WARREN COUNTY
Page 740
WARREN COUNTY was formed from Hamilton, May 1, 1803, and named in honor of Gen. Joseph Warren, who fell at the battle of Bunker Hill.
The surface is generally undulating, but Harlan township embraces a part of an extensive region formerly known as “The Swamps,” now drained and cultivated. The greater portion of the county is drained by the Little Miami river. The soil is nearly all productive, much of it being famed for its wonderful strength and fertility.
Area, about 400 square miles. In 1887 the acres cultivated were 136,739; in pasture, 32,696; woodland, 30,282; lying waste, 5,724; produced in wheat, 394,588 bushels; rye, 715; buckwheat, 193; oats, 304,601; barley, 1,306; corn, 1,453,744; broom corn, 7,550 lbs. brush; meadow hay, 18,042 tons; clover hay, 2,871; flaxseed, 64 bushels; potatoes, 25,599; tobacco, 246,863 lbs.; butter, 524,454; sorghum, 925 gallons; maple syrup, 5,689; honey, 1,946 lbs.; eggs, 373,189 dozen; grapes, 9,400 lbs.; wine, 50 gallons; sweet potatoes, 3,886 bushels; apples, 3,940; peaches, 70; pears, 1,682; wool, 83,761 lbs.; milch cows owned, 5,587. School census, 1888, 7,611; teachers, 168. Miles of railroad track, 100.
Township And Census |
1840 |
1880 |
Township And Census |
1840 |
1880 |
Clear Creek, |
2,821 |
2,782 |
Salem, |
2,955 |
2,052 |
Deerfield, |
1,875 |
2,011 |
Turtle Creek, |
4,951 |
5,799 |
Franklin, |
2,455 |
4,148 |
Union, |
1,617 |
1,110 |
Hamilton, |
1,178 |
2,523 |
Washington, |
1,306 |
1,390 |
Harlan, |
|
2,242 |
Wayne, |
3,392 |
2,904 |
Massie, |
|
1,431 |
|
|
|
Population of Warren in 1820 was 17,838; 1830, 21,474; 1840, 23,073; 1860, 26,902; 1880, 28,392; of whom 23,256 were born in Ohio; 648 Virginia; 573 Pennsylvania; 539 Kentucky; 364 Indiana; 188 New York; 574 German Empire; 520 Ireland; 184 England and Wales; 32 Scotland; 24 France; 24 British America, and 4 Norway and Sweden.
Census 1890, 25,468.
On September 21, 1795, William BEDLE, from New Jersey, set out from one of the settlements near Cincinnati with a wagon, tools and provisions, to make a new settlement in the Third or Military Range. This was about one month after the fact had become known that Wayne had made a treaty of peace with the Indians. He travelled with a surveying party under Capt. John Dunlap, following Harmar’s trace to his lands, where he left the party and built a block-house as a protection against the Indians, who might not respect the treaty of peace.
Bedle’s Station was a well-known place in the early history of the county, and was five miles west of Lebanon and nearly two miles south of Union village. Here several families lived in much simplicity, the clothing of the children being made chiefly out of dressed deerskin, some of the larger girls being clad in buck-skin petticoats and short gowns. Bedle’s Station has generally been regarded as the first settlement in the county. About the time of its settlement, however, or not long after, William MOUNTS and five others established Mounts’ Station, on a broad and fertile bottom on the south side of the Little Miami, about three miles below the mouth of Todd’s Fork, building their cabins in a circle around a spring as a protection against the Indians.
Deerfield, now South Lebanon, is probably the oldest town in the county. Its proprietors gave a number of lots to those who would erect houses on them and
Page 741
become residents of the place. On January 25, 1796, the proprietors advertised in the Centinel of the Northwest Territory that all the lots they proposed to donate had been taken, and that twenty-five houses and cabins had been erected. Benjamin STITES, Sr., Benjamin STITES, Jr., and John Stites GANO were the proprietors. The senior STITES owned nearly ten thousand acres between Lebanon and Deerfield. Andrew LYTLE, Nathan KELLY and Gen. David SUTTON were among the early settlers at Deerfield. The pioneer and soldier, Capt. Ephraim KIBBEY, died here in 1809, aged 55 years.
