Chapter II: Part 2

When Gosnold prepared to return to England in his vessel, the "Concord," with a cargo of native products, such as sassafras, cedar, etc., those who had planned to remain and settle returned with him, fearing that they might not share in the expected profits. But they could not take back with them the cellar to the house they had built, and what little vestige of the hole that still remains in that island within an island is to-day pointed out as the spot where the first white settler's house was built hereabouts. Unfortunately for the picturesqueness and poetry of this historic incident, modern civilization has utilized the island as a hen-yard, and the historic cellar as a chicken-roost.

The real history of Southern Massachusetts began in June, 1664, when the General Court of the Plymouth Colony passed an order that "all that tracte of land called and known by the name of Acushena,[1] Ponogansett, and Coaksett, is allowed by the court to bee a townshipe, and said towne bee henceforth ... called and knowne by the name of Dartmouth." In November, 1652, Wamsutta and his father, Massasoit, had signed a deed conveying to William Bradford, Capt. Standish, Thomas Southworth, John Winslow, John Cooke, and their associates all the land lying three miles eastward from a river called the Coshenegg to Acoaksett, to a flat rock on the western side of the said harbor, the conveyance including all that land from the sea upward "so high that the English may not be annoyed by the hunting of the Indians, in any sort, of their cattle." The price paid for this tract was, thirty yards of cloth, eight moose-skins, fifteen axes, fifteen hoes, fifteen pairs of breeches, eight blankets, two kettles, one cloak, two pounds wampum, eight pairs stockings, eight pairs shoes, one iron pot, and ten shillings in other commodities. This immense tract had twenty miles of sea-coast, not to mention harbors, etc., and represents, besides the present township of Dartmouth, New Bedford, Fairhaven, Westport, and Acushnet.[2]

[1] In the old records this name is variously spelled Acushena,
Accushnutt, Cushnet, Acushnett, Acushnet, etc. The spelling now always
used is Acushnet. Apponegansett was often spelled without the initial A.

[2] The original township of Dartmouth was owned by thirty-six
proprietors at the time of its settlement. This old proprietorship was a
_quasi_ corporation, which existed for 170 years. It conveyed all the
lands sold until at last nothing remained. Its meetings were then mere
formalities, and they finally died for lack of attendance.

In a brief article it is impossible to give more than the cream of the whole story of the growth and existence of this settlement. It experienced the vicissitudes of Indian depredations and wars. In the King Philip war it was nearly obliterated, only the little settlement of Apponegansett surviving. But at the return of peace the settlers took up their old avocations, and gradually, but surely, made the old town of Dartmouth. The story of nearly every other outlying settlement in those days is the story of this one, so that all that concerns us are the historical events peculiar to this.

These early inhabitants combined tilling the soil and extracting the wealth of the sea, only, however, as shore fishermen, and an occasional off-shore whaling voyage in small boats. One event in early history shows that the people were possessed of something more than the traditional courage and bold seamanship for which southern Massachusetts was ever famed, and shows a spiritual courage as well as that deliberate manly determination to overcome all physical obstacles to existence with which the early settlers were permeated.

This was the dispute between the General Court at Plymouth and the town authorities regarding a settled minister. A good two-thirds of the people were Friends, and one of their number provided for their spiritual wants without compensation. Those remaining were mostly Baptists, who also had among them a _quasi_ minister who acted as pastor. But the General Court at Plymouth wanted the settlers to have _their_ kind of a minister; so in 1671 they ordered the settlers to raise L15 by taxation "to help towards the support of such as may dispense the word of God." But as the settlers were satisfied with their own ministers they refused to obey the order. Fortunately they were far away from the court. Then about that time King Philip's war broke out, and absorbed the whole attention of the court; although time enough was found to warn the people that the calamity of war was due to the "lack of a dispenser of the word of God" among them. But no sooner had the war ended than the old dispute was taken up just where it was left off. The court pleaded and persuaded, then commanded, and finally threatened; but year after year the colonists continued doing as they pleased, regardless of the court. Finally, in 1722, as a last resort, the court ingeniously combined the provincial and ministerial tax, L181 12s. in all, with the intention of providing a minister by that means. The town called a meeting, and, after promptly voting the provincial tax of L81 12s., as promptly refused to raise the extra L100, which they recognized as the ministerial tax in a new garb. Such defiance led to the arrest of the selectmen, and they were imprisoned at Taunton. This thoroughly aroused the town. A meeting was immediately held, and L700 was unanimously voted to support the selectmen. This enormous sum for those days was used partly to support the selectmen and their families, but mostly to send an embassy to England to seek redress from the King and his council. In this the colonists were successful, for not only were the selectmen ordered released from prison, but the province of Massachusetts Bay was ordered to remit the obnoxious taxes which it had in vain tried for thirty-one years to collect. It was not until about this time that what is now New Bedford was settled. Joseph Russell had been practically the sole inhabitant. He was succeeded by his twin sons John and Joseph. The latter lived near the heart of the site of the present city, and is regarded as its real founder. For some time vessels of all classes had fitted out in the Apponegansett river, but he sent his from the Acushnet. His merchantmen sailed all over the seas. At the same time he fitted out whaling vessels. These whalers were small sloops and schooners, which only went off-shore, captured a whale or two, then returned to try out the oil. In connection with this business Mr. Russell had built try works, and he started a sperm-oil factory. The infant whaling industry began about 1760 to attract a boat-builder, then a carpenter, a blacksmith, and so on until gradually there became quite a little settlement. Larger vessels were built, voyages were extended to some two or three weeks, and sometimes to as many months, the seas being scoured from Newfoundland to Virginia for whales.

