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Deutz-Fahr Combine Harvester 5650 5660 5680 5690(H HTS) Instruction
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great change is coming over the face of Cambridge society. The term
"the season" is beginning to have its proper significance, the winter
months being pretty well filled with the customary social
observances. It is true that the College is still the controlling element.
Festivities are mostly suspended during the first two months of the
year, which is the time of the winter vacation, and revive again with
the return of the spring and the students. But from faint symptoms
which may be detected by the anxious observer, there is reason to
fear that it may not be long before the great body of the students will
have cause on their part, to complain of that exclusiveness which
they have exercised as their prerogative for more than two centuries.
The four short years of Story's undergraduate existence were passed
free, alike from this species of social pleasure and social anxiety. He
was naturally fond of company, and had a healthy, youthful taste for
conviviality; but he shrank instinctively from excesses, and was,
fortunately, also ambitious to win a high rank for scholarship. His
companions were of his own age, and those divinities who people the
inner chambers of a young man's fancy at the age of nineteen, were
not upon the spot to distract overmuch his attention from his studies.
He left his home within the College walls before he had arrived at
manhood, and returned again some thirty years after in the maturity
of his powers, to repay to his foster mother the debt which he owed
for his education, by imparting to her younger children the results of
his experience. Cambridge is to be considered as his home; it was
there that he won his greatest fame, it was there that he fondly
turned to refresh himself after his labors on the full bench and the
circuit; this was the home of his affections and his interests, and
there his earnest and active life was brought to its calm and peaceful
close.
In Brattle-street, a little distance on the road from the Colleges to
Mount Auburn, there stands a narrow brick house, with its gable end
to the street, facing the east, and a long piazza on its southern side.
It is situated just at the head of Appian Way—not the Queen of Ways,
leading from Rome to Brundusium, over which Horace journeyed in
company with Virgil, and Paul's brethren came to meet him as far as
Appii Forum and The Three Taverns, but a short lane, boasting not
many more yards than its namesake miles; leading from Cambridge
Common to Brattle-street, journeyed over by hurrying students with
Horace and Virgil under their arms, without a single tavern in it, and
hardly long enough to accommodate three. The external appearance
of the house would hardly attract or reward the attention of the
passer by. It stands by itself, looking as much too high for its width
as an ordinary city residence in New-York, that has sprung up in
advance of the rest of its block. The street in which it stands is flat
and shady, but wonderfully dusty nevertheless, for Cambridge is a
town
"Where dust and mud the equal year divide."

The old inhabitants may be supposed to be reconciled to that dust, of

which they are made, and to which they naturally expect in a few
years to return. Thus Lowell finds it in his heart to sing the praises of
Cambridge soil,
"Dear native town! whose choking elms each year
With eddying dust before their time turn gray,
Pining for rain,—to me thy dust is dear;
It glorifies the eve of Summer day."

But, however native Cantabs may feel, the temporary resident hails
the friendly watering-cart, which appears at intervals in the streets,
since the old town has changed itself into a city.
A flower-garden on the south side, separates Judge Story's house
from the village blacksmith, who has had the rare happiness of being
celebrated in the verses of his two fellow-townsmen, the poets
Longfellow and Lowell;
"Under a spreading chestnut tree,
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
 With large and sinewy hands,
And the muscles of his brawny arm
Are strong as iron bands.

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

His face is like the tan,
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whatever he can,
And looks the whole world in the face
For he owes not any man.

"Week in, week out, from morn to night,

You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell
When the evening sun is low.

"And children coming home from school

Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor."

Among the children who thus looked in upon the old smith in former
days, was Lowell himself, who has embodied this juvenile
reminiscence in a few lines, which may be appropriately inserted
here, and the curious reader may contrast the image they contain,
with the parallel one in the concluding lines from Longfellow, quoted
above.
"How many times prouder than King on throne,
Loosed from the village school-dame's A's and B's,
Panting have I the creaky bellows blown,
And watched the pent volcano's red increase,
 Then paused to see the ponderous sledge brought
down
By that hard arm voluminous and brown,
From the white iron swarm its golden vanishing
bees."