In the spring of 1796 settlements were made in various parts of the county. The settlements at Deerfield, Franklin and the vicinities of Lebanon and Waynesville, all date from the spring of 1796. It is probable that a few cabins were erected at Deerfield and Franklin in the autumn of 1,795, but it is not probable that any families were settled at either place until the next spring.
Among the earliest white men who made their homes in the county were those who settled on the forfeitures in Deerfield township. They were poor men, wholly destitute of means to purchase land, and were willing to brave dangers from savage foes, and to endure the privations of a lonely life in the wilderness to receive gratuitously the tract of 106⅔ acres forfeited by each purchaser of a section of land who did not commence improvements within two years after the date of his purchase. In a large number of the sections below the third range there was a forfeited one-sixth part, and a number of hardy adventurers had established themselves on the northeast corner of the section. Some of these adventurers were single men, living solitary and alone in little huts, and supporting themselves chiefly with their rifles. Others had their families with them at an early period.
THE PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF CAPT. BENHAM.
Capt. Robert BENHAM, the subject of one of the most romantic stories in the history of the Ohio valley, died on a farm about a mile southwest of Lebanon, in 1809, aged 59 years. He is said to have built, in 1789, the first hewed log-house in Cincinnati, and established a ferry at Cincinnati over the Ohio, February 18, 1792. He was a member of the first Territorial Legislature, and of the first board of county commissioners of Warren county. He was a native of Pennsylvania and a man of great muscular strength and activity. He was one of a party of seventy men who were attacked by Indians near the Ohio, opposite Cincinnati, in the war of the Revolution, the circumstances of which here follow from a published source.
In the autumn of 1779 a number of
keel boats were
ascending the Ohio under the command of Maj. Rodgers and had advanced
as far as
the mouth of Licking without accident. Here, however, they observed a few Indians standing up on the
southern
extremity of a sandbar, while a canoe, rowed by three others, was in
the act of putting off from the Kentucky shore, as if for the
purpose of taking them aboard.
Rodgers immediately ordered the boats to be made fast on the Kentucky
shore,
while the crew, to the number of seventy men, well armed, cautiously
advanced in such a manner as to encircle the spot where
the enemy had been seen to land.
Only
five or six Indians had been seen, and no one dreamed of
encountering
more than fifteen or twenty
enemies. When Rodgers,
however had, as he supposed,
completely surrounded the enemy, and was preparing to rush upon them
from
several quarters at once, he was thunderstruck at beholding several
hundred
savages suddenly spring up in front, rear, and
upon
both flanks. They instantly
poured in a
close discharge of rifles, and then throwing down their guns, fell upon
the
survivors with the tomahawk. The panic was complete, and the slaughter prodigious. Maj. Rodgers, together with
forty-five others
of his men, were quickly
destroyed. The survivors made
an effort to regain their boats, but the five men who had been left in
charge
of them had immediately put off from shore
in
the hindmost boat, and the enemy had already gained possession of the others.
Disappointed in the
attempt, they turned furiously upon the enemy, and,
aided by the approach of darkness, forced their way
through their
lines, and with the loss of several severely wounded, at length effected their escape to Harrodsburgh.
Among the wounded was Capt. Robert
BENHAM. Shortly
after breaking through the enemy’s line he was shot through
both hips, and, the
bones being shattered, he fell to the ground. Fortunately, a large tree
had
Page 742
lately fallen near the spot where he lay,
and with great
pain he dragged himself into the top, and lay concealed among the
branches. The
Indians, eager in pursuit of the others, passed him without notice, and
by
midnight all was quiet. On the following day the Indians returned to
the
battle-ground, in order to strip the dead and take care of the boats.
BENHAM,
although in danger of famishing, permitted them to pass without making
known
his condition, very correctly supposing that his crippled legs would
only
induce them to tomahawk him upon the spot in order to avoid the trouble
of
carrying him to their town. He lay close, therefore, until the evening
of the
second day, when perceiving a raccoon descending a tree near him, he
shot hoping to devise some
means of reaching it,
when he could kindle a fire and make a meal. Scarcely had his gun
cracked,
however, when he heard a human cry, apparently
not
more than fifty yards off. Supposing
it
to be an Indian, he hastily reloaded his gun and remained silent,
expecting the
approach of an enemy.