The year 1765 was an eventful one, as it brought Joseph Rotch, a man of means and experience, from Nantucket,--or Sherburn as it was called up to 1790,--to carry on the whaling business here; and his vessels, together with those of other new-comers, materially increased the size of the little fleet sailing from the Acushnet river. The settlement had now become quite a little village, and needed a distinctive name, as it had always been regarded as a part of the village of Acushnet; so it was christened Bedford, and in after years the New was added to distinguish it from the Bedford near Boston.

Being deeper, broader, and a safer harbor than the Apponegansett, the Acushnet river gradually absorbed most of the fleet that had sailed from there, so that the little fleet of a few vessels in 1765 had become one of fifty vessels in 1773. Among these vessels was one owned by Mr. Rotch,--the "Dartmouth,"--which will be remembered as long as the American republic stands, for it was this vessel that took the tea to Boston which was thrown overboard at the time of the famous Tea Party in 1773.

But the Revolution put a stop to a continuance of this marvellous growth, and during the following eight years in the struggle for liberty, decay, fire, and the English did fatal destruction to the vessels in Buzzard's Bay. Mr. Rotch returned to his off-shore island home, taking his vessels with him, and one or two other merchants followed his example and moved away. What vessels remained after these desertions were moored along the wharves. But the people did not settle down in idleness to wait for the war to be over. While the women were working for the soldiers, in providing them clothing, etc., the men young and old proved that their sea-training in the catching of whales was invaluable in manning the little navy of the colonies. With such men behind him, John Paul Jones scoured the ocean and even defied the English in their own harbors, and the little navy became a powerful and dangerous foe to the proud mistress of the seas. Not the least destructive vessels of the brave American navy were the whaling vessels from Buzzard's Bay made over into men-of-war. The frequent and astonishing victories of these vessels caused many valuable prizes to be brought into the bay, and the natural consequence was the raid of Major Gen. Gray, accompanied by the ill-fated Andre, on the fourth day of September, and the day following, in 1778, by which nearly the whole town of Bedford was laid in ashes and property to the value of over half a million of dollars destroyed, together with seventy vessels, including eight large ships with their cargoes, and four privateers.

At the first whisperings of peace, Capt. Moores, of the good ship "Bedford," with a cargo of oil, set sail for London, and first displayed to the defeated English, in their great metropolis, the stars and stripes of the infant republic of the western world. This promptness of Capt. Moores is a fair sample of the manner in which the village of Bedford grasped the return of peace and rushed into its former industries. The greater part of the village had been rebuilt; the vessels that survived the war--most of them as men-of-war--were refitted, and whaling and commerce resumed, although it was years before whaling fairly got on its feet again. This was owing to the lack of a market for oil, as England and France had passed laws practically prohibiting its importation. Some merchants were forced to live in French or English territory and sail under those flags, in order to pursue whaling with any profit.

In 1787 the General Court of Massachusetts incorporated the town of New Bedford, and in 1847 it became a city. The census of 1790 reported a population of 3,313 in the new town. But there was nothing at this time to cause the town to grow, nor was there until 1804, when, through the intercessions of William Rotch, Sr., Great Britain remitted her alien duty on oil. From that year New Bedford began to assume her distinctive character as the whaling port preeminent of the world. The stock in trade to begin with was no meagre one, as it consisted of fifty-nine vessels of 19,146 tons' burden, about thirty of them being brigs and ships employed in the merchant service with Europe, South America, and the West Indies. This fleet suffered terribly from the impressment of seamen, then the embargo, and finally by the second war with England, during which many vessels were captured. This over, the place began in earnest its distinctive career.

A few words as to the history of whaling in America. Capt. John Smith makes mention of catching a few whales on some of his voyages, and it is known that the Indians had quite a passion for hunting the whale, or _powdawe_ as they called it. The Montauk Indians regarded the fin or tail of a whale as a rare sacrifice to their deity. As the early settlers began to spread throughout New England, it became quite an industry along the sea-shore to hunt stranded whales for their oil and blubber. This naturally led to hunting them in their native element, and the industry extended along Cape Cod and Long Island, and, about 1672, was introduced on the islands of Nantucket and Martha's Vineyard. About fifty years later the brave Nantucket seamen began whaling in large boats, and within the following twenty-five years Nantucket had direct communication with England in her ships. These brave early mariners were the first who understood and made use of the Gulf Stream, and by them it was explained to the English admiralty. At the opening of the Revolution there were one hundred and fifty vessels that sailed from Nantucket; but at the close of the war one hundred and thirty-four of these had been captured and fifteen more wrecked. The war also cost this island twelve hundred sailors, and was the making of two hundred and two widows and three hundred and forty-two orphans.

