788 John Howard came, and established a tannery on the north side of
Lake Street west of Pioneer Street, near the waters of Willow Brook,
which there gurgles to the lake. Howard, who was distinguished as the
father of the first child born in the settlement, afterward became
captain of the local militia, and is commemorated as a hero in Christ
churchyard, where his epitaph recites that he was drowned, July 13,
1799:
"Striving another's life to save
He sunk beneath the swelling wave."
It was in the summer of 1788 that William Cooper made a definite plan
for the village. Three streets were laid out running south from the
lake, and six streets that crossed them at right angles. The street
along the margin of the lake was called Front Street (now Lake Street),
and the others parallel to it were numbered from Second (the present
Main Street) up to Sixth. Of the streets running south, that next to the
river was called Water Street (now River Street), and that at the
opposite side of the plot, West Street, which is the present Pioneer
Street. The parallel street between these two was divided by the Cooper
Grounds; the section near the lake was called Fair Street, while south
of the Cooper Grounds it was known as Main Street. This last never
gained the importance which its name seemed to demand, and is now known
as part of Fair Street. The map showing the original plan of the village
is dated September 26, 1788.
Aside from the Foot of the Lake, as the settlement was sometimes called,
it was known as Cooperton, and Cooperstown,[57] until 1791, when the
latter name came into general use, on the designation of this village as
the county seat of the newly created Otsego county.
The settlers upon Cooper's tract were mostly poor people, and it
happened that their first efforts were followed by a season of dearth.
In the winter of 1788-9, grain rose in Albany to a price before unknown.
The demand swept all the granaries of the Mohawk country, and a famine
aggravated the privations of the Otsego settlers. In the month of April,
Cooper arrived with several loads of provisions intended for his own use
and that of the laborers he had brought with him; but in a few days all
was gone, and there remained not one pound of salt meat, nor a single
biscuit. Many were reduced to such distress as to live upon the root of
wild leeks; some, more fortunate, lived upon milk, whilst others found
nourishment in a syrup made of maple sugar and water. The quantity of
leeks eaten by the people had such an effect upon their breath that they
could be smelled at many paces distant, and when they came together
there was an odor as from cattle that had been pastured in a field of
garlic. "Judge of my feelings at this epoch," wrote Cooper, "with two
hundred families about me, and not a morsel of bread."
"A singular event seemed sent by a good Providence to our relief,"
Cooper's letter continues; "it was reported to me that unusual shoals of
fish were seen moving in the clear waters of the Susquehanna. I went,
and was surprised to find that they were herrings. We made something
like a small net, by the interweaving of twigs, and by this rude and
simple contrivance we were able to take them in thousands. In less than
ten days each family had an ample supply, with plenty of salt. I also
obtained from the Legislature, then in session, seventeen hundred
bushels of corn."
Those who settled the first farms in the Otsego region had not the means
of clearing more than a small spot in the midst of thick and lofty
woods, so that their grain grew chiefly in the shade; their maize did
not ripen; their wheat was blasted; and for the grinding of what little
they gathered there was no mill within twenty miles, while few were
owners of horses. Some walked to the mill at Canajoharie, twenty-five
miles away, carrying their grist on their shoulders.
William Cooper, after coming to live here, realized that the situation
of the settlers was precarious. He brought a stock of goods to the new
settlement, and established a general store under Richard R. Smith, son
of the Richard Smith who had visited Croghan at Otsego Lake twenty years
before. Cooper also erected a storehouse, and filled it with large
quantities of grain purchased at distant places. He borrowed potash
kettles, which he brought here, and established potash works among the
inhabitants. He obtained on credit a large number of sugar kettles. By
these means he was able to exchange provisions and tools for the labor
of the settlers, giving them credit for their maple sugar and potash,
until in the first year he had collected in one mass forty-three
hogsheads of sugar, and three hundred barrels of pot and pearl ash,
worth about nine thousand dollars. These industries held the colonists
together.
Cooper collected the people at convenient seasons, and under his
leadership they constructed such roads and bridges as were then suited
to their purposes. Perhaps it was at this time that Cooper devised the
cunning method which he afterward confided to William Sampson: "A few
quarts of liquor, cheerfully bestowed, will open a road, or build a
bridge, which would cost, if done by contract, hundreds of dollars."
In 1789 Cooper set up at his newly finished Manor House a frontier
establishment that became famous for its hospitality. For a year before
bringing his family from Burlington he kept bachelor's hall, and the
festive joys of the place were long memorable among all lovers of good
cheer. Shipman, the Leather-Stocking of the region, could at almost any
time furnish the table with a saddle of venison; the lake abounded with
the most delicious fish; while the cellar of the Manor House was stored
with the imprisoned sunshine of distant lands.
At Christmastide, in 1789, a house-party entertained by William Cooper
celebrated the season with high revelry. Among the guests was Colonel
Hendrik Frey, the boniface of Canajoharie, a famous fun-lover and
merrymaker. A large lumber sleigh was fitted out, with four horses, and
the whole party sallied forth for a morning drive upon the frozen lake.
On the western bank of the lake resided, quite alone, a Frenchman known
as Monsieur Ebbal, a former officer of the army of France, whose real
title was said to be L'Abbe de Raffcourt.[58] Perceiving the sleigh and
four nearing his house, this gentleman, with the courtesy of his nation,
went forth upon the ice to greet the party in a manner befitting the
pomp of its approach. Cooper cordially invited the Frenchman to join
him, promising him plenty of game, with copious libations of Madeira, by
way of inducement. Though a good table companion in general, no
persuasion could prevail on M. Ebbal to accept this sudden invitation,
until, provoked by his obstinacy, the party laid violent hands on him,
and brought him to the village by force.
The unwilling guest took his captivity in good part, and was soon as
buoyant and gay as any of his companions. He habitually wore a
long-skirted surtout, or overcoat, which at that time was almost the
mark of a Frenchman, and this he pertinaciously refused to lay aside,
even when he took his seat at table. On the contrary, he kept it
buttoned to the very throat, as if in defiance of his captors. The
Christmas joke, a plentiful board, and heavy potations, however, threw
the guest off his guard. Warmed with wine and the blazing fire of logs,
he incautiously unbuttoned; when his delighted companions discovered
that the accidents of the frontier, the establishment of a bachelor who
kept no servant, and certain irregularities in washing days, together
with the sudden abduction of his person, had induced the gallant
Frenchman to come abroad without his shirt. He was uncased on the spot,
amid the shouts of the merrymakers, and incontinently put into linen.
"Cooper was so polite," added the mirth-loving Hendrik Frey, as he used
to tell the story for many years afterward, "that he supplied a shirt
with ruffles at the wristbands, which made Ebbal very happy for the rest
of the night. Mein Gott, how his hands did go, after he got the
ruffles!"[59]
In the summer of 1790 the house at the northwest corner of Main and
River streets was erected by Benjamin Griffin. It now survives as the
oldest house in the village. Not long after its erection the house
became the residence of the Rev. John Frederick Ernst, the Lutheran
minister who came here in connection with the work of the projected
seminary at Hartwick; and for many years the old cottage was the
homestead of the Ernst family.[60]
[Illustration: _C. A. Schneider_
THE OLDEST HOUSE]
In this year William Cooper decided to give up his residence in New
Jersey, and to bring his family to Cooperstown for their permanent home.
Accordingly he returned to Burlington, and early in the autumn completed
arrangements for the transportation of his family and belongings to
Otsego. Only in one quarter did he find any opposition to his project,
but that opposition was serious. His wife positively refused to go.
Three years before, Mrs. Cooper had had a brief experience of the new
settlement. She remembered the tippy boat, the rough pioneers, and the
carriage that had to be steadied with ropes as it careened through the
woods. In Burlington there was a well-established society, congenial
friends, an atmosphere of culture, and such comforts as civilization was
then able to afford. Mrs. Cooper had no mind to exchange her residence
in Burlington for the wild uncertainties of life in the wilderness; and
so with the conveyance ready and waiting at the door, and with her
husband pleading, she sat firmly in the chair at the desk in the library
of her Burlington home, and positively refused to budge.
Mrs. Cooper was a strong-minded woman, but William Cooper was a
stronger-minded man. He seized the chair, with his wife seated in it,
and putting her aboard the wagon, chair and all, began the long journey
to Otsego. Thus William Cooper carried his point, while his wife also
carried hers, for she travelled the whole distance in the chair from
which she vowed she would not move. The chair itself, sacred to the
memory of two strong minds, is still in use in the Cooper family.
This journey had much to do with the shaping of another mind which was
not at the time consulted or considered. For Mrs. Cooper brought with
her the baby boy of the household, thirteen months old, whose whole
life, because of this change of residence, was cast in a new mould. This
child was called James, but in later years he adopted also his mother's
family name, so that he honored both father and mother in the fame which
he gave to the name of James Fenimore Cooper. All his first impressions,
he said long afterward, were obtained in the Otsego region. It is to be
doubted whether Fenimore Cooper would have gained such wide celebrity as
a novelist if he had not discovered the unique field of romance which
the lake and hills of Otsego began to open to his vision. Had Fenimore
Cooper remained in Burlington he might have written good novels, but not
_The Leather-Stocking Tales_, for which he is most renowned. So that
when William Cooper took up his residence in Otsego, he not only became
the founder of a town, but he brought to the town the founder of
American romance.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 56: _A Guide in the Wilderness_, a series of letters to
William Sampson, published in Dublin, 1810, reprinted by James Fenimore
Cooper, grandson of the novelist, 1897.]
[Footnote 57: The names "Cooper" and "Cooperstown" are pronounced by the
Cooper family and by natives of the village with a short _oo_, as in the
word _book_, not as in _moon_.]
[Footnote 58: Ebbal is _L'Abbe_, spelled backward. His last years were
spent near New Berlin, beside a lonely waterfall, where he had a flower
garden, and kept bees. His grave was four miles south of New Berlin,
until relatives came and removed his remains to France.]
[Footnote 59: The account of this incident is quoted from Fenimore
Cooper's _Chronicles of Cooperstown_.]
[Footnote 60: In his _Chronicles of Cooperstown_, (1838), Fenimore
Cooper says, "The house standing at the southeast corner of Second and
Water streets, [now called Main and River street], and which for the
last forty years has belonged to the Ernst family, was erected this
summer [1790] by Mr. Benjamin Griffin. It is now the second oldest house
in the village." Cooper had already referred to the house of Israel
Guild, erected in 1788, as the oldest house standing in the village (in
1838). Guild's house was burned in the fire of 1862, and therefore the
house erected by Griffin has been, ever since that time, the oldest
house. By some inadvertence, Cooper incorrectly designated the location
of the Griffin house. He placed it at the southeast corner of Main and
River streets, when he meant to say _northwest_. That Cooper writing of
what was perfectly familiar to him, should have overlooked so palpable
an error, seems most improbable; yet that he did so is now beyond doubt,
although for many years his authority was cited to disprove the claims
of the oldest house in Cooperstown. At the time of Cooper's writing, the
house standing nearest to the southeast corner of Main and River
streets, afterward torn down, had been built by Richard Cooper, and
never had belonged to the Ernst family. Furthermore, in a letter dated
May 23, 1805, Rev. John Frederick Ernst, in reply to an inquiry
concerning the location of his property in Cooperstown, wrote to his
son--"Here is a copy from the deed: 'The house-lot--being the northwest
corner of Water Street and Second Street, is seventy-five feet front on
the said streets, and seventy-five feet in rear on the west and north by
[then] vacant lots, belonging [then both] to Wm. Cooper, Esq.'" It is
clear that this is the same property which Fenimore Cooper, by some
slip, described as being at the southeast corner. Some of the earlier
charts of Cooperstown were drawn with the lake front at the bottom of
the map, for convenience of reference, thus reversing the north and
south of the usual cartography. It may plausibly be conjectured that
Cooper had one of these maps before him as he wrote, and unthinkingly
recorded, in this instance, its transposed points of the compass. This
labored exposition of a small matter would be an inexcusable pedantry,
except that the location of the oldest house in the village is of
particular interest.]
CHAPTER V
A VILLAGE IN THE MAKING
The county of Otsego was formed February 16, 1791, being carved out of
Montgomery county. Cooperstown was designated as the county seat, and
William Cooper was appointed the first judge of the county court. A
court-house and jail was built at the southeast corner of Main and
Pioneer streets, the lower story, of logs, being used as a prison, and
the upper story, of framed work, as court room. A tavern was erected on
the same lot, and contained the jury rooms, conveniently near to the
sources of refreshment.
During the summer of this year the Red Lion Tavern[61] was erected at
the southwest corner of Main and Pioneer streets, and was kept by Major
Joseph Griffin. It projected more than half way across Main Street, and
at that time marked the western limit of the village. For more than
three score years and ten, even after the village grew westward beyond
it, this projecting building gave a unique character to the main street,
intercepted all thirsty wayfarers, and held an important place in the
life of the community. Its first crude sign, representing a red lion
rampant, was painted by Richard R. Smith,[62] the first storekeeper of
the village, and first sheriff of the county.
Judge Cooper was the lord of the manor, as it were, in the new
community, yet maintained a relation of comradeship with the settlers.
Enjoying the friendship of some of the most eminent men of his time,
himself superior in intelligence and culture to most of his local
contemporaries, Cooper had qualities that won the affection and loyalty
of the sturdy pioneers. It is characteristic of him that he once offered
a lot, consisting of one hundred and fifty acres of land, to any man on
the patent who could throw him in a wrestling match. The wrestling took
place in front of the Red Lion Inn. One contestant was finally
successful, and the land was duly conveyed to the victor. It is possible
that some of the lots owned by Judge Cooper were of no great value, for
it is related that when his eldest son was showing the sights of New
York to the youngster of the family he took him to a pasty shop, and
after watching the boy eat pasty after pasty said, "Jim, eat all you
want, but remember that each one costs the old man a lot."
[Illustration: WILLIAM COOPER
From the portrait by Gilbert Stuart]
Some idea of the position that the "old man" occupied in the village
which he founded may be gained from the novel that the eater of the
pasties afterward entitled _The Pioneers_. In this book, while
historical accuracy is disclaimed, Judge Temple is easily identified as
an idealized Judge Cooper, and a faithful picture of life in the early
village may be recognized; for, as the author says in his introduction,
while the incidents of the tale are purely fiction, "the literal facts
are chiefly connected with the natural and artificial objects, and the
customs of the inhabitants." The village of Templeton, in the novel, is
the Cooperstown of reality in its early days. The spirit of the times,
and the character of the men who lived here are thus distinctly
reflected in the placid current of Fenimore Cooper's first
Leather-Stocking tale. At the present day the personal appearance of
Judge Cooper himself is vividly recalled from the past through the
existence of three portraits, one by Gilbert Stuart, one by Copley, and
a third by an unknown artist. From these likenesses one gains an
impression of his kindly gray eye, firm countenance, and robust figure.
His keen sense of humor relieved the strain of many a hardship in the
life of the frontier, for he is remembered as "noble-looking,
warm-hearted, and witty, with a deep laugh, sweet voice, and fine rich
eye, as he used to lighten the way with his anecdotes and fun."
During the twenty-five years that followed the close of the
Revolutionary War, Judge Cooper was a speculator in lands on a large
scale, and was steadily engaged in the settlement of the tracts which he
owned and those in which he had a joint interest with others. His
judgment concerning land values was keen and far-sighted. That he was
not infallible is shown by his payment of ten dollars an acre for land
in the North Woods which is hardly worth a quarter of that price to-day.
On the other hand, in February, 1803, he bought the town of De Kalb, in
St. Lawrence county, about 64,000 acres, for the sum of $62,720, and
within three months had sold 56,886 acres for $112,226. It was for
successful ventures of this sort that Judge Cooper became widely known,
and was brought into correspondence with foreign investors, such as
Necker and Madame de Staël, who appear to have become owners of lands,
through Cooper, in the northern counties of New York.
Much of Cooper's success in the settlement of new lands was owing to his
system of selling to settlers on the installment plan, instead of
binding tenants to the payment of perpetual rent, as some proprietors of
great estates attempted to do, involving endless litigation and the
"anti-rent war."
Judge Cooper's friendly relation to the settlers extended, in many
instances, to the relief of individual needs by loans of money, which
was not always repaid. One of the French settlers, often a guest at
Judge Cooper's house, borrowed of him fifty dollars. As time went on
Judge Cooper noticed that his debtor's visits became less and less
frequent, until finally they ceased. Meeting the man one day, he
remonstrated with him, telling him that so small a matter should not
cause him annoyance, and urging him not to allow it to interfere with
his visits at the Cooper homestead. The Frenchman, however, felt that
the fifty dollars weighed heavily on his honor, and that he could not
partake of the Judge's hospitality until the debt was paid. Not long
afterward Judge Cooper saw his debtor approaching him with every
manifestation of joy, waving his hat, and shouting, "Judge Cooper! Judge
Cooper! My mother is dead! My mother is dead! I pay you the fifty
dollars."
Before the close of his career Judge Cooper had amassed a large fortune.
After having been engaged for twenty years in the improvement of lands
he declared that the work which he had undertaken for the sole purpose
of promoting his interest had become fastened upon him by habit, and
remained as the principal source of his pleasure and recreation. Within
this period the settlement which he began at Otsego Lake reached a high
degree of prosperity. "This was the first settlement I made," writes
Judge Cooper, "and the first attempted after the Revolution; it was, of
course, attended with the greatest difficulties; nevertheless, to its
success many others have owed their origin."
Judge Cooper's political career reflects another aspect of pioneer life
in the new settlements. Besides his election as first judge of the Court
of Common Pleas of Otsego county, an office which he held from 1791 to
1800, he was elected to Congress in 1795, and again in 1799. The _Otsego
Herald_ of June 23, 1796, describes the reception given by the people of
the village to Judge Cooper on his return from Congress. When it was
known that his carriage was nearing the village, a mounted escort went
forth to meet him on the road that skirted Mount Vision, and when the
procession crossed the bridge and entered the main street it passed
through "a double row of citizens" assembled to greet the congressman,
while "sixteen cannon" roared a welcome.
Judge Cooper was a prominent member of the Federalist party, and devoted
much of his time to its cause. He was on intimate terms with its
leaders, and in constant correspondence with many of them. Although the
franchise, at this period, was restricted by a property qualification,
and the voters were comparatively few, the interest in politics entered
largely into the life of all the inhabitants, and the political
enthusiasm was unlimited. The polls could be kept open five days, to
accommodate all who desired to vote, and as there was no secret ballot
the excitement during elections was constant and intense. Nearly every
elector seems to have been a politician, and the letters of the time are
full of politics and party animosity. The shout of battle still resounds
in the title of a little book published by Elihu Phinney in 1796: "The
Political Wars of Otsego: or, Downfall of Jacobinism and Despotism;
Being a Collection of Pieces, lately published in the _Otsego Herald_.
To which is added, an Address to the Citizens of the United States; and
extracts from Jack Tar's Journals, kept on board the ship Liberty,
containing a summary account of her Origin, Builders, Materials,
Use--and her Dangerous Voyage from the lowlands of Cape Monarchy to the
Port of Free Representative Government. By the author of the
Plough-Jogger."[63]
In the political correspondence of Judge Cooper and his contemporaries
there are frequent complaints of fraud, and of the influence and
prominence of foreigners, especially the Irish, with grave expressions
of fear for the future of the country and the stability of property. The
Federalists describe themselves as "friends of order," and refer to
their opponents as "anti-Christians," and "enemies of the country." One
of Judge Cooper's friends who had removed to Philadelphia writes: "We
are busy about electing a senator in the state legislature. The contest
is between B. R. M.----, a gentleman, and consequently a Federalist, and
a dirty stinking anti-federal Jew tavern-keeper called I. I----. But,
Judge, the friends to order here don't understand the business, they are
uniformly beaten, we used to order these things better at Cooperstown."
It is evident that Judge Cooper had gained some reputation for his skill
in electioneering in Otsego county. Philip Schuyler, writing to Judge
Cooper of the election of 1791, says: "I believe fasting and prayer to
be good, but if you had only fasted and prayed I am sure we should not
have had seven hundred votes from your country--report says that you was
very civil to the young and handsome of the sex, that you flattered the
old and ugly, and even embraced the toothless and decrepid, in order to
obtain votes. When will you write a treatise on electioneering? Whenever
you do, afford only a few copies to your friends."
Judge Cooper's chief political opponent in the county was Jedediah Peck,
who settled in Burlington, Otsego county, in 1790, a man of an entirely
different type from Judge Cooper, yet equally famous in the political
life of the times. Coarse and uneducated, Peck overcame all
disadvantages by his shrewdness, intellectual power, and great natural
ability. He gained much influence with the people of the county by his
homely skill as a traveling preacher, going about distributing tracts,
and preaching wherever he could gather an audience. He was an aggressive
supporter of the political views and administrative policies of Thomas
Jefferson, and violently antagonized the Federalists of the county, who
were under the leadership of Judge Cooper. This opposition culminated
during the administration of President Adams in 1798, when Peck was
arrested under the Alien and Sedition Act for circulating petitions
against that Act. He was indicted and taken to New York in irons, but
was never brought to trial, and upon the repeal of the Act was
discharged. Peck's arrest and imprisonment fastened attention upon him,
and, together with his continued denunciation of the federal
administration, made him the recognized leader of the Republican
(Jeffersonian) party of Otsego county, so that he dictated its policy
and nominations for many years thereafter. Indeed, the overthrow of the
Federal party in this State, with the consequent success of Jefferson in
the presidential canvass, is attributed to the excitement and
indignation aroused by the spectacle of this little dried up man,
one-eyed but kindly in expression and venerable, a veteran of the
Revolutionary War, being transported through the State in the custody of
federal officials, and manacled, the latter an unnecessary and
outrageous indignity.
Jedediah Peck was a member of Assembly from 1798 to 1804, and State
Senator until 1808. Although looked up to by multitudes as the political
leader of his time, Peck was noted at Albany for his shabbiness of
dress. He wore coarse boots, which he never blackened. On one occasion,
on the eve of an important debate, some wag at the tavern blackened one
of Peck's boots. Peck, in dressing for the fray, did not recognize the
shining boot, and having put on one began to search high and low for the
other. At last, enlightened by the laughter of his comrades, he drew on
the polished boot, and with his feet thus ill-matched strode into the
Assembly chamber, where he delivered one of his most powerful speeches.
For many years Jedediah Peck unsuccessfully urged a bill for the
abolition of imprisonment for debt, which was later adopted. His most
permanent and valuable contribution to the welfare of posterity was the
scheme for the common school system of the State, which he had long
advocated, and of which, as chairman of the five commissioners appointed
by the Governor in 1811, he became the author.[64]
Some of the asperities of political life in the early days of Otsego
county may be inferred from certain affidavits, printed copies of which,
such as were apparently used as campaign documents, were found among
Judge Cooper's papers, endorsed in his handwriting, "Oath how I whipped
Cochran." The Cochran referred to was a political opponent.
Jessie Hyde, of the town of Warren, being duly sworn, saith,
that on the sixteenth day of October in the year 1799, he this
deponent, did see James Cochran make an assault upon one
William Cooper in the public highway. That the said William
Cooper defended himself, and in the struggle Mr. Cochran, in a
submissive manner, requested of Judge Cooper to let him go.
_Jessie Hyde._
Sworn this sixteenth day of
October, 1799, before me
Richard Edwards, Master in Chancery
_Otsego County._ SS.
Personally appeared Stephen Ingalls, one of the constables of
the town of Otsego, and being duly sworn, deposeth and saith,
that he was present at the close of a bruising match between
James Cochran Esq., and William Cooper Esq., on or about the
sixteenth of October last, when the said James Cochran
confessed to the said William Cooper these words: "I
acknowledge you are too much of a buffer for me," at which
time it was understood, as this deponent conceives, that
Cochran was confessedly beaten.
_Stephen Ingalls._
Sworn before me this
sixth day of November, 1799,
Joshua Dewey, Justice of the Peace.
The same incident, viewed from another angle, appears in a letter
written by the Rev. John Frederick Ernst to his son in Albany, and dated
at Cooperstown, October 20, 1799.
"There is nothing of any particular news here, except that a
Mr. Cochran, late member of Congress, in whose place I. Cooper
is now elected, came here last week, and on one of the
court-days, with a great deal of brass had the impertinence to
assault our honorable Wm. Cooper in the street, & to give him
a Cowskinning--because, as it is reported, he should have told
lies about Cochran. As both fell a clinging & beating one
another Mr. Mason stepped between and parted them."
Still another account of the episode is given by Levi Beardsley. He says
that the trouble arose over Cochran's use of his fiddle during a
political campaign. Cochran stayed over night at Canandaigua, and when a
dance was got up, he obliged and amused the company by fiddling for
them. He beat Judge Cooper at the election for Congress, but whether
from the influence of music and dancing it is now too late to inquire.
However, it was alleged that Judge Cooper had either published or
remarked that Cochran had been through the district with his violin, and
had fiddled himself into office. This came to Cochran's ear and brought
him from Montgomery county to Cooperstown. He came on horseback, and
arrived while Judge Cooper was presiding as judge of the court of common
pleas. As Cooper issued from the court house, Cochran met him, and after
alluding to the election, informed the Judge that he had come from the
Mohawk to chastise him for the insult. When Cooper remarked that Cochran
could not be in earnest the latter replied by a cut with his cowskin.
Cooper then closed with his adversary, but Cochran being a large, strong
man they were pretty well matched for the scuffle. They were separated
by friends, and Cochran was afterward fined a small amount for breach
of the peace.[65]
At the early organization of the county there was considerable strife
between Cooperstown and Cherry Valley in regard to the location of
public buildings. It is said that Judge Cooper playfully remarked that
the court house should be placed in Cooperstown, the jail in Newtown
Martin (Middlefield), and the gallows in Cherry Valley.[66]
When Judge Cooper began holding court in Cooperstown in 1791 a number of
lawyers were attracted to the county seat, the first to take up
residence here being Abraham Ten Broeck of New Jersey, soon followed by
Jacob G. Fonda of Schenectady. Ten Broeck was the original of Van der
School, the parenthetical lawyer in _The Pioneers_, his compositions
having been remarkable for parentheses. A year later two others of the
legal profession were added to the village community, Joseph Strong, and
Moss Kent, brother of the celebrated Chancellor Kent. Dr. Nathaniel Gott
and Dr. Farnsworth coming at about the same time gave the villagers a
choice among three physicians, Dr. Thomas Fuller being the senior in
practice. The development of Cooperstown as a trading centre brought
Peter Ten Broeck and several other merchants here in 1791, followed
shortly afterward by Rensselaer Williams and Richard Williams of New
Jersey, whose collateral descendants are still identified with the
village.
The early shopkeepers of Cooperstown included some who had been engaged
in more distinguished callings. A merchant who excited the most lively
curiosity among the settlers was a Frenchman known as Mr. Le Quoy who
kept a small grocery store in the village, and seemed to be altogether
superior to such an occupation. After much speculation concerning his
past the village was set agog by an incident which accidentally brought
to light the story of his career. Among the early settlers in Otsego
county was a French gentleman named Louis de Villers, who, in 1793,
happened to be in Cooperstown at a time when a fellow countryman named
Renouard, who afterward settled in the county, had recently reached the
place. Renouard, who was a seaman, and an incessant user of tobacco,
found himself out of his favorite weed, and his first concern was to
inquire of de Villers where tobacco might be purchased in the village.
De Villers directed him to the shop kept by Le Quoy, saying that he
would help a compatriot by making his purchase there. In a few minutes
Renouard returned from the shop, pale and agitated.
"What is it? Are you unwell?" inquired de Villers.
"In the name of God," burst out Renouard, "who is the man that sold me
this tobacco?"
"Mr. Le Quoy, a countryman of ours."
"Yes, Mr. Le Quoy de Mersereau."
"I know nothing about the 'de Mersereau'; he calls himself Le Quoy. Do
you know anything of him?"
"When I went to Martinique to be port captain of St. Pierre," answered
Renouard, "this man was the civil governor of the island, and refused to
confirm my appointment."
Subsequent inquiry confirmed this story, Le Quoy explaining that the
influence of a lady stood in the way of Renouard's preferment. Le Quoy
had been driven from Martinique by the French Revolution, and his choice
of Cooperstown as a retreat came about through a friendly office which
he had performed, while governor of the island, in liberating one of the
ships of John Murray & Sons of New York. The act brought about an
exchange of civilities between the head of this firm and Le Quoy, so
that when the latter came to New York, desiring to invest in a country
store until his fortunes should revive, Murray referred him to his
friend Judge Cooper, under whose advice the Frenchman established
himself in Cooperstown. He at length made his peace with the new French
government, and, closing his grocery in Cooperstown, was ultimately
restored to his office as civil governor of Martinique.[67] He appears
as one of the characters in Fenimore Cooper's novel, _The Pioneers_.
The house on Lake Street known as Averell Cottage was erected in 1793,
the central part of it, with chimneys at each end, constituting the
original structure. It has ever since been in possession of lineal
descendants of the first owner, James Averell, Jr. James Averell settled
on the patent in 1787, and in 1792 exchanged his farm for John Howard's
tannery on Lake Street just west of Pioneer Street.
[Illustration: _C. A. Schneider_
AVERELL COTTAGE]
In 1794 a state road was laid out between Albany and Cooperstown. This
road came over Mount Vision and descended toward the village by a route
that may still be traced down the hillside from Prospect Rock.
Cooperstown was then first included in a post route, and a post office
was opened in the village, with Joseph Griffin as postmaster. The mail
arrived weekly for some years; it then came twice a week; then thrice.
The daily mail was not established until 1821.
The arrival of the mail was something of a ceremony in the early days of
Cooperstown. Toward evening the sound of the postman's horn was faintly
heard as he rounded the slopes of Mount Vision; the blasts grew louder
as he descended the hill and approached the village; then the thunder of
the four post-horses as they crossed the bridge was heard, and the
postman drew up with a flourish at the post office, where the villagers
had gathered to await the news of the outer world. _The Otsego Herald_
publishes a letter from an indignant citizen, complaining that the mails
were opened in a bar-room. Since the first postmaster was also a tavern
keeper, the charge was probably true.
Among the new houses built in 1796 was one that has survived to the
present time, and stands on Main Street adjoining the Second National
Bank on the east. This house, distinguished for the quaint beauty of its
doorway, was first occupied by Rensselaer and Richard Williams. At about
this time the Academy was erected on the hill at the corner of Pioneer
and Church streets, where the Universalist church now stands. It was
"65-1/2 feet long, 32 wide, and 25 feet posts," while the summit of its
belfry was seventy feet high. It was erected by public subscription, at
a cost of about $1,450. "It was one of those tasteless buildings that
afflict all new countries," says Fenimore Cooper, "and contained two
school rooms below, a passage and the stairs; while the upper story was
in a single room."
The first school in the village had been opened a year or two earlier by
Joshua Dewey, a graduate of Yale, who taught Fenimore Cooper his A B
C's. He was succeeded as village schoolmaster by Oliver Cory. The latter
assumed charge of the new Academy. The school exhibitions of this
institution in which Brutus and Cassius figured in hats of the cut of
1776, blue coats faced with red, of no cut at all, and matross swords,
were long afterward the subject of mirth in the village. Fenimore
Cooper, at one time a pupil in the Academy, took part in a school
exhibition, and at the age of eight years became the pride of Master
Cory for his moving recitation of the "Beggar's Petition"--acting the
part of an old man wrapped in a faded cloak and leaning on his staff.
A reminiscence of old Academy days is connected with the first
considerable musical instrument in the village. Judge Cooper had brought
from Philadelphia a large mechanical organ of imposing appearance, which
he placed in the hall of the Manor House. When the organ was first put
up and adjusted a rehearsal of country dances, reels, and more serious
music, was enjoyed not only by the family gathered to hear it, but the
loud tones floated from the windows and into the school room of the
Academy in the next street. As the strains of _Hail Columbia_ poured
into the school room, Master Cory skillfully met a moment of open
rebellion with these words: "Boys, that organ is a remarkable
instrument. You never heard the like of it before. I give you half an
hour's intermission. Go into the street and listen to the music."[68]
The Academy, containing at that time the largest room in the village,
was as much used for other purposes as for those of education. The
court, on great occasions, was sometimes held here. It was used
impartially for religious meetings and for balls. The Free Masons of the
village, who had secured a charter for Otsego Lodge in 1795, held a
religious service, followed by dinner, and a ball, in the Academy, on
the Feast of St. John the Evangelist, December 27, 1796. Of this
occasion Jacob Morris writes, "The brilliancy exhibited at Cooperstown
last Tuesday--the Masonic festival--was the admiration and astonishment
of all beholders. Upwards of eighty people sat down to one table--some
very excellent toasts were drunk and the greatest decency and decorum
was observed.... In the evening we had a splendid ball, sixty couple,
thirty in a set, both sets on the floor at the same time, pleasant
manners and good dancing."
A centre of convivial resort at this period was the Blue Anchor tavern,
which was established as a rival of the Red Lion inn, and diagonally
across the way from it, at the northeast corner of Main and Pioneer
streets. The Blue Anchor, according to Fenimore Cooper, was for many
years in much request "among all the genteeler portion of the
travelers." Its host was William Cook, from whom the character of Ben
Pump, in _The Pioneers_, was drawn, a man of singular humors, great
heartiness of character, and perfect integrity. He had been the steward
of an English East-Indianman, and enjoyed an enviable reputation in the
village for his skill in mixing punch and flip. On holidays, a stranger
would have been apt to mistake him for one of the magnates of the land,
as he invariably appeared in a drab coat of the style of 1776 with
buttons as large as dollars, breeches, striped stockings, buckles that
covered half his foot, and a cocked hat large enough to extinguish him.
The landlord of the Blue Anchor was a general favorite; his laugh and
his pious oaths became famous.
In 1796 Judge Cooper commenced the construction of his new residence,
Otsego Hall, which he completed and began to occupy, in June, 1799. The
new house stood near the centre of what are now known as the Cooper
Grounds, on the site marked by the statue of the Indian Hunter. Otsego
Hall was for many years the largest private residence in the newer parts
of the State, and remained as the finest building in the village until
it was destroyed by fire in 1852. It is said to have been originally of
the exact proportions of the van Rensselaer Manor House at Albany, where
Judge Cooper was a frequent visitor.
On one occasion, in early days, when Judge Cooper was away from home,
fire broke out in the Hall, and an alarm given by the neighbors brought
the volunteer fire department to the scene. Mrs. Cooper firmly took
charge of the situation. Locking the doors of the house she called out
to the servants, "You look out for the fire, and I'll attend to the fire
department!" With this she poured hot water from a second-story window
upon the firemen, and quickly drove them away.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 61: "The Bold Dragoon" of Fenimore Cooper's novel, _The
Pioneers_.]
[Footnote 62: The original of Richard Jones, in _The Pioneers_.]
[Footnote 63: Plough-Jogger was the pseudonym of Jedediah Peck.]
[Footnote 64: _Address at Cooperstown Centennial_, Walter H. Bunn.]
[Footnote 65: _Reminiscences_, Levi Beardsley, p. 89.]
[Footnote 66: Beardsley's _Reminiscences_.]
[Footnote 67: _Chronicles of Cooperstown_.]
[Footnote 68: _James Fenimore Cooper_, Mary E. Phillips, p. 26. The
organ is now at Fynmere.]
CHAPTER VI
OLD-TIME LOVE AND RELIGION
Enough has been recorded to show the general character of Cooperstown as
it existed at the close of the eighteenth century. A more intimate view
of its life at this period is suggested by a package of faded letters,
some of which are here printed, not as supplying historical data, for in
this they are quite lacking, but because whoever reads them with
imagination begins to breathe the atmosphere of the time of their
writing, and in the charm of their feminine confidences discovers a side
of frontier life that is not otherwise revealed.
The letters were written to Chloe Fuller, who visited in Cooperstown for
some years at the home of Dr. Thomas Fuller. The doctor's wife before
her marriage, although not related to him, had the same family name, and
Chloe Fuller was her younger sister. Chloe Fuller became celebrated as a
village belle, and it was said that she had more beaus in constant
attendance than any other girl in Otsego. Dr. Fuller was a favorite with
two generations of young men in the village, for he had also two young
daughters, who, a few years later, became noted for their qualities of
mind and daintiness of apparel. Eliza and Emma Fuller were
blue-stockings who knew the value of pretty bonnets and gowns. In the
early days of the Presbyterian church, the sabbath splendor of their
entrance at divine service, always a little late, and with the necessity
of being ushered to the very front pew, divided the devotion of the
worshippers. Eliza Fuller became the wife of Judge Morehouse, and
established the traditional hospitality of Woodside Hall.
[Illustration: _Forrest D. Coleman_
THE WORTHINGTON HOMESTEAD]
Chloe Fuller married Trumbull Dorrance, a descendant of Governor
Jonathan Trumbull of Connecticut, and her daughter, becoming the wife
of John R. Worthington, was long identified with Cooperstown as mistress
of the White House, the Worthington homestead built in 1802 on Main
street. The letters belong to the period of Chloe Fuller's girlhood:
ELIZA MACDONALD TO CHLOE FULLER.
Albany, November 20th, 1798.
Believe me, my very dear Friend, that your letter by Mr.
Williams afforded me great pleasure in the perusal, and it
should most undoubtedly have been answered 'ere now had not I
been deprived of opportunities; and at all events I must write
by the _good Man_! I think the epithet you bestowed a very
judicious one--but I really believe, Chloe, you have made a
conquest there--when he delivered me your letter, 'It is from
Miss Chloe,' said he with a (methought) significant smile.
I have been well ever since my departure. Now and then the
involuntary sigh escapes when my imagination presents me
Cooperstown, and some of its dear inhabitants! I already long
to see you all. Oh! for an hour with your sister and you.
My dear Chloe, convince me that I am sometimes present to your
memory by writing long and frequent letters. Don't wait for
answers. Write whenever you find a conveyance; and I shall
with pleasure follow your example.
'Tis past one o'clock. Let my writing at this late, or rather,
early hour convince you that I wish to cultivate a
correspondence with you. I must quit. So Good night, my
friend. May Jove grant you pleasant dreams, and may Heavenly
blessings enliven your waking hours is the wish of your
sincerely affectionate Friend.
ELIZA.
ELIZA MACDONALD TO CHLOE FULLER.
Albany, Novbr. 28th. 1798
Just before we sat down to Tea, Mr. French called and brought
your letter. I immediately recognized the already well-known
hand of my fondly remembered Friend. I was all impatience to
open it, which out of politeness I dispensed with till his
departure.
I was highly gratified with the perusal! Happy, my Chloe,
should I esteem myself were it in my power to 'revive your
drooping spirits'. But why, my dear Friend, are they drooping?
What is the cause? Believe me, nothing but my friendship for
you induces me to interrogate you so; and let me beg you in
the name of friendship to answer me candidly. You may, my dear
Friend, unbosom yourself to me. I shall sympathize with you
and make your griefs mine. I wish you would write fully, and
long letters. This time I will excuse you, but let me beg of
you not to wait till an opportunity is going--but when you
retire to your chamber think of Eliza, and dedicate a few
moments to writing, since we can no longer chat together.
I am happy to hear you have found so agreeable an acquaintance
as Miss Cooper. I doubt not but that I should like her. So you
were a sleighing with the Doctor? Remember there are two
Doctors in Cooperstown, and you leave me to conjecture which!
You would make me believe Mr. K.---- sometimes talks of me. I
fear it is only when you remind him that there is such a
person in existence.
Mr. Ten Broeck spent the evening with us. He brought me a
letter from my Father. By his conversation I understand Mr.
K.---- will not be in Albany this year!
The clock has already struck one; my eyes feel quite heavy; my
writing will evince this. My best respects to the Miss
Williams. I hope you are intimate with them. They are fine
women! A close intimacy with them will convince you of this.
Tell Mrs. Morgan, Delia, and all those whom love will make me
remember, that I very frequently think of them. Good night!
Pleasant dreams to you! I will endeavor to dream of you and
some others in Cooperstown who are dear to the heart of
Your unfeigned Friend, ELIZA.
'Oh Night more pleasing than the fairest day:
'When Fancy gives, what Absence takes away!'
P. S. I have sent all over the City, but cannot procure any
ingrained silks of the color you intended to work your shawl.
Should you fancy any other, let me know, and I will with
pleasure send it. Accept of this ribbon for the sake of Eliza,
who wishes oft she was with you.
ELIZA MACDONALD TO CHLOE FULLER.
Friday night, December 28th, 1798.
My dear Chloe,
Mr. Williams delivered me your short yet pleasing letter.... I
hope you passed Christmas agreeably.... I can assure you I
did, being favored with the company of Mr. K. and his sister.
I regret that her stay in town is so short. Ever since her
arrival my time has been so occupied that my moments for
writing were few. Tis now late--they leave early in the
morning--so you must accept a few lines this time. I have sent
my little namesake a New Year's frock, which I beg your sister
will let her accept of. The ribbon I before mentioned
accompanies this. Good night--and Happy New Year to you all.
Write soon, and a long letter. Remember me to my friends, and
think of
Yours affectionately and in great haste, ELIZA.
ELIZA MACDONALD TO CHLOE FULLER.
Albany, February 10, 1799.
Why, my dear Chloe, do you preserve this long silence? To
forgetfulness of me, or want of affection I dare not impute
it, for even the most distant idea of this is too painful. No,
I will judge more favorably of my lovely Friend, and think
want of time has been hitherto the cause. Yet let me urge you
not to continue this painful silence, but think of, and write
to your absent friend. Cooperstown and its inhabitants will
ever afford a pleasing subject to Eliza. Tell me how you spend
your time, your most intimate companions, whether you often
see my father, and if any of my friends ever talk of me....
All our family is now in bed, yet cannot I let Mr. Strong go
without writing a few lines. I wish you felt as anxious to
write me.
Does your Hat please you? I am almost afraid it will not, tho'
I know I have used my utmost endeavors. If it does not, you
must take the _Will_ for the _Deed_.
My best love to your dear Sister. Kiss my little namesake for
me. Remember me to all enquiring friends, and think of me as
ever
Your truly affectionate
ELIZA.
Mr. Kent is still at Poughkeepsie; it I fear has more powerful
attractions than Albany.
HANNAH COOPER TO CHLOE FULLER.
My dear Chloe--Your sister informs me--she sets out to-morrow
upon her visit to you. I profit by her going to write a few
lines to you. I have nothing very material to
communicate--except that I often think of you--and continue to
love you--which I hope you did not doubt--before I mentioned
it.
We jog along much after the old way here--you know there are
but three articles of news worth
mentioning--Births--Deaths--and Marriages--for this last you
know we were never renowned--from the second, thank Heaven, we
are in a great measure exempted, and atone by the multitude of
our first--for the deficiency of both.
We have some hopes of seeing you this Winter--either with your
sister or by another mode--which I hope may be better--A
certain Person--who occasionally visited Coopers Town--has not
been here lately--it consoles me, though, that whilst his back
is turned upon us--he is looking the right way. Come then, my
child, and be induced by his looks, or smiles, or attentions,
to make us another visit--We will meet you with smiles and
pleasure--Mama desires to be remembered to your Mother. The
Boys send their love to Norvey--and I--my dear Chloe--beg to
be thought of--by you--with affection--and that you will
accept of much love from
HANNAH COOPER.
Coopers Town, January 5th, 1800.
ELIZA MACDONALD TO CHLOE FULLER.
Cooperstown, August 4th. 1801.
My beloved Chloe,
Again I date my letter from this place in which I formed for
you that friendship which neither revolving time, change of
place or circumstances has been able to alter. Would that I
had you as personally at my side as your dear image is
constantly present to my imagination. Perhaps now that I am on
the verge of departure it is happier for me that you are more
remote, as parting with you would prove an additional pang to
that which I now feel at the thought of leaving my respected
friend, your dear, dear Sister. I have been here three weeks
yesterday, and expect in a few minutes more to take my exit.
You will say, perhaps, my stay is short compared to my former
ones. It is so, but, Chloe, ah! how fast our friends decrease!
Our mutual friend, our pious pattern!--Miss Cooper--is here no
more! narrow is the cell in which her lovely form is laid! but
her mind, her soul, I trust is gone to a soil more kind, more
congenial, to a Friend in whom while here its best affections
and confidences appear'd to be placed! In every place in which
I used to meet with her--in her Father's Hall, which she
highly graced--the vacant chair, the trifling conversation, my
own absence of mind tell me, death has robbed me of a treasure
that empires cannot give! Reflection, however, and daily
experience, not only inspire me with resignation to the Wise
Ruler of all events, but fill me with gratitude that God in
compassion has removed her from a scene of afflictions, from
new trials, from growing evils, which a tender sensibility
like hers too keenly felt long to survive.
Richard, you may have heard, has married one of Col. Cary's
Daughters--Nancy--a young, giddy Girl. I fear she will never
supply the place of a Daughter to Mrs. Cooper! I have hardly a
fonder desire for you or for myself than that we might be and
live like her, whose memory, I trust, we shall ever
cherish....
But, Chloe, a word or two about yourself. Are not you almost
married? You are so far away there is no such thing as hearing
about it. Miss Betsy Williams is well & speaks of you with
affection. Nancy at present is in Trenton. Do let me hear from
you soon. I must go. Burn this scrawl. Kiss little Mary for
me. Adieu. May God bless you and your truly affectionate
friend
ELIZA MACDONALD.
Hannah Cooper was Judge Cooper's eldest daughter, of whom Fenimore
Cooper afterward wrote that she "was perhaps as extensively and
favorably known in the middle states as any female of her years." In
1795, when she was seventeen years of age, Talleyrand was a guest at
Otsego Hall, and the following acrostic on Hannah Cooper's name is
attributed to the pen of the celebrated diplomat:
Aimable philosophe au printemps de son âge,
Ni les temps, ni les lieus n'altèrent son esprit;
Ne cèdent qu' à ses goûts simples et sans étalage,
Au milieu des deserts, elle lit, pense, écrit.
Cultivez, belle Anna, votre goût pour l'étude;
On ne saurait ici mieux employer son temps;
Otsego n'est pas gai--mais, tout est habitude;
Paris vous déplairait fort au premier moment;
Et qui jouit de soi dans une solitude,
Rentrant au monde, est sûr d'en faire l'ornement.
Hannah Cooper afterward attended school in New York City, and passed the
winter of 1799 in Philadelphia while her father was a member of
Congress. Also a member of that Congress was William Henry Harrison,
later the hero of Tippecanoe, and afterward President of the United
States. In this connection Fenimore Cooper, just before Harrison's
inauguration as President, uncovered a long forgotten bit of romance
which he related confidentially in a letter to his old mess-mate
Commodore Shubrick as a "great political discovery." "Miss Anne Cooper
was lately in Philadelphia,"--the letter is dated February 28,
1841,--"where she met Mr. Thomas Biddle, who asked if our family were
not Harrison men. The reason of so singular a question was asked, and
Mr. Biddle answered that in 1799 Mr. Harrison was dying with love for
Miss Cooper, that he (Mr. Biddle) was his confidant, and that he
_thinks_ but does not _know_ that he was refused. If not refused it was
because he was not encouraged to propose.... Don't let this go any
further, however. I confess to think all the better of the General for
this discovery, for it shows that he had forty years ago both taste and
judgment in a matter in which men so often fail."[69]
In the twenty-third year of her age, Hannah Cooper was killed by a fall
from a horse, September 10, 1800. She and her brother, Richard Fenimore
Cooper, had set out on horseback to pay a visit at the home of General
Jacob Morris at Butternuts (now Morris), some twenty miles from
Cooperstown, and having arrived within about a mile of their
destination, the horse on which Miss Cooper rode took fright at a little
dog, which rushed forth barking from a farm house, and Miss Cooper was
thrown against the root of a tree, being almost instantly killed. Her
brother rode back to Cooperstown with the sad news.
A monument still stands near the public highway to mark the spot where
Miss Cooper met her death. She had many admirers, but the inscription on
this monument is said to have been written by her best beloved, Moss
Kent, referred to in Eliza MacDonald's letters.