The village blacksmith is dead now; the fires which he lighted in the
forge have gone out, and an unknown successor wields the sledge,
which may still be heard as ever, from the piazza of his neighbor's
house, and down the road on the other side, as far as the row of
lindens which overshadow a mansion once inhabited by the worthy
old Tory, Brattle, who has given his name to the street.
The external appearance of Judge Story's house does not add much
to the poetry of its surroundings. It runs back in an irregular way, a
long distance from the street, and at its furthermost end, in the
second story, is, or used to be, the library, commanding the same
view which constituted such a recommendation to Dick Swiveller's
house, namely, the opposite side of the way. There is not, therefore,
an opportunity for much romance to cluster about it, nor is its
attractiveness increased, when the reader is reminded that the story
beneath answered the purposes of a woodshed. But the house which
witnessed the daily labors of such a man, need not covet or pretend
to those outside attractions which it unquestionably lacks.
Judge Story removed to Cambridge, for the purpose of taking charge
of the Law-school connected with the University. This institution had
just received an endowment from Nathan Dane, which, together with
the labors and reputation of the new Professor, were the prime
causes of its establishment upon such a durable foundation, that the
number of its students was increased five fold. From this period, his
time was divided among Washington, during the sitting of the
Supreme Court, the first circuit in the New-England States, and
Cambridge, which henceforward was his home. The Law-school he
regarded as his favorite and most important field of labor, and always
recurred to his connection with it, with pleasure and pride; and a
word concerning this Institution may, with propriety, be coupled with
a description of his personal habits, so that both together will furnish,
better than any thing else, a correct picture of the daily life of the
man.
At the time that Story accepted the Dane Professorship in the Law-
school in Cambridge he had already achieved the labor of a lifetime.
A lucrative business at the bar, was quitted for a seat upon the bench
of the Supreme Court of the United States. He began his political life
as a democrat and stanch supporter of Jefferson, when there were
not many such in Massachusetts; but in later life he became a whig.
The natural effect of a judicial station upon a mind like his, was to
make him cautious and conservative; and he finally seemed a little
distrustful of even the party with which he was associated. In the
convention of 1820, which formed the existing constitution of
Massachusetts, he took an active part with such men as Webster,
Parker, Quincy and Prescott, and many of our important mercantile
statutes and bankrupt laws were drawn by him, nearly, or quite in the
form in which they were finally passed by Congress. He had been for
about eighteen years an associate Justice of the Supreme Court,
when, without resigning that position, he assumed the almost equally
onerous duties of a Professor of Law. This new field of activity was
entered upon with earnestness and zeal, and it is not necessary to
state the success with which his efforts were attended. Towards the
students his manner was familiar and affectionate. He was fond of
designating them as "my boys," and without assuming any
superiority, or exacting any formal respect, he participated so far as
he was able in their success and failure; and extended beyond the
narrow period of the school, far into active life, that interest in their
behalf which he had contracted as their teacher. His lectures upon
what are commonly considered the dry topics of the law, were
delivered with enthusiasm, and illustrated with copious anecdotes
from the store-house of his memory and his experience, and filled
with episodes which were suggested to his active mind at almost
every step. Indeed, if one were disposed to point out his prominent
fault as a legal writer, he would probably select that diffuseness of
style and copiousness of illustration, which, though it contributes
somewhat to fulness and perspicuity, does it nevertheless at the cost
of convenient brevity; which can more easily be dispensed with in a
poem than in a law-book. But that characteristic which might perhaps
be considered as a blemish in his legal treatises, only rendered him
better, qualified for a successful oral lecturer. A printed volume admits
of the last degree of condensation, because repeated perusals of one
page will effect every thing which could be expected from a
prolonged discussion over many; and to text-books of law, the
student or the practitioner resort principally for a statement of
results, with the addition of only so much general reasoning as may
render the results intelligible. In an oral lecture on the other hand, as
the attention cannot be arrested; or time taken to overcome
difficulties, repetition and reiteration, so far from being a blemish, is a
merit. To these qualifications Story added engaging manners, and a
personal presence, which gave him extraordinary influence over the
young men who crowded to receive the benefit of his instructions.