In the year 1815 there sailed from Nantucket fifty whalers, while only ten sailed from New Bedford. But the New Bedford fleet increased rapidly year by year, reaching the climax in 1852, when two hundred and seventy-eight sailed. From that date there has been an almost uninterrupted decline in the whaling industry. Nantucket's decline began many years earlier. In 1860 she had only very few vessels left, and in 1872 her last whaler, the bark "Oak," was sold. In 1835 whaling was at its height, the whole fleet of the United States consisting of six hundred and seventy-eight ships and barks, thirty-five brigs, and twenty-two schooners, valued at twenty-one millions of dollars; while the foreign fleet consisted of only two hundred and thirty vessels of various kinds. From the off-shore fishing as practised in the early days of the industry, voyages had extended to all parts of the Atlantic, and before the opening of the nineteenth century a considerable fleet was cruising in the Pacific Ocean. By 1820 these voyages had extended to Japan, and in 1836 they reached what is known as the Kodiak Grounds. In 1848 the wonderful field in the Arctic, by way of Behring's Strait, was discovered by bark "Superior." Three years later two hundred and fifty vessels took advantage of the "Superior's" discovery and entered the same grounds. The largest catch in these grounds was in 1852, when two hundred and seventy-eight vessels got three hundred and seventy-three thousand, four hundred and fifty barrels of oil. Since then there has been a very great decline; the Arctic fleet of 1876 consisting of only twenty vessels, which caught five thousand, two hundred and fifty barrels of oil. The fleet of 1885 consisted of forty-one vessels, more than half hailing from New Bedford; but four of the fleet were lost.

Seven years before the wonderful catch of 1852, disasters and other reverses had caused many serious failures, and from that date really begins the decline in whaling, which was rapid after 1860. But meantime San Francisco had worked into the business. For years vessels had fitted out from the Sandwich Islands, returning home only about once in five years. But there were many abuses and disadvantages in this; hence San Francisco as it grew in importance became the head-quarters for fitting, and one ship after another was transferred from the New Bedford fleet to that of San Francisco, until now she is next to New Bedford in the whaling business. It is doubtful if the fleet sailing from Buzzard's Bay twenty-five years hence is half the size of the fleet of to-day; for vessels that are lost, sold, or broken up are seldom replaced. The astonishing decline in this industry is shown by the fact that three hundred and eleven whaling vessels were owned in New Bedford in 1855. Thirty years later, in 1885, only one hundred and thirty-five such vessels were owned in the whole United States, eighty-six of which hailed from New Bedford, twenty from San Francisco, and the rest from Provincetown, New London, Edgartown, Boston, Stonington, and Marion.

The disasters which have befallen the whaling industry are many and fearful. During the late war rebel cruisers captured fifty vessels, forty-six of them, with their cargoes and outfits, being burned. Twenty-eight of them were New Bedford vessels. These, with other losses, show what New Bedford had at stake before the Court of Commissioners of Alabama Claims. Her slice of the Geneva Award will approximate, when all paid, three millions of dollars. The "stone fleets," sunk off Charleston and Savannah harbors in 1861, drew heavily on whaling vessels; for more money would be paid by the Government for vessels than they could earn in whaling. In the first stone fleet were twelve New Bedford whalers, and in the second, eight. Then there were the horrible calamities of 1871 and 1876. In the former year thirty-three vessels were crushed or abandoned in the Arctic, twenty-two belonging in New Bedford. The direct loss from this was one million, one hundred thousand dollars. Twelve hundred and nineteen men were thrust out on the ice to perish from cold and hunger. Nothing but the bravery of Capt. Frazier, of one of the abandoned vessels, in journeying seventy miles over the ice-fields to the fleet outside for rescue, prevented untold suffering and death. In the calamity of 1876 twelve vessels were abandoned, causing a loss to New Bedford merchants of about six hundred and sixty thousand dollars. But a greater horror was added to this calamity, some fifty lives being lost.