Presently the same voice was heard
again, but much
nearer. Still BENHAM made no reply, but cocked his gun and sat ready to
fire as
soon as an object appeared. A third halloo was quickly
heard, followed by an exclamation
of
impatience and distress, which convinced BENHAM that the unknown must
be a
Kentuckian. As soon
therefore, as he
heard the expression, “Whoever you
are, for God’s
sake answer me!” he replied with readiness, and
the parties were soon
together. BENHAM, as we have already observed, was
shot through both legs. The
man who now appeared had escaped from the same battle
with both arms broken! Thus each was
enabled to supply what
the other wanted. BENHAM, having the perfect use of his arms, could
load his
gun and kill game with great readiness, while his friend having the use
of his
legs, could kick the game to the spot where BENHAM sat, who was thus
enabled to
cook it. When no wood was
near them, his
companion would rake up brush with his feet, and gradually roll it
within reach
of BENHAM’S hands, who constantly fed his companion and
dressed his wounds as well as his own,
tearing up both of their
shirts for that purpose. They found some difficulty in
procuring water
at first, but BENHAM at length took his own hat, and placing the rim
between
the teeth of his companion, directed him to wade into the Licking, up
to his
neck, and dip the hat into the water by sinking his own head. The man
who could
walk was thus enabled to bring water, by means of his
teeth, which BENHAM could
afterwards dispose of as was necessary.
In a few days they had killed all
the squirrels and
birds within reach, and the man with the broken arms was sent out to
drive game
within gunshot of the spot to which BENHAM was confined. Fortunately,
wild
turkeys were abundant in those woods, and his companion would walk
around and
drive them towards BENHAM, who seldom failed to kill two or three of
each
flock. In this manner they supported themselves for several weeks,
until their
wounds had healed so as to enable them to travel.
They then shifted their quarters, and put up a small shed
at the
mouth of Licking, where they encamped until late in November,
anxiously,
expecting the arrival of some boat, which should convey them to the
falls of
Ohio.
On the 27th of November they
observed a flat boat
moving leisurely down the river. BENHAM hoisted his hat upon a stick
and
hallooed loudly for help. The crew, however,
supposing them to be Indians—at least suspecting
them of an intention to decoy them
ashore—paid no
attention to their signals
of distress, but instantly put over to the opposite
side of the river, and manning every oar, endeavored to pass them as
rapidly as
possible. BENHAM beheld them pass him with a sensation bordering on
despair,
for the place was much frequented by Indians, and the approach of
winter
threatened them with destruction, unless speedily relieved. At length,
after
the boat had passed him nearly half a
mile, he saw a canoe put off from its stern, and
cautiously approached the Kentucky
shore,
evidently reconnoitring
them with great suspicion. He
called loud upon them for assistance, mentioned his name, and made
known his condition. After a long parley, and many evidences of
reluctance on the part of the
crew, the canoe at length touched the shore, and BENHAM and his friend
were
taken on board. Their appearance excited much
suspicion. They were almost
entirely
naked, and their faces were garnished with
six
weeks growth of beard. The one was barely able to hobble
upon crutches,
and the other could manage to feed himself with one of his hands. They were taken to Louisville, where their clothes
(which had been carried off in
the boat which deserted them) were restored to them, and after a few
weeks’
confinement, both were perfectly restored.
BENHAM
afterwards
served in the Northwest throughout
the
whole of the Indian war accompanied the expeditions of Harmar and Wilkinson—shared
in the disaster of St. Clair
and afterwards in the triumph of Wayne.
Lebanon, the county-seat, is pleasantly located in the beautiful Turtle creek valley. The first one hundred lots of the town were surveyed in September, 1802, by Ichabod B. HALSEY, on the lands of Ichabod CORWIN, Ephraim HATHAWAY, Silas HURIN and Samuel MANNING. On the organization of the county, six months later, it was made the seat of justice.