His zeal was contagious, and awakened similar feelings in his hearers,
and the enthusiasm of the speaker and the audience acted and
reacted upon each other. Many anecdotes are related to show the
interest in the study of the law, which, under his magical influence,
was awakened, not only among the few who are naturally studious,
but among the whole body of the students almost without exception.
Saturday is a day of rest in Cambridge by immemorial usage. To force
upon the undergraduates a recitation on Saturday afternoon, would
outrage their feelings to such an extent, as to justify in their opinion
a resort to the last appeal, namely, a rebellion. Yet under Story's
ministrations the law-students were eager to violate the sacredness
of Saturday, to which the Judge assented, animated by a zeal
superior to their own. So that the whole week was devoted to
lectures, and the conducting in moot courts of prepared cases. "I
have given," says the Judge in a letter to a friend, "nearly the whole
of last term, when not on judicial duty, two lectures every day, and
even broke in upon the sanctity of the dies non juridicus, Saturday. It
was carried by acclamation in the school; so that you see we are
alive." One of the pupils describes a similar incident; a case was to be
adjourned, and Saturday seemed the most convenient time, "the
counsel were anxious to argue it; but unwilling to resort to that
extreme measure. Judge Story said—Gentlemen, the only time we
can hear this case, is Saturday afternoon. This is dies non, and no
one is obliged or expected to attend. I am to hold Court in Boston
until two o'clock. I will ride directly out, take a hasty dinner, and be
here by half-past three o'clock, and hear the case, if you are willing.
He looked round the school for a reply. We felt ashamed, in our own
business in which we were alone interested, to be outdone in zeal
and labor by this aged and distinguished man, to whom the case was
but child's play, a tale twice told and who was himself pressed down
by almost incredible labors. The proposal was unanimously
accepted." The same interesting communication describes the scene
which took place when the Judge returned to Cambridge in the
winter from Washington. "The school was the first place he visited
after his own fireside. His return, always looked for, and known, filled
the library. His reception was that of a returned father. He shook all
by the hand, even the most obscure and indifferent; and an hour or
two was spent in the most exciting, instructive, and entertaining
descriptions and anecdotes of the events of the term. Inquiries were
put by the students from different States, as to leading counsel, or
interesting causes from their section of the country; and he told us as
one would have described to a company of squires and pages, a
tournament of monarchs and nobles on fields of cloth of gold:—how
Webster spoke in this case, Legaré or Clay, or Crittenden, General
Jones, Choate or Spencer, in that; with anecdotes of the cases and
points, and all the currents of the heady fight."
Judge Story's gracious and dignified demeanor upon the bench is too
well known, and not closely enough connected with an account of his
home life, to justify a description here. All who have spoken upon the
subject, have borne witness to the kindness and courtesy with which
he treated the bar, particularly the younger members, who most
need, and best appreciate such consideration. No lawyer was
provoked by captious remarks, or mortified by inattention or
indifference, or that offensive assumption of superiority which places
the counsel at such disadvantage with the judge, and lowers his
credit with his clients and the spectators. With novices at the bar his
manner was patient and encouraging, with the leaders whose
position was nearly level with his own, attentive, cordial, at times
even familiar, but always dignified. Among the prominent lawyers
upon the Maine circuit, was his classmate in college, and intimate
friend, Hon. Stephen Longfellow, the father of the poet, of whom the
following story is told. When any objection or qualification was
started by the Court, to a point which he was pressing upon its
attention, too courteous to question or oppose the opinion of the
Judge, he would escape under this formula, "But there is this
distinction, may it please your honor;" which distinction, when it
came to be stated, was often so exceedingly thin, that its existence
could be discerned only by the learned gentleman himself. This little
mannerism was known and observed among his friends in the
profession, one of whom now living composed and passed round the
bar this epitaph: "Here lies Stephen Longfellow, LL. D. Born &c. Died
&c. With this Distinction. That such a man can never die." This
epitaph reached the bench; and Mr. Longfellow himself, who not long
afterwards on an argument, was met by a question from the Judge.
"But, may it please your honor, there is this dis——" "Out with it,
brother Longfellow," said Judge Story with a good-humored smile.
