I

MEMOIR
OF

I.

I

ROBERT TROUP PAINE.
DY

HIS PARENTS.

make thee

PRIV.A.TE DISTRIBUTION, ESPECI.A.LLY FOR THE .
· CLASSMA.TES OF THE YOUTH.

-NEW-YORK : JOHN F. TROW, PRINTER, 49 Al'fN-STREET.

1852.

J

~y ·,,· · ·

~-

'

I
\

\

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\

"/ - .. - ..

/,, .. , ,,, ·;;· ,, .. ·.- .,-.

Cd

' 'eiia

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'"" ):e~~~ru~ . '""'.::~~'" ··.
1t:lzi-'riir"je ' '~b~~ct,~l'al~·
.1- u~..-·...:•,., . 'i1ti~-· '"~ 1'
- ....,~
.., ...in"ihw'en
.. , ·'*~,'.lir
~Ml),~•.. _.- ~..

r------

- - - - - - - - . . . - ;·~e~~ ~~ ;,,~rc'!l·-~re ·4~'VI?•"\')~ ~t'!'W Pl'~Pei;~ ,

.ft'fi abOul fifteen lacbel lq!lare, . alld · Its oovera ·

f~~~~~~~~i~i!~~~f~!~~~.!~·,.

f; "'blch : are~

" Abraham· aboa' to BaorUlce .
"Tile Cruc~fou;" -~'.Jahn the l!•Pt.ist ;
~~ Pieachl11g ·1n t.h e Wilderness,""~- .wltb the ,
\ Tabin of the L"""•" "Aaron and his Btitldlllg -,
1 Rod,"-" Jacob's Dream," "'Si." Panl Preacbiag at
11
'! Athe1>s,
"B&meon R<lndh:ia the· Lion," "Simeon:
with the Child Jee1n," and ' Tile All06n!lou." An
index rerum, referring to the contents of the
. will, takea up ·the tlreD tour p!lges of the doon·
i men., which la all In the testotor'e o""n writing.
• 'l'he. Instrument ls divided Into llve articles,
which are subdivided Into numerous sections and ·
paragraphs, in many of wbfoh are marglnsl
references
co noteo qualifying the wording of the
1

1:&Sao."

· CeXL

·

-

Profe!Bor P &lne dlrecta that he ~ball be burled
, In the famlly vault, in Mount Auburn Cemetery,
Cambridge, MW!r,, and that 11 monument wltb
the following lDscrlptlon allafl be ere(l=ed to .bis
· memory:
· ·
' 01hitJn Paille, M D'•. LL.D •• ProfeeM>r of the Inst(
: tutea or .Med1cme and lll~terla MedlC$ and of Therapeutics In the Jl[F.dtcal Dep!lrtment Of the Unlvereuy or
tbe City or New York, from the year IBU .t o the year
PRAYER.
; author or nllDlerous elabo 'ate worli:s npan mediR
cine,
and of works npon the soul. end ln defence or the
L ETTER TO THE E JIIOfatc
narrauv,e or Creation and the Flood. Born July th h" l t
THESIS.-" w e ha 8, 179!. Died - ."
. ..I
e 1g ies
Be directs that hie estate, with the exception iich is to folpleasure that · of 11 few legscleP, be Invested In llr11Hlla1s baull1
111 soon aa poseible· for the benellD · of Harvard .
low." .
College, and that when the Income am9unta to
THESIS.-" Differen1 18,000 a :rear $4.800 or It Is to be expended. tor

I

PAGE

16
21

29
34

FORENSIC.-" Is thi ;~:::~~~::r:~;!;~:1:g~~a;:::~.~~mc'l!~~!~~ ;lation of the
.
, the ooller: a 1cholsl'llbfp to be wlthdra\'f'n from
37
Scnptures for .any _benellolai'y gntlty of Idleness, Immorality, •
;,
72
THESIS - " A Pictu\I profan~ty or Ollher vtotolll! bablta, or ot violation ;ranger.
·
, or the college rolee: the scholarablpa to be ti:no wn
16 5
THESIS.- " The ins11 111 the "Robert Troup .Pafoe Boholarsbfpr," and : •
·
•
"
h to be distinct from au other&. Of the re- '.le~"
109
FoRENSIC.- Is t ! mahlder ot thA •s,ooo tnoome 11.500 la to ; ·
·
THESIS "Which ]I be lnveeted un\U, 110 c0mpound lotereaa, Jn's Character,
.the amount ahall be 15.000, whlab aum ls Do be •
7
Circumstances glven, a1 often as 0 accumulatee, ilo tbe aubl1or ' •
•
· 1 4

'I

FORENSIC.-" I

· R li ·

ass~ ~bJ~~~': ~~e:f!:i ~~r ~~~~etf•~o~in'~~~00~~~~ ; of
nJ named, and to

be follo"ed by eiher sabjeclill

.

my Party
.
. 179

m e g1on a given by the faculty: •• Reltgloua Condtttoe ot
.
THESIS-" The~
- n the Nat10111 or the Esrth," "OommarcP,.'' "T.be and the mild,
Bhtory, Progree111ud Ueefutneea of Medlolne,"
· .
,
allunng virtu "Oo111Utntlon or Civil Society," •• Iaorg"ule ·
"
Cbemlatry,"" Materla Medlcaaod Taerapeactet,"
•
.
THESIS.A Mee "A&rtculwre," "PollH0111l Eaouomy," " llolllllll
. ,,
THESIS-" Self-'
Phyefolo9y," "Natural Pb.lloeophy, 11 "Relation Remedies. .
0
THESIS:-" An Ear ~~~8.!°'v1~c;80: t:!ea~'::.~':!
"A ~~~()- ~ture Relations
of this Country to otfiera:"• ~_..
~
· · t .I

t;:;::;

188

192
203
206

THESIS.-" An American Novel written now upon a supposed state of things in
the year 1900."
_219
FORENSIC.-" Whether the conduct of the Patriots who destroyed the tea in
Boston Harbor, in 1773, is to be condemned."
. 224
FORENSIC.-" Whether Republican Institutions are favorable to the cultivation of

231

the Fine Arts."

•

:~' ·,: . :~~··
~...-- ..r ;·-l.,' ~t~·

.
CONTENTS.

,.

" ROBERT'S

COMPOSITIONS.
PAGE

PRAYER.

•

16
21

-

'i.Eni:R · TO~ THE REV. DR. STU.ART.

. . T~~·:__" We have reached that stage of our progress in which the highest
_ . ~ pleasure that this life 'can afford is the anticipation of that which is to fol-

:· •.•~ low." • ·. · .

·

·

29
·
.
.
.
.
.
.
;~FoBEN~o..:._"ls. th~e ·more to be gained or lost by a new Translation of the
k '!lo~ "':.
: •
- 1'
. ' .
•
•
37
· · · . ·,.,,.Scriptures
xor
common
use
1"
•
•
.
.
•
.
.
• '
..
..
""
•
72
··.:fuism·-::-"A Picturesque Country in the Eye of a Native and a Stranger."
165
•1·-·;_p,...,,
./liiim.-:-"
The 'inseparable 'Eziemies o( Greatness."
.
.
.
.
-..c -ti?""
160
SFouNsxc.-" Is there less danger in believing too much, or too little 1"
, ·: Tm:8Js._.'..."Whlch has the greatest Influence in the Formation of Man's Character,
. ,. '· . '·Cir.cumstan:ces,
. · . Orgamzation,
. . or F ree-m·u~"
.
.
..
.
.
.
. 174
·, j'ouNsic._:_" I associate with no one, I e~ploy no one, who is not of my P arty
·· i ·" in Religion and Politics."
.· .
.
.
.
.
.
.
. 17 D
THEsui.:...." The 'influence over others of austere, forbidding virtue, and the mild,
188
, :.., 'alluriDg virtnes in Public Teachers of Religion."
192
.;, 'Tlmsis;.:_" A "Me~ting between Luther and Fenelon."
I, Tmsxs..:_" Self'-infilcted. Bodily Torments, as Moral Preventives or Remedies."
203
. ,:-~xs.-" ~ Early~t to New England anticipating the Future Relations
' (;,( this co;iutry"fu. oth~rs." . . .
•
.
.
.
.
.
. 206
. ':!'~-"An American Novel written now upon a supposed state of things in
219
• • the year 1900." •
FORENSIC.-" Whether the conduct of the P atriots who destroyed the tea in
1
224
" • :&ston Harbor, in. 1773, is to be condemned."
FoIQ:NSic.-" Whether Republican Institutions are favorable to the cultivation of
··
the Fine Arts."
. 231
~·TBESis.-" Different Lives of Men and Bees."

J.~'

'! ,!!

'7

•

VI
PAGE

T1rnsis.- " He could not bear an equal." .
235
FORENSIC.-" vVas the act of Brutus in killing Cresar justifiable?,,
230
T1rnsrs.-" The Civil vVar was near, and both Cresar and Pompey paid great
court to Cicero, each reckoning upon him as a determined friend."-" The
difficulties of a Statesman who wishes to stand well with all." .
245
FoRENSic.-" In selecting Studies for the Junior and Senior years, is it wise to
drop Latin and Greek in order to attend to the Modern Languages ? ''
24 8
FORENSIC.-" ·were the Hom er~c Poems the production of a single Mind?"
250
Timsis.-" The Nile." .
2G8
FonENSic. -" ·whether the interests of Truth and Virtue would be promoted by
so far restricting the Freedom of the Press as to prevent Anonymous Publications?"
271
FonENSic.-" Should the Free States, in delivering up Fugitive Slaves, secure to
them the Right of the Writ of Habeas Corpus and Trial by Jury ?" .
270
TnEsrs.- " Men of the \ Vorld, who have their portion in this life."- " The Psalm201
ist's idea of a Man of the ·world and ours."
Tirnsis.-" The discovery of a Gold-rninc."
20 5
TnEsis.-" Is the desire of Property an Instinctive Principle?"
208
Tirns1s.-" A Ci,1ilized Nation without free access to Book5-probable method of
supplying them."
302
Timsrs.-" Ile who decides for himself in rejecting what almost all others receive."
305
THESIS.-" Although he was almost always lowest in all his Classes, his Companions and his Masters looked upon him, by common consent, as first."
.' 307
TIIESIS.-" \Yas Mary accessory to the death of Darnley ?"
31 O
T1rnsis.-" Shakspeare's Miranda."
313
THESIS.-" The Origin of oru· Friendships."
31G
T1rnsis.-" Cicero, in a letter to Trebatius, then with the army in Gaul, laughs at
him for his childish hankering after the City."
31!)
TnEsrs.-" The Advantages of Travelling."
321

/1

The foregoing were written at Harrnrd University during the Junior and Senior
years. The following at the Grnrnmar School of Columbia College, from 1843 to

"
·'

1847.

THEME.-" Home."
Night."
THEME.-" Night."- Continued.
THEME.- " Christmas H olidays."
TnE~rn.-"

335
340
344
347

Vll

PAG E

TnEME.-" Plensmes of Ch ristmas and N cw-Year."
TnEME.-" The things that belong to others please us more, and those which are
ours are more pleasing to others." .
TnEME.-" \Vhat most 're 1vish with case we fancy near."
TnE)IE.-" Procrastination." .
THE)IE.-" Capital Punishment."
THEME.-" The Evils of \Var."
THEME.-" Crusades."
THEME.- " Life of Horace."
THEME.- " History."
THEME. -" Evacuation Day."
THEME.-" The Relative Influence of Men and Women."
THEME.-" \Vhich produce the more Beneficial Influences on Mankind, Classics,
or Mathematics ? "
THEME.-" Friendship."
THEME. -" The duty of Children to Parents."
THEME.- " Good Education."
THE~m.-" Fear."
THEi.m.-" \Vhich makes the greater Man, Genius or Application?"
THEME.-" Thanksgiving."
T1-1EME.-" Early Rising."
THEME.-" Which is more useful, Agriculture, or Manufactures and Commerce?"
THEME.-" Ships and Ship-building."
TnEME.-" The Comparative Advantages and Disadvantages of Civilized and
Savage Life."
TIIEME.-" A Country or City."
THEME.-" Is the Hope of Reward, or the Fear of Punishment, the g reater Incentive to Exertion ? "
THEME.-"Justice." .

3 72
3 73
380
3SG

387
3D3
3D8
40 1
40G
410
412

415
418
420
421
424
425
427
428

430
432

433
43G

4 38
504

LETTERS TO THE PARENTS RELATIVE TO THEIR SON, AND OTHER
MEMORIALS.

From Mrs. M. J. Clarke.
" Miss Parker.
" Ml'S. R. C. Clarke.
" Mr. Green.
" President Sparks.

7G
7D
81
82
Dl, D3

Vlll
PAG E

From Mr. Frothingham.
95
" l\fr. Goodwin.
101
" Mr. Felton.
104
104
" Mrs. Dunn.
11 0
" l\fr. Robinson .
1 22
" l\fr. Pierce.
124, 12G
" l\fr. Browne.
129
" Mrs. Batchelder.
1 30
" Mrs. G. Paine.
132
" Mr. Batch elder.
Miss
Batchelder.
134
"
Mr.
Babcock.
130
"
142
" Mr. Schrreder.
140
" Mrs. S. Paine.
Resolutions and Letter from the Senior Class.
105
from th e Rumford Society.
"
11 3
Letter from the S. G. I. Club. .
11 5
ll G
" f1:om Robert's F ellow-Boarders.
Ode by Mr. Robinson on Class Day. .
120
Ode by l\fiss Batch elder.
13G
Resolutions by Hobert's Classmates at the Grammar School of Columbia College. 14 5
R ev. Dr. Antho11's Obituary Notice.
60
RonERT's LETTEns TO m s PARENTS.
54-G4, 6G, 154-1 59, 443, 444-450, 4GO,
4G3-4G 7
Robert's Letter to Mr. Browne.
127
A- - W . S- - to Robert.
450
Trm PARENTS TO THEIR SoN.
10, G7, 442, 451, 453, 512, 515
"
to Mr. Green.
BG
to
President
Sparks.
94
"
to th e Seni or Class.
l OG
"
Correspondence of the Parents.
453, 4G7, 518
Extract from Dr. Badeley's Lumleian Lectures.
151
456- 502
A D escriptiYe Allegory.
SuPPLEMEKT.
503
PosTsCnr PT.-()bitnary Notice of Robert's Mother.
507- 510

!
l
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MEMOIR, ETC.

As the life of a Youth, which has been spent in the training of education, rarely affords any materials for history, so
there can be no motive for obtruding it upon the world, unless
there be something unusual attending his character, and perhaps some striking event through which it may attract attention
and convey some moral instruction to mankind.

There may

be, also, something in his life and in the manner of his death of
an inharmonious nature, which shall have made him the subject
of public remark, that may call for, or justify, a memoir like

the present.
Although this combination of circumstances exists in the
case before us, the individual has been too secluded from the
world, and too unknown till his death, to engage the interest
of any excepting his immediate friends, and that part of the
community who find their greatest happiness in the cultiva-

2

tion of morality and religion.

This Memoir, therefore, is not

designed for the Public, in its proper acceptation ; but for private distribution, especially among the friends of the deceased.
This limitation will admit, also, of many things which might
not be acceptable to the indifferent, or bear the criticism of
those who read for any other than the intended purpose.
Nor is it often that Parents are biographers, nor can it be
often proper that they should commemorate their children.

If

worthy of more than a transient remembrance, there are others
who would scarcely fail to perform the office, and in a more
acceptable manner, because, in all probability, more impartially.
But it seems to the Authors of this Memoir, from what has been
already said, that no farther apology can be necessary in the
instance before us ; and it is their design, also, to permit the
Subject of the Memoir to delineate his own character as seen in
his writings, and to rest his habits and practical virtues upon

Martyn and Mary Ann Paine, and was born on the 10th day
of August, 1829:::·

A brief narrative of his physical condition

-

during his infancy and early childhood will reflect some light
upon his moral condition, his subsequent life, ancl the manner
of his death. The closing scene, -when contrasted with his
education, opinions, habits, disposition, and prospects, imparts
'' His Christian name " ·as derived from an early friend of his parents, Col. Robert
Troup, whose distinguished military, ci,il, and Ch1istian life is enshrined in history.

.,
'

3

to the subject an interest which may compensate the reader,
whether it be regarded as a moral problem, or as a source of
moral improvement.

To accomplish these intentions, there

must be a good deal of circumstantial detail, which would
otherwise possess but little interest.

This may be said, also, of

many of his colgpositions, which are connected with the Memoir
to show the constitution of his mind and the puritv of his
thou hts.
Robert was consigned to the care of a nurse, on account of
the infirmity of his Mother's health, till the age of fourteen
months; when, being in Vermont, and from unavoidable circumstances, he was deprived of his nurse, at an unfavorable
season of the year, for the space of a month. He then returned
to New-York, and fell at once into a disease of the digestive
organs, which continued for many years, rendering him helpless,
and dela in his education till he was far advanced into the a e
of childhood.

Means were taken, immediately, to restore to

him his natural diet ; but during the short interval he had lost
the art of nursing, and the breast-pump was employed to procure his nourishment till he attained the age of two years and
eight months. During this time he exhausted several nurses,
and was also daily provided by many kind friends, who took a
lively interest in his preservation.

A public record of his case

was briefly made by his Father, to illustrate a principle in medicine ; and as it is sufficient for the purpose now contemplated,
it may be introduced here.

4

After referring to the foregoing method of sustaining him,
the r ecord goes on: - "For fiv e years afterwards, he subsist ed
upon arrow-root made with wat er, during which time he consumed some hundreds of pounds. F rom having been the constant subj ect of very dangerous disease, and existing in the state
of a skeleton , h e emerged from that condition, and became
r obust and fleshy whilst living upon the arrow-root. H e is now
t en years of age, very stout, eats a variet y of vegetables, bet
has had no animal food."·:{·
From a memorandum made by his Mother at the time, it
appears that his teeth , after his fourteenth month, had made no
farther progress at the age of three years ; "nor could h e then
stand alone.

H e walked across the floor, for the first time, at

the age of four years and twel ve days ; but it was long after
befor e h e could move about with firmness and confidence."
But, although his general growth was very slowly progressive till after his seventh year, and although h e was for a long
time in a state of great emaciation, the development of his
brain ·was unusually rapid, and his head exceeded the orclinary
dimensions.

At the age of about se\'en (Jul y 24th, 183G), bis

stature was three feet t wo aml a half inches, ancl the circumference of his bead around the occiput and forehead was twenty
inches.

A t bis t wentieth year h e had reach ed the h eight of

fi ve feet eight and a half inches, was stout and ca1)able of great
endurance.
~'

At the age of t wo years his Mother recorded of
Medical and P hysiologica l Commentaries, ml. 1, page 693 .

I
I

'

5

him, - " His appearance was more that of a skeleton with the
skin drawn over it, wherein every bone, muscle, and sinew
might be distinctly told, than that of a living object.

His

countenance was cadaverous in the extreme, exhibiting the ashy
hue and repose of death.

As to his mind, I can compare it

more appropriately to the fire-fly than to any thing else; generally remaining in a state of inactivity and darkness, but at
times sending forth brilliant scintillations, which gave evidence
to me of a gem of no common value, and that, should the child
ever regain his health, he would at some future period amply
repay the solicitude and care with which his life has been preserved."

But this was a brief period, compared with the subse-

quent five years of unintermitting anxiety for his life, and of
cares which none but a parent can imagine.
To illustrate, as far as may be, the physical condition of the
brain, it may be said that his Father, for another purpose, had
spoken formerly of an inflammation with which that organ was
affected, and to which reference is made in the letter addressed
to the Senior Class of Harvard University. He was then nine
instead of twelve years of age, as erroneously stated in the
letter. The following is the record of the case :
"The most remarkable example (of blood-letting, under my
own observation) has occurred in the case of my only child;
whose general history of health is stated in the Commentaries
for another purpose.
" Not long after his very protracted disease had given way,

and being at the age of ·nine years, he was suddenly and
violently attacked with well-marked inflammation of the brain,
lungs, and small intestines.

I raised him to an erect posture,

and bled him very largely. The symptoms gave way; but, in
six hours afterward, those of the brain, and, in an inferior
degree, of the lungs and intestines, had reappeared.

I then

bled him again, in the same posture, and to the extent of
syncope.

Before exhibiting any medicine, I still awaited the

ultimate effect of loss of blood.

The cerebral symptoms gradu-

ally presented themselves again, and I bled him, for the third
time, as before, at the expiration of about twelve hours after
the second blood-letting.

Soon afterward, I gave him one tea-

spoonful of castor oil, which completed the direct course of
treatment.

In two days after the last blood-letting I took him

upon the railroad a distance of five miles, and returned.

The .

quantity of blood abstracted in the foregoing case was very
large at each abstraction, and exceeded, in the ratio and size of
the subject, what I shall have recorded of the experience of
others." -x·
It has been stated that his brain underwent development in

a rapid manner.

Accompanying this condition, was a corres-

ponding manifestation of mind, which advanced with great
rapidity after the age of two years, having emerged rather
suddenly out of its state of listlessness. His curiosity became
alive to every thing before him, and, like other children, he

*

·- - - - - - ---

Institutes of Medicine, page 749.

----

.

7
delighted in stories, especially in the "Melodies of Mother
Goose."

And now began a display of that remarkable combi-

nation of the child and the man which distinguished his whole
subsequent life.

The first manifestation of the gravity of his

thoughts was seen in the earnestness with which he listened to
the attributes of God, to the recital of prayer, and readings
from the Bible.
Simultaneously with this, he evinced a great retentivenei:s of
memory,_ which kept pace with the revolving days. At the age
or two years and ten months, the stretch of his memory was
accidentally tested by a map which was shown to him for
amusement.

Several places were pointed out, and in three

days afterward, on his manifesting a wish to see the Atlas again,
it was discovered that he could point to the places which had
been shown him before, as their names were pronounced.

This

being done with accuracy, the experiment was continued upon
many maps throughout the world.

Each lesson consisted of six

to twenty places, or regions of country, and scarcely a mistake
was made by the child in pointing out the places when they
were again named to him. When the experiments began, the
names were generally pronounced but once or twice, and an
interval of three to six days would be allowed to elapse before
testing his memory. On one occasion, and not long after the
development of this faculty, all the islands in the Grecian
Archipelago were pointed out, and, at a subsequent time, his
finger fell upon each of the islands as their names were pro-

8

I

nounced. This trait of mind remained with him always, though
it became less remarkable after the full recovery of his health
It early rendered him the service of

at the age of eight years.

impressing indelibly whatever was read to him from the

~ible;

~ma
to his devot~al

and when he came to peruse that volume, it imparted to
familiarity with all its parts that gave a zest

ha~
b.

\

\

'~

Another unusual characteristic of his early life was t\ e
·~

power of calculation.

But, before proceeding farther witl'

these peculiarities, it may be said that they are stated more

I

for the purpose of connecting them with the extraordinary
religious feeling which was manifested in his infancy, and to
illustrate a mind which suddenly finished its course under the

I

happiest and most endearing conditions of life, than for any
other object.
This power of calculation was predicted by Dr. Chapin, of
this city (at an accidental interview for the first and only time),
upon the ground of phrenological development, when the child
was five years of age. The Doctor was told that there had been
no such manifestation of mind ; but .he insisted that "it would
sooner or later come out.:'

It did display itself very suddenly

and remarkably in about eight months afterwards, though he
had not been taught figures, and was just engaged in learning
the alphabet. How far the power extended, it was not thought
right to ascertain, on account of the injury which any severe
exercise of the mind exerted upon his digestive organs.

An

9

experiment was early carried as far as the addition of eighteen
series of figures, ei;tch series consisting of two figures.

The

amount of the whole was rendered immediately.
There was no attempt to cultivate this singular faculty,
partly for the reason already stated, and in part with a view to
leaving it without that exercise which had been supposed to
have destroyed it in former cases. It was called out, at intervals, for a few years, when it seemed to be advancing; but it
' .

finally departed from him, and rather suddenly.

I

In after years

he was never able to explain the process by which he had computed.
.r

...

#

....

It should be said, however, that he always possessed a

great facility in mathematical problems, though his taste did
not lie particularly in that direction. A restraint was long
imposed upon his study of Arithmetic, from a fear of its injurious effect upon his brain ; and it was not till within two years
before he entered Harvard University that he was allowed to

·.

apply himself with much diligence to that pursuit.

Until that

time, his knowledge of Arithmetic was mostly spontaneous;
and that was so considerable that when the class failed of
answering questions, Robert was called upon, and generally
with success. Farther than this, he had no part in the
mathematical exercISes.

It may be said, also, in connection

with this subject, that he early excelled at the game of chess,
and that it was, for a long time, a matter of anxiety with
his Parents lest his brain should suffer from this cause. It
occasioned him headaches when at Cambridge, and, in conse2

11

over the studies of the preceding year ; and as his Father had
always designed him for Harvard University, his entrance was
delayed another year to enable him to attend to some special
studies required at that Institution, and that his health, also,
should not be endangered by close application. He was then
nearly eighteen years of age, and his health continued to be
sound till the time of his death, unless somewhat impaired
before taking his late journey into Virginia.
During his connection with College, which continued into
the last term of his Senior year, every thing was clone to
administer to his happiness.

He was wholly unlimited in his

pecuniary expenses, and frequent visits were . made to him at
Cambridge by his Parents.

Indeed, his Mother lived with him

there during a part of two winters; and through the whole of
his separation a weekly and often daily correspondence was
maintained.
Many details illustrative of his character and habits will be
found in the letters written by his Father in answer to the kind
expressions of sympathy and condolence by the Classmates of
the Youth, and which are printed in connection with the latt er
for the perusal of those who may be inclined to carry their
attention beyond the general Memoir. But there is one circum:i:'

i

stance, especially, which forms the most remarkable feature of
his life, and is without any precedent within the knowledge of
his Parents. This was his devotional feeling; and to this, therefore, a more extended notice will be given.

There was some-

12
thing in it which always· appeared to his Parents more like
inspiration than an acquired disposition. They have never been
able to explain it upon the ground of instruction, nor upon any
theory of human sentiments and actions ; and they now look

II
I

back upon it with the full conviction that it belonged as much,
at least, to the constitution of his soul as his early power of
computing numbers, and the rarer singularity of his memory.
But, while he lost the former of these peculiarities, and the
latter was shorn of its astonishing feature as he ad vancecl
beyond the age of childhood, it will be seen by his latest compositions that his deep reverential feeling for holy things was
in full blaze to the last, and may appear to the reader to have
been a concurring cause of his death.
There is no disposition felt by his Parents to exaggerate this
subject; for what was apparently natural to the child, was so
extraordinary, that, when they connect it with the remarkable

c
I

preservation of his life during many years of hopeless disease,
and the circumstances attending his death, when his soul was
delighting in the purest of earthly enjoyments, mingled with
aspirations after an immortality of heavenly bliss, they haxe
much reason to think that one of his Schoolmates/· in a letter
to them, has given a just interpretation of the Providential
influences which attended their child.
It was observed, that, when at the age of two years and a

half, his attention was called to his dependence upon God, and

-*

See Mr. Babcock's Letter.

13
passages were read to him from the Bible, he manifested a profound interest ; and, as soon as he could speak, it was seen with
how much devotion he had listened by his daily repetition of
what he had heard.

He would often call for the Bible, and

when placed before him, his imitation of reading would deceive
an observer unacquainted with his ignorance of letters.