Hannah Cooper's tomb in Christ churchyard, within the Cooper family
plot, is inscribed with some plaintive verses that her father composed
and caused to be carved upon the slab, with the singular omission of her
name, which was not added until many years afterward.
Miss Cooper was a perfect type of the kind of feminine piety most
admired in her day. She shared largely in the benevolences of her
father, and was often seen on horseback carrying provisions to the poor
people of the settlement. "She visited the prisoners in the jail
frequently, giving them books, and sometimes talked with them through
the grates of their windows, endeavoring to impress upon their minds the
truths of morality and religion. By her winning, tender and persuasive
conversation, their hard hearts, at times, were deeply affected."
This elder sister of the novelist was the first tutor of his childhood,
and he held her memory in great reverence. In the preface of a reprint
of _The Pioneers_ Cooper took occasion to deny a statement that in the
character of the heroine of his romance he had delineated his sister, a
suggestion in which he seemed to find a serious reflection upon his
fineness of feeling. "Circumstances rendered this sister singularly dear
to the author," he wrote. "After a lapse of half a century, he is
writing this paragraph with a pain that would induce him to cancel it,
were it not still more painful to have it believed that one whom he
regarded with a reverence that surpassed the love of a brother, was
converted by him into the heroine of a work of fiction."
Although Hannah Cooper was thus excluded, by her brother's delicacy,
from the place which rumor had assigned to her among the characters of
his first Leather-Stocking tale, her name is commemorated in the actual
scene of the story, for the pine-clad summit which overlooks the village
of Cooperstown from the west is still called in her honor, "Hannah's
Hill."
The position of the grave that lies next south of Hannah Cooper's tomb
in Christ churchyard is a tribute to the reverent affection which she
inspired. It is the grave of Colonel Richard Cary, one of General
Washington's aides, and his burial in a plot otherwise exclusively
reserved for interments of the Cooper family is attributed by tradition
to Colonel Cary's fervent admiration for the piety of Hannah Cooper.
Colonel Cary at the close of the Revolutionary War settled in
Springfield, at the head of Otsego Lake. Often a visitor in Cooperstown
he became acquainted with Miss Cooper, and was inspired by a devotion to
her character entirely becoming in a man old enough to be her father,
and already blessed with a family of his own. He is described as "an
upright, well-bred and agreeable gentleman, possessed of wit and genius,
and good humor." Six years after Hannah Cooper's death Colonel Cary
suffered severe reverses of fortune, and was "put on the limits," as the
penalty of unpaid debt was then described, being an exile from his home
in Springfield, and required to remain within the village bounds of
Cooperstown. As winter drew on Colonel Cary died. His dying request was
that he might be buried near Miss Cooper's grave, "for," he said,
"nobody can more surely get to Heaven than by clinging to the skirts of
Hannah Cooper!"
At Hannah Cooper's funeral a singularly noble and picturesque character
was brought into the history of Cooperstown, for the officiating
clergyman was Father Nash, who then for the first time held service in
the village, and afterward became the first rector of Christ Church,
being for forty years the most noted apostle of religion in Otsego
county.
During the first ten years of the existence of the village, the people
depended on rare visits of missionaries for the little religious
instruction they received. The settlers in the region were divided as to
religious faith; the Presbyterians, though the most numerous, were the
least able to offer financial support for any regular religious
establishment. Missionaries occasionally penetrated to this spot, and
now and then a travelling Baptist, or a Methodist, preached in a tavern,
schoolhouse or barn. On August 28, 1795, a letter appeared in the
_Otsego Herald_ deploring the general indifference to religion which
prevailed in the settlement, and calling for a public meeting to
organize a church congregation. The Rev. Elisha Mosely, a Presbyterian
minister, was thereupon engaged for six months, and during that period
held the first regular religious services in Cooperstown. He preached
the first Thanksgiving sermon in the village, on November 26, 1795, in
the Court House.
Through the vigorous efforts of the Rev. Nathaniel Stacy, an itinerant
preacher, the doctrine of Universalism gained a strong foothold in this
region. Under his ministrations the society at Fly Creek was organized
in 1805, said to be the first society of the Universalist denomination
established in this State. Stacy was a man of small stature, a rapid
speaker, full of Biblical quotations, apt in comparing the Old and New
Testaments, and happy in the use of vivid illustrations. The vehemence
and rapidity of his utterance sometimes sprinkled with saliva the
hearers seated near him, which gave occasion for a famous taunt flung at
Ambrose Clark, one of Stacy's converts and an early settler of
Pierstown, when his brother Abel said that "Ambrose had rather be spit
upon by Stacy than to hear the gospel preached."
In 1797, the Rev. Thomas Ellison, rector of St. Peter's Church, Albany,
with the Patroon, both regents of the university of the State, visited
the Cherry Valley academy, and then extended their journey to
Cooperstown, where Dr. Ellison held service and preached in the Court
House. This was the first time that the services of the Episcopal Church
were held in the village. Dr. Ellison was an Englishman, a graduate of
Oxford, a king's man, and a staunch defender of the Church against all
dissent. He was a sporting parson, of convivial habits, and after his
first visit to Cooperstown frequently enjoyed the hospitality of Judge
Cooper, whom he joined in sundry adventures.
The Presbyterians and Congregationalists in and about Cooperstown
formed themselves into a legal society on December 29, 1798. This church
was regularly organized with the Rev. Isaac Lewis, a Presbyterian
minister, as pastor, on October 1, 1800, and the Presbyterian
organization has ever since continuously existed in Cooperstown. The
Presbyterian church building was erected in 1805, and has not been
materially altered since 1835, when some changes in the structure were
made. The carpenters who built the church were twin brothers, Cyrus and
Cyrenus Clark. They were assisted by Edmund Pearsall, who was noted for
his rapid work and skill, as well as for his daring exploits at
"raisings." When the steeple of the church was raised Pearsall astounded
the village by standing on his head on the top of one of the posts near
the summit.
The pastor of this church for more than twenty years during its early
days was the Rev. John Smith, a tall, strongly-built man, who loomed
large in the pulpit as a champion of old-fashioned orthodoxy. His manner
of delivery was soporific, his voice thick and monotonous, but none
could gainsay the learning and intellectual power of his discourses.
Mony Groat was sexton of the church. He performed also the office of
policeman in the gallery during the service, going about with a cane,
and rapping the heads of disorderly boys. In winter his duties were
multiplied. The church was heated by a stove placed above the middle
alley, supported by a platform sustained upon four posts, and those
having pews near the pulpit had to walk directly underneath. Several
times during the service on cold days the sexton used to come up the
aisle with his ladder and basket of fuel, place his ladder in position,
mount the platform, replenish the fire, descend the ladder, and make his
exit, ladder and all.
Perhaps because it was the first church edifice in the village the
Presbyterian church came into use sometimes for celebrations of a civic
nature. The first Otsego County Fair, Tuesday, October 14, 1817, was
held in this house of worship. The Otsego County Agricultural Society
had been organized in January of that year, and the officers of the
first fair were: president, Jacob Morris; recording secretary, John H.
Prentiss; corresponding secretary, James Cooper, who had not yet begun
his literary career.
The exercises in the church followed an elaborate programme, including
prayers, vocal and instrumental music, and the formal award of premiums.
After the premiums had been awarded the corresponding secretary read a
letter from Governor Dewitt Clinton which accompanied a bag of wheat
that had been "raised by Gordon S. Mumford, Esq., on his farm on the
island of New York." While this letter was being read by James Cooper
the bag of wheat was brought to the pulpit of the church, and deposited
at the foot of it.
Within the Presbyterian burying ground, at the rear of the church, lie
the remains of some of the best known of the early settlers. A strange
perversity of fate, however, has singled out for the attention of the
tourist a tombstone that has no other claim to distinction than a
surprising feature of the epitaph. This tallish slab of marble stands
not far from the northeast corner of the burying ground. It is decorated
at the top with the conventionally chiseled outlines of urn and weeping
willow, and bears an inscription in memory of "Mrs. Susannah, the wife
of Mr. Peter Ensign, who died July 18, 1825, aged 54 years," and whose
praises are sung in some verses that begin with this astonishing
comment:
"Lord, she is thin!"
It seems that the stonecutter omitted a final "e" in the last word, and
tried in vain to squeeze it in above the line.
The permanent legal establishment of Christ Church was made on January
1, 1811, when a meeting was held "in the Brick church in Cooperstown,"
and it was resolved "that this church be known hereafter by the name and
title of Christ's Church."
The erection of the brick church had been commenced in 1807, and it was
consecrated in 1810. The present nave, exclusive of the transept and
chancel, is of the original structure. In the sacristy of the church a
wooden model may be seen, made by G. Pomeroy Keese, showing both
exterior and interior of the church as it existed in 1810.
The Methodists held occasional services in the village for many years,
and erected their first church, not far from the site of their present
building, in 1817.
The Universalists were organized in Cooperstown on April 26, 1831, with
the Rev. Job Potter as pastor. On the site of the old Academy, which had
been destroyed by fire, their house of worship was erected in 1833, and
stands practically unchanged at the present time. That there was a
somewhat strong rivalry between the Universalists and the Presbyterians,
whose places of worship stand so near to each other on the same street,
is suggested by an incident which occurred during the Rev. Job Potter's
pastorate. The Universalists had organized a Sunday School picnic, and
the children had gathered at the church in goodly numbers. The sidewalk
was thronged. A procession was formed, headed by the ice cream cans,
together with sundry huge baskets, all appetizingly displayed. Just as
the procession was about to move down the hill to embark for Three-Mile
Point, a small-sized Universalist, stirred by generous impulse, hailed
young Dick, a small-sized Presbyterian, who stood on the opposite side
of the street gazing with assumed stoicism on the fascinating pageant.
"Hello, Dick! Come up to our picnic. We're going to have ice cream and
cake and pies, and lots of good things."
To this cordial invitation Dick, thrusting his clenched fists deep into
his pockets, responded at the top of his voice:
"No, sir-ee! I believe in a hell!"[70]
As early as the beginning of the nineteenth century the Baptists were
accustomed to immerse their converts with appropriate services near
Council Rock. They organized on January 21, 1834, with the Rev. Lewis
Raymond as pastor. Their church building was erected during the next
year.
[Illustration: CHRIST CHURCH]
The Roman Catholic congregation was organized in September, 1847, with
the Rev. Father Kilbride as pastor. Their first church was built in
1851, at the corner of Elm and Susquehanna streets. The present St.
Mary's Church, the "Church of Our Lady of the Lake," was built in 1867.
Toward the middle of the century the three most conspicuous steeples in
the village scene were those of Christ Church, the Presbyterian, and
the Baptist. From the shape of their towers, which have since been
modified, they were known as the "Casters," and distinguished as salt,
pepper, and mustard respectively.[71]
The land for the Presbyterian church as well as for Christ Church was
given by Judge Cooper. Within Christ churchyard he reserved a space,
including his daughter's grave, as a family burial plot, where he
himself was buried in 1809, cut down in the full vigor of his fifty-five
years. While leaving a political meeting in Albany, as he was descending
the steps of the old state capitol, after a session abounding in stormy
debate, Judge Cooper was struck on the head with a walking stick by a
political opponent, and died as a result of the blow.
Judge Cooper was originally a Quaker, but that he afterward found
himself out of sympathy with the Society of Friends is shown in a formal
document by which his relations to that denomination were severed. He
was instrumental in the erection of Christ Church, for a letter written
by him shows that he conducted the negotiations with the corporation of
Trinity parish, New York, which, in 1806, gave $1,500 toward the
construction of the edifice. An obituary notice published in the
_Cooperstown Federalist_ at the time of his death says that Judge Cooper
"was thoroughly persuaded of the truth of Revelation."
The rood-screen in Christ Church commemorates Judge Cooper, and a
dignified sarcophagus covers his grave in the churchyard. Recalling the
story of his career, one is disposed to claim for his simple epitaph a
share of the attention bestowed upon the tomb of his more illustrious
son. For here lies the foremost pioneer of Cooperstown, notable among
the frontiersmen of America.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 69: _James Fenimore Cooper_, by Mary E. Phillips, p. 15.]
[Footnote 70: _Reminiscences_, Elihu Phinney, 1890.]
[Footnote 71: _A few Omitted Leaves in the History of Cooperstown_, G.
Pomeroy Keese, 1907.]
CHAPTER VII
HOMES AND GOSSIP OF OTHER DAYS
Early in the century activities were renewed, just across the river from
Cooperstown, in the development of what was known as the Bowers Patent,
originally owned by John R. Myer of New York, whose daughter became the
wife of Henry Bowers. For some years after their marriage Mr. and Mrs.
Bowers lived at Brighton, near Boston, in a residence that was one of
the finest relics of Colonial days, commanding a fine view of Boston,
Cambridge, Charleston, and the bay, with its numerous islands. They
afterward removed to New York City, and Henry Bowers made journeys
thence to the Otsego region, where a settlement had been commenced in
Middlefield, then called Newtown Martin,[72] some years before the
founding of Cooperstown.
In 1791, Henry Bowers surveyed and laid out a proposed village of
"Bowerstown," across the river from Cooperstown. It was to extend from
the Susquehanna to the base of the hill on the east, and from the lake
to a point about 1,000 feet south. The projected village never became a
reality, although the name is perpetuated by the present hamlet of
Bowerstown, which still flourishes about a mile to the south, on a site
that was once included in the Bowers Patent, where a saw-mill was
erected on Red Creek in 1791, the first in this part of the country. A
modern saw-mill now occupies the same site.
[Illustration: THE HOUSE AT LAKELANDS, as originally built]
The residences across the river are all in the town of Middlefield, but
the village of Cooperstown has extended its corporate limits to include
some of them, and virtually claims them all.
[Illustration: MRS. WILSON]
After the death of Henry Bowers, his son, John Myer Bowers, married in
1802 Margaretta Stewart Wilson. Young Bowers was said to be the
handsomest and most fascinating man in New York, and had inherited a
fortune which in that day was regarded as princely. Shortly after the
marriage he decided to make his residence on the Bowers Patent in
Otsego, and came hither with his bride in 1803, occupying a part of the
Ernst house at the northwest corner of Main and River streets, while the
present house at Lakelands was under construction. The building was
erected during 1804, and Mr. and Mrs. Bowers took possession in 1805.
Mrs. Bowers's mother, Mrs. Wilson, made her home with them, and lived at
Lakelands for a half a century. These two ladies contributed much to the
life of the community, and the younger generation was fascinated by
their vivid memories of the leading spirits of the Revolutionary War.
Mrs. Wilson occupies a niche of fame in _The Women of the American
Revolution_, by Elizabeth F. Ellet, who said of her that "her
reminiscences would form a most valuable contribution to the domestic
history of the Revolution." She was in Philadelphia on the day of the
Declaration of Independence, and made one of a party entertained at a
brilliant fête, given in honor of the event, on board the frigate
Washington, at anchor in the Delaware, by Captain Reid, the commander.
The magnificent brocade which she wore on this occasion, with its hooped
petticoat, flowing train, laces, gimp, and flowers, remained in her
wardrobe unaltered for many years. Mrs. Wilson was Martha Stewart,
daughter of Col. Charles Stewart of New Jersey, who was a member of
Washington's staff. At the age of seventeen she married Robert Wilson,
also closely associated with Washington, and in the midst of the war she
was left a widow. During the Revolution Mrs. Wilson was more favorably
situated for observation and knowledge of significant movements and
events than any other lady of her native state. Her father, at the head
of an important department under the commander-in-chief, became
familiarly acquainted with the principal officers of the army; and,
headquarters being most of the time within twenty or thirty miles of
her residence, she not only had constant communication in person and by
letter with him, but frequently entertained at her house many of his
military friends. General Washington himself, with whom she had been on
terms of friendship since 1775, visited her at different times at her
home in Hackettstown. Mrs. Washington also was several times the guest
of Mrs. Wilson, both at her own house and at that of her father at
Landsdown. Such was the liberality of Mrs. Wilson's patriotism that her
gates on the public road bore in conspicuous characters the inscription,
"Hospitality within to all American officers, and refreshment for their
soldiers," an invitation which, on the regular route of communication
between the northern and southern posts of the army, was often accepted.
The hospitality which Mrs. Wilson had the privilege of extending to
illustrious guests was returned by marked attentions to her daughter and
only child, on her entrance into society in Philadelphia during the
presidency of Washington. Mrs. Wilson was the object of much devotion on
her own account at the capital, where her appearance was thus described
by a lady of Philadelphia in a letter to a friend: "Mrs. Wilson looked
charmingly this evening in a Brunswick robe of striped muslin, trimmed
with spotted lawn; a beautiful handkerchief gracefully arranged at her
neck; her hair becomingly craped and thrown into curls under a very
elegant white bonnet, with green-leafed band, worn on one side." At the
same time the debutante daughter, Margaretta Wilson, became a favorite
with Mrs. Washington, who distinguished her with courtesies rarely shown
to persons of her age. A contemporary letter describes her appearance at
a drawing-room given by the President and Mrs. Washington: "Miss Wilson
looked beautifully last night. She was in full dress, yet in elegant
simplicity. She wore book muslin over white mantua, trimmed with broad
lace round the neck; half sleeves of the same, also trimmed with lace;
with white satin sash and slippers; her hair elegantly dressed in curls,
without flowers, feathers or jewelry. Mrs. Moylan told me she was the
handsomest person at the drawing room, and more admired than anyone
there."[73]
Such was the belle whom John Myer Bowers carried away as his bride to
the wilds of Otsego, where, shortly afterward, at Lakelands, her mother
also came to dwell. These two ladies, with their unusual experiences,
added a new flavor to the life of Cooperstown.
Eight children born to Mr. and Mrs. Bowers at Lakelands were girls. The
father's hopeful anticipations were so well known in the community that
when a son and heir, Henry J. Bowers, was born at last, in 1824, the
event was signalized by the ringing of the village church bells in
Cooperstown, the only birthday in the region that was ever honored by
such a demonstration.
John Myer Bowers, in his later years, was far from being the Beau
Brummel of his youthful days in New York, and came to be known in the
village as a distinct character, ruggedly determined not to yield to the
infirmities of old age. When his physical strength began to fail he kept
a horse constantly in harness and standing at the door of Lakelands that
he might ride to and from the village. This horse, known as "Old Chap,"
was a familiar figure on the road in those days, and faithful to his
master to the advanced age of thirty-seven years.
John M. Bowers died in the year 1846. His widow continued to occupy
Lakelands until her death in 1872, and a daughter, Martha S. Bowers,
continued the occupancy during her life. After the death of the latter
Lakelands was sold in making division of the Bowers estate. Henry J.
Bowers married in 1848 a daughter of William C. Crain, a prominent
citizen of the adjoining county of Herkimer. She was a woman of large
intellectual gifts and undaunted spirit, and personally undertook the
education of their eldest son, John Myer Bowers, who sat on the floor
before her, while the mother, book in hand, instilled into his mind the
importance of the three R's, with much stress upon the principles of
fidelity and loyalty as elements of success in business. At the age of
sixteen years she sent him to New York to study law under one of the
leading attorneys of that city. He became one of the foremost lawyers of
the State, and a few years after its sale repurchased Lakelands, with
its forty acres along lake and river, as his summer home. No native son
of Cooperstown has had a more successful career than John M. Bowers. In
1915 he won a verdict for Theodore Roosevelt in the celebrated trial at
Syracuse in which suit for libel was brought against the former
President of the United States by William Barnes, the proprietor of the
_Albany Evening Journal_.
[Illustration: _C. A. Schneider_
LAKELANDS]
A mansard roof was added to Lakelands at the period during which the
property was out of the possession of the Bowers family, but the
remainder of the house is of the original building, and the carved
wooden doors and mantel-pieces within testify to the skill of old-time
workmanship in Cooperstown. The wide stretches of lawn shaded by
venerable trees, and the long sweep of lake shore commanded by Lakelands
make it a charming country seat.
* * * * *
In 1801 George Pomeroy, a young man of twenty-two years, arrived from
Albany, and set up in business as the first druggist in the village and
county. His store stood on Main Street on the site of the present Clark
Gymnasium. Some of the hardships of the early settlers to which history
may only allude are suggested by a sign which hung in front of the drug
store of Dr. Pomeroy, as he was called. This sign depicted a hand
pointing to these words: "Itch cured for 2 cts. 4 cts. 6 cts. Unguentum.
Walk in."
Dr. Pomeroy had other talents beside his skill in chemistry, and soon
became a popular citizen of the village, displaying one accomplishment
that was perhaps not so rare then as now in being an expert in the
exposition of the Bible. Dr. Pomeroy was not so absorbed in his Bible as
to be indifferent to the heavenly qualities which radiated from the
person of Ann Cooper, the seventeen-year-old daughter of the founder of
the village, for it soon appeared that these two young people had formed
a romantic attachment. In aspiring to the hand of the heiress Dr.
Pomeroy could not promise to endow her with great riches, but he had a
good name in being a grandson of General Seth Pomeroy who fought at
Bunker Hill.
It was as a wedding gift to his daughter, on her marriage to George
Pomeroy in 1804, that Judge Cooper built the old stone house which
stands at the corner of Main and River streets. It was the first stone
house constructed in the village, and the peculiar herring-bone style in
which the stone is laid lends to this old residence a quaint and unusual
charm. Under the eastern gable of the house is wrought in stone a spread
eagle, with the date of the building, and the initials of the young
couple who began housekeeping there. The involved order of the
initials--G. A. P. C.--the master-mason, Jamie Allen,[74] explained by
saying that the lives, like the initials, of the bride and groom, should
be so entwined as to make their union permanent. And so it proved, for
they lived in peace and harmony to a great age. The house was for many
years called "Deacon Place," Dr. Pomeroy being widely known as a deacon
of the Presbyterian church, but in later times it was named "Pomeroy
Place."
Ten children were born to the first occupants of the old stone house,
and it became one of the liveliest centres of hospitality to old and
young in Cooperstown. Years afterward there were those whose mouths
watered at the recollection of the dining-room in the southwest quarter
of the house, where many a merry feast was held, with particularly fond
memories of delicious light buckwheat cakes that came hot from the
griddle through a sliding window connected with the kitchen.
As years went on Mrs. Pomeroy became famous as a pattern of good works.
In days when trained nurses were unknown, in almost every family when
sickness came the first call was for "Aunt Pomeroy," who was by many
considered wiser than the physicians. In the course of time the
surviving children born to Mr. and Mrs. Pomeroy had homes and families
of their own, and the old couple were left once more alone in the old
stone house. Aunt Pomeroy's favorite place for receiving her friends was
in the northeast corner room of the lower floor. There she was
accustomed to sit in her rocking-chair, with her book, ordinarily a
volume of sermons, or her knitting, usually a shawl to be sold for the
benefit of missions to the heathen. She was fond of a game of whist, and
her great-grandchildren once attempted to teach her to play euchre. She
was getting on very well with the new game, until an opponent took her
king in the trump suit with the right bower. She threw down her cards,
exclaiming, "No more of a game where a jack takes a king!" She was
always ready to receive visitors, of whom there were many, except at one
hour of the day, which was sacred to an ancient pact between her husband
and herself. Between the hours of five and six Aunt Pomeroy withdrew to
her chamber, while Deacon Pomeroy, at his store, refused himself to
customers, and retired to his private office, so that each devoted the
same space of time to a secluded reading of the Bible.
The old couple were not permitted to end their days in the house which
had been made a kind of symbol of their married happiness, and which
they had occupied for nearly half a century. Late in life, owing to
financial losses, Mrs. Pomeroy was compelled to sell the property. The
aged pair closed the wooden shutters at the windows, fastened the door
behind them, and descended the steps of the old stone house, never to
return.
[Illustration: _J. Patzig_
POMEROY PLACE]
Mrs. Pomeroy passed her later years at Edgewater, the home of her
grandson. Her death was typical of her life of piety. On a certain
afternoon seventy-five women were assembled for Lenten sewing. After
greeting them all in the drawing-room Aunt Pomeroy ascended the stairs
to her room, stretched herself upon the bed, and quietly drew her last
breath. In accordance with the old custom the clock in the death-chamber
was stopped, and a sheet was drawn over the mirror. Down stairs the
rector of the parish read a prayer, and the women filed out of the house
in silence.
Pomeroy Place was not permanently lost to the family for which it was
originally built. When the centennial of the building was celebrated in
1904, the house had already returned to its first estate, having been
purchased by the granddaughter of the original owners, Mrs. George Stone
Benedict, who with her daughter, Clare Benedict, came to occupy it as
their American home between journeys abroad.
Mrs. Benedict's sister, Constance Fenimore Woolson, who made many summer
visits in Cooperstown, may be said to have drawn her original literary
inspiration from this region, for Otsego appears in her first work, "The
Haunted Lake," published in December, 1871, in _Harper's Magazine_,
while Pomeroy Place itself is commemorated in one of her earliest
productions, "The Old Stone House." From this period till her death in
1893 the sketches, poems, and novels that came from Miss Woolson's pen
reached such a level of literary art that Edmund Clarence Stedman called
her one of the leading women in the American literature of the century.
Miss Woolson spent the latter years of her life in Europe, changing her
residence frequently. Gracefully impulsive and independent, she had a
gypsy instinct for the roving life of liberty out-of-doors; yet in
character and demeanor she was so serenely poised, so self-contained,
with such inviolable reserve and dignity, that she was, as Stedman put
it, "like old lace."
* * * * *
One of the most remarkable men of early times in Cooperstown was Elihu
Phinney, publisher of the _Otsego Herald_, who had brought his presses
and type here in the winter of 1795, breaking a track through the snow
of the wilderness with six teams of horses. The first number of the
_Otsego Herald, or Western Advertiser_, a weekly journal, appeared on
the third day of April. This was the second newspaper published in the
State, west of Albany, and its title shows that Cooperstown was then
regarded as belonging to the far west of civilization. Like all
newspapers of that period, the early files of the _Otsego Herald_ appear
to the modern reader to be singularly lacking in local news, and only
the rarest mention of what was going on in Cooperstown is to be found in
its faded pages. There is much of the news of Europe, and the political
news of America admits the printing in full of long speeches delivered
in Congress, but the happenings in Cooperstown seem to have been left to
the tongues of village gossips, and the advertising columns stand almost
alone in reflecting the daily life of the place.
Elihu Phinney was a great favorite in the village, being a man of
delightful social qualities, and distinguished for his remarkable wit
and satire. His bookstore in Cooperstown furnished a large section of
the country with an elemental literature, and with many historical
works. A year after his arrival he was made associate judge of the
county. It was in the printing office of Judge Phinney that Fenimore
Cooper, when a boy, was in the habit of setting type "for fun," which
experience he afterward stated was very useful to him in the oversight
of the typographical production of his writings. On the overthrow of
John Adams's administration Judge Phinney changed the political policy
of his newspaper, _The Otsego Herald_, and became a supporter of Thomas
Jefferson, in opposition to the views of his patron, Judge Cooper, who
remained a Federalist. It was this breach of political friendship which
brought to Cooperstown Col. John H. Prentiss, who came from the office
of the _New York Evening Post_, in 1808, to conduct a newspaper in
opposition to _The Otsego Herald_. Thus came into being _The Impartial
Observer_, which shortly changed its name to _The Cooperstown
Federalist_, and in 1828 became _The Freeman's Journal_, under which
name it is still published.
Judge Phinney founded a bookselling and publishing business which,
through his sons and grandsons, was carried on in Cooperstown for the
better part of a century after its establishment. His place of business
was on the east side of Pioneer Street, next south of the building that
stands at the corner of Main Street, and the present building on the
original site of their enterprise was erected by the Phinneys in 1849.
The Phinney establishment became famous for original methods of
conducting business. Large wagons were ingeniously constructed to serve
as locomotive bookstores. They had movable tops and counters, and their
shelves were stocked with hundreds of varieties of books. Traveling
agents drove these wagons to many villages where books were scarcely
attainable otherwise. The Erie Canal opened even more remote fields of
enterprise. The Phinneys had a canal boat fitted up as a floating
bookstore, which carried a variety beyond that found in the ordinary
village, anchoring in winter at one of the largest towns on the Erie
Canal. Up to the year 1849, when the publishing department was moved to
Buffalo, and only a bookstore remained of the Phinney enterprise in
Cooperstown, their efforts had built up in this village a large
publishing business, while they stocked and maintained the largest
bookstores in towns as far away as Utica, Buffalo, and Detroit. As early
as 1820 their stereotype foundry in Cooperstown had cast a set of plates
for a quarto family Bible, one of the first ever made in the United
States, and of which some 200,000 copies were printed. Later they
published Fenimore Cooper's _Naval History_, Col. Stone's _Life of
Brant_, several volumes by Rev. Jacob and John S. C. Abbott which were
household favorites for a generation afterward, not to mention many
school text-books and histories.
The occasion which caused the removal of this publishing business from
the village arose out of the discontent of some workmen whose services
were dispensed with when new power presses were substituted for
hand-work in printing. The entire manufactory was burned at night by
incendiaries in the spring of 1849.
Elihu Phinney, the founder of the business, was the originator in 1796
of _Phinney's Calendar, or Western Almanac_, which was known in every
household of the region, for some three score years and ten. The weather
predictions in this calendar were always gravely consulted. In one year
it happened, through a typographical displacement, that snow was
predicted for the fourth of July. When the glorious Fourth arrived the
thermometer dropped below the freezing point, and snow actually fell, a
circumstance which greatly increased the already reverent regard for
Phinney's Almanac.
A quaint character who established himself in the village before the
coming of Elihu Phinney was Dr. Nathaniel Gott. He was a man of fiery
spirit. When Dr. Gott's patients, on being restored to health, seemed
inclined to forget their indebtedness to him, he threatened them with
chastisement, and published the following rhymed notice in the _Otsego
Herald_:
Says Dr. Gott,
I'll tell you what,
I'm called on hot,
All round the Ot-
-Segonian plot,
To pay my shot
For pill and pot.
If you don't trot
Up to the spot,
And ease my lot,
You'll smell it hot.
NATHANIEL GOTT.
Dr. Gott was an eccentric. He wore short breeches, with long stockings,
and always ate his meals from a wooden trencher. Among a company of
village men enjoying a convivial evening at the tavern a contest of wit
and satire arose between Dr. Gott and Elihu Phinney who had become warm
friends. Finally it was proposed that each should compose an impromptu
epitaph for the other. In the epitaph which he improvised for Judge
Phinney Dr. Gott, adapting the conceit of the schoolmen, made out Judge
Phinney's soul to be so small that thousands of such could dance on the
point of a cambric needle. Judge Phinney retorted with the following:
Beneath this turf doth stink and rot
The body of old Dr. Gott;
Now earth is eased and hell is pleased,
Since Satan hath his carcass seized.
Amid shouts of laughter from the onlookers, Dr. Gott, turning jest into
earnest, strode from the tavern, and his friendship for Judge Phinney
was ended.
The town pump stood on the north side of Main Street a few rods east of
Chestnut street. Its former position is now marked by a tablet set in
the sidewalk. On the corner west of the pump Daniel Olendorf kept a
tavern. He was a small man, and very lame from a stiff knee. The muscles
of the leg were contracted, making it considerably shorter than the
other. At one time he was leading a lame horse through the street, when
a little dog came following on behind, holding up one leg and limping
along on the other three. The sight caused no little merriment along the
street when the lame man, the lame horse, and the lame dog were seen
marching in procession. Olendorf, wondering at the cause of so much
amusement, looked back and saw the uninvited follower. He picked up a
stone, and flung it at the dog, exclaiming, "Get along home; there is
limping enough here without you, you little lame cuss, coming limping
after us!"
Young James Cooper, afterward the novelist, had left the village when a
young lad to be tutored by the rector of St. Peter's, Albany, and
thereafter spent little of his boyhood in Cooperstown. After his
uncompleted course at Yale, and a year's cruise at sea, he returned for
a time, in 1807, to his village home, being then a youth of eighteen
years. To this period belongs the incident of his participation in a
foot-race among some of his former companions in the village. The
racecourse agreed upon was around the central square, that is, beginning
at the intersection of Main and Pioneer streets, at the Red Lion Inn,
the runners were to go up Pioneer Street to Church Street, thence to
River Street, down River Street to Main, and so back to the place of
starting.
James Cooper was mentioned as one of the competitors, and his antagonist
was selected. The prize was a basket of fruit. Cooper accepted the
challenge, but not on even terms. It was not enough for the young sailor
to outrun the landsman; he would do more. Among many spectators Cooper
caught sight of a little girl. He caught her up in his arms, exclaiming,
"I'll carry her with me and beat you!" Thus the race began, the little
black-eyed girl clutching Cooper's shoulders. As the contestants rushed
up Pioneer Street, and turned the corner where the Universalist church
now stands, the amused and excited villagers saw with surprise that the
sailor with his burden was keeping pace with the other flying youth.
Around the square the runners turned the next two corners almost
abreast. After rounding the corner of the Old Stone House, as they came
up the main street toward the goal Cooper, bearing the little girl
aloft, gave a burst of speed, amid wild cheers, drew away from his
opponent, and won the race. The basket of fruit was his, which he
distributed among the spectators, and the little girl, afterward the
wife of Capt. William Wilson, long lived in the village to tell the
story of her ride upon James Cooper's shoulders.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 72: The _Otsego Herald_ of Jan. 14, 1796, contained a notice
of warning issued by Henry Bowers against persons who had been cutting
down trees "on my patent, in Newtown Martin."]
[Footnote 73: _The Women of the Revolution_, Elizabeth F. Ellet,
published in 1850, pp. 37-67.]
[Footnote 74: A skillful builder and noted character, commemorated by
Fenimore Cooper in _Wyandotte, or the Hutted Knoll_.]
CHAPTER VIII
THE PIONEER COURT ROOM
In the fore part of the nineteenth century, when public amusements were
few, the people of Cooperstown found a pleasant relaxation from the hard
tasks of pioneer life in attending the trial of suits at law in the
court house. Here were large crowds of interested spectators, and the
matters of litigation were widely discussed in the taverns and homes of
the village. Cooperstown, as the county seat, was the chief battle
ground of an endless warfare among the lawyers of the region, and the
forensic struggles of the first twenty years of the century developed an
array of legal talent in Otsego county which gained the reputation of
being the ablest in the State west of the Hudson. In those days the best
lawyers were orators, and some were actors who would have done credit to
the dramatic profession. The public had its favorites among them, and
their names were known in every household. The trial practice of that
day was a keen encounter of wits between men of high native talent who
perfectly understood each other's motives, and showed infinite
dexterity in twisting facts and arguments to serve their purposes.[75]
[Illustration: AMBROSE L. JORDAN]
The ablest lawyer in the county from 1813 to 1820, when he removed to
Hudson, was Ambrose L. Jordan, who began his career in Cooperstown in
partnership with Col. Farrand Stranahan. Jordan was a commanding figure,
six feet tall, slim and graceful in figure; blue eyes that were at once
keen and kindly added lustre to the impression produced by the
sensitive features of his countenance. He had a profusion of brown curls
and a complexion as fine as a woman's. Dignified and courtly in manner,
he was as brilliant in conversation as he was impressive and powerful as
an orator. In natural eloquence Jordan was a man of the first rank.
Added to this he was a close student, and prepared his cases with great
care. He had great powers of endurance, and in long trials always
appeared fresh and strong after other advocates were exhausted. In his
pleadings before a jury he used every resource at his command, indulging
in flights of oratory that kindled the imagination, dazzling his hearers
with rhetorical tropes and figures, at times humorous and playful, with
a tendency to personal allusion most uncomfortable for his opponent.
Jordan was terrible in sarcasm. One Asbury Newman, a poor, worthless,
drunken fellow, ever ready to testify on either side for a drink of
whiskey, was brought upon the witness stand. Jordan knew his man. After
exhibiting his character in its true light, ringing all the changes upon
his worthlessness, and ridiculing his opponent for bringing him there,
he closed by saying, "Gentlemen of the jury, I will convince you that
this degenerate specimen of humanity is not the son of the saintly and
exemplary Elder Asbury Newman, but that he is the legitimate son of
Beelzebub the prince of devils. He is an eyesore to his father, a sore
eye to his mother, a vagabond upon earth, and a most damnable liar!"
Poor Asbury never appeared in court as a witness afterwards.[76]
Jordan would never submit to being imposed upon by sharp practice. On
one occasion, as he was returning homeward in the early evening from the
trial of a case in a neighboring village, his wagon broke down. There
was some snow on the ground, and a farmer in a lumber sleigh was gliding
by, when Jordan requested his assistance to reach Cooperstown, some five
miles away. The two put the broken wagon on the sleigh, and leading the
disengaged horse, drove on to Jordan's home. No bargain had been made,
and when, at the journey's end, Jordan inquired what he should pay, the
sharp farmer named a most extortionate sum. Jordan then declared that
the pay demanded was three times as much as the service was worth; yet
rather than have any hard feeling about the matter he would pay double
price: but more he would not pay. The offer was refused, and the farmer
departed, breathing threats.
Within a few days a summons was served on Jordan to appear before a
justice who was a near neighbor and friend of the farmer. On the trial
the justice gave judgment for the plaintiff for the full amount of the
claim, and costs. As soon as the law would permit, execution was issued
on this judgment, and placed in the hands of a deputy sheriff for
collection.
Jordan managed to have information of the coming of the officer to
collect this judgment. His law partner, Col. Stranahan, was the owner of
a handsome gold watch and chain, which for that occasion Jordan
borrowed, and hung up conspicuously from a nail on the front of the desk
at which he was writing, in the little office building which then stood
on Main Street, near Jordan's home.
When the officer entered, saying that he had an execution against him,
Jordan asserted that he did not intend to pay it.
"Then," said the officer, "my duty requires me to levy on your property,
and I shall take this,"--at the same time taking the watch, and putting
it into his pocket.
"My friend," said Jordan, "I advise you to put back the watch. If you do
not, you will get yourself into trouble."
The deputy was obdurate, however, and left the office, taking with him
the watch. With all possible expedition a writ and other papers in a
replevin suit were prepared for an action of Stranahan against the
deputy sheriff. The sheriff of the county was found, the replevin writ
put into his hands, which he at once served on the deputy, took back the
watch and delivered it to the owner. The deputy sheriff called on the
farmer to indemnify him in the replevin suit, which he felt compelled to
do. The result of the affair, which was soon arrived at, was this: the
plaintiff succeeded in the replevin suit, the costs of which amounted to
over one hundred dollars. The judgment obtained by the extortionate
farmer was about twenty dollars, and he finally had to pay over to
Jordan, as Stranahan's attorney, the difference between these sums.[77]
When Ambrose Jordan began the practice of law in Cooperstown he planted
an elm tree on Chestnut Street in front of his home, at the northwest
corner of Main Street. This elm, grown to mighty proportions, celebrated
its one hundredth birthday in 1913. Within a few paces of the corner,
facing on Main Street, and in the rear of the dwelling which fronts
Chestnut Street, stood the small building that Jordan occupied as an
office. This is one of the few remaining examples of the detached law
offices which were common in Cooperstown, as in other villages, in early
days, and often stood in the dooryard of a lawyer's residence.[78]
[Illustration: _C. A. Schneider_
JORDAN'S HOME, AND HIS LAW OFFICE]
Jordan's partner, Col. Stranahan, was less conspicuous as a lawyer than
as a soldier and politician. He was in command of a regiment throughout
the War of 1812, and received official commendation for gallantry. On
his record for military service and personal popularity he was elected
senator, from what was then known as the Western District, in 1814, and
again in 1823. During this period he became the recognized leader of the
Otsego Democracy. Stranahan was a poor man, and his official service was
rendered at the sacrifice of his law practice. When Cooperstown
celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of our national independence, Col.
Stranahan, because of his debts, was a prisoner in the county jail. A
multitude of people from every part of the county had gathered in
Cooperstown, and among the guests of honor were two old friends of
Stranahan, Alvan Stewart and Levi Beardsley of Cherry Valley, the former
being the orator of the day. Stewart and Beardsley, greatly distressed
that, on an occasion devoted to the celebration of liberty, Stranahan
should be in jail, went to the sheriff and gave their word to indemnify
him, if he would bring his prisoner to the celebration. Accordingly
Stranahan came, closely attended by the sheriff, and, after the
oration, dined with the celebrating party. After the drinking of many
toasts, toward evening the sheriff wished to return with his prisoner to
the jail. By this time the party was in a merry mood, and full of the
spirit of independence. The sheriff had some difficulty in persuading
the banqueters to permit him to withdraw Stranahan from the festivities.
Finally it was decided that if Stranahan must return to jail it should
be with an escort of honor, and a group under the leadership of Stewart,
Beardsley, and Judge Morell agreed to perform this duty. On reaching the
jail the members of the escort were seized by another freak of fancy,
and insisted upon being locked up with Stranahan. The sheriff having
complied with their wishes, the prisoners soon tired of their
confinement without further refreshment, and sent for the plaintiff
against Stranahan to come to the jail. This being done they affected a
compromise with him, by which he agreed to cancel a part of the debt if
Stranahan's friends would each pay him twenty dollars. Thus Stranahan
was released in triumph, and the rest of the night was passed in
celebrating the event.[79]
Ambrose L. Jordan's chief rival among the lawyers of Otsego county was
his neighbor Samuel Starkweather, a man of great physical and mental
power. He was in many ways to be contrasted with Jordan, more strongly
built, swarthy, having dark eyes and hair, with a massive head set upon
broad shoulders, and every feature of his face indicative of strong will
and energetic action. Somewhat less of an orator than Jordan,
Starkweather equalled him in close logical reasoning.
[Illustration: _J. B. Slote_
THE HOME OF ROBERT CAMPBELL]
At the beginning of the century John Russell, Elijah H. Metcalf, and
Robert Campbell were resident in Cooperstown. Russell was the second
member of Congress to be elected from the place. Col. Metcalf served two
years in the legislature of the State. Campbell, of the well-known
Cherry Valley family, built for his residence in 1807 the house which
still stands on Lake Street facing the length of Chestnut Street. He was
a man of stout build, with a full face, slightly retiring forehead, a
trifle bald, urbane and unassuming in deportment. As a pleader at the
bar he was only moderately eloquent, but he was popularly designated far
and near as "the honest lawyer," and his advice was not only much sought
but implicitly relied upon. In a period not much devoted to the
amenities of legal procedure one member of this group of lawyers, George
Morell, made a reputation not so much as an advocate as for his
faultless diction and polished manners.
On the other hand, Alvan Stewart of Cherry Valley was the clown of the
court room, and to such good purpose that the ablest lawyers of
Cooperstown dreaded him as an opponent. He was a master of absurd wit
and ridicule. In Proctor's _Bench and Bar_ he is referred to as "one of
the most powerful adversaries that ever stood before a jury." He was not
a profound lawyer, and seems never to have studied the arrangement of
his cases, nor to have bestowed any care in preparation for their
presentation, but his mind was richly furnished with thoughts upon every
subject which came up for discussion in the progress of a trial, and his
illustrations, although unusual and grotesque were strikingly
appropriate. His greatest power lay in that he could be humorous or
pathetic, acrimonious or conciliating, denouncing the theories,
testimony and pleas of the opposition in lofty declamation, and almost
in the same breath convulsing his audience, the court and jury included,
by the most laughable exhibitions of ridicule and burlesque.[80]
A case in which Alvan Stewart opposed Samuel Starkweather was long
afterward famous in Cooperstown.[81] The case was an important one, and
was brought to a climax when the logical and serious Starkweather began
summing up for the defense. While he was speaking Stewart took a
position so as to gaze continually into the face of his opponent,
evidently with the intention of disconcerting him, and of distracting
the attention of the jury. Starkweather was not a little irritated at
Stewart's absurd look and attitude. In spite of this, however, he
grappled with the strong points at issue, and elucidated them with
telling logic in his own favor; he kept the closest attention of the
jury, producing conviction in the justice of his position; and took his
seat well satisfied that he would have a favorable verdict. In his
closing words Starkweather made some allusion to Stewart's staring eyes,
and cautioned the jury against being influenced by the well-known
absurdities which he was wont to introduce.
Stewart in the mean time sat with a pompously assumed calmness and
dignity, like a turkey cock beside his brooding mate before awaking the
dawn with his matin gobbling. After a time he began to gather himself
up, and slowly lengthened out to his full height, about six feet four.
His blue frock coat thrown back upon his shoulders sat loosely around
him. His arms hanging down beside him like useless appendages to a
statue; his white waistcoat all open except one or two buttons at the
bottom; his white necktie wound carelessly about his neck; his shirt
collar wide open; his face a kind of oblong quadrilateral containing
features grotesquely drawn downward; his eyes, large and prominent, so
turned as to show most of the sclerotic white of the eyeballs,--all were
combined to present the buffoon in his utmost burlesque of himself.
Alvan Stewart's first movement was to turn his head and roll his eyes so
as to fix the attention of his audience, who were ever ready to laugh
when his lips opened, whether wit or folly came from them. Then, with an
awkward bow, he paid his respects to the court, and, turning to the
jury, commenced:
"It appears, gentlemen of the jury, from the remarks of the opposing
counsel," here turning to Starkweather, "that my _eyes_ constitute the
principal thing at issue"--pausing a moment, then turning again to the
jury,--"in the cause pending before us. They are the same eyes that my
Maker fashioned for me, and I have used them continually ever since I
was a b-o-y,"--drawing the last word out with a deep guttural
voice,--"and this is the first time that I have ever heard their
legitimacy questioned." He then went on to compare his eyes to two full
moons rising upon the scene, a phenomenon made necessary to dispel a
little of the darkness that, under the pretence of light and justice,
had been ingeniously thrown around the cause they were to decide. For a
full half hour this rambling burlesque was continued, with a manner of
delivery indescribably ludicrous, only now and then touching upon the
cause on trial, and then only to fling ridicule upon some of the points
previously argued for the defendant.
During all this time the spectators were shaking with laughter, while
the jury and even the judge had to press their lips to retain their
gravity, and were not always successful. More than once Stewart was
interrupted by Starkweather for bringing in matters not related to the
subject under litigation, or for making statements not warranted by the
facts. Stewart stood blinking at him until he had finished, then turned
beseechingly to the judge; when the decision was against him he struck
out into some other line of buffoonery equally grotesque. In conclusion
he came down to argumentation, bringing his logic to bear upon the few
points that he had not involved with absurdities, and sat down in
triumph.
When the verdict had been rendered in Stewart's favor, Starkweather
strode forth from the court room in a rage, muttering fierce
imprecations against a man who was capable of overmatching reason and
justice by low buffoonery.
But none could be long angry at Stewart. He had no personal enmities and
no enemies. Later in life he became an anti-slavery agitator and
temperance lecturer pledged to total abstinence, the latter a much
needed measure of reform in the case of Alvan Stewart.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 75: _Noted Men of Otsego during the Early Years_, Walter H.
Bunn, Address at the Cooperstown Centennial.]
[Footnote 76: _Random Sketches of Fifty, Sixty and More Years Ago_,
Richard Fry, in the _Freeman's Journal_, 1878.]
[Footnote 77: _History of Otsego County_, 1878, p. 283.]
[Footnote 78: Moved to the north of the residence, 1917.]
[Footnote 79: _Reminiscences_, Levi Beardsley, 223.]
[Footnote 80: Walter H. Bunn.]
[Footnote 81: Richard Fry.]
CHAPTER IX
FATHER NASH
The saintly life and strange personal charm of the Rev. Daniel Nash, the
first rector of Christ Church, made a deep impression upon the village
of Cooperstown in its early days; and the wide range of his apostolic
labors as a missionary gave him a singular fame, during half a century,
throughout Otsego county, and far beyond its borders. The grave of
Father Nash is in Christ churchyard, marked by the tallest of the
monuments along the driveway, at a spot which he himself had chosen for
his burial.
Daniel Nash was born in Massachusetts at Great Barrington (then called
Housatonic) May 28, 1763.[82] At the age of twenty-two years he was
graduated at Yale in the same class with Noah Webster. He was originally
Presbyterian in his doctrinal belief, and in polity was sympathetic with
the Congregational denomination, of which he was a member. But within
ten years after his graduation from college Daniel Nash became a
communicant of the Episcopal Church and began to study for Holy Orders.