The wealth that was brought to New Bedford by whaling in its palmiest days was enormous, and gave the city the reputation of being the wealthiest of its size in the world. The catch of 1853, the banner year, was over one hundred and three thousand barrels of sperm oil, valued at four millions, fifty thousand, five hundred and forty dollars; two hundred and sixty thousand, one hundred and fourteen barrels of whale oil, valued at four millions, seven hundred and sixty-two thousand, five hundred and twenty-five dollars; and five millions, six hundred and fifty-two thousand, three hundred pounds of bone, valued at one million, nine hundred and fifty thousand, forty-four dollars,--bone that year averaging only thirty-four and one-half cents per pound; while it now sells at from $2 to $2.50 per pound. The catch of the one hundred and thirteen vessels arriving in the following year brought into the city some over six millions of dollars. In 1866, when prices were very high, the cargoes of the forty vessels that arrived aggregated over four millions of dollars. All was not always palmy, however. Forty-four of the sixty-eight vessels that arrived home in 1858 made losing voyages, causing a direct loss of a million of dollars. Other disasters of less importance have never been uncommon.

It is estimated that between seven hundred and twenty-five and seven hundred and fifty whaling vessels have been owned and sailed from New Bedford. Of these at least two hundred and fifty are known to have been lost. This means immense losses, for not only did the vessels cost from fifteen to seventy-five thousand dollars each, but the outfittings and catches were also partially or wholly lost. At the beginning of this century it cost somewhere about twelve to fifteen thousand dollars to fit out a vessel for a good voyage. In 1858 the cost had increased to about sixty-five thousand dollars, voyages were of longer duration, and catches had increased only about twofold in value. To-day a good outfit falls but little, if any, below fifty thousand dollars. The cost of fitting out the sixty-five vessels that sailed in 1858 was estimated at one million, nine hundred and fifty thousand dollars.[3] The catch since 1800 is believed to have been at least a quarter of a million of sperm whales and nearly as many more right whales, the total value being approximately one hundred and fifty millions of dollars.

[3] This included, besides, $130,000 in advance wages, 13,650 barrels of
flour, 10,400 barrels of beef, 7,150 barrels of pork, 97,500 gallons of
molasses, 78,000 pounds of sugar, 39,000 pounds of rice, 39,000 pounds
of dried apples, 19,500 pounds of cheese, 16,300 pounds of ham, 32,500
pounds of codfish, 18,000 pounds of coffee, 450 whale-boats, 205,000
yards of canvas, etc.

Volumes might be told of the experiences of whalemen, of their contests with the natives of many an island in the Pacific, of wrecks, of the bravery with which masters have stood by one another in times of need or trouble, of the great benefits whaling has been to commerce, of the discoveries by masters in their searches for new grounds, of the fields opened for the missionaries, of the men rescued from danger and bondage, etc., etc.[4]

[4] The world will ever be grateful to whaling for having rescued from
penal servitude John Boyle O'Reilly, the gifted Irishman, who has given
to the world so many beautiful poems.

Up to the time of the war, and perhaps till its close, the history of New Bedford and the whaling industry was identical. But the discovery of petroleum, the scarcity of whales, and at the same time the low price of oil, necessitated an entirely new field for the capital and energy so long devoted to whaling. For a period of ten years or so the city was in a transition state, the conservative element contending for a continuation of the old order of things, while the younger blood demanded the necessary changes to keep abreast of the times. At one time it did look as though the conservatives would succeed; but gradually one industry after another got a foothold. Then the panic of 1872 demonstrated that a man who has money must invest it where he can watch it, instead of trusting to luck in some wild-cat railroad scheme out West. By the concentration and investment at home of some of the money saved from the wreck, the Wamsutta mills have become a corporation with a capital of three million dollars. The Potomska mills have accumulated a capital of fifteen hundred thousand, the Grinnell mill has eight hundred thousand, the Acushnet mill six hundred thousand, the Yarn mills three hundred thousand. In addition to these cotton mills other industries have sprung up, so that the total capital represented by the various corporations is over nine millions of dollars. Banking also proved profitable. Of the five national banks three have a capital of a million dollars each, another has six hundred thousand, and the fifth half a million; making a total capital of four millions, one hundred thousand. Add to this the surplus funds, premiums on the stock, etc., and the amount of money represented by these five national banks falls little short of ten millions of dollars. The Institution for Savings has deposits of over ten millions, and, with over three millions of deposits in the other savings-bank, the seven New Bedford banks represent some twenty-three millions of dollars.