But it would not come. The epitaph records the death of the
distinction.
The interest which Judge Story felt in the prosperity of his University,
was not wholly confined to the Law-school, with which he was
immediately connected. He was one of the overseers of the College,
and entered warmly and prominently into every question affecting
the welfare of the Institution; from an elaborate and recondite
argument upon the meaning of the word "Fellows," in the charter of
the college,—the doubt being, whether none but resident instructors
were eligible as Fellows, or whether the word is merely synonymous
with socius or associate,—down to a reform in the social observances
of the students upon the occasion of what is called Class Day. The old
custom had been for the students on the last day of their meeting,
before Commencement, to partake together of an undefined quantity
of punch from a large reservoir of that beverage previously prepared.
In more modern times, this habit came to be justly considered as
subversive of sobriety and good order, and it was proposed to recast
entirely the order of exercises. Of this reform Judge Story was an
advocate; he was present at the first celebration under the new order
of things, and was much gratified and elated at the change. Class
Day is now the culminating point of the student's life—the exercises
are an oration and poem in the morning, and a ball and reception in
the afternoon and evening. More ladies visit the College on that day,
than on any other, and the students have in lieu of their punch the
less intoxicating recreation of a polka.
Judge Story was about five feet eight inches tall, not above the
middle height, with a compact and solid figure; and active and rapid
in his movements. He seldom, if ever, loitered along; his customary
gait was hasty and hurried, and he had a habit of casting quick eager
glances about him as he moved. The expression of his face was
animated and changing, his eyes were blue, his mouth large, his
voice clear and flexible, and his laugh hearty and exhilarating. Late in
life he was bald upon the top of his head, and his white hair below,
and the benign expression of his countenance, gave him a dignified
and venerable appearance, particularly when seated upon the bench.
His personal habits were regular and systematic in the extreme. He
never rose before seven, and was always in bed by half-past ten. His
constitution required eight good hours of sleep, and he did not
hesitate to gratify it in that particular. It was never intended that all
men should rise at the same hour, and it is no great exercise of virtue
on the part of those who do not enjoy sleep, to get up early. After
breakfasting he read a newspaper for a half hour, and then worked
faithfully, till called off to attend the lecture room or the court. After
dinner he resumed his labors so long as daylight lasted, and the
evening was devoted until bedtime to light reading, or social
recreation in the midst of his family. He could pass easily from one
species of employment to another without loss of time, and by
working steadily when he did work, he was enabled to go through a
very great amount of labor without any excessive fatigue or
exhaustion. In this way his life was prolonged, and he retained to the
last, undisturbed possession of all his faculties. He died in September
1845, at the age of sixty-six, having been for thirty-four years a
Judge of the Supreme Court of the United States, and for sixteen
years a Professor of law in the school at Cambridge.
Wheaton.
Wheaton's Residence Near Copenhagen.
 WHEATON.
Among the persons whom religious persecution compelled to leave
England during the reign of Charles I., and seek an asylum in the
new world, was Robert Wheaton, a Baptist clergyman. He first
established himself in Salem, but when the intolerance of that
community led those of his persuasion to remove elsewhere, he
joined Roger Williams, and assisted him in founding the now
flourishing State of Rhode Island.
From him Henry Wheaton was descended. He was born in
Providence, 1786, and entered Rhode Island College at the age of
thirteen. He was already remarkable for his love of reading,
particularly in the branches of history and literature, and appears to
have studied more from the pleasure he had in the acquisition of
knowledge, than from any love of distinction. He graduated at the
age of seventeen, and immediately after entered upon the study of
the law, in compliance with his father's wishes rather than from
personal inclination; for at that period he is said not to have
entertained any particular leaning towards the legal profession. In
1806 he went abroad to complete his education. He passed some
time at Poitiers, where he learned to speak and write French fluently,
and had an opportunity of studying French law, and especially the
Code Napoleon, which had then but recently been promulgated. He
also attended the courts of justice, and heard some of the most
distinguished lawyers of the time, of whose eloquence he often
spoke in his letters to his family. He always recurred with pleasure in
later years to the time he passed at Poitiers. The kindness he
experienced from the family in which he lived, the graceful
politeness and cheerfulness of the French character, gave him ever
after a predilection in favor of France. After spending a few weeks in
Paris, he went to England, where he applied himself to the study of
English law. He was often at the house of Mr. Monroe, then our
Minister in London, who seems to have taken some pains to
converse with him on the political and social state of Europe.