It was one of the quaint sayings attributed to him in later years that
"you may bray a Presbyterian as with a pestle in a mortar, and you
cannot get all of his Presbyterianism out of him," and when asked how he
accounted for his own experience, "I was caught young," he would reply.
Through the influence of the Rev. Dr. Daniel Burhans, who had made
several missionary tours through Otsego and adjoining counties, Nash
became fired with zeal for missionary work in this romantic and
adventurous field. In 1797, having taken deacon's orders, he was
accompanied to Otsego by his bride of a little more than a year, who was
Olive Lusk, described as "an amiable lady of benignant mind and placid
manners," the daughter of an intimate friend of his father. They made
their first home at Exeter, in Otsego, and the early ministerial acts of
Daniel Nash were divided between Exeter and Morris, about eighteen miles
distant.[83]
The missionary zeal of Daniel Nash was so intense that he was unable to
comprehend lukewarmness in such a cause. The first bishop of the diocese
of New York, the Rt. Rev. Samuel Provoost, belonged to a type of
ecclesiastical life that was characteristic of the century then closing.
Orthodox, scholarly, not ungenuinely religious, a gentleman of lofty
aims and distinguished manners, Bishop Provoost charmingly entertained
at his New York residence the rugged missionary of Otsego who came to
report to him, but he was quite unable to enter into a missionary
enthusiasm that appeared to him fanatical, or to understand the
character of an educated man who lived by choice among the people of
rude settlements and untamed forests. Nash was so indignant at the
attitude of his chief that he resolved not to receive from his hands the
ordination to the priesthood, and it was not until the autumn of 1801,
shortly after the consecration of the Rev. Dr. Benjamin Moore as
coadjutor bishop of New York, that he became a priest.
As the result of tireless labor, of much travel through difficult
regions, by the maintenance of divine services at many outposts, Father
Nash was able little by little to establish self-supporting church
organizations throughout Otsego and the neighboring region. In 1801 Zion
Church was built at Morris. Eight years later Father Nash organized St.
Matthew's parish at Unadilla, and in 1811 completed the formal
organization of Christ Church parish in Cooperstown, where the church
building had been erected in 1807-10, and where Father Nash now came to
be in partial residence as rector during seven years.[84]
Aside from these parishes which so soon became permanently established
this extraordinary man was regularly or occasionally visiting and
shepherding the people of many other settlements. In Otsego county,
besides giving pastoral attention to Exeter, Morris, Unadilla, and
Cooperstown, he held services and preached--to name them in the order
of his first visits--in Richfield, Springfield, and Cherry Valley;
Westford and Milford; Edmeston, Burlington, and Hartwick; Fly Creek and
Burlington Flats; Laurens, LeRoy (now Schuyler's Lake), Hartwick Hill,
and Worcester; New Lisbon and Richfield Springs. In Chenango county,
after the establishment of the church in New Berlin, he officiated at
Sherburne and Mount Upton. Beyond these points he extended his work to
Windsor and Colesville in Broome county; to Franklin and Stamford in
Delaware county; to Canajoharie and Warren in Montgomery county; to
Lebanon in Madison county; to Paris, Verona, Oneida Castle, Oneida, and
New Hartford, in Oneida county; to Cape Vincent on Lake Ontario in
Jefferson county; and to Ogdensburg in St. Lawrence county, one hundred
and fifty miles to the north of the missionary's Otsego home.[85] Such
was the field of the priest who officially reported each year to the
convention of the diocese of New York as "Rector of the churches in
Otsego county."
Here belongs the story of an unusual coincidence. From 1816 to 1831
there lived, in the same general region of New York State, within one
hundred miles of the apostle of Otsego, another well known Christian
minister whose surname was Nash, whose only Christian name was
Daniel--the Rev. Daniel Nash,--always known, by a title which popular
affection had bestowed on him, as "Father" Nash. To the people of Otsego
and Chenango counties the name of Father Nash was a household word,
while to the residents of Lewis and Jefferson counties the same name
signified quite a different person. It is curious that no chronicle of
either region betrays any contemporary knowledge of the coincidence.
Each prophet was honored in his own country, and unknown in the
stronghold of the other. This is the more strange, since their paths
almost crossed in the year 1817, when the two men of identical name,
title, and profession were within forty-five miles of each other, one
being resident as pastor of the Stow's Square church, three miles north
of Lowville in Lewis county, while the Otsego missionary was holding
services at Verona in Oneida county. At different times they traversed
the same counties: it was in 1816 that the Otsego missionary made tours
in Jefferson and St. Lawrence counties; the other Father Nash is known
to have visited these counties eight years later.[86]
The series of coincidences is made more singular by the fact that each
Father Nash had married a wife whose first name was Olive, so that not
only were both men called Father Nash, but the wife, after the custom of
that day, in each case was addressed as Mrs. Olive Nash.
Aside from these remarkable identities the two men were quite
dissimilar. Both were natives of Massachusetts, but the Otsego Nash came
from the extreme west of that State, the other from the farthest east.
Both originally belonged to the Congregational denomination, but the
Otsego Nash had become a priest of the Episcopal Church, while the other
was a Presbyterian minister. The Presbyterian Nash was a famous
revivalist. The Otsego missionary detested revivals. He said that the
converts "reminded him of little humble-bees, which are rather larger
when hatched than they are sometimes afterwards."
There is something almost mysterious in the figure of this second Father
Nash rising from the mist of bygone years, and one is quite prepared to
read of him[87] that he went forth to labor for souls with a double
black veil before his face, like the minister in Hawthorne's weird tale
whose congregation was terrified by the "double fold of crape, hanging
down from his forehead to his mouth, and slightly stirring with his
breath." Three miles north of Lowville in Lewis county, in Stow's Square
churchyard, a marble shaft eight feet high, conspicuous from almost any
point in the country which stretches away to the Adirondack wilderness,
commemorates, in connection with the church that he erected there, the
Father Nash who labored in Lewis and Jefferson counties, and in an
obscure cemetery, not far distant, a modest headstone marks his grave.
Returning to the story of Cooperstown's Father Nash, no estimate of his
work can fail to take into account the character of the field in which
he labored. When he came to this region the country, while partially
settled, was mostly a wilderness. The difficulties of travel were great.
The manner of life among pioneers was crude. Bishop Philander Chase
visited Otsego county in 1799, and gives a vivid impression of the more
than apostolic simplicity of Father Nash's surroundings.[88] The Bishop
found the missionary living in a cabin of unhewn logs, into which he had
recently moved, and from which he was about to remove to another,
equally poor, inhabiting with his family a single room, which contained
all his worldly goods, and driving nails into the walls to make his
wardrobe. The bishop assisted the missionary in his moving, and
describes how they walked the road together, carrying a basket of
crockery between them, and "talked of the things pertaining to the
Kingdom of God."
In his missionary journeys Father Nash rode on horseback from place to
place, often carrying one of his children, and Mrs. Nash with another in
her arms behind him on the horse's back, for she was greatly useful in
the music and responses of the services.
Father Nash held services punctually according to previous appointment,
but they were sometimes strangely interrupted. The terror of wolves had
not been banished from Otsego, and on one occasion, at Richfield, the
entire congregation disappeared in pursuit of a huge bear that had
suddenly alarmed the neighborhood.[89] The bear was captured, and
furnished a supper of which the congregation partook in the evening.
While the bear hunt had spoiled his sermon, Father Nash cheerfully
asserted that it was a Christian deed to destroy so dangerous a brute
even on a Sunday, and a venial offense against the canons of the Church.
It is further related that Father Nash ate so much bear steak, on this
occasion, as to make him quite ill.
Although Fenimore Cooper was usually loath to admit that any character
in his novels was drawn from life, Father Nash was generally recognized
as the original of the Rev. Mr. Grant in the novel descriptive of
Cooperstown which appeared under the title of _The Pioneers_. If this
identification be justified, it must be said that while the author of
the _Leather-Stocking Tales_ has well represented the genuine piety of
his model, he has disguised him as a rather anaemic and depressing
person. Father Nash was a man of rugged health, six feet in height, full
in figure, over two hundred pounds in weight, of fresh and fair
complexion, wearing a wig of longish hair parted in the middle, and
dressed always, as circumstances permitted, with a strict regard for
neatness.
[Illustration: FATHER NASH]
The only original portrait of Father Nash now remaining, from which all
the extant engravings were taken, hangs in the sacristy of Christ
Church. This portrait was given to the church in 1910, when the parish
centennial was celebrated, by Father Nash's granddaughter, Mrs. Anna
Marie Holland, of Saginaw, Michigan, and his great grandson, Harry C.
Nash, of Buffalo. Mrs. Holland related a quaint incident concerning the
portrait as connected with her own childhood. As it hung in her father's
house, she used to be both annoyed and terrified at the manner in which
the eyes of the portrait followed her about the room with persistent
and, as she thought, reproving gaze. Especially when she had been guilty
of some childish prank, the silent reproach in her grandfather's eyes
was intolerable. One day she climbed upon a chair before the portrait,
and with a pin attempted to blind the eyes. The pin pricks are still
visible upon the canvas.
At three score years and ten Father Nash looked upon the bright side of
everything, being full of anecdote and humor, and appeared to have more
of the simplicity and vivacity of youth than men who were thirty years
his junior. One who saw him at this period of life attributed the old
missionary's health and vigor in part to his great cheerfulness.[90]
The slightest sketch of Father Nash would be incomplete without some
reference to the story of his answer to a farmer who asked him what he
fed his lambs. "Catechism," replied Father Nash, "catechism!" And behind
the smile that followed this homely sally the analyst of character would
have seen the earnest purpose of his mission to the children of Otsego
which was one of the sublime secrets of his ministry.
In the history of Western New York Father Nash of Otsego deserves a
place of honor among the foremost pioneers. Wherever the most
adventurous men were found pushing westward the frontier of
civilization, there was Father Nash, uplifting the standard of the
Church. Not only had he courage and energy; he displayed remarkable
foresight in his manner of laying foundations. Of the Episcopal churches
in the Otsego region the greater number were established by him, and
most of them flourish at the present time.
"No Otsego pioneer deserves honor more," says Halsey, in _The Old New
York Frontier_, "not the road builder or leveler of forests, not the men
who fought against Brant and the Tories. To none of these, in so large a
degree, can we apply with such full measure of truth the sayings that no
man liveth himself, and that his works do follow him."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 82: _Lives of Phelps and Nash_, John N. Norton.]
[Footnote 83: _History of Zion Church Parish, Morris_, by Katherine M.
Sanderson, p. 6.]
[Footnote 84: _Historic Records of Christ Church, Cooperstown_, G.
Pomeroy Keese.]
[Footnote 85: Reports of Rev. Daniel Nash to New York Convention,
1803-1827.]
[Footnote 86: For The Otsego Nash see Reports of Daniel Nash to New York
Conventions. For the other see _Memoirs of Rev. Charles G. Finney_, New
York, A. S. Barnes and Co., 1876, pp. 52, 70, 117.]
[Footnote 87: Finney, _Memoirs_, p. 70.]
[Footnote 88: _Bishop Chase's Reminiscences_, Vol. I, p. 33.]
[Footnote 89: _Reminiscences_, Levi Beardsley, p. 42.]
[Footnote 90: _The Church Review_, New Haven, October, 1848, p. 398.]
CHAPTER X
THE IMMORTAL NATTY BUMPPO
In the opinion of Sainte-Beuve, Fenimore Cooper possessed the "creative
faculty which brings into the world new characters, and by virtue of
which Rabelais produced Panurge, Le Sage Gil-Blas, and Richardson
Pamela." Thackeray, praising the heroes of Scott's creation, expressed
an equal liking for Cooper's, adding that "perhaps Leather-Stocking is
better than any one in Scott's lot. La Longue Carabine is one of the
great prize-men of fiction. He ranks with your Uncle Toby, Sir Roger de
Coverley, Falstaff--heroic figures all, American or British; and the
artist has deserved well of his country who devised him." Thackeray
proved the sincerity of his admiration when he borrowed a hint from the
noble death-scene of Leather-Stocking in _The Prairie_, and adapted it
to describe the passing of Colonel Newcome.
Cooper's wide audience of general readers is here in agreement with
Sainte-Beuve the critic and Thackeray the novelist. Whatever else may be
said of Cooper's works it is certain that in the man Natty Bumppo, known
as "Leather-Stocking," "Pathfinder," "Deerslayer," and "La Longue
Carabine," Cooper created an immortal being. Among heroes of fiction
Leather-Stocking stands with the few that are as real to the imagination
as the personages of veritable history. Readers of Cooper recall
Leather-Stocking with genuine affection; others, without having read a
line of the _Leather-Stocking Tales_ have somehow formed an idea of his
person and character. Leather-Stocking is a rare hero in being noble
without being offensive. "Perhaps there is no better proof of Cooper's
genuine power," says Brander Matthews, "than that he can insist on
Leather-Stocking's goodness,--a dangerous gift for a novelist to bestow
on a man,--and that he can show us Leather-Stocking declining the
advances of a handsome woman,--a dangerous position for a novelist to
put a man in,--without any reader ever having felt inclined to think
Leather-Stocking a prig."
Leather-Stocking was first introduced to the public in _The Pioneers_,
the novel descriptive of early days in Cooperstown which Cooper
published in 1823. The character was not yet fully developed, but
Nathaniel Bumppo in outward appearance stood at once complete. "He was
tall, and so meagre as to make him seem above even the six feet that he
actually stood in his stockings. On his head, which was thinly covered
with lank, sandy hair, he wore a cap made of fox-skin. His face was
skinny, and thin almost to emaciation; but yet it bore no signs of
disease; on the contrary, it had every indication of the most robust and
enduring health. The cold and the exposure had, together, given it a
color of uniform red. His gray eyes were glancing under a pair of shaggy
brows, that overhung them in long hairs of gray mingled with their
natural hue; his scraggy neck was bare, and burnt to the same tint with
his face. A kind of coat, made of dressed deerskin, with the hair on,
was belted close to his lank body, by a girdle of colored worsted. On
his feet were deerskin moccasins, ornamented with porcupines' quills,
after the manner of the Indians, and his limbs were guarded with long
leggings of the same material as the moccasins, which, gartering over
the knees of his tarnished buckskin breeches, had obtained for him,
among the settlers, the nick-name of Leather-Stocking."
In this story the novelist had presented Leather-Stocking as a finished
portrait, with his long rifle, dog Hector, and all. Cooper had described
him as a man of seventy years, and intimated no purpose of carrying him
over into another volume. Natty Bumppo proved to be so popular, however,
that in 1826 Cooper made him an important figure in _The Last of the
Mohicans_, representing him in young manhood, at the age of thirty
years, and betrayed a more profound interest in the spirit of the
character which he had discovered. The success of this venture
encouraged the author, in the next year, to bring Leather-Stocking
forward, for what he intended to be the last time, in _The Prairie_. The
closing chapter of that story describes the death and burial of
Leather-Stocking.
But the public could not have enough of Natty Bumppo, and the result was
that, after leaving him in his grave, Cooper resurrected
Leather-Stocking as the hero of two more novels. In _The Pathfinder_,
published in 1840, he described Natty Bumppo at the age of forty years;
and _The Deerslayer_, the last published of the series, gave a youthful
picture of Leather-Stocking at the age of twenty. When the
_Leather-Stocking Tales_ were afterward published complete they of
course followed the logical order in the presentation of the hero's
life, without regard to the dates of original publication. The actual
order in which they were written, however, suggests an interesting
glimpse of Cooper's method of work in developing his most successful
character.
It is generally believed that an old hunter named Shipman, who lived in
Cooperstown during Fenimore Cooper's boyhood, suggested to the novelist
the picturesque character of Leather-Stocking. The persistence of this
tradition requires some explanation, for it is not strikingly confirmed
by what Cooper himself had to say of the matter. In the preface of the
_Leather-Stocking Tales_, written after the series was complete, he
said: "The author has often been asked if he had any original in his
mind for the character of Leather-Stocking. In a physical sense,
different individuals known to the writer in early life certainly
presented themselves as models, through his recollection; but in a moral
sense this man of the forest is purely a creation."
In the face of this, the most that can be said for the current
tradition is that Cooper's assertion does not exclude it from
consideration. What he lays stress upon is that the inner spirit of
Leather-Stocking was the novelist's creation. His statement is not
inconsistent with the possibility that he had the hunter Shipman chiefly
in mind as the prototype of Leather-Stocking, with some characteristics
added from other hunters, of whom there were many in the early days of
Cooperstown. The heat with which he denies having drawn upon the
character of his own sister in portraying the heroine of _The Pioneers_
seems to betray a feeling, which later writers have not often shared,
that an author cannot transfer real persons to the pages of fiction
without a violation of good taste. Here lies perhaps a partial
explanation of the fact that Cooper never acknowledged a living model
for any of his characters. Even Judge Temple in _The Pioneers_, who
occupies exactly the position of Judge Cooper in reference to the
village which he actually founded, Fenimore Cooper will not admit to be
drawn in the likeness of his father. He disposes of this supposition in
the introduction of _The Pioneers_ by observing that "the great
proprietor resident on his lands, and giving his name to his estates, is
common over the whole of New York." Yet in the same introduction he
confesses that "in commencing to describe scenes, and perhaps he may add
characters, that were so familiar to his own youth, there was a constant
temptation to delineate that which he had known, rather than that which
he might have imagined." How far he yielded to the temptation is a
question which, in making as if to reply, he deftly leaves unanswered,
and his unwillingness to satisfy curiosity on this point is the one
thing that a careful reading of his words makes clear. He is free to
admit in a general way that he drew upon life for material, but he will
not be pinned down as to any particular character; yet only in the one
instance--when his sister was named as the original of Elizabeth
Temple--did he flatly deny the identification of a real original with a
creature of his fiction. After all, even if Cooper had drawn many of his
characters from real life, there would have been so much modification
necessary to fit them into the action of a story as to warrant him in
the assertion "that there was no intention to describe with particular
accuracy any real character"; and if he did not wish to take the public
into his confidence regarding these intimate details of his work, he had
a perfect right to treat the matter as evasively as the truth would
permit.
One can see reasons for Cooper's unwillingness to inform the public that
his old neighbors in Cooperstown were to be recognized in his books.
There is the creative artist's reason, who does not wish to be regarded
as a mere photographer; there is the gentleman's sensitiveness to
certain rights of privacy not to be invaded by public print; there is
the experience of a writer who was often dismayed at the facility of his
pen in stirring neighborly animosities.
As to Leather-Stocking, this is to be said: that in Cooper's boyhood
there lived in Cooperstown a hunter named Shipman whom Cooper himself
in the _Chronicles of Cooperstown_, published in 1838, described as "the
Leather-Stocking of the region." Furthermore,--whether owing to any
private information from Fenimore Cooper cannot now be ascertained,--the
tradition from his time to the present day, in spite of the author's
vague disclaimer, persistently clings to Shipman as the original of
Leather-Stocking.
Strangely enough, the matter in dispute has not been the identity of
Shipman with Leather-Stocking, but the identity of Shipman himself. Who
was Shipman? This is the question that has stirred controversy; and two
ghosts have arisen from the past, each claiming to be the Shipman whom
Cooper idealized, re-christened, and made immortal.
Cooper gave to his hero the name of Nathaniel Bumppo. It has been
claimed that Cooper borrowed not only the character but the Christian
name of Nathaniel Shipman, a famous hunter and trapper, who came to
Otsego Lake at the time of the Revolutionary War, and made his home in a
cave on the border of the lake until about 1805.
According to the discoverers of this original of Leather-Stocking,
Nathaniel Shipman was a close friend of the Mohican Indians, and fought
with them against the French and the Canadian Indians. In the years
immediately preceding the American Revolution Shipman was a well known
settler of Hoosick, northeast of Albany and near the border of Vermont,
where he had built him a cabin on the banks of the Walloomsac. He was
well disposed toward the English, and one of his closest friends was an
officer in the British army. When the Revolutionary War began, while
Shipman's heart was with the movement for independence, his friendship
for the English was such that he determined to be strictly neutral,
helping neither one side nor the other. There is nothing to show that he
was not genuinely neutral. But his patriot neighbors were intolerant of
such neutrality. Anyone who was not for them was against them. Shipman
was put down as a Tory, and his neighbors treated him to a coat of tar
and feathers.
Soon after this event Nathaniel Shipman disappeared from Hoosick, and
not even his own family knew whither he had gone.
In process of time Shipman's daughter married a John Ryan of Hoosick.
Ryan served in the Legislature from 1803 to 1806, and at that time
became acquainted with Judge William Cooper, founder of Cooperstown, and
father of the novelist. In the course of their frequent meetings Judge
Cooper told Ryan of an interesting character whom he had seen in
Cooperstown, and described the picturesque appearance and quaint sayings
of the old hunter who lived on the border of Otsego Lake. At home Ryan
told the story to his wife, who soon became convinced that the old white
hunter whom Cooper had described was none other than her father, who had
been missing for twenty-six years.
Ryan went to Otsego Lake, and, having found the hunter, learned that he
was indeed Nathaniel Shipman who had disappeared from Hoosick at the
time of the Revolutionary War. Ryan persuaded the old man to return with
him, and brought him back to live in the home which then stood some two
miles east of Hoosick Falls. In spite of the devotion of his daughter,
however, the aged hunter never felt quite at home beneath her roof, or
among the former neighbors. His heart was in the wilds, and it is said
that he made frequent visits to the place where he had passed so many
years in unrestricted freedom, where there was none to question his
sincerity or to doubt his loyalty.
Nathaniel Shipman died at the Ryan home in 1809, and his grave is in the
old burying ground on Main Street in Hoosick Falls.
The local tradition in Cooperstown does not recognize Nathaniel Shipman
of Hoosick Falls. When a movement was made in 1915 to erect at Hoosick
Falls a monument to Nathaniel Shipman as the original of
Leather-Stocking, the proposition was made the subject of scornful
comment in Cooperstown, and Nathaniel Shipman of Hoosick was referred to
as "a spurious Natty Bumppo."
Cooperstown agrees that the original of Leather-Stocking was named
Shipman. But the name of the original hunter was not Nathaniel. He was
David Shipman. His grave is not far from Cooperstown, in the Adams
burying ground between the villages of Fly Creek and Toddsville, and at
the beginning of the twentieth century was marked with a tombstone by
Otsego chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution. David
Shipman's descendants live in Cooperstown at the present time. When the
Hoosick Falls claim to Leather-Stocking was first published in 1915, it
was accompanied with the statement that the facts were known to the
people of Hoosick sixty years before. Notwithstanding this the claim was
contradicted in Cooperstown by the positive statement that "for over a
century David Shipman has held the undisputed honor of being the real
Leather-Stocking of Cooper's tales."
David Shipman served in the American army in the Revolutionary War, and
was a member of the Fourteenth Regiment of Albany county militia under
Col. John Knickerbocker and Lieut.-Col. John van Rensselaer. After the
Revolution he lived just over the hills west of Cooperstown in a log
cabin on the east bank of Oak's Creek, about equi-distant between
Toddsville and Fly Creek village. In 1878 Aden Adams of Cooperstown,
aged 81, stated that he well remembered David Shipman. As described by
Adams, he was tall and slim, dressed in tanned deerskin, wore moccasins
and long stockings of leather fastened at the knee, and carried a gun of
great length. He was one of the most famous hunters of the whole
country, and with his dogs roamed the forest in search of deer, bear,
and foxes. He supplied the Cooper family at Otsego Hall with deer and
bear meat, and also assisted Judge Cooper when he was surveying land
about Cooperstown in the early days of the settlement. Colonel
Cheney[91] says that after going west, David Shipman returned to his old
home in the Fly Creek valley, and lived there for several years. His
wife died, and was buried in the Adams cemetery. The ground was wet, and
water partially filled the grave. Elder Bostwick, a Baptist minister
from the town of Hartwick, officiated at the funeral, and upon remarking
to Shipman that it was a poor place to bury the dead, the old hunter
answered, "I know it, but if I live to die, I expect to be buried here
myself."[92]
Cooper's most famous hero, carved in marble, rifle in hand, and with the
dog Hector at his feet, stands at the top of the Leatherstocking
monument in Lakewood cemetery, on a rise of ground near the entrance,
overlooking Otsego Lake from the east side, about fifteen minutes walk
from the village of Cooperstown. That a monument commemorative of Cooper
and Leather-Stocking should stand in the public cemetery, in which
neither the author nor his supposed model is buried, is sometimes
puzzling to visitors. It is said, however, that the site was chosen with
reference to certain scenes in _The Pioneers_. The monument stands near
the spot upon which the novelist, for the purpose of his romance, placed
the hut of Natty Bumppo. It is not far below the road referred to in the
opening scene of the tale, where the travelers gained their first
glimpse of the village, and stands at the foot of the wooded slope upon
which, in the same story, Leather-Stocking shot the panther that was
about to spring upon Elizabeth Temple.
[Illustration: LEATHERSTOCKING MONUMENT]
The monument itself was the result of an unsuccessful effort which was
made shortly after Fenimore Cooper's death in 1851 to erect in his
memory a statue or monument in one of the public squares of New York
City. To this end, ten days after his death, a public meeting of
citizens of New York, at which Washington Irving presided, was held in
the City Hall; two weeks later the Historical Society of New York held a
meeting in commemoration of Cooper; and on February 24, 1852, there was
a great demonstration at Metropolitan Hall, with speeches by Daniel
Webster and George Bancroft, and a memorial discourse by William Cullen
Bryant. The raising of funds for a memorial, which these meetings set as
their object, was not commensurate with the expenditure of rhetoric. The
sum of $678 was contributed, chiefly at the meeting in Metropolitan
Hall, and the committee organized to solicit subscriptions did nothing
further.
Six years later Alfred Clarke and G. Pomeroy Keese of Cooperstown
undertook to raise by subscription a sufficient sum to erect a monument
in Cooper's memory in or near the village in which he lived, having in
view the transfer of whatever sum might be on deposit in New York toward
the proposed monument. They raised $2,500, to which Washington Irving,
acting for the defunct committee in New York, added the $678 already
contributed.
The monument, of white Italian marble, with the statuette of
Leather-Stocking at the top, was sculptured by Robert E. Launitz, and
erected in the spring of 1860. The small bronze casts of this statuette,
which one sees in some of the older homes in Cooperstown, belong to the
same period.
Another attempt to give artistic expression to pride in Natty Bumppo was
wrought in less permanent material. Upon the drop-curtain on the stage
of the Village Hall was painted the scene from _The Pioneers_ which
represents Leather-Stocking, Judge Temple, and Edwards grouped about a
deer that has been shot on the border of the lake. In producing this
scene the artist enlarged an illustration drawn by F. O. C. Darley for
an early edition of _The Pioneers_. The original scene described by
Cooper, and as depicted by Darley, was a wintry one, showing the lake
shore in a mantle of snow. This was thought to be a bit too chilly for a
playhouse, so the view as transferred to the curtain was brightened up
by the addition of green foliage; and deft touches of the scene
painter's brush, without altering the pose of any of the figures,
changed winter into glorious summer. Many a Cooperstown audience,
waiting for the performance to begin, has studied the scene which this
curtain displays, not without wonder that Leather-Stocking is in furs,
and that Judge Temple, in so radiant a summertime, has taken the
precaution to retain his earmuffs.
Natty Bumppo's Cave, a not very remarkable freak of nature which
Fenimore Cooper's pen has made one of the chief points of interest in
the region of Cooperstown, is about a mile from the village, high up on
the hill that rises from the eastern side of the lake. It offers a stiff
climb to the inexperienced, but not to others. It is not much of a
cave, being hardly more than a deep and curiously formed cleft between
the rocks. From the platform of rock over the cave a magnificent view
may be had of the lake and its more distant shores, with the hills
beyond.
[Illustration: _C. A. Schneider_
NATTY BUMPPO'S CAVE]
In _The Pioneers_ Cooper takes advantage of poetic license to enlarge
the cave for the purpose of his story, but the description is exact
enough to identify it with the present Natty Bumppo's cave. In the
summer of 1909 was discovered lower down the hillside another and larger
cave, the small entrance of which, in the woods beyond Kingfisher Tower,
at Point Judith, had long remained unobserved. Here the name of Natty
Bumppo came near being involved in another controversy, for some local
archeologists maintained that the newly discovered cave was the one
which Cooper meant to describe as Natty Bumppo's, being better adapted
to the requirements of the narrative than the one that tradition had
fixed upon.
Cooper might have provided a better cave for Natty Bumppo, but he did
not. On this point the testimony of his eldest daughter, Susan Fenimore
Cooper, is decisive. She was in many ways her father's confidant, and in
his later years closely associated with him in literary work. No other
person has written so intimately of him. In _Pages and Pictures_, which
Miss Cooper published in 1861, she gives a drawing of Natty Bumppo's
cave, and it is the one that has been associated with the tradition and
story of the village down to the present time. It is quite possible,
however, that the cave near Point Judith is the one referred to in the
tradition of Nathaniel Shipman of Hoosick Falls.
Natty Bumppo will live forever as a symbolic figure, representative of
certain indigenous qualities in American life. Lowell found in
Leather-Stocking "the protagonist of our New World epic, a figure as
poetic as that of Achilles, as ideally representative as that of Don
Quixote, as romantic in his relation to our homespun and plebeian myths
as Arthur in his to his mailed and plumed cycle of chivalry." Americans
themselves do not realize how widely, in other countries,
Leather-Stocking is still regarded as typical of certain qualities in
the American character. Among Americans who had half-forgotten their
Cooper, there was no little surprise at the exclamation of Gabriel
Hanotaux, member of the French Academy, distinguished author and
statesman of France, when, in the spring of 1917, on the entrance of the
United States into the war against Germany, he expressed his joy in a
message that was cabled round the world, "Old Leather-Stocking still
slumbers in the depth of the American soul!"
There is a point on Otsego Lake, opposite to Natty Bumppo's cave, from
which passing boatmen awaken the famous Echo of the Glimmerglass. For
more than half of the nineteenth century there lived in the village a
negro whose lungs were renowned for their power to call forth the
fullness of this strange echo. "Joe Tom," as he was named, was always
called upon, as the guide of lake excursions, to perform this peculiar
duty. Stationing his scow at the focal point, the negro would shout
across the water, "Natty Bumppo! Natty Bumppo!--Who's there?" And after
a moment the cry would be flung back, as by the spirit of
Leather-Stocking, from the heights of the steep woods and rocky faces of
the hill. On a still summer evening Joe Tom was sometimes able, by a
single shout, to call forth three distinct echoes, which were heard in
regular succession,--the first from the region of the cave, the second
from Mount Vision, and the third from Hannah's Hill on the opposite side
of the lake, until the margin of the Glimmerglass seemed to resound
with cries of "Natty Bumppo!--Natty Bumppo!" uttered by eerie voices.
The years pass, and no other name retains such magic power to wake the
sleeping echo of the Glimmerglass.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 91: _History of Otsego County_, 1878, p. 249.]
[Footnote 92: Calvin Graves, who came to Cooperstown in 1794, and lived
in the place for 84 years, is quoted as saying that he well knew
Shipman, the Leather-Stocking of Cooper's novels, and that Shipman was
never married. Graves said that he had often visited the old hunter's
cave in company with him. This testimony seems to point to the Hoosick
Shipman, who having deserted his family for twenty-six years, might
easily pass for a bachelor in Otsego, and who is said to have lived in a
cave, concerning which nothing is mentioned in the traditions of David
Shipman.]
CHAPTER XI
STRANGE TALES OF THE GALLOWS
At the eastern end of the main street of the village the bridge across
the Susquehanna River commands a view for a short distance up and down
the stream, far enough toward the north to glimpse its source in Otsego
Lake, while to the south Fernleigh House appears, high amid the trees on
the western bank, and the drifting current below is lost in foliage.
Nearer at hand, as seen from the south side of the bridge, Riverbrink
claims the eastern shore. Here stands a solemn-visaged house that looks
down upon the scene of one of the most extraordinary dramas ever enacted
beneath the gallows-tree.
[Illustration: RIVERBRINK]
In the summer of 1805, on the flat a little below the place where the
house now stands, the gibbet was erected for a public execution. The
condemned man was Stephen Arnold, whose crime was committed in
Burlington, in this county, during the previous winter. Arnold was a
school teacher, and having no children of his own, had taken into his
home Betsey Van Amburgh, a child six years of age. An ungovernable
temper added a kind of ferocious zeal to the duty of educating this
child, for it was her inability to pronounce the word "gig" according
to his directions that brought the teacher to the gallows. Betsey
insisted on pronouncing the word as "jig," and declared that she could
not do otherwise. Whereupon Arnold took her out of the house into the
severely cold evening air, and there whipped her naked body until he
himself became cold. He then took her indoors to make her pronounce the
word correctly, which she failed to do; and again she was taken out and
whipped in the same manner. This act of brutality he repeated seven
times, declaring that he "had as lieve whip her to death as not." The
poor child languished four days, and expired.
Arnold's trial was held in June, in Cooperstown. He was speedily
convicted of murder, and sentenced to die.
The date fixed for the execution, Friday, July 19, 1805, was a gala day
in Cooperstown. The infamy of Arnold's crime had stirred public
indignation throughout this section of the State, and the prospect of
witnessing his execution had been eagerly anticipated, through motives
ranging from morbid curiosity to a stern sense of duty, in the most
distant hamlets of the region. By seven o'clock in the morning on the
day fixed for the hanging the main street of Cooperstown was filled with
people who had travelled from so great a distance that not one in twenty
was known to any of the villagers. The concourse increased until shortly
after noon, when, in the village which normally contained about five
hundred people, the crowd included about eight thousand.
The first centre of interest was the county courthouse and jail which
stood at the then western limits of the village, on the southeast corner
of Main and Pioneer streets. The door of the jail was on the Pioneer
street side of the building, and across the way were the stocks and
whipping-post. These rude symbols of justice might well be a terror to
evil doers. A sample of the punishment meted out to petty offenders is
found in the record that in 1791 a local physician was put in the stocks
for having mixed an emetic with the beverage drunk at a ball given at
the Red Lion Inn; and four years later a man was flogged at the
whipping-post, for stealing some pieces of ribbon. Both culprits were
also banished from the village, apropos of which form of punishment
Fenimore Cooper at a later day was moved to remark, "It is to be
regretted that it has fallen into disuse."
The crowds that gathered to witness the hanging of Stephen Arnold filled
the street in the neighborhood of the jail until the prisoner was
brought forth at noon, when some remained to watch the parade, while
others hurried on to the place of execution to secure good points of
view for the spectacle. A procession was formed in front of the court
house under the direction of the sheriff. The ministers of religion and
other gentlemen, preceded by the sheriff on horseback, moved with
funeral music after the prisoner, who was carried on a wagon and guarded
by a battalion of light infantry and a company of artillery. In this
array the procession moved solemnly down the main street and across the
bridge to the place of execution on the east bank of the river. There
stood the gallows; at its foot was a coffin.
The condemned man was assisted to a seat upon his coffin. About him
gathered the parsons, the representatives of the law, and the soldiery.
There was no house on the bank of the river at that time, and the
thousands of spectators were massed in the natural amphitheatre which
rises, and then rose uninterrupted, toward the east, from the shore of
the Susquehanna.
An interested observer who looked down upon the assemblage from the high
western bank of the river has recorded a vivid impression of the beauty
of the scene and the picturesque and emotional qualities of the
occasion.[93] Looking back toward the village, and then sweeping with a
glance the north and east, his eye caught the roofs of buildings covered
with spectators, windows crowded with faces, every surrounding point of
view occupied. The natural amphitheatre across the river was "filled
with all classes and gradations of citizens, from the opulent landlord
to the humble laborer. Blooming nymphs were there and jolly swains,
delicate ladies and spruce gentlemen, fond mothers and affectionate
sisters, prattling children and hoary sages, servile slaves and
imperious masters." In the elevated background of the landscape
carriages appeared filled with people. It was a warm July day, brilliant
with sunshine, and splendid in the greenery of summer foliage. The
throngs of spectators, tier upon tier, as it were, presented a
kaleidoscopic effect of movement and color, in the undulating appearance
of silks and muslins of different hues, as the eye traversed the
multitude; in the swaying and bobbing of hundreds of umbrellas and
parasols of various colors; in the vibration of thousands of fans in
playful mediation, while the death-struggle of a man upon the gallows
was eagerly awaited. In the foreground, on the bank of the Susquehanna,
the gibbet, with the solemn group about it, relieved only by flashes of
color in the military uniforms, and by the gleam of swords and bayonets,
fascinated every eye.
A great silence fell upon the multitude when the preliminaries to the
execution began with a prayer offered by the Rev. Mr. Williams of
Worcester. The Rev. Isaac Lewis, pastor of the Presbyterian church in
Cooperstown, then stood forth to deliver the sermon. Few preachers, even
in the largest centres of life, have occasion to address congregations
numbered by thousands. What an opportunity was here given to an obscure
country parson, when he faced an audience of some eight thousand people!
Mr. Lewis preached upon the subject of the Penitent Thief, taking as his
text the forty-second and forty-third verses of the twenty-third chapter
of St. Luke: "And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest
into Thy Kingdom. And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, Today
shalt thou be with me in Paradise." Nothing is recorded of the sermon
beyond that it was "a pathetic, concise, and excellently adapted
discourse." Elder Vining closed the religious exercises by a solemn
appeal to the throne of grace for mercy and forgiveness, as well for the
vast auditory as for the prisoner.
The condemned man seemed deeply affected, and perfectly resigned to the
justice of his fate. His penitence was manifest, and drew forth tears of
sympathy from the spectators. After the exercises the prisoner seated
himself on the coffin for a short space, when he was informed that if
he wished to say anything to the people he might now have opportunity.
He arose and addressed a few words to the surrounding multitude,
earnestly urging them to be warned by his fatal example to place a
strict guard upon their passions, the fatal indulgence of which had
brought him to the shameful condition in which they beheld him,
notwithstanding he never intended to commit murder. He concluded his
address with these words: "It appears to me that if you will not take
warning at this affecting scene, you would not be warned though one
should arise from the dead."
At the conclusion of this speech the sheriff stepped forward and made
ready for the hanging, finally adjusting the fatal cord, except for
fastening it to the beam of the gallows.
Near by was a palsied crone, so eager to witness the hanging that she
had been carried to the scene in her rocking-chair, which was placed
upon an improvised platform. Here she had rocked to and fro in her chair
during the whole proceeding, until, when the hangman made ready his
noose, the old hag rocked with such nervous violence that she toppled
over backward, chair and all, her neck being broken by the fall.
The prisoner remained apparently absorbed in meditation which was
entirely abstracted from terrestrial objects. The thousands of
spectators waited in silent and gloomy suspense for the final
catastrophe. The sheriff stood forth and addressed to the condemned man
a few remarks pertinent to the occasion.
Having carried the proceedings to this crucial point, the sheriff,
Solomon Martin, then changed his role, and produced from his pocket a
letter from his excellency Morgan Lewis, Governor of the State of New
York, containing directions for a respite of the execution until further
orders, and announcing that a reprieve, in due form, would soon be
forwarded.
It was now long after noon, and the sheriff, having received this letter
at nine o'clock in the morning, had kept it in his pocket during the
entire proceedings, "conceiving it improper to divulge the respite until
the crisis." The sheriff had acted with the advice of a few others who
were let into the secret. Even the attending ministers of religion were
uninformed of the respite until it was dramatically produced upon the
stage. The thing, in fact, outdid all stagecraft, for while it is quite
consistent with the traditions of theatrical art that an execution
should be stayed at the critical moment by the appearance of a furiously
galloping horseman waving a reprieve above his head, probably never
elsewhere in the history of the drama or in the annals of the law has
the official document been produced at the gallows, after the adjustment
of the fatal noose, from the pocket of the hangman!
In the judgment of the sheriff it appeared that since the order for a
respite had arrived too late to forestall the gathering of great
multitudes to witness the hanging, it was equally clear that it had come
too early to be made public at once without causing unnecessary
disappointment to thousands who were still enjoying the ecstasies of
anticipation. So he carried out the original programme to the letter,
going through with all the preliminaries and forms of the execution,
stopping short only of the actual hanging.
When the sheriff made his amazing announcement from the scaffold, the
prisoner swooned, and the whole scene was changed. The prisoner was
reconducted to the jail with the same pomp and bravery of troops and
music that had brought him to the scaffold. The spectators slowly
dispersed, and before sunset the village assumed its accustomed
tranquility.
The next issue of _The Otsego Herald_ asserted that "the proceedings of
the day were opened, progressed, and closed in a manner which reflected
honor on the judiciary, the executive, the clergy, the military, and the
citizens of the county."
Arnold was never hanged. The State legislature commuted his sentence to
imprisonment for life.
Another story of the gallows belongs to a later period. On Friday,
August 24, 1827, the hanging of a man named Strang was witnessed in
Albany by about thirty thousand spectators. Judging from contemporary
accounts, the circumstances of the execution were not edifying. "We are
more than ever convinced," said the _Albany Gazette_, "of the bad effect
of public executions. Scenes of the most disgraceful drunkenness,
gambling, profanity, and almost all kinds of debauchery, were exhibited
in the vicinity of the gallows, and even at the time the culprit was
suffering. We do most sincerely hope that some law may be enacted
requiring that executions shall be performed in private." The _Albany
Argus_ was more hopeful of some moral benefit from the execution.
"Whilst we may question the utility," it said, "of such spectacles,
tending as they do in general, to gratify a morbid curiosity, and to
excite a sympathy for the criminal rather than an abhorrence, and
consequently a prevention of crime; we trust none who were witnesses of
the scene, will forget that this ignominious death was the consequence
of an indulgence of vicious courses and criminal passions."
Preliminary to the hanging there was the usual speech from the gallows.
Addressing the multitude the condemned murderer said he hoped his
execution would lead them to reflect upon the effects of sin and lust,
and induce them to avoid those acts for which he was about to suffer a
painful and ignominious death.
Among the spectators at this hanging was Levi Kelley of Cooperstown,
who, in order to witness the spectacle, had covered a distance of 75
miles, drawn by his favorite team of black horses, a noble span, of
which he was very proud. Kelley was much depressed in spirit by the
dreadful scene at the gallows, and to a friend who accompanied him on
the homeward journey remarked that no one who had ever witnessed such a
melancholy spectacle could ever be guilty of the crime of murder.
In Christ churchyard in Cooperstown, near the southern border of the
burial ground, and about twenty paces from River Street, stands a
tombstone which commemorates a former resident of the village, and is
unusual for the precision of terms in which it records the date of his
decease; for there is inscribed not merely the day, but the very hour,
of death. The inscription reads:
IN MEMORY OF
ABRAHAM SPAFARD
WHO DIED
AT 8 O'CLOCK P. M.
3D. SEPT. 1827
IN THE 49TH YEAR OF
HIS AGE.
THE TRUMP SHALL SOUND
AND THE DEAD SHALL BE RAISED.
The passer-by who suspects a concealed significance in this desire to
emphasize the exact hour of Abraham Spafard's death is not mistaken.
Abraham Spafard was murdered, shot to the heart by Levi Kelley, and died
almost instantly, at 8 o'clock in the evening, September 3, 1827, just
ten days after Kelley had witnessed the hanging in Albany.
The murderer is buried in the same churchyard with his victim. For
Kelley, on the maternal side, was a connection of the Cooper family.
During his imprisonment before and after the trial he was frequently
visited at the jail by Mrs. George Pomeroy, daughter of William Cooper,
a lady noted for her many works of Christian charity, and after Kelley
had paid the penalty of his crime, she brought it about that his body
was interred in the Cooper plot in Christ churchyard, although no stone
was ever raised to mark the place of his burial, and the exact spot is
now unknown.
The murder occurred in the house of Levi Kelley, in which Abraham
Spafard lived as tenant in Pierstown, about three miles north of
Cooperstown. Kelley was noted for his furious outbursts of temper, while
Spafard was of an amiable and peaceable disposition. Kelley violently
attacked a lame boy who was employed about the place, and when Spafard
interposed, Kelley's anger turned against Spafard, so that a struggle
ensued. The evidence at the trial showed that Spafard struck no blow and
committed no violence, using no more force than was necessary for his
defence. He besought Kelley to desist, and at last, unclenching Kelley's
hands from his throat, Spafard retired quietly into the house. Kelley
then ran for his gun, and following Spafard into his room, shot him to
the heart. Kelley's own wife, as well as the members of Spafard's
family, were the terrified witnesses of the murder.
Kelley's trial, which was held in Cooperstown, began on the twenty-first
of November, and was concluded on the next day. The judge in the case
was the Hon. Samuel Nelson, afterward associate justice of the Supreme
Court of the United States. In passing sentence Judge Nelson addressed
to the prisoner a homily which created a deep impression upon the
crowded court room.
The execution of Levi Kelley was attended by an immense concourse of
people. The hanging of a murderer was still regarded by many, in that
day, not only as fit method of punishment, but as offering a spectacle
of great moral and educational value. It was at once a deterrent from
crime and a vindication of the majesty of the law. When the day set for
the execution of Kelley was come, there was many a home in which the
father of the family announced at breakfast that the children must be
duly washed and dressed in Sabbath array, to accompany him, as in duty
bound, to the solemn spectacle. Nor were all attracted to the dreadful
scene by a sense of duty only, perhaps, at a period when public shows
were few.
The gibbet was erected, amid the December snow, at a point about four
hundred feet south of the site occupied by the present High School, very
near, if not in the midst of, what is now Chestnut Street. Christmas Day
was followed by a thaw, and on Friday, the day set for the execution, a
torrent of rain fell during the morning hours. Yet before noon the
village was thronged with a multitude of men, women and children, keenly
anticipating the gruesome tragedy, until more than four thousand people
were gathered about the gallows.
The court-house and jail stood then not far from their present site. The
procession from the jail to the place of execution was conducted with
much military pomp. Two marshals, each mounted on a prancing steed, led
a troop of cavalry, a corps of artillery, and four companies of
infantry. This formidable array of forces, drawn up in a hollow square
at the jail, having enclosed within its ranks the condemned man and the
attending ministers of the Gospel, moved solemnly to the place of
execution. The prisoner, apparently in a feeble state of health, lay
upon a bed in a sleigh drawn by his favorite black horses, the same that
he had driven to Albany to witness the execution of Strang. The
ministers of religion, the Rev. Mr. Potter and the Rev. John Smith,
pastor of the Presbyterian church, rode in state in the two sleighs that
followed.
Near the gallows there had been erected for the accommodation of
spectators a staging one hundred feet in length and twelve feet in
depth, the front being elevated six feet and the rear eight feet from
the ground. From this structure about six hundred people commanded an
excellent view of the gibbet, while some three thousand others, lacking
this advantage, jostled each other, craning their necks, and standing on
tiptoe, to see what was going forward.
The procession from the jail had arrived upon the grounds, and the
solemnities were about to commence, when the staging suddenly gave way
and fell with a tremendous crash. The spectators upon it were plunged
into a confused heap, struggling for freedom amid the broken timbers.
The shrieks and groans that arose from the scrimmage terrified the
assemblage, and the wild rush of anxious friends and relatives toward
the scene of accident resulted almost in a riot. When order had been in
some measure restored the work of rescue began. Between twenty and
thirty persons were drawn forth from the wreckage severely injured.
Elisha C. Tracy, an engraver, was found to be dead, the upper part of
his face being crushed inward to the depth of more than an inch. Daniel
Williams, an elderly man resident at Richfield, had a leg and arm
broken, and died a few hours later. The dead and wounded were carried
from the field, and some of the spectators, having had enough of
tragedy, withdrew.
The ceremonies of the execution then proceeded, although amid an
atmosphere of intense nervous excitement. The condemned man was taken
from his sleigh, and, because of his illness, required assistance in
ascending the gallows. As he stood there, the centre of all eyes, he
seemed a different man from the passionate murderer of Abraham Spafard.