But New Bedford is not, or never has been, devoted entirely to the scramble for wealth. Her public schools have been given a place among the best, their cost last year being one hundred thousand dollars. She has given to the world many scholarly as well as smart men. During the war she did her duty bravely, sending eleven hundred more men than her quota. With all of her business she has not neglected her duties to her country or to her own citizens. One of the prides of the city is the Public Library, established under an act of the State Legislature of May 24, 1851, authorizing the incorporation of public libraries. A year and twelve days afterward the common council appropriated fifteen hundred dollars for its support. Before the action of the city government the library had existed a long time as the old Social Library, and before that time as the Library Society, but when the State authorized the incorporation of such institutions it immediately entered the wider field. To-day it has fifty thousand volumes. It has the income of the Sylvia Ann Rowland fund of fifty thousand dollars, the Charles W. Morgan fund of one thousand dollars, the George Rowland, Jr. fund of sixteen hundred dollars, the Oliver Crocker fund of one thousand dollars, and the James B. Congdon fund of five hundred dollars. Besides the culture of books, New Bedford has always been blessed by the presence and words of ministers far above the average in talent and earnestness. The dispute of the early settlers with the General Court showed that the people were particular as to the quality of their spiritual food, and this fastidiousness seems to have been handed down from generation to generation, judging from the _personnel_ of the men. Dr. Samuel West, who preached at the Head of the River from 1761 to 1803, was of just that material to satisfy the spiritual wants of his time. Especially should his name be honored for the vigor and determination with which he threw himself, body and soul, into the struggle for independence. Nor should the names of George L. Prentiss, Moses How, and others be forgotten. One branch of the parent church, the First Congregational (Unitarian) Society, which built its present substantial edifice in 1836-7-8, has had a continuity of pastors hardly equalled anywhere for real spiritual living, thinking, and teaching. Dr. Orville Dewey, who was settled in 1823, was much beloved by everybody, and in his last years, at his home in Sheffield, among the Berkshire hills, he won the hearts of all there by his beauty of character, as he had done here. While Dr. Dewey was abroad, in 1833, and a year or so following, Ralph Waldo Emerson supplied the pulpit. The present church was dedicated in 1838, and Rev. Dr. Ephraim Peabody and Rev. J. H. Morison were installed as pastors. The former remained with the society until 1845, and the latter until 1844. In 1847 Rev. John Weiss became pastor, remaining until ill-health compelled him to resign, in 1857. Two years later Rev. William J. Potter, who is not only the typical preacher but the typical practitioner of his preaching, was installed, and yet holds the pastorate. The bell of this church, tradition says, was formerly in a Spanish convent. Whether this be so or not, its clear, musical tone gives evidence that it is of high pedigree.

Nothing could more fittingly close this article than a notice of that monument to the charitable souls of New Bedford, the Union for Good Works. This is a noble institution, not only because it cares for the poor, but because it aids them to be self-reliant and self-supporting by tiding over times of need. It provides sewing or other work for needy women; it maintains a sales-room for the handiwork of the indigent or the gentlewoman reduced in circumstances, whether the work be preserves, needle-work, or anything that is salable; it has a large reception-room well stocked with the best papers, periodicals, and magazines, books, all the parlor games, etc.; it provides throughout the winter season a series of popular entertainments of high order and little cost; in short, it endeavors to lighten the burdens of those in dependence of distress, and to make pleasanter the life of those whose existence is a continuous struggle. It has the spending of about three-quarters of the income of the one hundred thousand dollars left by James Arnold for the aid of the worthy poor of the city of New Bedford. Besides that it has accumulated a fund of about thirty thousand dollars, by donation and otherwise. This will not be touched, however, until it has reached at least fifty thousand dollars. It will then provide sufficient income to meet the expenses of the Union. There are the various branches of work, the relief committee, the sewing-women's branch, the fruit and flour committee, the prison committee, the hospitality section, and others. The Union is the outgrowth of the sermon preached by Rev. William J. Potter at his tenth anniversary, but it is not sectarian in any sense.

HENRY BARNARD--THE AMERICAN EDUCATOR.

BY THE LATE HON. JOHN D. PHILBRICK.[5]

The career of Henry Barnard as a promoter of the cause of education has no precedent and is without a parallel. We think of Page as a great practical teacher; of Gallaudet as the founder of a new institution; of Pestalozzi as the originator of a new method of instruction; of Spurzheim as the expounder of the philosophy of education, and of Horace Mann as its most eloquent advocate; but Mr. Barnard stands before the world as the national educator. We know, indeed, that he has held office, and achieved great success in the administration and improvement of systems of public instruction in particular States. But these labors, however important, constitute only a segment, so to speak, in the larger sphere of his efforts. Declining numerous calls to high and lucrative posts of local importance and influence, he has accepted the whole country as the theatre of his operations, without regard to State lines, and by the extent, variety, and comprehensiveness of his efforts has earned the title of the American Educator. It is in this view that his course has been patterned after no example, and admits of no comparison. But if in his plan, equally beneficent and original, he had no example to copy, he has furnished one worthy alike of admiration and imitation.

[5] "Massachusetts Teacher," January, 1858.

Mr. Barnard was a native of Hartford, Conn., where his family had lived from the first settlement of the colony. He was born on the 24th of January, 1811, in the fine mansion where he now resides. The son of a wealthy farmer, and living within half a mile of the centre of a considerable town and the State capital, he was placed in the most favorable circumstances for early physical and mental development.

His elementary instruction was received at the district school, which, with all its imperfections, "as it was," he remembers with gratitude, not indeed on account of the amount of learning acquired in it, but because it was a common school, "a school of equal rights, where merit, and not social position, was the acknowledged basis of distinction, and therefore the fittest seminary to give the schooling essential to the American citizen."