There

was nothing in this of the levity of "child-preaching," but it
was practised with a seriousness which inspired solemnity in
all observers, and by whom the greatest care was taken to
avoid appearances which might not harmonize with his devotional feeling.
This system of instruction was continued, though with
increasing moderation, till his knowledge rendered him independent ; when he seized with avidity upon the Scriptures,
and read them twice through by the age of thirteen years.
Although his memory had now enabled him to treasure up a
large proportion of the Sacred Volume, it is within the know. ledge of one or both of his parentE, that he continued this practice, whether in town or country, at least morning and evening,
till the time he left them for College, at the age of about
eighteen years, and subsequently, more or less, during the
vacations; when he generally read the Greek.
His undeviating attention to the Sabbath, as stated in the
letter from his Father to the Senior Class, was not less remarkable.

It was carried, indeed, to the greatest rigor ; and his

Parents can now trace him along, with the most vivid recollec-

14
tion, from the age of two years and a half, as always employed
on Saturday evening in preparing for the solemn observance of
the following day, by abandoning his toys, or casting off other

l

1

1
~

It is also due to his memory that it should be

iI

said that this was never prompted by others, but was wholly

~

amusements.

spontaneous with the child ; and, as an exemplification of the
strictness of the principle by which he was governed up to a
mature age, it may be stated that, on one occasion after h ir;
seventeenth year, when his Father desired him to leave a letter
at the house of a patient on his way to Church, he subsequently
expressed a wish that his Father would alJsol ve him, as far as
possible, from all temporal matters on the Sabbath day.

His

conscience, however, in that respect, had been very scrupulously
observed.
His infant prayers were uttered with a fervency which
would have awakened devotional feeling in the obtuse; and, at
an early age he would retire alone, morning and evening, and
often at other hours also, to perform this part of his devotions.
Nothing ever interrupted this habit.

In his infancy, as soon as

he had lisped his prayers, h e always desired to be left alone.
He was often known, when at the primary school, and afterward at the Grammar School of Columbia College, when unusually detained in the morning by study, or other cause, to forego
his breakfast rather than to neglect his prayers and reading the
Bible ; and, for the latter purpose, he would incur the risk of
losing his place in the class, although he had an indomitable

l
'

15
ambition to be always at the head.';

As a farther example of

his perseverance in his religious habits, and of the reverential
feeling which sustained and governed him, it may be said, as
might be expected, that he was often rallied by his Schoolmates
upon the solemnity of his compositions, and although they
became familiarly known among them as sermons, it had no
effect in inducing him to modify their character, nor did he ever
mention the subject to his Parents.
It is difficult, however, to convey, by any description of his
habits, the manner in which his religious feeling exercised an
universal sway over all his movements.

•

It seemed as if an

enchanting Spirit led his way in every action ; kept him aloof
from all associates who did not approach his standard of
morality ; ·inspired him with a zeal for intellectual pursuits, or
for the most innocent amusements, that were always marked by
an animated perseverance; and which chained him to such an
undeviating observance of his religious convictions that it
would often display itself in the midst of his buoyant pleasures.•
This is sometimes conspicuous in his compositions, an example
of which occurs in his Grammar School exercise on the " Christmas Holidays;" Article 37.
There exists amon

a ers the followin

posed by himself soon after he began to learn the
writina.

mar~ of

* In this he was generally successful, as expressed in the letter from bis schoolmate, Mr. Babcock.

.~

~

~- ; ;

...

,·h

...

. . l

·I
.)

I.

16

..

'

1

"PRAYER.

"Almighty God, I thank Thee for this opportunity of prais~ ~'

~·~~.;·.

ing Thy Holy Name.
I have committed.

I implore Thy pardon for the sins which
0 Lord, preserve me from all sin this clay,

that at the close of it I may lie clown to rest with a clear conscience towards Goel, ancl a sure trust in the merits of Jesus
Christ.

Blot out my sins.

Blessed is the man that keepeth

Thy commandments, and cursed is he that breaketh them.

No

·>,

man shall see Thy face that works iniquity, and he shall sink
clown into hell, prepared for the devil and his angels.

0 Lord,

when Thy only begotten Son, who came into the world to save
sinners, shall come to pronounce judgment according to the
deeds done in the body, He shall say, 'Corne ye blessed of my
Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you ; ' or 'Depart
from me ye cursed into everlasting fire.'

0 Lord, grant that

when He comes ancl says tliat, I may take a seat on the Throuc
of Righteousness, ancl have a crown put on my head which is
purer than the purest gold ; for gold fades

awa~y,

but that is au

everlasting crown of glory, which endureth for ever and ever;
Amen.
" 0 Lord, I thank Thee for having left this promise, that
those who seek Thee early shall find Thee.

0 Lord, Thou ever

loved little children so, that Thou even took them and blessed
them, and said, ' Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of Goel.'

;~

'

17
" 0 Lord, grant whatever I may ask.

I ask salvation,

wisdom, food, raiment, health, faith ancl trust in Thee ; particu-

.. l.

~

larly faith and trust in Thee, because that is the only thing
that will conquer earth and hell. 'Whom have I in Heaven but
Thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire besides Thee.'
Lift up Thou the light of Thy countenance upon/ me, and this
shall put more joy and gladness in my heart than when 'corn
and wine increaseth.'

'A day in Thy courts is better than a

thousand elsewhere.

I had rather be a door-keeper in the

house of God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness.'
"I pray that Thou wouldst forgive my enemies, if I have
any.* Blessed Jesus, I thank Thee that I and my friends are
permitted to see the returning light.
till the close of it.

May we remain in health

May we then lie down to rest with a clear

mind towards God, and a sure trust in the merits of Jesus
Christ. Amen."
Then follows the Lord's Prayer, written m the large,
unsteady hand of beginners.
As an internal evidence of his devotional feeling, it may be

stated that, in all his compositions, from the earliest to the
latest, he begins the pronouns relative to God and Jesus Christ
with a capital letter.
teristic.

Its uniformity is the striking charac-

* In th~ course ~f a conversation with his Mother, in January, 1851, he incidentally remarked that "he had not an enemy."
3

18
His attendance at Church, from the time he was able to go
abroad alone, was in perfect harmony with all his other devotional exercises.

Up to the time of his leaving his Parents for

College, h e was never absent from Church, unless occasionally
prevented by temporary sickness.

No condition of weather, no

storm, however severe, ever deterred him from the fulfilment of
this duty.

It should be also stated that this, too, was wholly

spontaneous.

There was no prompting from his Parents, for

there had early come over them an apprehension that his religion would run into excess.

It is also due to the Child, and to

the subject, that it should be said that, when at the age of
thirteen, and again at fourteen years, he expressed a desire to
become a communicant at Church, he was advised by his
Father to delay it till his judgment should become more
mature, and when he could better appreciate the responsibilities he would assume.

The Father delighted in the piety of

the Child, for it was, indeed, the pride of his heart.

H e deeply

laments the advice which was given; but it was in conformity
with the facts that were perpetually before him.

He was

appalled by the fear of fanaticism or religious monomania ; a

•

fear that for a long period haunted the imagination of his
Parents.

But the progress of time h as revealed the groundless

nature of their apprehensions, and presents the R eligion of the
Child and the Man as for ever :fl.owing in the uniform current of a
calm, rational, lofty and dignified Christianity; re R eligion which
infused itself into all his pursuits and enjoyments, and rendered

19

his life as pure, contented and happy as was ever enjoyed
upon earth.

The Father is now convinced, on reviewing the

history of fanaticism in Religion, that it does not often spring
from cultivating the holiest of its precepts at the earliest age
when the soul may be awakened to its realities, and that no
restraint should be imposed upon the aspirations of a child
when apparently founded in conviction.

The evil probably lies

in artificial excitements before the rational faculties are sufficiently developed to resist their sway, or in errors of education,
or temperament, or incapacity.

In the instance before us there

was a ready acquiescence, and no injurious effect.

But, in

another case, it is freely conceded that it might be otherwise,
and doubtless has been.
It will be seen from the letter addressed by his Father to
the Senior Class, that Robert was anxious to make the He brew
language an elective study for the Junior year, and that this
was discouraged partly from a fear that he would devote himself prematurely to the study of divinity. This apprehension
was awakened particularly by a remark made to his Mother in
his Sophomore year, after returning from a visit to the Rev.
Dr. Anthon, when he exclaimed, in an exulting manner, "Ma! Ma! what do you think I have done?
to study divinity with Dr. Anthon."

I have engaged

But, it should be said

that, the even tenor of his way, and his sound logical mind,
had long before this dissipated all apprehension of fanatical
delusion.

20

Robert was always devoted to the Episcopal Church,
though he could worship with other denominations.

vVhat

he thought of the latter, and how rational his religion was,
will appear from some of his compositions.

He was severe

upon whatever he regarded as artificial or hypocritical; but
his charity for most sects in religion, so far as he knew

,,

them, and even for paganism that worshipped according to
the light of nature and of conscience, was of the most benevolent kind.
Although he avows himself an Episcopalian, and an adherent to the doctrines of the Church, in one of his late forensics
(Article 9), yet his charity for other denominations was so
great, that other proof may be stated that he cherished to the
last the cardinal tenets of the Church as indispensable to true
religion.

This was displayed with so much earnestness of

feeling to his Mother while she was residing with him at Cambridge, during the last winter, that she made it the subject of
a letter to his Father.
before his death.

This was in January, about two months

It should be said, however, that the object

of the letter was to show that he retained his remarkable
familiarity with the Scriptures, as evinced by his application
of them in defending the doctrines of the Church, and the
triumphant manner in which he sustained an argument upon
the subject with an able theologian of a different faith.

"The

conversation began," says his Mother, "relative to the many
views entertained in respect to the Bible.

Robert maintained

21
its divine inspiration throughout, that it was one beautiful and
harmonious whole, and that it sets forth most clearly the doctrine of the atonement (to use his own words), 'from the first
chapter of Genesis to the last of Revelation ; that that was the
burden of its precepts and of the prophecies, and the only
interpretation to the types and apparent mysteries.'

He sup-

ported his argument by many texts, and thence deduced the
divinity of our Saviour as the unavoidable result.

He uttered

sentiments that did credit to himself and his cause.

He main-

tained the discussion with all the warmth and enthusiasm of his
nature, and from a pure love of truth, and not from a spirit of
disputation or display; and the whole gave evident manifestations that he retains his former remarkable familiarity with
the contents of the sacred volume."
An article from his pen appeared in the New- York Evening

Post of June 26, 1850 about eig-ht months before his death,
which is illustrative of the object now in view, and it is therefore inserted here for that purpose.

ARTICLE I.
LETrER TO TIIE REV. PROFESSOR :MOSE.'3 STU.ART, D. D.

"DEAR AND REVEREND Sm : - It is with feelings of intense
pleasure and interest that I have just perused the pamphlet,
recently put forth by you, on the subject of ' Conscience and

.'

22
the Constitution.' -K·

It is with joy I hail the day when the sub-

ject of slavery is to be brought before the tribunal of morality;
and conscience, as supreme judge, is to give her decree whether
man shall hold in bondage his brother man.

The liberal-

mindedness you show towards your opponents, cannot fail to
command almost universal admiration, as well as the good
humor, and pleasant sarcasm, with which you answer your
impertinent revilers.

But, although I most fully approve of

what I believe to be really your principles at heart, concerning the institution of slavery, I cannot think that you are consistent in all that you have said in your able work.
"You devote about twenty pages to 'The Attitude of
Slavery as presented by the Old Testament,' and bring up
many passages which show conclusively that slavery was authorized by the Mosaic code.

Then you go on to say :

"'In the name of all that is called reasoning now, m morals or
religion, how is the ownership of slaves, which Heaven has given ex·
press leave to purchase, to be deemed a crime of the deepest dye a malwn in se - an offence to be classed with murder and treason ?
L et those answer this question who decide, a priori, what the Bible
ought to speak, and then turn it over, in order to see how they can
make it speak what they wish. But there is no bending of Moses's
words. - There they are, so plain that " he who runneth may read."

* Professor Stuart's pamphlet is a defence of a Speech on the subject of
slavery, delivered by the Hon. Daniel Webster, in the Senate of the United States,
during the pendency of the great compromise question.

23
If abolitionists are right in their pos1t10n, then Moses is greatly in
the wrong. More than this, then, has the God of the Hebrews sanctioned, with his express leave, the commission of a crime as great as
that which he has forbidden in the sixth or seventh commandment.'

"This on the 35th page.
25th page.

Now we will turn back to the

There, with regard to slavery in its connection

with the patriarchs, your words are :

"'If we

appeal to the patriarchs to justify slavery, then why not
appeal to them in order to justify polygamy and concubinage? Undoubtedly they neither thought nor intended to do wrong in either
of the cases that are before us. But this will not justify us m
imitating them. The Gospel has given us better light.'

"Then you go on to say :
"'I sh.all enter into no argument here in defence of the patriarchs.
In one sense they do not concern us, for the blessed God, by his
gospel, having scattered the darkness of early ages, has made us to
walk in the clear light of the Sun of Righteousness, so that polygamy and concubinage are no more ·regarded in Christian lands as
lawful or proper. Perhaps we may see, before we are through, that
slavery is as little commanded or even permitted by the highest form
of Christianity, as those practices. Still it is proper to say in relation
to the patriarchs, that every man's conduct is to be judged of, in
most cases, at least in some good measure, by the light he has, and
by the age and circumstances in which he lived.'

I

I

"Here you acknowledge the practices and customs of the
patriarchs to be no authority to us of the present day, except

-L

. : 11~

-

..

'

.1:

I.

:li t

24

so far as they are m accordance with the 'better light' of the
Gospel, in which every one must say that you are perfectly
correct.

But can we say that the practices and tb e customs of

the patriarchs were not as divinely authorized or permitted, as
were the laws of Moses?

Surely no one, who bas examined

the Bible, can say this!

For throughout the whole of the

Sacred Volume the patriarchs are spoken of in terms of reverence and respect.

lllt:

Everywhere does the Almighty bestow

upon them marks of his peculiar approbation.

And how often

do we find the enviable promise : 'In thy seed shall all the
nations of the earth be blessed.'

They were peculiarly

favored of Him, and upon them He bestowed the honors of
I

~

direct communion with Himself.

Now let us turn to the Bible,

and see whether in His communications to Abraham be sanctioned the practice of slavery.

In Genesis, 17th chapter, we

find these words : 'And God said unto Abraham, Every mancbild among you shall be circumcised. He that is born in thy
house, and be that is bought with thy money, must needs be
circumcised.'

And what said the angel of the Lord unto

Hagar, ''hen he found her in the wilderness?

In tbe 16th

chapter of Genesis, the 9th verse, we find it recorded in these
words : 'Heturn to thy mistress, and submit thyself under her
hands.'
"From these and other passages, it is evident that slavery
was practised, although not by Divine command, yet by Divine
permission, as well in the time of Abraham as in the time of

25
l\foses.

Yet you and I, and all Christians, acknowledge that

the patriarchal code is no authority for us, where it is contrary
to the 'better light' of the Gospel.
"But in so doing, we surely do not 'tax high Heaven with
misdemeanor - with encouragement to commit one among the
foulest of crimes.'

No, never ! never ! It needs but little re-

flection to see that one thing might be right for those who live
in one age of the world, and under another code; while the
same thing may be wrong for those who live in another age of
the world, and under another code.

One thing might be right

for the patriarchs, and wrong for us.
"We regard the Gospel as the exponent of the patriarchal
code; so that whatever in the latter we find to be against the
express command or spirit of the former, we feel justified in
rejecting, as authority for our rule of action.

But does not the

Gospel claim for itself the same privilege with regard to the
Mosaic code?

Let us see : Matthew 5: 38, 39 - 'Ye have

heard that it hath been said (Lev. 24: 20), An eye for an eye,
and a tooth for a tooth ; but I say unto you, That ye resist not
evil.' Again : Matthew 5 : 43, 44 - 'Ye have heard that it
hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine
enemy ; but I say unto you, Love your enemies.' Again : I
may refer to the 10th chapter of Mark, concerning divorcement,
and . to your favorite apostle Paul, where he treats of circumcision.

I'

Do not these passages plainly show us, that the laws

and principles of Christ are to be our rule of action, even where
4

i i

'

26

I,

they differ from those of Moses ; or, in other words, that Christianity is the exponent of all laws and codes which preceded it?
" Now the question arises, Is slavery contrary to the spirit
and principles of Christianity ?

This, sir, I think you have

clearly proved in the last twenty pages of your 'little work ; '
but whether you have proved i,t or not, you have certainly
shown that such is your opinion, which is all the same for my
purpose.

Can any one, who is at all a believer in Christianity,

say that what is contrary to its spirit and principles is not
a wrong- a crime for us, although it may not have been so for
those who lived in the days of Abraham or Moses?

Most

surely not, for this is the fundamental rule of our actions, that
what Christianity approves is right, what she condemns is
wrong - is crime.

And if that crime be one which seriously

affects the happiness and welfare of our fellow-beings, it becomes
a great crime.

" If, sir, you had said that slavery was not contrary to the
spirit and principles of Christianity, I should only have to say,
that I do not approve of your principles ; that you and I interpret the Bible differently, and your rebuke of the abolitionists
for their views respecting the morality of slavery would have
been most entirely consistent. But in taking an opposite
course, i.l!.. ._ endeavoring to prove that slavery is contrary to the
spirit and princmles of Christianitv. vou vour><elf have allowed.
that it is a crime ; and. in setting forth, in the glowing colors
which you have done, the evils of the institution, and in stigma-

27
tizing it with the well-merited appellation of 'might prevailing
over right,' you have allowed that it is not only a crime, but one
of a deep, if not the 'deepest dye.'
"Now, sir, how is the rebuke (which I have quoted) of the
abolitionists for their views respecting the morality of slavery,
consistent with yourself, when those views are the same that
lli

i

you entertain, that the colonizationists entertain, (in whose favor
you afterwards speak in terms of the highest praise, and justly
so ;) views, too, which yourself think are borne out by the
highest principles of Christianity?

How is this denunciation

consistent with yourself on the 103d page, where, after bringing forward some strong arguments against slavery, you say:
"'And if all this be true, then, for one part of mankind to enslave
another, stands on the simple ground of might prevailing over right.
Neither the law of love, nor doing as we would be done by, permits
any man to act on such a ground, and be guiltless before God' !

" I am, with feelings of deep respect,
"Reverend Sir, most truly yours."
His apparently intuitive perception of the right was so

great, and his sensibility to the wrong so acute, that, as he
became acquainted with mankind, he was much pained by what
he considered a far more prevailing hypocrisy in Religion than
he had been prepared to find.

It finally became even a source

of distress to him; so much so, indeed, that his Parents regarded

it, from conversations with him when he was last in New-York

'

28
and but shortly before his death, as a morbid sentiment.

He

expressed himself as shocked with all appearances of insincerity
in assemblages for the worship of God.

This feeling is evinced

in some of his late Theses, written at College. It is conspicuous
in an Article which he transmitted to Washington City, twelve
days before his death, for publication in the N ewspapers.

He

had just spent a week in that City, and on reaching New-York
he inclosed the Article to his Classmate, Mr. Felton, who was
then at Washington.

It is severe upon certain misdeeds which

he witnessed there, and contains an enthusiastic eulogium upon
Washington.
He has left a record of the Sermons which he had heard

. ''

through a long period of time, in which he evinces great atten-

~

tion, . as well as the power of his memory; h aving generally
sketched their principal features, and often accompanied them
with critical remarks. But their introduction here is considered
unnecessary, and may not possess sufficient interest.

As far as

possible, h e kept all these things to himself, and he never knew
that his Parents were aware of the existence of these records,
or of the preceding Prayer.
A thousand little circumstances remain untold, which would
m ore and more exalt this child of God in the esteem of those

who admired him most; for his piety was of that unobtrusive
nature which is mostly to lJe seen in an exemplary and amiable
deportment.

Some of these will appear in the correspondence

which follows, and in his own writings where h e speaks for

_..:....:

... ..,..

H.....,WWWW WWA MU

3' . we+ -

~
1'
j
i

29
himself.

It has been thought by his P arents to be an object of

interest to present the Youth in his full religious character, for
the purpose, at least, of divesting the manner of his death of
all considerations that can bear injuriously upon Christianity,
and to show that there had 1)een no falling off from the deep
feeling of piety which had hallowed his infancy.

Among the

many other evidences of this which will have been shown, the
· following Thesis, written about four months and a half before
his death, as a College exercise, and obtained, with the others

that follow, from the R ev. Prof. vValker, is sufficiently conclusive.

The testimonials of his friends will show how well he

fulfilled the principles which pervade this and other compositions. It will be seen, also, that the Thesis is a forcible appeal
against the act which so soon afterwards cost him his life. (See
also a Foren8ic, Article 9, written two months and a half before
his death.)

THESIS-ARTICLE II.
"

1

WE HAVE REACHED THAT STAGE OF OUR PROGRESS I N WHICH

THE HIGHEST PLEASURE THAT THIS LIFE CAN AFFORD IS THE ANTICIp ATION OF THAT WHICH IS TO FOLLOW.'

"Our subject involves a question which, although of little
importance, is one of much difficulty to answer ; namely, whether there be such a stage of man's progress, ' in which the
highest pleasure,' &c.

. l

30

"The question may, perhaps, be regarded in different lights,
according to the sense in which we take the word 'progress;'

II

whether we regard it as signifying a certain p e1·iod of life, or a
certain state of advancmnent, intellectiwl and moral.
" If the former be the sense, then the solution of the ques-

:I

!i

tion depends upon the consideration of the effects of age in

1l

through which we receive whatever enjoyment flows from

.,

blunting the faculties, and impairing the

sense~,

the channels

sources which are without, and the effoct of this, in its turn, in
making man weary of this existence and longing for another.
" If the latter be the correct acceptation, the answer must
!

•I

i

depend upon a consideration of the effects of a high culture of
the mind, great elevation of thought, refinement of the moral
sense, a love of whatever is holy aml pure, in making man
dissatisfied with this world of sense and sin, and leading him to
seek enjoyment in depicting to his imagination the joys of a
world where every thing shall be in harmony with his nature,
and where he can satisfy the utmost cravings of his soul.
"In the first case, to suppose a period when the highest
enjoyment consists in the anticipation of another existence, is to
suppose a period when death becomes desirabl e ; when we wish
to leave this world, not because we are too elevated for its
pleasures, but because time has rendered us incapable of enjoying them.

It is true, indeed, that in childhood there are many

sources from which the mind, entirely bent upon the present,
free from all anxious cares about the future, nay, almost uncon-

31

sc10us of a future, can drink pure and unalloyed enjoyment;
and that, as life advances, the sources are not only changed, but
diminished in number.

Thus far we speak from experience, as

well as observation; but from the latter we should infer that
. . .--,,

this goes on till when, ' sans t eeth, sans eyes, sans every thing,'
man has very few sources of pleasure.

Still we very much

doubt whether the days ever come in which it can be said

i
I

'there is no pleasure in them,' and when man is led to wish for
death as the road to a future state in which his capacity for
enjoyment will be renewed.
"All Nature cries out against such an idea as this. Consider
the horror with which the aged man shrinks from death, the
happiness he experiences in the mere fact of living.

Consider,

too, the desire of all for length of days, and then ask yourself
if it would have been in accordance with the Wisdom of the

Creator to have placed in the human breast a desire to live to
a period in which the highest happiness would be the anticipation of the time when life should cease ?
" Nor can we suppose that the Moral Governor would ever
have held out the promise of long life as a reward for virtue,
which He certainly has done, if old age be such as to offer no
higher pleasure than the anticipation of another existence ; for
the fifth Commandment is - ' Honor thy father and mother,
that thy days may be long,' etc.
" To be sure, there are exceptions here as in every thing
else.

There no doubt have been individuals reduced to such a

32

I,

I

state of wretchedness that death was the only desire of their
h earts; but it must be remembered that under these circumstances death is desired more as an end to all suffering in this
world, than as an introduction to the happiness of a future.
"The question, in the second case, assumes a _nature which
.

i

demands more serious consideration, as the affirmative is attend-

;

ed with a much greater air of probability.

It needs, however,

but little observation to see, that, if there be any individuals
who have arrived at such a pitch of moral culture and elevation
of thought as to be entirely above the common pleasures of the
world, and to find their most perfect bliss in the anticipation of
the joys of a world where all shall be in harmony with their
nature-if there be any such, that they must be few and far
between.
"But take the most pure and holy that ever lived upon
earth; may it not be urged that they have many new sources
of pure and hallowed delight opened to them, although they
have ceased to derive pleasure from those things which yield it
to others?

In the first place, what an unspeakable pleasure

must be the consciousness of his own purity and holiness ; then
how delightful to holcl communion with his Goel and to be
assured of His smiles ! What pleasure, too, must the ext ernal
world yield to him, for in his eyes Nature is the Oracle of her
Maker.

Let him
" ' Look on each trembling leaf and humble flower,
The voiceless teachers of Almighty Power.'

33

"Every where he treads he finds something from which to
draw new inspiration, for every where 'Nature, in eloquent
speech, adores her God ! '
"Moreover, to one who is filled with the spirit of Him
'Who went about doing good,' how joyous it must be to be
surrounded with opportunities for the exercise of his benevolence !

Although to such a one it must be a pleasure to think

of a time when the 'just shall be made perfect,' still we conceive that one who is truly possessed of the spirit of purity and
holiness must derive far higher pleasure from the sources we
have just mentioned, especially the last.
"Harvard University, October 16, 1850.
" RonERT Tuour PAINE."

Another Thesis, written about fourteen months before his
death, may be introduced here, as corresponding with the foregoing, and with others which will follow at another part of the
Memoir, in showing the habitual tendency of his thoughts, and
the delicate constitution of his mind.

5

!

-"
34

THESIS-ARTICLE III.
"'DIFFERENT LIVES OF MEN AND BEES.'

"It was the lovely season of Summer when I wound my
way along the mossy paths of a garden.

It was that time of

day most fitted to reading lessons of instruction in the Book of
Nature, for
" 'Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime advancing,
Sowed the Earth with Orient pearl ; '

and the Sun-god, with his new-born rays, brought to light a
thousand gems upon each grassy blade and each t ender chalice.
!I

Soft and gentle were the zephyrs as they were wafted to me,
laden with Flora's perfumes.

Unbroken was the silence, except

by the melodious robin-song, and the hum of the busy bee, which,
unlike many of our species, had already commenced his work,
and was sporting from cup to cup, sipping the nectarine juice.
"Thus I sat me down upon a mossy bank t o contemplate
this little insect as he flew, unheedful of my presence, now t o
the hone~~-suckle, now to the closing primrose, and now to the
ruddy clover.

"In thee, thou tiny thing, how perfect is God's all-directing
Power! How complet ely dost thou fulfil the duties for which
thy Maker formed thee ! From the very dawn of thy existence

all is action, all is life!

Hardly out of the chrysalis, you wing

your way to flow ery meads and gardens, to collect a precious
store for the preservation of your community.

vVith what

unerring wisdom you construct your houses ; each a hexagon, a
ngure which, after the lapse of ages, some human sage found to
be the most economical, but which your species has used ever
since ' Creation's dawn.'

vVhat :fidelity, too, you manifest to

the young, and those not your own ; for you see that each egg
of your queen has an appropriate cell, and when the worm
appears, with the most anxious and parental t enderness you
supply it with daily nourishment, and when going into the aurelia with what workmanlike skill you rasten the waxy portal!
" What :fidelity ! vVhat anxious care you manifest towards
your sovereign !
your all!
reJOice.