Perhaps these conversations contributed to form his taste for
diplomatic life, in which he was destined to play so distinguished a
part, and also to lead him in its course to show that willingness to
impart information of a similar kind, to the young men by whom he
was himself surrounded, which was so pleasing a trait in his
character.
Soon after his return from Europe he was admitted to the bar in his
native State, where he continued to practise till 1813. At that period,
feeling the want of a wider field in which to exercise his talents, he
determined, having previously married his cousin, the daughter of
Dr. Wheaton of Providence, to remove to New-York with his wife. We
must not omit to mention, that before leaving Providence he
pronounced a Fourth of July Oration, in which he spoke with
generous indignation of the bloody wars which then distracted
Europe, and the disastrous consequences of which his residence in
France had given him an opportunity to observe. But although thus
warmly opposed to wars of conquest, there were cases in which he
deemed resistance a sacred duty; he therefore zealously devoted his
pen to encouraging his fellow-countrymen in resisting the unjust
encroachments of England. During two years he edited the National
Advocate, and the spirit as well as the fairness with which its leading
articles were written, insured the success of the paper, and
established his reputation in New-York. At the same time he held the
office of Justice of the Marine Court, and for a few months that also
of Army Judge Advocate. In 1815 he returned to the practice of his
profession, and published in the same year a Treatise on the Law of
Maritime Captures and Prizes, which Mr. Reddie of Edinburgh has
since pronounced to have been the best work then published on the
subject; no small praise, if we consider that Mr. Wheaton was only
thirty years of age at the time it was written. In 1816 he was named
Reporter of the Supreme Court at Washington, and continued to
hold this place until 1827. The Reports, of which he published a
volume yearly, and which were highly esteemed by American
lawyers, were abridged without his consent soon after he went
abroad. The publication of this abridgment occasioned a lawsuit,
which ended only with his life. The following letter, for which we are
indebted to the kindness of Professor Parsons, of the Law-school in
Cambridge, will, we think, be read with interest. We must only
remark, that it is an error to suppose that Mr. Wheaton shunned
general society after he went to Europe; he joined in it, on the
contrary, more than is usual to men of his age in our country.
Cambridge, May 22, 1853.
"I am very glad to offer even a slight contribution to this memorial,
of one so worthy of all respect as the late Mr. Wheaton. And you
must permit me to express the hope that the sketch you now
propose to make, will hereafter be expanded into that history of his
life and exhibition of his character, which should be given to the
world, in justice to him and to the very many to whom it would be
most acceptable. I can speak of him from personal acquaintance,
only after a long interval, when even recollections so pleasant as
those of my intercourse with him have become somewhat dim.
"It was at the very close of the year 1821, that I went to
Washington, to pass some months there. The commissioners to
distribute the money due to American citizens under the then recent
treaty with Spain, began their sessions that winter. Mr. Webster was
employed by most of the large claimants in New England, and I
went with him to assist him generally, and also charged by some of
those claimants with the especial care of their interests. In New-York
I became acquainted with Mr. Wheaton; and he was with us during a
part of the journey to Washington. As fellow-travellers, we became
intimate, and during the whole of my stay in Washington,—nearly
three months,—this intimacy was kept up. From many parts of the
country, eminent lawyers were at Washington, in attendance upon
the Supreme Court, or charged with the care of cases before the
commissioners under the Spanish treaty, and I was meeting them
continually in society; and I had the good fortune also to, become
acquainted with many of the most distinguished members of
government and of Congress, and visited freely in the whole range—
then less broad than now—of society in Washington.