Weak and sick, he looked down upon the multitude assembled to see him
die. His look was one of regretful sympathy because of the unexpected
accident rather than of fear of his own impending fate. "Who are killed;
and how many are injured?" he inquired.
The rope was noosed about Kelley's neck. The Presbyterian minister
stepped forward, and commended the convict's soul to the mercy of God in
a prayer in which Kelley, with bowed head, seemed to participate. Then
the drop fell. After a few twitchings of the limbs, the body quivered,
and hung still. The show was over. The crowd dispersed.
The effect of this exhibition was to give voice to a growing sentiment
against public hangings. The next issue of the _Freeman's Journal_
protested against such spectacles as demoralizing, and suggested a
movement in the State legislature to amend the law. Kelley's was in
fact the last public hanging in Cooperstown.
The execution of Levi Kelley, with its unexpected accompanying
catastrophe, was long the talk of the neighborhood. It was commemorated
by Isaac Squire, an Otsego rhymester, in some verses that are of curious
interest as a survival of the old ballad form in which events were wont
to be celebrated. Many years afterward there were those who recalled
that the doleful lines were committed to memory by some of the village
children, and sung to a droning tune:
LINES ON THE EXECUTION OF LEVI KELLEY.
Part First
In eighteen hundred twenty seven
Poor Kelley broke the law of Heaven;
He murdered his poor tenant there,
Who took his place to work on share.
'Twas early on a Monday night
This horrid scene was brought to light;
He seized his loaded gun in hand,
And with malicious fury ran,
And when about four feet apart,
Alas! he shot him to the heart.
The expiring words, we understand,
Were, "O Lord, I'm a dying man!"
They quickly ran him to relieve,
But death could grant him no reprieve;
He expired almost instantly,
In his affrighted family.
Kelley's indicted for the crime;
Confined in prison for a time;
A murderer here can take no rest,
While guilt lies heavy on his breast.
November on the twenty-first,
For murder of a fellow dust,
He was arraigned before the bar,
And tried by his country there.
Full testimony did appear
That when the Jury came to hear
In verdict they were soon agreed
That he was guilty of this deed.
And in their verdict they did bring
That cause of death was found in him;
The Judge his sentence did declare,
And thus declared him guilty there:
"Your time is set, O do remember,
The twenty-eighth of December,
Between the hours of twelve and three,
Be launched into eternity.
"Your time is short on earth to stay;
Prepare for death without delay;
Though you no pity showed at all,
May God have mercy on your soul."
Part Second.
December on the twenty-eighth
Did Levi Kelley meet his fate;
This awful scene I now relate
Caused thousands there to fear and quake.
Though wet and rainy was the day,
The people thronged from every way;
With anxious thought each came to see
The unhappy fate of poor Kelley.
The day was come, the time drew near,
When the poor prisoner must appear;
The officers they did prepare,
And round him formed a hollow square,
That they with safety might convey
Him to the place of destiny;
The music made a solemn sound
While they marched slowly to the ground.
A scaffold was erected there,
And hundreds on it did repair,
That all thereon might plainly see
The unhappy fate of poor Kelley.
Before they bid this scene adieu,
An awful sight appeared in view.
See, hundreds with the scaffold fall!
And some to rise no more at all
Till the great day when all shall rise,
To their great joy or sad surprise,
And hear their sentence "Doomed to Hell,"
Or, "With the saints in glory dwell."
The wounded here in numbers lie,
And loud for help now some do cry
While others are too faint to speak,
And some in death's cold arms asleep.
The cry was heard once and again
That "Hundreds now we fear are slain!"
But God in this distressing hour
Revives again each withering flower.
Poor Kelley, in this trying time,
Was executed for his crime.
He hung an awful sight to see;
May this a solemn warning be.
A word to such, before we close,
That love the way poor Kelley chose;
Their vicious ways if you attend
Will bring you to some awful end.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 93: _Otsego Herald_, July 19, 1805.]
CHAPTER XII
SOLID SURVIVALS
The property which now includes Edgewater was inherited by Isaac Cooper,
the second son of Judge Cooper, on the death of his father in 1809. In
the following year he began the erection of the house, which took nearly
four years in building. Aside from its now venerable aspect, this solid
residence, constructed of old-fashioned brick, preserves much of its
original appearance as one of the largest dwellings in the village. It
was modeled after a colonial residence in Philadelphia well known to the
Cooper family. The style of the entrance hall, with the balanced
symmetry of semicircular stairways that ascend to the upper floor, is
singularly effective, while the carved wood of the interior, as seen in
the doorcaps and mouldings, displays skillful workmanship. No house in
Cooperstown commands so fine a general view of Otsego Lake as that which
is to be seen from the porch of Edgewater. The surrounding ground
includes over two acres, and extends to the waters of the lake, although
now traversed by Lake Street, which made its way, by long usage, across
the original property. The house is approached through the paths of an
old time garden, thickly grown with shrubs, and shaded by a variety of
trees.
[Illustration: EDGEWATER]
Isaac Cooper had married Mary Ann, daughter of General Jacob Morris, of
Morris, Otsego county, and took possession of Edgewater as his residence
on December 4, 1813. It is not difficult to understand the feeling of
satisfaction, on being established in this beautiful home, which
prompted Isaac Cooper, at the age of thirty-two years, to record the
event in his diary thus:
Moved--where I hope to end my Days--and I pray Heaven to allow
this House and this Lot--whereon I this day brought my Family,
to descend to my children and to my children's children, and
may they increase in virtue and respectability, and become
worthy of the blessings of Heaven.
This diary is hardly more than a record of weather, with a single line
of "general observations," under which head, from day to day, he makes
brief mention of his doings, social engagements; births, marriages, and
deaths among his friends; his own frequent illnesses: occasionally he
moralizes, or indulges in a bit of self-criticism. A few entries
selected from Isaac Cooper's diary will show its general character. It
will be noticed that he refers to himself in the third person as "Mr.
C." or "Mr. Cooper."
August 20, 1814--New waggon paraded, to the admiration of the
villagers.
August 30--Quilting party at Mrs. Pomeroy's--very pleasant.
January 4, 1815--Cate, Mr. Prentiss married.
February 7--Time passes heavily! Good reason why!
August 8--Laid corner brick of Morrell's & Prentiss' House.
July 30, 1816--Tea Party at Mrs. Poms. Also a party on the
Lake. Major Prevost fell overboard.
October 5--Done quilting, thank fortune.
October 25--Mr. C. set out plum trees in back yard.
October 28--Mr. C. fell down stairs last night. Don't feel so
well for it.
November 13--Took in some pork.
November 16--Mr. Phinney played backgammon with Mrs. Cooper
this evening.
November 27--A Milliner arrived with an assortment of elegant
cheap hats. (Sold a twelve dollar one! I wonder who to?)
November 28--A mystery dissolved. Mrs. Starkweather was the
purchaser of the hat.
December 4--Mrs. Cooper's neck washed--good!
December 5--A dinner party at Mr. J. Cooper's.
December 13--Dipped 700 candles.
December 16--Wine and Brandy tap't. Head combed.
February 7, 1817--Tea Party--30 besides us, viz; Mr. and Mrs.
Campbell, the Miss Starrs, Mr. and Mrs. Dr. Pomeroys, Mr. and
Mrs. George Pomeroy, Mr. and Mrs. E. Phinney, Miss Tiffany,
Miss Talmage, Miss Shankland, the Misses Fuller, H. Phinney,
Mr. Aitchison, Mr. Lyman, Mr. Crafts, Mr. Stewart, Mr. and
Mrs. Morrell, Mr. and Mrs. Webb, Miss Edmonds, Miss Webb, Mrs.
Prentiss, Mrs. Dr. Webb, Mrs. Russell, Mrs. Williams.
February 17--72 loads of wood last week, making my supply for
1817, say 200 loads, exclusive of office.
February 22--Dr. Pomeroy, Mr. George Pomeroy, and Col. Seth
Pomeroy spent the eve. here.
April 1--A barrel of Pork, this day opened. Robins killed
yesterday by A. L. J., a _sin_.
May 9--Mr. Cooper feels for all mankind.
September 12--The Old Lady very ill.
September 13--Mrs. Elizabeth Cooper departed this life.
October 18--Mr. Gratz breakfasted here.
Concerning some settlements in the region, much has been written of the
spirit of democracy in which they were established, and it has been
pointed out that all social distinctions were levelled in the common
tasks of frontier life. It does not appear that this was the case in
Cooperstown. From the time of the first settlement, apparently, an
aristocratic group was formed in the orbit of the Cooper nucleus, and
social climbing began before the wolves and bears had been quite driven
from the forests of Otsego. The tea party of February 7, 1817, mentioned
in the diary, probably names most of those who were at that time
admitted to the inner circle of the socially elect; another entry, dated
December 31, 1816, relates to a different social sphere, and
unconsciously reveals the great gulf which had already been fixed
between the one and the other, together with the aristocrat's
supercilious astonishment that "that class of society" is in some
respects quite as desirable as his own:
This New Year's eve there was a ball at the Hotel (Col.
Henry's), a very decently conducted and a very respectable
assemblage of the worthy mechanics and that class of society.
I was present, and would not wish to see better conduct,
better dress, and better looking Ladies!!! There was perfect
neatness of dress, without as much Indian finery as I have
seen where they suppose they know better.
Another glimpse into the depth of the social gulf is obtained in the
back pages of Isaac Cooper's diary, where he records his accounts for
wages with the household servants. There is this entry, signed by the
humble cross-mark of Betsey Wallby, who "came to work on March 20, 1815,
at one dollar a week":
March 20, 1816--By one year's services, faithfully and orderly
performed--free from Yankee dignity, and ideas of
Liberty--which is insolence only. $52.00.
On New Year's day, 1818, death came to Isaac Cooper at Edgewater, and he
was laid at rest in Christ churchyard with the humblest pioneers of the
hamlet. Only for a little more than four years had he enjoyed the home
which he established at Edgewater.
In Isaac Cooper's diary, by another hand, these words were added:
September, 1823--Sold our house. Necessity compelled us.
Shortly before the house was vacated by the family of Isaac Cooper, the
garden of Edgewater was the scene of a pretty romance. Isaac Cooper's
second daughter, Elizabeth Fenimore, was a child of rare beauty, and as
she began to grow toward womanhood became renowned for wit and
loveliness. Strictly guarded by the conventional proprieties, Elizabeth
made glorious excursions into the realm of fancy, where errant knights
are ever in search of fair ladies to deliver them from castle dungeons.
Edgewater, with the freedom of its garden, was a pleasant sort of
prison, but Elizabeth was not less gratified when the knight of her
dreams actually appeared in the person of a young college student who
was spending his summer vacation in Cooperstown--Samuel Wootton Beall, a
native of Maryland. Summer evenings in Edgewater garden passed quickly
away, and there came a night of farewell, for on the next day young
Beall must return to his college, and to long months of Greek, Latin,
and mathematics. On that night the young man brought a Methodist
minister into the garden with him. There was a mysterious signal.
Elizabeth Fenimore Cooper glided out of the house, and joined the two in
darkness. They stood beneath the locust tree which rose just east of the
front steps, while in low voices the young lovers took their vows, and
the parson pronounced them man and wife. The bride immediately crept
back into the house, thrilling with her secret, while the bridegroom
went his way, and on the next day was gone.
Nothing was said of the wedding until Samuel Beall was graduated from
college, and returned to Cooperstown to claim his wife. Beyond the
extreme youth of the couple, there was really no objection to the match.
Mrs. Cooper was astonished at the announcement, but gave her blessing to
the union. Only one condition she exacted. Shocked at the informality of
their wedding, she required them to be remarried with the full rites of
the Church.
Young Beall and his wife went West, where he prospered, and, returning
to Cooperstown in 1836, purchased Woodside as their residence. After a
few years at Woodside, they settled once more in the West.
In Edgewater garden the locust that sheltered the secret marriage was
long known as the Bridal Tree, and grew to lofty size. In the winter of
1908 the first fall of snow came upon the wings of a great wind. During
the night the big locust fell crashing to the ground, and in the morning
was found covered with a mantle of virgin snow, gleaming white like a
bridal veil.
In 1828, Edgewater having passed into the hands of a company which had
organized to establish a seminary for girls, the house was rearranged
for such occupancy. The numerals which then marked the rooms of the
students are still to be seen on the doorways of the top floor. The
school was a financial failure, and in 1834 the trustees sold Edgewater
as a summer residence to Theodore Keese of New York, who, eight years
previously, had married the eldest daughter of George Pomeroy and Ann
Cooper, sister of Isaac Cooper. Thus the property came back into the
family of the original owner.
In 1836 Mr. and Mrs. Keese came to Cooperstown to live, and their
eight-year-old son, George Pomeroy Keese, then began a residence at
Edgewater that continued for seventy-four years. In 1849, at the age of
twenty-one years, he brought to Edgewater his bride, Caroline Adriance
Foote, a daughter of Surgeon Lyman Foote, of the United States Army. In
this house their eight children were born, and all of these, with the
exception of one who died in infancy, lived to celebrate the sixtieth
wedding anniversary which their parents commemorated with a notable
gathering of friends at Edgewater in the autumn of 1909. Living to old
age in perfect health of body and mind Mr. and Mrs. Keese made Edgewater
a famous centre of hospitality.
During this long residence in Cooperstown Pomeroy Keese stood in the
forefront of its affairs, and came to occupy a unique position in the
life of the village. In boyhood, as the grand-nephew of Fenimore Cooper,
he was brought into close contact with the novelist, and at the
beginning of the twentieth century was one of the few residents of the
village who distinctly recalled the famous writer's personality. He was
best known to the business world as president for nearly forty years of
the Second National Bank of Cooperstown, but the qualities that made him
so interesting a figure lay rather in the many avocations of his life.
He was senior warden of Christ Church at the time of his death, and had
been a member of its vestry for more than half a century. Of thirteen
successive rectors of Christ Church he had known all but Father Nash,
the first. For the old village church, surrounded with its quaint tombs
and overshadowing pines, he had a love that seemed about to call forth
the response of personality from things inanimate.
On the streets of Cooperstown, in his later years, G. Pomeroy Keese was
a picturesque and characteristic figure. His face seemed weather-beaten
rather than old; his eye was like that of a sailor, with a focus for
distant horizons; the style of thin side-whisker affected by a former
generation gave full play to every expression of his countenance. It was
a common sight, of a winter's day, to glimpse his slight and dapper
form with quick step ambling to the post-office, while, quite innocent
of overcoat, he compromised with the frosty air by clasping his hands,
one over the other, across his chest, as a means of keeping warm!
Pomeroy Keese was somewhat contemptuous toward mufflers, arctics, and
other toggery which Otsego winters imposed upon his neighbors. He seemed
immune against the assault of climatic rigors. His attitude toward the
weather was confidential, for he was the most weatherwise of men. He
kept a daily record of the weather, with accurate meteorological data,
for more than half a century, and for many years furnished the local
official figures for the United States weather bureau. From his
experience he originated the theory that, while seasons from year to
year appear to differ widely in their character, the temperature and
precipitation within the compass of each year actually reach the same
general average. It seemed to cause him real annoyance when a period of
weather departed too widely from the usual average, yet if a cold snap
or hot spell was generous enough to break all previous records his
enthusiasm was boundless.
An equally substantial though smaller house that antedated Edgewater by
a few years was erected in the summer of 1802 by John Miller as a farm
house. It was built of bricks, and was the second building in the place
that was not constructed of wood. It stands at the southwest corner of
Pine Street and Lake Street, facing the latter, and the dense evergreen
hedge which surrounds the house seems to hold it aloof from the later
growth of the village. It is said that the house is haunted, for not
long after it was built a tenant of the place murdered his wife by
smothering her with a pillow in her bedroom, and for many years it was
rumored that occupants of the house occasionally were terrified by
muffled sounds of moaning as of one in mortal agony.
[Illustration: _C. A. Schneider_
RESIDENCE OF WILLIAM H. AVERELL AND JUDGE PRENTISS]
The building referred to in Isaac Cooper's diary as "Morrell's and
Prentiss' house" includes the two brick houses on Main Street which
stand conjoined just east of the Village Club and Library. Judge
Morrell went West, and his house, the more westerly of the two, became
better known as the property of its later owner, William Holt Averell,
whose descendants continued to occupy it a century after him. The
adjoining house, built by Col. Prentiss, remained after his death in
possession of his family, and his daughter, Mrs. Charlotte Prentiss
Browning, lived to celebrate its centennial.
Col. John H. Prentiss, for more than half a century a resident, and for
forty years editor of the _Freeman's Journal_, was a notable figure in
Cooperstown. Under his editorial management the _Freeman's Journal_
became a strong political organ, and exercised an influence that made
Otsego one of the stanchest Democratic counties in the State of New
York. Col. Prentiss represented his district in Congress during the four
years of Van Buren's administration, having been reelected at the
expiration of his first term. It was at this time that his next door
neighbor, William Holt Averell, was a candidate for Congress on the Whig
ticket. The first returns indicated that Averell had been elected, and
there was a noisy demonstration by Averell's supporters in front of his
residence, bringing him forth for a speech which was received with great
enthusiasm. The returns came in slowly in those days, and a day or two
had passed before it was learned that Prentiss had been elected, and his
doorstep became the scene of another jubilation. According to the
recollections of some this seesawing of returns occurred more than once,
and the two neighbors, whose friendship was not interrupted by their
political antagonisms, each joined in the demonstration in honor of the
other.
A large part of the work of publishing his newspaper was done by Judge
Prentiss himself. Besides being sole editor, he attended to the
financial department, and for forty years, except while in Congress, he
gave his personal attention in the printing office to the mechanical
department. A later writer recalls often seeing Col. Prentiss in the
press-room, with coat off, sleeves rolled up, either inking the type
with two large soft balls, or pulling at the lever of the old Ramage
press. He describes him as "an industrious, energetic man, a little
inclined to aristocratic bearing, but open, frank and cordial with his
friends."
The last appearance of Col. Prentiss in public life, from which he had
previously kept aloof for several years, was as a delegate to the
Democratic State convention which was held in Albany on February 1,
1861. In that body of distinguished and able men, of which he was one of
the vice-presidents, he attracted much attention, and the question was
frequently asked by those in attendance, referring to Col. Prentiss,
"Who is that large, fine-looking old gentleman, with white, flowing
hair?"[94]
Colonel Prentiss's next door neighbor, William Holt Averell, son of
James Averell, Jr., was for more than half a century one of the most
prominent citizens of the village, who did more perhaps than any other
for its financial development. He was one of the first directors and for
many years president of the Otsego County Bank, the original of the
present First National Bank, and for which the building across the way
from his house, now used as the Clark Estate office, was erected in
1831. As he issued every day from the doorway of this building with its
portico of fluted columns, his figure was exactly such as the
imagination might now devise as most in harmony with the surroundings;
for in his youth Averell was extremely punctilious in his dress, being a
very handsome man, and for many years it was his custom to wear a white
beaver hat, and ruffled shirt, with ruffles at the cuffs that set off to
good advantage his small and delicate hands. He did all his reading and
work at night. Those who passed his windows at a late hour were sure to
glimpse him bending over his desk, and nobody else in Cooperstown went
to bed late enough to see his lamp extinguished, for the servants often
found him still at work when they came to summon him to breakfast in the
morning. He lived long enough to be regarded as a gentleman of the old
school, positive and dogmatic in his opinions, which were usually those
of a minority, but which he defended with the resourcefulness of a
brilliant and well-trained mind.
In 1813 Henry Phinney, one of the two sons of Elihu Phinney, began the
construction of the large brick house on Chestnut street now known as
"Willowbrook," and completed it three years later. In Cooper's
_Chronicles of Cooperstown_ several houses "of respectable dimensions
and of genteel finish" are mentioned as having been erected between the
years of 1820 and 1835. Among these is the house of Elihu Phinney, the
younger son of the pioneer, which still stands on Pioneer Street
opposite to the Universalist church. It is of brick, partly surrounded
by a veranda, and exquisite in many details of construction, much of the
interior woodwork being notable in excellence of chaste design.
During this same general period several houses of stone were erected
that still remain among the most solid and attractive in Cooperstown.
William Nichols built Greystone, the fine old residence that stands at
the southwest corner of Fair and Lake streets; Ellory Cory erected the
house on the west side of Pioneer Street near Lake Street; John Hannay
set a new standard for the western part of the village when he put up on
the north side of Main Street, not far from Chestnut Street, the
dignified residence now occupied by the Mohican Club. In 1827 the low
structures of stone which stand on the east side of Pioneer Street,
between Main and Church street, were erected; and in 1828 the
three-story stone building on the north side of Main Street, midway
between Pioneer and Chestnut streets, was an important addition to the
business section of the village.
[Illustration: _Forrest D. Coleman_
WOODSIDE HALL]
A country-house of classic poise and symmetry was designed in 1829, when
Eben B. Morehouse purchased a few acres from the Bowers estate, on the
side of Mount Vision, at the point where the old state road made its
first turn to ascend the mountain, and there erected the dwelling
called Woodside Hall. For many years an Indian wigwam stood on the site
now occupied by Woodside. This old stone house, set on the hillside
against a background of dense pine forest, has an air of singular
dignity and repose. Standing at the head of the ascending road which
continues the main street of the village, Woodside, with its row of
columns gleaming white amid the living green of the forest, may be seen
from almost any point along the main thoroughfare of Cooperstown. It is
approached from the highway by a rise of ground, where the Egyptian
gate-tower adds a fanciful interest to the entrance, with glimpses of
the terraced lawn and garden that climb toward the house. In summer, on
gaining the porch, one looks back upon a mass of foliage beneath which
Cooperstown lies concealed, except for a vista that traverses the length
of the village and rises to the pines that crown the hills beyond; while
a glance toward the north sweeps across the surface of the lake to its
western shore. The woods that come down almost to the house are composed
of pines and hemlocks of splendid proportions and great antiquity,
lending a shadowy atmosphere of mystery to the environs of Woodside
Hall.
The charm and grace of this residence seem to reflect certain qualities
in the character of Judge Eben B. Morehouse, who designed it as his
home. For he is described as a man of rare personality and unusual
culture, whose intellectual ability gave him exceptional rank in his
profession. He was district attorney in 1829, member of Assembly in
1831, and became a justice of the Supreme Court of the State in 1847.
Mrs. Morehouse, a daughter of Dr. Fuller, one of the pioneer physicians
of Cooperstown, was a woman of many social gifts, and established
traditions of hospitality and festivity at Woodside.
In 1836 Judge Morehouse suffered reverses of fortune, and when he had
sold Woodside to Samuel W. Beall, took up his residence in a modest
cottage in the village. It was said of Judge Morehouse that, during this
period, in walking about the village streets, he was careful never to
raise his eyes toward Woodside, and, if occasion brought him in the
vicinity of his old home, he passed it with averted face. After a few
years he was able, to his great joy, to buy Woodside back again, and he
continued residence there until his death in 1849.
[Illustration: _Walter C. Stokes_
THE GATE-TOWER AT WOODSIDE]
A President of the United States was once lost in the grounds of
Woodside. It was in 1839, when Judge Morehouse gave a large evening
reception for President Martin Van Buren. After the reception, when the
guests were departed, Mr. Van Buren and a friend who accompanied him
became separated from their companions, and lost their way in attempting
to find the gate-tower. For a long time they wandered and groped about
in the darkness of the grounds, finally returning to the house for a
guide and a lantern, just as the family were going to bed.
In 1856 Mrs. Morehouse sold Woodside to the Hon. Joseph L. White, whose
family entertained generously and delightfully. White was a
distinguished lawyer of New York, and one of the most famous stump
orators of his time. He became identified with the early days of the
Nicaragua Canal project. While at work on the isthmus he was killed by
the bullet of an assassin.
After the death of White, the place was bought by John F. Scott, whose
family were among the earliest settlers in Springfield at the head of
the lake.
In 1895 Woodside was purchased by Walter C. Stokes of New York. Mr. and
Mrs. Stokes, occupying Woodside as a summer home, gave it new
embellishment, and revived the traditions of its hospitality.
[Illustration: SWANSWICK]
At the extreme northwest margin of the lake there is a little cove, with
a landing, near which one ascends from the shore by means of a swaying
board walk over swampy ground, where flags and forget-me-nots bloom
luxuriantly during summer days, and fireflies hold carnival at night. At
the top of the slope stands "Swanswick," a cottage-like and rambling
house whose rear windows look down the lake, while the low veranda in
front opens upon a lawn and quiet lily-padded pond, a mill-pond
originally, for near at hand are the falls that operated Low's mills, in
the days of the pioneers. Swanswick stands upon the site of a house
erected in 1762, the first ever inhabited by a white man on the shore of
Otsego Lake. The present house was built after the Revolution by Colonel
Richard Cary, one of Washington's aides, and the place was called Rose
Lawn. General Washington was a guest here when he made his visit in
Otsego in 1783, and a ball was given in his honor. The daughter of the
house was Anne Low Cary who married Richard Cooper, and after his death
became the wife of George Hyde Clarke, who built Hyde Hall. She
inherited Rose Lawn from her mother, and gave it to her son, Alfred
Cooper Clarke. The latter was childless, and left the place to his
nephew, Leslie Pell, who belonged to the well known Pell family of New
York and Newport, and who assumed legally the name of Clarke.
Leslie Pell-Clarke married the charming Henrietta Temple, a cousin of
Henry James the novelist, and of William James, the psychologist. He
changed the name of the place to Swanswick, and lived there from the
early 'seventies until his death in 1904. The Pell-Clarkes made
Swanswick known as a haven of good cheer for miles around. The old
house, simple in its lines and modest in proportions, had an air of
singular distinction. The library in the west wing, with its curious
skylight, and bookcases well stocked with the classic favorites of an
English country gentleman, was a revelation to the connoisseur of old
volumes; and the whole house was full of quaintly delightful surprises.
It was the master of the house himself who gave to the place its
atmosphere. He was ideally the centre of things, especially when he sat
in the library reading aloud from some favorite author, which he did
always with perfect justice of expression, and in a voice of unrivalled
melody. He was a lover of outdoor life, and laid out on his own property
at the head of the lake the golf grounds now managed by the Otsego Golf
Club, the oldest links of any in America that have been maintained on
their original course. Mr. and Mrs. Pell-Clarke were reckoned and
beloved as partly belonging to Cooperstown, for they drove down from the
head of the lake almost daily, drawn by the whitish speckled horses,
Pepper and Salt, that everybody came to know. Pell-Clarke had the frame
and bearing of an athlete. Tall, with clean-cut features, he was one of
the handsomest men of his time, a noble and brilliant soul, an exuberant
and fascinating personality.
A country-seat that may be described as unique in all America, Hyde
Hall, lies nestled in the haunches of the Sleeping Lion, toward the head
of Otsego Lake. "The Sleeping Lion" is Cooperstown's nickname for Mount
Wellington, the wooded hill that stretches along the northern margin of
the Glimmerglass. The formal name was given to Mount Wellington by the
builder of Hyde Hall, in honor of his famous classmate at Eton, in
England. When this mountain is viewed from Cooperstown the aptness of
the more familiar, descriptive term--the Sleeping Lion--becomes evident.
In spite of its distance from the village, Hyde Hall has its place not
only in the view but in the story of Cooperstown, for its proprietors
have been closely associated with the life at the southern end of the
lake.
[Illustration: _J. W. Tucker_
SHADOW BROOK]
The grounds of Hyde Hall lie toward the head of Otsego, on the eastern
side, where Hyde Bay increases the width of the lake by a generous sweep
of rounded shore. Into this bay from the east flows Shadow Brook, the
most picturesque stream of water in the region, whose pellucid current
reflects clear images of foliage and sky, and offers a favorite resort,
in shaded nooks, to the drifting canoes of lovers. In a clearing of the
woods farther northward along the shore, and at a good elevation, stands
Hyde Hall, facing the southeast across the bay. It is massively
constructed of large blocks of stone, and seems designed for a race of
giants. The main part of the house, completed in 1815, is two stories
high, in the colonial style, and over two hundred feet in length. In
1832 the facade was added, in the Empire style, with two splendid rooms
on either side of a large entrance hall. The doorways and windows, as
well as the chambers into which they open, are planned on a big scale.
Solidity of construction appears throughout the building, where even the
partition walls are of brick or stone. The masons, carpenters, and
mechanics who built Hyde Hall lived on the premises while the house was
under construction. They quarried and cut the stone from adjacent beds
of local limestone; they burnt the brick from clay found at the foot of
the hill; they cut the timber in the neighboring forest, and
manufactured all the windows, doors, and panel-work.
The house commands a superb view of the lake, and is surrounded by
beautiful old trees and forest land. Upwards of three thousand acres
belonging to Hyde Hall enclose it on all sides, and the residence is
approached by three private roads averaging over a mile in length.
Within the house, as one tries to visualize its spirit, from Trumbull's
portrait of the Duke of Wellington, which stands above the fireplace in
the great drawing-room, through rambling passages with glimpses of a
courtyard and alcoves and wings; up curved stairways to landings that
present unexpected steps down and steps up; along halls that beckon amid
dim lights to unrevealed recesses of space; down through kitchens where
huge pots and cauldrons reflect the glow of living coals, while shadowy
outlines of spits and cranes are lifted amid a smoke of savory odors;
deeper down into the spacious wine-cellars darkly festooned with
cobwebs, and chill as the family burying-vault where vines and snakes
squirm through the bars of its iron gates beneath the hill,--out of
these fleeting impressions rises the atmosphere of an old-world
tradition strangely created amid the original wilds of Otsego at the
beginning of the nineteenth century. It is a house that should be
ashamed not to harbor romance, and mystery, and ghosts.
Hyde Hall has the air of an English country-seat, with squire and
tenantry, transplanted to the soil of an alien democracy. To comprehend
its place in the life of Cooperstown it must be regarded as the symbol
of certain ancestral traditions toward which good Americans are expected
to be indifferent. George Clarke, who was colonial governor of New York
from 1737 to 1744, came to America shortly after being graduated at
Oxford, having received an appointment to colonial office from Walpole,
then prime minister of England. He came from Swanswick, near Bath. After
a few years' residence in New York he met and married Anne Hyde, the
daughter of Edward Hyde, royal governor of North Carolina. She
subsequently became the heiress of Hyde, in England, in her own right,
and by the old English law of coverture, George Clarke became the owner
of the estate. The lady died during his term of office as governor of
the colony, and was buried, with a public funeral, in the vault of Lord
Cornburg in Trinity church, New York.
George Clarke, the builder of Hyde Hall on Otsego Lake, was a
great-grandson of the colonial governor, a part of whose large estate of
lands in America he inherited. He came to America in 1791, to comply
with the statute requiring all English born subjects who were minors
during the War for Independence, and who owned lands in this State
subject to confiscation, to become American citizens. After several
trips across the water George Clarke decided, in 1809, to make his abode
in the New World, and leaving his home, Hyde Hall, at Hyde, in Cheshire,
he came to America, married as his second wife Anne Cary, the widow of
Richard Cooper, brother of James Fenimore Cooper, and in 1813 began the
building of his new Hyde Hall.
The property originally controlled from Hyde Hall was of vast extent. At
an early day George Clarke encountered much opposition from his
tenantry. The tenure by which they held their lands was not in
accordance with the views of American settlers. The estates were leased
out, some as durable leases, at a small rent, and others for three
lives, or twenty-one years. The settlers disliked the relation of
landlord and tenant, and Clarke was frequently annoyed by demands which
his high English notions of strict right would not allow him to concede.
His prejudices were strong, and if he believed anyone intended to wrong
him, he was stubborn in resisting any invasion of his rights. Hence
there were many collisions between landlord and tenant in the early days
of Hyde Hall. The warm aspect of his nature, which disarmed the enmities
of tenants, appeared in his social qualities. He was companionable, gave
good dinners, conversed well, told a good story, delighted in a good
one from others, and when in a gay mood would sing an excellent song,
generally one that he had brought with him from Merrie England.
In his habits and sentiments Clarke was thoroughly English. He delighted
to have his dinner got up in old English style, with the best of roast
beef and mutton, garnished with such delicacies as the lake and country
afforded, and just such as his countrymen, who knew how to appreciate
good things, would order, were they the caterers; and in these
particulars he hardly ever failed to excel. Not only were his household
arrangements in this style, but he was English in his religious views;
unless those matters were held in conformity to the Anglican Church they
were not acceptable.
When Clarke's son George, who afterward succeeded to the estate, was
baptized, in 1824, Father Nash officiated, and several other clergymen
of the Episcopal Church were in attendance, besides some guests from
Utica, and many from Cooperstown and the surrounding country who had
come to Hyde Hall for the occasion. The christening was performed with
suitable gravity, and in due time the dinner was announced, which was in
the substantial excellent style that Clarke knew well how to order for
such a festivity. The host was talkative and charming; as the dinner
proceeded the guests became increasingly good-humored, exceedingly well
satisfied with him and with themselves. "In due time the ladies and
clergy retired," says Levi Beardsley,[95] who was present at the feast,
"and then the guests were effectually plied with creature comforts."
[Illustration: HYDE HALL]
Nothing seemed more delightful to the first proprietor of Hyde Hall than
thus to sit in company with congenial men at the flowing bowl; to begin
in the enjoyment of rational conversation; to discuss literature and art
and statecraft; to warm up to the telling of rare stories and the
singing of good songs; and, in the end, to get his guests, or a portion
of them, "under the table." On this occasion, after partaking of the
viands and good cheer, the guests left the table in the early part of
the evening, and repaired to the plateau in front of the house, where
some of them ran foot-races in the dark, with no great credit to
themselves as pedestrians. As they were going back into the house, one
of the guests stumbled and fell into the hall, where he lay for some
time, obstructing the closing of the outer door. One of the servants
came to Clarke, who had retired for the night, and asked what he should
do with the large gentleman who had fallen in the doorway, and was
unable to rise. "Drag him in, and put him under the table" was the order
which was immediately complied with, and under the table the fallen
guest remained until morning.
The builder of Hyde Hall died in 1835, and his only American born son,
George Clarke, succeeded him in his American estate, thus becoming at
the age of twenty-one years the largest landed proprietor in the State
of New York. The patents which he held included 1,000 acres in Fulton
county, 6,000 acres in Dutchess county, 7,000 acres in Oneida, 12,000 in
Montgomery, besides 16,000 acres in Otsego county, and a valuable tract
in Greene county including one-half of the village of Catskill. George
Clarke married Anna Maria Gregory, daughter of Dudley S. Gregory, the
wealthiest man in Jersey City, and their married life was begun in great
prosperity, with a town house on Fifth Avenue in New York, in addition
to the country-seat on Otsego Lake.
Clarke had three span of fast horses, and was a familiar figure in
Cooperstown when he drove to service at Christ Church every Sunday, and
frequently came to the village for the transaction of business, or to
meet his friends, making nothing of the seven mile drive from his home.
In his younger days Clarke was quite celebrated as a beau and dandy, and
at one time was said to be the best dressed man in New York; but in his
later years he became notorious for his carelessness of attire, and few
of his tenants wore a cheaper costume. In this matter he was indifferent
to public opinion, and went about looking like an old-fashioned farmer.
In winter he covered himself with a buffalo coat that had areas of bare
hide worn through the fur; in summer his favorite habiliment was a linen
duster. For Fifth Avenue in New York he dressed in the same clothes that
served him in Cooperstown. When his friends ventured to remonstrate, he
put them off by saying that dress was a matter of indifference alike in
city or country. "In Cooperstown," said he, "everybody knows me; in New
York nobody knows me." When he had become accustomed to a suit of
clothes, he was as loath to change them as to alter his friendships or
politics. As he was plain in dress, so he was simple and abstemious in
habits of life. His bare living probably cost as little as that of any
working-man in the country.
George Clarke had an insatiable land-hunger. In looking after his wide
estates he allowed the Hyde Hall Property to become dilapidated, and
mortgaged the land that he owned to buy more. His land gave him great
yields of hops at the height of that industry in Otsego, but he was
always inclined to buy more hops rather than to sell. Little by little,
mortgages were foreclosed; Hyde Hall fell into decay; and in 1889 George
Clarke died insolvent.
Mrs. Clarke, in her youth, was said to be one of the most beautiful
women of her day. Those who knew her in later years can testify to an
abiding charm of personality which time could never efface. Hyde Hall in
summer she loved, but always the most perfect place in the world to her
was Monte Carlo, and there for many years she passed the winter,
becoming at last the oldest member of the American colony, having
crossed the ocean thirty times from America to Southern France. An old
lady tireless of life and all its activities, sprightly in manner,
brilliant in conversation, graceful in gesture, gay in dress, decked in
jewelry that scintillated with her quick motions, shod in tiny,
high-heeled slippers that clicked the measure of an alert step, and
sometimes permitted a flash of bright silk stockings; a lover of life
and gaiety and beauty to whom Monte Carlo seemed the most homelike spot
on earth--her reign as mistress in her younger days gave a color of its
own to the story of Hyde Hall.
When George Clarke died in 1889, his son, George Hyde Clarke, having
been graduated at the Columbia Law School, had for several years made
his home at Hyde Hall, and had restored the place to something like its
original condition. He married Mary Gale Carter, granddaughter of
William Holt Averell of Cooperstown, and it was through her inheritance
that the old home was saved to the family.
Hyde Clarke inherited some of the English traditions of his grandfather.
He was sent to England at the age of fourteen years, and educated at the
famous Harrow school. In spite of his later devotion to legal studies,
and his admission to the bar of the State of New York, his real tastes
inclined to agriculture. Having been trained as a scholar, he added
farming to his accomplishments, and when he settled down at Hyde Hall it
was as a son of the soil. For the rest of his life, being at once a
gentleman and a farmer, he was the better in both characters for being
so much in each. The combination of birth and practical aptitude gave
him a position quite unique in Cooperstown and the surrounding country.
He was a man of wide reading and culture, an exceedingly good talker,
and a delightful social companion. He was at the same time respected as
a farmer among farmers, who knew him well, and called him by his
Christian name. It is related that shortly after her marriage to Hyde
Clarke, the stately and distinguished Mrs. Clarke was complaining to her
butcher in Cooperstown that he had sent her poor meat. "Very sorry, Mrs.
Clarke," replied the butcher "but 'twas one of Hyde's own critters!"
[Illustration: HYDE CLARKE
From the portrait by Ellen G. Emmet]
Hyde Clarke had certain mannerisms that added interest to his
personality. He would sometimes sit silent in company, without the
slightest effort to contribute to the conversation; but when he chose to
talk, he talked well and informingly, and it was a delight to hear him.
In a voice well-modulated and even, he selected his words with care,
sometimes pausing for the precise expression, which he brought out with
a quiet emphasis that made its exactness impressive. Repeatedly in
conversation he seemed about to smile, or there was a movement behind
the drooping moustache and in the eyes that suggested merriment, which
quickly disappeared when one began to smile in return, leaving one with
a foolish sense of having smiled at nothing. His deliberation of speech
was significant of his carefulness of thought and judgment, and he was
always leisurely in action. If he invited a guest to dine with him at
seven o'clock, he was quite likely himself not to reach home until
seven-thirty. A tall, calm man, he had the "British stare" to
perfection, which in him was not an affectation, but arose from an
entire lack of self-consciousness, and from moments of
absent-mindedness. He could stare one out of countenance without
intending rudeness; he could ignore the social amenities when he chose,
without giving offense; while he was the only man in Otsego who could
enter a lady's drawing-room in farming togs and with a hat on, without
seeming less than well-bred.
His arrival at the services of Christ Church on the Sunday mornings of
winter became characteristic. Always late for the service, and often
coming in after the sermon had begun, he walked deliberately forward up
the main alley, clad in the great fur coat which had served him for the
cold drive from Hyde Hall. Arrived at his pew, the front one at the
left, he would stand there while he slowly removed his coat, meantime
gazing curiously at the preacher, as if wondering what the text might
have been. Still standing, his hand described circles over his head
while he unreeled the long muffler wrapped about his throat. Then,
turning about, he would give a wide stare at the congregation, produce
his handkerchief, and with a trumpet-blast sit down to compose himself
for the rest of the sermon.
Hyde Clarke was exactly the man to have lived in what Levi Beardsley
called the "Baronial establishment" of Hyde Hall, amid broad acres of
wooded hill, and farm, and pasture. Besides being a practical farmer and
hop-grower, he was a leader among politicians of the better sort in the
Democratic party of the county and State. Through many avenues of
interest he reached all sides of life, and gained experiences that saved
his culture from dilettanteism, and made him a man among men, a true
democrat. In his judgments of men, he was big enough to overlook the
little imperfections that often conceal a fundamental soundness of
character; he saw the good in all, and spoke evil of none. He had
friendships among people of all sorts and conditions. Nor did he limit
his friendship to the human race; he knew horses and cows and dogs. He
loved all moods of nature, and faced all kinds of weather.
Hyde Hall, in the first century of its existence, measured the lives of
three men, passing from father to son, and leaving its traditions to the
great-grandson of the builder, another George Hyde Clarke, who, in 1915,
married Emily Borie Ryerson, a daughter of Arthur Ryerson of Chicago, a
gentleman affectionately remembered as the host of "Ringwood" at the
head of the lake, and mourned for his untimely death at sea, in the loss
of the _Titanic_.
[Illustration: A WEDDING-DAY AT HYDE]
Hyde Hall is at its best as the centre of a function, crowded with
guests, buzzing with conversation, while the company overflows from the
house to the lawn, presenting a kaleidoscope of color in the shifting
throng that moves to and fro in the spacious foreground of the venerable
mansion. There are those to whom one scene stands out as typical of Hyde
Hall in its glory: a brilliant autumn afternoon in 1907, the wedding day
of the daughter of the house; a picturesque concourse of wedding guests
upon the lawn before the doorway; a sudden lifting of all eyes to the
balcony above the portico, where the bride appears, clad in her wedding
gown, stands radiant, with her bridal bouquet poised aloft, and flings
it to the bridesmaids grouped below.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 94: _History of Otsego County_, 1877, p. 285.]
[Footnote 95: _Reminiscences_, from which the description of Clarke is
taken.]
CHAPTER XIII
THE BIRTHPLACE OF BASE BALL
The game of Base Ball was invented and first played in Cooperstown in
1839. Few statements of historical fact can be supported by the decision
of a commission of experts especially appointed to examine the evidence
and render a verdict, but in fixing the origin of Base Ball it is
exactly this solemn form of procedure that has placed the matter beyond
doubt.
In 1905 a friendly controversy arose, as to the origin of Base Ball,
between A. G. Spalding, for many years famous as a patron of the sport,
and Henry Chadwick, fondly known as the "Father of Base Ball." Chadwick
had long contended that the game of Base Ball derived its origin from
the old English pastime called "Rounders." Spalding took issue with him,
asserting that Base Ball is distinctively American, not only in
development, but in origin, and has no connection with "Rounders," nor
any other imported game. Each view enlisted its champions, and, when no
agreement could be reached, the contending forces decided to refer the
whole matter to a special Base Ball commission for full consideration
and final judgment.
The members of the commission were well known in the Base Ball world,
and some of them were men of national reputation in more serious fields
of achievement. They were A. G. Mills of New York, an enthusiastic ball
player before and during the Civil War; the Hon. Arthur P. Gorman,
former United States Senator from Maryland; the Hon. Morgan G. Bulkeley,
United States Senator from Connecticut, and formerly Governor of that
State; N. E. Young of Washington, D. C., a veteran ball player, and the
first secretary of the National Base Ball League; Alfred J. Reach of
Philadelphia, and George Wright of Boston, both well known business men,
and, in their day, famous ball players; James E. Sullivan of New York,
president of the Amateur Athletic Union. The last named acted as
secretary of the commission, and during three years conducted an
extensive correspondence in collecting data, as well as following up
various clues that might prove useful in the determination of the
question at issue. When all available evidence had been gathered the
whole matter was compiled and laid before the special commission, which
spent several months in going over the mass of data and argument.
Briefs were addressed to the commission, by Chadwick in support of his
contention that Base Ball was developed from the English game of
"Rounders," and by his opponents, who claimed a purely American origin
for the national game.
The similarity of the two games, Chadwick contended, was shown in the
fact that "Rounders" was played by two opposing sides of contestants,
on a special field of play, in which a ball was pitched or tossed to an
opposing batsman, who endeavored to strike the ball out into the field,
far enough to admit of his safely running the round of the bases before
the ball could be returned, so as to enable him to score a run, the side
scoring the most runs winning the game. This basic principle of
"Rounders," Chadwick contended, is identical with the fundamental
principle of Base Ball.
[Illustration: BASE BALL ON NATIVE SOIL]
Those who maintained the strictly American origin of Base Ball were
unwilling to admit a connection with any game of any other country,
except in so far as all games of ball have a certain similarity and
family relationship. It was pointed out that if the mere tossing or
handling of a ball, or striking it with some kind of stick, could be
accepted as the origin of our game, it would carry it far back of
Anglo-Saxon civilization--beyond Rome, beyond Greece, at least to the
palmy days of the Chaldean Empire. It was urged that in the early
'forties of the nineteenth century, when anti-British feeling still ran
high, it is most unlikely that a sport of British origin would have been
adopted in America. It was recalled that Col. James Lee, who was one of
the moving spirits in the original effort to popularize Base Ball in New
York City, and an organizer of the Knickerbocker Ball Club in 1845, had
asserted that the game of Base Ball was chosen instead of and in
opposition to Cricket on the very ground that the former was a purely
American game, and because of the then existing prejudice against
adopting any game of foreign invention. The champions of this theory of
American origin further contended that those who would derive Base Ball
from "Rounders" had totally ignored the earlier history of both games,
and had been misled by certain modern developments of "Rounders," as
more recently played in England, after many of the features of Base Ball
had been appropriated by the English game.
The American source of Base Ball is traced to the game of "One Old Cat,"
which was a favorite among the boys in old colonial times. This was
played by three boys--a thrower, a catcher, and a batsman. If the
batsman after striking the ball could run to a goal about thirty feet
distant, and return before the ball could be fielded, he counted one
tally. This game was developed to include more players. "Two Old Cat"
was played by four boys--two batsmen and two throwers--each alternating
as catchers, and a "tally" was made by the batsman hitting the ball and
exchanging places with the batsman at the opposite goal. In the same
manner "Three Old Cat" was played by six, and "Four Old Cat" by eight
boys. "Four Old Cat," with four batsmen and four throwers, each
alternating as catchers, was played on a square-shaped field, each side
of which was about forty feet long. All the batsmen were forced to run
to the next corner, or "goal," of this square whenever any one of the
batsmen struck the ball, but if the ball was caught on the fly or first
bound, or any one of the four batsmen was hit by a thrown ball between
goals, the runner was out, and his place was taken by the fielding
player who put him out.
From this game was developed "Town Ball," so called because it came to
be the popular game at all town meetings. This game accommodated a
greater number of players than "Four Old Cat," and resolved the
individual players into two competing sides. It placed one thrower in
the centre of the "Four Old Cat" square field, and had but one catcher.
The corners of the field were called first, second, third, and fourth
goals. The batsman's position was half way between first and fourth
goals. The number of players on a side was at first unlimited, but
"three out, all out," had already become the rule, allowing the fielding
side to take their innings at bat.
This method of alternating sides at bat was retained in the fully
developed game of Base Ball, and marks the most radical difference in
the ancestry of Base Ball and the English "Rounders." For the great
feature of "Rounders," from which it derives its name, is the "rounder"
itself, meaning that whenever one of the "in" side makes a complete
continuous circuit of the bases, or, as it would be called in Base Ball,
a "home run," he thereby reinstates the entire side; it then becomes
necessary to begin over again to retire each one of the side at bat,
until all of them have been put out. If Base Ball had been derived from
Rounders, it would be likely to show in its history some trace of this
distinctive feature of the English game. But no such feature has ever
appeared in Base Ball or its antecedents.[96]
All these considerations, with much else, entered into the discussions
of the special Base Ball commission. The final decision of the
commission was unanimous, and was published early in 1908.[97] The
decision covered two points, the first rejecting the alleged connection
with Rounders, the second fixing the time and place of the origin of
Base Ball in America. Under the first head the commission decided "that
Base Ball is of American origin, and has no traceable connection
whatever with 'Rounders,' or any other foreign game."