While pursuing the studies preparatory for college at Monson Mass., and at the Hopkins Grammar School in Hartford, his proficiency was brilliant; and such was his eagerness for knowledge that, in addition to the prescribed course, he extended his reading among the works of the best English authors.

Having entered Yale College in 1826, he graduated with honor in 1830.

The five subsequent years were mainly devoted to a thorough professional training for the practice of the law, the severer study of the legal text-books being relieved by the daily reading of a portion of the ancient and modern classics. This course of study was fortunately interrupted for a few months to take charge of an academy, where he improved the opportunity to acquire some knowledge of the theory and practice of teaching. This experience had considerable influence in determining some of the most important subsequent events of his life.

Before entering on the practice of his profession he spent some time in Europe, for the twofold purpose of study and travel. Already well fitted by study and natural taste to profit by the opportunities of foreign travel, he made further and special preparation by a tour through the Southern and Western States, and a visit to all the most interesting localities in New England. "Leaving home like a philosopher, to mend himself and others," he returned with his mind enriched by observation not only of nature and art but especially of the social condition and institutions of the people.

In the first public address which he had occasion to make after his return he said, "Every man must at once make himself as good and as useful as he can, and help at the same time to make everybody about him, and all whom he can reach, better and happier." This was the sentiment which controlled the motives of his conduct. Fidelity to this truly grand and worthy aim induced him, not long afterwards, to abandon the flattering prospects of professional eminence which were opening upon his vision, to retire from all active participation in political affairs, after a brief but brilliant career in the Legislature of his native State, and to devote himself to the great work of educational reform and improvement. To him the credit is due of originating and securing the passage, by the Legislative Assembly, while a member, in 1837, of the resolution requiring the Comptroller to obtain from School Visitors official returns respecting public schools in the several School Societies, and in 1838, of an "Act to provide for the better supervision of Common Schools."

This was the first decisive step towards the revival of education in Connecticut. The Board of Commissioners of Common Schools established by this act, was immediately organized, and Mr. Barnard accepted the office of secretary, Mr. Gallaudet, who was first elected on his motion, having declined. He devoted his energies to the arduous duties of this office till 1842, when the Board was abolished. These duties as prescribed by the Board were:--

1st. To ascertain, by personal inspection of the schools, and by
written communications from school officers and others, the actual
condition of the schools.

2d. To prepare an abstract of such information for the use of the
Board and the Legislature, with plans and suggestions for the
better organization and administration of the school system.

3d. To attend and address at least one meeting of such parents,
teachers, and school officers as were disposed to come together on
public notice, in each county, and as many local meetings as other
duties would allow.

4th. To edit and superintend the publication of a journal devoted
exclusively to the promotion of common-school education. And,

5th. To increase in any practicable way the interest and
intelligence of the community in relation to the whole subject of
popular education.

Possessing fine powers of oratory, wielding a ready and able pen, animated by a generous and indomitable spirit, willing to spend and be spent in the cause of benevolence and humanity, he had every qualification for the task but experience. Speaking of his fitness for carrying out the measures of educational reform and improvement in Connecticut, and of the results of his efforts, Horace Mann said, in the "Massachusetts Common School Journal," "It is not extravagant to say that, if a better man be required, we must wait, at least, until the next generation, for a better one is not to be found in the present. This agent entered upon his duties with unbounded zeal. He devoted to their discharge his time, talents, and means.

"The cold torpidity of the State soon felt the sensations of returning vitality. Its half-suspended animation began to quicken with a warmer life. Much and most valuable information was diffused. Many parents began to appreciate more adequately what it was to be a parent; teachers were awakened; associations for mutual improvement were formed; system began to supersede confusion; some salutary laws were enacted; all things gave favorable augury of a prosperous career, and it may be further affirmed that the cause was so administered as to give occasion of offence to no one. The whole movement was kept aloof from political strife. All religious men had reason to rejoice that a higher tone of moral and religious feeling was making its way into schools, without giving occasion of jealousy to the one-sided views of any denomination. But all these auguries were delusive. In an evil hour the whole fabric was overthrown."

The four volumes of the "Common School Journal," issued during this period, and the four reports presented by him to the Legislature, with other contemporary documents, justify the remarks quoted from Mr. Mann. The reports have been eagerly read and highly prized by the soundest educators. Chancellor Kent, in his "Commentaries on American Law" (edition of 1844), after devoting nearly two pages to an analysis of his first report, characterizes it as "a bold and startling document, founded on the most painstaking and critical inquiry, and containing a minute, accurate, comprehensive, and instructive exhibition of the practical condition and operation of the common-school system of education." In referring to his subsequent reports, the same distinguished jurist speaks of him as "the most able, efficient, and best-informed officer that could, perhaps, be engaged in the service;" and of his publications as containing "a digest of the fullest and most valuable information that is to be obtained on the subject of common schools, both in Europe and the United States."