In her seems to be wrapped up your life,

vVhen she weeps, you weep; when she rejoices, you
Oh! had man been as faithful, as obedient to his All-

gracious Sovereign, no death, no sorrow would ever have laid
their heavy hands upon Nature's fair and beautiful features, and
happiness would have had universal sway.
" But, little bee, although thy life is one of wonder, free

from gnawing cares and weary trials, and spent amid the flowers and Nature's smiles, still I would be what I am; for in man
shines the glorious lamp of reason, which
" ' Looks through Nature up to Nature's God,
Pursues the chaiu which links th' immense Design,
Joins H eaven and Earth and mortal and Divine.'

,
/

'./
/

~ ~i

. .

--·

I

36
" How varied is the life of Man ! While thine pursues the
same unwearied course, his is for ever changing, alwa:ys progressive, constantly advancing t owards perfection.

Now man walks

among the stars ; now mounts above ·the stars to Him Who
made them ; now descends to Earth, and with acids and alkalies, heat and cold, tortures Nature and finds out her secrets ;
now hurries away on the wings of imagination ; now becomes
....

lost in abstruse reasonings.

What thou doest, thou doest

_ '\.

blindly; but man knows why and how he acts.
see and pursue or shun.
future and the present.

H e can fore-

H e lives in the mighty past and the
Oh! who shall measure th e bounds of

reason ! For this godlike gift, essence of Divinity, let grateful

.
.
mcense nse

" ' To Thee, Whose Temple is all space,
Whose Altar, Earth, Sea, Skies.'

"Harvard University, December 27th, 1849.
"RoBER'r TROUP PAINE ."

The followin g Forensic, written about five months before
his death, and like the foregoing a College exercise, will show
his veneration for the H oly Scriptures.

.,
'

37

FORENSIC-ARTICLE IV.
" ' IS THERE l\IORE TO IlE GAINED OR LOST IlY A NEW TRANSLATION
OF TIIE SClUPTURES FOR Co:IDION USE

?'

"Before entering upon the discussion of any question, it is
of the utmost importnnce that we should understand its nature;
and in ascertaining this, two points are to be considered, the
wording of the question, and on which side the presumption lies.
"The words 'for common use' may, at first sight, appear to
be ambiguous, implying, as some would think, that which is
actually adopted, actually in vogue.

But the proper wording,

if this meaning were intended, would be ' in common use ; '

while, as it stands, the natural interpretation seems to us to be,
intended or designed for common use ; and in this light we
shall consider it.
"As to which side the presumption is, it is sufficient to remark, that in every question in which an innovation or change
is concerned, the presumption is against it.

Thus, in the ques-

tion at issue, the change involved is a new translation of the
Scriptures. The presumption, therefore, being in favor of the
old, those who are adverse to a new translation have only to
disprove the advantages brought forward by their opponents

38

in its favor, without being obliged to prove any particular disadvantages.

They are in a position similar to that of the crimi-

nal at trial, who has merely t o rebut the testimony brought
against him.

Having premised this, we are ready to enter

upon the question, '"'Whether,' &c.
"The advocates of a new translation contend that our
present version was made by ignorant men, and that conse..

,

quently there is often an incorrect rendering of the original ;
and to this they ascribe the many divisions and the various
doctrines which exist in the Christian world. They propose,
therefore, a new translation, in which the right signification of
each word shall be given, the passages, which in our version are
interpolations, shall be omitted, and those which exist in the
original but not in our version, shall be introduced ; and that
this, by gaining the acceptance of all, will do away with the
schisms which divide the Christian Church.
"Let us now observe, that most of the passages which are
thought to be incorrect renderings involve doctrinal points, or .
are those where there are various readings in the original.
\Vho, then, is to decide what is the right signification, what the
correct realling?
said.

'The scholars,' is the answer.

Very easily

:But when doctors disagree, who then for umpire?

Ab !

here, then, at the very threshold is a mighty obstacle. But
few of the dreamers of this project seem to have rememberecl
that the scholars themselves, the very men to whom they
appeal as impartial judges, belong to the different bodies of

39

Christians whose very dividing points are the passages m
question.
"But even the few, who have not overlooked this objection,
endeavor to get over it in a manner which leaves them about
where they were before.

They say, that if the scholars were to

undertake a new translation of the Scriptures, they would look
at these passages with au unbiassed view; that they would free
themselves from all sectarian opinion, and thus be able to arrive
at the actually true signification of the disputed words ; and,
with regard to different r eadings, be able to discriminate between the true and the spurious.
" It is easy, however, to see that this answer is founded

upon a false process of reasoning ; because among all sects the
great mass can show 'no reason for the faith that is in them,'
but hold to particular doctrines from the influence of early edu- ·
cation. They had been so taught, and therefore their particular
faith.

Hence it is argued that it may become so with all.

But, while we find that with the ignorant it is only sectarian
instruction which is the foundation of their belief, with the enlightened and educated it is, for the most part, careful exs nination and reflection.

And this is particularly the case with the

scholar in regard to those passages which involve doctrines that
depend upon the disputed signification of some wo.rd, or upon
different readings ; for he has adopted one of them as the true
one, not like most of his sect from early habit, but because from
a careful analysis of the original, and comparing authorities, he

" .

;1!

40

!I
.'

has been led to this conclusion ; while another, of equal learning and abilities, has, by the same process, arrived at opposite
conclusions.

Is it not, then, absurd to maintain, that, when

these scholars unite in making a new translation of the disputed
words or passages, they will, or can, free themselves from the

l

sectarian opinions which have b.een founded upon their under-

i

standing of the disputed passages, and this understanding

i

'

IJ

founded upon the most careful and accurate examination which
. r'

their scholarship would enable them to make ?
"It must be evident, then, if a new translation of the Scriptures were attempted, that scholars of each sect would insist

I

l

Ii l

upon the signification which they give to disputed words, or
the readings which they adopt as being the correct ones, and
that, consequently, the whole attempt would fail, or, each sect

.. j

would have a version of its own.

Take, as an instance, the

word 'baptism,' upon the mere signification of which are
founded two great and dividing doctrines; the advocates of
'

l

one contending that it should be translated 'to immerse,' those
of the other 'sprinkle' or some equivalent word.

Now, can it

be imagined that it will ever be possible for these equally able
scholars to come to any agreement upon the subject ?
"The same would also be the case with regard to interpolations and omissions ; the scholars of the different sects being
h ere no less ·divided than as to the signification of certain
words.

And so as to different readings.

" If, then, a new translation for common use be once

I
.e ;;,.
I
~

1

'.

41
attempted, a precedent once set for tampering with the Bible,
we shall soon see each sect provided with a separate version, in
which not only the disputed words will be translated so as to
suit their peculiar views, and those readings retained which
favor particular doctrines, but with regard to what are called
interpolations and omissions, there will be the most mangled
work.

Nay, who knows but that, in process of time, when

each sect shall have a translation of its own, individuals might
claim this privilege, and thus the Bible be twisted and altered
to suit the views and practices of each.
" Before proceeding farther, it is necessary to bear in mind
the wide distinction between the signification of words, or
meaning in dictione, and the sense of words, or meaning extra
dictionem.

" Now, even if it were possible to decide to the satisfaction
of all concerning the disputed signification of words, different
readings, interpolations and omissions, still would the proposed
advantage of the union and agreement of the sects be far from
being realized ; as most of the different doctrines of the day,
and some of them, too, upon which are founded the most

violent divisions and sects, have nothing to do with the signification of any words, but are generally grounded solely upon

their various senses.

Instances occur in such passages as the

following: ' In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was
with God, and the Word was God.'
One.'

' I and my Father are

'My Father is greater than I.' 'I do nothing of Myself,
6

I

'

42

but as the Father hath taught Me, I speak these things.' 'That
all men should honor the Son even as they honor the Father.'
Among these passages, ancl the like, are those which form the
ground of belief of them who hold that our Savior was an inferior Being to God, and of them who believe Him to be a part
of the Divine Essence; two of the most conflicting and dividing
..

,

doctrines of the day, yet founded upon the sense, not the signiftccttion, of different words. In the passage 'Erw xa't

oIIan}(!

tY iuµtv,

I believe all are agreed as to the signification of the

~~v;

yet as to its sense it is one of the most controverted

word

in the whole Bible, especially when taken in connection with
1

l
I,;

other passages.

So, also, in the passages which are rendered in

I :

our translation, ' This is my Body,' and ' This is my Blood,'
upon the sense of the words are founded the two great doctrines
of transubstantiation and non-transubstantiation.

In the reply

of our Savior to the regenerate malefactor, ' To-day shalt thou
1~

be with Me in Paradise,' upon the sense of the words rests very
I
·I .

much the different doctrines with respect to the state of the
soul immediately after death.
" So we might go on to enumerate conflicting Joctrines
which depend solely upon the sense in which certain words are
r eceivecl
"Now, as the prerogatives of a translation extend merely to
the signification of words, even if it were a practical possibility
for this to be determined to general satisfaction, and thus to set
at rest the division of opinions as to their signification, still it

'

---==-----~----------------

43

would be impossible for a translation to determine the sense of
words, and consequently t o have any influence upon doctrines
based upon them.
" But, not only would an attempt at a new translation fail
of the proposed advantage, b ut would be likely to be fraught
with evils which would shake the whole fabric of the Church,
and pour corruption through all the channels of Society.

The

practical results of each sect having a peculiar version, which
we cannot but think to be the likely, if not the inevitable consequence of any serious attempt to tamper with our present
translation; its effects upon infidels, who are ever upon the alert
for every disagreement among Christians; and its effects upon
many Christians themselves, who might be led to .doubt the
Inspiration of a Work which they see in so many different
forms; and also the loose morals which would be apt to result
from the want of any fixed standard, are what can be better
pictured by the mind than described in language.
"Hitherto we have spoken more particularly of a new
translation in its bearings upon doctrinal passages ; but there

is another part of the Bible which also claims attention. It is
the devotional.
" Now, as a starting point, it is t o be remembered, that, as
there are forms of language which are peculiarly adapted to the
outbreakings of pious devotion, so also these same forms are
particularly calculated to awaken in others the same feelings by
which they were originally prompted.

How happily suited to

44

this end is the language employed m our translation of the
book of Psalms, and other books of like character.

How beau-

tiful are some expressions ! How sublime are others ! But
alter the language even so as still to preserve about the same
signification, and the whole charm may b e gone.

The body

may remain without the soul. The stern features may be left,
but the life-like expression, the oracle of the spirit, has fled.
An example of this may be seen in some recent translations of
the Psalms, the book of Job, and the Prophets, which, from the
ability of the scholar, we presume are somewhat more verbally
correct; yet, in many passages where the words of our translation are not employed, and where there is only a little variation,
I

• ~

l

they are rendered almost entirely void of that high devotional
and sublime spirit which characterizes the same in the received
version.

Shall we, then, to gain this proposed advantage of

greater correctness, run the risk of making so great a sacrifice ?
But even if gained at this sacrifice, can it be called greater
correctness?

Is a portrait more correct which gives truly th e

peculiar and life-like expression of the countenance, or one
which presents more exactly the characteristic features, but
without that animated look which distinguishes the living from
the deacl ? Let every one answer for himself.
"The ado which many make about verbal preciseness seems

I

to arise from a mistaken opinion of the nature of language, in
appearing to regard it as an end, when, in reality, it is only a

I

means.

I

I

vVhat is language in itself ?

Nothing.

It is onl y

45

when viewed as a means of conveying ideas that it becomes of
any value.

It is not the channel which is of importance, hut

the water that flows through the channel.

In a translation of

the Bible, especially of the devotional parts, that translation
must be most correct which preserves the high and elevated
spirit which constitutes their peculiar value ; and since that is
done in so admirable a manner in our present version, what
reason can there be for a new ?
"There are, however, other so called advantages of a different character, which, although as yet only proposed by a few
individuals, may hereafter be urged with great vehemence; as
we have seen a cloud increase from 'the size of a man's hand'
till it overcast the whole heaven.

One of these is making the

diction of the Bible conform to that in every day use ; or, in
other words, what some would call a more polished style.

For

instance, in speaking of Adam and Eve, instead of ' the man
said unto the woman,' to render it - ' the gentleman said to the
lady.'

And, in addressing our Saviour, to make the Disciples

say ' Sir,' and He, in addressing them, ' gentlemen' or ' sirs ; '
and so to change all expressions which differ from our common
idiom.
" But, could even this be clone, it would be one of the
greatest evils, as it would deprive the Bible, in a great measure,
of that air of sacredness and solemnity by which it is so happily
distinguished from all other books, and reduce its diction, at
once, to the frivolity of a novel.

46

" There are still other changes which some, from affectation,
contend for; a practical illustration of which we have sometimes
heard from the pulpit; as, for instance, instead of the word
'damnation,' to use the word 'confusion ; ' and in the passage
which now reads- ' If I make my bed in hell, behold Thou art
there,' to render' If I make my bed in the abyss,' or 'pit.'
Although we cannot say there is any particular evil in this, still
we cannot see any advantage.
"Others, again, actuated by false modesty, are in favor of
omitting certain words and passages which they fancy to be
corrupting to the morals of youth.

An expurgated edition of

the Bible ! ' 0 tempora, I 0 rnores I'

The most we can say is,

that it argues but little for the purity of their minds.
"Of all the proposed advantages that we know of, that of
the union of the sects is the most plausible, and the only one
which at all deserves serious consideration.

But, from the view

we have taken of the matter, we :find it impossible that they
ever should unite in opinions; and what is more, we believe it
was purposely and wisely ordained that men should not think
alike.

But, although they may not unite in opinion, they may

in friendship.
"Let Christian charity, and noble liberality, be taught from
the pulpit, and more good would result than even the most
infatuated ever dreamed could be brought about by a new
translation of the Bible. It is not scholastic union that is
needed. It is Christian union ; a union not of opinions, but of

·'

47
feelings; and, this once obtained, God alone could e::itimate the
blessings that would :flow from it.
"Harvard University, September 26th, 1850.
" ROBERT TROUP

p AINE."

His perseverance, as in his religious habits, was carried into
whatever he undertook. His :fidelity was unflinching. His
friendships ardent and confiding. His enjoyments being of the
moat innocent kind, his heart was always buoyant and happy,
and his countenance always denoted the serenity of his mind.
His presence scarcely failed to diffuse contentment and cheerfulness around him. It had been observed, however, within the
last year, that he seemed now and then dejected, though very
transiently, and without any known cause. It should be stated,
alSo~ that from his infancy to the last, whenever he was not

employed in conversation, study, or amusement his countenance

pGt,gn a deep thoughtfulness, often bordering UJJOlhIDYlancholy.
This, indeed, was sometimes so strongly pronounced within the
last two years, that his Mother occasionally inquired of him if
any thing had 'occurred to disturb his happiness. His features
would become immediately lighted up with a smile, and he
would exclaim, - " Why, Ma, should you think that I am not
happy? There is nothing in the world to make me unhappy."
Nature, as will be inferred from his writin s was the great
e studied her book, especially as it is
ited to all, and from his childhood. In his eleventh year,

48
I;

in a letter now before his Parents to one of his young relatives,
he says, - " When I am sitting alone, a tear will sometimes
come into my eyes when thinking of your delightful rambles in
the country ; but as I go to my studies, that passes away, and
all is joy and happiness."

In College he amused himself with

Chemistry, as laying open the inorganic world, and was President of the "Rumford Society," which has for its objects the
cultivation of Chemical Science.

Among his favorite Authors

were such as reveal the physical and moral conditions of life.
H e was therefore much attracted by Physiology.

History

engaged his attention particularly. Shakspeare, also, was much
read by him for the last year or two ; but he was never known
to have read other dramatic writers, except as rendered necessary by the study of the German Language.

:Milton was his

other principal favorite among the Poets, and he was familiar
with "Paradise Lost" at the age of fourteen years.

It may be

stated, also, that he had as great an aversion to Novels as t o
the Stage. Scott alone could engage his attention.

H e took

up "Chesterfield's Letters to his Son" at the request of a friend ,
but, as he stat ed to his Parents, he laid them aside on account
of their duplicity and immorality, remarking, also, that the conduct of the Son was a sufficient commentary upon t h e principles

of the Father.

H e had heard so much of Jenny Lind, and of

her benevolence, that he was attract ed to her first concert at
Boston, when he fancied that "there was something angelic in
her music," and could not refrain from attending the other two,

49

although he had not the usual allotment of taste for music, and

it was therefore a matter of surprise to his Parents. A letter
to his Mother, at the time, is descriptive of great enjoyment.
This was about four months before his death, and near the time
when he wrote the first of the Theses which occur in the
Memoir (Article 2 ).
The inquiring disposition of his mind was to investigate
laws and principles, rather than Jetails and abstract facts. He
was not, however, imaginative. On the contrary, he was
adverse to speculation, and submitted all propositions to the
test of facts as far as they had been well ascertained. This gave
to him n. logical precision, and protected him against credulity.
He hn.d great ability for mental application, and great power of
abstraction ; such, indeed, as are not often surpassed. He
wrote with great rapidity, often saying to his Mother that "his
thou hts outran 1liS en " · and he neve
·
i com ositions
either at the Grammar School or at Harv
His
reverence of truth was so great that he would defend what was
right in principle, however it might con-flict with individual or
public prejudice. In this respect his independence was unwavering, and it would probably have been carried through a
longer life in the same fearless manner. The consciousness of
his own purity was such that he would rarely attempt any
defence of him.self when erroneously suspected of having
departed from the right; but where he had not scrupulously
fulfilled a duty, he would at once disclose it, though no instance

50

can be recollected which amounted to a fault.

Although such

occasions had been rare, and of a trifling nature, his Father
wrote early to President Everett in regard to this singularity of
his disposition ; that, if suspected of doing wrong, his silence
might not be too readily construed against him; but that he
might depend upon his ready confession of any error.

He had

seemed always to his Parents to have been, as it were, spellbound by every injunction delivered by our Saviour; and that,
in the foregoing respect, he acted in obedience to the example
when Jesus "was accused of the chief priests and elders, He
answered nothing."
Robert's attachment to his Parents was unusually ardent,
and his kindness and benevolence extended to every thing, as
will appear from his writings.

He had always a great reve-

rence for old age, and was devotedly fond of his grandparents.
A mildness of disposition, and great amiability, were his most
conspicuous characteristics.

To his Parents he was constantly a

moral phenomenon, having proved himself to them to have
been endowed with the highest order of virtues, and without
fault or blemish.

So gre:::,t was his equanimity, that he was

never known by theIJ.1 to have manifested anger, nor did he
ever exhibit to them an act, or utter a word, of disrespect ; and
this they have reason to think is true in relation to all others.
vVith his Seniors he manifested, from childhood, the dignity of
a man, and joined in youthful mirth with his equals, or engaged
in simple sports with children to his latest day.

This will

51
account, in a measure, for the production of the Poem which
appears at the close of the Memoir.
It has been seen, from his own writings, that his piety
remained unalloyed to the last ; nor could it be entertained
that there should have been a sudden declension in a case like
the one before us, and where every other habit, and all his conversation, continued to be distinguished for their excellence and
purity.

His Parents recur to this subject, as it is an important

one, and as it appears from the Correspondence that Robert
was anxiously deliberating upon his profession during the week
prior to his death.

Law and Medicine are alone mentioned,

while Divinity had been his favorite object. It becomes proper,
therefore, that this should be explained.

He was fearful that

the schisms in the Church would involve him in disquietude,
and he turned with great aversion from what he considered a
prevailing want of Religion in the Pulpit.

This, however, was

only recently manifested, and evidently grew out of his sensitiveness upon that subject; and the conflict which was going
on in his mind as to the choice of a profession was probably
one of the causes of that overthrow of reason which led t o his
death.
It appears, however, that he was thinking of Divinity for
his profession to the last of his life. His Parents have thi.S information from their friend Miss Parker, obtained at an interview with her after the receipt of her letter which appears in
the Memoir.

Within a day or two of his death he asked her

52
opinion of his qualifications for the Pulpit, and remarked, at the
same time, that his friends had e}..-pected him to study Divinity,
but that he was undecided about it.

His Parents have no

doubt that such would have been his choice, had his life been
spared.

v\Titbin a few clays of his death, he remarked to his

Mother that, "the profession of medicine had too many pains,
and the law too little honesty."

He was also told on the same

occasion, that, if he wished to study a profession at Cambridge,
to which place he was much attached, bis Parents would remove to that city, and live with him there ; that his Father
would give up his practice, but retain his professorship.

At

this suggestion he manifested great pleasure.
His Parents now approach the last days of their son.

He

fell by an act against which, but a little before, he had recorded
his solemn protest (Article 2), and which was at variance with
every circumstance of his life.
From what has already transpired there appears to have
been a universal conviction _of his insanity, and such was the
verdict of the Coroner's Jury.

It is not, therefore, so much an

object, in printing the following correspondence, to strengthen
this belief, as to show th e a1)l'uptness of the seizure, and to present it as one of the startling problems of the human mind;
while, at the same time, the correspondence di"Scloses the habitual deportment of the Youth as manifested to the world, and
embraces many details supplied by the Parents, which have
been reserved for this part of the Memoir.

These details, like

others in the Memoir, can derive an interest only from the light
which they reflect upon the mel:;i,ncholy event, by showing the
instantaneousness with which false perceptions will spring up
without any other apparent cause than some obscure physical
evil, and overthrow the supremacy of reason, and extinguish
all the most hallowed associations of an enlightened and spotless life.
In the mean time it may be stated, as will appear more circumstantially in the correspondence, that Robert always protected his health and his life with a carefulness which is very
unusual at any age ; and at a late period he avowed this regard
for life as a solemn duty.

About two months before his death,

he had an argument, in presence of his Mother, with some of
his fellow-boarders at Cambridge, upon the duty of every man
to protect his life under all possible circumstances which might
threaten it.

He insisted that it is not only the first law of Na-

ture, but that life is the great final cause of God in creating the
Universe; and, therefore, to neglect the means of averting impending death is the great est crime.

We are justified, he said,

in shooting down the highwayman, and, therefore, in all other
modes of self-defence which are as free from criminality.
At the close of the first term of his Senior year, he left
Cambridge with his Mother, on the 16th of January, and after
remaining at home till the 28th, he departed on a journey to
Virginia, from which he returned to New-York twelve days
before his death, which took place on the 8th of March.

Ill

I

!
!11

. 54

:ill
I
I

I
l'J
il1

The following letters, written during his absence, will show
how he was employed, what the nature of his best enjoyments,
though in the season of winter and in solitude, and what his
latest attachments to life.

111
I

!II

ROBERT TO HIS FATHER.
" HARPER'S FERRY,

:1

vA.,

"Saturday Morning, Feb. l, 1851.

I
'

" DEAR FATHER :-Here we are, the cold weather and I,

ii

safe and sound.

I

I

I arrived at Philadelphia in due time after I

left you, putting up at the 'United States Hotel.'

The next

morning I spent in looking at the city.
1l 1

"The low stoops and white shutters presented a cunous
aspect.

!I

The latter brought to my mind New-York in former

iI

days. About as New-York was then Philadelphia is now, and
when the latter becomes what the former now is, New-York

II

will have overtaken London.

I

ment.

·III

place is a burlesque upon its name, it contains the principal

•I

I

object in Philadelphia really worth seeing-the water-works.

:!1

They consist essentially of eight huge water-wheels, each con-

l

I went to Fairmount.

Such is the course of improveAlthough the appearance of the

I

11

I

nected with a pump by which the water is forced up into a

'

large basin excavated in the solid rock.

:1

The works are capable

of forcing up 3,000 gallons a minute (4,320,000 a day).

II

They

are worked eighteen hours a day ; so that the city consumes,

55

daily, 3,240,000 gallons. This shows that before many years
the works will be very inadequate, unless they can be much
enlarged.
· "At 3 o'clock I to0k the boat for Baltimore, had a delightful sail, arriving at half-past-six next morning.
all the places of interest.
piece of architecture.

I visited, here,

The Washington Monument is a fine

It consists of a pedestal twenty feet high,

which is ascended by twenty-eight steps.

From this a shaft

runs up one hundred and sixty feet, which has a flight of one
hundred and ninety-eight steps.

As there is no window all the

way up, it seems quite dismal till one arrives at the summit,
when a most glorious view opens upon him, where all the world
seems lying below.

Surmounting the shaft is a statue of Wash-

ington, thirteen feet high.

This terminates the monument,

which is the pride of Baltimore, and, I believe, one of the finest
pieces of architecture in this country.

I went to the Cathedral,

the largest in the United States. It is a fine building.
about it no finical or ostentatious work.

It has

It is well lighted by

windows in the dome ; but these are concealed from the observer so as .to give an air of solemnity.

I also visited the shot-

tower, and saw the process of making shot.
"Yesterday morning (Friday), at 8 o'clock, I took the cars,
and arrived at this place at half-past-twelve.

It lies imme-

diately at the foot of two high bluffs, on either side of the Potomac. All yestflrday afternoon I spent in climbing. When I
reached the top of the bluff, I was well compensated ; for the

56

scene (although not what I had expected) is quite beautiful,
especially as you look up the valleys of the Shenandoah and
Potomac; and where are seen these united streams wandering
among the hills I had expected to have found the scenery wild,
but it can scarcely be so considered.

I expected to find the

rivers foaming and dashing ; but they pursue a gentle course,
with wide and shallow beds, forming quite a beautiful but not a

wild scene. I said to the toll-gatherer, pointing to the bluff
which overhung us - 'there must be a magnificent view up
there ! '-'Yes,' said he, 'you have a fine view of the town' (an
unsightly place); from which I inferred that it requires education to appreciate Nature.
"You may form some idea of the weather, when I tell you
I washed this morning, not in ice-water, but in water-ice.
"To-day I leave for Winchester, where I take the stage for
W eyer's Cave.
" Your affectionate Son,
" ROBERT TROUP

" P. S.

p AINE.

The squirrel needs some walnuts, or hazel-nuts.

She was out of them when I left."*

*

This squirrel had been a pet of his for many years before he entered College,
and was often remembered in his letters from Cambridge.

...
l

57

ROBERT TO HIS MOTHER.

"HARRISONBURG, VA.,

l.

~

M'"'

. ~-.
'

1

Feb. 3, 1851.

" DE.AR MoTHER : - Ah ! here I am, sitting by a wood fire,

which looks as cheerful as you can imagine.
"I wrote Pa from Harper's Ferry, from which I took my

' departure on Saturday; went to Winchester, thirty-two miles,

· ~·/ by railroad, for which I paid two dollars ; (did you ever hear
~ f_;, of such a fare ?) At W. I staid over Sunday. Left vV. this
. morning at three o'clock ; had a delightful ride by stage, sixty~,. ~e

miles, to this place.

It was, unfortunately, cloudy, so as to

,, debar me from a view of the mountains.

We passed through

'. i~~e great Virginia Valley, on the bed of one of Pa's Lctke8,
' much of which is very fine country.
"I have now seen considerable of the slave population.
, ',They all appear happy ; but this argues for the worse.

It

. '•

~· denotes

a most abject state of mind to be contented with

·, slavery.

This is partly owing to their natural inferiority,

\

.

-

'·' but greatly, I imagine, to the continued effects of slavery
'· 'tself.
"But there is something worse than slavery here.