The town was laid out in a forest of lofty trees and a thick undergrowth of spice-bushes. At the time of the survey of the streets, it is believed that there
Page 743
were but two houses on the town-plat. The one first erected was a hewed log-house, built by Ichabod CORWIN in the spring of 1800. It stood near the centre of the town-plat, on the east of Broadway, between Mulberry and Silver streets, and, having been purchased by Ephraim Hathaway, with about ten acres surrounding it, became the first tavern in the place. The courts were held in it during the years 1803 and 1804. This log-house was a substantial one, and stood until about 1826. The town did not grow rapidly the first year. Isaiah MORRIS, afterward of Wilmington, came to the town in June, 1803, three months after it had been made the temporary seat of justice. He says: “The population then consisted of Ephraim HATHAWAY, the tavern-keeper; Collin CAMPBELL, Joshua COLLETT and myself.” This statement, of course, must be understood as referring to the inhabitants of the town-plat only. There were several families residing in the near vicinity, and the Turtle creek valley throughout was perhaps at this time more thickly settled than any other region in the county. The log-house of Ephraim HATHAWAY was not only the first tavern, under the sign of a black horse, and the first place of holding courts, but Isaiah MORIS claims that in it he, as clerk for his uncle, John HUSTON, sold the first goods which were sold in Lebanon. Ephraim HATHAWAY’s tavern had, for a time at least, the sign of a Black Horse. At an early day the proprietor erected the large brick building still standing at the northeast corner of Mulberry and Broadway, where he continued the business. This building was afterward known as the Hardy House.
Samuel MANNING, about 1795, purchased from Benjamin STITES the west half of the section on which the court-house now stands, at one dollar per acre. Henry TAYLOR built the first mill near Lebanon, on Turtle creek, in 1799.
The first school-house was a low, rough log-cabin, put up by the neighbors in a few hours, with no tool but the axe. It stood on the north bank of Turtle creek, not far from where the west boundary of Lebanon now crosses Main street. The first teacher was Francis DUNLEVY, and he opened the first school in the spring of 1798. Some of the boys who attended his school walked a distance of four or five miles. Among the pupils of Francis DUNLEVY were Gov. Thomas CORWIN, Judge George KESLING, Hon. Moses B. CORWIN, A. H. DUNLEVY, William TAYLOR (afterward of Hamilton, Ohio, Matthias CORWIN (afterward clerk of court), Daniel VOORHIS, John SELLERS and Jacob SELLERS.
The
first
lawyer was Joshua COLLETT, afterward Judge of the Supreme Court of
Ohio, who
game to Lebanon in June, 1803. The
first
newspaper was started in 1806 John
McLEAN, afterward
Justice of the U. S. Supreme Court. The
first court-house was a two-story brick
building on Broadway, thirty-six feet square,
erected
in 1805, at a cost of $1,450. The
lower
story was the court-room, and was
paved
with brick twelve inches square and four inches thick.
The proceeds of each alternate lot in the original
town-plat were
donated to aid in the erection of
this
court-house. In this quaint
old building
CORWIN, and McLEAN made
their earliest efforts at the
bar, and Francis DUNLEVY, Joshua COLLETT and Geo. J. SMITH
sat as president judges under the first Constitution of
Ohio. (It
was destroyed by fire
September 1, 1874.) The
Lebanon Academy was built in 1844.
Lebanon in 1846.—Lebanon, the county-seat, is twenty-eight miles northeast of Cincinnati, eighty southwest of Columbus, and twenty-two south of Dayton, in a beautiful and fertile country. Turnpikes connect it with Cincinnati, Dayton and Columbus. It is also connected with Middletown, nineteen miles distant, by the Warren County Canal, which, commencing here, unites there with the Miami Canal. The Little Miami Railroad runs four miles east of Lebanon, to which it is contemplated to construct a branch. The Warren County Canal is supplied by a reservoir of thirty or forty acres north of the town. Lebanon is regularly laid out in squares and compactly built. It contains 1 Presbyterian, 1 Cumberland Presbyterian, 2 Baptist, 1 Episcopal Methodist’ and 1 Protestant Methodist church, 2 printing-offices, 9 dry goods and 6 grocery stores, 1 grist and 2 saw
Page 744
Top
Picture
Drawn
by Henry Howe in
1846.