It was the second point in the decision, however, that added historic
lustre to a village already famous in romance. The commission decided
"that the first scheme for playing Base Ball, according to the best
evidence obtainable to date, was devised by Abner Doubleday at
Cooperstown, N. Y., in 1839."
Up to the time of this investigation it had been supposed that the
modern game of Base Ball originated in New York City, where the game was
played in a desultory sort of way by the young business men as early as
1842, although the first rules were not promulgated until the
organization of the old Knickerbocker Base Ball Club in 1845. But Abner
Graves, a mining engineer of Denver, convinced the commission that the
real origin of the game must be sought elsewhere.
Graves was a boy playfellow of Abner Doubleday in Cooperstown in 1839.
He was present when Doubleday outlined with a stick in the dirt the
present diamond-shaped Base Ball field, indicating the location of the
players in the field; and afterward saw him make a diagram of the field
on paper, with a crude pencil memorandum of the rules for his new game,
which he named "Base Ball." Although sixty-eight years had passed since
that time Graves distinctly remembered the incident, and recalled
playing the game, with other boys, under Abner Doubleday's direction.
Doubleday's game seems to have been an orderly and systematic
development of "Town Ball," in which confusion and collision among
players in attempting to catch the batted ball were frequent, and injury
due to this cause, or to the practice of putting out the runner by
hitting him with the ball, often occurred. Although Doubleday provided
for eleven men on a side, instead of nine, using four outfielders
instead of three, and stationing an extra shortstop between first and
second bases, he had nevertheless invented fundamental principles that
became characteristic of Base Ball. He had definitely limited the number
of contestants on each side, and had fixed the position of players in
the field, allotting certain territory to each, besides adding something
like the present method of putting out the baserunner to the old one of
"plugging" him with the ball. Under Doubleday's rules a runner not on
base might be put out by being touched with the ball in the hand of an
opposing player. From this was an easy step to the practice of throwing
the ball to a baseman to anticipate the runner. The new importance thus
given to the bases, in their relation to both fielders and batters,
justified for the game the name of "Base Ball."
"Abner Doubleday," writes Graves, "was several years older than I. In
1838 and 1839 I was attending the 'Frog Hollow' school south of the
Presbyterian church, while he was at school somewhere on the hill. I do
not know, neither is it possible for anyone to know, on what spot the
first game of Base Ball was played according to Doubleday's plan. He
went diligently among the boys in the town, and in several schools,
explaining the plan, and inducing them to play Base Ball in lieu of the
other games. Doubleday's game was played in a good many places around
town: sometimes in the old militia muster lot, or training ground, a
couple of hundred yards southeasterly from the Court House,[98] where
County Fairs were occasionally held; sometimes in Mr. Bennett's field
south of Otsego Academy;[99] at other times over in the Miller's Bay
neighborhood,[100] and up the lake.
"I remember one dandy, fine, rollicking game where men and big boys from
the Academy and other schools played up on Mr. Phinney's farm, a mile or
two up the west side of the lake,[101] when Abner Doubleday and Prof.
Green chose sides, and Doubleday's side beat Green's side badly.
Doubleday was captain and catcher for his side, and I think John Graves
and Elihu Phinney were the pitchers for the two sides. I wasn't in the
game, but stood close by Doubleday, and wanted Prof. Green to win. In
his first time at bat Prof. Green missed three consecutive balls. Abner
caught all three, then pounded Mr. Green on the back with the ball,
while they and all others were roaring with laughter, and yelling 'Prof.
is out!'"
It is of interest to recall that Abner Doubleday, the inventor of Base
Ball went from his school in Cooperstown to West Point, where he was
graduated in 1842, and served with distinction in the Civil War,
attaining to the rank of Major General. Base Ball, indeed, owes much of
its vogue to the United States Army, for it was played as a camp
diversion by the soldiers of the Civil War, who, during the years of
peace that followed, spread the fever of this pastime throughout the
length and breadth of the United States, and thus gave to the game its
national character.
[Illustration: THE ORIGINAL HOUSE AT APPLE HILL]
In 1908, at the time of the Base Ball Commission's decision that the
game originated at Cooperstown in 1839, there were several old residents
of the village whose recollections included that early period. On the
strength of their statements rests a probability that the Cooperstown
Classical and Military Academy, which was flourishing in 1839 under
Major William H. Duff, was the school attended by Doubleday. This would
be in accord with the recollection of Abner Graves that, in 1839,
Doubleday was "at school somewhere on the hill." This school was at
"Apple Hill," as it was called, in the grounds of the present
"Fernleigh," where the Clark residence was built and now stands. Owing
to the number of trees and the abrupt slope to the river, it is not
likely that a full-sized Base Ball game was ever played within these
grounds. But it is pleasant to fancy young Doubleday standing here,
surrounded by an eager crowd of boys, amid the golden sunlight and
greenery of long ago, as he traces on the earth with a stick his famous
diamond, and from these shades goes forth with his companions to begin
the national game of America.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 96: Opinion of John M. Ward, a famous player, afterward a
lawyer in New York City.]
[Footnote 97: _Spalding's Official Base Ball Guide_, 1908, p. 48.]
[Footnote 98: The Watkins place on Chestnut Street, opposite the Village
Hall, occupies this training ground, which extended east and south to
the rear of the buildings on Main Street, and included part of the
Phinney lot.]
[Footnote 99: The clergy house of St. Mary's Church occupies the site of
the Otsego Academy.]
[Footnote 100: The Country Club grounds.]
[Footnote 101: The present "Brookwood."]
CHAPTER XIV
FENIMORE COOPER IN THE VILLAGE
The childhood memories of James Fenimore Cooper were associated with the
village which his father had settled at the foot of Otsego Lake, for
hither he was brought a babe in arms, and remained until, at the age of
nine years, he was sent to Albany to be tutored by the rector of St.
Peter's Church. After his career at Yale and in the Navy, he was married
in 1811 to Susan de Lancey, and brought his bride to Cooperstown on
their honeymoon. Three years later they came back to take up their
residence at "Fenimore" just out of the village, on Otsego Lake, but,
after three seasons of farming, circumstances once more drew Fenimore
Cooper away from Cooperstown.
It was in 1834, when he had become a novelist of international fame, and
had lived for seven years in Europe, that Cooper, at the age of
forty-five years, took steps to make a permanent home in the village of
his childhood. Otsego Hall, which his father had built upon the site now
marked by the statue of the Indian Hunter, in the Cooper Grounds, was
repaired and partly remodeled, and here Fenimore Cooper dwelt until his
death in 1851.
[Illustration: FENIMORE]
Two names of later renown are connected with Fenimore Cooper's
reconstruction of Otsego Hall. Among the artisans employed was a lad of
seventeen years apprenticed as a joiner, Erastus D. Palmer, who already
had begun to attract attention as a wood-carver, and afterward became
famous as a sculptor. While the alterations were in progress Cooper had
as his guest in Cooperstown Samuel F. B. Morse, who assisted him in
carrying out his ideas for the reconstruction of the Hall, and drew the
designs which gave it more the style of an English country house.[102]
The local gossips said that Morse aspired to the hand of his friend's
eldest daughter, Susan Augusta Fenimore, then twenty-one years of age,
but that Cooper had no mind to yield so fair a prize to an impecunious
painter, a widower, and already forty-three years old. Morse was at this
time experimenting with the telegraph instrument which was afterward to
bring him wealth and such fame as an inventor as to overshadow his
reputation as an artist.
[Illustration: OTSEGO HALL]
The Cooper Grounds, now kept as a public park by the Clark Estate,
include the property that belonged to Fenimore Cooper. Otsego Hall,
which was destroyed by fire in 1852, after the novelist's death, must
be imagined at the centre of the grounds, where its outward appearance,
as well as the arrangement of its interior, may be reconstructed by the
fancy from the wooden model made from a design by G. Pomeroy Keese, and
now to be seen in the village museum. Cooper's favorite garden-seat
exists in facsimile in its original situation at the southeast corner of
the grounds.
When in 1834 the old mansion of the founder of Cooperstown began once
more to be occupied it was a matter of great interest to the people of
the village. Many of them well remembered Fenimore Cooper and his bride
when, twenty years before, they had lived at Fenimore. They recalled the
former resident as James Cooper, for it was not until 1826 that he
adopted the middle name, in compliance with a request which his mother
had made that he should use her family name.[103] Twenty years had made
many changes in Cooperstown, and there was a large proportion of
residents who knew Fenimore Cooper only from his writings and by
reputation. Therefore when he came back to dwell in the home of his
youth he was regarded by many almost as a newcomer in the neighborhood,
and to his family as well as to himself a rather cautious welcome was
given. It had to be admitted at the outset that the changes which
Fenimore Cooper made in Otsego Hall were disapproved by some of the
villagers. They did not like the foreign air which the old house now
began to give itself with its battlements and gothic elaborations. Here
was the first muttering of the storm that clouded the later years of
Fenimore Cooper.
[Illustration: JAMES FENIMORE COOPER]
Cooper's personal appearance was in accord with the strong individuality
of his character. He was of massive, compact form, six feet in height,
over two hundred pounds in weight and rather portly in later years, of
firm and aristocratic bearing, a commanding figure: "a very castle of a
man" was the phrase which Washington Irving applied to him. The
bust[104] made by David d'Angers in Paris in 1828 gives to Cooper a
classic splendor of head and countenance which is in agreement with the
impression produced upon those who well remembered him. He had a full,
expansive forehead, strong features, florid complexion, a mouth firm
without harshness, and clear gray eyes. His head, which was set firmly
and proudly upon giant shoulders, had a peculiar and incessant
oscillating motion. His expressive eyes also were singularly volatile in
their movement--seldom at perfect rest. He was always clean shaven, so
that nothing was lost of the changes of expression which animated his
mobile face in conversation. He had a hearty way of meeting men, a
little bustling, and an emphatic frankness of manner which Bryant says
startled him at first, but which he came at last to like and to admire.
Cooper was a great talker. His voice was agreeably sonorous. He talked
well, and with infinite resource. He could dash into animated
conversation on almost any subject, and was not slow to express decided
opinions, in which at times he almost demanded acquiescence. His
earnestness was often mistaken for brusqueness and violence; "for," says
Lounsbury,[105] "he was, in some measure, of that class of men who
appear to be excited when they are only interested." He created a strong
impression of vigor, intelligence, impulsiveness, vivacity, and
manliness.
When walking Cooper usually carried a stick, but never for support. In
his last years he carried a small, slender walking stick of polished
wood, having a curved handle, and too short for any purpose but to
flourish in the hands. As he walked briskly along the village street,
erect, and with expanded chest, this slender stick was often held
horizontally across his back with his arms skewered behind it, while at
his heels a pet dog trotted, a little black mongrel called "Frisk." In
returning from the walk which proved to be his last he stopped at
Edgewater, then the home of his niece, and, on leaving, forgot to take
his stick. There it has remained, through the years that have passed
since his death, just as he left it, hanging by its curved handle from a
shelf of one of the bookcases in the library.
During this residence in Cooperstown Fenimore Cooper wrote some twenty
of his novels, his _Naval History_, the _Chronicles of Cooperstown_,
besides many sketches of travel and articles contributed to magazines.
This prodigious amount of writing, together with many other activities,
made his life a full one. He rose early, and a considerable portion of
his writing was accomplished before breakfast. In summer hardly a day
passed without a visit to the Chalet farm, on the east side of the lake,
where he sought relaxation from his mental labors. Accordingly, at
about eleven o'clock he might be seen issuing from the gate of his
residence in a wagon, driving a tall sorrel horse named Pumpkin. This
animal was ill suited to the dignity of his driver. He had a singularity
of gait which consisted in occasionally going on three legs, and at
times elevating both hind legs in a manner rather amusing than alarming;
often he persisted in backing when urged to go forward, and always his
emotions were expressed by the switching of his very light wisp of a
tail. Mrs. Cooper was most frequently Mr. Cooper's companion on these
daily excursions, although often the eldest daughter took the place in
the vehicle by her father's side.
[Illustration: THE CHALET]
In the late afternoon Cooper usually devoted some time to the
composition of his novels, without touching pen to paper. It was his
custom to work out the scenes of his stories while promenading the large
hall of his home. Here he paced to and fro in the twilight of the
afternoon, his hands crossed behind his back, his brow carrying the
impression of deep thought. He nodded vigorously from time to time, and
muttered to himself, inventing and carrying on the conversation of his
various imaginary characters. After the evening meal he put work aside,
and passed the time with the family, sometimes reading, often in a game
of chess with Mrs. Cooper, whom, ever since their wedding day, when they
played chess between the ceremony and supper, he had fondly called his
"check-mate." He never smoked, and seldom drank beyond a glass of wine
which he took with his dinner.
[Illustration: THE NOVELIST'S LIBRARY
From a drawing by G. Pomeroy Keese]
In the early morning, when Cooper shut himself in the library, he set
down on paper in its final form the portion of narrative that he had
worked out while pacing the hall the previous afternoon. The library
opened from the main hall, and occupied the southwestern corner of the
house. It was lighted by tall, deeply-recessed windows, against which
the branches of the evergreens outside flung their waving shadows. The
wainscoting was of dark oak, and the sombre bookcases that lined the
walls were of the same material. A large fireplace occupied the space
between the two western windows. Across the room stood a folding
screen[106] upon which had been pasted a collection of engravings
representing scenes known to the family during their tour and residence
in Europe, together with a number of notes and autographs from persons
of distinction. Attached to the top of one of the bookcases was a huge
pair of antlers[107] holding in their embrace a calabash from the
southern seas.
The table at which the novelist sat once belonged to his maternal
grandfather, Richard Fenimore, and had been brought by Judge Cooper from
Burlington at the settlement of Cooperstown. It was a plain one of
English walnut, and the chair in which he sat was of the same material.
Cooper wrote rapidly, in a fine, small, clear hand, upon large sheets of
foolscap, and seldom made an erasure. No company was permitted in the
room while he was writing except an Angora cat who was allowed to bound
upon the desk without rebuke, or even to perch upon the author's
shoulders. Here the cat settled down contentedly, and with half-shut
eyes watched the steady driving of the quill across the paper.
[Illustration: A PAGE OF COOPER'S MANUSCRIPT
(Two-fifths of actual size)]
Among the many books written in this library _The Deerslayer_ brought
the greatest fame to Cooperstown, for it peopled the shores of Otsego
Lake with the creatures of Cooper's fancy, and added to the natural
beauty of its scenery the glamour of romance. The idea of writing this
story came to Fenimore Cooper on a summer afternoon as he drove from the
Chalet homeward in his farm wagon, with his favorite daughter by his
side, along the shaded road on the east shore of the lake. He was
singing cheerily, for, although no musician, often he sang snatches of
familiar songs that had struck his fancy, and above the rumbling of the
wagon his booming voice frequently was heard along the road in a sudden
burst of "Scots, wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled!" or Moore's "Love's Young
Dream"--always especial favorites with him. On this occasion, however,
it was a political song that he was singing, a ditty then popular during
the campaign of 1840 in the party opposed to his own. Suddenly he
paused, as an opening in the woods revealed a charming view of the lake.
His spirited gray eye rested a moment on the water, with an expression
of abstracted poetical thought, familiar to those who lived with him;
then, turning to the companion at his side, he exclaimed: "I must write
one more book, dearie, about our little lake!" Again his eye rested on
the water and wooded shores with the far-seeing look of one who already
had a vision of living figures and dusky forms moving amid the quiet
scene. A moment of silence followed. Then Fenimore Cooper cracked his
whip, resumed his song, with some careless chat on incidents of the day,
and drove homeward. Not long afterward he shut himself in his library,
and the first pages of _The Deerslayer_ were written.[108]
There were perhaps many in the village who felt honored in being
neighbor to a novelist of international fame. But the general sentiment
toward Fenimore Cooper in his home town was not altogether created by
his success as a writer. It may be that the aged Miss Nancy Williams,
who lived in the house which still stands on Main Street next east of
the Second National Bank, was not alone in her estimate of this kind of
success. Her favorite seat was at a front window where she was daily
occupied in knitting, and watching all passers-by. Whenever Fenimore
Cooper passed, whom she had known as a boy, Miss Williams called out to
him: "James, why don't you stop wasting your time writing those silly
novels, and try to make something of yourself!"
[Illustration: _C. A. Schneider_
THE HOME OF NANCY WILLIAMS]
Whatever may have been the village estimate of his fame as a novelist,
there were certain personal traits in Cooper that went farther than
anything he ever wrote to fix the esteem of his fellow citizens. Among
acquaintances whom he admitted as his social equals he was universally
beloved; to these he showed all the charm and fascination of a gracious
personality and brilliant mind. The more intimately Cooper was
approached the more unreservedly he was admired, and within his own
family he was almost adored. In the humbler walks of life those who
habitually recognized Cooper as a superior had nothing to complain of.
But there were many in Cooperstown who had no warmth of feeling toward
Fenimore Cooper. They were quick to detect in him an attitude of
contemptuous superiority toward the villagers. Some of the neighbors
felt that he willingly remained a stranger to them. When he passed along
the street without seeing people who expected a greeting from him, his
friends averred that it was because his mind, abstracted from present
scenes and passers-by, was engaged in the dramatic development of some
tale of sea or forest. But those who felt snubbed by his indifference
were less charitable in their interpretation of his bearing toward them.
Cooper had been for seven years a lion in Europe, splendidly entertained
by the Princess Galitzin in Paris, where he was overwhelmed with
invitations from counts and countesses; dining at Holland House in
London with Lord and Lady Holland; a guest of honor at a ball given by a
prince in Rome; presented at the brilliant Tuscan court at Florence, for
which occasion he was decked in lace frills and ruff, with dress hat and
sword;--such incidents of his foreign life began to be mentioned to
account for Cooper's disinclination to encourage familiar acquaintance
with the villagers of Cooperstown.
Cooper himself was entirely unconscious of any arrogance in his
attitude, and when, in connection with the later controversies, it came
to his knowledge that some villagers accused him of posing as an
aristocrat in Cooperstown, he resented the imputation with some
bitterness. "In this part of the world," he said, "it is thought
aristocratic not to frequent taverns, and lounge at corners, squirting
tobacco juice."[109] Cooper was strongly democratic in his convictions,
and was so far from having been a toady during his residence in Europe
that he had made enemies in aristocratic circles abroad by his fearless
championship of republican institutions. At the same time he was
fastidiously undemocratic in many of his tastes. It is a keen
observation of Lounsbury's that Cooper "was an aristocrat in feeling,
and a democrat by conviction." His recognition of the worth of true
manhood, entirely apart from rank and social refinement, is shown in the
noble character of Leather-Stocking. Yet the manners and customs of
uncultivated people in real life were most offensive to his squeamish
taste, and much of his concern for the welfare of his countrymen had to
do with their neglect of the decencies and amenities of social
behaviour.
More than half a century after his death there were some living in
Cooperstown who frequently related their childhood memories of Fenimore
Cooper. His tendency to lecture the neighbors on their manners was
burned into the memory of a child who, as she sat on her doorstep, was
engaged with the novelist in pleasant conversation, until he spied a
ring that she was wearing upon the third finger of her left hand. This
he made the text of a solemn declaration upon the impropriety of wearing
falsely the symbol of a sacred relationship. The lesson intended was
probably sensible and wholesome, but the effect produced upon the child
was a terror of Fenimore Cooper which lasted as long as life. On the
other hand, one who was a slip of a girl at the time used afterward to
boast that Fenimore Cooper had opened a gate for her when she was riding
horseback, and stood hat in hand while she passed through.
Allowance must be made for a somewhat distorted perspective in the
impression produced by Cooper upon the memories of not a few children,
for, judging from their reminiscences, the Garden of Eden was not more
inviting than his, nor its fruits more to be desired, nor was the angel
with the flaming sword more terribly vigilant than Fenimore Cooper in
guarding the trees from unholy hands. The glimpses of the novelist most
vividly remembered by these youngsters relate to attempted invasions of
the orchard near his house, and their furious repulse by the irascible
owner, who charged upon the trespassers with loud objurgations and a
flourishing stick. One who picked a rose without permission long
remembered the "awful lecture" that Cooper gave her, and how he said,
"It is just as bad to take my flowers as to steal my money."[110]
Among the children of his own friends there was quite a different
opinion of Cooper. Elihu Phinney, who was a playmate of the novelist's
son Paul, and a frequent guest at Otsego Hall, had an intense admiration
for the author of the _Leather-Stocking Tales_, although he long
remembered a lesson in table manners, by which, on one of these visits,
his host had startled him. At dinner young Elihu passed his plate with
knife and fork upon it for a second supply, when from the head of the
table came this reprimand: "My boy, never leave your implements on the
plate. You might drop knife or fork in a lady's lap. Take them both
firmly in your left hand, and hold them until your plate is returned."
Half a century afterward Elihu Phinney declared that whatever the ruling
of etiquette might be in this matter, he had never since failed to heed
this bit of advice from Fenimore Cooper. Mrs. Stephen H. Synnott, wife
of a one-time rector of Christ Church in Cooperstown, remembered Cooper
as a genuine lover of children. She was Alice Trumbull Worthington, and
during the novelist's latter years she lived as a child in the White
House on Main Street, nearest neighbor to Otsego Hall. "To meet Fenimore
Cooper on the street in the village was always a pleasure," says Mrs.
Synnott. "His eye twinkled, his face beamed, and his cane pointed at
you with a smile and a greeting of some forthcoming humor. When I
happened to be passing the gates of the old Hall, and he and Mrs. Cooper
were driving home from his farm, I often ran to open the gate for him,
which trifling act he acknowledged with old-time courtesy. His fine
garden joined my father's, and once, being in the vicinity of the fence,
he tossed me several muskmelons to catch, which at that time were quite
rare in the village gardens."
To this same little girl, when she had sent him an appreciation of one
of his novels, Fenimore Cooper wrote a letter that certainly shows a
benignant attitude toward children. "I am so much accustomed to
newspapers," he wrote, "that their censure and their praise pass but for
little, but the attentions of a young lady of your tender years to an
old man who is old enough to be her grandfather are not so easily
overlooked.... I hope that you and I and John will have an opportunity
of visiting the blackberry bushes, next summer, in company. I now invite
you to select your party, to be composed of as many little girls, and
little boys, too, if you can find those you like, to go to my farm next
summer, and spend an hour or two in finding berries. It shall be your
party, and the invitations must go out in your name, and you must speak
to me about it, in order that I may not forget it, and you can have your
school if you like or any one else. I shall ask only one guest myself,
and that will be John,[111] who knows the road, having been there once
already."
Another child who found Fenimore Cooper a most genial friend was
Caroline A. Foote, who afterward became Mrs. G. Pomeroy Keese. She was a
frequent visitor at Otsego Hall, where the novelist made much of her,
and when she was thirteen years old he wrote some original verses in her
autograph album, at her request, concluding with these lines:
In after life, when thou shalt grow
To womanhood, and learn to feel
The tenderness the aged know
To guide their children's weal,
Then wilt thou bless with bended knee
Some smiling child as I bless thee.
Encouraged by this success, Caroline Foote afterward asked Cooper to
write some verses for her schoolmate, Julia Bryant, daughter of William
Cullen Bryant, who was a warm friend of the novelist. With his young
petitioner by his side Cooper sat at the old desk in the library of
Otsego Hall and laughingly dashed off these lines:
Charming young lady, Miss Julia by name,
Your friend, little Cally, your wishes proclaim;
Read this, and you'll soon learn to know it,
I'm not your papa the great lyric poet.
In order to understand the local controversy which divided village
sentiment concerning Fenimore Cooper, and gave rise to the long series
of libel suits, it is necessary to consider certain influences of more
remote origin.
In 1826, when Cooper began his seven years' residence in Europe, before
making his home in Cooperstown, he had become the most widely read of
American authors. No other American writer, in fact, during the
nineteenth century, enjoyed so wide a contemporary popularity. His works
appeared simultaneously in America, England, and France. They were
speedily translated into German and Italian, and in most instances soon
found their way into the other cultivated tongues of Europe.[112]
Cooper's friend Morse said that his novels were published, as soon as he
produced them, in thirty-four different places in Europe, and that they
had been seen by American travelers in the languages of Turkey and
Persia, in Constantinople, in Egypt, at Jerusalem, at Ispahan. At a
dinner given in New York in Cooper's honor, just before his departure
for Europe, Chancellor Kent, who presided, voiced the general feeling by
toasting him as the "genius which has rendered our native soil classic
ground, and given to our early history the enchantment of fiction."
Patriotism in Cooper was almost a passion, and it burned in him with new
ardor because of the misunderstanding and disparagement of America which
he encountered almost everywhere in Europe. The praise which came to him
from Europeans irritated him with its air of surprise that anything good
could be expected from America or an American. Nor did he much
ingratiate himself in British society, where, when the conversation
turned upon matters discreditable to the United States, it became his
custom to bring up other matters discreditable to Great Britain. On the
Continent he pursued much the same course, and published his first
"novels with a purpose," _The Bravo_, _The Heidenmauer_, and _The
Headsman_, the object of which was to demonstrate the superiority of
democratic institutions over the medieval inheritances of Europe. In his
introduction to _The Heidenmauer_ he wrote a sentence that stirred the
wrath of the newspaper press of his own country: "Each hour, as life
advances," he asserted, "am I made to see how capricious and vulgar is
the immortality conferred by a newspaper." This provoked at home the
retort "The press has built him up; the press shall pull him down!" He
began to be bitterly attacked in some American newspapers, which accused
him of "flouting his Americanism throughout Europe."
When Cooper returned to America in 1833 it was with a sore heart. He had
tried to set Europe right about America, and the result had been only to
arouse resentment abroad and antagonism at home. It is not surprising
that he found America much changed in seven years, and not for the
better. It had been a period of rapid growth. New men were beginning to
push the "old families" to the wall, and social rank was beginning to
wait on wealth, in utter indifference to the classifications of the
elder aristocracy. To Cooper it seemed that while America had grown in
his absence there had been a vast expansion of mediocrity. Manners were
dying out; architecture had become debased; towns were larger but more
tawdry. In these observations, although they were furiously resented at
the time, Cooper was probably correct. There was a period of about fifty
years in the nineteenth century, when, in the development of material
resources, there was a large indifference to manners in America, and a
decline in the love for beautiful things and in the power to create
them. This period of neglect toward the refinements of life set in at
just about the time of Cooper's residence abroad.
But America, in this awkward age of its youthful growth, was in no mood
either to profit by criticisms or to be indifferent to them. Cooper
began to regard the attitude of Americans as pusillanimous. They toadied
to foreign opinion, and dared not stand up for America abroad; while at
home nothing American was ever to be criticised. When he expressed the
opinion that the bay of Naples was more beautiful than the bay of New
York, or complained that the streets of New York were ill-paved and
poorly lighted as compared with those of foreign cities, he was informed
by the hushed voices of friends that it would never do. His criticisms
of America were received with deeper umbrage, as coming from an
American, than the sarcasms of Dickens which, ten years later, aroused a
tempest of indignation.
It was in these circumstances that he returned to the village of his
youth, and took up his residence at Otsego Hall, in Cooperstown. Here he
wrote the _Letter to His Countrymen_ in which he set out to answer
certain criticisms of his writings that had appeared in New York
newspapers, and, in apparent disgust, publicly announced that he had
made up his mind to abandon authorship. Into this letter he imported
some remarks upon a political controversy which was then agitating the
nation, and touched the political situation in such a way, at a time
when feeling ran high, that he succeeded in enraging the adherents of
both political parties.
A storm of newspaper abuse then fell upon Cooper. He was not the man to
realize that, in controversy, silence is sometimes the most effective
weapon. He replied to every attack. Nor did he remain on the defensive.
He began new hostilities. He abandoned his resolution to abandon
authorship. _The Monikins_, a satirical novel in which men are
burlesqued by monkeys, was published in 1835. In the ten volumes of
travel published from 1836 to 1838 he dealt out occasional criticisms of
both England and America with so impartial a hand that he drew down upon
himself the savage vituperation of the press on both sides of the
Atlantic. Then came the period during which, from being the most popular
American author, he became the most unpopular man of letters to whom the
nation has ever given birth. "For years," says Lounsbury, "a storm of
abuse fell upon him, which for violence, for virulence, and even for
malignity, surpassed anything in the history of American literature, if
not in the history of literature itself."
[Illustration: THREE-MILE POINT]
On the western shore of Otsego Lake there is a low, wooded tongue of
land which projects for a short distance into the water, and is called,
in reference to its distance from Cooperstown, Three-Mile Point. This
has been a favorite resort for picnics and other outings of villagers
since 1822. When Fenimore Cooper took up his residence in the village in
1834, after his return from Europe, he found that the free use of
Three-Mile Point by the public had given rise to the notion that it was
owned by the community. This impression he took pains to correct, saying
that while he had no desire to prevent the public from resorting to the
Point, he wished it clearly understood that it was owned by the
descendants of Judge William Cooper, of whose will he was executor. A
defiant attitude toward his claim, and the destruction of a tree at
Three-Mile Point afterward led Cooper to publish in the _Freeman's
Journal_ the following warning:
The public is warned against trespassing on the Three-Mile
Point, it being the intention of the subscriber rigidly to
enforce the title of the estate, of which he is the
representative, to the same. The public has not, nor has it
ever had any right to the same beyond what has been conceded
by the liberality of the owners. J. FENIMORE COOPER.
Immediately upon the publication of this notice, a handbill was put into
circulation, which, in sarcastic terms, called for a public meeting of
protest. "The citizens of the Village of Cooperstown," it ran, "are
requested to meet at the Inn of Isaac Lewis, in said Village, this
evening, at 7 o'clock, to take means to meet, and defend against the
arrogant pretensions of one James Fenimore Cooper, claiming title to the
'Three-Mile Point,' and denying to the citizens the right of using the
same, as they have been accustomed to from time immemorial, without
being indebted to the LIBERALITY of any one man, whether native
or foreigner."
[Illustration: THE CALL FOR THE INDIGNATION MEETING
From original printer's proof: one-half actual size.]
The meeting was held, and stirring speeches were made. A series of
resolutions was passed, following a preamble setting forth the facts as
understood by the meeting of citizens:
Resolved, By the aforesaid citizens that we will wholly
disregard the notice given by James F. Cooper, forbidding the
public to frequent the Three-Mile Point.
Resolved, That inasmuch as it is well known that the late
William Cooper intended the use of the Point in question for
the citizens of this village and its vicinity, we deem it no
more than a proper respect for the memory and intentions of
the father, that the son should recognize the claim of the
citizens to the use of the premises, even had he the power to
deny it.
Resolved, That we will hold his threat to enforce title to the
premises, as we do his whole conduct in relation to the
matter, in perfect contempt.
Resolved, That the language and conduct of Cooper, in his
attempts to procure acknowledgments of "liberality," and his
attempt to force the citizens into asking his permission to
use the premises, has been such as to render himself odious to
a greater portion of the citizens of this community.
Resolved, That we do recommend and request the trustees of the
Franklin Library, in this village, to remove all books, of
which Cooper is the author, from said library.
Resolved also, That we will and do denounce any man as
sycophant, who has, or shall, ask permission of James F.
Cooper to visit the Point in question.
It was said that the meeting resolved to take Cooper's books from the
Library and burn them at a public bonfire, but if so, this proposal did
not appear in the resolutions as finally drafted.
The actual point at issue in this controversy was soon settled. In a
letter to the _Freeman's Journal_ Cooper showed that his father's will,
drawn up in 1808, made a particular devise of Three-Mile Point. The
words of the document were explicit: "I give and bequeath my place,
called Myrtle Grove [Three-Mile Point], on the west side of the Lake
Otsego, to all my descendants in common until the year 1850; then to be
inherited by the youngest thereof bearing my name."
But the results of the controversy were far-reaching. The quarrel gave
rise to Cooper's unfortunate book _Home as Found_, to new controversies,
and to the long series of libel suits.
_Home as Found_ was intended to set forth in the course of a story the
principles involved in the dispute about Three-Mile Point. It gave the
author an opportunity also to enlarge upon his criticisms of America,
and particularly of New York City. For this purpose the story brought
upon the scene an American family long resident in Europe whom the
writer called the Effinghams. Against the vulgar background of American
life the members of this family were intended to personify all the
accomplishments of culture and social refinement.
Cooper's own attitude was astonishing in his failure to realize that in
the Effinghams he would be supposed to be representing himself and his
own family. The intimation was sufficiently obvious. The family returned
from residence abroad; the removal to the village of "Templeton," with
direct reference to _The Pioneers_; the story of the Three-Mile Point
controversy--the inference seemed to follow from the parallel that the
Effinghams were the Coopers. But Cooper's general unwillingness to
acknowledge that any of his characters were drawn from life was here
carried to the last extreme. It was evident that he was honestly
unconscious of any such inference; his purpose was to deal with
principles, not persons. When the name of Effingham was derisively
applied to him, he resented the imputation.
The controversy between Cooper and his critics had now reached a degree
of violence that was grotesque. To stand alone, as Cooper stood, against
furious assaults that represented the sentiments of nearly the whole
public was not conducive to playful moods of the spirit; yet the
controversy had its humorous side, and if the novelist had had a keen
sense of humor he would have been spared much trouble. Certain aspects
of the ludicrous appealed to Cooper, and there was a range of absurdity
within which his merriment was easily excited, as when he laughed until
the tears ran down his cheeks because his man-of-all-work thought that
boiled oil should be called "biled ile"; but his attempts to create and
sustain humorous characters, such as the singing-master in _The Last of
the Mohicans_, justify Balzac's comments on Cooper's "profound and
radical impotence for the comic." Nothing could be more comic than his
rôle of lecturer to the American people upon refinements of social usage
and manners. The many who were guilty of the vulgarities which he wished
to correct were precisely those who could not be made to see the
impropriety of them, and most fiercely resented any attempt to improve
their deportment. If Cooper had possessed an acute sense of humor he
would never have written _Home as Found_, nor would he have dignified
with a reply the attack of every scribbler who assailed him. But he took
all criticisms seriously, and felt it a solemn duty, in justice to
himself and to the principles for which he stood, to defend himself
against all and sundry. There is no doubt that in standing alone against
the whole world he believed himself to be performing a public service,
and displayed a degree of courage which is too rare not to command
extraordinary admiration. At the same time those of his friends who
described him as borne down by the weight of his sorrow at the
misunderstanding and ingratitude which he encountered had not taken the
full measure of his character. So splendid a fighter as Fenimore Cooper
usually finds some pleasure in fighting, especially if, as in his case,
he is habitually victorious. He leaped into the fray of each controversy
with such alacrity that it is difficult to avoid the belief that Cooper
was animated not only by a sense of justice, but by a joy of battle.
The occasion of the libel suits was the publication in August, 1837, in
the _Otsego Republican_, a Cooperstown newspaper, of an article copied
from the _Norwich Telegraph_, in which Cooper was roundly abused in
reference to the Three-Mile Point controversy, and to which the
_Republican_ added comments of its own, repeating the disproved
statement that the father of the novelist had reserved the Point for the
use of the inhabitants of the village. Cooper promptly notified the
editor of the _Republican_, Andrew M. Barber, that unless the statements
were retracted he would enter suit for libel. Barber refused to retract;
the suit was begun; and in May, 1839, at the final trial, the jury
returned a verdict of four hundred dollars for the plaintiff. The
editor sought to avoid the payment of the whole award, and a great
outcry was raised against Cooper because the sheriff levied upon some
money which Barber had laid away and locked up in a trunk. Cooper sued
also the _Norwich Telegraph_, and when other newspapers took the side of
their associates he entered suit promptly against any that published
libelous statements. In this way one suit led to another, until Cooper
was bringing action against the _Oneida Whig_, published at Utica; the
_Courier and Enquirer_ of New York, edited by James Watson Webb; the
_Evening Signal_ of New York, edited by Park Benjamin; the _Commercial
Advertiser_ of New York, edited by Col. William L. Stone; the _Tribune_,
edited by Horace Greeley; and the _Albany Evening Journal_, edited by
Thurlow Weed. This list includes the leading Whig journals of the time
in the State of New York, which were among the most influential in the
whole country. Col. Stone, Thurlow Weed, and Watson Webb were former
residents of Cooperstown, the two first named having each served an
apprenticeship as printer in the office of the _Freeman's Journal_. Weed
was recognized as the leader of the Whig party in the nation, and his
newspaper was correspondingly important. He was Cooper's most persistent
opponent, and in 1841 the novelist had commenced five suits against him
for various articles published in the _Evening Journal_. It is a curious
fact that Weed was noted as a bigoted admirer of his adversary's novels.
Weed himself afterward related that when about to leave Albany by
stage-coach to attend one of these trials, and inquiring at the
booksellers for some late publication to read on the journey, he was
informed that the only new book was _The Two Admirals_, which had just
been issued. "I took the book," said Weed, "and soon became so absorbed
that I had hardly any time or thought for the trial, through which the
author who charmed me was trying to push me to the wall."
The libel suits extended over the period from 1838 to 1844. Cooper acted
almost wholly as his own lawyer, and argued his own cases in court. He
was pitted against leaders of the bar in the greatest State in the
Union. He had become personally unpopular, and was engaged in an
unpopular cause. He won his verdicts from reluctant juries, but, in
nearly every case, he won. The libel law of the State of New York was
made, to a great extent, by the Fenimore Cooper cases.
To complete the story, the final disposition of Three-Mile Point, the
innocuous cause of all this controversy, must here be anticipated. In
1899 Simon Uhlman, a wealthy hop merchant, purchased a summer home on
the lakeside nearest to Three-Mile Point, and, desiring to acquire this
tongue of land for his own use, made inquiries of Samuel M. Shaw, the
veteran editor of the _Freeman's Journal_, to ascertain from whom the
purchase might be made. Shaw learned from G. Pomeroy Keese that under
the terms of Judge Cooper's will, the Point was then owned by William
Cooper of Baltimore, and hastily arranged for the purchase at a
moderate price, not for Uhlman, but for the village of Cooperstown. Thus
Uhlman lost a desirable water front, and William Cooper a big price for
his land, but the citizens of Cooperstown gained a playground, the
denial of which to their forebears had nearly caused a riot. Uhlman
afterward sold his place, Uncas Lodge, to Adolphus Busch of St. Louis.
Cooper's reputation as an author suffered from his success as a litigant
in an unpopular cause, and his prosecution of the libel suits injured
the sale of his books, not only then, but for some years after his
death. In 1844, just after Cooper had reduced the newspapers of the
State to silence, Edward Everett Hale visited Cooperstown, and says that
when he tried to buy a copy of _The Pioneers_ at a local bookseller's
the dealer coolly declared that he had never heard of the book.[113]
While public attention was engaged by the libel suits, Cooper was
occupied with much else. It was during this period that he published his
important _Naval History_, besides ten of his novels. Nor was there any
loss of interest in his various avocations, among which, in 1840, he
found time to plan and supervise extensive alterations in Christ Church,
of which he had become a vestryman in 1835. With his mind full of the
Gothic splendor of churches that he had seen in England, he set out to
beautify the village church at home. The broad windows with rounded tops
he caused to be somewhat narrowed, and pointed, in the fashion usually
described as Gothic. Traces of this change still appear in the exterior
brickwork of the church, for the outline of the original windows has
never been obliterated. To this alteration Cooper added the buttresses
all about the church, not for structural necessity, but as an
architectural embellishment. The interior he caused to be entirely
remodeled, and finished in native oak. Cooper especially prided himself
upon an oaken screen which, as his gift to the church, he erected behind
the altar. The alterations in the church are referred to in a letter
dated "Hall, Cooperstown, April 22nd, 1840" and addressed to Harmanus
Bleecker of Albany:
"I have just been revolutionizing Christ Church, Cooperstown,
not turning out a vestry, but converting its pine interior
into oak--_bona fide_ oak, and erecting a screen that I trust,
though it may have no influence on my soul, will carry my name
down to posterity. It is really a pretty thing--pure Gothic,
and is the wonder of the country round."
This screen remained in the church, with some alteration, until 1891,
when, at the time the chancel was built, it was unfortunately thrown out
and not replaced. In 1910 the remnants of the old screen were
reconstructed to fit the two archways that open into the church on
either side of the chancel, and the panels of the original work were cut
out, allowing a vista through the tracery. The screen that stands at the
left hand as one faces the chancel is almost entirely of the original
design and material.
[Illustration: THE COOPER SCREENS IN CHRIST CHURCH]
Amid his manifold interests, Fenimore Cooper at one time amused himself
in the study of the so-called occult sciences. Having advocated with
apparent enthusiasm a belief in animal magnetism and clairvoyance, he
caused public meetings to be held in the old Court House in Cooperstown,
where, evening after evening, the mysteries of hypnotism were discussed.
On one of these occasions a negro, who had proved at several meetings to
be an excellent subject, was hypnotized in the presence of the audience,
and pronounced to be both clairvoyant and insensible to pain. While
Cooper was descanting eloquently upon this strange phenomenon, the
darkey, suddenly rolling up his eyeballs, and displaying all his ivory,
sprung spasmodically into the air, and then tumbled back in his seat.
This startling interruption of the lecture remained unexplained for many
years, until Elihu Phinney, the young friend and neighbor of Fenimore
Cooper, confessed to being responsible for it. It seems that, during the
course of the lectures, Phinney had had an argument with Harvey Perkins
concerning the possibility of a truly hypnotic state, which Perkins
affirmed and Phinney denied. Perkins finally said:
"So, you won't admit that the negro is rendered insensible to pain?"
"Never, no, not for a moment," was the reply.
"Well," said Perkins, "here is a darning needle four inches long. Take
this with you to the lecture to-night, and at the first opportunity
thrust it slyly for a full inch into his thigh. If he flinches, I will
give up; if not, you will believe."
"Most assuredly," said Phinney, and it was this test which caused the
interruption of Fenimore Cooper's lecture on hypnotism.[114]
In the summer of 1843, at about eleven o'clock every morning, Fenimore
Cooper was seen coming forth from the gates of Otsego Hall escorting a
strange-looking companion. The figures of the two men offered a singular
contrast. Cooper, tall and portly, with the ruddy glow of health upon
his countenance, was swinging a light whip of a cane more ornamental
than useful, and stepped forward with a firm and elastic tread. The man
by his side was a shriveled and weather-beaten hulk, hobbling, and with
halting step pressing heavily upon a crooked stick that served for his
support. Sometimes they walked the village streets together. At other
times they came down upon the border of the lake for a sail upon its
waters in a skiff which Cooper had rigged with a lug-sail in
recollection of early Mediterranean days. Here the stranger was more at
home, for the man was Ned Myers, an old sailor who had been Cooper's
messmate on board the _Sterling_ nearly forty years before. The old
salt, who had passed a lifetime on many seas, developed a great respect
for Otsego Lake, which he found to be "a slippery place to navigate." "I
thought I had seen all sorts of winds before I saw the Otsego," he
afterward declared, "but on this lake it sometimes blew two or three
different ways at the same time."
It was a strange chance which renewed the acquaintance between Fenimore
Cooper and Ned Myers. Their ways were long separated. Myers had
continued to follow the sea, and became at last a derelict at the
"Sailor's Snug Harbor" at the port of New York. Here it was that having
read some of Cooper's sea tales it occurred to the old sailor that the
author might be the young James Cooper whom he had known aboard the
_Sterling_. Accordingly he wrote to the novelist at Cooperstown, seeking
the desired information, and received in reply a cordial letter
beginning with the words, "I am your old shipmate, Ned."
On his next visit in New York, Cooper got into touch with Myers, and
invited the old tar to spend several weeks of the summer as his guest at
Otsego Hall in Cooperstown. The novelist had much in common with Ned
Myers, for his own experience at sea was sufficient to qualify him as a
sailor. "I have been myself," said Cooper, "one of eleven hands,
officers included, to navigate a ship of three hundred tons across the
Atlantic Ocean; and, what is more, we often reefed topsails with the
watch." While in Cooperstown as the guest of the novelist the old sailor
who had shipped on seventy-two different craft, and had passed a quarter
of a century out of sight of land, spun the yarn of his experience which
Cooper wove into the story of _Ned Myers_.
It is remarkable that one whose writings evince so strong an orthodoxy
of Christian faith, with a championship of churchly doctrines too rigid
for many of his readers, did not himself become a communicant of the
Church until the last year of his life. On Sunday, July 27, 1851, Bishop
de Lancey visited Christ Church, Cooperstown, and among those to whom he
administered the sacrament of Confirmation, in the presence of a large
congregation, was his brother-in-law, James Fenimore Cooper. The
novelist's family pew was one which stood sidelong at the right of the
chancel. He had by this time become quite infirm, and the bishop, after
receiving the other candidates at the sanctuary rail, left the chancel,
and administered Confirmation to Fenimore Cooper kneeling in his own
pew.
[Illustration: _Alice Choate_
AT FENIMORE COOPER'S GRAVE]
Fenimore Cooper died less than two months later, on Sunday, September
14, 1851, aged sixty-two years lacking one day. The body lay in state at
Otsego Hall, and on Wednesday the funeral services were held in Christ
Church, the interment being made in the Cooper plot in Christ
churchyard. This grave, covered by the prostrate slab of marble marked
by a cross, and bearing an inscription that sets forth nothing beyond
the novelist's name, with dates of birth and death, has become a shrine
of literary pilgrimage. The hurried tourist is disappointed in not being
greeted by some conspicuous monument to beckon him at once to the famous
tomb; but a more genuine tribute to the novelist's memory appears when
the visitor's eye lights upon the path leading from the gate of the
enclosure, and deeply worn in the sod by the feet of wayfarers in many a
long journey, through the years, to Cooper's grave.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 102: _James Fenimore Cooper_, by Mary E. Phillips, p. 262.]
[Footnote 103: In 1826 he applied to the legislature to change his name
to James Cooper Fenimore, since there were no men of his mother's family
to continue the name. The request was not granted, but the change was
made to James Fenimore-Cooper. He soon dropped the hyphen.]
[Footnote 104: Now in the hall at Fynmere, the home built in Cooperstown
by the novelist's grandson, James Fenimore Cooper of Albany.]
[Footnote 105: _James Fenimore Cooper_, by Thomas R. Lounsbury, American
Men of Letters series, p. 80.]
[Footnote 106: Now at Fynmere.]
[Footnote 107: Now at Edgewater.]
[Footnote 108: _Pages and Pictures_, Susan Fenimore Cooper, p. 322.]
[Footnote 109: _James Fenimore Cooper_, W. B. Shubrick Clymer, p. 90.]
[Footnote 110: Livermore, p. 204.]
[Footnote 111: John Worthington, afterward United States Consul in
Malta.]
[Footnote 112: Lounsbury.]
[Footnote 113: Cooperstown Centennial Book, p. 133.]
[Footnote 114: _Reminiscences_, Elihu Phinney, 1890.]
CHAPTER XV
MR. JUSTICE NELSON
Samuel Nelson, LL.D., who became a resident of Cooperstown in 1824, made
this village his home for nearly fifty years. At the time of his death
in 1873, he had long been recognized not only as the first citizen of
Cooperstown, but as a man of national reputation.
Before taking up his residence in Cooperstown, Nelson had become judge
of the Sixth circuit, which included Otsego county; in 1831 he was
promoted to the bench of the Supreme Court of the State, of which, six
years later, he became chief justice. In 1845 he went upon the bench of
the Supreme Court of the United States, and served with distinction
until his voluntary retirement in 1872, which brought to a close the
longest judicial career in history, covering a period of half a century.
In 1871 Judge Nelson was one of five members representing the United
States in the Joint High Commission appointed to devise means to settle
differences between the American and British governments, and
contributed not a little to bringing about the agreement which resulted
in the Treaty of Washington.