The

i great number of mulattoes and quaclroons plainly bespeaks the

1
. prevalence of a greater crime, and one most disgusting in its
which places many of the whites really lower than the
Slavery is a strange institution for a country that
8

/

58

makes any pretension to Christianity or civilization.

But this

is too shocking for man's most savage state. -r.·
"There is another remarkable thing I have observed ; that
all the Southerners, whom I have seen thus far, are very small
eaters.

The usual time spent in eating is - seven or eight

minutes for breakfast, fifteen minutes for dinner, and five

*

In Robert's copy of the Rev. Professor Stuart's P amphlet on Slm·cry, (~<'<'

Article 1, page 21,) several passages are marked by him, with marginal rommc1it:;.
Among them is the following paragraph and comment :
"An intermeddling with civil relations or rights would have been dcenwd !'<'dition.

Slavery was one of these relations.

H ence, if Christ, or Pau~ or I'd,'r, h:1,!

said to masters, ' Set your slaves i =ediately free,' the answer would h:iw hrc'll,
' VVho made thee a ruler or a judge over us ? Cease to preach sedition. ,,r ''"" will
immediately bring you before the magistrate.' There were always m:l5h' l">' <'ll<>n;:-h
ready to say and do this ; and then, what was to become of the infant c~rn''' ,,f Chri>tianity ? The whole power of the Roman government would have lx'c'll brc'llf!"ht
down upon it, to crush it in the bud, and never to suffer it again tc' ri''' np."
Page 55.
Robe1t did not: think that it was any fear of such a consequencC' th:it dc'h'm'l
Christ and his Apostles from interfering with slavery; and he wn,tc' the' ,;,!l,n1 i 11,_:·
comment on the margin of the pamphlet :
" Can we suppose, for a moment, that H e Who could comm:ind

nW!\'

th:rn tw,,:,,,

legions of angels could act under the influence of fear of any e:irthl~- tri\>1rn:1 ~ l\" h,it
·became of Ch1istianity, let me ask Dr. Stuart, ,,·hen the whole ''""rhl "'1.' :1rr.1~,,l
against it, and the whole force of despotic power was brought to c•ru:'.l1 i: ' P i,'. i:
not float like a cork upon the waters of tribulation ? But does not St. r:m! >:1~ . · l ~·
not ye serrnnts of men' ? Dr. Stuart says nothing about this."
Farther on in the Pamphlet (page 112), Dr. Stuart urges the <'d1h':ili-\l: ,,:· ~-.x::~
blacks.

H ere Robmt exclaims, in the margin, "High and noble sl.'.utj1:k' nt>: ~

59

minutes for supper ; and I am not exaggerating when I say a
Virginian does not appear to eat much more in a week than a
Northerner eats in a day.
" W eyer's Cave is fourteen miles from here.

I shall set

out to-morrow morning at six o'clock, on horseback, as there
are no public conveyances.
" Your affectionate son,
" ROBERT TROUP

p .A.INE."

ROBERT TO HIS FATHER.
" WHITE SULPHUR SPRINGS,

v .A..,

"February 9, 1851.

F .A.THER : · I arrived here last night, and was glad
to get a letter from Ma saying you were both well. I wrote
" DEAR

from Harper's Ferry and Harrisonburg.
"Since my last I have made quite a progress in my journey,
and have seen what I have long wished to see, W eyer's Cave.
" It is indeed a curiosity.

Although in eA.'ient it is not to

be compared with the Kentucky Cave, it is said to be superior
in the beauty and variety of its formations.

Its extent is 1600

feet, and it contains twenty-three chambers, most of which have
taken names from the fanciful forms they exhibit.
" The first room is the ' Statuary.' As you enter this, you
see before you a thick cluster of stalagmites, which, at a little
distance, present very much the appearance of statues. Farther

--- -~

60

on, you come to ' Solomon's Temple ' ; it should be Palace, as it
is named from an immense throne, some forty feet high. Just
to the left is a very beautiful formation, representing a waterfall.

The great mass is covered with a brown incrustation,

while down its sides is the pure carbonate of lime, of the
appearance of foaming water.
in the Cave.

This is one of the finest things

Going to the other end of this room, you learn

something new concerning the ' "'Wise Man.'

You learn that he

was a good marketer; for, looking into' Solomon's Meat House,'
you see depending from the ceiling a fine ' Leg of Mutton.'
The brown stalactite representing the lean portions, and the
white the fat. The resemblance is perfect.
"In the' Diamond Room,' aloft in the crags of the rocks, is
a formation called the' White Crane.' The resemblance here,
also, is perfect.
" In the ' Ball Room' is a stalactite formation called the
'Bass-Drum,' which, when beaten with the fist, is capable of
emitting the various tones of that instrument; so that, when a
ball is held in this apartment, it is played to accompany the
band. On the opposite side is a large Gallery, where seats can
be placed for spectators.
"In the 'Armory' is a large stalactite called the 'Shield of
Ajax.' It is at an angle of about forty-five degrees with the
ceiling, and is one of the most wonderful things in the cave.
The question is, how did it form at that angle ? I have not time
now to t ell you my theory, but will do it when I get home.

Gl
"The principal apartment is 'Washington's Hall,' 257 feet
long. In the centre of this is a large statue, which you imagine
to .be Washington's.

In another part is a large formation

resembling the wing of an Eagle.

vVith singular appropriate-

ness, the hall also contains a stalactite in the shape of an
'Inverted Crown.'
"The last chamber goes by the name of 'Jefferson Hall.'
This contains a stalagmite of immense dimensions, which has
received t.he name of the 'Tower of Babel.'

On one side it

resembles that as much as any thing ; but on the other you
have before you a beautiful cascade. In another part of the hall
is a stalactite resembling a huge 'Oyster Shell,' being at quite
an angle with the ceiling.

At some distance from this, among

a thick cluster of stalagmites, is a delightful spring of water.
"The Cave abounds, every where, with Gothic structures,
and drapery, often arranged in the most graceful folds.

In one

room this is so abundant that it is known as the ' Tapestry
Room.'
"Your feelings while in these submundane regions are those
: of mingled solemnity and wonder; of solemnity, as you now work

r your way through the dark and narrow passages, sometimes

Ji.early creeping; now, find yourself in an immense hall, where
~:; ~e rocks, towering one above another, are lost in the gloom
}"above ; now listen to the regular pattering of the droppings
;~.'fro~. the ceiling, and now direct your attention to the voice of
. th~ gUides reverberating through the hollow chasms; of won-

1

1.

T

62
der, as you now survey the varied formations around you, some
of them of the most fanciful shapes ; now reflect that, although
some of the masses are immense, yet they were all formed by
the gradual chopping and evaporation of water, which goes on
so slowly that scarcely any alteration can be perceived since the
discovery of the Cave in 1804.

This, too, gives you some idea

of time.
"I leave here for the Natural Bridge to-morrow morning at
four o'clock (eighty miles).
" Your affectionate Son,
" RoBERT TuoUP P.A.INE."

ROBERT TO HIS FATHER.

" W .A.SHINGTON, February 17, 1851.

" DE.AR F .A.THER : - I wrote Mother last week fro;m. the
Natural Bridge, and gave her as good an account as I could of
that grand object.* I left there Thursday, and stayed at Richmond Saturday night.

Left R. yesterday morning, and arrived

here about six o'clock last evening, where I found Green and
another Classmate awaiting my arrival at the wharf.
"I have a fine room at the 'National,' for which I am much
indebted to Green, as he waited a day on purpose to save it
for me.

*

This Letter has not been received; but one written from the Natural Bridge

to his Classmate, Mr. Browne, appears in another part of the Memoir.

63
' '.''~ 'Every nook and corner of every Hotel is taken (some

n:is having three or four occupants), and the private houses
., also becoming filled. I consider myself extremely fortunate;

rthis ·is. the great Hotel of the City, where Clay and many
_· er distinguished men board.

Samuel has left this morning .

•"To resume the history of my journey.
\he Cave.

..

~

I stayed two days

I should like to have stopped much longer to

reconnoitred more fully this interesting object, and as I

; too, most agreeable quarters at Mr. Mohler's, who is an
. ·"ceeding1y attentive, intelligent arrd worthy man. I brought

*''

~·".away a bag full of minerals.

}r : "Thence I left for the White Sulphur Springs (one hundred
1

d twenty miles).
: . H The first object of particular interest was the Warm
~ngs.

The stage stopped here an hour and a half.

I should

ye stopped a day ; but in that case I should have been
YJ.ined three days. The temperature of the water is ninety~t degrees. The water contains considerable sulphuretted
drogen, and several other substances.
forms a brown
tie-deposit, of which I have a specimen. There are several
uta inclosed in basins, the largest of which is one hundred
' d 1 twenty feet in circumference and seven or eight feet deep
;i'Jl '
•
a magmficent bath), and the volume of water is so large as to
ll~W it every half hour. Perhaps nowhere else in the world
. . ~.b.e seen so large a quantity of heated water. It is an
'·wshing sight.

It

64

" Five miles from the Warm are the Hot Springs, which
have a temperature of one hundred and six degrees and will
cook an egg.

Here, also, are several spouts, but the volume of

water is much smaller, and the principal bath is only seventy:five feet in circumference.

This water contains no sulphuretted

hydrogen, and forms no deposit.

The situation of both is in

mountain glens, but that of the Warm is far pleasanter.
" I arrived, at length, at the far-famed White Sulphur,
where I stayed over Sunday.

It is a place very void of inte-

rest, completely shut up by the Alleghanies, which are usually
called mountains, but which, in fact, are only moderate sized
hills.

They cut off entirely your view, without having any

attraction in themselves.
odorous waters.

The place is remarkable only for its

Conceive a basin four or :five feet in diameter

and three or four deep, :filled with water which has stood over
the :fire some minutes, and impregnated with the essence of
decayed eggs; conceive, also, this water depositing upon the
leaves and stones in its channel a soft white substance, and you
have all that can be said of the White Sulphur.
" On my way to the Bridge I got out of the stage to taste
of the Sweet Spring water.

I may compare it to soda-water

which has stood over the fire till its temperature is raised to
seventy or eighty degrees.
"To-morrow I visit Mt. Vernon.
" Your affectionate Son,
" ROBERT TROUP

p .A.INE."