CENTRAL VIEW, LEBANON.
Bottom
Picture
Claunder, Photo, 1886
CENTRAL VIEW, LEBANON.
Page 745
mills, 1 woollen manufactory, a classical academy for both sexes, and had, in 1840, 1,327 inhabitants.—Old Edition.
LEBANON, county-seat of Warren, about seventy miles southeast of Columbus, twenty-nine miles northeast from Cincinnati, on the P. C. & St. L. R. R. It is the seat of the National Normal University.
County Officers, 1888: Auditor, Alfred H. GRAHAM; Clerk, Geo. L. SCHENCK; Commissioners, Nehemiah McKINSEY, Wm. J. COLLETT, James M. KEEVER; Coroner, George W. CAREY; Infirmary Directors, Henry J. GREATHOUSE, Peter D. HATFIELD, Henry K. CAIN; Probate Judge, Frank M. CUNNINGHAM; Prosecuting Attorney, Albert ANDERSON; Recorder, Charles H. EULASS; Sheriff, Al. BRANT; Surveyor, Frank A. BONE; Treasurer, Charles F. COLEMAN. City Officers, 1888: I. N. WALKER, Mayor; S. A. CHAMBERLIN, Clerk; John BOWERS, Marshal; J. M. OGLESBY, Treasurer. Newspapers: Gazette, Republican, R. W. SMITH, editor and publisher; Patriot, Democratic, T. M. PROCTOR, editor and publisher; Western Star, Republican, William C. McCLINTOCK, editor and publisher. Churches: 3 Baptist, 2 Presbyterian, 1 Catholic, 1 Methodist Episcopal, 1 African Methodist Episcopal, 1 German Lutheran. Bank: Lebanon National, John M. HAYNOR, president, Jos. M. OGLESBY, cashier. Has no manufactures. Population, 1880, 2,703. School census, 1888, 853; J. F. LUKENS, school superintendent.
Census, 1890, 3,174.
The National Normal University, of Lebanon, Ohio, Alfred HOLBROOK, president, is an educational institution that has met with a large measure of success. It is conducted as an independent institution, without aid from church or State. It is well equipped with suitable buildings, a fine large library, and an efficient corps of teachers, thirty-five in number. In 1889 the University had 1,940 male and 1,069 female students, and since its founding in 1855 has educated at a very small cost thousands who are now engaged as teachers in professions and in business in all parts of the country.
During the trial at Lebanon, in 1871, of McGEHAN, who was accused of the murder of a man from Hamilton named Myers, the Hon. Clement L. VALLANDIGHAM, who had been retained by the defence, accidentally shot himself. The accident occurred on the evening of June 16, in one of the rooms of the Lebanon House. Mr. VALLANDINGHAM, with pistol in hand, was showing Gov. McBURNEY how Myers might have shot himself, when the pistol was discharged, the ball entering the right side of the abdomen, between the ribs. Mr. VALLANDINGHAM lived through the night and expired the next morning at ten o’clock.
In an old graveyard west of Lebanon were buried many early pioneers. Here are the graves of Judge Francis DUNLEY, Elder Daniel CLARK, Judge Joshua COLLETT, Judge Matthias CORWIN (the father of Gov. CORWIN), and Keziah CORWIN (grandmother of the governor). In this yard was buried a daughter of Henry CLAY, the inscription upon whose tombstone is as follows: “In memory of Eliza H. CLAY, daughter of Henry and Lucretia CLAY, who died on the 11th day of August, 1825, aged twelve years, during a journey from their residence at Lexington, in Kentucky, to Washington City. Cut off in the bloom of a promising life, her parents have erected this monument, consoling themselves with the belief that she now abides in heaven.”
Here lie the remains of four maiden sisters, instantly killed by lightning, as stated on an adjoining page.
Mary Ann KLINGLING, who bequeathed $35,000 to establish the Orphans’ Home, one mile west of town, was buried here, and at her request no tombstone marks her grave. In the Lebanon Cemetery, northwest of the town, are the graves of Gov. CORWIN and Gen. Durbin WARD.