During this long public career, Judge Nelson retained his home in
Cooperstown, where he was in residence much of the time. In that day the
drift of successful men to the cities had not yet become a law of
growth, and many a big man dwelt by choice in a small community. So it
was with Judge Nelson, who, on retiring from the highest tribunal of the
nation, could imagine nothing more grateful than to spend all his time
in the village from which the pressure of judicial duty had kept him too
much away.
[Illustration: SAMUEL NELSON, LL.D.]
Judge Nelson first became widely known in 1837, when he was appointed
chief justice of the Supreme Court of the State of New York. The court
was then composed of three judges, whose principal duty it was to hear
and decide questions of law. It was a judicial body of great dignity and
learning, with a fame so illustrious that its decisions had long been
cited as authority in Westminster Hall, and in all the States of the
Union where the common law prevailed.
In the Supreme Court of the United States, when he was promoted to that
tribunal, and in the United States Circuit Courts, Judge Nelson was
called upon to administer branches of law with which he was not in
practice familiar, and some fears were expressed that these untried
duties might cause him embarrassment. It was suggested that his long and
severely critical administration of the common law, through its
pleadings and practice, might have so educated him that he would fail in
appreciating the more liberal and expansive systems of Equity, Maritime,
Admiralty, and international jurisprudence administered in the national
courts; and it was also thought improbable that a judge who had been
early in professional life elevated to the bench of a common law court,
would be able to explore and understand the complicated mechanical,
chemical, and other scientific questions, which in Patent causes were
constantly arising for exclusive adjudication in the federal courts.
But these apprehensions were all disappointed. Judge Nelson had no
sooner taken his seat on the bench of the Circuit Court in New York
City,[115] than he perceived that the cases on the calendar, though few
in number, were so complicated, and embraced so many intricate
questions, that they must be mastered according to a method that his
former experience did not furnish. He investigated every new question as
it arose. He listened earnestly to the arguments of counsel, and ever
seemed resolved, before they concluded, to understand the points on
which the case must finally turn. Often he descended from the bench when
complicated machinery, or specimens illustrative of science, or models
of vessels intended to develop the relations of colliding ships, were
before him, and by their close and repeated study strove to understand
the real points in controversy.
Thus Judge Nelson built up a sound knowledge of the principles and
practice of every branch of law which he was called upon to administer.
An appeal or writ of error from his decisions was seldom taken. So
familiar did he become with the jurisprudence involved in the
administration of the Patent laws of this country, so thoroughly did he
investigate questions of science and mechanics, and so sound a judgment
was he known to form on these subjects, that his opinions concerning
them were by courts and counsel accepted as of greater authority than
those of any other judge. For many years before the close of his labors
at the Circuit, patentees felt that when he had judicially passed upon
their rights they were substantially settled, and hence there came
before him repeatedly from distant points cases involving the validity
of the most valuable patents in the country, and to his decision the
parties generally submitted without appeal. On questions of admiralty
and maritime law also he came to be considered a great authority. In his
later years he was so adept in reaching the essential points of
complicated cases that he was generally credited with a marvellous
faculty of intuition. He was not guided by any intuition, however, but
by the results of his careful study and legal experience.
In 1857 the Supreme Court of the United States rendered the famous Dred
Scott decision, which became one of the contributory causes of the Civil
War. Only two members of the court dissented. Justice Nelson concurred
in the conclusion of Chief Justice Taney, who delivered the decision,
dissenting on one point only, and adding that, in his opinion, the power
of Congress could not be one-sided; if it existed to destroy slavery, it
could also establish slavery.
Judge Nelson had gained some acquaintance with slavery in his own home
town, for, when first he took up his residence in Cooperstown, in 1824,
there were a number of slaves in the village. Some of the earliest
settlers had negroes in bondage. Among these was James Averell, Jr., who
worked his tannery by slave labor. One of his slaves, known as Tom
Bronk, was for many years well known in Cooperstown as the servant of
the former owner's son, William Holt Averell, and lived to a great age.
The clumsily written bill of sale by which Tom Bronk became the property
of James Averell, Jr., is still in existence:
Know all men by these Presents, that I, George Henry
Livingston, of the town of Sharon, County of Schoharie and
State of New York, for and in Consideration of the Sum of
three hundred Dollars Lawful money of the State of New York to
me in hand paid by James Averill Jr of the town and County of
Otsego and State Aforesaid At or before the Sealing and
delivery of these Presents, the Receipt whereof, I the said
George Henry Livingston do hereby acknowledge, have granted,
bargained and sold, and by these presents, do grant, bargain
and sell, unto the said James Averill Jr, his Executors,
Administrators, and assigns, one negro man About thirty Six
years of age and known by the name of Tom to have and to hold
the said negro man Tom to the said James Averill Jr. his
Executors, Administrators, and assigns forever; and I the said
George Henry Livingston for myself, my heirs Executors, and
Administrators the Said negro man unto the said James Averill
Jr. his Executors, administrators, and assigns, against me the
said George Henry Livingston, my Executors, and
Administrators, and against all and every other person or
persons Whomsoever Shall and will warrent. And forever Defend
by these presents. And also warrent the said negro man to be
Sound and in health. According to the best of my knowledge in
witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and Seal the
Second Day of October in the year of our Lord one thousand
Eight hundred Fifteen.
Signed, Sealed, and Delivered
In Presence of
ZACHARIAH HUGER
KOERL VAN SCHAYCK
GEORGE X HENRY LIVINGSTON.
his mark
A group of settlers who came from the Barbadoes brought with them
slaves, who were afterward freed, and the tombstone of Joseph Stewart,
in the Cooper family plot in Christ churchyard, emphasizes, in capital
letters, the fact that, although born a slave, he was for twenty years a
_free_ servant of Judge Cooper. These instances, and an advertisement in
the _Otsego Herald_ in 1799, show that slavery was not uncommon here in
the early days:
A YOUNG WENCH--_For Sale_--She is a good cook, and
ready at all kinds of housework. None can exceed her if she is
kept from liquor. She is 24 years of age--no husband nor
children. Price $200; inquire of the printer.
The act which entirely abolished slavery in the State of New York did
not take effect until July 4th, 1827, on which occasion about sixty
Cooperstown negroes marched with a flying banner and martial music to
the Presbyterian church, where Hayden Waters, a village darkey,
delivered an address that was heard not only by his colored brethren,
but by a large assemblage of white citizens.
Justice Nelson's concurrence in the Dred Scott decision did not
necessarily register his approval of slavery, but only his
interpretation of the law as it then existed. He never owned any slaves,
and was regarded by the negroes in Cooperstown as a powerful friend of
their race. A favorite servant of his household for some years was a
free negro named Jenny York, who had been a slave in her youth. She was
a unique character, famous as a cook, having an unusually keen
appreciation of a cook's perquisites. Choice provisions and delicacies
disappeared through systematic dole at Judge Nelson's kitchen door, or
sometimes being reserved against a holiday, reappeared to furnish a
banquet in the servants' hall, to which Jenny's many dusky friends were
bidden. The current story is that, when Jenny died, the negroes of the
village chose for her grave an epitaph which, at their request, Judge
Nelson caused to be inscribed upon her tomb exactly as they had worded
it. This inscription may still be seen upon a tombstone that faces the
street at the eastern end of Christ churchyard, in the part which was
reserved for the burial of negroes. Jenny was sincerely mourned at the
time of her death, but with the passing of the years no tears are shed
at her grave but those of sympathetic laughter. A just appreciation of
the delicate balance of mercy and justice in her unusual epitaph
requires some definite knowledge of both the virtues and weaknesses of
Jenny York. The enigmatical eulogy reads as follows:
JENNY YORK
DIED FEB. 22, 1837.
AET. 50 YEA.
* * *
SHE HAD HER FAULTS
BUT
WAS KIND TO THE POOR.
When Nelson went upon the bench of the national Supreme Court he became
acquainted with Stephen A. Douglas, who was then springing into
prominence in Congress; and it was said that the "little giant" got much
of the legal ammunition for his speeches from the new associate justice.
More than once Justice Nelson was suggested as the Democratic candidate
for President of the United States, and at the Democratic national
convention held in Chicago during the Civil War Governor Horatio Seymour
of New York attempted to carry his nomination. It was known, however,
that Judge Nelson had declined to allow the use of his name, and had
expressed the opinion that a justice of the federal supreme court never
should be regarded as a possible candidate for political office. Nelson
at this time was in many ways the strongest man on the bench of the
Supreme Court, and Salmon P. Chase, who was appointed chief justice in
1864, placed great reliance upon his advice and judgment. On one
occasion at the table of John V. L. Pruyn in Albany, when his host
addressed Chase as "Mr. Chief Justice," the latter pleasantly
interrupted him--"Your friend Nelson is Chief Justice," he said.
During the Civil War, although a member of the Democratic party, Justice
Nelson won and retained the confidence of the party in power, and his
loyalty was never questioned. He disapproved of what he held to be
invasions of the rights of citizens which were made under military
authority, but never by word or act obstructed the maintenance of the
federal government. President Lincoln and Secretary Seward reposed
great faith in Judge Nelson's wisdom, and in critical emergencies
consulted him upon delicate questions of international law which arose
during the progress of the war.
An episode of the Civil War period in Cooperstown, although the truth of
the matter was a state secret at the time, had a relation to Justice
Nelson that is of interest in this connection. In a visit of the
diplomatic corps from Washington the village enjoyed such memorable
emotions of civic pride that the date of the event, the twenty-first of
August, 1863, was long afterward referred to, by the oldest inhabitants,
as "Cooperstown's great day."
It was said that the entertainment of the legations at Cooperstown was
included as part of an excursion through New York State which Secretary
Seward had planned to impress upon foreign governments the strength and
resources of the North.
The party arrived from Sharon Springs, and had luncheon at the Inn at
Five-Mile Point, on Otsego Lake. Secretary Seward's guests included Lord
Lyons, of England; Baron Gerolt, of Prussia; M. Mercier, of France;
Baron Stroeckel, of Russia; M. Tassara, of Spain; M. Molina, of
Nicaragua; together with the representatives of Italy, Sweden, and
Chili; and several secretaries and attachés of various legations. A few
citizens of Cooperstown, including Judge Nelson, were invited to take
luncheon with the visitors. The master of ceremonies was the Hon. Levi
C. Turner of Cooperstown, who was at that time Judge advocate in the
War Department, and had accompanied the party from Washington.
The luncheon passed without incident, except that a weighty citizen of
the village undertook to demonstrate, for the benefit of the foreigners,
the American method of eating corn on the cob, to the great disgust of a
dapper attaché of the British legation, who was horrified by the
performance. When the guests had left the table, which had been set
beneath the trees, and were lounging about in peaceful enjoyment of the
forest shade and lakeland view, there appeared upon the scene a person
who impressed the foreigners as being a veritable pioneer. He was a
tall, loose-jointed creature, bearded and long-haired; he wore a slouch
hat and a hickory shirt, while one suspender supported blue jean
overalls, which disappeared in a pair of cowhide boots of huge
proportions. This uninvited guest calmly inspected the assembled
company, drew near to the deserted tables, helped himself to a tumbler
and a bottle of brandy, from which he poured out four fingers of the
fiery liquid, and drank it raw. He seemed thoughtful for a moment; then
repeated the dose. Thus agreeably stimulated the stranger made himself
at home in the company, and became talkative.
"I say," he said, bustling alongside the French minister, "you're goin'
to stand right by us in this muss, ain't you?"
The polite diplomat hastened to assure him that the French government
desired nothing but the most friendly relations. The man drew nearer
than was necessary for diplomatic intercourse:
"Honor bright, now, and no foolin'?"
The ambassador repeated his assurance of friendship, and edged away from
the pioneer, whose gesticulations became alarming as he shouted,
"You've got to, don't you see--"
What he wanted the Frenchman to see was the power of the Union
Government, and, as words failed him to describe it, the uninvited guest
attempted to make visible, in his own person, the frightfulness of the
god of War. He leaped into the air, flung his hat on the ground, struck
a pugilistic attitude, and began to dance around the ambassador,
squaring off with his fists, as though preparing a knockout blow for the
French Republic. The two were quickly surrounded by a ring of diplomats
and citizens of Cooperstown, the foreigners being doubtful whether the
matter should be taken in jest or earnest, while the villagers were
hesitating between enjoyment of the comedy and a sense of duty toward
their guests. As for M. Mercier, he was aghast at the rudeness of the
challenge. He folded his arms, drew himself up, shrugged his shoulders,
puffed out his cheeks, and stared at the adversary with eyes aflame.
Before the pugilistic stranger could execute his threats Judge Hezekiah
Sturges of Cooperstown interposed his burly form; at a nod from him two
muscular citizens of the village seized the invader by the back of the
neck and the seat of his overalls, made him "walk Spanish" quickly to
the shore, and heaved him into the lake.
In the late afternoon the party of diplomats were conveyed by carriages
to Cooperstown, where they became severally the guests of various
citizens. The distinguished visitors were greeted by a salute of guns;
while fireworks and bonfires were the order of the evening. The Fly
Creek Band, accompanied by a large crowd of villagers, under the
leadership of James I. Hendryx, serenaded the foreign ministers at their
various places of sojourn, and speeches were called for, which were
loudly applauded. Judge Turner's house, the old Campbell homestead,
which stands on Lake Street, facing Chestnut Street, was first visited,
for there William H. Seward, Secretary of State, was the guest of honor.
The band played a waltz, and the crowd cheered. Judge Turner soon
appeared, and introduced the Secretary of State, who made a brief
speech. He said that the weather in Washington had become exasperatingly
hot; matters of complex nature and of international importance had to be
discussed; there was danger that he and the foreign minsters might
become fretful and peevish; and so he had asked the entire diplomatic
corps to take a vacation, and meanwhile affairs of State might go hang.
The speech pleased the crowd. The band played another waltz, to the tune
of which the procession marched through the main street and across the
river to Woodside, where Lord Lyons, the British minister, was the guest
of John F. Scott. Here the band played a third waltz, while hundreds of
cheering men clambered up the terraced slope of the garden. Some one
called for Lord Lyons, and the whole crowd took up the cry, "Lord Lyons!
Lord Lyons!" This soon became "Lyons! Lyons!" although one enthusiastic
Irishman of great vocal power kept crying, "Misther Lynes! Misther
Lynes!"
At this point the leader of the band was instructed to play "God Save
the Queen," as a compliment to the guest of Woodside.
"My heaven!" he whined, "we can't play nothing but three waltzes!"
One of the waltzes was then repeated, and the host of Woodside appeared.
He explained that Lord Lyons had been paying a visit across the river,
but was expected to return at any moment. Just then Lord Lyons himself
came hopping up the steps of the terrace, short, fat, lively, a man of
talent, who soon recovered his breath, and made a speech that elicited
hearty cheers.
The Russian ambassador was the guest of Edward Clark at Apple Hill,
where Fernleigh now stands. The diplomat had retired when the crowd of
serenaders arrived, and was awakened by the blare of the band and loud
demands for "a speech from the great Roosian bear!" The guest was
assisted by his host to crawl through the window over the porch, in
scanty raiment, to speak to the assembled citizens. At the residence of
Jedediah P. Sill, which stands on Chestnut Street next to the Methodist
parsonage, the Italian ambassador received the crowd with bows and
smiles.
Similar visits were paid at the places of sojourn of the other
representatives of foreign powers; but the most uproarious assembly was
that which gathered before the home of George L. Bowne, where the
Spanish ambassador was being entertained. This house stands on the west
side of Chestnut Street, next south of Willow Brook, which here ducks
beneath a culvert to cross the highway.
The representative of the Queen of Spain had only a limited knowledge of
the English language, but what he lacked in vocabulary he made up in
gestures, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears.
"Gentlemen," he began, "you will excuse me from a speech. In my country,
we, the nobility, do not make speeches to the common people."--(Vigorous
cheers greeted this statement, and Judge Turner, who stood near the
speaker, remarked, "True, every word.") "I the English language not well
do speak,"--("Go on, go on; you're a daisy, that's what you are," cried
voices from the crowd, while Judge Turner kept saying with judicial
gravity, "Every word true.") At this point the Spaniard became
incoherent, but, although nobody could understand a word, wild cheers
greeted him at every pause in his discourse. He let loose a flood of
eloquence, which being consistently endorsed by Judge Turner, was
applauded until the speaker stopped from sheer exhaustion.[116]
It was long after midnight when the last speech had been made and the
crowds dispersed.
[Illustration: THE HOME OF JUSTICE NELSON]
A pair of small boys, who had made the occasion an excuse for staying
out a good part of the warm summer night, passed Justice Nelson's
residence on Main Street, as they strolled homeward, and noticed that
here a light was still burning. The deserted street was feebly lit by a
few gas lamps, but the other houses in the neighborhood were dark, and
the boys were attracted as moths to a flame by the glimmering through
the blinds of Judge Nelson's windows. The lighted room was the one on
the ground floor at the right of the doorway. Because of the warmth of
the night, the window-sashes had been raised, and the curtains drawn
back, so that the interior of the room was screened from passers-by only
by the closed slats of the blinds. These were temptingly near to the
sidewalk, and the young imps, standing on tiptoe, did not hesitate, when
they had discovered a chink between the slats, to peek into the
apartment.
They saw a room lined with rows of books bound in law-calf, for it was
Judge Nelson's library. In the midst a student's lamp shed a mellow
light upon the usual paraphernalia of a lawyer's desk, and dimly
illuminated the features of two men who sat facing each other across the
table. The large form, massive head, and long gray hair of Judge Nelson,
who sat with his back to the fireplace, were instantly recognized by the
peering eyes at the window. The man who faced him was of a different
type, a rather small figure, with nothing commanding in his appearance;
he had a shock of sandy hair, blue eyes, and a smoothly shaven mouth and
chin somewhat receding from a finely chiseled nose. He was speaking
earnestly, and in a tone of conviction. His voice was harsh, but his
manner was suave, agreeable, and persuasive.
"Who's he?" whispered one of the boys.
"That's Mr. Seward from Washington," replied the other, "I heard him
make a speech in front of Judge Turner's house."
The eavesdroppers continued to listen, but the conversation between
Judge Nelson and Mr. Seward was carried on in such low tones that they
could make little of it. Now and again they caught a phrase--"more
troops"--"President Lincoln"--"save the Union,"--but the purport of the
matter was beyond them.
The spying youngsters crept into their beds that night laden with a
sense of mystery in this weird consultation, of which they had been
witnesses, between the senior justice of the Supreme Court of the United
States and the Secretary of State of the United States. Next day they
boasted among their comrades of having discovered some secret affair of
state.
Years afterward, through Justice Nelson's son, Judge R. R. Nelson of St.
Paul, Minnesota, it came out that these young spies had rightly divined
the truth. The conference which the Secretary of State held with Justice
Nelson during the small hours of the morning of August 22nd, 1863, was
had at the instance of President Lincoln, and was importantly related to
the conduct of the Civil War. The conference itself, in fact, was the
secret motive of the diplomatic excursion, which had been designed
especially to divert attention from it.
It seems that the administration at Washington had become greatly
worried over a situation that had developed concerning the drafting of
troops. A heavy draft had been ordered,--Otsego county had been called
upon to furnish nearly a thousand men,--and there was great excitement
throughout the northern states. At this critical juncture one of
Justice Nelson's associates on the bench, who was sitting in the United
States Circuit in Pennsylvania, had granted a writ of _habeas corpus_
directing a certain drafted man to be brought before him, and the
position taken by counsel was that the draft was unconstitutional and
illegal. This justice, like Nelson, belonged to the Democratic party,
and was therefore in many ways opposed to the Lincoln administration. He
was known to entertain opinions which might lead him to decide that the
draft was unconstitutional.
President Lincoln became apprehensive, and sent for Secretary Seward.
"We must have more troops," said the President, "and we can get them in
only one way. Now if this draft should be declared unconstitutional, it
would create a most serious state of affairs at the North, and would
greatly encourage the South; it might even defeat our efforts to save
the Union. In some way, if possible, this situation of affairs must be
prevented."
"I know of but one man who can prevent it," replied Seward. "He is a
strong personal friend of the Pennsylvania justice, and of the same
political party, though more loyal to the Union. I think he can
influence him. I refer to Justice Nelson of the Supreme Court, who is
now at his home in Cooperstown."
When the President urged the Secretary to confer with Judge Nelson
without delay, Seward was somewhat taken aback. To summon Nelson to
Washington in order to ask of him so delicate a favor was not to be
thought of. On the other hand for the Secretary of State to go to
Cooperstown to confer with the Democratic justice would be certain to
provoke political gossip and newspaper speculation, at the risk of
defeating the object desired.
But President Lincoln was determined.
"In some way it must be done," he said. "You must see Justice Nelson."
The upshot of the matter was that the fertile brain of the Secretary
evolved and carried out the plan that brought the diplomatic corps from
Washington to Cooperstown on an excursion, under color of which he had
his interview with Justice Nelson.
The result was all that the Secretary of State had hoped for. Judge
Nelson held that the draft was not unconstitutional, and promptly so
informed his friend in Pennsylvania, whose opinion was soon given in
accordance with the views of his learned associate.
Thus "Cooperstown's great day" turned out to be of wider import than the
cheering crowds of villagers imagined.
Justice Nelson's appointment by President Grant in 1871 as one of the
five American members of the Joint High Commission to negotiate a treaty
with Great Britain was a just tribute to his personal character as well
as to his knowledge of international law. The matters in dispute
concerned British possessions in North America, as well as the so-called
Alabama claims arising out of the Civil War. Justice Nelson was already
known by reputation to the British members of the commission, and they
accorded him the fullest respect and confidence. In this controversy,
which rankled in the hearts and affected the judgment of millions of
people, Judge Nelson brought to the solution such wisdom and acuteness,
accompanied by persuasive manners, frankness, conscientiousness, and
learning, that all accorded to him the highest consideration and regard.
His brilliant and successful service in the Joint High Commission during
the seventy days of its sessions was regarded as a fitting culmination
of half a century of public office. For his signature of the Treaty of
Washington turned out to be his last official act. During the final
hours of the session the chill of the rooms in which the commissioners
sat was the cause of an illness from which Justice Nelson never fully
recovered, and which occasioned his resignation from the bench of the
Supreme Court in 1872. In commenting upon his resignation, the _New York
Tribune_ said, "It would be difficult to exaggerate the respect and
regard which will follow this able and incorruptible jurist from the
post he has so long filled with honor to himself and profit to the
commonwealth, when he retires to the well-earned repose which his gifts
of mind and heart will enable him so perfectly to enjoy."
In the village of Cooperstown the street called Nelson Avenue is named
in honor of the distinguished jurist, and three different places of
residence are associated with his memory. When in 1825 he married, as
his second wife, Catharine A. Russell, daughter of Judge John Russell
of Cooperstown, they began housekeeping at Apple Hill, on the site now
occupied by Fernleigh. In 1829 they removed to Fenimore, which still
stands just outside of the village, near the western shore of the lake,
and lived there until 1838, when they took up their residence at Mrs.
Nelson's homestead, the large brick house on the north side of Main
Street near the corner of Pioneer Street, and made it their home for the
rest of their lives.
[Illustration: NELSON AVENUE]
Although Judge Nelson survived Fenimore Cooper by more than twenty
years, he was only three years his junior, and the two men became
intimate personal friends in Cooperstown. They were often seen together
on the street, and in fine personal presence and noble bearing they
bore some resemblance to each other. In the old stone Cory building on
Main Street, when the lower part was conducted as a hardware store,
Judge Nelson and Fenimore Cooper used often to spend an evening, sitting
about the stove in a circle of admiring auditors gathered to hear the
great men talk. It was shortly after Fenimore Cooper's return to
Cooperstown to live at Otsego Hall that Judge Nelson was appointed Chief
Justice of the State, and Cooper ever thereafter spoke of his friend as
"the Chief." The novelist had a good deal of the lawyer in his
composition, and he often discussed legal matters with Judge Nelson, as
well as political affairs of state. Both were fond of farming and rural
pursuits, and as their farms lay on opposite sides of the lake, Judge
Nelson's at Fenimore, and Cooper's at the Chalet, they were able
frequently to compare notes of their success as agriculturists, perhaps
with the more interest because Cooper himself had formerly owned the
farm at Fenimore.
Judge Nelson was not seldom seen on horseback in Cooperstown, and
continued this form of exercise long after he had passed the limit of
three score years and ten. In his later years he was described as a
broad-shouldered and magnificent figure, with a massive head crowned
with a wealth of gray hair. He was simple and unaffected in his manners,
and never assumed any magniloquence because of his exalted position. On
returning from Washington to Cooperstown for the summer, he seemed to
delight in holding a kind of indiscriminate levee in the main street of
the village, greeting old neighbors, shopkeepers, and farmers alike,
and remembering most of them by their Christian names. In those days the
merchants were accustomed to leave their empty packing-boxes on the
sidewalk in front of their shops, and it was no uncommon sight to see
this Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States seated carelessly
on a dry-goods box, while he chatted with a group of admiring villagers.
His conversation was always entertaining, not only because of his wealth
of mind, but on account of his prodigious memory of men and events. His
gift of memory was undoubtedly of great use to him on the bench, for he
could restate complicated facts in cases so long since heard by him that
the issues had been forgotten by the counsel concerned in them.
Judge Nelson was for many years a vestryman, and later a warden, of
Christ Church in Cooperstown. In his day there was no thoroughfare
through the Cooper Grounds, and he walked to church by way of River
Street. Above the stone wall on the west side of River Street was an
abundant growth of tansy. It was Judge Nelson's invariable habit to pick
a sprig of tansy on his way to Sunday morning service, and he entered
the church absently holding the pungent herb to his nostrils, as he made
his way to the pew now marked by a tablet in the north transept.
On February 13, 1873, the honors paid to Judge Nelson on his retirement
from the bench of the United States Supreme Court were of a character
never before known in America, and not in England since Lord Mansfield
was the recipient of similar honors at the hands of Erskine and the
other lights of the British bar. A committee which included several of
the foremost lawyers in New York City, and officially representing the
Bar of the Third District, came in a special car from New York to
Cooperstown to present to Judge Nelson an address expressive of
appreciation of his long service on the bench, and of regret at his
retirement, in sympathy with similar resolutions adopted in Albany and
Washington.
It was a gala day in Cooperstown when its most distinguished citizen was
so honored. The streets, glistening with snow, were filled with people
careering about in sleighs. The American flag flapped in the breeze from
the tall liberty-pole which then stood at the midst of the cross-roads
where Main and Pioneer streets intersect. A horse-race upon the frozen
lake had been arranged for the entertainment of the visitors, and some
of the young people had bob-sleds ready, prepared to give the
distinguished metropolitan lawyers a thrilling ride down the slope of
Mt. Vision when the ceremonies should be over.
In the early afternoon the legal and judicial delegation walked quietly
two by two to the residence of Judge Nelson, which, although now invaded
by the business requirements of the village, still holds its place on
Main Street. In the procession were three federal judges, and a dozen
chosen members of the bar of New York. The door of the old house, at
which nobody stops to knock any more, was thrown open to receive the
distinguished delegation. The villagers had gathered in the
drawing-room, at the left of the entrance, to take part in the
ceremonies. Among many ladies who graced the scene the three daughters
of Fenimore Cooper were particularly noted by the visitors. The retired
judge sat in his armchair, arrayed in black, wearing a high choker
necktie, while Mrs. Nelson, a lovely old lady with a face as fresh at
seventy as a summer rain, supported herself on the arm of the chair. The
judicial delegation came into the parlor led by Judge Woodruff, E. W.
Stoughton, Judge Benedict, and Judge Blatchford, while Clarence A.
Seward, Sidney Webster and others followed. Judge Nelson retained his
seat, and the most impressive silence prevailed. Then Stoughton,
chairman of the committee, after some introductory remarks, read the
address which had been prepared by the Bar of New York.
At the conclusion of this address Judge Nelson drew out his spectacles
and read his reply, in a voice that trembled with emotion. Then he rose
slowly and received the personal congratulations of the delegation and
of the village friends assembled.
When, a few months later, Samuel Nelson was dead, and the press of the
nation was printing lengthy eulogies of his career as a jurist, a few
lines in the little weekly newspaper of his own home town gave the
highest estimate of his life that can be accorded to any man:
"In his home Judge Nelson was a great man. The almost extreme modesty
which characterized his public life had its counterpart in thoroughly
developed domestic virtues, which not only made him beloved to devotion
by all the members of his family, but endeared him to all with whom he
was brought into contact. There was in his disposition a placidness of
temper which made him always easy of approach, and rendered intercourse
with him a permanent spring of pure enjoyment."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 115: From the beginning justices of the Supreme Court of the
United States sat, from time to time, as circuit judges. (Stuart v.
Laird, 1 Cranch, p. 308.) Justice Nelson was assigned to the Second
Circuit, which includes New York.]
[Footnote 116: Perry P. Rogers.]
CHAPTER XVI
CHRIST CHURCHYARD
When in 1856 Frederick A. Lee and Dorr Russell formed the Lakewood
Cemetery Association, and purchased the beautiful tract that lies along
the hill on the east side of the lake, a half-mile from the village, the
older burying-grounds within the town began gradually to be disused.
Christ churchyard, which contains the oldest graves of the original
settlement, has long since ceased to be used for burials, beyond those
occasionally permitted, for special reasons, by act of the Vestry of the
parish. This disuse has secured to the churchyard the right to grow old
gracefully, without the too frequent intrusion of recent death, and to
acquire the picturesque charm of antiquity which in cemeteries seems to
dispel all the terrors of mortality.
The love of old burial-grounds belongs to a distinct type of mind and
temperament. To some minds all cemeteries are equally devoid of
interest. Among visitors in Christ churchyard, of whom there are
thousands during every summer, the classification of sightseers is
automatic. Some glance at Cooper's grave, peep into the church to
glimpse the memorials of the novelist, and hurry away with an air of
duty done. The lovers of churchyards linger, and stroll thoughtfully
among the tombs. They find a charm in the most obscure memorials of the
dead. They read aloud to each other the quaint inscriptions. Now and
again they pause, note-book in hand, to copy some chiseled epitaph that
strikes the fancy. They kneel or lie prone upon the turf before a
crumbling tomb to decipher its doleful couplets, thrusting aside the
concealing grasses, lest a word be missed. They wander here and there
beneath the shadow of the venerable elms and pines, and, before
departing, enter the old church, to rest and pray within the stillness
of its fane.
[Illustration: _Alice Choate_
A GLIMPSE FROM THE RECTORY]
Aside from the part of the churchyard reserved for the burials of the
Cooper family, the only enclosed plot is the small one just south of it,
squared in by a low fence of rusty iron. This belonged to the family of
the Rev. Frederick T. Tiffany, who succeeded Father Nash as rector of
Christ Church, and afterward became a chaplain in Congress.
The oldest tomb in the churchyard holds an inconspicuous place two tiers
east of the Tiffany enclosure. It is the grave of Samuel Griffin, the
inn-keeper's child, who died at the Red Lion Tavern. The gravestone is
dated 1792, which is ancient for this part of the country.
In the first burials within these grounds, it was the intention to
regard the old Christian tradition in accord with which the dead are
buried with the feet toward the east. Yet, since the graves naturally
follow the parallel of the enclosure, which is not exactly east and
west, but conforms to the general bent of the village, they fall short,
by a few points of the compass, of facing due east.
Among the early settlers of Cooperstown there was one family not to be
put off with any vagueness of orientation. It was that of Joshua Starr,
a potter, whom Fenimore Cooper describes as "a respectable inhabitant of
the village." To the mind of Joshua Starr, who survived the other
members of his family, it was plain that if a proper grave should face
east, it should face the east, and not east by south. Accordingly, the
graves of the Starr family, a few steps northward from Samuel Griffin's,
are notable among the tombs of Christ churchyard in being set with the
foot due east, as by a mariner's compass. The wide headstones split the
plane of the meridian; their edges cleave the noonday sun and the polar
star. To the casual observer these three tombstones, as compared with
all others in the churchyard, seem quite awry. In reality they alone are
meticulously correct, a standing tribute to the exact eye of Joshua
Starr, the potter.
Southward from Samuel Griffin's grave, in the next tier to the east, a
curious use of verse appears upon two stones, whereby Capt. Joseph Jones
and his wife Keziah, both dying in 1799, seem to converse in responsive
couplets. Mrs. Jones avers, majestically,
Within this Silent grave I ly.
To which the hero of the Revolution quite meekly replies,
This space is all I occupy.
The crudeness of some epitaphs gives them a grotesque touch of realism.
Here is one just south of the squared-in Tiffany plot:
Mourn not since freed from
human ills,
My dearest friends & two
Infants still,
My consumptive pains God
semed well,
My soul to prepair with
him to dwell.
Northward of this tomb is a sarcophagus that shows a well laid plan in a
state of perpetual incompletion. Besides serving as a monument of the
dead, the tomb was intended to be a kind of family record. The names of
children and grandchildren were inscribed, and as they departed this
life their names were marked with a chiseled asterisk referring to a
foot-note which pronounced them "dead." Four deaths were so recorded;
then the sculptured enrollment was discontinued. Written still among the
living there remain four names, of those who have been long dead, while
the name of one born after the monument was erected, and survivor of all
the others, was never included in the memorial.
Near the orientated tombs of the Starrs the grave of an infant who died
in 1794 bears this epitaph:
Sleep on sweet babe; injoy thy rest:
God call'd the soon, he saw it best.
A more severe view of the Deity appears upon a gravestone six rows east
of this, commemorating James and Tamson Eaton, who died in 1846. Tamson
was fifteen years old, and, as the verse reveals, was a girl:
This youth cut down in all her bloom,
Sent by her God to an early doom
Tamson's brother James was killed by lightning a few months later, and
the event is thus versified:
What voice is that? 'Tis God,
He speaketh from the clouds;
In thunder is concealed the rod
That smites him to the ground.
Near the driveway and toward the church is the tombstone of Mary
Olendorf, which bears these feeling lines:
Tread softly o'er this sacred mound
For Mary lies beneath this ground
May garlands deck and myrtles rise
To guard the Tomb where Mary lies.
A short distance eastward from the centre of the churchyard, and nearly
abreast of the obelisk commemorating Father Nash, stands somewhat apart
the rugged tombstone of Scipio, an old slave. Aside from the graves of
Fenimore Cooper and his father, the founder of the village, not
forgetting the grave of Jenny York,[117] which is the joy of the
churchyard, no tomb in the enclosure receives more attention from
strangers than that of Scipio, with its quaint verses descriptive of the
aged slave.
North of this stone, after passing three intervening tombs, one comes
upon an odd inscription that marks the grave of a fourteen-year-old
boy, who was drowned December 3, 1810:
Thus were Parents bereavd
of a dutiful son and community
of a promising youth, while
pursuing with assiduity the
act of industry.
What this act of industry was that cost the life of young Garrett
Bissell is not related.
A number of those buried in Christ churchyard died violent deaths; one
was murdered, and another was hanged, but that story has been already
told.
"Joe Tom," a negro whose tomb fronts the east end of the churchyard,
where the members of his race were buried apart from the whites, was for
more than a score of years sexton of Christ Church, and when he died, in
1881, had been for a half a century a unique figure in the life of the
village. "Joe Tom" was always the general factotum at public
entertainments, and had won a title as "the politest negro in the
world." Music of a lively sort he scraped from the fiddle or beat upon
the triangle. He was head usher at meetings, chief cook at picnics, a
stentorian prompter at dances, and chief oar at lake excursions.
On one occasion there was to be a burial in the churchyard in the
afternoon, for which Joe had made no preparation before escorting a
picnic party to Three-Mile Point in the morning. Suddenly he remembered
the funeral. Seizing a boat he rowed hastily back to the village,
commenced digging the grave, tolled the bell, and, while the funeral
service was being held in the church, completed his task, standing ready
with solemn visage to perform the final duty of casting the earth upon
the coffin. He then went back to the Point, and finished the day by
escorting his party home. Not infrequently his day's work was protracted
far into the night. If there was a midnight country dance the tinkle of
his triangle could be heard until near sunrise, and often he was seen
returning by daylight from some nocturnal festivity, fast asleep in a
farmer's wagon.[118]
If his versatile life rendered him somewhat uncertain at times in the
discharge of his duties as sexton of Christ Church, he never failed to
disarm criticism by his plausible and polite excuses. In his day the
bell rope was operated from the vestibule of the church, and Joe Tom,
arrayed in Sunday finery, was a familiar figure to church-goers, as he
stood in the church porch tolling the bell with measured stroke, and
inclining his woolly head with each motion to the entrance of every
worshipper.
Joe was born in slavery in the island of Barbadoes, and was brought,
when quite young, to Cooperstown, by Joseph D. Husbands. Few persons in
his day were better known than Joe Tom, yet, in his latter years, ill
health withdrew him from public notice, and at his funeral he was laid
away in the churchyard, unsung, if not unwept. A contemporary expressed
a hope that the dead can have no knowledge of their own obsequies, for
"poor Joe, who was the very soul of music, would hardly have been
satisfied with a service in which not a key was struck, or note raised
for one who had so often tuned his harp for others."
[Illustration: THE COOPER PLOT, CHRIST CHURCHYARD]
Within the Cooper enclosure in Christ churchyard, the grave of Susan
Fenimore Cooper attracts the attention of all who are familiar with
local history. A daughter of the novelist, Miss Cooper's memory is
revered in Cooperstown for qualities all her own. After her father's
death her home was at Byberry Cottage. She gained more than local fame,
in her time, as a graceful writer, and was distinguished for her
knowledge of the birds and flowers of Otsego hills. But her life-work
was given to the Orphan House of the Holy Saviour, which she established
in 1870, where homeless and destitute children were cared for and
educated, and where now, on the broader basis of the Susan Fenimore
Cooper Foundation, unusual opportunities for vocational training are
extended to boys and girls. Nor shall it be forgotten that, while others
gave more largely of funds, the Thanksgiving Hospital, founded in
gratitude for the close of the Civil War, originated in Miss Cooper's
heart and mind.
A memorial window in Christ Church idealizes in form and color the
spirit of this noble woman, without attempting portraiture. A real
likeness of Miss Cooper, as she appeared in her ripest years, would
recall a sweet face framed in dangling curls, a manner somewhat prim,
but always gentle and placid, a figure slight and spare, with a bonnet
and Paisley shawl that are all but essential to the resemblance. She
would best be represented in the midst of orphan children whom she
catechises for the benefit of some visiting dignitary, while the little
rascals, taking advantage of her growing deafness, titter forth the most
palpable absurdities in reply, sure of her benignant smile and
commendatory "Very good; very good indeed!"
One of Miss Cooper's most devoted helpers in the early days of the
Orphan House was Dr. Wilson T. Bassett, who for many years gave his
professional services without charge, and greatly interested himself in
the welfare of the children. Dr. Bassett was for a long time the most
widely known physician and surgeon of the region, while his wife, who
followed the same profession, was the pioneer woman physician of Otsego
county, and did much to allay the popular prejudice against women in the
field of medicine. Dr. Wilson Bassett became noted as an expert witness
in medical cases that were carried to court, and in murder trials when
insanity had been set up as a defence. The resourcefulness which he
displayed on such occasions led to his being described as "the most
accomplished witness that has ever been placed upon the stand in Otsego
county." Dr. Bassett's personal appearance marked him as belonging to
the old school. He was the last man in Cooperstown to wear a black stock
about his collar. His face suggested both firmness and a sense of humor.
The quality of decision appeared in the mouth which the smooth-shaven
upper lip displayed above the white chin-whisker, while the tousled
shock of white hair and twinkling blue eyes were indicative of the
whimsical turn of mind that manifested itself in witty and sententious
sayings. His long experience in the court-room made him alive to the
vast expense which the trial and punishment of criminals imposes upon
the State, and led to his belief that criminality is usually to be
attributed to lack of proper training in youth. His favorite plea for
the support of the children in Miss Cooper's orphanage was "It's cheaper
to educate 'em than to hang 'em!" The daughter of the two physicians,
Dr. Mary Imogene Bassett, inherited the talent of both parents, and
later enjoyed the singular distinction, while still in active practice,
of having a monument erected to commemorate her professional career,
when, in 1917, Edward Severin Clark began to build the Mary Imogene
Bassett Hospital and Pathological Laboratory, merging with it the
traditions of the older Thanksgiving Hospital.
[Illustration: _J. B. Slote_
A FUNERAL IN CHRIST CHURCHYARD]
Christ churchyard has been the scene of many impressive funerals, when,
as in olden times, the unity of design in the order for Burial has been
carried out, so that the outdoor function appears as a natural sequence
to the service of the sanctuary, and is connected with it by an orderly
processional from the church to the churchyard. Here, in the glory of
summer foliage, is a superb setting for such a service; and the rare
occasions of interments within this quaint God's acre are long
remembered by those who witness them. After the service in the church
the procession of choir and clergy, headed by the crucifer, issues from
the doorway, followed by stalwart men carrying the bier upon their
shoulders. The mourners and congregation come reverently after, and with
the thrilling chorus of some hymn of triumph over death the procession
moves slowly to the grave. The sunshine sifts through the foliage of the
over-arching trees, glitters upon the processional cross, gleams upon
the white robes of the choristers, and transforms into a mantle of glory
the pall that drapes the body of the dead. A solemn hush falls upon the
company as the priest steps forward for the formal act of burial. The
dust flashes in the sunbeams as it falls from his hand into the open
grave, while the rhythmic phrases of the committal float once again over
the consecrated ground. No words in the English tongue have vibrated
more deeply in human hearts than the majestic and exultant avowal of
faith with which the Church consigns to the grave the bodies of her
dead.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 117: See p. 306.]
[Footnote 118: _A Few Omitted Leaves_, G. P. Keese.]
CHAPTER XVII
FROM APPLE HILL TO FERNLEIGH
Cooperstown had its representation in the Civil War, for, aside from the
soldiers who enlisted from the village, it was a former schoolboy of
Apple Hill, Captain Abner Doubleday, in command of the batteries at Fort
Sumter, who aimed the first big gun fired in defence of the Union.
Another officer from Cooperstown, Lieut. Marmaduke Cooper, died at
Fortress Monroe; a third, Lieut. Morris Foote, was taken prisoner, and
escaped, with thrilling experiences, from a detention camp in South
Carolina; while his brother, Lieut. Frank Foote, lost a leg in the
battle of the Wilderness, for three months was mourned as dead by his
family, and had the pleasure, on his return to Cooperstown, of reading
his own obituary.
Among the citizens who stayed at home during the war were some who did
much to stir up Union sentiment in Cooperstown, where the political
opinions of not a few had taken the form of opposition to the Northern
cause. Among these enthusiasts was John Worthington, who was cashier in
the bank established by his father, John R. Worthington, in a building
which stood on the north side of Main Street not far west of Fair
Street. There were then two divisions of the Democratic party, known as
"War Democrats" and "Peace Democrats." The motto of the latter, as
applied to the Southern States, was "Erring sisters, go in peace." This
was too much for Worthington, who caused a large banner to be stretched
across the entire front of the Worthington Bank, surmounted by the Stars
and Stripes, and the words, "Victory will bring Peace."
Worthington had a strong spirit of adventure in his composition, and,
just before the war, had astonished the village by one of his
characteristic exploits. In July a traveling aeronaut had appeared on
the Fair Grounds, which were then in the region of the village south of
Christ Church, proposing to make a series of flights for the
entertainment of the public. He had an enormous balloon which was
floated by being filled with heated air and smoke. The first ascension
was a great success, and the aeronaut landed safely beyond the top of
Mount Vision. When the next flight was to be made, just as the inflation
was completed, John Worthington stepped out of the crowd, and asked to
take the place of the aeronaut, who readily consented. There was a
southerly breeze, and the balloon, as it sailed over the village, barely
escaped the top of Christ Church spire. It then rose straight upward
and, as the air within it cooled, began rapidly to descend. By a strange
coincidence the balloon dropped in the main street, within a short
distance of the Worthington Bank, at the very moment when its
proprietor was descending the steps. The street was agog at the sudden
appearance of the balloon, but none was more amazed than the elder
Worthington when he saw his own son extricating himself from the folds
of smoking cloth.
"John," he called out in astonishment, "Did you go up in that balloon?"
"I came down in it," said John, and would admit no more.
John Worthington was many years afterward included as a belated member
of the Shakespeare Reading Club, an organization which began in 1877,
and held regular meetings, with reading of the plays and of original
papers by the members, during a period of thirty years. This
organization, with the Cooperstown Literary Association, kept up the
intellectual traditions of the village during the latter part of the
nineteenth century.
The Shakespeare Club included the choice minds of the town, and the
study of the master poet was undertaken with becoming reverence. While
Worthington's sisters were already members of the club, and Worthington
himself was second to none in the village in keenness of literary
appreciation, he was notorious for eccentricities of whimsical wit and
humor, and it was only after long deliberation that it was finally
decided to elect him to membership. His first appearance at a meeting of
the club gave rise to an unforeseen situation, for the order in which
the members sat about the table had become fixed by traditions of
precedence, and the attempt to place another chair caused a flutter of
debate in politely subdued voices. Worthington was kept standing while
this discussion was going on, and suddenly astounded the company by
gravely seating himself upon the floor.
John Worthington was appointed United States consul in Malta under
President Arthur, and continued in office under Cleveland's first
administration. This was the heyday of his life. In Malta he made
friends in the army and navy and diplomatic service of many nations. His
conversational gifts and capricious drollery gave him great social
popularity in the brilliant shifting throng that passed through the
gates of the Mediterranean, and his wife, who was Cora Lull, of New
Berlin, was charmingly adapted by nature and acquirements to the graces
of diplomatic life. During his term of service at Malta in 1883
Worthington was instrumental in removing the body of John Howard Payne,
author of "Home, Sweet Home," from the cemetery in Carthage, Tunis, to
the United States. He made a stubborn effort to procure a band to play
Payne's song as the remains left Tunis aboard the ship homeward bound,
but not anyone could play "Home, Sweet Home," although Worthington had
brought the notes with him. However, after the disinterment, of which
Worthington was a witness, the body was placed in the chapel of the
little English church, and a few Americans and English reverently
gathered there, while Mrs. Worthington, who was known as "Cooperstown's
sweetest singer," sang touchingly the famous song of home, written by
the man who had no home during the last forty years of his life, and
whose body, thirty years after his death, was going home at last to be
interred in its native soil.
While traveling in Egypt, Worthington had an audience with the Khedive,
Tewfik Pasha Mohammed, in his palace on the Nile. The conversation was
formal and perfunctory, until, in reply to an amiable inquiry,
Worthington stated that his home was in a village, in New York State,
named Cooperstown. At the mention of this name the Khedive exhibited
genuine interest.
"Cooperstown," he repeated, "Is not Cooperstown the home of Fenimore
Cooper, the great author?"
It was now Worthington's turn to exhibit interest, for in boyhood he had
been next door neighbor to Cooper; and he asked if his Highness was
acquainted with the writings of the novelist. The Khedive had read all
of Cooper's books. Some of them he cared little for, but those he did
care for he loved. _The Leather-Stocking Tales_ had opened a new world
to him, and he was charmed. _The Deerslayer_ he "adored." The sublime
and shadowy forests, the silent lakes high up in evergreen hills, the
cool rivers--how they captivated his imagination! how they invited his
soul! He would, he exclaimed, give a year of his life if he might view
the Glimmerglass, if he might tread a forest trail. In his library the
Khedive showed to his visitor, with evident satisfaction, his three
magnificent sets of Cooper's works, in French, in German, and in
English.
John Worthington's later days were passed in Cooperstown, where he lived
to be the village man of letters, delighting his contemporaries with
contributions of picturesque prose and graceful verse that would have
given him a wider renown had he written otherwise than, as it seemed,
for the mere pleasure of writing for the entertainment of his friends.
His twelve years of service at Malta, with many excursions in the
ancient world, developed in him an oriental color of mind, and gave even
to the Otsego of his childhood, when he returned hither to live, the
dreamy glamour of the mystic East. At home he lived altogether among
books, and in the companionship of poetic imagination passed the years
of almost exile from Malta, his fondest retrospect. A winning soul was
John Worthington, widely beloved for what he was, and mourned for all
that he might have been.