65

~~~'·'ef ~ Robert returned to New-York greatly delighted with his

~.Jgurney.

, fri

He now employed himself actively in visiting his

ends· and the day on which he left he was attracted to an

'

~ elegant Cosmorama, and was so much delighted with the natu-

1

i·~;· ·ral views that he urged his Mother to go and enjoy the specta-

~1cle as soon as her health would

admit.

One of his last move-

.·. ments was that of a visit to his Mother's Portrait, which was
,'l·. then in the hands of the Artist. "While at home he wrote, also,
I

he Article, already mentioned (page 28), for a vVashington
three days at home, he hurried back to
ambridge on the 26th of February.

His Parents suggested

,, him, that, " as this was his last t erm at College, and near the

,!

)

end of the week, he had better remain at home till Monday,"

the 8d of March; but he was desirous, as he always had been,
l

...being promptly at his post, "on the day when the ter.m
1

an," which was the 27th of February:

He remarked, also,

t' he "should be at home again soon" (during the short vaca-

~.~ll in May); and it was his Father's intention to visit him at
; &fuibridge as early as the middle of March.

On parting with
Mother, he said to her, - " Don't grieve, Mother, for I shall
On riding down to the boat, which
'.¥ ~ carry him on his way, he expressed great apprehension
' . ut his Mother's health, which was much impaired, and said
·". . . his'
. . Father, - " Come early to Cambridge, as I shall be
• US to see my Grandmother" (who was at Haverhill, forty
{

9

66

miles distant). "Be at Cambridge on a Saturday, as I can then
go with you to Haverhill and return to Cambridge on Monday,
so that I shall not be absent from any College duties."

Soon

after reaching Cambridge, it was his intention to have written
upon one of the " Boylston Prize-questions," and to have forwarded the Article to his Mother for the purpose of being
copied by her.
On reaching Cambridge, he addressed to his Mother the
following letter.
"CAMBRIDGE,

February 27, 1851.

"DEAR MoTHER : - I arrived in Cambridge this morning
all safe and sound.

Mrs. Clarke
and Miss Parker make many inquiries after you and Pa.*
" Nothing new. Tell Pa that I left his cleaning-rod (gunrod) upon a chair in my bedroom.
" I think you will get the letter from the Natural Bridge, as
a letter has arrived here which I wrote from that place.
(( Your affectionate Son,
"Every body is glad to see every body again.

" ROBERT TROUP

p .A.INE."

Both of his Parents had subsequently addressed him
letters. His Mother's was filled with congratulations on the

*

Mrs. Clarke is the widow of a Clergyman, and with whom Robe1t had long
boarded. . It was also in ·this happy and enlightened family that his Mother had
resided.

.... ..
•'

67

' ~bt

prospect.a · before him, and the admirable reputation

. :.V:bich rhe had already won for h~sel£ The first of these
..
· ieiters
was received by him on the 3d of March, and the other
.,.

•' ' tf\•
.

e~"·the 5th or 6th. . The following is the one written .by his

<F~ther. ·:. The latter part .refers to a nfwspaper ·article which
;~,'Robert had inclosed, without comment, in his letter to his
.~'!fMother.

.:J.

·
"NEw-YoRK, Ma1l'clb 2, 1851.

1.\.;;-.

·,•r:

: <. "MY

DEAR

RoBERT:-We were glad to receive your letter

of the 27th, yesterday, and to hear of your safe arrival. The
.relaxation you have enjoyed will give you great vigor for your
studies, upo:n which I suppose you have entered with renewed
zeal. · A little time more, and you will be upon a new theatre
of life. I am rejoiced to know that your opportunities have
been well improved, and that- you have laid the foundation for
.

.... ~

.

'

= future usefulness and fame. That has been my great aim ever
since you came into being. The gratifying prospect contributes
much to maintain your Mother's health. She has begun a
letter to you, and had intended to have finished it this evening,
but has been interrupted · by visitors. Her general health is
very good, and I think. that the
iodine is-having a good effect
.
upon the· local affection.
"As to the article from the newspaper, it is very well written ; but it does not relate to the subject which it professes to
treat. It simply discusses the abstract question as to our right
.

68
of enslaving the Negro.
;1'

Every one will agree with the writer.

There is no difference of opinion between him and all intelligent

I
I

slaveholders.

It is, however, but a mere piece of sophistry.

The question should have been connected with the consideration of slavery as it exists in this country, and it would then
have appeared that there is no mode of extricating ourselves
from the evil without incurring others of a thousand-fold greater
magnitude.

"

1:'·
''

Not only does every body agree with the writer

11

upon the abstract question, lJut the laws of the United States

1:!i.1

interdict the introduction of slaves from abroad, and even their

'""I'

traffic by Americans with foreign countries, under the penalty
of death.
" Your affectionate father,
" J\fATITYN
I
I

.j

p AINE."

"

I

'l'he next information they had of their son was by tele-

1!

graphic message, announcing bis death on the 8th of March.

1!

I·

:1.

'I 1.

I~

His remains were brought to New-York; and entombed m

I
!1

·1l:

I'

St. P aul's Church-yard,·>:- followed by a large concourse of

II

I ~

,.,

'!'

friends.

I

I

The funeral services were performed at St. Mark's Church

,1

J!i

~ I'
::j

I

ii
I
I

by his earJy friend, the ReY. Dr. Anthon.
Through the sympathy and kindness of the Hev. Dr. An-

ii

I

I•

I·

I

1!;11·

l;'l jJi,i'

I .,
'

'!1:

I

I I11.'ll'
'I,

'1'

Tlicy will be ultimately rcmorcd to Mount

wliicl1 was his farnrite walk.

~\uLnrn

Cemetery, at CamLriclgc,

1j \)

thon, the follo,ving ul)it11ary notice :tppeare1l in t he newspapers,
and in D r. Iteese~.s ''ii lnv-Y oil: ::\l e1lical Chzettc."

'"HIE U.TE f: ODETIT TlWlJP r_l..JXE.

':The suclcl en

1le~1th

of }fr. P,line, in the p rime :1.11<1 bloom

1if youth, is one of those

cl.isp e n.~at ions

Pro 1·illence which Ltlls \vith

of

<l

wi.:;e and in:::crnbble

O\"Cl"id1drni11~· "· c i~·ht

upon :-;urviv-

i 11 vn· friend:::, but mo::;t es1)eciallv
• ll"it1 in tlwt domestic circle of

which he ·was the sole earthlv hope and 1l elird1t. .Memorials of
"
~
t lie departed, under such 1.;ircnmstances, are •)ft times Yie11·eL1 as
pictures drawn from frmcy, without any original in real life.
But in this case, one who was no stranger to his worth, a:o:ks the
nwlancholy privilege of joining in the great

~tnd

very sore

lamentation around his early grave, and otl:ering a b rief testimony t o his character.
" H e was kno·wn to me from his first years, as an only chikl,
of delicate frame, more than once r est or ed to parental watchfulness and care, as it wer e, from the brink of the gra ve, and with
improving health, exhibiting very soon r emarkable intelligence,
thirst for knowleclge, and power of mental acquisit ion.

F ew

yo uths sooner form habits of like application, or ban deYot ecl
themselves more k eenly and successfully to study, ancl Yery few
can leave beliind t hem a more Yi vid recollection of filial reverence and affectio11 such as his, in that h ome where hopes 1,t \'C
been crushed, w11id 1 here can never h e revived.

Pre,·ions t o

:.i.

•.

1.

70

his leaving this city for Harvard University, about four years

: [I

. II

since, he frequ ently attended at St. Mark's Church, and our
acquaintance strengthened.

H e came at times to my study,

and pleased me so much by his general deportment, thoughtful
1!1

';

cast of mind, and pious sentiments and feelings, that I felt war-

/i·lil!r.,,:

ranted and encouraged in drawing his attention to the subject
of the Christian ministry.
"At Harvard University his studies were prosecuted with
his accustomed ardor and diligence, whilst his whole conduct
was marked by that amiable temper, and high-minded uprightness and integrity which impart such interest to the youthful
character.

His course, indeed, was uniformly such as to justify

the fondest expectations of those whose love circled around his
existence, until within the past year, when my young friend
manifested symptoms of mental depression, but which, however,
was of short duration.

With recovered health and spirits, and

after spending a part of the past winter at the south, he had
but recently returned to Cambridge, full of hope and ardor, to
complete his term as an undergraduate of the Senior cb ss.
"It was there that the mournful calamity occurred, on the
8th instant, which has plunged so many into the bitterness of
grief; a calamity, so far as those can judge who knew him lJest,
r esulting probably from the great and undue t ension put upon
the mental powers by youthful effort, anxious to win the closing
honors of a bright academic course, and to bear its laurels to
the home which he so highly prized, and where he was so

71
dearly loved.

~fany,

very many, are the friends whose hearts

have been wrung; by the sad tidings of his death.

It is hut

clue to them, aml to the memory of my yo ung friend, that I
should say that I have heard from both of his Parents the most
earnest declarations that their Son has ever been, 'in his religious views, in morals, and in habits, all that they could have
desired, aml that they can reca11 no instance of his departure
from the strictest course of probity and virt ue.'
''.Under a bereavement so desolating as this, man feels his
utter weakness to help the broken in heart.
source of consolation and support.

There is only one

lVIay it be . tasted in its

fulness and richness by those who need it most.

' Goel is

oit1 •

1·efuge cmcl strength ctncl very p1·esent hehJ in time of tr01.lble.
L et 1ts 1·etiw·n itnto the L ord, for rie hath to1·n ctncl rie will heal

'1.lS ; rie ha.th .smitten Ctncl H e rwill bind 1.lS 'lip .'

" H.

ANTHON.

" St. :Mark's Rectory, :March 13th, 1851."

" The following Thesis, written and handed in to the Professor only two clays before his death, is introduced as a farther
confirmation of the absence of all premeditation of self-destruction.

THESIS-ARTICLE V.
. ·11·
'.·

'

I•.

'

" 'A PICTURESQUE COUKTRY I N 'l'IIE EYE OF A NATIVE AND A

·T,

STRANGER '

"Although it cannot be said of the beauties of N atm e that
familiarity begets dislike, it needs lJut little experience to know,
that, even those scenes which present the greatest charms t o
the Stranger, lose somewhat, at least, of their interest, as Le
becomes accustomed to them.
" The appreciation of Nature, however, seems to depend
more upon the character and ment al powers of the individual
than upon any extraneous circumstances. To a mind that has
b een unfolded lJy education, exercised in its contemplative or
imaginative faculties, N atm e is ever, and every where, a Theatre
of delight.
"The lJeauties of American scenery, and the sulJlimities of
the Himalaya or the Alps, afford a thousand sulJjects for the
pen of a Milton, or the pencil of :m Apelles. To such minds
they e:m never fail of the deepest attraction, and must for
ever call forth the loftiest :flights of genius ; while t o men of
reflection a scene of lJe:rnty or grandeur is pregnant with the
seeds of thought, 'with whose l)eauty, if they, lJeing delighted,
took them to be gods, let t hem kno'Y how much l>etter the
Lord of them is, for the first Author of Ben,uty l1n,s cren,tecl
them.'

" On the othel' hand, external Natul'o has a very difterent
interest to him who has been deprived of opportunities to
develope his mental faculties.

H e looks upon the majestic oak,

and the revereml elm, whose t rnnks contain the pith of two
hundred summers, only to e::;timate the pecuniary value of the
wood.

Beyond this they are unworthy of his notice. The

grandest, sublimest portions of Natui·e are observed by him
only to calculate how far they will contribute to his bodily subsistence. Y oncler wild and towering mountain is considered by
him only with reference to its minernl treasures ; or he casts
upon it a silent look of regret that its rugged sides afford no
pasture for his :flocks.

Pressed by the iron hand of necessity

and want, his mind is low and grovelling, his desires sordid, his
ideas material (if I may use the expression) .
nothing has any interest for him.

Beyond this,

The charms, the poetry of

Nature, are unthought, undreamed of, a mere nonentity! !
"A very good i1lustration of this is said to be seen on the
bark of a tree near Niagara Falls, where are recorded the r e:fiections of a Clergyman upon the stupendous scene before him,
follow ed by those of a tailor, who exclaims, - ' Oh! what a
place to sponge a coat ! '
"Not long since I stopped at Harper's F erry, to observe the
scenery where the Potomac ancl Shenandoah pass through the
Blue Ridge. The place from which the best view could be had
was a very high and steep bluff, on the opposite side of the
Shenandoah.

While paymg toll to cross the river, I made
10

74
some exclamation to the man as to the view I should have from
the top of the bluff (at the same time pointing to it).

' Yes,'

sai.d he, 'you will have a very good view of the town;' ·which

i
I

II

consists of a few humble dwellings.
"The same thing is observable from the fact, that many,
living

neai~

some of the grandest \Vorks of Nature, have never

visited them.

There are said . to be many who have long

resided within a few miles of Niagara FalJs, who have not the
curiosity even to have seen them once.
"vVhen, lately, I visited \Veyer's Cave, wending along on
horseback through a strange country, and when within five
miles of the Cave, I was obliged to inquire my way of three
inhal)itants of that region.

They were all ignorant of there

being such a place, and one of them told me he did not know
of any man by the name of \Veyer's Cave.

" If we examine the facts which present themselves to every
traveller, and the principles which I have deduced, I think we
are justified in saying that the insensibility so often displayed
wh ere Nature abounds with works which arouse the soul of th e
enlightened man, arises not from familiarity, but from a much
deeper cause -the mental character of the individuals. In
"·ilc1 uncl sequestered. spots, where N uture presents the glories
of her outward form, there is al ways the untutore<l mind, human nature in its 101,·est condition.
" Familiarity, to be sure, as I before said, may exert some
influence.

Let the educated man, of whatever farn:y, or occu-

pation, pass a loug sen es of years at N iagara Falls, he must
ultimately lose so me of the interest which enchanted him at
first; b ut the sce ue ·wo uld never cease to be food fo r a moo;t
glowing imagination, a subj ect for the deepest contemplation.
That which wears away is merely that which is due to
novelty.
" So, on the other hand, transplant an ignorant Irishman
from his hut to the glories of the.. Tropics, or to the grand
Alpine scenery, some degree of sw7n"ise might come over him
at first ; b ut he would remain a stranger for ever to those
higher emotions which are felt by the eclucatecl man.
"Cambriclge, March 6th, 185 1.
" RonERT TRour P .ar:N:r:."

The following is the Correspondence t o which reference has
been already made.

The Letters from Cambridge form the

most important part of the Memoir, as showing how well
Robert's habits corresponded with the principles which pervade
his writings, and as it is rather the life of an individual about
which we are interested, than the manner of his death; though
the Letters reflect a consolatory Jight upon the latter.

:I

76
: '

"I'
[,

EX'l' RACT OF A LETTER FlWM :MRS. JII. J. CLARKE (THE LADY WITH
WHOM HOBERT BOAHDED) TO HIS MOTHER.

" CAMBRIDGE, MASS., ~March
"DEAR

'

11
,, '

'I'

Mns. PAINE :-It is with a trembling heart and

hand that I take my pen to address a few lines to you on the
subj ect of your late severe trial and bereavement.

.1:1:I

l,1

[,

'I"

•

12, 1851.

Conscious

of my utter inability to impart any consolation to a heart
so deeply affect ed as yours, I can only assure you that I have
seldom, if ever, had my sympathies so deeply drawn forth, and
that I should be rejoiced as well as r elieved, could I in any way
administer to your comfort. Time, and the blessing of God,

I

will open high sources of consolation, and pour the balm of

holy resignation over your wounded spirit.
;ill,[

" Perhaps it may be a melancholy satisfaction to you to

' 11

1
1

1'11

hear the little that I have to relate of Robert's conduct and
appearance during the short time we were permitted to have
him with us.
" On the morning of his return I met him a short dist::mce

.

'·I

.,

,.I'll
I 'I·
. 1'

:
.

from the house, in the Appian Vlay. He was just from the
cars, with his carpet-bag and band-box, coming to the house,
looking very bright and happy.
look better.

I thought I ne,er smy him

I spoke a few minutes ·with him, and he then

went on to the house.

I came home in about an hour, and

1
77
found him taking some refreshment, aucl talking with :Miss
Parker.

He was very social, and we both remill.·kccl after h e

went out, how pleasant it seemed to have him come back look-

in()'v so cheerful and healthy.

A nd such he continued to be

during the short time he continued with us. He passed several
evenings with us, and always appe:tred happy.

One evening

when l\I. and his wife were here (a Lawy er of Boston and son
of :Mrs. Clarke), he and Robert had a long conversation on law
subj ects, in which both of them seemed to take an interest.
The next clay Robert told me he thought he should stay with
me three years longer, as he thought it likely he should enter
the law-school.

At another time, when E. and my son J.'s wife

were here, he passed most of the evening with us in the most
pleasant and social manner (the evening preceding the clay of
bis death). On his going away, Rebecca said to my son, 'How
well and how pleasant :Mr. Paine appears : I never saw him so
interesting.'

lYiiss Parker and myself had both .made nearly

the same remark b efore. H e gave us a very interesting account
of his tour during vacation, relating various incidents that
occurred, ancl mn,king many interesting remarks; and this st ate
of things continued even on the fatal clay that closed his
earthly career.

H e seemed to enjoy every thing around him.

" On Saturday morning, the last time ,I saw him (the clay
of his death), he came in to breakfast rather later than usual.
The other students were going out as he came in.
table alone with him.

I was at the

H e made some little excuse, saying be

I

I>

1J!il'"'llii!,
!.. ·!1

I

78

I

believed he was rather late ; but nothing strange or peculiar
appeared in his manner or connrsation.
talking on various subj ects.

H e sat some time,

On leaving the dining-room, he

told me he was going to Boston. 7:-

H e then stopped a little

while in the parlor, talking with Miss Parker.

H e remarked

to her that if there was a little more snow, he 11.uoulcl give lter ct

8Zeigh-ri:cle. He was perfectly natural and easy, and his conversation as pleas::mt as ever.
"I did not look for him much on Saturday; but when he
did not appear on Sunday, at noon, I felt somewhat surprised
(though not alarmed), as he was seldom, if ever, away on that
day.

Still, it did not seem strange that he should have been

persuaded t o stay at liis U ncle's (in Boston) over Sunday.

But

when Monday morning came and he did not appear, I could
not help expressing my fears that something had happened to
· him, and wished some one would go to his room (in the College) and see what had become of him.

But, before our

breakfast was over, the dreaclful intelligence of his death had
reached us ; " &c.

" I cannot express t o you t h e consternation and terror that
seized upon me.

It seem ed to me it was not, it could not

be so."
" I can remember him only as he appeared the last time I
saw him, cheerful, contented, and happy.
~,

Such, it seems to me,

Tli ere c:m 1c 110 do111t of this intention, :-is he l1ad tl1 c 11tmo;;t :il.li orrcnce of

falsehood.

be must have continued to be np to a ::;!tort time before bis
death ; when some sudden and unaccouu tahle impulse seized
his rniml aud hurried him into Etemity.
" vVith sentiments of the deepest sympathy fo r yourself
and husbaml, I am, dear Mrs. Paine,
" Your sincere and sorrowing friend,

(( :JL .J. CLARKE."

LET'l'ER FRO::-I :'JISS PARKER (RESID IXG

rn :1ms.

CLARKE'S FA:IULY)

TO 2\IRS. P.UNE.

"CAMBRIDGE,

JJ;Iarch 13, 1851.

" l\fr DEAR lVIRs. PAINE: - 1\iy spirit sinks and my heart
aches, as I take my pen to writP.

Oh, my dear friend, most

feelingly do I sympathize with you under this afilicting dispensation, - the loss of your clear Robert, and our clear Robert.
vVe all loved him; but, till his death we knew not how much.
I know it is not in the power of human friendship to soothe
sorrow like yours, whose heart is breaking with grief for a
loved and only child.

I can only tell you how tenderly, how

sincerely I feel for you and his affiictecl Father.

vVorcls cannot

express the shock we felt when the heart-rending intelligence
reached us. But, as .Mrs. Clarke has, in her letter, given you
all the information she could, I will not dwell on those circumstances which she has related; b ut must say, he appeared after

so
his return t o Cambri dge, in perfect health and very happy.
His Southern t our had been very pleasant, and he gave us very
interesting accounts of the places he visited, and the curiosities
he saw. On Saturday morning (the day of his death) he came
into the parlor and talked some time, as he used t o do when
you were here. I saw nothing unusual in his appearance at the
t ime.

H e was in very good spirits and very happy.

Ob, bad

I known it was the last time I was t o baYe seen him, how I
should have treasured up every word he spoke. H e appeared
remarkably pleasant, so much so that Mrs. Clarke and myself
spoke of it after he left. H e went out, saying that he should
not come to dinner, for he thought of going to Boston.

His

absence did not create in me any fears for his safety, as I
supposed be 1vas making a Yisit at his Uncle's, and being the
first since his return to College, had made it longer than usual.
I wish it were in my power t o say something to comfort you ;
but this I can say, he bore an unblemished character, and was
beloved by all who were acquainted with him. A gloom o,-ercast the College, and an expression of sadness was on e1er3'
face. Oh, how sad n thing it is. That you :mcl yonr lrnshancl
mny be supported under this great berenxement, is the sincere
wish and prayer of your sympathizing fri end,
" J\f. p AT:KER. 11

Sl

LETTEH FRO\[ ~ms. IL c. CL\HKE 'l'O H013ER' t"s ~[O'l'II E lL

" Hox:u uRY, 1L\SS., Jfarch 27, 185 1.

." :Jly

DKu~ .L\l1~s .

P ..u NE : -You will not, I hope, consider

me intrusive, in adclressing yon in a season of so much sorrow.
I ::::boulcl not have venturec1, hut that I know, from Dr. Paine's
letter to }frs. Clarke, with what a yearning spirit you must
long for any knowledge, even the most t rifling, of the bst few
days of a son so loved anc1 deeply bmentec1.

I can only add

one slight link to the chain of your fond recollections.
" I passed the evening previous to yo ur son's cleath with Dr.
Clarke, at Cambridge.

vVe sat clown to a very cheerful tea-

table with Rohert, who answered pleasantly all my interrogatories with regard to the part of the country through which he
had been travelling.

He followed us into the parlor, where he

remained during the time we stayed, having my little boy upon
his knee all the time, froli cking with him, and giving him the

..

Latin for various sentences, such as good boy, &c., &c. H e was
uncommonly cheerful.

As we were leaving the house, my little

son asked me for my fur cuffs.

I drew them immediately

oft~

when Robert said, - 'vVhat ! H aswell, let your mother be cold
that you may be warm ! '

They were the last words I ever

heard him utter, save - ' Good night,' as I closed the door ;
but their echo will remain in my memory always. They were
the utterance of a warm and affectionate heart.
Jl

82
"We all sympathize most deeply l'i'ith yomself and husband
in your bereavement, and commend you most fervently to Him
vVho ' t empers the wind to the shorn Jamb.'

That you may be

sustained under your aftliction is the earnest wish of yours
" l\fost respectfully,

" H. C. Cu.ram."

EXTRACT OF A LETTER FRO:i\1 l\IR. SA;iIUEL A. GREEN (WHO HAD BEEK
ROBER:r's CH UM DURING THE WHOLE OF 'l'HEIR CO LLEG E LIFE) TO

DlL PAINE.
" CAMBRIDGE,

" l\h

DEAR

JJ£arch, 1851.

Srn: - I ho1Je you will excuse my apparent neg-

lect in not writing to you before this time; but· the shock that
I experienced has unfi tted me for so doing. I will no,.;· state to
you what dear Robert's actions were just previous to his death.
" I had observed nothing in his conduct during the short
i)eriocl of this term that he was ,.;·ith me differing from what it
had always been. In fact, he was in l)etter s,pirits, if possible,
than I had ever known him to have l1een ; s1)eaking frequently
of his trip during vacation into Virginin, and of the enjoyments
it bad afforded 11im.

Other persons had n]so noticed this.

He

had even stated wbnt bis intentions were in regard to his profession ; saying that he s]rnuld prnlmbly study Chemistry for a
while, and then, perh aps, adopt the profession of Medicine.
(See page 51.)

83

" It had always heen our practice fo r the one who should
be up first in the morning to awake the other ; and, on the
morning of the Sth inst. (the chy of his death) I arose first
::rncl awoke llol)ert.

Ile said it was so stormy abroad he should

not attend prayers, and desired me to do the same.

I said

immediately that I would do the same as he did.

I then

returned to my bed, and we con versecl together for the space
of half an hour upon various subj ects ; each one in his own bed
during this time.

(There were two bed-rooms connected with

the sitting-room.)

Among other things, he said that he was

going into Boston m the afternoon, to spend Sumlay at his
Uncle's.

At half-past seven I got up and went to breakfast,

and returned a few minutes before eight o'clock.

I recited at

eight and he at nine o'clock; the class being divided alplrnbetically into two divisions.

vVhen I left him he was in the act of

dressing, and when I returned from recitation he was blacking
his boots.

This was, perhaps, at about a quarter of nine. In

the course of two or three minutes he went out; and when he
returned we talked together for nearly an hour, -he appearing
perfectly sane and natural.

I remember, distinctly, of his

speaking of inviting a few members of the Rumford Society to
our room after the meeting on Monday evening, the 10th inst.
H e had had sent to him a bushel of nuts from Groton, and I had
received a barrel of apples. H e said that these would be nice
to give our friends on l\fomlay evening.

H e spoke, also, of

walking to Groton with me, some time during the term, a

84

distance of thirty mi1 es, and returning the next day.

I

answered that, as he excelled me in walking, he should give
me the start of half a da3r, and on that condition I would go.

Ii

~

He repli ed that, in such a case, I had better take the cars, and
leave him to walk alone.

He vYas a great walker, and I have

knoYrn him to walk twenty-five miles in a clay, on one or two
Saturdays particularly.
"After conversing for nearly an hour, I left him just m
season to take the train of cars for Boston.
"I do not think that at this time he meditated an act of
self-destruction.

I am fully of the impression that it was the

result of a feeling which came over him suddenly, and one, t oo,
"'hich he could not resist.
"As to the sulphuric ether (of which he had just purchased
more than a pint), I have known of his having lJought it on
se,-eral occasio:'.ls.

.I

H e was fond of Chemistry, and was often

lJuying substances for the purpose of experiments .

111

''I had roomed with Robert so long that I had become
very much attached t o him.

1

I had seen so many fin e and

11
I,

nol>l e qualities in him that I could not help it. His loss " ·ill
b e very deeply felt by the Class, more so, I think, than that of

1\; .1:1

I.

any oth er member. His fri ends are not confined to his
Class. H e has many others ,,·ho l>elong to all the Classes.

1"

,.
I

I

OIY11

" I remain yours very respectfull y,

:1. I 11

iii'

"8A:"l!lJET,

•

A. GlffEJ\.''

s!)
In .'.mother lette r fr om Mr. C'rrcen (of April

:.! :3th ),

lte

remarks :
" I saw more of Robert, perhaps, during the few lbys of the
Term he was with us than usual.
the first week, I thiuk, than

Yi'C

"\Ve were too·ether
more fo r·
;::,
had ever been during the

same length of time, on account of our greater leisure. During
this time he frequently spoke of the plans which he inteudeLl to
carry out after he shoulcl have left Cambridge. He told me
he should live somewhere in the country in preference to the
city, -to be where he could study Kature.
" One remarkable feature in liis character was his benevolence, which I had noticed in a very marked degree. There
was a tendency of giving too much rather than too little.
Quite frequently persons would call at the rooms in the College
buildings for the object of begging. On several instances, in
particular, I remember his generosity to these people, when I
told him that he did not use proper precaution in regard to
them.

At which he replied, that he would rather err in giving

too much than too little.
"As far as I can learn, I was the last person who had any
long conversation with him."

SG

LETTER. I N AKSWER TO MR GREEN'S.

"NEw-YoRK, April 10, 185 1.

" l\h DEAR MR. Gr-rnEN : - I hasten, as soon as I am able,
to acknowledge the receipt of your very kind and most welcome letter.

I had, ind eed, been waiting with great . anxiety,

to hear from you, lJut had r efrained frnm addressing you, as
I well knew how painful it must have been to r elate the circumstances of your last interview 11rith our dear Robert.
" The occurrence of his death in almost your immediate presence, with the sound of that last com-ersation, so expressive
of h ope and youthful buoyancy, and plans for future usefulness, stiJl lingering upon his ·ear, and all the little but most significant details concerning your delightful harmony in ' doing
as the oth e1• did,' your familiar and natural chat as you carried
out in bed that sympathetic r esponse t o the wish es of each
other, the lJlacking of boots, the nuts, the apples, the prospecth-e entertainment, on t1e next follcm-ing :'.\Ioucb:r eYening,
of your scientific friends of tli e Rumford Association, ns proposed lJy dear Hobert wli en time wns just over with him,
11·ith a great amount of other conesponding focts from other
sources, r eachiug, like those related in your letter, np to almost
the moment of his death , are absolutely conclusi;-e that there
could hav e l1ecn no thong11t of his ow11 cl estrncti oH ti]] at the

87
time of its execnti,)11, and that tlw ll<ttural exercise of reason
must have b ee n so snddeuly aml completely overth rown, tLat
all past r ecollections, all th e hilarity of tlut morning streamin o· from the fo un tain of frien11sl1ip, all his life-long rever-

"

ence for lleligion, all his nlllleviatiug walk in morality and
,-irtue, and the impubes of yo uth, cuuhl ham had no place
in his mirnl.

So sudden, imleed, were the fabe perceptions

which seized upo n him, that there is 11ut

't

clue in his writ-

ings, his memoraud:i, his co1wersations, l1is (1eportrnent, or any
one arr:rngement, at t he natme of the illusion, or that his
death had been meditated.

This, howen:,r, is often the his-

tory of insanity. The subj ect, nevertheless, fr equently lJetrays,
as a consequence, what are considered only peculiarities or eccentricities; when, at last, a violent seizure takes place with
great abruptness, and whatever act is done follows at the moment, or before the illusion is supplanted by right perceptions.
But even then, reason may seem to be in such full operation
that many can discern insanity only in the act itself; though
closer observation shows that all the reasonmg is upon false
premises.
"I

is of little moment what were the chemical agents

around him that administered to his death.

Sulphuric ether

appears to have een one, o w ic t ere was more than a pint;
and you 'have known of his buying it on several occasions, and
that he was often buying substances for the purpose of experiments.'

I am informed that there were as many as fifty bottles

)

'"

,i!,

\

l!H':

I.

SS
standing upou his table. There was uothiug there with any
evil design, but for the purposes of an inquisitive mind.

The

whole hist ory of his life is one unbroken chain of t estimony
that he never ent ertained an evil thought.

He was fo nd of

Chemist ry; and its pursuit was an occasional recreation from
severer st udies. Like all novices, he was prone to look into
what is most curious and wonderful in that Science. H ence he
purchased and studied the vegetalJle alkaloids, respired the
sulphuric ether and other gaseous substances, which older
Chemists have al ways practised, and often at the no small
exposure of life; and , on two occasions be forwarded to me,
from Cambridge, t wo specimens of explosive substances made
by himself, - one of ·which was the gun-cotton, and the other a
new gun-powd er.

I cautioned him against these dangerous

things; but he was always so habitualJy careful of his health
and life, that I had never any fear t hat he would t ake a risk
from experiments when enlightened of their dangerous tendency.
" As to the direct facts which are indicative of his attachment to life , tli e)- become of greflt int erest wh en contrast ed
·with the mann er of liis death.

Besid es the great attention

which he llestm,·ecl upon his diet, :mc1 his 11alJitunl walks, he
had been proYi ded for fl ve years ·with fl life-preserver, aud he
never tranlled without that means of safety in fl small carpetl>ag. H e brought this with him on his joum ey home b st rncfltion, ancl carried it with him on his b te tour through Virgiui a.

:Mrs. Clarke says, in a letter to Mrs. Paine, that, 'on the morning
after his r eturn to Camb ridge, I met him a short distance from
t he house, in t he J\_ppian \.Vay. H e was just from the cars,
wit h his

c~t rp et-l n1g,

coming to the house, looking very bright

and huppy.' That wa:,:; the little bag whic:h was always devoted
to his life-preserver ; and when, a fe w days after his death, my
sister entered his chamber in Hal worthy I-fall, to look around
upon the thiogs which remained exactly as he left them, t he
little carpet-bag was there with its faithful indosnre, aloug with
a night-shirt, indicative of th e place whid1 it occupied on th e