Lebanon is proud as having been the home of Thomas CORWIN. The mansion in which he lived is on its western edge, on the banks of a small stream, Turtle creek, some two rods wide, now the residence of Judge SAGE, of the U. S. District Court, his son-in-law.
Page 746
MONUMENTS IN MEMORY OF FOUR MAIDEN
SISTERS KILLED BY LIGHTNING.
They stand side by side in the old
burial-ground west
of Lebanon. They
lived in a log-house of
four rooms, half a mile west of the town, and each was in a separate
room at
the time of the destructive bold, and all instantly killed.
Page 747
Top
Picture
Clauder, Photo., 1886.
THE CORWIN MANSION.
Bottom
Left
THOMAS CORWIN.
Bottom
Right
Clauder, Photo
THE DOOR-KNOCKER.
Page 748
As I approached the spot not a soul was in sight. I came to the broad door of the mansion, and there faced me a huge brass knocker, on which was engraved THOMAS CORWIN. A quarter of a century has passed, and of all those who have come since and grasped that knocker not one has inquired for Thomas CORWIN. The heart of every one has answered as he read—”dead !” The sight affects as a funeral crape; nay more. It is not only an emotion of melancholy that comes with the sight of that name, but one of sublimity in the comprehension of the character that appears to the vision.
CORWIN was the one single, great brave soul who, on the floor of Congress, dared to warn his countrymen, in words of solemn eloquence, from pursuing “a flagrant, desolating war of conquest” against a half-civilized, feeble race. He implored them “to stay the march of misery.” No glory was to be attained by such a war. “Each chapter,” said he, “we write in Mexican blood may close the volume of our history as a free people.”
To the plea that the war must be continued because we wanted more room, more territory for our increasing population, he replied: “The Senator from Michigan (Mr. Cass) says we will be two hundred millions in a few years, and we want room. If I were a Mexican, I would tell you, ‘Have you not room in, your own country to bury your dead men? If you come into mine, we will greet you with bloody hands, and welcome you to hospitable graves.’ ”
Then he warned them of the inevitable consequences of the war; the acquisition of new Territories; a fratricidal war between the forces of Slavery and the forces of Freedom for the right to enter and possess the land. His closing words were as follows:
Should we prosecute this war
another moment, or expend
one dollar more for the purchase
or
conquest of a single acre of Mexican land, the North and the South are
brought
into collision on a point where neither will yield.
Who can foresee or foretell the result?
Who so bold
or reckless as to look such a
conflict in the face unmoved? I do not envy the heart of him who can
realize
the possibility of such a conflict without emotions too painful to be
endured.
Why then shall we, the representatives of the sovereign States of this
Union—the chosen
guardians of this confederated
Republic—why should we
precipitate this fearful struggle,
by continuing a war the results of which must be to
force us at once upon it?
Sir, rightly considered, THIS is
treason; treason to the Union; treason to the dearest interests,
the loftiest aspirations, the
most cherished hopes of our constituents. It is a crime to risk the
possibility
of such a contest. It is a crime of such infernal hue that every other
in the catalogue of iniquity, when compared
with it,
whitens into virtue.
Oh, Mr. President, it does seem to
me, if hell itself
could yawn and vomit up the fiends that inhabit its penal abodes,
commissioned
to disturb the harmony of the world, and dash the fairest prospect of
happiness
that ever allured the hopes of men, the first step in the consummation
of this diabolical purpose
would be, to light up
the fires of internal war, and plunge the sister States of this Union into the bottomless
gulf of civil strife!
We stand this day on the
crumbling brink of that gulf—we see its bloody eddies wheeling and boiling before us. Shall
we not pause before it be too late?
How plain again is here the path,
I may add, the only way of duty, of prudence, of true patriotism. Let
us
abandon all idea of acquiring further territory,
and
by consequence cease at once to prosecute this war.
Let us call home our armies, and bring them at once within
our
acknowledged limits. Show Mexico that you are sincere when you say that
you
desire nothing by conquest. She has learned that she cannot encounter
you in
war, and if she had not, she is too weak to disturb you here. Tender
her peace,
and, my life on it, she will then accept it. But whether she shall or
not, yon
will have peace without her consent. It is
your
invasion
that has made war; your retreat will
restore peace.
