In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United
States for the Southern District of New York.
Life of Stephen H. Branch.
While Horace Greeley and myself were in conversation over our breakfast
at the Graham House, Goss escorted Fred Douglas and lady to the table,
who took seats near us. I knew not who they were, nor do I know that
Greeley did, but I think he did. They had arrived the previous night,
and this was my first knowledge that Goss kept colored boarders, who
politely helped them, and took a seat beside them, and conversed on
their favorite theme of anti-slavery. I stared at Goss and Fred and lady
and at Greeley, who gave me a sly glance, and ate his bran mush and
molasses as though nothing unusual was transpiring. I finished my mush,
and retired, and felt that Goss had perpetrated a gross impropriety. And
although I was then teaching negroes in the kitchens of New York, amid
slush and kettles and frying pans, and thus evinced my warm desire to
elevate the whole African race, yet my feelings were so grossly outraged
by this unnatural and disgusting amalgamation, that I went to Major
Mordecah M. Noah, (who published a daily evening paper,) and told him
the whole story, who opened a tremendous broadside on Greeley, who dared
Noah to reveal the name of his informant, although he knew I must be the
man. I besought Noah not to disclose my name, as I did not desire to
have a controversy with Greeley about Graham bread and Africans. Noah
promised he would not, but he discharged such caustic and unceasing
broadsides, and poked so much fun at Greeley, for breakfasting with
negroes, that he again ferociously demanded Noah to disclose the name of
his cowardly informant. I again implored Noah to stand firmly, and not
to divulge my name. Noah said that he did not see how he could avoid it,
as Greeley had made such a savage demand. But I induced him, after long
and plaintive importunity, not to expose me, and Noah soon withdrew his
forces from Africa, and attacked Greeley on his native hills of America,
on the subject of the Tariff and other themes. And in their deluge of
words and detraction, I did not molest Noah, nor any of his descendants,
save to pawn some of my traps occasionally to pay Goss my weekly board.
Greeley snarled and growled at me for weeks, but he had a conciliatory
nature, and magnanimously forgave me, and, (as after the quarrels of two
enthusiastic lovers,) we were better friends than ever. I admired the
humor and genial nature of Major Noah, and I respected the
transcendental talents of Horace Greeley, but I did not wish to be
devoured by their gladiatorial collisions, although I was the sole
origin of their editorial combat. Rhode Island was now on the verge of
civil war. My father addressed the first assemblage at the old Town
House, in Providence, against the revolutionary doctrines of Thomas
Wilson Dorr, and harangued the friend’s of Law and Order in various
parts of the State. My brother Henry came to New York, and told me that
my father had received letters from the insurgents, warning him to
prepare to meet his God, and was insulted by ruffians while crossing
Providence bridge, who threatened to destroy his property, if he did not
cease his inflammatory speeches against them, and that father defied
them, and told them that they might burn his houses, but they could not
burn his land. I went to Providence, and was saluted by father in tones
of the purest affection. I slept at his house, for several nights, and
joined the City Guards, and my company was assigned a position on the
west side of the bridge, to guard the city from sunset till sunrise.
News came that old General Green’s Kentish Guards, (cherished by
Washington,) of East Greenwich, commanded by Captain Allen, had fired on
the insurgents at Pawtucket, five miles from Providence, and killed and
wounded half a dozen of the rebels, and my Company was immediately sent
to relieve the Kentish Guards. Just prior to entering Pawtucket, the
Dorr women belched from their doors and windows the most disgusting
ejaculations, and I heard one virago exclaim: “An’t you a precious gang
of soldiers? You look as though Providence had taken a powerful emetic.”
This was a hard dose, but it came from one who bore the form and garb of
a lady, and we had to swallow it without a murmur. Ex-Governor Earle
came from Pawtucket on the wings of lightning, and told us it would be
instant death for us to enter Pawtucket without more men, but, much to
my regret, our Captain ordered us to follow him into the town, whose
streets were crowded with desperate outlaws, who were hooting and
hurling stones and fragments of iron at the Kentish Guards, who were
literally surrounded by the mob. When Captain Allen saw our Company
approach, he instantly arrayed us against the insurgents for fatal
action, and, taking out his watch, told the beligerent thousands
present, that if they did not disperse in ten minutes, he would fire
upon them. I suffered more in these ten minutes, than in all my life,
because I feared the rascals wouldn’t go, and we would have to fire at
them. I had the dyspepsia most horribly, and had all my pockets stuffed
with chunks of Graham bread, for a warrior’s rations, and was reduced to
an utter skeleton, and could hardly hold my heavy musket
perpendicularly, and my bones fairly rattled when the bloody words of
Captain Allen fell upon my ears. I had never fired a gun but once, and
that was at a snake at Topsfield, Massachusetts, and although the muzzle
was within an inch of his head, the ball passed into the ground, and the
snake fled before I could reload my gun. And yet I feared I might shed
human blood, and perhaps kill one or more, if Captain Allen ordered my
Company to fire at the Dorrites. And I was very sure I would fall like a
dead man, from the effect upon my dyspeptic nerves of fright and
thundering noise caused by the simultaneous discharge of one hundred
muskets. And I actually envied the rebels who could escape from peril,
while I could not, as I had a gun, cap and knapsack, and was hemmed in
by my comrades. I could not exchange my clothes, and was closely watched
by the insurgents, and if I left the ranks, I might be shot by my own
companions in arms, and if I escaped their fire, the insurgents
themselves might instantly dispatch me. The fatal ten minutes had nearly
expired, and I supposed my time had come, as I felt sure if we fired,
that two thousand ruffians would rush upon us, and hack us to bleeding
fragments. I looked up to the brilliant stars, but with all their
cheerfulness and fascination, I feared to have my soul approach their
glittering realms. I looked down upon the green earth, and I desired not
an eternal abode for my butchered carcase below its fragrant surface. To
kill a man I thought would be horrible, and forever cause unpleasant
dreams. But to be killed myself, by the enemy, seemed still more
horrible. And I resolved to put nothing but powder in my gun, so that I
could not kill or wound the Dorrites. I regretted that I could not slyly
tell them of my humane resolves, so that they could evince similar
clemency towards me, when we came together hand to hand, and foot to
foot, and nails to nails, and nose to nose, and belly to belly, and
teeth to teeth. The ten minutes elapsed, and the rebels remained and
yelled and stoned and defied us. Captain Allen passed along the line,
and told us we had got bloody work before us, and besought us to be
firm, and reload our muskets quickly, and fire at the hearts of our
adversaries, and we would conquer them, although they numbered
thousands, and we only hundreds. I came near falling at this
intelligence, and leaned very heavily against the soldiers on either
side of me, who threatened to shoot me if I didn’t stand straighter,
which straightened me mighty quick. Captain Allen spoke of American
patriotism, and our duty to our native State, and to the United States,
and of the valor of Green and Perry, but I scarcely heard what he said,
as my terrified mind was contemplating the horrors of an instant and
bloody doom, and my gloomy prospects beyond the grave. Captain Allen
takes out his watch, and draws his sword, and I look towards Heaven, and
engage in a most solemn silent prayer, as I now expect to die in about
five minutes.
(To be continued to my last gun.)
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A Primary Election at Peter Cooper’s Funny Little Grocery-Groggery, at
the corner of the Bowery and Stuyversant Street, in 1820.