night of the %th of February, when he made his last voyage
around the coast in the F all River steamer.

It is also worthy

of r emark, as illustrating this moral problem, that, while
passing the last summer vacation at vV ells' Beach, in Maine, he
occasionally amused himself with short :fishing excursions, when
he made his life-preserver his companion.

Shooting, also, was

one of his occasional amusements, and as I commonly joined
him in this r ecreation, I had the opportunity of observing that
he canied the same precautions into all the management of
his gun.
" Such are examples of his habitual care of his life ; and h e
often manifested an intense anxiety, sometimes very distressing,
about the h ealth and lives of his Parents.

In the former case,

although strongly marked, it seemed to proceed only from
the natural sentiment under the steady discipline of reason; and
as to his Parents, there was often more or less ground for his fear.
12

QO

" But it 1s useless to dwell upon consid erations of this
nature with one who knew Robert so intimately as yourself;
who knew so well his exemption from passion, his complete
equanimity of mind, bis possession of every thing that was
amialJle and excell ent.

And yet, so singularly mysterious is

this Providence in the apparent absence of any exciting cause
of a moral nature, I cannot but dl'lell on the contrast afforded
by his whole life up to the moment of its extinction.

I have

no difficulty in discerning a physical cause in a preternatural
susceptibility of bis brain ; but I can find nothing of a moral
nature to have acted injuriously upon the organ.

It seems to

have been, indeed, the physical cause alone; and hence may be
·inferred bis ver:r exuberance of spirits on the morning of the
fatal day.

His mind, as you know, was full of benevolence,

and as gentle as the dew of heaven. I have never known it to
have been ruffled l)y any passion, or by any disappointment.
"How rare the occurrence of two Collegians spending their
four years together in the relationship of Chums, and their
endearments to each other increasing to the encl of the term !
There is a coincidence, in this respect, in regard to myself,
-n·hich renders the fact of thrilling interest; for, during the fo ur
:rears of my College life I lived on the same harmonious t erms
as the Chum of the late R ev. Professor Brazer, and, during our
Senior year we occupied a room not far from yours in Halworthy Hall.
"For the present, my clear Mr. Green, I can only thank you

-,

;<:

l

\Jl

for the exercise ot' t LLOse virtnc:-J wliicL1 wurn so diaracteristit.: uf
Robert, ·ancl by whid1 yo n co ntrilrntccl so g reatly to his ltapviness, allll eudl':trell yomsclf so strongly to him.

It is my

earnest wicih to c:: nltivate an intirn,tte friemlshi p with yo n hereafter, aml in this cleep sentiment of affection Mrs. P,iine entirely
participates. IucleeLl , we coulcl wi::;h to be on terms of intimacy
with all ot' R o1)ert's Classmates, and to do fo l' them whatever,
living, he wo uld have done.
" :Mrs. Paine desires h er affectionat e regards to you, and
unites with me in the hope that we shall hear again from you
soon, and that we shall also r eceive from you an early visit.
"Very affectionately yours,
" :;\lA.RTYN

P _uxE."

E::S:THACT 01" A L ETTER Fnmr .L\.HED SP.\RKS, LL. D., PHESIDEKT OF
'l'HE UNIYEHSITY, TO DR I'AI:\E.

" C ,urn RIDGE,

11.farch 19, 1851.

" MY DEAn Sm.: - I have delayed writing t o you for a
short time, t ill the acuteness of yo ur feelings, so k eenly touched
by the r ecent most afflicting event, should be in some measure
subdued; and even now I should foil in any attempt to e:s:press
my own deep sympathy with you in so great a bereavement.
Yet it cannot but lJe a source of consolation to you to be
assured of the high esteem in which your son was held h ere by
all who knew him.

r.

r
'i"
f

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92
" By his uniformly correct deportment and amiable disposition he gained the confidence and respect of his Instructors, and
th e kind regards and good ·will of his Associates. As a scholar,
he exhibited talents of high promise.

His mind was constantly

active, and steadily employed in studies congenial to his taste.
Latterly his_ attention appears to have been much attracted to
the sciences.
" More than a 3rear ago he called on me, and said he had
been for some time endeavoring to solve the prolJlem of the
quadrature of the circle, and he believed with a fair prospect of
success ; lJut that he had recently seen a notice of a similar
effort hy a person in Canada, who, there was reason t o suppose,
might have adopted the same method.

He request ed me to

receive from him a statement of what he had done and hoped
to accomplish, so that the conception might lJe kno·wn to have
originated with him, if he should lJe anticipated in its execution
by another.

H e accordiIJgly hand ed to me the inclosed paper,

which I doubt not will give you pleasure to preserve ns an
interesting memorial." +:·
7
""\'

ith great respect, I am, dear Sir, sincerely your;:;,

" J AJ:ED

SJ ',\J:J~ ;:; . "

*

Hol><'rt c01nmittl'c1 ti.ti:.: to th o cnrc of tl1 c l'r('' idcnt nt Jii;; l\lut]J (' r's particular
request. SLe \ms tl1 011 rcsidi 1>g \Yitl 1 l1 i111 at l'a 111l1ridge, and l1otl1 wen · a l1ull t. le:1 Yin'.,!: for tLe Ya c:ition.

Ile 11-:1'

: tYCJ'."' l'

il• doing it, k:.:i ii , ]wul\l "l 'l "-·ar o:.:tc11t:di(l11.-.

Tl1 e atlcmplcd :;o]utiou of tl 1e proLlern was left uufinislied, au d lie intcJ1dcd lo ]1:1\"l·

resumed it whcu more- :it lci;;urc.

The next following letter refers to a subject in which the
Parents Lael a deep interest.

The application was founded

upon the consideration t Lat their Son had nearly cornpkted his
Collegiate course.

LETTER FRQ)I

J_i.mm SP_1.iu;:s,

LL. D., PHESIDE N'l' OF 'l'IIE

"CA-'> CDIUDGE,

'( .}fr DEAR

U~ I VEllSITY.

J une 5, 1851.

,,'

Sm : - Your letter of the 10th ultimo was

llnly received, and I have taken the earliest opportunity to lay
it before the Corporation. They have given to your request all
the consideration, which a subj ect so interesting to you justly
llemancls.

Your son's Classmates h:i,d :i,lso petitioned to have

his name inclu(led in the Catalogue of Graduates, showing
thereby a to uching testimony of the estimation in which he
was held by them.
" I am sorry to be obliged to inform you, however, that the
Corporation could not feel themselves justified in departing
from the obvious construction of the College Laws, and from
the usage which has always existed. Similar applications have
heretofore been made, but there is no precedent for conferring
a degree on a student who was not living at the time; and, on
reviewing the reasons for the course which lrns been pursued,
as connected with the general interests of the University, the
Board could not but consider them strong ancl just.

f
I

'J

" Be assured, my dear Sir, that every member of the Board
h;:s sympathized witl1 you most deeply in the afflicting event
·which gave rise to your appli cation, and that your son has left
a nam e which ·will ever b e held in affectionat e remembrance lJy
all who knew him at the U niversity.
" vVith , &c.
"JARED SPARKS."

A::\SWEH. TO THE FOREGOI NG LETTER.

"NEw -Y oRJ~,

" DEAR

J une 10, 1851.

Sm : - I had entertained some fear that t he great

desire of my heart could not be consistently granted.

But your

very kind letter sulJclued all feeling of disappointment, and left
me ·with no other emotions than of gratitude to yourself and the
gentl emen composing the Corporation, and the memlJers of the
Senior Class, for your and their sympathies, aucl of great t hankfulness that you could speak of my son in such consolatory terms.
Mrs. P aine unites warml y with me in these sentiments, and in

wishing n life of unalloyecl h nppiness t o yourself and Mrs.
Sparks.
(( I remain D ear Sir very res1)ectfol]v
1

'

•

·"

(( Yonr oll]igetl friend, and obedient senant.
"l\'Lu:TYl\ P ,\INE.
" J A J:ED

Sr.A1u;:s, LL. D., President, &c.''

LETTER l"IJO\l .\. STGDE:C\'l' <)F DlVIC{ITY, A.:-<D ,\. FELLOll'-BOARDEH

\\Tl'II HOJJJ::RT .

"CA.\rill~IDGE, :MASS.,

"MY

DEAH.

Uurch 26, 1861.

Sm: - It gives me pleasme to be the medium of

communicating to you the accompanying expr ession of the feelinO'S
of the Boarclers at Mrs. Clarke's towards you and yo ur son.
0
:;yry nearer acquaintance with him, ttDll my deep interest in Lim,
seem to me to rencler imperative a farther expression of my feelings, and one which I could not convey adequately in any genera1 form, however t rue and sincere.
" I neecl hardly say, with what sorrow the tidings of Robert's death filled us all.

It was deep and general.

But to

those who knew him best, and who watched his progress with
most solicitude, there was one element of Litterness in the cup
of sorrow which others tastecl not. I felt as if I knew him
better, arnl could better appreciate his feelings, than many, if
not most of those immediately around Lim ; and the sudden extinction of all those hopes which I had formed for him, and
the thought of his Parents' sorrow, made the event doubly sad
to me. I was watching with interest the growth and direction
of his mind; with how much and what kind of interest you
may imagine, when I say that I observed in him an increasing
disposition to view subjects in the light of CLristi::m truth and

right, as contradistinguished from the low ancl selfish views so
generally adopted. No one can t ell how t rue and deep is the
satisfaction derived ffom such a circumstance as this, but he
who longs fo r it and so seldom finds it. It lJinds one to anoI

i:l11!

"'

th er by a 1ond of more than ordinary strength and permanence ; and, n-hen th e band of death strikes down one who excites such an interest, the blow is aggravated hy the feeling
tLat the world has Jost one it could ill afford to spare. Snc11
was my feeling toward.s Robert; a feeling of gTOwing respect
and regard, as well as of joy in the prospect of a life guided ,

11

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'1' ' /·,l1
'"11!!11
1~ 1 I : 1·
1

in whatever sphere it might be placed, by noble, Christian
principles. I felt that the character of his mind was such as
would compel him for ever to lJe dissatisfied 1vith the mere
form of truth, and content only with the sul)stance ; and here
I had entire sympathy with him.

H e saw how many minds

rest satisfied with forms and semblances of things, without
penetrating into th e et ernal r ealities which girn expression to
th e outward forms; and the sight was to him unsafofactory, as
t o eYery thinking mind it must be.

His aim nppcared t o he

t o get at the sulJstflnce, - t o lay hold ou et em al tru th ; an cl I
felt n deep s:ttisfa cti on in the thoug11t Hint such n desire was
Li s, - for I ku ew that tLe longer he lived t1 1c more would he
renlize it, aucl th e better 1nmk1 he

lJ E'

fittC'd to lJceome a com-

fort to your heartf:', nrnl a blessing to those nrnuncl him.
" But the Infinite Father ha cl other pmposes wit]1 l1im , nml
Ile has remoYecl him from among us.

It seems a son ow 11anl

~

to bear, ancl most deep ly and truly do I sympathize with you.
I have known whcit it is to be clepri,-ell of one ,,-ho "-"1s clear to
roe as life, - my

O\Yll

blessetl mother, who

w;1,,;

to us all the

centre around which our ntfodions aml our happiness seemed to
arow nnd ·whose removL1l from aruong us occasionecl a void
::i

'

which nothing on this e::u-th can ever fill ; and I t.5an feel fo r

you in this hour of your bitter grief.
"But what a world of comfort is rev8aled unto us in Jes us
Christ, vYho came to teach us that Go(l is our Father, that His
infinite Love is the Fountain whence all our blessings and our
seerning evils fl.ow; that He loves us ever more than we can
ask or even think ; that H e is seeking to bless and do us good.
When I think upon these blessed truths, I confess that, at
times, I can feel the glory of suffering, and can think that it is
goocl to have 1Jeen afflicted.

That this comfort in your sorrow

may be yours, I earnestly hope and pray; for then will your
trial prove indeed a blessing.

I t is, I know, hard to feel that

sudden calamities, which overtake us when we are unexpecting ·
and unprepared for them, are intended as welcome messengers
of mercy and love to us.

vVhen the heart is crushed beneath

the weight of trouble, it feels only the presence of the pain,
and not till calmer hours come, does it know that the healing
balm is there.

It sees only the cloud, forgetting that behind

that cloud the light of I-:Ieaven is shining; without which,
indeed, the cloud could never have arisen.
"But you have other comforts besides those which Religion
13

98

gives ; and, indeed, 1 may share them with you.

The feeling

which must fill the soul as it contemplates the end of one so
pure, so good, so generous, so kind, so amiable as ·was Robert,
how different from what it would have been had he been otherwise ! '~

A Christian life, all theologians agree, is a fitting pre-

paration for a Christian death.

That Robert's heart was right,

we have all very good reason for believing.

For myself, I can

bear most hearty testimony to his worth ; aficl grieved though

* As this Memoir is designed to be of
\\~ll

a domestic nature, and for those only who

sympathize in its objects, the Parents cannot "llitbhold the following illustration of

the manner in which they should come to regard the death of their Son, as presented
to them by their friend the late John R. Murray, Esq. ; and they record it the more
willingly, as they baYC', in no small degree, realized a verifi cation of the prophecy,
and \Yould bold it up as a consolation for others in their bereavements.

" You have,"

said he, "the rcmarkalile religious and \irtuous habits of your Son for your steady
contemplation and example.

The realities of bis e1.istence upon Earth have now

assumed the appearance of a shadow, flitting orcr the dales and the hills with which
some of the finest incidents of his life are associated. 1 ou see that shadow, too, only
in the distance, and, although in chase of it, it may seem to recede farther and farth er
from your \~ew, till at last, it may turn some corner of a mountain and disappear !
But, \\ith the eye of faith you will still discern it through the mountain itself.
will scrrc to hasten your efforts, and you

''"ill soon find yourselves

This

approaching more

rapidly the pbce of immersion , and will be surp1iscd, on turning that corner, to find
how greatly you have 01·crcome the distance bet\\·cen yoursckcs and the shadm1.
This will gi,·e another stimulus to your pnr~11it, and I need not. say tliat you \rill
speedily OYcrtakc it."
This incident reminds the Biographers of another tribuk . bestowed upon their
Son by tho Sister of their lamented fri end, \Ylto paid the high rcspC'ct to his piety of
presenting l1im with a Diploma constituting him n life mcrnhcr of tl 1c "Ameriwn
BiLlc Society," in his So11l 1omom year.

.

\) ~)

I feel at his sudden departure, it is to me a gre:it amt abilling
satisfaction to think tl1at he was one to whom tleath should
have no terrors. To you it must 1)e a source of comfort and
oTatitmle; for the memory of yo ur son's virtues you can cherish

0

as an object of pleasing contemplation to the latest period of
life. Am1, though earthly hopes are blastell and destroyed, yet
is there a better aml holier hope, which, in God's good providence, may one day be realized.
"The bst conversation that I recollect holding \Vith Robert,
was concerning his journey in Virginia.

He spoke with great

pleasure of that tour, which he had evidently highly enjoyed.
He had taken particular notice of every thing concerning
slavery, and spoke of it as a great evil to that State; as, in
fact, ruinous to every thing with which it had any connection.
He was very much pleased with the objects of curiosity in
natural scenery ; but his chief thought seemed to be in regard
to points which are now so generally discussed, and he made
his journey serve to throw a great deal of light upon them. Of
slavery he spoke with more aversion than he ever did before.
His conversations with individuals whom he met or travelled
with there seemed to have interested him very much, as showing how bad the system is. I can see him now as his face
lighted up with pleasure, when he told me of the amusing, or
the new and beautiful things that he had seen.

He seemed

well and very happy.
"The last time that I saw him alive was at breakfast on

I-

r
. .,, .A

: I
I

'I
it

100
Saturday morning (the cby of his death).

Nothing then indi-

cated that he was otherwise than well and happy.

These are

the last things that I can ca11 to mind concerning him and his

'I
11

·l .. ,

conversation.

As they may afford you some satisfaction, I haYe

stated them.

I must not forget to say, also, that I was so much

interested in his account of his Southern travels, that I ask ed
him to draw up in writing a brief record of them; more particularly in regard to slavery. This he promised to do some
time when he had leisure.
" What our relations to each other were, you know as well
as I can tell you.

Always frank and op en, our intercourse was

to me becoming more pleasant and profitalJle constant]y; and I
was not without hope that it might be so mutualJy.

For his

character and life I feel grnteful ; and though I cannot but
r egret so early a t ermination of his career, yet I can rejoice
that there was so much in it to be glad and grateful for, - so
much that ·we all can look back upon with satisfaction and
pleasure, - so much that will ever r ender his memory sacred.
"I have spoken of RolJert as I feel.

I h [l,ve endeirrnred to

aYoicl exaggerntion, and ha;-e rather studied the reYcrsc.

l\Iy

olJject has not b een to eulogize him, lJut, hy expressiug my
r egard for him , to giYe t o you t hat comfort and consolation
which t h e tliought of his worth is so well :fittecl t o gin.

Our

loss is his gain. Tl1:1t to you, also, it nwy be no loss, but grent
gain, I earnestly prny.

Auel, if this poor letter sh:11l clo :rngl1t

townrcls lightening yom load of grief, I s1rnll

1>0

alm11 clm1tly

l0 L

gra t eful . It [::; ve ry plea::;ant to me tu be able to ::;peak such
words of comfo rt as I can offer in l'egan l to R ol>er t ; arnl,

although they very inacleqtrntely express the feelings which
dictate them, yet :lccept them as an earnest of the exist ence of
those feelings.
"Please gin my very killll r eg:mls to Mrs. Paine; and with
one more expression of my sincere sympathy with you, ::i.nd
affectionate respect and regard for Robert's memory, I ::i.m,

" :JIy clear Sir,
"Trnly yo ur fri end,

" F.

FROTIIIXI~ !LUL"

The Jetter which follows describes the manner of the Yout h
as he appeare(l at a Club of familiar Classmates two evenings
before his death ; the S. G. I. Cluh.

EXTRACT OF A L ETTER FRO::II :MR. WILLL-L\I W. GOODWIN, A CLASS::IIATE
OF ROBERT.

" CA::IIBRIDGE,
" PROF.

September 15, 1851.

p AINE :

"DEAR

Srn: - I will endeavor to comply with your request,

that I should give you a circumstantial account of Robert's
appearance and conversation on the Thursday evening before

~f''
1m4, .1•
I

~

l.':111:11 ·

!'l1'.
. ·1l.. 1·11:·,
• ,. 1 '
·

I

i

.l

:·

,

'

'•,iH'
~1d!: I \1 I

1

·' /;. '"

11

!1 _ ••

102
his death, as nearly as I can recollect ; but as I had no particular reason at the time for noticing his conduct especial1y, I can
of course only recall su ·h scattered portions as were most forcibly suggested t o my mind by the sad event which so closely
followed that evening.
" On the Thursday evening before his death, Robert attended a meeting of the S. G. I. Club, and throughout the evening
he manifest ed his usual cheerfulness, and gave no one the
slightest reason to suppose that he was not in the full enjoyment of bis senses, in every respect..

His conversation was the

same, and his beha;-i.or the same, as they always had been when
I

he met with us, and nothing was said or done by him which we
should have remembered as at all unusual, if his death had not
so soon followed.

But that event recalled t o our minds some

little incidents, which show almost conclusively, that, on that
evening he had no intention or even thought of destroying
his life, and that he was, as you say, ' looking for\\rard to the
future with unabated hope and ha1)piness.' During the evening
he proposed t o one of our number t o tnke a rrnlk with him
every morning before pra:yers, fo r t71e rema inder qf tlte term.
After some discussion tLe proposition was accepted, and they
agreed t o call for one another on alternate mornings. I think
one of these wnlks was nctually taken on Fridny moming. At
a later period in the evenil1g, Rohert proposed that a 'Cipher'
should lJe agreed. upon b etween us, l)y which 11e couM correspond after leaving College, and he moi;-ecl tlmt n Committee be

11)0

appointed to prepare one.i'

The proposition being considered

rather chimeric::tl 1 no serious actiou was taken upon it ; but
Robert was appointed a Committee of One to report some such
plan for consiLleration at the next meeting.

"'When called upon

for a literary production, he apologizeLl for not having one
ready that evening, and saicl he had one in preparation for the
next meeting, which wonlcl have taken pbce
the one of which I am speaking.

:1

fortnight from

This unfinished production

bas never been found, and it would give us all great pleasure to
see it, if it should at any future time be discovered.

These are

all the incidents I can remember of what took pbce on that
eveninD"."
u

" If I can be of the least assistance to you in this or in any
other way, or if I have omitted any thing you desire to kri.ow,
and which it is in my power to t ell you, I hope you will inform
me, and I will do my best to assist you."
" Y ours, with great respect,
" "\VrLLLU[

vV. GoomnN."

The following is an extract from the Letter already referred
to (page 28), and was taken by R o1Jert from the Post-office on
the morning of the clay of his death.

* This was .Probably suggested by tho circumstance that the ,\ssoci:ttion was
pri rnte one.

:l

J04

" \VASIIINGTON, D. 0 ., Jlfarch 5, 1851.
" DEArt PAINE : - I have just received your letter.

You

are the most punctual Correspondent I ba;ve ever known.

Be

assured. that nothing would. afford me greater l)leasure than to
be able to oblige you.

Y om article about Mount Vernon I

shall give to the Editor."
" P ray excuse me, as I am in great haste.
" Truly, ever ;rours,

. (( J. E. FELTON."
" Robert Troup Paine."

EXTRACT

:MRS.

OF A LE'I''l'En FROM

DUNN TO HER BROTHER, DR. r AINE.

" BosTOK, MASS.,

:l·
I

~March

18, 1851.

" MY DEAR BROTHER: - It is Yery sad to write you t his

I

letter, for I know how very painful it will be t o h ear all the

I

little particulars I am al)out to tell you ; and yet I think you

I

r

will :fin.cl great consolation in the fact, that th ere was no cause

whateYer for this mysterious act.
l)rid2'e with me Yesterdav afternoon.
~

~

~

J\fr. Dunn went to Carn-

\ Ve first callecl on the

President, Vi'ho received us 1Yit1 great courtesy, and assured us,
as be has done every one, I b eli eve, of the great estinrntio11 in
·which R obert was held by the Faculty."
" \ Ve then went to the room where this sad event took
. 11

·i\11Hh 9
•I
11;

.

tl•:
!11.1:1

(
"'

II

'

place.

roe.

I assure vou it required no small etfort to look about
J

Green has not returned, and the room oppo::;ite has uot

since been occupied.

vV e examined llo ber t's secretary and

other places, but fouml nothing explanator y.

One hundred

dollars were in the secret drawer, and his diamond breast-pin."
" \Ve must view this calamity with the eye of Faith.

A

few short years, and we shall, I trust, meet him again, where
there wi11 be no more sonow "
" Your, &c.,
" SoPIIu D uNN."

HESOLGTIOXS BY THE SENIOR CLASS, WHICH, WITH THE REPLY, WERE
PRINTED BY THE CLASS AS A :JIEhlORIAL FOR 'l'HE)ISELVES.

" Ox~IBRIDGE,

"DEAR

.March 18, 1851.

Sm : - At a meeting of the Senior Class of Harvard

College, called upon the occasion of the death of your son, our
classmate, the following resolutions were unanimously adopted,
which we send with no vain hope of alleviating your sorrow,
but as a simple testimonial of our feelings.

"Re.sovved, - That the mournful death of our clear friend
and classmate, Robert Troup Paine, occurring as it has so near
our final separation, has cast a gloom, which we cannot hope
will be dispelled, over the whole remainder of our College

r

-

iiljiiiJ'

I

[!'

d

l'i

''i11

111:!

: l~I
I

"l1 11,'.1i'
11

'

i [,

I

!1,1

106

·11

course.

In him we have to mourn the loss of a kind and affec-

tionate friend, of an agreeal)le und cheerful companion, and of
an intellect active and cultivated.

H e wus equally endeared to

us by the qualities of his mind and of his heart, and had his
life been spared, we feel assured that he would have proved an
honor to the class. vVhile he won the affection and esteem of
his classmates, be did not fail of securing the confidence and
respect of his instructors ; and in the minds of both he has left
a remembrance never to be effaced.

"Reso?med, - That we sympathize most deeply with the
sufferings of his afflicted parents. If the loss of such a friend
is so hard for us to hear, what must be the sorrow of those
who have been called to part with a dear and only son.

'' R e.sol1xd, - That an authentic copy of these resolutions be
transmitted to the parents of our late classmate.
" HEN RY
~

\V. I-IA YKES ,

Emv ARD H. H ALL,
-i:xT
C. B RADLEY,
Vl ILLIAl\1

}

i

c~~

c1
'tt
011mu ee.

" PnoF. l\1 ARTYK PAINE."

":::\K\\--Yom:, 1llarcl1 2±, 1851.
" l\fr KrKD Fi :rnI\DS, Jle111l1a 8 <!f' t lie S en im· Cl a.ss <!f I-fa rvanl

Um've1·8itJ1 : -

" Mns.

PAIKE

and myself bave receini.d your resolutions of

affectionate regurcl for the memory of om· dear CltiJcl , and of

107
sympathy for us, with very deep emotions of g ratitude.

Next

to our consciousness of Robert's entire purity of life and
chctrader, and an unhesitating belief that so much innocence
is well accepted of H eaven, the expre:Ssion of yo ur own intimate knowledge of his worth softens a sorrow which would
otherwise paralyze our minds, and abbreviate the little which
remains of our earthly being.

umler such influences, ho\vever,

and others of a similar nature from your inestimable and
benevolent President, and yet other kind friends, whose confidence and regard had been won by Robert to the encl of his
brief career, we feel ourselves sustained, and enabled to bow in
submission to the Almighty vVill.

vVe feel that ours is alone

the loss ; and while we cannot but indulge the principle of
humanity, which was alike impressed upon the Saviour of man,
we do not permit our grief to be unmindful of the sadness
which has come over your souls.
the loss sustained by ourselves.

vVe feel for you as well as
vVe hope, too, that the event

may be sanctified to you as well as to us, and that it may
impress all of us deeply with the uncertainty of human affairs.
Not that it should cast a gloom over the blessings and enjoyments of life, but that it may so lead us to cultivate the religion
and the virtues which governed my Son from his early childhood, that we may rather pursue what is intellectual than what
is sensual.

Disciplined by the

c ul~ure

of sound principles in

religion and morals, you will find life to be full of the rich est
pleasures, and will come to regard its severest trials as ultimate

Ii,

r

,ii

108
·:!·

sources of refined happiness.
I

.i

It is the vicious alone, or those

who seek enjoyments under wrong propensities, or the morlJid
misanthrope, that turn upon the world as an inheritance of
troubles and sorrows without a corresponding relief.
"Robert was the victim of an inexorable necessity, which
could not be averted while he was under the ordinary laws of
Lis physical being. There was a radical fault entailed upon his
brain, in a morbid susceptibility of that organ, superinduced by
disease which attended him uninterruptedly during the first
seven years of his life, and during which we were hourly apprehensive of his death.

The brain was the main source of the

difficulty, shedding a pernicious influence over the great organs
of digestion.

But, in the midst of these physical evils, his

mind was remarkal)ly precocious, for ever active, and evincing
some very unusual and even surprising manifestations.

In vain

did I strive to hold it in check; and, to keep him from books,
I withheld from him a knowledge of the alphabet till he was
about six :years old.

At the age of nine years, he was attacked

·with a very formidable inflammation of the brain, and in consequence of the habitua11y susceptible condition of that organ, he
couJ<l. never bear the stimulus of men,t.

He tried it now and

then, though very rarely, when it always gave him a seYere
headacbe. He was also a .sleep-walker from th e time he cou] d
go alone up t o the end of his first year in College, which is as
far as I have traced it. This was last manifested t o us when at
a retired pla ce in the country, during the vacation precedi11g

lt}'.)

his Sophomore year.

It then occurred two or three times, aml

on one of the occasions he rose in the nig·ht, :1rnl wandered
abroad in a storm of great violence. The house ·was ;1larme<l
by the noise of his movements, aml pursuit was made.
" There was something peculiarly remarkable in his religious
habits fr om the age of two years and a half, which raised in bis
Parents a constant apprehension that he would fall either into
a religious melancholy or monomania; though he always enj oyed every thing around him, so far as infirmity of health would
admit.

From that early age to the time he left us for College,

at eighteen years, I have never known a person who manifested
such an undeviating and so devout a reverence for the Sabbath,
as well as for all other holy things.

In infancy his toys were

voluntarily bid aside on Saturday evening, and the Sabbath
was passed in repeating the prayers and chapters in fae Bible,
which had been taught him by his Mother when but two years
old.

His memory was one of his remarkable attributes, espe-

cially so in early life ; and whatever was once or twice read to
him from the Bible, he would habitually repeat, as well as his
prayers, without farther prompting.

His entire childhood was

distinguished by the same display of reverential feeling towards
the Deity.

After his health would admit, he was never from

Church, up to the t ime of going t o College, unless rarely prevented by some t emporary illness ; and the residue of the clay
was devoted to writing out a summary of what he had heard,
or to serious reading.

The Bible was the first book he read

•
110

through, and at the age of thirteen years he had read it twice;
when he appeared to have al)sorbed the whole in his memory.
But, it should lJe said, that when tbis seemingly constitutional

trait was discovered, nothing was clon e lJy his Parents to encourage it, hut simply to indulge it.

Yon may remember how he

kneeled at prayers in the University Chapel, when first conneeted with the College.

It was with some difficulty that

President Everett and myself could dissuade him from it, so
imperative was his conscience on the sulJject.

At the close of

his Sophomore year, when he was to adopt an elective study,
his mind was so wedded to the profession of Divinity, that it

•

was with great difficulty that th e President and myself could
discourage him from studying H ebrew. I was alarmed lest it
should abstract his attention from his Collegiate course, and
r educe him to an exclusiveness, if nothing more, which I bad so
long apprehended.

I

1

Nothing hut reasoning and persuasion 11ere

employed, and the President agreed with me entirely, that
mildness and t enderness were alone admissible in the case. He
was also assured that be shoulcl choose his profession with
entire independ ence, and if Divinity l>ecame bis choice, that it
would be ns mnch my desire as his own that be sl10ulcl be
tlrnrougbly con Yersant "·itl1 tlrn origiunl bnguage of the Old
Testament.
" On the pmt of his Parents, there 'ms nothing lJut one
uninterrupted indulgence, lJecanse his stern integri ty, and Yirtues, and manly desires, never permitted him to take th e slight-

:~1t
I

e

111

est advantage.

vVbeu I was ab~cll t

111

Europe, for several

months before his entrance at College, I gave him my bankaccount in charge, with authority to draw for money at his
pleasure.

His happiness and usefulness were the unceasing

objects of our care, and we lived almost for him alone. E ven
my own ambition for character was stimubted l)y a desire to
yield my son an enmple, and to leave for him a rep utation that
mio-ht
be useful to himself.
u

All this was well appreciated lJy

Robert, and, to the last, no son was ever more clutifol or more
J.evotedly fond of his parents.
"But, in the midst of the brightest prospects, just on the
eve of completing his Collegiate term, with plans already
arranged to accomplish him abroad as well as at home, surrounded by Classmates to whom he was warmly attached, with
a President at hand whom he lo ved and venerated, and other
friends at Cambridge to awaken the strongest attachments to
life, and full of the instinctive principle of self-preservation, he
fell without an apparent cause to ruffle the smooth current of
his life, which seems to have passed into Eternity under some
hallucination arising from the morbid condition of his brain,
too sudden and too powerful to be restrained by as great an
accumulation of blessings as was ever enjoyed upon earth.

We

may abide in the certainty that r eason was utterly overthrown ;
but must tum to an inscrutable Providence for permitting an
act, against which, in the ordinary exercise of the mind, He has
adjudged the highest penalty.

For my own part, I look upon

I,'"

112

it as upon any unavoidable accident, and as a dispensation
resulting from natural Jaws.

When reason is subverted, what

remains of the ·wreck is proue to inflict upon the body the rul.ns
whi<.:h it suffers itself, or to bring upon others the direst calamities.

This is equally common to the wise and the foolish, to

the good and the bad.

Its final causes must be therefore

intended in \Visdom for some salutary effect upon the living;
and when you shall have reflected upon this subject, you will
be able to trace out the secret influences of such events upon
society, and how they may seem to be ordained for the common good.
"Perhaps I owe you an apology for the length of my letter;
but I have measured your interests and sensibilities, in some
degree, by my mvn.

Nor will I yet close without again assur-