"Wherever I went I met Mr. Wheaton. Every where he was upon the
footing, not of a received, but of a welcomed guest; and he seemed
to be most intimate in the best houses. It was easy to see the cause
of this. His important position as Reporter of the decisions of the
Supreme Court of the United States—which office he had then held
for six years—brought him into immediate contact not only with the
judges of the court, but with all who practised in it; and it might be
supposed that with them he would be on terms of intimacy and
friendship. But there was something in the character of that
friendship, that no mere position explained; and he inspired an
equally warm regard in many who never met him in his official
duties. Among all his friends, if I were to name any persons, I think
it would be Mr. Webster himself, who treated him as he might a
brother; Sir Stratford Canning, Minister from England, and M. de
Neuville, the French Minister, who appeared to give tone and
character to Washington society so far as any persons can influence
elements so diversified and refractory, and in whose houses he stood
on the footing of a confidential friend; Mr Lowndes of South
Carolina, a most wise and excellent man; and lastly and most of all,
Chief Justice Marshall. Let me pause a moment to say one word of
this great and good man, to whose greatness and whose goodness,
equally, this country is, and while its prosperity endures, will be
indebted; for his greatness rested upon his goodness as its
foundation. Even his wide and accurate learning, his clear and close
reasoning, his profound insight into the true merits and exact
character and bearing of every question, and the unerring sagacity
which enabled him to see the future in the present; all these
together, and whatever more there might have been of merely
intellectual power, would not have enabled him to lay the
foundations of our national and constitutional jurisprudence with the
depth, breadth, and firmness, which all attacks upon them have, as
yet, only made more apparent, if it had not been for his moral
character. Here lay the inmost secret of his power. Men felt, and the
nation felt, his incorruptibility; meaning by this, not merely the
absence of that baser and more obvious selfishness, which most
men of decent self-respect overcome or suppress; but his perfect
and manifest freedom from all motives and all influences whatever,
which could tend to cloud or warp his understanding, or qualify the
utterance of his wisdom. He did not stand before us a man of living
ice, perfectly safe because perfectly cold; for he was affectionate
and gentle as a child; excitable even to enthusiasm, when that kind
heart was touched; listening, not only with an equal strength to the
strongest, but with a perfect sympathy to the eloquent, and with a
charming courtesy to all. There he stood, and no one ever saw him
and heard him, and did not know that his one wish was to do his
great duty; and that his admirable intellect came to its daily tasks,
and did them, wholly free from all possible distortion or disturbance,
not because he was strong enough to repel all the influences of
party, or passion, or prejudice, or interest, or personal favor, but
because none of these things could come near enough to him to be
repelled. By the happy constitution of his nature, there was no flaw
in him to give entrance to any thing which, could draw him one
hair's breadth aside from the straight course of truth and justice,
and of the law, which in his mind was but their embodiment and
voice. Of this good and great man there is as yet no adequate
memorial; and it would require a strong hand, and if not an equal, at
least a sympathizing mind and heart, to construct one which shall
indeed be adequate. But I indulge the hope that it will be given to us
before the generation which knew him shall pass wholly away. And
you, I am sure, will pardon me for using this opportunity to render
to his cherished memory this slight and evanescent tribute. I do but
indulge myself in saying a part of what I have frequent occasion to
say to the many students to whom it is my official duty to teach the
law of their country as well as I can, and therefore to speak often of
Marshall.
"The Chief Justice treated Mr. Wheaton with the fondest regard, and
this example would have had its influence had it been necessary; but
in fact the best men then in Washington were on the most intimate
and confidential terms with him. The simple truth is, that universal
respect was rendered to him because he deserved it. He was a
gentleman: and therefore the same gentleman to all and under all
circumstances; yes, he was indeed and emphatically a gentleman,
and combined—with no base admixture—all the elements which go
to compose what we mean, or should mean, by that word, as
thoroughly as any one that I have ever known.
"I did not meet him after leaving Washington until a short time
before his death, and then not often. I saw very little change in his
manner, for he appeared to be as glad as I was to revive the
pleasant recollections of that distant winter. But I have been told
that after he went abroad, he was considered somewhat silent, and
even disposed to avoid rather than seek general society. I cannot say
how this was during those later years; but when I knew him in
Washington, no one more enjoyed society, and few sought it more,
or were more sought by it. He was,—not perhaps gay,—but
eminently cheerful; and his manner was characterized by that
forgetfulness of self, which, as in great things, it forms the
foundation for the highest excellence, so in the lesser matters of
social intercourse it imparts a perpetual charm, and constitutes
almost of itself, the essence of all true politeness.