During the Civil War a girl of extraordinary beauty and vivacity,
skilled as a musician, drew many suitors to her home, the house which
still stands at the southwest corner of Pioneer and Elm streets. Her
name was Elizabeth Davis, and her happy disposition made her a universal
favorite in the community. Toward the close of the war she suffered a
disappointment in love, the exact nature of which was not made known,
but so seriously affecting her attitude toward life that she registered
a solemn vow never again to be seen in public. From this time forth she
kept to the house, although it was said that she sometimes walked about
at night. Years passed. Father, mother, brother, and sister, followed
one another to the grave, until Elizabeth Davis became the only
inhabitant of the old house. Nobody ever saw her except a negro who
brought her supplies. In the village there grew up a new generation to
which she was a stranger. The windows of the house showed an abundance
of the choicest plants, always carefully tended. Passers-by often
arrested their steps to listen to the sound of a piano splendidly played
within. But nobody ever caught a glimpse of a face or form. The most
that the nearest neighbors saw was a hand and arm that were stretched
forth from the windows every evening to close the blinds. Thus Elizabeth
Davis lived for more than thirty years after the close of the war, and
carried her secret to the grave.
In the time of the Civil War the favorite reading matter of the soldiers
in camp and hospital throughout the northern armies was supplied by the
enterprise of Erastus F. Beadle, who had learned the publishing business
in the employment of the Phinneys in Cooperstown, himself being a native
of Pierstown, just over the hill. He became known throughout the United
States as the publisher of "Beadle's Dime Novels," and on his retirement
from business in 1889 purchased "Glimmerview," the residence which
overlooks the lake next east of the O-te-sa-ga. Here he died in 1894.
This inventor of the "dime novel" made an amazing success of publishing
paper-covered books adapted to the popular taste on a scale of cheapness
and in quantities which had never before been dreamed of. After leaving
Cooperstown, he began business for himself in Buffalo, publishing
magazines, and on his removal to New York, in 1858, discovered, in the
publication of "The Dime Song Book," the field which he afterward made
so profitable. To the song books were added, in rapid succession, the
"Household Manual," the "Letter Writer," and the "Book of Etiquette." In
the summer of 1860 the Dime Novels were started. These little
salmon-covered books became immediately popular all over the country,
and the business grew to vast proportions, until Beadle had about
twenty-five writers employed in the composition of stories for his
imprint. The business was afterward expanded to include the publication
of popular "Libraries,"--the Dime Library, the Boy's Library, the Pocket
Library, and the Half-Dime Library. After his retirement from business,
as a resident of Cooperstown, Beadle did much for the development of the
village.
[Illustration: MAIN STREET
Looking west from Fair Street, 1861. The Clark Gymnasium displaces the
two buildings at the left.]
The village had troubles of its own during the progress of the war. In
the spring of 1862, a disastrous fire, the largest conflagration in the
history of Cooperstown, destroyed at least a third of the business
district. The fire started near the Cory stone building, which alone
survived of the stores and shops in the path of the flames that spread
on the north side of Main Street, and extended from the building next to
the present Mohican Club as far east as Pioneer Street. The fire then
crossed to the south side of Main Street, destroying the old Eagle
Tavern, originally the Red Lion, and burning westward as far as the
present Carr's Hotel. Up Pioneer Street, on the west side the flames ate
their way as far south as the Phinney residence. The buildings at the
eastern corners of Main and Pioneer streets were several times on fire,
and were saved only by supreme efforts of the village firemen. The
survival of the Cory building was due in part to its solid stone
construction, but chiefly to the efforts of two plucky men, David P.
House and George Newell, who stationed themselves on the roof, and while
the fire worked its way around the rear of the building, succeeded in
defending their position, although so terribly scorched that for weeks
afterward they went about swathed in bandages.
A few nights later the Otsego Hotel and adjacent buildings, which stood
on the site of the present Village Library, were also destroyed by fire.
At this conflagration, which seemed about to complete the destruction of
Main Street, a woman appeared, who equalled the courage of the firemen
in her defiance of the flames. She was Susan Hewes, a maiden lady who
kept a milliner's shop in the little one-story building that stands on
the north side of the Main Street, a short distance west of the corner
of Fair Street. Emulating the example of the men who saved the Cory
building, she appeared on the roof of her little shop, and presented a
dramatic spectacle as she stood forth in the glare of the flames, crying
out that she would save her property at the cost of her life.
Fortunately the flames were checked without any such sacrifice, and
Susan Hewes lived to become, more than half a century afterward, the
oldest native inhabitant of the village, famous for the old-fashioned
tangled garden on Pine Street, where she dwelt so long among her
favorite flowers. During the Civil War period she was a marked figure in
the village, for her outspoken independence in expressing sympathy for
the Southern cause led to a visit of remonstrance with which a committee
of leading citizens honored her in her little milliner's shop; while her
refusal to submit to the dictates of fashion when the huge hoop-skirts
came into vogue caused her to be gazed upon as a marvel of
incompleteness in dress.
For a time Cooperstown was much depressed by the ruin which fire had
wrought in the village, but, before long, a new business section began
slowly to rise from the ashes of the old. West of Pioneer Street, where
the Eagle Tavern had narrowed the width of the main thoroughfare to the
dimensions of a mere lane, the street was now made of uniform width, and
new business blocks were erected. By the close of the Civil War all
signs of destruction had disappeared, and the Main street of
Cooperstown, if far less picturesque than before, had assumed the
appearance of brand new prosperity.
This period, in fact, marks the beginning of a gradual change in the
character of Cooperstown, by which an elderly village, typical in its
inherited traditions, has taken on the airs of a summer resort, and has
become the residence, for a part of each year, of wealthy families whose
chief interests lie elsewhere, and to whom Otsego is a playground. While
much of the older character of the village remains, the contact with the
outer world has had a far-reaching effect upon its inhabitants.
Some of the old-fashioned merchants were at first inclined to resent the
demands made by city folk in excess of the time-honored customs of trade
in Cooperstown. Seth Doubleday kept a store at the northwest corner of
Main and Pioneer streets. One day a lady from the city came in airily,
ordered a mackerel delivered at her summer home in the village, and was
out again before Doubleday could recover his breath. At that period all
villagers went to market with a basket, and carried their own goods
home. Nobody thought of having purchases delivered by the merchant.
Doubleday was enraged at what seemed to him an insolent demand, and the
longer he reflected on the matter the more furious did he become. At
last, leaving his shop unattended, he went in person to the customer's
house to deliver the mackerel. The lady herself opened the door.
Doubleday took the fish by the tail, and slapped it down vigorously upon
the doorstep, exclaiming, "There, madam, is your damned three-cent
mackerel, and _delivered_!"
The new phase of village life may perhaps be dated from the purchase of
the Apple Hill property by Edward Clark of New York, who, in 1856, made
his summer home here, and after the close of the Civil War erected his
mansion. The establishment of this country-seat was but the beginning of
the extension of Edward Clark's estate in this region, and created a
relationship to the village which his descendants have ever since
continued.
"Apple Hill," as the place was called before Edward Clark's purchase, or
"Fernleigh," as he renamed it, is thus a connecting link between the old
and the new in Cooperstown. It has a story that brings the elder
traditions of the village into touch with the newer spirit of modern
enterprise.
Apple Hill was originally the property of Richard Fenimore Cooper,
eldest son of the founder of the village. In the summer of 1800 he built
the house which stood until displaced by Fernleigh House in 1869.
Fenimore Cooper described the site as "much the best within the limits
of the village," no doubt with reference to the superb view of the
Susquehanna which the veranda at the rear of the house commands. Richard
Cooper planted the black walnut and locust trees, some of which are yet
standing in front of the house at Fernleigh. To the home at Apple Hill
he brought from the head of the lake as a bride, Anne Cary, who after
his death became the wife of George Clarke of Hyde Hall.
From 1825 to 1828 Apple Hill was the residence of the afterward
distinguished Judge Samuel Nelson, and during the next five years was
owned and occupied by General John A. Dix, who had resigned from the
army, and settled down in Cooperstown to practise law. His first cases
were prepared in a little office that stood near the gate of the Apple
Hill property. At that time it is said that he made a poor impression as
a public speaker, and gave small promise of his later fame. In 1833 he
became secretary of state of New York, and afterward was United States
Senator. During the Civil War he raised seventeen regiments, and as
Secretary of the Treasury at the outbreak of the war issued the famous
order which first convinced the country that the executive government at
Washington was really determined to meet force with force: "If anyone
attempts to pull down the American flag, shoot him on the spot!" After
the war General Dix was minister to France, and in 1872 was elected
Governor of the State of New York. Among the children of General Dix
who played hide-and-seek amid the trees of Apple Hill was Morgan Dix,
afterward the distinguished rector of Trinity parish, New York, who in
later years passed many summers in Cooperstown. It was remembered of Dr.
Dix's childhood that when his mother sent him away from Cooperstown to
school, being apprehensive of his safe conduct on the journey, she put
him into the stage-coach completely enveloped in a green baize bag that
she had made for the purpose, with nothing but the boy's head emerging
from the opening which was snugly tied around his neck. Dr. Dix's last
visit to Cooperstown was in 1891 when he was a guest at the Cooper
House, and was driven forth, with two hundred and fifty other guests, by
the fire which burned it to the ground in the early dawn of the eighth
of August. This summer hotel stood within the grounds occupied by the
Present High School. Its burning was a calamity to Cooperstown, for
under the management of Simeon E. Crittenden it had become widely
famous, and drew guests from every part of the country.
From 1833 to 1839 Apple Hill was the home of Levi C. Turner, who married
the daughter of Robert Campbell, and afterward was for some years county
judge. During the Civil War Turner was Judge Advocate in the War
Department under President Lincoln, concerning whom he had many intimate
reminiscences.
In early days, before the common school system was developed, there were
many attempts to establish private schools in Cooperstown, with more or
less success. John Burroughs, the famous naturalist, received the last
of his schooling in the spring and summer of 1856 at the Cooperstown
Seminary, afterward converted into the summer hotel known as the Cooper
House.
But of all the private schools in the village the most noted was
established at Apple Hill in 1839 by William H. Duff, a former officer
of the British Army, and a graduate of Trinity College, Dublin. Duff had
a romantic history, involved in a good deal of mystery. He had emigrated
from England to Canada, bringing with him a beautiful young wife,--an
elopement, it was said. Mrs. Duff was evidently of gentle birth, while
her husband was of commanding presence, military bearing, and
captivating manners. Whether he was entitled to the rank of Major, which
he assumed, was always doubted.
Duff was well informed in all branches of army tactics, and the school
that he established was well known as a military academy. The
institution became popular, and the boys in their uniforms gave a new
and welcome touch of color to the life of the village. The afternoon
drills were witnessed by many spectators, and when the school increased
until a mounted field-piece, drawn by four horses, was added to the
equipment, the exhibit became quite sensational. Few pupils of that day
could ever forget the winter drills on the frozen lake, with the
thermometer near zero, as requiring an endurance worthy of hardier
veterans.
One incident connected with the school made a sensation at the time.
During the winter of 1840 a strong party of Indians found their way to
the village, and remained for several days. One of them got into a
drunken bout, and died quite suddenly. Shortly after the departure of
the band the rumor was circulated among the loungers in the streets that
the friends of the dead Indian suspected foul play, and were coming from
their encampment on the following night to wreak vengeance upon the
village. These flying rumors came to the ears of some of the pupils of
Duff's Academy, who hastened to communicate the alarming intelligence to
their principal. Whether Duff really accepted the truth of the reports,
or wished to test the military efficiency and courage of his pupils, he
promptly called his troops together, delivered an impressive harangue on
the danger of the situation and the glory to be won by rallying to the
defence of the village against a savage foe. Plans were soon made to
repel the attack. Muskets were made ready for service. Some boys were
sent into the village for powder, others for lead from which they were
soon actively engaged in moulding bullets. A detachment was sent to
remove to the house all effects from the schoolroom which stood near the
gate, and the doors and windows of the house were strongly barricaded.
Preparations were made to patrol the village at night, and the school
was detailed into squads, who were to protect the principal streets.
Sentries paced from the house to the gate, and from Christ churchyard
to the corner of Main Street, while outposts were stationed across the
river who were to give warning of the enemy's approach by the discharge
of a musket. The younger boys were left at home on guard at the doors
and windows of the house. As the midnight hour approached Major Duff
sallied forth and inspected the disposal of his forces. During the long
winter darkness of that night the boys marched up and down the village
streets, with imaginations so fearfully wrought up as to deny the need
of sleep which lay heavy upon them. If any of the inhabitants of the
village sympathized in this watchfulness in their behalf, or kept awake
to see what was going on, there was no evidence of it. The boys were
left to their vigil. They passed the night in anxious watching. No
Indians appeared, and all danger was dispelled by the rays of the rising
sun.
Too much prosperity was the ruin of Duff's school. It became so
successful that the principal neglected duty for pleasure, leaving the
school in charge of subordinates. Then, in less than five years from its
beginning, it failed. At the outbreak of the Mexican War, Duff obtained
a captain's commission in the United States Army, and when last seen by
his old friends he presented an imposing appearance as he rode down
Broadway in New York at the head of his company, with martial music and
flying colors, to embark for Vera Cruz.[119]
George A. Starkweather purchased Apple Hill in 1847, and lived there
until he sold it in 1856 to Edward Clark. The latter had been attracted
to Cooperstown as at one time the home of his distinguished
father-in-law, and law-partner, Ambrose L. Jordan. Mrs. Clark, who was
Jordan's eldest child, was born while the Jordans were resident in
Cooperstown in the house which still stands at the northwest corner of
Main and Chestnut streets, and after they removed to Hudson the daughter
was sent back to Cooperstown to attend the boarding school which was
conducted for a time in Isaac Cooper's old house at Edgewater. It was
through these associations that Edward Clark and his bride, after their
marriage in 1836, began to be frequent visitors in Cooperstown.
In the year 1848 Isaac M. Singer had become a client of Jordan & Clark
in New York City. He was an erratic genius, and had taken up various
occupations without much success, besides having invented valuable
mechanical devices which had brought him no profit. The form of
sewing-machine that he invented, and which has ever since been
associated with his name, was not profitable at first, and under
Singer's management the title to the invention became involved, and was
likely to be lost. In this emergency the inventor applied to his legal
adviser, Clark, to advance the means to redeem an interest of one-third
in the sewing-machine invention and business, and to hold that share as
security for money advanced. Afterward was formed the co-partnership of
I. M. Singer & Co., in which Clark was the legal adviser and half
owner. The business was carried on by this firm with great success from
1851 to 1863, during which period Edward Clark established his residence
in Cooperstown. After Singer's death Clark became president of the
Singer Manufacturing Company.
[Illustration: FERNLEIGH]
Edward Clark spent many winters in Europe, residing at different times
in Paris and in Rome, but his summers were usually devoted to
Cooperstown, and the present stone house at Fernleigh was his summer
home for twenty-three years. When this house was erected it was regarded
as a wonder. It took four years in building, and was indeed of
remarkable workmanship, with substantial masonry and the most exquisite
elaborations of woodwork. But it had the misfortune to be built in the
"black walnut period," when taste in domestic architecture was at a low
ebb, so that much of the interior, and some of the exterior, has since
been altered. The stone building southwest of the house was built as a
Turkish bath.
In 1873, Edward Clark purchased Fernleigh-Over from the Bowers estate,
and from time to time added to his property in Cooperstown, notably in
the purchase of farms on either side of the lake. He became much
identified with the interests of the village, and built the Hotel
Fenimore.
Edward Clark was entranced by Otsego Lake, upon which he spent much time
in sailing. His _Nina_ and _Elise_ were beautiful sailing yachts, and
would have been an ornament to any waters. Clark was described by
village contemporaries as a man of somewhat peculiar temperament. He was
naturally reticent, and seemed to be most highly appreciated by his
intimates. In educational matters he was greatly interested, having
given largely to Williams College, of which he was a graduate and Doctor
of Laws. He contributed generously to the welfare of the schools of
Cooperstown, in which he established the Clark Punctuality prizes. In
Cooperstown, and elsewhere, he did much charitable work in a quiet way.
In 1876 Kingfisher Tower was completed, which Edward Clark had caused
to be erected at Point Judith, about two miles from Cooperstown, on the
eastern shore of Otsego Lake. It was said that Clark's motive in
building the tower was to furnish work for many in the community who
were out of employment. Scoffers referred to the building derisively as
"Clark's folly." At the request of a village newspaper, Clark himself
wrote an account of it which was published anonymously.
[Illustration: _M. Antoinette Abrams_
KINGFISHER TOWER]
"Kingfisher Tower," he wrote, "consists of a miniature castle, after
the style of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, standing upon the
extremity of the Point and rising out of the water to a height of nearly
sixty feet. It forms an objective point in the scene presented by the
lake and surrounding hills; it adds solemnity to the landscape, seeming
to stand guard over the vicinity, while it gives a character of
antiquity to the lake, a charm by which we cannot help being impressed
in such scenes. The effect of the structure is that of a picture from
medieval times, and its value to the lake is very great. Mr. Clark has
been led to erect it simply by a desire to beautify the lake and add an
attraction which must be seen by all who traverse the lake or drive
along its shores. They whose minds can rise above simple notions of
utility to an appreciation of art joined to nature, will thank him for
it."
When Edward Clark died, in 1882, his youngest and only surviving son,
Alfred Corning Clark, much of whose life had been spent abroad,
inherited the greater part of his father's property, and became
proprietor of Fernleigh.
Alfred Corning Clark possessed in a magnified degree certain qualities
which had distinguished his father. He was more retiring, more reticent,
more inclined to find the full joy of life only among intimates. He
became a patron of art and music, and himself an amateur in singing. He
built Mendelssohn Hall, in New York, for the use of a musical
organization to which he belonged. Of books he was not only a lover, but
a student, devoted to the classics, and well versed in modern
languages. In the village of Cooperstown he was known as a bookworm. He
enjoyed walking about his own grounds, but hardly ever went into the
village, and there were many residents of Cooperstown who had never seen
his face. The proprietor of the corner book store in his day remarked
that he had never but once seen Alfred Corning Clark in the village
street, and this was when he had an errand at the book store to make an
inquiry concerning a newly published volume.
In the use of his great fortune Clark was extremely liberal in charities
and toward such other objects as commended themselves to his judgment;
while he was correspondingly powerful in opposition to whatever involved
a principle with which he disagreed.
Mrs. Clark, who was Elizabeth Scriven, was a woman of exceptional gifts
of mind and benignance of character, well qualified to assume the
responsibilities which fell upon her when Alfred Corning Clark died, at
the age of fifty-three years, in 1896. With cultivated tastes, she had
also a practical talent for business, and, although well served by
agents in the management of her large interests, was always thoroughly
informed and full of initiative. In New York, among men of affairs, she
was regarded as one of the most far-seeing judges of real estate values
in the city. In the management of her domestic and other concerns she
had an extraordinary faculty for administration, which failed of
attaining genius only through the effort which she put forth to give
personal attention to details. This amiable weakness nevertheless added
the interest of her personality to undertakings that might have failed
for the lack of such a spirit as hers; and in her many charities the
personal touch which she took the trouble to give added infinitely to
the happiness and self-respect of those to whom her kindness, as in
neighborly thoughtfulness, was extended.
In Cooperstown Mrs. Clark became an arbiter of the social and moral
virtues, and the things that she frowned upon were usually not done. She
had a wholesome influence in resisting certain excesses which not seldom
appear in communities partly given over to the pursuit of pleasure. In
some innovations against which she protested, Mrs. Clark at last
gracefully yielded to the inevitable. This was the case with
automobiles, which, when they first appeared upon the country roads, she
regarded with the alarm and disgust of one devoted to a carriage and
horses, and would have banished them from Otsego if she had had the
power. In that period of transition few country roads were adapted to
the use of motors, and to meet one of the new machines while driving in
a carriage along the lake shore was to suffer the apprehension of
imminent death from the fury of plunging horses, and to be nearly choked
in a cloud of dust.
Mrs. Clark was fond of walking, and she was a familiar figure in the
residence streets of the village in summer, usually dressed in white,
without a bonnet, and carrying a white parasol above her head, as she
moved with quick step upon some errand.
The homestead at Fernleigh represents much that has contributed to the
development of Cooperstown. The greater part of the industry controlled
by the Clark estates is managed from the offices of the Singer Building
in New York, which when it was erected in 1909 was the tallest office
building in the world. But a large part of the interests of the estates
is centered in the picturesque old building, originally built for a
bank, which stands near the entrance of the Cooper Grounds in
Cooperstown. The Cooper Grounds themselves were rescued from a condition
of desolation in which they had lain for many years after the death of
Fenimore Cooper, and are maintained by the Clark estates for the benefit
of the public. The Village Club and Library across the way is a creation
of the Clark estates. On the hills east and west of the village, and
along the eastern shore of the lake for a stretch of nearly six miles,
the same ownership has preserved for all lovers of nature the noble
forests that lend a charm of wildness to the region.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 119: _A Few Omitted Leaves_, Keese, p. 12; _History of
Cooperstown_, Livermore, p. 46.]
CHAPTER XVIII
THE LAKE OF ROMANCE AND FISHERMEN
The period from 1870 to 1880 was one of rapid growth and development in
Cooperstown. The permanent population increased to over two thousand
souls, and a number of fine summer residences were erected. Almost all
of its natural advantages Cooperstown owes to Otsego Lake. These had
been long appreciated by residents of the village, and now began to be
generally sought by visitors from afar. In summer, the shores of the
lake come to be dotted with the camp-houses and tents of those who
sought relief from the swelter of cities in the cool forests of Otsego,
and found delight in the sailing and fishing for which the Glimmerglass
is famous.
[Illustration: _J. B. Slote_
THE LAKE FROM THE O-TE-SA-GA]
In the summer of 1870 Capt. Daniel B. Boden began regular steam
navigation of Otsego Lake by means of a small steamboat which he had
brought to Cooperstown by railroad, and which had been used as a gunboat
in Southern waters during the Civil War. The boat was renamed the _Mary
Boden_. In the following summer a rival steamboat was launched, much
larger than the former, called the _Natty Bumppo_, and owned principally
by A. H. Watkins and Elihu Phinney. At the beginning of the next season
the conservative folk of the village were scandalized by the _Mary
Boden_, which then commenced to make lake trips on Sunday, a breach of
ancient custom in which the owners of the _Natty Bumppo_ indignantly
declined to compete. On a night early in July there was an alarm of
fire, a great blaze at the lake front, and villagers running to the
scene found that one of the steamboats was in flames and beyond hope of
salvage. A small child at a front window of Edgewater, watching the
fire, clapped her hands, and cried out, "It's the wicker [wicked] boat!
It's the wicker boat!" But it was not the wicked boat that was ablaze.
It was the _Natty Bumppo_, which burned to the water's edge a total
loss, the boat that had never left its dock on Sunday. The event was
long recalled by some in the village as an instance of grave error in
the usually correct dispensations of Providence. The _Natty Bumppo_ was
replaced, in the next season, by a new steamboat bearing the same name.
The new _Natty Bumppo_ and the old _Mary Boden_ were the famous boats of
the lake until they were succeeded by the _Pioneer_ and the _Cyclone_,
and later by the _Deerslayer_, the _Pathfinder_, and the _Mohican_.
Aside from the use of canoes, the first general navigation of the lake
was undertaken in 1794 by a man known as Admiral Hassy, who in his day
was the most celebrated fisherman of Otsego. He had a large flat boat
which he called the ship _Jay_, and upon which he used boards for sails.
This craft was safe, but not speedy.
Some thirty years later a group of enterprising individuals built a
horse-boat as a means of transporting lake parties. The boat had at each
end a high cabin topped by a platform. These excrescences caught
whatever breeze was blowing, and made the craft unmanageable. The
struggles of the two poor horses who were expected to propel the boat
were not equal to a gale of Pierstown trade-winds. More than once a lake
party starting for Three-Mile Point, aboard this vessel, found itself
stranded on the opposite shore.
During the first half of the century a "general lake party" in the
summer corresponded to the "select ball" of each winter as constituting
one of the two great social events of the year in Cooperstown. It ought
to be said that the term "lake party" had a distinct social
significance, and the word "picnic," which came later to be used to
describe the same thing, meant to the elder inhabitants an affair that
had quite lost the flavor of the older custom, and the use of the word
was regarded as one of the signs of social decadence.
The means of navigation most often used by the lake parties was a huge
scow propelled by long oars. A typical lake party was given in July of
1840, when Governor Seward visited Cooperstown. On the way home upon the
lake the old scow, according to custom, was stopped opposite to the
Echo, and several persons tried their voices to show off the wonderfully
clear reverberations that would be flung back from the eastern hillside.
But the master of this art was "Joe Tom," the negro who had been chief
cook of the lake party, and was now at one of the long oars of the scow.
On being asked to awaken the famous echo, Joe Tom shouted, "Hurrah for
Governor Steward!" and when the echo came back, "You've got it to a 't,'
Joe!" exclaimed Governor Seward.
At this period the authority in aquatic affairs, and the most renowned
fisherman of the lake, was Commodore Boden. Miss Cooper says of her
father's novel _Home as Found_ that the one character in it "avowedly
and minutely drawn from life" was that of the Commodore, "a figure long
familiar to those living on the lake shores--a venerable figure, tall
and upright, to be seen for some three score years moving to and fro
over the water, trolling for pickerel or angling for perch, almost any
day in the year, excepting when the waters were icebound in
winter."[120] The commodore was of quite imposing appearance, handsome
alike in form and figure, straight as an arrow, and lithe as an Indian,
with silvery locks that hung gracefully down upon his shoulders. His
method of fishing was fascinating to watch. Standing erect in his boat,
the commodore would paddle from the outlet of the lake to some inviting
patch of weeds, and there, in quite shallow water, noiselessly drop his
anchor. Then, wielding a rod nearly twenty feet in length, he would
"skip" his tempting bait--generally the side of a small perch--with
amazing vigor and marvellous dexterity, oftentimes taking fifteen or
twenty pickerel in less than an hour. To see him strike, manipulate and
land a fish weighing three or four pounds, his pliant rod bending nearly
to a semicircle, was a spectacle not to be forgotten.[121]
In 1850 Peter P. Cooper brought from the Lake Ontario a little schooner,
and became so famous as a boatman and fisherman that he was regarded as
the successor of Admiral Hassy and Commodore Boden. Capt. Cooper
established a boat livery which included five sailboats and twenty
rowboats. He developed the fisheries of Otsego Lake on a big scale,
having introduced the gill net as a means of catching bass. In the
spring of 1851 there were taken from the lake 25,000 bass. The gill net
which Capt. Cooper introduced is made of the best kind of linen thread,
with meshes from two to two and a half inches square. The net is about
three feet wide, having leads attached to one edge, and corks fastened
to the other. The leaded edge is carried to the bottom of the lake,
while the other is buoyed up by the corks, making a complete fence
across the lake at its bottom, even where it is very deep. The fish swim
against the fence, which at once yields to their force, but as it
yields, forms a sack whose meshes gather about their fins and tail,
making it impossible to back out or otherwise escape. Their efforts
serve only to entangle the fish more deeply in the net. Elihu Phinney,
the most expert amateur fisherman of the period, denounced Capt.
Cooper's gill net as the "most deadly and abominable of all devices."
The Otsego bass never exceed about six pounds in weight, the average
being much smaller. Occasionally a lake trout of larger size is caught.
With hook and line trout of great size are not often taken. On Friday,
August 21, 1908, Alexander S. Phinney caught with hook and line, near
Kingfisher Tower, a trout thirty-six inches long and weighing twenty
pounds. He tussled with this trout for an hour, with six hundred feet of
line, before he succeeded in landing him in the boat. In the next season
the same fisherman caught a trout weighing eighteen pounds. So far as
authentic records go, these two trout are the largest fish ever caught
in the lake with hook and line.
The conditions in Otsego Lake are favorable for the artificial
propagation of fish, and many plantings have been made, at first by
private enterprise, and afterward by the State. The lake extends in a
direction from N. N. East to S. S. West about nine miles, varying in
width from about three quarters of a mile to a mile and a half. The
surface of the lake is 1,194 feet above tide-water. The average depth is
about fifty feet, although about two miles north of the village
soundings have been taken to a depth of one hundred and fifty feet,
while toward the midst of the lake the depths are greater. In many
places the water deepens gradually from the shore, but along the eastern
bank there are points at which, Fenimore Cooper declared, "a large ship
might float with her yards in the forest." The lake is chiefly supplied
from cold bottom springs. Its only constant tributaries are two small
streams, whose entire volume is not half that of its outlet, the
Susquehanna River, which here begins its long journey to Chesapeake Bay.
The upper and lower portions of the lake, being shallow and weedy,
afford ample pickerel grounds, while the middle portion and whole
eastern shore are admirably adapted, by deep water and soft marl bottom,
to the coregoni and salmon trout, and nearer shore, by rocky bottom and
sharp ledges, to the rock bass, black bass, and yellow perch. Large fish
find an abundant food supply in the "lake shiner," an exquisitely
beautiful creature and dainty morsel, about four inches long.
The fish for which the lake has become famous among epicures is the
"Otsego bass." In _The Pioneers_, published in 1823, Fenimore Cooper
expressed the general opinion when he put into the mouth of one of his
characters this eulogy of the Otsego bass: "These fish are of a quality
and flavor that in other countries would make them esteemed a luxury on
the tables of princes. The world has no better fish than the bass of
Otsego; it unites the richness of the shad to the firmness of the
salmon." More than sixty years later much the same opinion prevailed,
when Elihu Phinney described Otsego bass as "beyond all peradventure the
very finest fresh water fish that swims."
There has long been a difference of opinion as to whether the so-called
Otsego bass is to be regarded as a distinct species. Louis Agassiz, the
highest authority of his time, after careful analysis pronounced the
Otsego bass to be "in its organic structure a distinct fish, not found
in any other waters of the world." In 1915 Dr. Tarleton H. Bean, the New
York State fish culturist, declared that the so-called Otsego bass "is
merely the common Labrador whitefish which has become dwarfed in size by
some peculiarities of its habitat." De Witt Clinton, a former governor
of New York, wrote the first scientific description, accompanied by a
drawing, of this fish, which he called "the Salmo Otsego, or the Otsego
Basse."[122] At the time when Clinton wrote, the whitefishes were
placed in the genus Salmo. In 1911, in the bulletin of the United States
bureau of fisheries,[123] Dr. Evermann asserted concerning Clinton's
drawing of Otsego bass, which he had examined, that "the cut, although
crude, plainly shows _Coregonus clupeaformis_. The form is elliptical,
and the back shows the dark streaks along the rows of scales usually
characteristic of that species." The same author, in collaboration with
Dr. Jordan,[124] says concerning the common whitefish: "This species,
like others of wide distribution, is subject to considerable variations,
dependent upon food, waters, etc. One of these is the so-called Otsego
bass, var Otsego (Clinton), a form landlocked in Otsego Lake at the head
of the Susquehanna River."
There are Otsego fishermen who are not impressed by this array of
learning, and still insist that the Otsego bass is quite different from
any other fish in the world. The _Otsego Farmer_ in 1915 summed up the
matter thus: "Otsego bass is not what is ordinarily termed whitefish,
but is probably a species of the same family. As a matter of fact,
Otsego Lake has been stocked with whitefish fry from the Great Lakes,
and now the nets of fishermen are always filled with a mixture of
whitefish and Otsego bass. Whatever Dr. Bean may think about it, any
Otsego Lake fisherman can tell the difference, and any epicure having
once tasted Otsego bass is never again deceived by whitefish."
A view which seems to reconcile these diverse opinions is that of
Alexander S. Phinney, the most famous amateur fisherman of Otsego at the
beginning of the twentieth century. He holds that Otsego bass is quite
distinct from whitefish, but believes that the true Otsego bass has
disappeared, giving place to a hybrid fish, now called Otsego bass, but
really a cross between that variety and the whitefish with which Otsego
has been stocked from the Great Lakes.
As many as five thousand Otsego bass have been taken with one draught of
the seine, but in view of the great difficulty of catching any with hook
and line, the following suggestion from an old authority, Seth Green, is
still of interest: "The Otsego bass can be taken with small minnows or
red angle worms. I think if your tackle is very fine, and you do not
twitch when they bite, they will swallow the bait. Put five or ten hooks
(O'Shaunessy 8's, forged) on a fine snell, and loop them five feet
apart; with a small sinker at the end. Bait some with small minnows (an
inch or so in length) and some with worms. Cast out as far as you can
from the boat, and let it lie half or three quarters of an hour on the
bottom, feeling now and then to see if you have one on. The best way is
to let them hook themselves. The angle worms, if used for bait, should
be strung on to the hook with both ends left dangling. A light stroke
must be made and the fish handled very carefully."
[Illustration: FISHERMEN'S SHANTIES ON THE FROZEN LAKE]
Many fishermen are successful in taking Otsego bass with hook and line
in winter, by fishing through the ice. No sooner has the lake become
frozen from shore to shore, usually after Christmas, than the whole
surface becomes dotted with the shanties of fishermen, which remain
until the ice begins to weaken in the spring. The typical fisherman's
shanty on the ice-bound lake is about five by six feet in floor space,
and six feet high. It has a window, and the floor is so arranged that it
can be raised to keep the fisherman above the water that sometimes
floods the surface of the ice. Holes are cut through the floor, and
through the ice beneath, for the admission of the fishing lines. The
shanty is warmed by a small stove, with its stove-pipe sticking out
through the roof. A chair and a coal box complete the furniture.
Two methods of fishing through the ice for Otsego bass are used by the
occupants of the shanties. According to one method the hook is dropped
to the bottom of the lake, and the fish are attracted to its vicinity by
bait strewn on the bottom. The other method is used nearer shore, where
the baited hook is let down part way toward the bottom, to tempt the
fish that move amid the grass and weeds.
There are others besides fishermen to whom the frozen surface of Otsego
Lake offers the means of pleasure and occupation. In some seasons the
freezing of the lake occurs within a few hours, after a great and sudden
fall in temperature, during a night of calm and intense cold. At such
times, before snow has fallen upon the surface, the lake presents a
scene of splendor. The ice is quite transparent, and has the effect of a
great sheet of glass spread out amid the hills. This offers a perfect
surface for skating, and attracts not only the boys and girls of the
village, but a large number of their elders. The lake grows lively with
the gracefully gliding promenade of skaters, with here and there a group
playing at hockey, while others disport themselves at "crack the whip."
The friction of so many gliding feet imparts to the frozen surface a low
and weirdly humming sound, and the droning note is echoed by the hills,
until the valley resounds with monotonous music. There are times when
the lake is so well frozen that skaters traverse the entire length. In
some seasons ice-boats have been used, slanting from end to end of the
lake with prodigious speed. As the winter advances and the ice grows
stronger, driving upon the lake becomes common, and horse-races upon the
ice have sometimes been included among the winter sports.
At about five miles above the foot of the lake, and extending across it
from shore to shore, a large fissure in the ice usually appears during
the winter. This fissure is sometimes so wide that a team cannot cross
it, and many years ago a span of horses was accidentally driven into it.
The crevice in the ice has caused much speculation. The lake is narrow
at the place where the crack appears, and the fissure is supposed to be
created by expansion from the north and from the south, causing the ice
to rise several feet in gable-like form until the ridge cracks, for
fragments of ice are found on each side of the crevice.[125]
The tremendous forces exerted by the expansion of the freezing lake cry
aloud on still winter nights, whenever, after a period of thawing
weather, the mercury suddenly drops to a point far below zero. On such
nights, while the trees of the surrounding forest here and there begin
to be so penetrated with the fierce cold that they crack like
rifle-shots, the ice-bound lake sets up an unearthly groaning, and the
cavernous sound of its bellowing echoes dismally over the sleeping
village, like the trumpetings of some huge leviathan in agony.
Cooperstown has a winter harvest-time, in January or February, when ice
is cut from the lake for the summer supply. This industry occupies a
large force of men, with plows, saws, hooks, crowbars, horses and
bob-sleds, for several weeks. The ice taken from Otsego Lake, from ten
to twenty inches thick, according to the severity of the winter, is
always pure as mountain dew, and clear as crystal.
The midsummer view of Otsego Lake at one time included, in the clearings
along the western shore and hillsides, a great luxuriance of hop-vines.
The golden wreaths of hops, as they hang ripening in the August
sunshine, sweeping in graceful clusters from the tall poles, or swinging
in the breeze in umbrella-like canopies, add a more picturesque feature
to the landscape than any other growing crop.
Hops have a part in the story of Cooperstown, which was at one time the
centre of the most important hop-growing industry in America. Hop
culture was introduced into Otsego county about the year 1830. In 1845
only 168,605 pounds were produced. In 1885, within a radial distance of
forty miles from Cooperstown was included more than half of the
hop-producing region of the United States.
[Illustration: _Elizabeth Hudson_
HOP PICKING]
The hop-picking season, during the latter part of August, has given a
picturesque character of its own to the life of the village and
environs. In the primitive days of the industry, when the harvesting of
the crop did not require any additional help from outside of the
immediate region, the task of hop-picking was lightened by the enjoyment
of social pleasures and romantic excitements that came to be associated
with it by the young people of Otsego. At the beginning of the picking
season, in those days, anyone passing through the country would meet
wagon after wagon, of the style known as a "democrat," loaded down with
gay and lively maidens, with one or two young men to each load. On
reaching the hop-yard to which they were assigned, these frolicsome
parties exchanged their holiday attire for broad-rimmed hats and
working dresses. Boxes were placed about the hop-yard, four pickers to
each, the boxes being divided into four sections holding ten bushels
apiece, and into these were dropped the clusters picked from the vines
by nimble fingers. Experienced hands can fill two or more boxes in a
day, for which as much as fifty cents a box used to be paid.
The midday lunch was taken beneath the shade of the nearest tree, or, in
case the pickers were boarded by the grower, all adjourned to the
largest room in an out-building, where a rural feast was spread with no
niggard hand. Hop-pickers expect to live on the fat of the farmer's
land, and as a rule they are not disappointed. Whole sheep and beeves
vanish like manna before the Israelites in the short three weeks of the
picking season, while gallons of coffee, firkins of butter, barrels of
flour, and sugar by the hundred weight are swallowed up in the capacious
maw of the small army. The nightly hop-dance used to be an indispensable
adjunct of the picking season, much counted upon by the gay throng, but
rather frowned upon, as an occasion of scandal, by staid and proper
seniors.
With the great increase in hop-production during the early 'eighties,
the romance of hop-picking, on many farms, gave place to a picturesque
but undesirable invasion of vagabondage from the large cities. Some
farmers continued to choose their pickers from among the better sort of
young men and maidens of the neighborhood, but many large growers,
requiring a great number of hands for a short season, resorted to the
unemployed of neighboring cities, and the result was an annual
immigration from Albany, Troy, Binghamton, and other cities farther
north, which taxed the capacity of the railways. Among these workers
many were honest and capable, but a large part of them were attracted by
the prospect of three weeks of board and lodging, with an amount of pay
which, if small, was sufficient for a glorious spree. It became the
custom in Cooperstown to augment the village police force during the
hop-picking season, for city thugs were likely to be abroad, and when
the pickers were paid off their revels were apt to become both obnoxious
and dangerous.
Hops will be seen growing in the summer along the shores and hillsides
of Otsego Lake, so long as beer is made; for, aside from the very
limited amount required to leaven bread, and the comparatively small
amount used in druggists' preparations, there is no use for hops except
in the making of beer. But never again will there be in Otsego such
luxuriance of hop-culture as that which developed in the 'eighties
before the Pacific coast learned to compete successfully with the
hop-growers of New York State.
Hop-culture is a gamble which in Otsego county has made fortunes for
some farmers and brought ruin to others. The growth of the product is
singularly at the mercy of freaks of weather, and its preparation for
the market is beset by many possibilities of failure. It is a crop of
which it is most difficult to count the final cost, or to predict the
market price. It has varied in price more than any other product of the
soil. In 1878 the entire crop was marketed at from five to twelve cents
a pound. But for many years every farmer in Otsego remembered the season
of 1882-83, when the average cost of producing a pound of hops was ten
cents, and hops were selling at a dollar a pound, so that, as was said
at the time, "five pounds of hops could be exchanged for a barrel of
flour."[126] Many farmers made money at this time, but some held their
hops for an even higher price, and lost. One farmer held thousands of
pounds of hops in his great barn, and kept buying in the crops of other
farmers, awaiting a price of $1.20, at which he had resolved to sell.
Two years later the hops were still in the barn, and nine-tenths of
their value was lost. There were other tragedies of this sort, yet for
years afterward, while some continued to grow hops at a fair profit,
many a farmer in the vicinity of Cooperstown, lured by the hope of a
dollar-a-pound season, was kept on the verge of poverty by his faith in
the golden vine.
[Illustration: MAP OF OTSEGO LAKE]
Otsego Lake is chiefly famous as the scene of events in two of Cooper's
_Leather-Stocking Tales_. There are glimpses of it in _The Pioneers_,
while in _The Deerslayer_ the whole action revolves about this lake,
which throughout the story is called the "Glimmerglass." The scenes of
incidents in these two tales are still pointed out on Otsego Lake, and
have become as much a part of its history as of its romance.
[Illustration: THE SUSQUEHANNA, near its source]
To begin with points described in _The Deerslayer_, the beehive-shaped
rock where the youthful Leather-Stocking had his rendezvous with
Chingachgook is that now known as Council Rock, and still juts above the
water at the outlet of the lake, near the western shore of the
Susquehanna's source. Here it was that exactly at sunset, to keep his
appointment with Leather-Stocking, the tall, handsome, and athletic
young Delaware Indian suddenly appeared in full war-paint, standing upon
the rock, having escaped his lurking foes. Not far from this point, at a
short distance down the river, Deerslayer got his first glimpse of the
beautiful Judith Hutter, as she peered from the window of the "ark,"
which had been moored beneath the screening foliage of overhanging
trees. It was through these waters, and through the outlet, soon
afterward, that Floating Tom Hutter and Hurry Harry, aided by
Deerslayer, drew the ark back into the lake in the nick of time to
escape a band of hostile Iroquois.
On the western side of the lake, just beyond the O-te-sa-ga as one
travels northward, the first little bay that indents the shore, now
called Blackbird Bay, and somewhat changed in shape and aspect by
fillings of soil and other improvements at the Country Club, is the
"Rat's Cove," where Floating Tom Hutter was fond of keeping his ark
anchored behind the trees that covered the narrow strip of jutting land.
Here it was, at the beginning of the story, that Deerslayer and Hurry
Harry sought Tom in vain, and on this margin of the lake the buck
appeared at which Hurry took the shot that awakened the echoes of the
Glimmerglass. Adjacent to this bay, in the midst of the stretch of land
between the O-te-sa-ga and the Country Club house, was the Huron camp in
which Hutter and Hurry were captured by the redskins; and the quantities
of arrowheads found here in later times suggest that it actually was a
favorite place of Indian encampment.
North of Blackbird Bay and the Country Club, and beyond Fenimore Farm,
are Glimmerglen Cove and Brookwood Point, where charming residences that
overlook the lake add their own attractions to the names of
"Glimmerglen" and "Brookwood," by which they are known. The stream that
gushes into the lake from Brookwood is the one in which Hetty Hutter
made her ablutions, and from which she drank, while on her lonely way
southward to the Huron camp, in her simple-minded scheme for the rescue
of her father and Hurry Harry.
A short distance north of Brookwood there empties into the lake a stream
which is worth tracing toward its source as far as the hillside beyond
the road that skirts the lake, for here the water comes tumbling down
from the height in the beautiful Leatherstocking Falls. A shady glen is
here, a favorite resort of small picnic parties, and while nothing of
Cooper's romance has been added to the scene except the name, some
interest may be found in the traces of an old mill which once got its
power from Leatherstocking Falls.
[Illustration: _Arthur J. Telfer_
LEATHERSTOCKING FALLS]
Some tense situations in the story of the _Deerslayer_ are associated
with Three-Mile Point, the present picnic resort of Cooperstown; and a
full understanding of the events described as having taken place on this
spot almost depends upon some reference to the actual conformation of
the land. It was on the northern side of the projecting point that Hetty
had landed on the errand just referred to, setting her canoe adrift.
Wah-ta-wah promised to meet her Delaware lover, Chingachgook, at the
same landing-place, on the next night, at the moment when the planet
Jupiter should top the pines of the eastern shore. Here came
Chingachgook and Deerslayer in their canoe, at the appointed time, to
steal the maiden from the Hurons, but found that she could not keep the
tryst. Around this point Deerslayer gently propelled his canoe southward
until he gained a view of the fire-lit camp, which the Hurons had moved
from the region of Blackbird Bay to the southern slope of Three-Mile
Point. Back again to its northern side he paddled softly, and having
joined Chingachgook, they left the canoe on the beach near the point,
and made their stealthy detour, approaching the camp from the west, in
the shadow of the trees, informing Wah-ta-wah of their presence by
Chingachgook's squirrel-signal. The spring that still bubbles for the
refreshment of picnickers on the northern shore of the Point was the one
which Wah-ta-wah made a pretext to draw away from the camp the old squaw
who guarded her, and here Deerslayer throttled the vigilant hag, while
Chingachgook and his Indian sweetheart raced for the canoe. Here, when
Deerslayer released his grip to follow them, the squaw alarmed the camp.
Along the stretch of beach he ran eastward to the place where the lovers
were already in the canoe awaiting him, and from this point Deerslayer
pushed their canoe to safety, yielding himself to capture.
It was at Five-Mile Point that the Hurons were afterward encamped when
Deerslayer, whom they had released on parole, returned at the appointed
hour to redeem his plighted word. Back of Five-Mile Point is a
picturesque rocky gorge called Mohican Canyon, through which a brook
ripples, with clumps of fern and rose peeping from the crevices of its
rugged walls. Having fulfilled his pledge, Deerslayer soon ventured the
dash for liberty that so nearly succeeded; and, after making a circuit
of the slope, it was along the ridge of Mohican Canyon that he ran at
top speed to try a plunge for the lake, with the whole band of Indians
in pursuit.
[Illustration: FIVE-MILE POINT]
In the open area of Five-Mile Point, after his recapture, Deerslayer was
bound to a tree, and became a target for the hairbreadth marksmanship of
Huron tomahawks, preliminary to being put to torture.
North of this spot, and along the shore, Hutter's Point is of interest
to the reader of the _Leather-Stocking Tales_, for here is the path by
which Deerslayer reached the lake at the beginning of his romantic
history, and gained his first view of the Glimmerglass. In the second
chapter of the _Deerslayer_, Cooper's famous description of the lake as
it was when the first white man came, based upon his own recollection of
it when nine-tenths of its shores were in virgin forest, was conceived
from the angle of Hutter's Point.
[Illustration: _M. Antoinette Abrams_
MOHICAN CANYON]
Not far from the northern end of the lake a faint discoloration of the
water, with a few reeds projecting above the surface, reveals the
location of the so-called "sunken island," where the waters of the lake
shoal from a great depth, and offer the site upon which, at the southern
end of the shoal, Cooper's imagination built the "Muskrat Castle" of Tom
Hutter, at which the terrific struggle with the Indians occurred when
Hutter was killed. At the northern end of the sunken island was the
watery grave in which the mother of Judith and Hetty lay, and which
afterward became the grave of Hutter, and finally of Hetty herself.[127]
Across the lake, on its eastern shore, south of Hyde Bay, is Gravelly
Point, to which Hutter's lost canoe drifted, and where Deerslayer killed
his first Indian. Farther south is Point Judith, now marked by
Kingfisher Tower, where Deerslayer, returning to the Glimmerglass
fifteen years after the events described in the story, found the
stranded wreck of the ark, and saw fluttering from a log a ribbon that
had been worn by the lovely Judith Hutter. Here "he tore away the ribbon
and knotted it to the stock of Killdeer, which had been the gift of the
girl herself."