ing you of the thankfulness entertained by myself and Mrs.
Paine for all your kind feeling toward our Son, and our gratitude for your sympathy with us. \Vhat I have said to you is
intended through you for the whole class, for whose happiness
and prosperity I shall ever cherish a lively interest.
" \Yhenever any of you ma:y visit New-York, I need not say
ho"- happy we shall be to see you, and to listen to your College
remm1scen ces.
" Sincerely yours,
(( MAT:.TYN

" MEssr.s. Hm:rn1 \ iV. HADrns,
}
I::r
cl
E,,])\\Alm II
- . :.I.ALL, an
\VrLLIA~r

C.

Br.ADLEY,

Gil

.

commias-'tts te.. "

PAIKE.

113

LETTER AND RESOLUTIONS FRO \[ TH E RU.\[F011D SOC IETY, OF HAIWARD
UNI VERSITY.

"C~urnRIDGE,

"DEAR

jJiurch 20, 1851.

Sm :-Having been appointed by the Rumford

Society to prepare R esolutions expressive of t he feelings of its
Members upon the death of your Son, we have eude:wored to
perform that duty, and we transmit to you a copy of the R eso. lutions adopted by the Society upon that occasion.
"The Rumford Society was formed for the promotion of
chemical studies among the Undergraduates, and for nearly
three years Robert had been an active and most valued member.

Feeling an unusual interest in the study which brought

us together, he seemecl almost indispensable to our Society, and
he had twice been elected to the office of President, which he
held at the time of his death. The many services which he has
rendered to us as our President, and as a member, will never
be forgotten, and we feel that we have, indeed, met with a loss
which can never be made up t o us.
"vVe know full well how inadequate any mere words of
ours will be to address you upon this most affiicting occurrence,
or to presume to intrude upon grief such as yoms must be ; but
we should fail to do justice to our own feelings, if we omitted
15

114

to ask permission to j oin om expression of sympathy with the
many others that this sad eYent has called forth.
" Please accept, Sir, for :yourself and Mrs. Paine, the accompanying Resolutions, as a slight token of the heartfelt sympathy
of the Rumford Society, and of ourselves, both as its members
and as Classmates of your Son.
" \Ve remain, :rours r espectfully,
" vVILLIAll!

HENRY
" PROF.

•

\V. GooDWTN',

\V.

HAYNES.

M. p AIKE."

'J'HE 11ESOLU'£10NS.

"Resoltwl, -That by the recent death of Robert Troup
Paine, of the Senior Class, the Rumford Society has been
depriYed of an able and efficient President, an active member,
and a most esteemed friend ; and, while we can never forget
the man3r -..;alualJle services rendered by him t o the Society, ·we
shall never cease to remem1Jer him with feelings of the strongest
affection, and of th e high est regard.

"Resol1 ed, -Tl1at 1-re cleep1y sympathize with the Parents
1

of our deceased friend iu their berea1·ement, and we would
hope to offer them some slight consolation in the assurance that
their Son secured the affection and r espect of all who were associated with him in our Society.
Li

'i1ii

·\
!

'

ll :)

" R e.solued,-That a Copy o f th ese Heso lutious ht\ transmitted to the Parents of our bte Pre:'J ideut, in behalf of the
Society."

LETTEI~

.fHO\ I THE i\T E:l lBERS OF TUE C:. G. I. CLL'l3 0.f 1-LUWARD

UNI VERC:I'l'Y.

" C.urn RIDGE,

"Dl'.:Ag

Jfarch 17, 1861.

Sm: -Although as Members of the Senior Class

we have most heartily joined in thP R esolutions which have
been sent to yo u, on the death of your Son, om Classmate, yet
we were bound to Lim by a dearer and a closer tie, which
prompts us in justice to our own feelings to address you in a
different character.

He was one of the pleasantest and most

cherished members of a little Club of eight, comprising only
the most intimate and familiar friemls.

Our objects were both

li terary nnd social, and for each he was particularly qualified.
His literary contributions bore the characteristic marks of Lis
genius ; and Lis smiling face and sparkling wit were the delight
and ornament of the social board.

In such a close connection,

we could not fail of becoming intimately acquainted with the
character of every member; and we are most ha1)PY to say,
with perfect fr:mkness, that ther e was no one more beloved and
respected than brother Paine. His place can never be supplied,
and never agam can we meet, as we have before. vVe feel

116

almost a claim to mingle our tears and sympathy with yours,
·'11111

for he was very dear to us all.
"Will you, dear Sir, and Mrs. Paine, accept this last token
of affection from his most intimate friends ; and whenever you
look upon this badge (a silver key and chain), do not forget
that your Son possessed the warmest love and esteem of the

S. G. I. Club.

Seal of tbe Club.

AMICIT.£ YIT.£]
[
YINUM.

" HENRY Vil. HAYNES, P1·es.
EDwARD F. RAYMOND, V. Pr·es.
CHARLES DEXTER, Sec'y.
:rvr. w. GooDwrn,
0. 0. MITCHELL,
ARTHUR H. PoOR,
J. i;vARREN To\\LE.

-vv

" PnoF. M. PAINE."

Robert was also a member of the ancient literary Club, the
Hasty-Pudding.

LETTER FROM: ROBER'r 's FELLOW-BOAR.DERS.

" CAMBRIDGE, ~March

25, 1851.

" DEAR Sm : - It is with deep sorrow that we, lately Fellow-Board ers with your Son, address you at this time; but we
should do injustice to our feelings were we to refrain from offer-

117

ing to you om· sympathy in your afliictiou, and to your Son's
memory that tribute of respect and esteem which in our hearts

'

we pay.
"vVe mourn his loss. vVe deeply regret, that, at so early
an age he should lJe cut off, when the future seemed so full of
fair promise, and the hopes which clustered around him, and

the anxieties which had ever been felt for him, seemed destined,
the one to be fulfilled, and the other to be dispelled.

But,

since it has pleased God to determine otherwise, we would
ofter to you that alleviation which a deep sympathy with you
in your severe trial may afford, and t rust that the Hanel of Infinite Love may be outstretched t o strengthen and comfort you.
" vVhile .we contemplate with sorrow the early death of
your Son, we feel that there is ground for solace in the remembrance of his character.

vV e knew him upright, kind in his

feelings, and amiable and agreeable in his deportment ; and it
gives us pleasure to add our testimony to his worth.
"Accept this slight expression of our sympathy for Mrs.
Paine and yourself from, dear Sir,
" Your ohd't Servants,
"F. FROTHINGHAM,
J.

R.

URIEL

J OIIN

ERVING,
R ussELL,

CROCKER,

B. c. CLARK, J:R,
G. E. DANA,
D AVID H. COOLIDGE.

PIERCE,

F. H.

H.

J'R.,

" PuoF. PAINE."

----

118

Among the many agreeable things which were about to
I

take place, ai'.tu.

f'

which Robert had spoken with much plea-

sure to one or both of his Parents, was the fraternal ceremony
of Clct88 Day, which was celebrated on the 20th of June.
To render the following communication intelligible to all.
who may receive this Volume, an Extract is prefixed from a
work lately published at Cambridge, entitled "A COLLECTION
OF COLLEGE \V ORDS AND CusToMs."

"The Custom at Hanard College of observing with appropriate exercises the day
on which the Senior Class finish their studies, is of very early date."
"The biographer of ll:Ir. Robert Treat Paine, refening to 'a Valedictory Poem
delivered by Paine, June 21st, 1792,' says, 'The 21st of every .Tune, till of late years,
has been the <lay on which the members of tbe Senior Class closed their collegiate
studies, and retired to make preparations for the ensuing Commencement.

On this

day, it 'ms usual for one member to deliver an oration, and another a poem ; such
members being appo;nted by their Classmates.'

There '"as a procession, attended by

the President, Professors, and Tutors, prayers, music, &c.
"Alterations were continually made in the observance of Class Day, and in twenty
years after the period last mentioned, its character bad in many respects changed."
"The obserrnnces of the Day, whi ch, in a small way, may be considered as a
rim! Commencement, are at present as follo"·s. The Orator, P oet, Oclist, Chaplain,
and Marsl1al>,

l1n1~ng

been prm·iously clwsen, on the moming of Class Day the Sen-

iors assem Llc i11 the yard, aud, preceded by tl1e Land, walk in procession to one of the
halls of the College, where a prayer is oftcrcd by the Class Chaplain.

They then

proceed to the President's house, and escort him to tlie Chnpd, where the following
order is obserYed .
present year.)

(Tl1is " i ll appear from the sulJjoinecl Order of Exercises for the

The Class then wi thdr;iw to Hnrranl Hall, necompanie<l by their

friends ::incl imitc<l guests, where a rich collation is provided.
"After an intcnal of from one to hrn hour;;, the dancing commences in tl1e yard.
CotillioJLs and the easier dances arc hc·re performed, Lut tlic ~port closes in the hall

110
with the P olb ;rnll other fashionable steps.

The Seniors again form, and make the

circuit of the prd, cheering the buil<ling".

They then :i.sscmble under the Liberty

Tree, arounll which, with hands joined, they dance, after singing the stllllents' adopted
song, 'Auld Lang Sync.' At parting, each member takes a sprig or a flower from the
beautiful '\Vreath' which surrounds the 'Farewell Tree,' which is sacredly treasured
as a lrtst memento of college sce nes and enjoyments.

Thus close the exercises of the

day, after whi ch the Class separate until Commencement."

LETTER FROAI THE AUTHOR OF THE FOLLOWIKG ODE, RELATIVE TO
CLASS DAY.

" NEWBURYPORT,
,, PROF.

June 21, 1851.

p AINE :

"DEAR

Sm : - In accordance with my own desire as well

as the expressed wish of the beloved and honored President of
our University, I transmit to you a copy of the Order of Exercises on

Ollt88 Dlty

(yesterday).

" It was my privilege to enjoy an intimate intercourse with
your lamented Son.

I hope the allusion to our mutual bereave-

ment may be no less acceptable to your feelings than it is sincerely expressive of my own.
"Very truly your friend,
"JOSHUA

D.

ROBINSON."

120

"ORDER OF EXERCISES.

I. MUSIO.- BY THE BAND.
II. PRAYER- BY THE REV. JAMES

i;

w ALKER,

D. D .

III. ORATION.- BY GEORGE BRADFORD, DUXBURY.
I

I

I,

•

!1

'i '

IV. MUSIO.- BY THE BAND.

V. POEM. -BY WILLIAM CZAR BRADLEY, BRATTLEBORO', VT.

VI. ODE,
BY JOSHUA DANFORTH ROBINSON, NEWBURYPORT.

·!! \
,111

Tu:m - " Fair Harvard."

.\\ i
11111''
,\I

,111 I
I:

!I\!\

I

1111

The days of thy tenderly nurture are done,
\71{ e call for the lance and the shield ;
There 's a battle to fight and a crown to be won,
And onward we press to the field !
But yet, .Alma Mater, before we depart,
Shall the song of our farewell be sung,
And the grasp of the hand shall express for the heart
Emotions too deep for the tongue.
This group of thy sons, Almn, Mater, no more
May ghdden thine ear with their song,
For soon shall we stand upon Time's crowded shore,
And mix in humanity's throng.

121
0, glad be the voices that ring through thy halls
When the echo of ours shall have flown,
And the footste ps that sound when no longer thy walls
Shall answer the tread of our own.

Abs! our clear Mother, we ·see on thy face
A shadow of sorrow to-day ;
For while we are clasped in thy farewell embrace,
And pass from thy bosom away,
T o part with the living, we know, must recall
The lost whom thy love still embalms,
That one sigh must escape and one tear-drop must fall
For the children.,., that died in thy arms.

But the flowers of affection, bedewed by the tears
In the twilight of Memory distilled,
And sunned by the love of our earlier years,
When the soul with their beauty was thrilled,
Untouched by the frost of life's winter, shall blow,
And breathe the same odor they gave
When the vision of youth was entranced by their glow,
Till, fadeless, they bloom o'er the grave."

'·" Referring, also, to J 01rn
distinguish ed promise.

NOYES MEAD,

of Brattleboro', Vt., a youth of very

.
122

EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MR. PIERCE, ONE OF ROBER'r's
FELLOW-BOARDERS.
"CAMBRIDGE, June 11, 1851.
"l\'.[y DE.A.R Mns. PAINE:" -

"I had become very much at-

tached to Robert, more so than to any other of my Classmates,
and it is a source of pleasure and delight to me to recall the

r

many pleasant hours I enjoyed in his company, and add my
testimony to that of all who knew him, of his goodness and virtue.

No one knew him but to love him.

open-hearted, and cordial.

To all he was kind,

He was, I think, the most wonder-

ful instance of kind-heartedness and good temper I have ever
had the good fortune to meet with.
"During an acquaintance of three years, when I saw him
several times daily, I never saw him excit.ed into any thing like
a passion, or knew him to have uttered a harsh or unkind word.
He never noticed or remembered an injury, and was always
desirous to impute to others the best of motives, and excuse, if
possible, their faults.

He was beloved by all, Teachers as well

as Classmates.

"In a conversation with Mr. Bowen (the Professor of History, and Editor of the North American Review), some time
since, an allusion was made to him, and he spoke of his talents,

123

abilitie;:;, and character, in the highest terms.
also spoke of him with great affection.

The Batchelders

He visited them, as

you bow, very often, and took great pleasure in wandering
about the garden, and examining the flowers in their Conservatory.
" I consider it an honor as well as a pleasure to reckon him
among my dearest friends.

By his death, a void has been

created which can only be filled, in any degree, by the remembrance of his many beautiful traits of character and amiable
disposition. A gloom has been cast over the Class which is but
increased as the time of our separation drnws near.

In all our

preparations for the closing festivities, for which I must say I
have little zeal or inclination, the thought continually occurs to
me, how Robert would enjoy it all were he here.

He seemed

devoted to College, and fond of all his Classmates, and was
prized and beloved by all of them.
" It was but a few days after the commencement of the

Term (two or three days before his death), that we were talking of a promise which we made to each other last Term, while
you were in Cambridge, and I believe in your hearing, namely,
-that he should come and see me when he was fifty years old,
and I, in turn, visit him when I should reach that age.

He

spoke about it and I had forgotten it; and he made a suggestion that we should have a written contract, to which I assented.

We were at Mrs. Clarke's table at the time ; but the con-

tract was not committed to writing.

God grant the meeting

124

may take place in a better World, where he has gone before us.
" Your friend, and the Classmate and
" Friend of Robert,

" J. R.

PIERCE."

EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MR. F. C. BROWNE.

"CAMBRIDGE,

" DR.

.May 11, 1851.

M. p A.HfE :

" DEAR

Srn : -As one who was very intimate with and

enjoyed the friendship of your Son, I feel compelled to write

,

you a few words in regard to him.
"Robert was the first friend I made in Cambridge.

On the

first day of our examination for admission, four years ago, I
found myself beside him at the dinner-table, and we entered
into conversation.

I accompanied him to his room, was intro-

duced to his Chum, and we soon became intimate. The acquaint ance thus early formed I have never had reason to regret.
Throughout our Course I have ever valued the friendship of
Robert highly, and have enjoyed the Society of but very few
as I enjoyed his."
"I, too, had been obliged to go to the South for my health,
and it was at 'Key West,' in Florida, that the sad tidings of
his death reached me.

The shock was severe to me.

There

125

are but very few persons whose death would have affected me
so much; for I, in common with many others of his Classmate::i,
bad a sort of brotherly regard for Robert.

:Moreover, he was

the last Classmate with whom I spoke, before leaving for the
South (he having called upon me as I spent a few hours in
New-York, on my way), and up to the time of his death he
was the only one of my Cambridge Friends who had written to
me since my arrival in Florida.

His lett er was written from

Virginia, and contained a short account of his visit to the
'Natural Bridge,' &c.

It was evidently written in good spirits,

and I thought that he must be enjoying his trip greatly, and
promised myself a history thereof when we should again meet
at Cam bridge.
" I am here again with my Class; but one is gone. - vVe
miss Robert everywhere.

We miss him at the Societies; but

most of all we miss his cheerful face from the social circle at
the evening fireside, for this was considered incomplete unless
the presence of Robert was insured."

"I shall ever cherish the

memory of the Classmate and the Friend, the dea;r F riend, who
has passed from among us."
" If you desire it, I will forward you a copy of the Letter

which he sent me from Virginia; probably one of the last he
ever wrote.
" vVith assurance of the most heartfelt sympathy, I remain,
dear Sir, truly yours,
" FRANCIS

c.

BROWNE."

•
12{)

Subsequently, Mr. Browne had the kindness to forward a
copy of Robert's Letter from the "Natural Bridge," which is

I

!\

inserted here as a cumulative illustration of his character, and
especially of the happy condition of his mind.

i

:i i
'I
I

ii

EXTRACT FROM MR. BROWNE'S LETTER.

" CAMBRIDGE,

" DR.

I

'~

p AINE

" DEAR

June 7, 1851.

:

Srn : - I hasten to comply with your request in

reference to that last letter I received from Robert.

It was

short, and taken up principally with an account of the objects
of interest which he found around him in Virginia.

He was

evidently enjoying himself in the highest degree, and his mind
seemed complete"l;y occupied with the magnificent sce?-ery before
him, and directed his pen to them to the exclusion of all other

~

11

subjects.
"A Memoir of Robert would be highly valued and appreciated by his Classmates and Friends."
"I remain very sincerely yours,

"F. C.

Ill
i
11111

II
I

BROWNE."

127

ROBERT'S LETTER 'l'O

:..rn.

BIWWNE, THEN AT 'KEY WEST,' FLORIDA.

"NATURAL BRIDGE, VA.,
" D EAR FRANK : - I

wonders of the world.

Feb. 13, 1851.

have reached, at last, one of the great
It is one of the grandest things I can

imagine.
" You approach the Bridge from the top of a hill, and, in
descending, you cross it, but would have no idea that it is a
Bridge.

On one side, to be sure, you look off into a wild and

almost unfathomable abyss; but, on the other you have rocks
and trees, so that the appearance is more that of the side of a
mountain. - But, go down below, and you have a stupendous
sight ; - the chasm extending on both sides until it loses itself
among the hills, - overhead, the rocky arch, ninety feet long
and eighty feet wide, spanning the fearful gap at a distance of
215 feet above the Creek which rolls at your feet; while, on
each side of the creek are perpendicular palisades of naked
rock.
"The best view from the Ravine is about ten or fifteen rods
down the Creek ; but the best view of all is from half a mile
distant, when, coming to a rise in the road, this great Masterpiece of Nature bursts upon your view, displaying, far better

...

128

than from any other position, the beauty and symmetry of its

Here you stop to gaze in wonder and admiration.
" I left New-York about a week after you, and arrived
here day before yesterday. To-day I leave for 'IVashington. I
should like t o spend rweek.s here, as the country is exceedingly
romantic and interesting ; altogether superior t o any I have
seen else_where in Virginia.
" On my way, I visited 'W eyer's Cave,' where I staid two
days, and explored it thoroughly; and, on my way to the
';Bridge,' I also visited the 'Warm Springs,' 'Hot Springs,' and
'vVhite Sulphur Springs.' I omit a description of those places,
as I fear I am writing for the 'Dead L etter Office.'

arch.

" 'IVe passed through some large tracts called the ' Big Cow
Pasture,' 'Big Bull Pasture,' &c.

You may be assured I felt

very much at home in the 'Big Calf P asture I'
"Remember me to Oliver, and wishing you both as fine a
i

time as I have had,

II
I

" I remain your Friend and Classmate,
" RonERT TnouP PAINE."

·ii

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f!
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1111

i\\

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12\)

E:X:TRAC'l'S OF TWO LETTERS FROM MRS. M. M. BATCHELDER TO ROBERT'S
MOTHER.
I

" CAMBRIDGE,

" DEAR :MAD.A.;vr : - I

ilfarch 10 and Jnne 8, 1851.

I

I 1

beg you will permit me, in this your

great a:ffiiction, to mingle my tears with yours, and express the
deep sympathy myself, and son, and daughter, feel for you in
the distressing event which has so unexpectedly deprived us of
a dearly beloved friend.

I pray God you may be enabled to

bear the shock with some degree of fortitude, sustained by Him
vVho has said, 'I will not leave thee nor fors ake thee.'
"I had requested S. this morning to call on your son, as we
were quite anxious to see him.

He had ever been in the habit

of visiting us in the most familiar manner, and we looked upon
him with great regard.

He had not been in to claim the floral

picture which he had left with us, and which has so constantly
reminded us of you.

H e told me with a smile of satisfaction

that his Father gathered the flowers in many long walks."
"How often has Robert passed my window with a bunch of
flowers, and sometimes has brought them in to B. Once, I
remember his saying he had had a most delightful walk of
twenty miles that morning, while his face glowed with health

·[

I

and happiness."
11

i

130
"S. and Robert, from the circumstance of their religious
feelings being much in unison, were very intimate during the
Freshman and Sophomore years ; but S. had not strength for
the long walks in which your Son delighted."
"Robert was universally beloved and respected, and the
talents he displayed promised a brilliant career.

At the time

of the dreadful catastrophe which cast such a fearful shadow
over us, it was said by my family, and by all who knew him,
that he was the last person in the College we should have
named as committing the act.. His path .seemed strewed with
:flowers.

Every thing which makes life valuable was his.

here we see through a glass darkly.
son complains.

But,

Our hearts rebel, our rea-

But what is our life?

How soon will the hum-

ble Christian acknowledge that the 'God of all the Earth doeth
right.'"
"Very truly your sympathizing Friend,
" M. M. BATCHELDER."

EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MRS. GEORGE PAINE.

" BOSTON, MASS., .klarch

16, 1851.

"MY DEAR BR.OTHER AND SISTER :"-"From having suffered
myself, I know, full well, how little consolation words afford; and,
in like manner, I have learned how prone the bleeding heart
is to look only at the darkest side of grief. So, allow me, your

131
'

, "~.: elder sister in sorrow, to point out to you the fairer side, which,
·;;· at the least, must bring alleviation.

' :•,
Robert's beautiful life.
..,.

This is, the recollection of

I have seen him sufficiently often to

,

learn his habits of thought and his sweet confiding nature ;
and nothing presents itself more distinctly to my mind than the

singular purity of his character.

There was an entire freedom

from the taint which intercourse with the world sometimes
gives, and which we deplore, not seldom, in young. men of

his age.
" How more and more, as the stunning effects of this affiiction subside, will you dwell with a sad satisfaction on his
affectionate temper, his childlike, innocent, joyous spirit, wondrously blended, in his case, with the more manly qualities, as
industry and perseverance in the investigations of science and
learning.
"What a pure joy, to look back over the twenty-one years
of his blossoming youth, and see no act which has caused you
to weep, no word that you could have wished unsaid.

And,

brighter still, to remember bow very early bis religious nature
was unfolded, and how conscientiously he adhered to his own
rule of right.

Truly, my Friends, you have been blessed in

having such a Son!

And, although for a brief period he be

bidden from your eyes, yet surely, yet surely, such a Son liveth.
Oh yes, he liveth where there is no more pain.
lived here in vain.

Nor has he

How has your care for him been the source

of a well of gladness in your hearts, which else bad dried up!

----

!il
:111

132
11111

How greatly has parental affection for this child developed the
sunniest side of yourselves ! How marked the impression of

111111

his goodness left on the memory of his friends, every where!
Such fruits would be an ornament to maturer years, and they

:1~1

: 1 ~1 1

were already ripe with him.
well!

Dear, beautiful boy, thou sleepest

And, for yourselves, I pray you forget not that God is,

and that he directs all in Love.
"Very sincerely, your Friend and Sister,

" M. 0 . p AT.NE."

,1~1 .
i!lllllll

E XTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MR. S. BA'l'CHELDER, JR. 1 TO ROBERT'S
MOTHER.

':~! '111111
" CAMBRIDGE, M ASS.,

111

I

" MY

DEAR

Sept. 29, 1851.

MADAM: -· I have taken the liberty of address-

ing you in behalf of my Mother and Sister, who are at present
fully occupied."
" The corresponden ce which has passed between my Mother
and Sister, and yourself, with respect to the melancholy bereavement which you have sustained, led me to resign into their
hands the melancholy satisfaction of expressing to you, as one
of Hobert's Classmates and intimate friends, my deep and everabiding sense of his character and manly virtues, and my most
sincere and heartfelt sympathy with those Parents who have
lost, in him, their sole earthly stay and comfort."

133
"your Son was remarkable for great originality of thought,
which impressed itself strongly on his conversation and manners, cheering and entertaining all; while few would be able to
account for the pleasure they experienced.

This would natu-

rally be easier for those who saw him but seldom, while those
who were habitually in his society enjoyed his acute remarks,

his salient wit, his cordial nature, without stopping to inquire
into the source of their enjoyment, or to note each particular
occasion and circumstance which called it forth. In vain do we,
his Classmates and companions, who, at this moment, look back
upon the .years we spent together so pleasantly in College,
strive to realize that he is no longer one of our number.

It

seems difficult to believe that at some approaching College
anniversary we shall not again clasp the hand of our warmhearted Classmate, and listen again, as we have so often listened,
(alas, that it had been with more retentive ears,) to those words
of bis, which, as the imperfect utterance of a noble and generous natme, rendered him, as it has since rendered his memory,
inexpressibly clear to us.
" Permit me, Madam, to hope that you will not attribute
my past silence to indifference, or forgetfulness of the dead.
There are few, if any, in our class who sustained a greater, a
more irreparable loss in the death of your Son, than myself.
But all the grief of the companion, of the friend, pales and
retires before that overwhelming, crushing sorrow, vast and
incomprehensible in its magnitude, sublime and sacred in its

134
intensity, which only a parent's heart can feel in all its affiuence
of woe.
" It would be not only presumptuous, but unnecessary in

I:

me, to allude to those consolations whose healing efficacy you
have already, I know, experienced.

Let me venture to hope

that they will continue to alleviate the poignancy of your affiiction, and that in the sympathies and assurances of friends, and
in the contemplation of the relics and mementoes of your Son'ti
life and character, you may secure that pe1fect and hopeful

I·
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I

•

resignation, which is the Christian mourner's peculiar privilege,
and only final consolation on Earth.
" With sentiments of regard and sympathy for Dr. Paine,
allow me to subscribe myself, my dear Madam,
"Very respectfully and sincerely yours,
" SAMUEL BATCHELDER, JR."

FROM MISS ISABELLA BATCHELDER TO ROBERT'S MOTHER.

''CAMBRIDGE,

J une 8, 1851.

"MY DEAR MADAM: - I venture to send you some lines of
mine, not from their intrinsic merit, but with the hope that
they may interest you from the allusion to :your Son.

I'

He was

a true lover of Nature, in all her ever-varying forms ; and the
conversations we had together usually turned upon flowers, a
subject in which we heartily sympathized.

9;

I remember the

135
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J'

.

~·

time I saw him, he spoke of the hyacinth as a favorite

• fost

:flower,.:<· and as he described its beauty his eyes lighted up with
enthusiasm, such as only an ardent admirer of these 'stars of
Earth' could fee1.

He has ever since been associated m my

mind with that grief-inscribed and mournful :flower, as the
Greeks term it ; and when I look upon its blossoms, his form
rises before me as I last saw him, the impersonation of health
and cheerfulness.
" The two other Persons mentioned in the verses are a
daughter of Nathan Hale, of Boston, and Miss Porter, a sister
of one of your Son's Classmates.
"Accept my deepest sympathy in your sorrows, and believe
me, dear Madam,
"Very truly yours,
" ISABELLA BATCHELDER."

*

It was so throughout his childhood. For many years before he entered College he cultivated this plant in his chamber. H e continued this practice at his room
in College till the last winter, when, his Mother missing them from their accustomed
place, inquired the reason of their absence. He answered that he had ceased to raise
them, " as it was too painful to see them die."

136

IN MEMORY OF

R . '11 • PA I N E , S,._ E . HAL E,
AND

A. PORTER.

"WEEPING Mourners in their anguish
Slight the comfort Friends can give ;
Sympathy of tears and sighing
Cannot make the lost ones live.
Ye have stood beneath the shadow
That Asrael's pinions left ;
'Mid your darkness and your sorrow
Comes the thought that 'Jesus wept.'

" To His sufferings, more than human,
With the weight of worlds oppressed,
Outcast from His own Creation,
Finding here no home of rest,
Yet He mourned with pitying feeling
O'er the grave where Lazarus slept;
Nature claimed from grief a token
\Vh cn the sinless 'Jesus wept.'
" Still the words that once He uttered
Bring to us the self-same trust,
'l'hough we heard the saddening sentence
'Earth to Earth, and dust to dust.'

rn7
Standing at Death's gloomy portal,
Faith has made the vision plain ;
'Tis the seed-time, not the harv est,
And om friends shrtll rise rtgain.
" These three Spirits, who have left us
For the joys from us concealed,
H eard their Master's Heavenly teachings
In the Lilies of the field.
Lovers of the buds and flowers,
Like the glorious King of old,
'l'hey in each one found a lesson
Precious as the hoarded gold.
" Thou, the first, who passed in silence,
Closed thine eyes upon the light
As the lamp of reason flickered,
Leaving thee in darkest night ;
Yet the blossoms that thou lovedst
Smiled around thy mournful bier,
For the Violet and the Snowdrop
Told that Spring again was near.
"And the Hyacinth's pale ringlets,
-With its tones of deepest woe*
Spake thy Parents' withering sorrow,
'Neath the agonizing blow.

* " In

the flower he weaved
The sad impression of his sighs ; which bears
Ai - di displayed in tuneral characters." - Ovm.
18

Ii: I'

138
Friendship turns to thee, fair Maiden,
From thy weary couch of pain ;
Thou hast passed the gate of darkness Oan we call thee back again ?

11

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11111111

" Bright one, like the Fuschia glowing,
Gentle as the Lily's breath,
Full of health, and life, and feeling Where the link 'twixt tllee and death ?
Memory;+ wakes a note of sadness,
And again the Almond tree
Sheds its wreath of pale Spring blossoms,
Dearest, over thee.

T

" Suddenly the dark-robed Angel
Bore the third pure Spirit home ;
Life was bright, and hope before her,
But the Saviour bade her come.
She, too, joined the H eavenly chorus,
With unfading flowerets crowned ;
Plants of earth breathe - resurgemus,
Springing from the hallowed ground."

II

·'k

The <lay of this Friend's death was the Anniversary of that of another.

139

LEITERS FROM ROUER1"S CLASSMATES AT COLUMBIA COLLEGE
GRAMMAR SCHOOL.

EXTRA.Cl' OF A LET'l'ER FROM MR. BABCOCK, A STUDEN'l' OF DIVIN I'l'Y,
TO DR. PArnE.

"NEw-Yom;::, _May, 1851.
" DEAR

Srn: -The token which your kind consideration

promptecl you to send me I received on Saturday last, and take
this means of expressing to you my thanks.

It will remain

with me a memento of your Son, and a remembrance of school- _
boy associations, with which he was so largely connected.
Those associations stand separate and distinct ; and however
recent events have cast _a shade where the heart would fain
have traced the line of early and bright relation, I remember
Robert chiefly as I knew him then. He has left us, indeed, but
it was and is a gratification to my fe elings that I could join in
the last act of respect we can pay.
"My intercourse with your Son within the school-room was
peculiarly close, for in the strife for place in the class I was
continually brought into contact with him, and had a favorable
opportunity of testing his intellectual qualities. After reading

140
your letter (addressed to the Senior Class of Harvard College,)
I find an explanation, too, for other parts of his character, less
likely to be appreciated by boys, and under the restraint of
school.

His fondness for the Scriptures appeared in every

Essay he was required to write, though we were too apt to

___....__

attribute the allusions or literal quotations to a mere habit of
composition, or perhaps the suggestions of others.*
" His pers_everance was a remarkable trait, and the deter-

mined energy with which he would follow out a favorite object,
left firmly fixed upon me the impression that he would attain
eminence in the profession to which his inclination should lead
him.

I felt that there was some one for which he was peculi-

arly fitted, though what it would be I could only conjecture.
will mention the following incident.

I

The last year we were

together, our first recitation in the morning was Greek grammar.

In this Robert determined to perfect himself, and accord-

ingly took the lead of his class. There, week in and week out
he used to sit, and our efforts and artifices alike were seldom
able to displace him ; or if dislodged towards the end of the
week, the average standing would return him again to his
post.
"After I entered College I rarely met him, though at his
last visit to the City he spent an hour with me on Friday evening previous to his journey South.

*

We spent the time in talk~