There was with Mr. Wheaton, no watching of opportunity for display;
no indifference and want of interest when the topics of conversation,
or the parties, or other circumstances, made it impossible for him to
occupy the foreground; no skilful diversion of the conversation into
paths which led to his strongholds, where he might come forth with
peculiar advantage. Still less did he—as in this country so many do—
play out in society the game of life, by using it only as a means of
promoting his personal or professional objects. Certainly, one may
sometimes help himself importantly in this way. Very useful
acquaintances may thus be made and cultivated, who might be
rather shy if directly approached. Facts may be learned, and
opportunities for advancement early discovered, or effectually laid
hold of, by one who circulates widely in a society like that in
Washington, or indeed any where. Nor perhaps should it be a
ground of reproach to any one, that in a reasonable way and to a
reasonable extent, he seeks and cultivates society for this purpose.
But, whatever may be the moral aspect of this matter, or whatever
the degree in which conduct of this kind is or is not justifiable, there
was in Mr. Wheaton's demeanor nothing of this; nothing of it in
appearance, because nothing of it in fact; for one who is mainly, or
in any considerable degree governed by a purpose of this kind, must
be cunning indeed, to hide it effectually; and cunning of any sort,
was a quality of which he had none whatever. Every body felt and
knew this: and therefore every body met him with a sense of
confidence and repose, which of itself would go far in making any
person more acceptable as a friend or as a mere companion, in a
society of which the very surface constantly exhibited the many
whirling under currents of Washington life. In one word, there was in
him nothing of trick; but that constant and perfect suavity which is
the spontaneous expression of universal kindness; and an excellent
understanding, well and widely cultivated, and always ready to bring
forth all its resources, not to help himself, but to help or gratify
others, and all others with whom he came into contact, and all this,
with no appearance of purpose or design of any kind; for it was but
the natural outpouring of mind and heart, of one who was open to
the widest sympathy, and whose interest in all persons and things
about him was most real and honest, because he loved nothing so
well as to do all the good he could, by word or deed, or little or
much, to one, or few, or many. He was therefore most popular in
society. But when we speak of Mr. Wheaton's social popularity, we
must be careful to use this word in a higher than its common sense;
and if I have made myself at all intelligible, I think you will
understand both the cause and the character of that popularity.
"And more than this I cannot say. Time has effaced from my
memory details and especial circumstances; nor can I therefore, by
their help, illustrate this slight sketch of Mr. Wheaton's character and
position, during those pleasant months which he helped so much to
make pleasant. Of these particulars, my recollection is dim enough.
But no lapse of time will efface from my mind the clear and distinct
recollection of the high excellence of his character, or the charms of
his conversation and manners; nor shall I ever lose any portion of
the affection and respect with which I regard his memory.
"I am, very sincerely,
"Your friend and obedient servant,
"Theophilus Parsons."
Cambridge, May 23, 1853.
In 1821, Mr. Wheaton was elected a member of theConvention for
revising the Constitution of the State of New-York, which having
been formed amid the tumults and perils of war, seemed defective
and insufficient to the wants of a richer, more enlightened, and more
numerous society. In his sittings he turned his attention more
particularly to the organization of the tribunals. In 1824, he was
appointed by the New-York Legislature a member of the commission
appointed to draw up the civil and criminal code of the State, a work
in which he continued to be engaged until 1827. It has been
remarked that this was the first effort made by any State possessing
the common law, to reduce its disconnected and diffusive legislation
to the unity of a code; so that his name is thus connected with one
of the most important landmarks in the history of American law.
It may easily be imagined, that a person of so serious and
thoughtful a disposition could not have failed at some period of his
life, to turn his attention to the important subject of religion. While
in college, and during the ensuing years, he had studied deeply the
works of the great English theologians, and when the Unitarian
Church was established in New-York, he united himself with it.
His other occupations did not prevent him from entering into literary
pursuits. In 1820 he pronounced a discourse before the Historical
Society of New-York, and in 1824, one at the opening of the New-
York Athenæum, both of which are considered to have unusual