It should be stated in this connection, as evidence of the disinterestedness of his motives, that these labors were performed without any pecuniary compensation; for although the amount allowed him out of the treasury of the State, for the service of nearly four years, was $3,747, this sum he expended back again in promoting the prosperity and usefulness of the schools.

The year following the abolition of the Board of Commissioners of Common Schools in Connecticut he spent in visiting every section of the country, to collect the material for a "History of Public Schools and the Means of Popular Education in the United States." Just as he was about to commence this history of education he was invited to go to Rhode Island, and there achieve a work which is destined to form one of the most interesting and instructive chapters in the history of education in America, when it shall be written. Reluctant to accept the invitation, as it would make it necessary to postpone the work in contemplation, Gov. Fenner met his objection with the reply, "Better make history than write it." He accepted the task, and soon organized a system of agencies which, in four years, brought about an entire revolution in the condition of the schools in the State. It is not easy to fully appreciate the difficulties and magnitude of the work undertaken in Rhode Island. From the foundation of the colony the common school had been excluded from the care and patronage of the government, and for more than a century and a half there is not the slightest trace of any legislation whatever for this great interest.

To compel a citizen to support a school or educate his children was regarded as a violation of the rights of conscience. Twenty years ago an old Rhode Islander, well to do in the world, assigned as a reason for refusing to aid in supporting a district school, "It is a Connecticut custom, and I don't like it."

The plan of operations adopted was substantially the same as that pursued in Connecticut. The first great work was to enlighten the popular mind on the subject of common schools, and create a public opinion in favor of right action. The next step was to frame and secure the enactment of an efficient school code, adapted to the wants of the State, which was accomplished in 1845. Then came the difficult task of organizing the new system and of carrying out its provisions; in a word, of bringing into existence in every school district the conditions of a good school. This process was progressing with a rapidity scarcely ever realized elsewhere, in the erection of better school-houses, in the employment of better teachers, in the establishment of school libraries, and in the increase of the means provided by law for the support of schools. But before accomplishing all his plans for the improvement of public education in Rhode Island the state of Mr. Barnard's health rendered it imperatively necessary for him to resign his office. On his retirement the Legislature, by a unanimous vote, adopted a resolution, giving him their thanks for the "able, faithful, and judicious manner" in which he had for five years fulfilled the duties of his office. The teachers of the State, through a committee appointed at the several institutes, presented him a handsome testimonial of their "respect and friendship, and of their appreciation of his services in the cause of education, and the interest which he had ever taken in their professional improvement and individual welfare."[6]

[6] Mr. Mann, in his Report to the Board of Education in Massachusetts,
in 1846, refers to this work as follows: "Within the last year the State
of Rhode Island has entirely renovated her school system. Under the
auspices of that distinguished and able friend of common schools, Henry
Barnard, she is preparing to take her place among the foremost of the
States." In 1856 he speaks of Mr. Barnard's work in Rhode Island "as the
greatest legacy he had left to American Educators; the best working
model of school agitation and legal organization for the schools of the
whole country which had yet been furnished."

Mr. Barnard returned to his old home in Connecticut. He was soon invited to professorships in two colleges, and to the superintendence of public schools in three different cities. But a more congenial work in his own State awaited his restored health. In 1849 an act was passed to establish a State Normal School, the principal of which should be the superintendent of common schools. Mr. Barnard was elected to this office, and accepted on condition that an assistant should be appointed to take the immediate charge of the Normal School. He soon had the satisfaction of seeing long-cherished hopes fulfilled. After many struggles and efforts he saw his own State taking her appropriate place among the foremost of the educating and educated States.

Our limited space will not allow even a glance at the particulars of his doings while in office from 1850 till he resigned, at the close of the year 1854, to give himself exclusively to labors of a more general and national character. He had already accomplished as much perhaps as any other individual for the promotion of education in every part of the country. By repeated visits to the chief points of influence, by extensive correspondence and numerous personal conferences with the leading persons connected with the management of systems and institutions of education, by addresses before popular assemblies, literary associations, teachers, and legislative bodies throughout the country, he had done more than any other man to shape the educational policy of the nation. His publications had been numerous, important, and widely disseminated. Besides the "Common School Journal" and reports above alluded to, his work on "School Architecture" had been circulated by tens of thousands, not only throughout America but in Europe, creating a general revolution in public opinion on the subject. His work on "Normal Schools" had been published several years, from which the substance of nearly all documents on the subject since published have been drawn. The volume entitled "National Education in Europe," begun in 1840, and containing about nine hundred closely printed pages, had been published in 1854, a work well described as an "Encyclopaedia of Educational Systems and Methods," and of which the "Westminster Review" speaks as "containing more valuable information and statistics than can be found in any one volume in the English language." But his contributions to educational literature did not stop here.