Toward the foot of the lake the eastern hills and shore belong to scenes
of Leather-Stocking's elder days, as described in _The Pioneers_. North
of Lakewood Cemetery a climb up the precipitous mountainside leads to
Natty Bumppo's Cave, which, with some poetic license in his treatment
of its dimensions, the novelist employs as a setting for the final
climax of his story. To the platform of rock over the cave, as a refuge
from the forest fire, Leather-Stocking guided Elizabeth Temple and
Edwards, and carried the dying Chingachgook. On this spot, with his
glazing eyes fixed upon the western hills, the last of the Mohicans
yielded up his spirit. Here was the scene of Captain Hollister's charge
at the head of the Templeton Light Infantry, so swiftly followed by the
revelation of the mystery which the cave concealed.
[Illustration: GRAVELLY POINT]
Not far from the spot upon which the Leather-Stocking monument now
stands, near the main entrance of Lakewood cemetery, the log hut of
Leather-Stocking stood, and afterward, according to the story,
Chingachgook was buried there. Farther southward, the road that branches
off to ascend Mount Vision is the one by which Judge Temple and his
daughter approached the village in the opening scene of the story, and
it was during their descent from the upper level of this road that the
buck was shot by Edwards and Leather-Stocking, when Judge Temple's
marksmanship had failed. Near the branching of this road a stairway
climbs the mountain, and reaches the pathway of Prospect Rock, where
Elizabeth found the old Mohican, and was trapped by the forest fire.
Upon this natural terrace a rustic observatory now stands, which offers
a superb view of the lake and village.
It was on the summit of Mount Vision, overlooking the village, that
Elizabeth Temple was faced by a panther crouching to spring upon her,
and had resigned herself to a cruel death, when she heard the quiet
voice of old Leather-Stocking, followed by the crack of the rifle that
saved her life, as he said:
"Hist! hist! Stoop lower, gal; your bonnet hides the creatur's head!"
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 120: _Pages and Pictures_, 301.]
[Footnote 121: Elihu Phinney in Shaw's _History of Cooperstown_.]
[Footnote 122: Letter to John W. Francis, 1822.]
[Footnote 123: Vol xxix, p. 35.]
[Footnote 124: U.S. National Museum, Bulletin 47, p. 465.]
[Footnote 125: Livermore, _History of Cooperstown_, p. 133.]
[Footnote 126: G. P. Keese, _Harper's Magazine_, October, 1885.]
[Footnote 127: For the purpose of the story, as he explains in the
preface of _The Deerslayer_, Cooper places the "sunken island" farther
south, nearly opposite to Hutter's Point, and at a greater distance from
the shore than its real situation.]
CHAPTER XIX
TWENTIETH CENTURY BEGINNINGS
A man of national reputation made Cooperstown his summer home in 1903,
when the Rt. Rev. Dr. Henry C. Potter, seventh Bishop of New York, who
had married Mrs. Alfred Corning Clark, took up his residence at
Fernleigh. In his administration of the most populous diocese in
America, Bishop Potter had gained wide renown as an ecclesiastic; added
to which his prominence in civic affairs, and in matters of national
importance, together with a public championship of workingmen's rights
at which many wealthy churchpeople stood aghast, made him one of the
most notable figures in American life. He passed his summers in
Cooperstown until his death at Fernleigh in July, 1908, and the near
view of his big personality caused him to be as greatly beloved in the
village as he was honored in the city. He entered with zest into the
interests of the village, gave a new impetus to many of its activities,
and made friends in all walks of life.
When Bishop Potter came to dwell in Cooperstown, the village had already
made up its mind that he was a rather austere and distant man, an
official person, the quintessence of ecclesiastical
statesmanship,--urbane, but unyielding. He looked the part. Tall, erect,
and of splendid figure, his countenance had the aristocratic beauty of a
family noted for its handsome men. The noble head and the poutingly
compressed lips of a wide mouth gave an impression of power, while a
slight droop of the left eyelid, and a thin rim of white around the iris
of the eyes, imparted a veiled and filmy coldness to his glance. The
personal dignity of the Bishop, his commanding presence, a certain
picturesque magnificence, the rich and well-modulated voice, the
incisiveness of his manner of speech, with the clear-cut value given to
every word and syllable, were characteristics that marked him as a
leader of men.
[Illustration: _A. F. Bradley_
BISHOP POTTER]
But Cooperstown soon came to realize the lovable traits and real
simplicity of its most distinguished resident. He placed many villagers
in his debt by personal acts of kindness, and charmed all by his genial
friendliness. In any company he was the chief source of entertainment.
Although he applied himself intensely to official work during certain
hours of every day in the summer, when the hour of relaxation came he
laid aside his task. With all his cares, he was never the grim man
forcing himself to be gay. His contribution to the pleasure of a company
was spontaneous and contagious. Not the least highly developed of his
qualities was the Bishop's sense of humor. He was an incomparable
raconteur, and many an incident of village life gave him material for a
story which, with certain poetic license of embellishment that he
sometimes allowed himself, set his hearers in a roar. He was as ready
to hear a good story as to tell one, and his ringing laugh was a
delight. The Bishop talked much and well. His use of the pause in
speaking, with a momentary compression of the lips now and then between
clauses, heightened the effect of crispness in his felicitously chosen
phrases. He was a good listener if one had anything to say, but he was
not averse to presiding in monologue over a number of people, and often
did so, for his fund of talk was so rich that others, in his presence,
were sometimes slow to offer any contribution of their own. He was most
adroit at this sort of entertainment, and had a way of apparently
bringing others of the company into the conversation--usually those who
seemed rather shy and overawed,--without requiring them to utter so much
as a word. In the midst of his talk the Bishop would interject such a
remark as, "You will understand me, Mr. So-and-So, when I say"., or
"Mrs. Blank, you will be particularly interested to know"., turning
earnestly toward the person addressed. Of course Mr. So-and-So and Mrs.
Blank brightened up at being singled out by the great man, and beamed
with pleasure at having thus contributed to the conversation.
[Illustration: _C. A. Schneider_
THE RECTORY]
In the morning of every week-day, just as the village clock struck nine,
the Bishop could be seen issuing from Fernleigh, whence, after passing
the Rectory, he pursued a slow and stately course down the curved path
of the Cooper Grounds to the Clark Estate building, where he had an
office on the upper floor at the southwest corner. On warm summer days,
he discarded broadcloth, and was dressed in flannels of spotless white.
He walked with a stick, and there was a slight limp of the left leg, due
to an injury received in riding. So strong and erect was his bearing,
however, in spite of his more than three score years and ten, that the
slow gait seemed to be caused rather by preference than necessity, and
the limp really appeared to add to the majesty of his measured pace.
Anyone who joined him was obliged to walk as slowly as the Bishop, who
never hastened his steps, but conversed affably; now and then, as some
thought struck him forcibly, he paused abruptly in his walk, and stood
still to utter what was in his mind, moving forward again, by way of
emphasis, at the end of a sentence. In these walks through the Cooper
Grounds, and about the village, the Bishop assumed acquaintance with
everyone, and frequently stopped to enter into conversation with a
neighbor, a passing tourist, or some workman toiling in a ditch. It was
because of his genuine interest in everyone that the village came to
regard Bishop Potter no longer as a distinguished metropolitan, but as a
genial neighbor. A stable-boy who at this period drove the village
rector to a country funeral expressed the sentiment of many when he
said: "I used to think the Bishop was stuck up; but he is really just as
common as me or you!"
Bishop Potter took great delight in amusing occurrences in which he
shared as he went about the village. In fact he seemed deliberately to
invite them, and afterward described the incidents with contagious
merriment. One day as he was about to enter a car of the trolley road on
Main Street, an enormously fat countrywoman was standing on the
platform, bidding farewell to her her friends. She had much to say, and
completely blocked the entrance to the car. After waiting patiently for
some moments the Bishop addressed the woman in his most gracious manner.
"Madam," said he, "I don't wish to interfere with your conversation, but
if you will kindly move either one way or the other, so that I may enter
the car, I shall be greatly obliged." The woman glared at him. "Are you
the conductor of this car?" she snapped, "Because if you be, you're the
sassiest conductor that ever _I_ see!"
In the late summer of 1904, "Doc" Brady, a lovable old Irish heart, who
used to peddle portraits of the Pope, corn salve, and various trifles,
encountered Bishop Potter in front of the Village Library, and invited a
purchase of his wares, which at this time included campaign buttons of
Col. Roosevelt and Judge Parker, attached to packages of chewing-gum.
"Here ye are, Bishop," he cried; "Get a button for your favorite
candidate!" The Bishop impartially selected a button of each kind, and
pushed the chewing-gum aside. "Take your goom, Bishop, take your goom,"
urged Brady, as the Bishop moved away. "No, certainly not," was the firm
reply. But Doc Brady was insistent, and hurrying after the Bishop forced
the gum upon him. "There," said he, "if you don't chew it yourself, take
it home to Mrs. Potter!" The Bishop's laugh rang aloud through the
Cooper Grounds as he slowly ascended the path, taking home the
chewing-gum to Fernleigh.
The Bishop usually left his office in the Clark Estate building toward
one o'clock, and Mrs. Potter often walked down to join him on the way
home. Sometimes, as she passed the office, she hailed the Bishop, and
conversed with him as he stood at the open window above. On one
occasion, when Mrs. Potter had several ladies as guests, they all
chatted with the Bishop through the window on their way to Fernleigh. A
moment later, recalling something that he had neglected to mention, he
summoned a gardener who was at work close at hand, and asked him to
request the ladies kindly to step back to the window, as the Bishop had
something to say to them. Shortly afterward, in response to the
gardener's summons, there was lined up beneath the window a happy group
of female excursionists carrying lunch-baskets, entire strangers to the
Bishop, and in a quite a flutter of anticipation of what the
distinguished prelate might have to communicate. The Bishop was equal to
the situation. He gave them some information concerning points of
interest in and about Cooperstown, with a brief summary of the history
of the Cooper Grounds in which they then stood, and sent them away
rejoicing in knowledge that added greatly to the pleasure of their
visit.
A frequent guest at Fernleigh at this time was the Rev. Dr. W. W. Lord,
formerly rector of Christ Church, and for many years one of the most
beloved friends of the Clark family. This aged clergyman and poet was a
scholar of the old-fashioned type, well-versed in the elder
philosophies, and fond of quoting Greek, Latin, and Hebrew authors in
the original tongues. Dr. Lord admired Bishop Potter, but the two men
were of different schools, and the old priest was inclined to stir up
good-humored controversies in which he pitted his scholasticism against
the Bishop's more facile and modern if less profound learning. The New
York prelate entered with great zest into the contest of wits, and let
slip no opportunity to score a point on Dr. Lord.
Although usually numbered among the evangelicals, Bishop Potter in his
latter years was sympathetic with certain aspects of Catholic
ceremonial. He believed in the enrichment of the services of the Church
by light, color, and symbolism, so far as might be consistent with the
law of the Anglican communion in America. Dr. Lord belonged to the
school of churchmanship which abhorred anything beyond the most severe
simplicity in the services of the Church, and had a large contempt for
the badges and symbols of ritualism.
On the festival of St. John the Baptist, in 1903, Bishop Potter and Dr.
Lord were the chief figures at a service held in Christ Church to which
the Masonic lodges of Cooperstown and vicinity were invited. Both the
Bishop and Dr. Lord were thirty-third degree Masons. Dr. Lord, because
of the infirmities of age, at that period seldom officiated in church,
but for this occasion was to have a place of honor in the chancel, and
to pronounce the benediction. Bishop Potter was to deliver the sermon.
Dr. Lord came early to the sacristy of the church, and, having vested in
his long flowing surplice and black stole, seated himself to await
service time. In conversation with the rector, Dr. Lord recalled the
days when more of the clergy were simple in their apparel, and he
deplored the tendency to adopt brilliant vestments, colored stoles, and
academic hoods. A hood, said Dr. Lord, echoing the sentiments of a witty
English prelate, was often a falsehood. Any man could wear a red bag
dangling down his back, but nothing except sound scholarship could
really make a Doctor of Divinity. For his part, said Dr. Lord, he was
content to be a Doctor of Divinity, by virtue of scholastic learning,
without wearing a hood to proclaim it.
At this moment the Bishop appeared, having walked from Fernleigh to the
church fully arrayed in his vestments. He was a resplendent figure. In
addition to the episcopal robes of his office, he wore an Oxford cap,
and a hood of flaming crimson, which an expert in such matters would
have identified as belonging to Union College, or Yale, or Harvard, or
Oxford, or Cambridge, or St. Andrew's, all of which institutions of
learning had conferred the doctorate on Bishop Potter.
It still lacked a few moments of service time, and when the Bishop was
seated in the bright light of the sacristy, another feature of
decoration in his dress appeared. Depending from a chain about the neck
there glittered upon his breast what the Masons call a "jewel." To the
non-Masonic eye it was more than a jewel. It suggested rather a shooting
star, emitting a shower of scintillations from the facets of a hundred
jewels. When the coruscations of this Masonic emblem caught the eye of
Dr. Lord, he became uneasy, and began to finger an imaginary token of
rank upon his own breast. "I ought to have a jewel to wear to-night," he
said musingly, and muttered of the splendid jewel that he had forgotten
to bring, given to him years before by the Grand Lodge. By this time the
hour of service had come; the aproned Masons had marched to their seats
in the nave of the church, and all available space was thronged by an
expectant congregation. Nevertheless Dr. Lord requested the rector to go
forth from the sacristy, and ask the master of the Lodge whether any of
the brethren present had a jewel to lend for the occasion. This was
done, but no jewel was forthcoming. The Bishop seemed absorbed in his
own thoughts.
The choir and clergy entered the chancel, and the service began. Dr.
Lord had a seat of honor in the sanctuary at the right of the altar.
When evensong was finished, Bishop Potter preached the sermon, after
which he returned to the sanctuary, and stood at the left of the altar
opposite to Dr. Lord. Just before the benediction, which Dr. Lord was to
pronounce, the Bishop caught the rector's eye, and beckoned. When the
rector came near, the Bishop removed the Masonic jewel, with its chain,
and handed it to him.
"Put it around the old man's neck," the Bishop whispered.
This was done, and the venerable clergyman, decorated with the flashing
symbol, seemed to grow in stature beyond his usual great height, as he
ascended the steps of the altar, where he uplifted his hands, and in an
age-worn but magnificent and sonorous voice pronounced the solemn
blessing.
In the early autumn of 1904 the Rt. Hon. and Most Rev. Dr. Randall T.
Davidson, Archbishop of Canterbury and Primate of all England, the first
occupant of the chair of St. Augustine to visit America, was a guest at
Fernleigh. The Archbishop and Mrs. Davidson, with the Archbishop's two
chaplains, were met at the station by Bishop Potter together with a
delegation of Cooperstown citizens. The first carriage that left the
station contained the English and American bishops; the second carried
the two chaplains, escorted by the village rector. As this carriage left
the station, David H. Gregory, the perennial wit of the summer colony,
called out,
"Don't forget to show the gentlemen the Indian in the Cooper Grounds."
The chaplains of the Archbishop exchanged glances of pleased
anticipation. What they had heard suggested that Cooperstown kept a live
Indian on view as a symbol of its history and romance, just as Rome
maintains always its pair of wolves at the Capitoline hill. The rector
tried in vain to divert their thoughts toward other objects. When the
carriage rolled through the Cooper Grounds the chaplains insisted upon
seeing the Indian. There was nothing to do but to point out J. Q. A.
Ward's sculptured Indian which stands in the midst of the park, a
replica of the one in Central Park, New York, and better mounted,
altogether a fine work of art, but--
"Oh, I say," exclaimed one of the chaplains, as they looked at one
another in deep disappointment, "Not alive; not alive!"
During the Archbishop's stay in Cooperstown he attended daily services
in Christ Church, and enjoyed visiting points of interest on the lake
and in the village. That a souvenir of the visit might be preserved the
Archbishop and the Bishop were photographed together on the front porch
of Fernleigh. Apparently some prosaic adviser had represented to the
Archbishop that his usual costume would make him undesirably conspicuous
in America, for during his tour of this country the Primate of all
England abandoned the picturesque every-day dress of an English bishop,
with its knickerbockers and gaiters, in favor of the international
hideousness of pantaloons. At the time of the photograph Bishop Potter
was wearing leggings, having just returned from riding, so that the two
bishops appeared to have exchanged costumes.
[Illustration: THE ARCHBISHOP WITH BISHOP POTTER]
The Archbishop desired not to have anything like a public reception, but
it was intimated to a few neighbors that they would be welcomed at
Fernleigh on a certain evening. At this gathering the most regal figure,
who, in the ancient finery of her apparel, wearing a headdress topped
with an ostrich plume, may be said to have eclipsed the most
distinguished guests, was Susan Augusta Cooper, granddaughter of the
novelist, representing, as it were, the very foundation of the village.
Miss Cooper was one of the most characteristic survivals of the old
régime in Cooperstown. She lived next door to Fernleigh in Byberry
Cottage, which had been built as a home for the two unmarried daughters
of the novelist shortly after the burning of Otsego Hall, and largely
out of material rescued from it, including the oaken doors, the
balusters of the stairway, and two bookcases from Cooper's library which
were transferred to the cottage. Susan Augusta Cooper took up her
residence there with her mother and aunts in 1875, and when she died in
1915 had been the sole occupant of the cottage for many years. She was a
type of old-fashioned neighborliness, and made a specialty of
ministration to the needs of sick and poor throughout the village. One
frequently met her on some errand of mercy; the basket on her arm
contained good things prepared with her own hands for the needy; the
large and stately figure had grown rather mountainous with advancing
years, and the dignity of her slow and measured pace suggested the
steady progress of a ship moving in calm waters. The solemnity of her
countenance, and the grave manner of her carefully chosen words, were
lovably familiar to those who knew her warm and generous heart.
When Miss Cooper's health failed she was obliged to undergo an operation
which left her a cripple, unable to get about except in a wheel-chair
propelled by an attendant. Always a faithful communicant of Christ
Church, her disability occasioned what came to be almost a parochial
ceremony, for when Miss Cooper made her communion she was wheeled to the
chancel steps, and the priest came forward to administer to her, while
the other communicants respectfully waited until she had withdrawn.
[Illustration: _C. A. Schneider_
BYBERRY COTTAGE as originally built]
Added to her other infirmities, an affection of the eyes gradually
darkened her vision until she became totally blind. In a condition of
helplessness which would seem to make existence unendurable, Miss Cooper
found much to make her happy, and life was sweet to her to the end. She
enjoyed the society of friends, and it gave her keen pleasure, blind and
crippled as she was, to be seated in state at large social functions.
Such was her habitual solemnity of manner that few gave her credit for
the sense of humor which lightened many of her dark days. She uttered
her jests with so much gravity that they were often taken in earnest.
Now and again she made sport of her own infirmities. Meeting her one
day in her wheel-chair, after her eyesight had begun to fail, a neighbor
inquired for her health. "Quite comfortable," replied Miss Cooper, in
solemn tones, "except for my eyes. They tell me it is a fine day, with
beautiful blue sky. The sky is blue, but to my eyes it is shrunk to the
size of a bachelor's-button!" Miss Cooper was very reluctant in
consenting to the amputation which prolonged her life for several years.
Even after the surgeons stood ready in the operating-room she for a time
declined to submit to the ordeal. There was a prolonged discussion which
resulted at last, on the advice of friends, in obtaining her consent.
The chief surgeon entering the room approached the bedside rubbing his
hands and, grasping at something to say to reassure the patient,
remarked in silken tones, "Well, Miss Cooper, I'm glad to hear that you
prefer to have the amputation." The situation seemed desperate, and
nerves were at a high tension among Miss Cooper's friends. "Well,
doctor," was her tart rejoinder, "I must say that 'prefer' is hardly the
word that I should use!" With this she gave a chuckle that proved her
spirit undaunted, and relieved the strain.
Miss Cooper had great respect for the clergy, and for a bishop her
reverence was unbounded. When Bishop Potter dedicated the monument at
the grave of Leslie Pell-Clarke, in Lakewood Cemetery, a terrific
thunderstorm arose during the ceremonies, and Miss Cooper was taken home
in the carriage with the distinguished prelate to escape the deluge. The
various conveyances plunged down the hillside post-haste, with
lightning crashing on every side. Some of the ladies in the party became
hysterical. Miss Cooper alone was perfectly calm. "With a bishop by my
side," she exclaimed, "I am not in the least afraid to die!"
[Illustration: THE CLARK ESTATE OFFICE]
In the summer of 1904 Bishop Potter unwittingly acted as the accomplice
of a burglar who robbed the safe of the Clark Estate office in
Cooperstown, and escaped with a quantity of jewels. The newspapers
estimated the value of the stolen jewels at from $20,000 to $100,000,
and the robbery became a celebrated case in police annals. The burglary
was unusual in having taken place in broad daylight, with Bishop Potter
calmly at work at his desk on the second floor of the small building.
When the clerks left the office for luncheon at noon they locked the
outside door, but did not close the vault in which the papers and
valuables were kept. It was a brilliant summer day, the seventh of July;
villagers and tourists were passing and repassing through the adjacent
Cooper Grounds; the clerks were to return within an hour, and in the
mean time the Bishop was there. Nobody dreamed of the possibility of a
burglary, but it was the unexpected that happened. When the vault was to
be closed and locked at the end of the day, a tin box containing a
casket of jewels was missing. In the basement of the building the tin
box which had contained the jewel-case was found empty, and near by was
a hatchet usually kept in the basement, and with which the box had been
pried open.
The news of the robbery caused intense excitement in the community. The
village policeman together with the county sheriff and his deputies met
in conference at the Clark Estate office; knots of people gathered upon
the streets in earnest discussion; the village press was busy turning
out handbills announcing the robbery and offering a large reward for the
apprehension of the thief; the telegraph wires hummed with messages to
the police of the state and nation. Next morning Pinkerton detectives
arrived under the leadership of George S. Dougherty, afterward deputy
police commissioner of the city of New York.
The clues discovered by the detectives were not encouraging. In the
office nothing appeared beyond the fact that the box of jewels had been
removed from the safe. In the basement the discarded tin box that had
contained the casket of jewels lay upon the floor not far from the
hatchet with which it had been opened, and the only remarkable
circumstance was that the floor all about the empty box was bespattered
with blood. The detectives said also that they noticed the frequent
appearance of a woman's footprints which were well defined and seemed to
encircle the spot where the empty jewel-box lay.
The blood-stains appeared to offer the most serviceable clue, and to
account for them three theories were suggested. First: The robber had
been caught in the act by someone who had disappeared in pursuit, after
one or the other had been wounded in the struggle. Second: There was
more than one robber, and there had been a bloody quarrel over the
division of the booty. Third: In opening the tin box containing the
jewels the robber had cut himself either with the hatchet or with the
jagged tin. Since the Bishop, who had been in the building during the
robbery, heard no sound of any struggle, the first two theories were
abandoned, and the third alone seemed probable. Advices were accordingly
telegraphed to the police of various cities to look out for a man with a
bandaged hand. For several days thereafter suspicious-looking men in
remote parts of the country who had had the misfortune to injure a hand
suffered the added misfortune of being detained by the police; but
nothing came of it.
In order to aid in the recovery of the property, and to make it
difficult for the thief to dispose of it, a description of the stolen
jewelry was given out, and summarized as follows: a pearl collar; a
diamond bow-knot with pear-shaped pearl pendant; a ring set with two
diamonds and a ruby; a ring set with diamond and ruby; a small diamond
ring; a solitaire diamond ring; a diamond marquise ring; a ring set with
two diamonds crosswise; a diamond bracelet; a diamond and pearl
bracelet.
Dougherty the detective had another method of procedure in reserve. He
had brought with him to Cooperstown an album containing photographs of
the most noted bank-sneaks and yegg-men. After studying the "job" at the
Clark Estate office he came to the conclusion that it was the work of a
professional, and began to run over in his mind the various crooks who
might have planned and carried out a robbery of this particular sort.
Many of these were gradually eliminated for one reason or another, until
he had narrowed the field to a few suspects. Dougherty then began to
make inquiries about the village to learn whether anyone had noticed a
stranger loitering in the neighborhood of the Clark Estate offices on
the day of the robbery. His search was rewarded by finding several
persons who remembered such a stranger. One of them described the
loiterer as a man about sixty years old, with "pleasant, laughing eyes."
Dougherty already had in mind Billy Coleman, alias Hoyt, alias Grant,
alias Holton, alias Houston, a man with an international police record.
He produced Coleman's photograph, and the likeness was promptly
identified as that of the loiterer. Another who remembered seeing the
stranger picked out from the entire gallery of rogues the likeness of
Coleman.
Although he had no real evidence against him the detective was now sure
of his man, and felt certain that, somewhere in the mazes of New York
City, Coleman and the missing jewels would be found. Returning to New
York, Dougherty roamed the streets of the city, day and night, looking
for Coleman. After two weeks of fruitless search he met one of Coleman's
"pals" coming up Eighth Avenue. Acting on the theory that this man would
ultimately get in touch with Coleman, the detective determined to keep
him in sight. He shadowed him all night, following him from haunt to
haunt. The next morning, when Coleman's friend retired to a
rooming-house, and asked for a bed, Dougherty put two subordinates on
guard, while he himself snatched a few hours of sleep. The detective
proved to be upon the right track, for within thirty-six hours the
shadowed man joined Billy Coleman.
The suspected thief occupied a flat at 271 West 154th Street. From this
time Dougherty or one of his deputies followed every movement of Billy
Coleman. Day after day they tracked him through the city from one resort
to another. In the evening they followed him home, and kept a watchful
eye on the premises. Coleman's actions were provokingly innocent. At
nightfall he frequently left home, accompanied by his wife, but only to
take their little dog out for an airing. On a Sunday evening while
Dougherty was shadowing Coleman and his wife, hoping that they might
lead him to some clue to the robbery, he was amazed to see them enter an
Episcopal church, where they remained throughout the service. Bishop
Potter, to whom Dougherty had confided his suspicions of Coleman,
laughed heartily when the detective mentioned this incident.
"Surely, Dougherty, you don't want me to believe that one good churchman
would rob another, do you?" the Bishop exclaimed.
Dougherty felt that as the case stood he was making no headway. Coleman,
who perhaps realized that he might be under suspicion, made no false
moves. The detective resolved upon another plan of action. He decided to
have Coleman charged with the robbery and arrested, after which he was
certain to be released for lack of evidence. He calculated that an
official discharge from any complicity in the stealing of the jewels
would so reassure Coleman that he might afterward betray himself,
through lack of caution, to watchful detectives. Coleman was accordingly
arrested, and held for the grand jury in Cooperstown. The case against
him was too weak to stand. The grand jurors were much absorbed in
conclusions drawn from the blood-stains found on the floor of the
basement of the Clark Estate office, and when it was shown that Coleman
bore no sign of scratch or scar they promptly discharged him. Coleman
left Cooperstown a free man, and chatted amicably with Dougherty as they
rode together on the train to New York. On reaching the city they parted
company at the Christopher Street elevated station, and Coleman rode on
up town to his home, serenely confident of Dougherty's failure and of
his own security.
This was in October. From the moment of his arrival in the city Coleman
was shadowed day and night. Detectives rented a room in a house across
the street from Coleman's flat. Whenever he left his home they
cautiously followed him. For a time he seemed to be making tests to
learn whether or not he was being followed. Sometimes he would enter a
large department-store, mingle with the crowds, and suddenly find his
way out of a side door into a little-frequented street. But the
detectives were equally wily. They adopted various disguises, and never
let him out of their sight. After about two months they observed that
Coleman began to make frequent trips toward Morningside Park. He made
always for the same region, where he appeared to walk aimlessly about,
but with his eyes fixed on the ground, as though counting his steps. On
the morning of the third of January, during a heavy snowstorm, Coleman
was followed to West 155th Street and Eighth Avenue, where, in a little
open space near an iron-foundry, he scraped aside the snow, and began a
small excavation of the earth. For some reason he failed to find the
object of his search, and returned home with an air of dejection. One
detective shadowed him homeward; the others did not wait for the falling
snow to obliterate the traces of his excavation. They began digging in
the same spot on a more generous scale, and eighteen inches below the
surface unearthed a glass fruit-jar. The jar, on being lifted to the
light, dazzled the eyes of the detectives, for it contained the missing
jewels, which for six months had lain there in the earth where thousands
of people had daily passed them by.
The detectives, having removed the jewels, placed in the jar a note
addressed to Billy Coleman, signed by Dougherty and his assistants,
McDonals and Wade, stating that they had the jewels, and would call upon
him at the earliest opportunity. They reburied the jar, and restored the
surroundings to their former condition. Coleman, as had been foreseen,
afterward returned to the spot, and dug up the jar. The detectives were
near enough to witness the wretched man's distress when, on reading the
note, he realized that the fortune had escaped him and that the prison
awaited him. He was immediately placed under arrest, and confessed all.
Concerning a few pieces of jewelry that were missing from those found in
the jar he gave information that led to their recovery. Coleman was once
more taken to Cooperstown, and, with the additional evidence, was easily
convicted of the robbery.
Coleman was a man of such remarkable intelligence and engaging
personality that Bishop Potter, whose near presence at the time of the
robbery the burglar little suspected, became much interested in him.
There is no doubt that Coleman was really touched by the kindness which
Bishop and Mrs. Potter showed to him and to his wife, and his resolution
to reform was quite sincere.
"There is nothing in being a crook," he said. "I am sixty years old, and
have been in prison half my life. My advice to young men is 'Don't
steal.'"
At Bishop Potter's request the sentence of the court was lighter than
Coleman's record might have warranted, and he was sent to Auburn prison
for six years and five months, a term which discounts for good behaviour
reduced to four years and four months.
Coleman's explanation of the blood-stains which had played so important
a part in the various theories of the robbery was one that nobody had
thought to venture. He said that before he opened the jewel-casket in
the basement he really had no idea what it contained, and when he saw
the fortune in gems that had come into his possession his great
excitement brought on a nose-bleed.[128] His clothes were so
blood-stained that he was in mortal fear of being arrested on that
account, but, as he wore a black suit, the stains were not conspicuous.
As to the woman's footprints, which the detectives said they found, no
explanation was ever made.
Ten years later an elderly man was arrested in New York, charged with
robbing a Wells-Fargo Express wagon on Broadway. With the aid of an
umbrella handle he had drawn from the rear of the wagon a package
containing $100,000 in cancelled cheques--not a very successful haul.
His age and apparent harmlessness so much impressed the justices in
Special Sessions that he would undoubtedly have been released on
suspended sentence had not a detective who had been engaged in the Clark
robbery case passed his cell in the Tombs. The detective recognized the
famous Billy Coleman, whose police record dated back to 1869, showing
thirteen arrests and a total period of twenty-eight years in prison.
Bishop Potter's last notable public appearance in Cooperstown was at the
Village Centennial Celebration in August of 1907. He was the most
picturesque figure in a scene rich in kaleidoscopic color and historic
significance when, on the Sunday afternoon which began the week's
festivities, multitudes listened beneath the sunlit trees upon the green
of the Cooper Grounds, while the Bishop, mantled in an academic gown of
crimson, described his vision of the future of religion in America.
The Cooperstown Centennial celebration was remarkable for its great
success in calm defiance of the fact that the year of its observance was
not really the centennial of anything worth commemorating in the history
of the village. The psychological moment seemed to have arrived when the
people of the village were resolved to devote themselves to some high
effort in praise of Cooperstown, and so they gloriously celebrated, in
1907, the centennial which a former generation had neglected, and which
succeeding generations might indolently ignore. A disused act of village
incorporation passed in 1807 was seized upon as suggesting a convenient
antiquity, but there was no slavish conformity to mere accidents of
date, and the whole history of Cooperstown was included in this elastic
centenary. The entire community was united in the desire and effort to
make the celebration a success, and the sticklers for historical
propriety became quite as enthusiastic as the others. The commemoration
was planned and carried out on a really dignified scale, with an
avoidance of tawdriness; and the elements of the celebration, with
religious, historical, literary exercises, and pageantry, were well
proportioned in their appeal to the mind, to the romantic emotions, and
to the love of the spectacular. Some of the addresses such as that of
Brander Matthews on Fenimore Cooper, were valuable contributions to the
literary annals of America. Throngs of spectators were attracted to
Cooperstown by the celebration, and in one day there were at least
15,000 people in the village which included only about 2,500 in its
normal population. The old village and lake offered an effective
background to the scenes of carnival. Natty Bumppo at home in his log
cabin, Chingachgook with his canoe, appeared in living representation in
the line of floats that paraded the village to set forth the historic
and romantic memories of the place. A chorus of village schoolgirls
dressed in white, and with flowing hair, presented an exquisite scene
at Cooper's grave in Christ churchyard, bringing their tribute of
flowers, and singing the lyric written by Andrew B. Saxton to the music
of Andrew Allez. Otsego Lake offered a superb spectacle in the calm
summer night, reflecting the glare of rockets and the bursting into
bloom of aerial gardens of flame. There were moments of utter darkness
suddenly dispelled by dazzling cataracts of fire that made one aware of
thousands of pallid faces thronging the shore, while the effulgence set
the waters ablaze from Council Rock to the Sleeping Lion, and flung a
weird splendor upon the forests of the surrounding hills.
[Illustration: _J. B. Slote_
THE LYRIC AT COOPER'S GRAVE]
A lovable patriarch of the village was Samuel M. Shaw, well known
throughout the state as editor of the _Freeman's Journal_. He had once
been an editor of the _Argus_, in Albany, and became editor and
proprietor of the _Freeman's Journal_ in Cooperstown in 1851. In this
position he continued more than half a century, and had a history almost
unique in village journalism. When he began his work Shaw was regarded
as an innovator, for he was one of the first editors in the country to
introduce columns of local news and personal items, a practice which, at
a time when newspapers were wholly devoted to politics, speeches,
foreign affairs and literary miscellany, was widely ridiculed. He
survived long enough to be regarded as an exemplar of conservative and
old-fashioned journalism, and became the Nestor of Cooperstown. In the
office of the _Freeman's Journal_, with its clutter of old machinery,
piles of grimy books, its floor littered with newspapers, its wall
streaked with cobwebs, the aged editor seemed exactly to fit into the
surroundings. Here he received his friends, for the bed-ridden wife at
Carr's Hotel, where he had rooms, was unequal to much social duty. The
printing-office was his kingdom, and here, at the battered desk, he
reigned supreme, a benevolent-looking man, with white beard closely
enough trimmed to show a firm mouth, while the bald head shone above the
desk as he bent his eyes closely to the pen in writing, and the left
hand occasionally stroked the cluster of silvery locks that overhung the
back of his collar. Late every afternoon he put aside his pen and
proof-sheets, and with a coat held capewise about his bent shoulders,
toddled to the Mohican Club to play bottle-pool with his old friend, G.
Pomeroy Keese. Every Sunday the editor's venerable figure was
conspicuous in a front pew of the Baptist church, in which he was a
pillar, and always held up as an example to the youth of the village.
When Samuel Shaw died, in 1907, occurred a dramatic episode which only a
village community can produce. During his long career Shaw had
accumulated a fair amount of property, and in his will had made kindly
bequests to certain friends. Not until his death did it become generally
known that his means had been dissipated by unfortunate speculations in
the stock market, which was then in a depressed condition, and that
margins upon which he had made purchases had been wiped out, hastening
his death by financial worry, and leaving his estate almost bankrupt.
At his funeral the Baptist church was crowded by a congregation which
represented the tribute of a whole village to a man who had been a
leader in its affairs for more than fifty years. The pastor of the
church, the Rev. Cyrus W. Negus, had not been long in the village, but
already was known for his earnestness and sincerity. To deliver a
funeral sermon over the body of so distinguished a member of his church
offered an opportunity to make an impression upon the entire community.
He began his sermon with the usual expressions of Christian faith in the
presence of death, and passed to a commendation of Samuel Shaw's many
good deeds in public service and private life during his long career.
Then he changed his tone, and, to the amazement of every hearer,
expressed his deep disapproval of the speculations in the stock market
which had brought the veteran editor in sorrow to the grave, and
declared that he was unable to indorse the qualities in the character of
a man so prominent in religious and civic life which permitted him to
resort to slippery methods of financial gain. In this respect Samuel
Shaw was to be held up not as an example, but as a warning to the youth
of the village.
Never was a congregation more astonished than when the speaker proceeded
to develop such a theme in the face of the mourning friends of the dead.
Probably the great majority of the congregation felt that the pastor's
view of the iniquity of such stock speculations was utterly mistaken.
Certainly all the friends of the dead editor were too indignant to
realize in that hour that they were witnesses of an unusual exhibition
of moral courage on the part of a preacher. It was some months later,
when the Rev. Cyrus W. Negus himself lay dead, and all the bells of the
village rang his requiem, that a friend and admirer of Samuel Shaw could
also fairly recognize the mettle of this preacher who had the pluck to
speak out what he believed to be his message, with every worldly reason
to be silent. He had dared to defy the conventions of indiscriminate
eulogy at funerals, to stand practically alone against public opinion,
and to turn an opportunity of winning popular applause into an occasion
for speaking out the necessary truth as he saw it. Some of his best
friends felt that he had blundered, but no one who saw and heard this
frail and pale-faced Baptist minister, as he stood by the coffin of
Samuel Shaw uttering the quiet words that fell like lead upon the tense
and breathless audience, may honestly deny his courage.
In some respects the most remarkable man in Cooperstown at this period
was Dr. Henry D. Sill. It is perhaps a singular distinction in a
Christian community that Dr. Sill should have been chiefly renowned for
being a Christian. It was not that the Christianity of the village was
below the average of Christian communities. It was rather that Dr. Sill
so strikingly personified the Christian virtues as to become a saint
among Christians. By common consent he was put in a class by himself.
Christians were exhorted to imitate him, but nobody was expected really
to equal him. He was at this time only forty years old, but was revered
not only by the young, but by the aged, as wise unto salvation. He was
the son of Jedediah P. Sill, a respected and influential business man of
Cooperstown, and after graduation at Princeton and at the College of
Physicians and Surgeons, he settled down to practise in his own village.
Dr. Sill lived with his sister at "The Maples," in the spacious house
which stands on Chestnut Street, with sculptured lions guarding the
doorway, next to the Methodist parsonage. His office occupied the little
wing at the north. Unlike some who pass for philanthropists in the
outer world, Henry Sill was regarded as a saint in his own household.
Mrs. Robe, the aged aunt who made one of the family, and cultivated the
art of growing old beautifully and gracefully, herself a Unitarian, used
always to conclude her frequent arguments against Calvinistic theology
by saying, "Well, Henry wouldn't treat people so, and I believe that God
is as good as Henry!"
Dr. Sill was a man of some means, but spent very little on himself. It
had been his ambition to be a missionary, but since circumstances made
it impossible to carry out this design, he annually contributed the
entire salary of a foreign missionary whom he called his "substitute."
He spent large sums of money in the improvement of Thanksgiving
Hospital, in which he was deeply interested, and the equipment of that
institution, especially of the operating-room, which gave it a rank far
above the hospitals in many larger towns, was chiefly owing to his
generosity.
Dr. Sill was a physician, but specialized in surgery, and, while he
never developed any spectacular rapidity of technique, became known as
one of the most capable and conscientious surgeons in central New York.
He always told patients what he believed to be the exact truth, and
without the untoward results which some practitioners apprehend from
such a policy. A surgeon who prayed with patients just before resorting
to the knife was sometimes rather disconcerting to the irreligious, but
his attitude was a comfort to many in the dire distress of illness, and
in all it inspired confidence in the man himself. In many an isolated
farm house of Otsego the only religious ministrations came with Dr.
Sill's medical attendance, and there were unnumbered cases in which his
call to heal the body resulted in the regeneration of a soul.
Where patients were able to pay, Dr. Sill charged a good price for his
services, but the fees were adjusted upon a sliding scale, and the
amount of his professional service without pay is incalculable. In this
respect he was not unlike his colleagues in a profession which probably
gives more for nothing than any other, but, having independent means, he
was able to go farther in this direction than most practitioners, and he
counted it a pleasure to give away his time and skill without reward.
There was a tinge of Puritanism in Dr. Sill's Christianity which to some
minds imported an unnecessary strictness of view, but none could quarrel
with it, for he practised his austerities upon himself, not toward
others. Certain precepts of the Sermon on the Mount usually interpreted
in a figurative sense he took literally as rules of action. "Give to him
that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou
away" was one of these. His literal fidelity to this precept afforded
him the deep satisfaction of giving aid to honest neighbors in distress;
it enabled him to come to the rescue in the emergencies which sometimes
face the most industrious and deserving. But also it gave him the pain
of learning how many plausible persons are eager to make fair promises
that mean nothing, and taught him that there are human beings to whom
acts of loving-kindness are as pearls before swine. The honest man in
trouble came to Dr. Sill, the drunkard to take the pledge, the sorrowful
to be comforted, the desperate to be advised. But so came also the
rogue, and the wheedling hypocrite, and all such as desired to obtain
something for nothing. The doctor had a large acquaintance among
unfortunate outcasts, for he regularly visited the county jail to talk
and pray with its inmates. The extent to which Dr. Sill aided the
worthless was a cause of grief to the judicious, but he was not really,
as some supposed, the dupe of impostors. He was well aware of the
probably unworthy character of many to whom he gave assistance, but
there was always an element of doubt in such cases, and his theory was
that it was better to aid ninety-nine humbugs than to take the risk of
closing the door against one who was deserving of help.
Dr. Sill was much consulted in relation to the civic and religious
welfare of the community. His conscientious habit of deciding in all
things, great and small, upon the absolutely right course of action gave
him an air of slowness and hesitation in manner. He would stand
listening intently, without comment, to violent arguments for and
against a project, turning toward each speaker the frank dark eyes that
illumined his pale countenance. When it came to his decision he had a
way of planting his right heel forward, and compressing his lips, which
he then opened with a slight smack of determination, giving quiet
utterance to his judgment. It was usually quite impossible to move him
from a decision thus made, and those who misinterpreted the mildness of
his manner soon learned that the man himself was adamant.
The first years of the twentieth century included an era of new
buildings. Just above Leatherstocking Falls, in 1908, William E. Guy of
St. Louis built and established the beautiful summer home at
Leatherstocking Farm. The remains of the old grist mill at the falls
were torn down, and the stones from the foundation were used in the new
building.
In 1910, James Fenimore Cooper of Albany, grandson of the novelist,
built Fynmere (the name being an old form of the word Fenimore) as a
country residence. Its site on the hillside above the road that curves
about the southern end of Mount Vision commands a superb view down the
Susquehanna Valley, while the eastern windows of the house look into the
heart of the ascending forest. The use of native field stone in the
construction of this house is most effective, and at once gave to the
residence, when fresh from the builder's hands, the air of being long
habituated to the spot, and quite in harmony with the antiquities that
abound in the appointments and ornamentation of the place. Within a
niche of the main hall of the house is the bust of Fenimore Cooper which
David d'Angers made in Paris in 1828; and embedded in the foundation of
the building is the corner-stone with the original marking that Cooper
carved in 1813 for the house that he built, but which was burned before
he could move into it, at Fenimore. Fynmere has contributed to the
revival of pleasures that belonged to an elder day in Cooperstown, for
it has drawn hither large house-parties of young people to enjoy the
holidays of Christmastide, to join in winter sports, and to appreciate
the splendors of snow and ice in a region usually renowned only for the
charm of its summer season.
From the beginning of Cooperstown's celebrity as a watering-place the
hope was cherished, among the residents, that the village might include
a suitable hotel overlooking the lake, and attracting visitors to linger
on its shores. This dream was realized in 1909 when the O-te-sa-ga
opened, having been built by Edward S. Clark and his brother Stephen C.
Clark. The hotel was planned to accommodate three hundred guests, and
occupies the old site of Holt-Averell, commanding a magnificent view of
the full length of the lake.
Cooperstown is a village of incomparable charm. There is not the like of
it in all America. It has a character of its own sufficiently
distinctive to prevent it from becoming the leech-like community into
which, through the slow commercializing of native self-respect, a summer
resort sometimes degenerates, stupidly enduring the winter in order to
batten upon the pleasures of the rich in summer. Cooperstown is old
enough and wise enough to have a juster appreciation of lasting values.
It has tradition and atmosphere. It is a village that rejoices in the
simple virtues of life peculiar to a small community, while its fame as
a summer resort annually brings its residents within reach of far
influences and wide horizons.
[Illustration: COOPERSTOWN FROM MT. VISION]
All lovers of Cooperstown know a favorite summer walk that passes from
the village up the hill on the eastern border of the lake, rises beyond
Prospect Rock, winds over a wooded summit, descends, turns westerly
through a shady grove, crosses a farm, then threads a stretch of densest
foliage, when suddenly one emerges upon a clearing, and unexpectedly
beholds, glittering far below, the waters of the Glimmerglass, with the
homes and spires of the village gleaming amidst the green leafage of the
valley.
It is impossible not to idealize the village when one views it from this
height. To the tourist, who comes merely to admire, it is a view that
possesses the glamour of enchantment. How happy should be the people who
dwell in this peaceful village, surrounded by such charming scenery! How
lofty should be their ideals, and how pure their lives, who abide amid
such glories of nature!
But for residents of Cooperstown this view is one that has more than
beauty. It grips the heart. As the resident looks down upon the streets
and houses amongst the trees it is with a sympathetic knowledge of the
dwellers there, and of the joys that delight them, of the sorrows that
crush them, of the sins that dog them, and of the hopes that inspire
them.
The drama of life has been many times enacted amid the scenes of this
village, and here is the prologue and epilogue of many a romance and
tragedy.
Boys and girls are at play in the streets, and are skylarking along the
shore of lake and river. Ambitious youngsters go out into the wider
world to seek their fortunes. But there is always a homecoming. Youth
has its day.
There are two aged men from different quarters of the village who daily
resort in summer to the Cooper Grounds, and sit in the sunshine upon the
same bench. Either is visibly uneasy until the other arrives. But
together they are happy. On this spot where the history of the village
began they take turns at being narrator and listener, while each relates
to the other the story of his life, and describes his triumphs in days
that are gone. They give no heed to passers-by, or to the traffic of
neighboring streets. But a village church bell tolls, and they fall
silent, lifting their heads to watch the funeral train as it passes the
Cooper Grounds and winds slowly upward from the main street to the quiet
garden by the lake, on the slope of the eastern hills.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 128: George S. Dougherty, in _Chicago Saturday Blade_, January
8, 1916.]
[Illustration: VILLAGE MAP OF COOPERSTOWN]
VISITORS' GUIDE
Chief points of interest are indicated on the village map, in the order
most convenient for a short tour, by letters from A to M.
A--Cooper Grounds. Site of Fenimore Cooper's residence.
B--Cooper's grave in Christ churchyard. Christ Church, erected 1807, in
which he worshipped.
C--Fernleigh, the Clark residence, where Bishop Potter died.
D--Byberry Cottage, built for the daughters of Fenimore Cooper, 1852.
E--Pomeroy Place, "the old stone house," 1804.
F--Indian Mound, in the northeast corner of Fernleigh-Over.
G--Oldest house in the village, 1790.
H--Edgewater, 1810.
I--Council Rock, mentioned in _The Deerslayer_ as the meeting-place of
the Indians.
J--Mortar marking site of Clinton's Dam, during the Revolution, 1779.
K--Village Library and Museum.
L--Clark Estate Offices, 1831.
M--Public Boat Landings.
N--Mill Island.
O--Former residence of Justice Nelson, U.S. Supreme Court.
P--Universalist church.
Q--Presbyterian church, 1805.
R--Baptist church.
S--Church of St. Mary, Our Lady of the Lake.
T--Methodist church.
U--Grounds upon which the first game of Base Ball was played.
V--O-te-sa-ga.
W--Riverbrink.
X--Lakelands, 1804.
Y--Woodside, 1829.
Z--Fynmere, 1910.
*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Story of Cooperstown" ***
Copyright 2023 LibraryBlog. All rights reserved.