Let us then close forever the
approaches of internal
feud, and so return to the ancient concord, and the old way of national
prosperity and permanent glory. Let us
here, in this
temple consecrated to the Union,
perform
a solemn lustration; let us wash Mexican blood from our hands, and
on these altars, in the
presence of that image of the Father of his country that looks down
upon us,
swear to preserve honorable peace with all the world, and eternal
brotherhood
with each other.
This great solemn appeal of CORWIN full upon dulled sensibilities. The greed of conquest had possession; the popular cry was, “our county, right or wrong.”
Page 749
It brought down upon him a torrent of execration
from
every low gathering of the unthinking, careless multitude.
“To show their hate,”
to use his own words, uttered years later, he was “burned in
effigy often, but
not burned up.” He lived on too high a plane of statesmanship
for their moral
comprehension. All he predicted came to pass. It was as a prophecy of
great
woe. The woe ensued. Half a million of young men, the flower of the
land,
perished; and the Mexican war only ended with the surrender at
Appomattox.
Thenceforward could the old bell on Independence Hall, for the first
time,
truly ring forth, “Liberty throughout all the
land.” No thanks to those who
brought the woe; glory to those who fought for the bright end.
Mr. CORWIN was a great man every way; heavy, strong
in
person, with a large, benevolent, kindly spirit, and an intellect that
illustrated
genius. He was his own complete master; never lost himself in the
crevices of
his own ideas, but could at will summon every quality of his creative
brain,
and bring each to bear as the occasion seemed to demand. Like Lincoln,
a great
humorist, he was at heart a sad man; and his jokes and witticisms were
but used
as a by-play, to relieve a mind filled with the sublimities and
awe-inspiring
questions that ever face humanity.
As his old age approached he thought his life had
been
a failure. Financially, existence had become a struggle; his
aspirations for a
theatre for the exercise of a benevolent statesmanship had been denied,
and he
wrongfully ascribed his failure to his love of humor. That did not in
the case
of Lincoln injure him nor CORWIN, and it never does where a great brain
and a
great soul are at the helm. Then truth often enters through a witticism
when it
is denied to an argument.
On an occasion after observing in a then young
speaker, Donn Piatt, a disposition to joke with a crowd, he said:
“Don’t do it,
my boy. You should remember the crowd always looks up to the ringmaster
and
down on the clown. It resents that which amuses. The clown is the more
clever
fellow of the two, but he is despised. If you would succeed in life you
must be
solemn, solemn as an ass. All the great monuments of earth have been
built over
solemn asses.” CORWIN did not practice as he preached, was
better than his
sermon, and when a witticism demanded utterance put on a lugubrious
face and
out it came. And then it was a joke and its echo, a double dose
bringing
laughter with each, the last laugh by the comical by-play of his
countenance
that invariably succeeded.
Witticisms are immortal. They never die; are
translated. Mark Twain’s Jumping frog, Daniel Webster,
however slow its motion,
may by a century hence have digested his shot and hopped so far as to
appear in
Chinese literature; be a delight to the Pig Tails.
Indeed, a crying demand exists for humor. Chauncey
Depew presents one of his comic creations at a public dinner in New
York, and
the next morning numberless households have it in print at their
breakfast
tables, to help dispel the gloomy vapors of the night and start the
new-born
day in cheerfulness. Therefore, if anybody has anything extra good to
say, it
is their solemn duty to say it, irrespective of their fears of dire
disaster to
themselves for the saying.
It was once my good fortune to hear CORWIN speak in
an
open field to an assemblage of his neighbors and friends, largely
Warren county
farmers; and a jolly, happy set of listeners they were. All knew him,
and, it
was evident, idolized him. Many had taken part in the old Whig campaign
of ‘40,
had helped to make him Governor, had sung:
“Tom Corwin, our true hearts love you;
Ohio has no nobler son,
In worth there’s none
above you.”
And now had come the troubles connected with the
introduction of slavery into Kansas, and it was these he was discussing.