No suggestion to this effect was ever made to him by his Parents.

141
rY
0

over past days, and he informed me of the fortunes of some

eommon acquaintances of whom I had lost sight."
,, I can sympathize in the fond eagerness with which you
<would have watched his course, and seen him giving up his life
~. ,to his Redeemer's cause, in the labors of the holy ministry.

i

· Nay, I can come nearer yet. Had it been God's will, how glad
· • should I have been to have

l

1

co~operated

with him in that field

where still 'the harvest is plenteous, but the laborers are f ew.'
, ' ·But, while we are prone to wonder, that, amid this dearth, one
. should be cut off who would have given himself to the work,
who will pretend to say that the sad event has not done more
for that very cause he loved, than a living sacrifice of his time
and talents?

If it be required that one be born blind' that the

works of God should be made manifest in him,' surely we may
' conclude that the same imperative necessity directs the other
dispensations of our Heavenly Father ; that He seeks His own
Glory in the promotion of our welfare."·
" ·with the prayer that your bereavement may be softened
to both the Parents of my Friend by the constant presence of
the Comforter, and that his early death shall fully work out
the designs of Heavenly Mercy by leading his Associates to the
Gospel warning and invitation, I remain,
"Most respectfully yours,

" E.

c.

BABCOCK."

,lli!i'

142

EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM MR. J. F. SCHR<EDER, JR.

"NEW-YORK,

May 27, 1851.

"RESPECTED Srn:-I have received the token which you
was pleased to transmit to me as a memorial of your deceased
Son ; and, need I say that I shall cherish it as a prize around
which shall cluster the most endearing associations.

It will

ever call to mind the many happy hours that have been passed
by the writer. in the company of him, whose untimely death is
mourned the most by those who knew him the best."
"During the much too brief period that we were Classmates
at the Grammar School, he who addr esses you was proud to
number Robert Troup Paine among his friends.

Indeed, his

uniform sweetness of disposition won golden opinions from us
·

all.

111!11:1

The unceasing contest between ambitious spirits, insepara-

I

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,1 , I

). 1~1 i
I

ble from a life at school, occasionally awoke from slumber the
harsher feelings of our nature.

But, respected Sir, in all the

well-meant, though earnest battles fought by those ·who pressed

j1

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·,.'11'·'
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I

the gates of learning, your Son was ever the same happy mor-

I

tal; never scrupling- to assist a rival, yet proud, ·withal, of that
self-reliance which thus far had borne him nobly on.

He

inflicted no wound, and brooded over no fancied wrong.

He

pursued 'the even tenor of his way,' preserving his honor ever

11:11111

143
untainted, never courting Virtue on account of th e benefits
which fl.ow in her train, but for her own ::;acred self.

H e fixed

his eyes on the Temple for the sake of the Divinity which
dwelt within.
"If, indeed, he had ambition, it was unmarked by grossness.
It was pure and elevated in its manifestation; such as we might
suppose the Angels to cherish in their efforts to outstrip one
another in their approaches to the Fountain of Truth and P erfect Intelligence. vVhile he moved among us he was marked
by that sensitiveness of spirit, which often, we might say invariably, accompanies exalted merit; yet on no occasion, to my
recollection, did that sensitiveness degenerate into vindictiveness.

No, when his sense of pride was wounded, he summoned

Philosophy and Religion to his aid.
deeply tinged with melancholy.
company.

Still, his mind seemed

He rather kept aloof from

T1if Themes, which were weekly required of our

Class, were of a grave and serious nature. He seemed to soar
far above the practicabilities of life, 'ever dwelling in the
Heaven of contemplation.'

His favorite, as declamatio?- exer-

cise, was a piece entitled the ·' Ocean,' to be found, if I mistake
not, in 'Lovell's U.S. Speaker.'
" Robert's Classmates were early impressed with the conviction that he possessed an extraordinary mind; and those with
whom he was most intimate, were willing to prophesy that he
would rise to eminence in any station of life.

Yet, with all

his abilities, he was distinguished for a genuine modesty ; and,

4)·

144

when he did rank above his fellows in the honors of his class
(which was by no means seldom) his elevation was oftentimes
much against his own desire.

The consciousness of superior

merit, with him, was a sufficient reward.
"In truth, Sir, his conduct, view it in what light we choose,
was exemplary, commanding the respect of his equals, and
securing the esteem of his Instructors.

I feel, Sir, that to offer

consolation on an occasion so mournful as the one which forms
the subject of my epistle, would but be a mockery of your sorrow. The power of consolation resides in Higher Hands. 'Let
us humbly kiss the rod,' and acknowledge that He ordereth all
things well.
" Yours, with feelings of the deepest respect,
" JOHN

F.

ScHR<EDER, JR.

" DR. M. p AINE."

The foregoing portrait is by a student of Divinity, Son of
the Rev. Dr. Schrreder ; and how well it is drawn, and how
well it corresponds with Robert's later life, will be seen from
the preceding correspondence.
Other very gratifying letters have been received, which the
Parents have felt less at liberty to connect with the Memoir.

145

RESOLUTIO NS OF ROBERT'S CLASSil[ATES AT THE GRA;>DL<\.R SCHOOL OF
COL UllIBB. COLLEGE.

"At a meeting of the former Classmates of Robert Troup
Paine, deceased, late of the Senior Class of Harvard University,
held in this City, March 19, the following Resolutions were, on
motion, unanimously adopted:

"Resoluecl, -That, in the melancholy death of Robert Troup
Paine, we have cause for the profoundest sorrow in losing a
Schoolmate, whose strict integrity, superior abilities, and persevering application, gave us every reason to expect he would,
ere long, have realized the abundant promise of his earlier
years, and rendered it no light honor to have been associated
with him in his youthful studies.
"Resolved, - . That in him we deplore the loss of a friend,
who, though separated from us during the last four years, while
pursuing his studies at an Eastern College, has not failed to
maintain the intimacy of former clays, and whose generous disposition and kindly heart won our affection and esteem.
"Resolved,-That when we remember, as we mourn over his
early grave, that his _College career was so near its close, and
his prospects in life apparently so bright, we fully realize 'the
ways of the Lord are past finding out.'
19

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1i1

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146
" Resolved, -That we most deeply sympathize wit? the
desolate Parents of the deceased in the agonizing bereavement
they have sustained, in the loss of their only child and beloved
Son.

"Resolved, -That a copy of these Resolutions, signed by
',11,

t

the Chairman and Secretary of the meeting, be sent to the
Parents, and published in two of the daily papers.

F.
Sec'y."

" GEORGE

" CHARLES

A.

SILLIMAN,

SEYMOUR,

Oliai1·man.

In concluding this part of the Memoir, his Parents would
recur to the me1ancho1y circumstances which attended the
death of their Son, and, as far as possible, supply an interpretation.

This has been done, so far as a manifest physical cause

was concerned, in his Father's Letter to the Senior Class, and
also in a preceding part of the Memoir.

To the susceptibility

of the brain, as there indicated, may be added the probability
that he was compelled, on his recent j~urney to the South, to
eat of the stimulating food which he had always found it necessary to avoid.

It is another explanatory fact, that, on the :first

morning of the three days which he spent at home, after his
return, he slept till nine o'clock, and on that of the second
morning till eleven.

This was so opposed to his uniform habit

of ear]y rising, that his Parents were alarmed, ti11, after having
been repeatedly called by themselves, his usual appearance of

147
health and buoyancy dissipated their fears.

But, more than

this, he slept in his chair, in the parlor, on the afternoon of the
£rst of those days, for an hour, while he had very rarely been
known before to have slept in the time of day; and now, too,
he was hurried in his preparations for returning to College.

It

was the subject of considerable comment between his Parents,
who, although relieved by his appearance of health and cheerfulness, entertained a lingering apprehension that all was not
right.

He also made one remark to his Mother which seemed

to her incoherent, and which is now obviously so to both of his
Parents.

It was observed, too, during the three days, and was

a subject of inquiries addressed to Robert, that he was indifferent
to his meals, and, wholly contrary to his habits, was inobservant
of their hours ; that he ate more sparingly, and of fewer things
of which he was fond, than he had been known to have done
for many years before.
There remains, however, what is undoubtedly an unequivocal evidence, especially when connected with the foregoing facts
and with the well known susceptibility of his brain, that insanity
occasionally manifested itself before his final departure for Cambridge, although not understood at .the time. This was a wild
stare, attended by a glassy appearance of his eyes, which was
noticed on one occasion by his Mother, and on another by his
Father. The first was observed by his Mother, as he stood up
in the parlor just before retiring to bed on the evening preceding his departure for Cambridge. The effect of the stare upon

148
his Mother was such as to induce her to follow him to his
chamber to ascertain whether there was any trouble affecting
him. She found him, however, cheerful and happy. The other
occasion, as witnessed by his Father, was when they were riding
together to the steamboat, at the time of his leaving the City.
The effect upon his Parents was so very unhappy that neither
mentioned it to the other . till some time after his death.

At

the expiration of eight months after that event, his Aunt and
her Daughter in this city stated to his Parents that they had
witnessed the same thing, at different times in the course of his
visit, and were affected unpleasantly by it.

The same expres-

sion was also observed by a servant who had resided many
years in his Father's house, and was so unusual that she spoke
of it some months after his death, as a suggestion of her own.
Sh~

had also repeatedly stated that she had observed. during

his late visit a change in his manners, particularly an abruptness
,ffIl l

which she had never seen before. Had all these things been
known, collectively, at the time, the condition of the Youth
would have been sufficiently manifest.

11!11

Doubtless, his paternal Grandmother witnessed a pretty
strong display of this temporary insanity as early as the Christmas of 1850, at which time he made her a visit at Haverhill.
This consisted of " an indescribable restlessness that gave her
much alarm ; " as explained verbally to his Father. That was
the amount of all he could learn. His Grandmother had known

;!ll lllli!

I ~ II,

1':1i111,1 1'
I

1'

him intimately from his earliest infancy to the last, and she bad

149
hh,

never before witnessed any thing m his manners but perfoct

ng

equanimity and gentleness.

I

The following letter from her to

ten

his Father will show the nature of her surprise and anxiety.

ng

Although 83 years of age, her judgment and observation were

y.

unimpaired.

er

tt
td
,d

LETTER FROi\I 11rns. SARAH PAINE TO HER SON, DR, PAINE.

lS

" HA VERRILL, 11.\.ss., April 4, 1851.

s-

y
e
'· ·

I

Y'

'
I

~·
I
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J

"MY DEAR DocTOR :-I have received several letters from
you since I wrote you; and, although I have not felt much like
writing on the subject, still I should have made an effort, had I
not been convinced by long experience that grief as intense as
yours must have been, is not consoled by sympathy; and I
believe that Solomon says something to the same effect. No,
my dear Son, we must draw upon our own resources, and appeal
to God in the silent watches of the night; for, whatever else
may be said, He alone has done it, and H e that inflicted the
wound can alone cure it.
"I think that Robert's mind was far from being in a healthy
state when he was here last (Dec. 25, 1850), and Jane (her
niece) remarked it too, and we conversed upon it several times.
But I could not feel justified in alarming you upon the subj ect.
Jane thought it would prove to be transient ; but that did not
satisfy me. Go where I would, and do what I would, he was

1.50

always uppermost in my mind. I had not the power to shake off
the undefinable impression; and that I think is the reason why
I received the first intelligence with so much composure. I had
been so long in preparation for something, though I could not
tell what, that I was not taken by surprise.
wife.

My love to your

I design this letter for you both.
" y OUR

MOTHER."

Robert returned from his visit on the 26th of December,
and on that day he handed in the Forensic numbered Article
XIV., written a little more than two months before his death.
It is also an important circumstance to be stated, although
long known to many, that his Mother's paternal Grandmother
was insane for many years, and that the- Brother of his Mother
was affected with monomania.

This Brother was a highly edu-

cated man, and belonged to the Bar of New-York. He evinced
an early piety, was very strictly devout through the residue of
bis life, and was a model of purity. But, be fancied, for many
years, that he was haunted by an evil spirit, which was frequently whispering evil designs into his ears.

Among these

hallucinations the principal one was a stern injunction that he
should commit some terrible act of violence ; and this embittered his happiness.

He was often known to command this

evil spirit to depart from him.
three years.

He died at the age of forty-

1.51

As this Memoir will generally fall into the hands of those
who are unacquainted with the indications of beginning insanity, and being friends of the Youth, they will be anxious for
any assistance that may guide their judgment to a clear perception of the state of his mind.

The following quotation is,

therefore, introduced.

EXTRACT FROM DR. BADELEY'S LUMLEIAN LECTURES ON THE RECIPRO·
CAL AGENCIES OF MIND AND )L.\.TTER.

"Since, then, the inva~ion of insanity is generally gradual, the slightest alteration in the habits or natural disposition (especially when there
exists an hereditary tendency), should be carefully observed. 'Few people
are phrenologists, but all are physiognomists; and the expression of the
countenance, and particularly of the eye, will frequently give the first
notice of the incubation. It shrinks from the popular gaze, and catches
furtive glances of the visitor. It has a sly, and a fixed and downward
look; or, it has a vagrant and vacant expression. In some it has a
quickness and restlessness. But, be the bias what it may, there is an
indescribable character beaming through its glassy surface, which tells
the tale to the experienced observer. In the exercise of my office of
visiting physician to the asylums in Essex for the last twenty-four years,
I have always studied this feature, and have found it most valuable in
assisting me to decide on the existence of mental disease, where the
aberration has been so slight, or the part of sanity so ably acted, as to
almost deceive the magistrates who have accompanied me in my visitations. Dr. Male says, 'Insanity may generally be discovered by a wildnes;; in the eyes; very high or very low spirits ; extravagant or inconsistent conversation or action. The eyes are sometimes fixed for a long

ii
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I

152

11111

1

i l ll

:111
'1

:::111111 1

i'I

time on one object, and often on vacuity. These faint symptoms usually
pass unnoticed by inexperienced observers; and it is frequently difficult
to convince them that the individual is insane, unless his conversation is
absolutely incoherent, or his conduct dangerous.'
"The acuteness of the insane in disguising their malady is astonishrng. In a case of madness tried at Chester before Lord Mansfield, the
patient was so clever that he evaded questions in court the whole day,
and seemed to everybody perfectly sane. Dr. Batty, however, came into
court, and, knowing the point of the man's derangement, asked what
had become of the princess with whoin he had been in the habit of corresponding in cherry-juice? Instantly, the man forgot himself, and said
it was true that he had been confined in a castle, where, for want of pen
and ink, he had written his letters in cherry-juice, and thrown them into
the stream below, where the princess had received them in a boat. This
man had had sagacity enough, during the whole day, to answer correctly
all the questions put to him in court, Lord Mansfield being the presiding
judge. Even the acuteness of Lord Erskine was insufficient (being
unacquainted with his particular hallucination) to detect the insanity of
a lunatic who fancied himself to be Christ; and he was indebted for the
discovery to the presence of Dr. Sims.
" Sleeplessness is another predominant feature in early as well as in
matured insanity. The sensorium is too morbidly alive to sanction
healthy rest, and the busy imagination is at work by night as well as by
day."

Jiiii

The Parents have hesitated as to exhibiting the following
letters to the friends of their Son. But, as they form so clear
'

1111111

an index to the growing susceptibility of his mind, and enable
us to discern its liability to a more serious convulsion, and are,
withal, so indicative of the purity and excellence of his disposition, they have concluded to subjoin them.

Such, however,

153
was the habitual equilibrium of his mind, and so great his selfcontrol, that his Parents were only temporarily alarmed by a
perturbation of which they had not before witnessed any display whatever.

There was, also, a very general terror prevail-

ing in regard to the cholera, particularly in all places where it
did not exist; ancl when it appeared for the first time in this
City, there was an immediate flight of three-fourths of the
population. The letters, therefore, scarcely go farther than
what multitudes felt, and many might have written under similar circumstances ; and it is the general placidity of his mind
which imparts to them an interest in interpreting other unusual
manifestations which may have been witnessed by his friends,
and the displays of insanity which preceded his death.
It should be premised, that when the letters were written,

the malignant cholera was prevailing in New-York, and that
both of his Parents were in feeble health.

The immediate

cause, also, of his apprehensions, was the sudden death of his
maternal Grandfather by that disease, and to whom he was
greatly attached.

As to the Telegraphic messages of which he

speaks, there were several, and two of them were sent on one
day.

They consisted of an earnest entreaty that his Parents

would leave the City immediately. This they did, by going to
him as soon as they could make the necessary arrangements,
and then remained with him nearly two months. In the mean
time, his Uncle and Aunt Dunn, of Boston, soon succeeded in
greatly quieting his fears, which they represent as amounting to
20

154
almost a state of frenzy, and he was constantly informed by
telegraph and letters of the condition of his Parents. His
alarm was put at rest as soon as his Father assured him that
there were but a very few cases of the disease in the City, and
that no one manifested the least an:1.'iety about its prevalence.

" 0.A.MBRIDGE,

June 23, 1849, 9 o'cl,oclc P. Jyf.

"DEAR FATHER :-The shocking news of my Grandfather's
death has just reached me, but it took me little by surprise ; for
I should not have been surprised to hear of the death of any
one who is now in New-York City. I have, for some time, been
afraid to open a letter, or look into a paper, lest I should see
yours or Mother's death announced ; and every letter I write is
with the extreme uncertainty whether you will ever open it.
Such, dear Father, you knowing to be the state of my feelings,
it is indeed strange, very strange, that you and Mother do not
leave, and come to kinder climes. I think you do wrong, wrong
both to yourselves and to me. Strange ! Strange! 'Tis very
strange, since you told Grandmother, told me, told all, that if
the cholera came you should certainly leave the City, that you
had done your part with that disease in former years ; and yet,
although it is the hottest weather we have ever had in this
country, and, although it is past your usual time for leaving the
· City, even in healthy summers, and although Mother is subject.

155
to bowel complaint in hot weather, yet you both will remain in

that Court of Death.

I declare, I shall be afraid to look into

Monday's paper !
" This is an unvarnished account of the state of my feelings.
There will be no use in writing letters. The only way to relieve
me, and probably to save your own lives, is to leave the City
and come this way. Do not delay; leave the next, or the same
day you receive this, for my fears grow stronger every minute.
Do not put it off a day, for it may be too late.
"I went to Haverhill on Thursday, and returned this evening.

Grandmother is nicely.

Thursday and Friday, 101°.

Thermometer at H averhill,

Do not go to Haverhill.
" Your very anxious Son,
" RoBERT TROUP PAI NE."

" BOSTON,

Jiine 24, 1849.

" DE.AR F .A.THER: - I have come to Boston, with the design
of going to New-York, to-morrow, for the purpose of taking
Mother off on Tuesday morning ; for I feel most extremely
anx10us. I have, however, been persuaded by my Un.cle not to
go, only out of the consideration that it might alarm my
Mother to such a degree as to bring on an attack of the
cholera.
"I have just been to the Telegraph office, to say that I

156
wished Mother to come on in the first boat which should leave
after she received the dispatch.
of order.

The wires, however, are out

"I feel exceedingly 'alarmed lest you or she may have an
attack of the cholera, particularly Mother, for there are several
things, which, all together, are more than likely to bring on an
attack; her disturbed state of mind caused by the death of her
Father, her susceptibility to bowel-complaint, the extremely hot
weather, and, also, the certainty of an attack if she should comI
11

mit a single act of imprudence.
"You will receive this letter Tuesday morning, and I beg

iI

and entreat that you will both leave on Tuesday night, by the
boat -by all means Mother.

Do not answer by letter, for by

the time that a letter will reach me I wish Mother to be here.

,I I

But I must entreat you, as soon as you receive this letter, to
send on a dispatch by Telegraph, saying that Mother will leave

JI I
·11 1

,,

Tuesday evening. This will relieve me, and it is the only thing
that will do it.
" Have Mother leave, by all means, on Tuesday night.

\

" Your affectionate and extremely anxious Son,
" ROBERT TROUP

" I say once more, come Tuesday night."
I

iii\\ \

I
1\\\\\

~1 111

p AINE.

157

" CAMBRIDGE, Jun e 25, 18±9.
"DEAR F .A.TITER: - I wrote from Boston y esterday, express; ing my earnest wishes that you should both leave as quick as
1,

~'. · possible, but that Mother should leave immediately, and that
: -you would sencl me a T elegraphic dispatch as soon as you
receive the letter, saying that Mother will leave on Tuesday
night.

The wires will be in order before that time.

Direct as

follows :
" ROBERT TROUP p AINE,
"Harvard University,
" Hollis Hall, No. 1,
" and say, ' .LVIother will le([;Ve to-night.'

"I shall receive it promptly.
" Your affectionate Son,
"ROBERT TROUP PAINE."

" CAMBRIDGE, June 25, 1849.
"DEAR FATHER: - I am much worried by a letter which I
received to-day from Mother, which has been delayed for some
time upon the route.

She says, ' I had b etter wait till Pa is

ready to leave.'

" I believe I shall become distracted, if you do not come at
once.

My fears have now become so great as to interfere with

158
my studies.

If my Mother do not come on immediately, and

you within a day or two, I know not how I can bear it. If you
are not ready till a day or two, I beg, I entreat, I implore that
she may be placed under the care of some one, and may leave
immediately. I shall look for her on Wednesday morning; but
if she be not here on Thursday morning, I believe I shall go
distracted.
no good.

Don't, I entreat you, write letters.

They will do

Let Mother come on, and not wait for a trunk, as

you can bring that on, or it can be sent by Express.
" Let her, I entreat, come on imniediately, and you follow
her soon after. It is all I ask.
" Your affectionate Son,
" ROBERT TROUP p AIN.E."

" CAMBRIDGE, June 26, 1849.
" DEAR F A.THER : - I received the Telegraphic dispatch in
due time.

!

'i i

I was indeed happy to hear that you are all well,

but was extremely sorry when you said that you have written
me; which implies that Mother will not leave the City as soon
as I hoped. But I suppose, of course, that she will have left

~I
iI
I

before you shall have received this letter, after all the concern
I have expressed, and which I shall make still more manifest
to-morrow by Telegraph, unless your letter should say that you
are coming on immediately, and for this purpose I must lose a
recitation. The only thing that prevented me from going to

'\, I
I

159
New-York was the fear of causing you alarm lest I should contract the cholera.

The only thing I ask is, that Mother may

come on immediately, and you soon afterwards, and this only

will allay my fears about you both. Don't write, but come on
irnmedicttely.
" Your affectionate Son,
" RonERT TROUP PAINE."

" CAMBRIDGE,

June 26, 1849.

" DEAR F ATHER: - I have written you one letter already
this evening.

I have set clown to study, but cannot.

For

Heaven's sake, when you receive this letter send me a dispatch,
saying that Mother is coming, not a week or a day hence, but

immediettel;y, and that you are coming either with her or very
soon afterwards. There will be no use in saying any thing else.
This alone will quiet me.
" Your affectionate Son,
" ROBERT TROUP p AINE.
" P. S. If you cannot come for a clay or two, you can put
her under the care of the Captain of the Steamboat."

160
His Parents now come to what they regard as immediate
exciting causes of the fatal act; one of which they suppose to

!

I

have been the struggle which was going on in his mind, and
which had just begun, as to the Profess10n which he should
adopt.

This will appear from some of the letters relative

to

his death.
er immediate exciting cause, as his Parents believe,
may be found in the first of the

am ridge Theses (Article II.,

page 29), although that Thesis equally shows that he was
steeled, to ,the last degree, against self-destruction.
11

There, and

in Article III., and in his Letters relative to the cholera, will be
found a sensitiveness through which reason might be readily
disturbed by slight physical derangements of the brain, or by
unusual and sudden emotions.
The subject of the Thesis (Article II.) is manifestly of a
difficult nature.

;I,, ll I

To discuss it in Robert's manner seems to

require a mind of great refinement, and of great devotional
feeling.

It will be conceded, too, that a better exposition can-

1'

I:
1111 1

not be easily made, and this only by one who entertains "an
unspeakable pleasure in a consciousness of his own purity and

i

holiness," and who feels it "delightful to hold communion with

I !II I

his God, and to be assured of His smiles." The subject had
manifestly engaged his whole soul. He was never known to

ill

have evinced greater happiness than during the few days pre-

11

'111111

jl'

ceding his death, and even on the fatal day ; and it would seem
that aberration of mind when thus elated would be likely to

!il111111
•I

1 1 ~1

:

,111111

'

,i1111111

161
seize upon the prospect of future bliss, and thus induce the Subject to imagine that he "had reached that stage in his progress,
in which the highest pleasure that this life can afford is the

antiCipation of that which is to come."
Ip is true, that Thesis is an argument against self-destruction;
and the horror with which he regarded this act may be seen,
also, at the close of a Theme, dated November 30th, 1846, and
which forms the last of the sei·ies written at the Grammar
School of Columbia College.

The act is there introduced as

the climax of " crimes," and it is manifest from Article II. that
he never lost that opinion of its nature.

But rational opinions

yield to the promptings of imagination when judgment loses its
control. This is constantly true even of such as are not insane.
What, also, is said by St. Paul is not unlikely to have had an
"'

influence, under the supposed circumstances, with one so conversant with the Scriptures as Robert; namely, "For to me to live
is Christ, and to die is gain.
the fruit of my labor.

But, if I live in the flesh, this is

Yet what I shall choose I wot not ; for

I am in a strait betwixt two, having a desire to depart and to
be with Christ, which is far better. Nevertheless, to abide in
the flesh is more needful for you."
Turning, also, to other Compositions written at the University, and during his connection with the Grammar School of
Columbia College, we :find the same temper of mind manifested;
and, it is worthy of remark, that, although there are frequent
references to death, he rarely speaks of the grave, but of the
21

162

departed spirit. The happiness .which he enjoyed is also a
characteristic trait of his writings ; and the source of his universal popularity consisted in his cheerfulness and good nature,
which, as Addison says, "are the two great ornaments of virtue
that show her in the most advantageous views, and make_her
altogether lovely. These generally go together, as a man cannot
be agreeable to others who is not easy within himself.

They

are both very requisite in a virtuous mind, to keep out melan"
choly from the many serious thoughts it is engaged in, and to
hinder its natural h atred of vice from running into severity and
cen8oriousness."

The friends of this Youth cannot but be

forcibly impressed with the justice of these sentiments as now
applied by his Parents.

Indeed, his Parents believe that there

never was a character more truly described than in the following language of the Psalmist :
"Lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle?
dwell in thy holy hill?

Who shall

He that walketh uprightly, and work-

eth righteousness, and speaketh truth in his heart. He that
backbiteth not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbor,
nor taketh up a reproach against his neighbor; in whose eyes a
vile person is contemned ; but he honoreth them that fear the
Lord. He that sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not.
He that putteth not out his money to usury, nor taketh reward
against the innocent.
be moved."

He that doeth these things shall never

Those most nearly interested in this Memoir, in taking their

163
v

" ~. leave of Robert's Friends, and of others who have sympathized
i with them, cannot refrain from expressing the hope that their
· Son has not lived in vain; that much may be found in his life,
especially as delineated in his Essays, that will warm their
Religion and virtue, and light up that smile of happiness with
which the contemplation of God and Nature adorned bis countenance, or which flowed from the pursuit of studies and pleasures that awakened his grateful sensibilities : for "he lived in a
perpetual sense of the Divine Presence, regarded hiinself as
ac.ting, in the whole course of his existence, under the observation and inspiration of that Being Who was privy to all his
motions and all his thoughts, and as if always conscious that H e
observed his' down-sitting, and his uprising, that He was about
his path, and about bis bed, and spying out all bis ways.' "
May they not hope that the very manner of bis death may·
enforce upon us the solemn conviction, that, "in the midst of
life we are in death ; " that all the beautiful love of life and of
Heaven which glows in the first of the recorded Theses (Article
II.) cannot protect us . for a moment when that Reason which ·
he so eloquently exalts in the second (Article III.) may be
suddenly impaired, nor all the veneration of the Bible which
appears in the third (Article IV.) and in most of his compositions, nor any purity of life, nor youthful buoyancy, nor the
endearments of love and friendship, nor health, nor happiness,
nor an unclouded future which promised him an exemption
from every care or labor he might choose to avoid ?

164
" But, though the righteous be prevented with death, yet
shall he be at rest. For honorable age is not that which standeth in length of time, nor that is measured by number of years.
But wisdom is the gray hair unto men, and an unspotted life is
old age.

He pleased God, and was beloved of -him ; so he was

speedily taken away, lest that _wickedness should alter his
understanding, or decejt beguile his soul.

He, being made per-

fect in a short time, fulfilled a long time ; for his soul pleased
the Lord.

Therefore hasted He to take him away."

The Parents of this Child have fulfilled an unusual duty.
They could not permit his worth _to be impaired, in the opinion
of any one, by the last act of his life, nor to be lost to his
Friends.

May the blessing of God rest upon their labor.

For

themselves, they can desire no greater favor of Heaven than to
be enabled to imitate his virtues, and that "strong, steady, masculine piety" which began in his infancy, and which he carried
with him to his Heavenly inheritance.

Perhaps

f~w

have

suffered a greater bereavement; for the object which has been
withdrawn was almost their only earthly source of happiness,
the subject, for more than twenty years, of their sleepless
thoughts and cares ; and, having lived to witness that full
development of his moral and physical being which they had
so fondly desired, they were looking to the future with brighter
hopes than ever.

These have been suddenly arrested.

They

were prepared, however, by their habits of retirement and
reflection, for seizing upon that only resource which can sustain