Scarcely did he find himself relieved from the routine of official life when he projected and immediately entered upon the publication of a still more valuable and important work, viz., the "American Journal of Education." Four large octavo volumes of this Journal are now before the public, and we may safely affirm of it that it is the most valuable and comprehensive educational publication ever printed in the English language, and it will be a lasting disgrace to the teachers and educators of America if it has to be prematurely suspended for want of sufficient patronage. Besides conducting this Journal, he has found time for other labors of a general nature. As president of the American Association for the Advancement of Education, his influence has been widely and beneficially exerted. That his services to the cause of good letters and education have been appreciated in high places may be inferred from the fact that in 1851 he received the honorary degree of Doctor of Law, from the corporation of Yale College, and in the same year from Union College, and in the year following from Harvard University.

* * * * *

[Mr. Barnard's subsequent labors and successes, including his services in connection with the United States Bureau of Education, will be the subject of another article, which will be accompanied by a portrait from a photograph recently taken.--ED.]

A DAUGHTER OF THE PURITANS.

BY ANNA B. BENSEL.

"Have you known sorrow?"
"No."
"Then this sketch is not for you."

In one of the loveliest towns in New England there stood, many years ago, a large, old-fashioned, rambling house, known to all the villagers as the old Vincent Manor. It was such an old place, full of strange, dark corners and winding halls; a place that would have been famous for a game of hide-and-seek; but there were no children to roam at will over the house, to laugh out of its dusky corners, or to set the high rafters a-ring with noise. It had stood there--the house--before and after the Revolution. It had been turned into a small garrison more than once. Its walls had heard anxious councils, as men of strong nerve and resolute will made their vows of independence. Stately dames and grand gentlemen, in powder and ball dress, in ruffles and periwigs, had paced its weird corridors, or danced the slow minuet in its great salon.

But now all was changed, and Mistress Marjory--as the neighbors called her--lived alone in the old manor, the last of all her kin. She was a tall, pale woman, bearing in her stately, gracious ways all the trace of her proud ancestry, living alone, yet living for others, helping the poor and the suffering, answering the call of sorrow everywhere it reached her, loving and beloved. And her story--The story I learned one day in the great drawing-room at Vincent Manor! Ah, well, after all, perhaps it will not interest you as much as it did me. All lives have their sorrows; does the telling of _one_ matter, after all?

But perhaps the charm and the pathos lay in the way Mistress Marjory told it, sitting in the shadows before the open wood fire, with her hands, so seldom idle, folded listlessly in her lap, and her beautiful gray eyes looking far into the past. What a pretty picture she was in her black silk dress, with its lace kerchief crossed on her bosom, with her hair, white as snow, drawn back high from her brow! I like to think of her as she looked that night so long ago.

And so it is that I think you may like the story best if I tell it to you in her own words, just as she told it to me. So here it is:--

"My child-life was one full of excitement, yet little pleasure. What with our struggles between hostile Indians and the soldiers of King George, we had small time for play or serenity of living. Yet perhaps we children enjoyed our play hours more than do those of the present time, for they were so few and far between,--those peaceful, happy days,--they were treasured all the more. Of the many strange events that happened in those far-off years I have no time to tell you now. My parents had seven children--there were six boys. I was the only daughter, and next to the youngest, who was my favorite brother, one year my junior, sunny, brave-hearted, and loyal in all things.

"While the men were at work in the fields, and women busy in the house, the children on different homesteads kept watch for Indians. My brothers, of course, took turns on our place; and sometimes in the harvest days, when many hands were needed out doors, and I was not helping my mother in spinning the flax, I was set on the lookout. Those were days when the stoutest heart among us would quail at times, for danger and horror were on every side; and I--well, I was none of the bravest. But on the days when Harold knew I would be most likely put on guard he would contrive so as to have his work near the house, and so watch over me. In order to do so he would rise before the rest, and going alone in his far corner of the field,--his only defence a faithful dog, and a trusty rifle over which the dog kept watch while his master worked,--he would finish his field labor for the day by the time I was ready for my task. It was a mutual understanding between himself and my father that this should be; and I think that while my parents feared for the boy's safety they were proud of his courage that dared so much for love.

"Well, we grew as children grow, through war and peace, through storm and calm. And when the first gun of independence was fired on Bunker Hill my father and brothers armed themselves and joined the numbers there. Two of my brothers were killed outright in their first encounter with Gage's men. In the third battle another was taken prisoner, and with four others tried for 'treason against the king,' and shot. My mother was a type of the bravest women of that period, but I thought she would have died then, for he was her eldest born, upon whom she had always looked with pride.

"I was eighteen then, and my heart and hands were full; but so were those of many another woman. In that time girls were _women_ and boys were _men_; it was needed so, you may be sure. Well, after a while the struggle was over, you know, and they came home,--father, Robert, George, and Hal. We were expecting them, and stood at the door watching,--mother and I. And then--and then--we saw them coming, not in triumph, as we expected, but slowly, a mournful little procession. We saw father, Robert, and George, and a few neighbors, and they were bearing a burden we could not see.