Page 750
In one place he made a comical
appeal for the exercise
of charity in our feelings toward our Southern brethren, that we should
not
cherish bitterness toward them because of slavery. “They were
born into it;
never knew anything else. Think of that? Grown up with the black
people, many
had taken in their earliest nourishment from dusky fountains, kicking
their
little legs while about it,
and it seemed to have
quite agree with them. Then as children they had played together and
had their
child quarrels; sometimes it was young massa
on top and at others pickaninny
on top. Then they
must remember the climate down there was dreadfully hot and enervating.
Nobody
loves to work there. Even some of you fellows up here in old Warren, I
am sorry
to say, seem to shirk work at every chance, and then you hang around
the street
corners and groan ‘hard times.’ This is what makes
it so handy to have some
other fellows around to do it for them—people of about my
color.” CORWIN was of
a dark, swarthy complexion, and it was common for him to allude to
himself as a
black man, and then to pause, stroke his face, and look around upon the
crowd
with a comical expression that brought forth roars of laughter.
“Yes, people around of
about my complexion. when
you want anything done, all you have to do is to yell, ‘Ho
! Sambo,’ and
‘Sambo’
answers, ‘Comin’
Massa,’
and he comes grinning
and does what you order. It may
be you’ve dropped down on a lounge for an after-dinner nap;
on a hot summer
afternoon, your face all oozing a sticky sweat from the close, horrid
heat, and
the flies are bothering you, and one particularly persistent old fly
has lit on
your nose, has travelled
from its starting-place at
the top and finding the bridge a free bridge crossed it without paying
any toll
and is in the opening of the act of tickling your nostrils, gives a
sudden
jab—when it stings; gracious me! Oh
! how it
stings ! It is under that infliction after using, I
fear, some swear words, that you have yelled, ‘Ho! Sambo
ho !’ And then Sambo comes
and he stands and waves over you, gently waves, a
long-handled brush of peacock feathers. It acts like a benign spirit of
the air
with its fanning wings. The flies vanish, the sweat dries, the
locomotive
starts slow—whew! whew!
whew !-then
quick and away you go. You enter an elysium.
Oh, it is very comfortable.
“No wonder our brethren
down there love that sort, of
thing. Their ministers quote Scripture and say it is all right. Paul
comes
along and seems to help them out. Then the owning gives the owner
consequence;
it is a sort of title of nobility. If to own a fine horse puffs up one
of you
folks up here, think how big you would feel to own a man a cash article
always
at hand when one’s hard up—pickaninny
$250, an old
aunty $500, and a Sambo
$1,000, that is if the
preliminary examination of Sambo’s
teeth and gums
shows he has not aged too much. And now the question arises about
allowing
these Southern brethren of ours to take along to the new lands which
their arms
have helped to obtain, their Sambos,
old black nurses
and pickaninnies, so as
to keep up the old style of
family arrangements. It is a very troublesome question to discuss, but
we must
do it in all charity.”
These were not his words nor illustrations, but about their spirit, as in my memory—the by-play of an earnest, judicial talk upon the great trouble that was setting the people North and South at loggerheads “ “befo” de wah.”
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An old-style door-knocker hanging from the door of an old family mansion ! hat a sense of dignity it confers upon the spot, and what a history it could give if it could talk and tell of those who have come, the young and old, the rich and poor, and of their varied errands of sociality or business;’ if socially, what sort of a time they had; if business, were they duns?
The very act of knocking is a prayer, a petition to enter; and with it are .two mysteries: “Who is that knocking at my door?” that is the inner mystery. “Who will answer my knock ?” that is the outer mystery. The echo of your own knock has come to you, so you know somebody must have heard it. The family may be away, and the only answer you get is, perhaps, from a little creature in the hallway who has flown up just behind the door, scratches it and gives a “bow-wow.” Noah had no door-knocker to his mansion; nor did our Buckeye pioneers. Their latch-strings were always out, it was but a pull and then came open hospitality. “Hospitality,” said Talleyrand, “is a savage virtue,” and the pioneers had it, too.
The door-knocker was a direct evolution from the earliest origin—knuckles—and now comes the button for a shove and its answering ting-a-ling.
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When I lifted the old brass knocker, “Thomas Corwin,” I felt it an honor;