Here for four years he became one of the four young pupils of the Rev. Thomas Ellison, rector of the church. Dr. Ellison was an Englishman and a graduate of Oxford—a rare scholar and a king's man. From him came Cooper's strong preference for English church government and equally strong feeling against the Puritans of Old and New England. While the Puritan's character was not pleasing to Cooper, he himself was called a "Puritan of Puritans," and it was to them he referred in the following: "Whatever else I may think of the Yankees,—a calmer, firmer, braver people do not walk this earth." Of this sentiment "The Wept of Wish-ton-Wish," published in 1829, gives ample proof.
The Rev. Joseph Hooper, author of the "History of St. Peter's Church, Albany, N.Y.," related an incident of Cooper's old Rectory school days there. The story came to Dr. Hooper from Mr. Edward Floyd de Lancy, son of Bishop de Lancy of Western New York, and is as follows:
It was the custom of the Rev. Thomas Ellison when he became too feeble to personally direct his workmen, to sit upon the stoop of the Rectory and watch the removal of the sandbank which covered the chosen site for the new church, corner of State and Lodge streets. Hundreds of loads had to be carted away before the foundation could be laid, and some of the carter's pay tickets on quartered playing-cards are preserved in St. Peter's archives. But the great hole in the ground had a great attraction for the boys of Albany, and they would leap into it to play tag and leap-frog until the stern voice of the Dominie called them to order, when they ST. PETER'S CHURCH, ALBANY, N.Y. would scamper away or hide in some corner out of sight of the piercing eyes of Dr. Ellison. Sometimes they would answer him mockingly, to his great annoyance. He could not pursue them, but he could, when his own pupils joined with the other boys, as they often did, give them stern and severe lectures upon their conduct, for they were playing on ground to be used for a sacred purpose. Even the rod of correction was used without curing them of this habit. Young Cooper was often a ringleader, and their pranks would often continue until darkness concealed them from the watchful and angry Rector, to whom, nevertheless, they gave due honor and respect.
STATE STREET, ALBANY, N Y, 1802.
From one of his "Sketches of England," written to William, Judge John Jay's second son, comes, in part, Cooper's graphic description of Dr. Ellison: "Thirty-six years ago you and I were school fellows and classmates in the home of a clergyman of the true English school. This man entertained a most profound reverence for the King and the nobility; was not backward in expressing his contempt for all classes of dissenters and all ungentlemanly sects; was particularly severe on the immoralities of the French Revolution, and, though eating our bread, was not especially lenient to our own; compelled you and me to begin Virgil with the eclogues, and Cicero with the knotty phrases that open the oration in favor of the poet Archias, because these writers would not have placed them first in the books if they did not intend people to read them first; spent his money freely and sometimes that of other people; was particularly tenacious of the ritual and of all decencies of the Church; detested a democrat as he did the devil; cracked his jokes daily about Mr. Jefferson, never failing to place his libertinism in strong relief against the approved morals of George III., of several passages in whose history it is charitable to suppose he was ignorant; prayed fervently on Sunday; decried all morals, institutions, churches, manners but those of England from Monday to Saturday."
The lad from Otsego soon became a prime favorite with his tutor, who took pleasure in teaching him. The old-fashioned, heroic romances were a rare delight to him,—a taste which was thought to come from his mother, who was very fond of such reading. One vacation, at about the age of eleven, he and a playmate lost themselves in the exciting interest of such a tale; "Don Belianus of Greece" made so deep an impression on Cooper that after reading it he said seriously to his playfellow that he would write a book himself, and would "begin it at once." And, like "Don Belianus of Greece," this story was to have "knights, and squires, and horses, and ladies, and castles and banners." With the glory of his story in mind, the boy had utterly forgotten his hearty dislike of pen-work at school. But his active brain soon put to flight this hobgoblin; he thought of the bit of a blue newspaper—the Otsego Herald—printed in Cooperstown by the father of his comrade. So they planned to use the resting-time of the press for the printing of this new book, of which, however, only a few chapters were put in type. The new author soon wearied of his work; but none the less it was the first step in his future literary career.
During 1801 a man near fifty, cleanly clad in sailor's gear but without stockings or neckcloth, appeared before Judge Cooper and asked if the lot between Fenimore and the village was for sale. The answer was, "Yes, but the price is high," and naming it, the stranger requested that a deed be made out at once; he counted down the amount in gold, and gave his name as Esaias Hausman. He had built for himself a small rude house on this lot and lived alone in it for years. The secrets of his former life, his wide learning (once found teaching a college president Hebrew), and disappearance at times, were never solved. Only his death revealed a purse of gold worn between his shoulder-blades. There was no will, so to public sale went the little hut and its lake-shore lot. This man of mystery made a deep impression on Cooper's boy-mind, and later, in 1838, was the subject of several pages of the author's "Chronicles of Cooperstown." Then there was James Allen,—a Scotch master-mason,—who came his way from the "Land o' Cakes" in 1801, and found, as an employee of Judge Cooper, an opening for his trade, and soon became a great favorite with the Cooper boys. This master-mason took great pride in exact work, with which no trifling was permitted. No stone could be moved but his true eye would detect it in a flash, and wild was the fury with which his fiery trowel flew for the culprit, and with such convincing force that it was wise to avoid further meddling with the "gude mon's" work. Of "Jamie Allen," master-mason and staunch auld kirke mon, many an amusing story is told in Fenimore Cooper's "Wyandotté, or the Hutted Knoll," written in 1843. These men among others marked the unusual in Cooper's vacations from Dr. Ellison's school-rule at Albany. Later in life he wrote a lively memory-sketch of his tutor, the rector of St. Peter's Church. But the death in 1802 of this accomplished gentleman sent his pupil—then a stripling of thirteen—to Yale. He entered the freshman 1802-3 January-term class, and, "excepting the poet Hillhouse, two weeks his junior, James Cooper was the youngest student in college." There "his progress in his studies is said to have been honorable to his talents." And "in the ancient languages he had no superior in his class."
Cooper owned to having learned little at college. When left to his own bent, his early love for out-of-door life drew him to roam the hills and explore near shores, and to his first view of the grand old ocean, which later claimed his tribute of service. For a boyish frolic in his junior year the lad left Yale, and this incident ended his college career. It is of record that Judge Cooper took the boy's part against the faculty version and brought his son home. Yet something from his books James Cooper must have gleaned, for there is a story of a young sailor who, in some public place in the streets of an English port, attracted the curiosity of the crowd by explaining to his companions the meaning of a Latin motto.
The Albany, school-boy days of William Jay and James Cooper were renewed at Yale where was welded their strong life-friendship. On the college roll of their time appear amongst other names that of John C. Calhoun of South Carolina, and the scholarly poet Hillhouse of New Haven. In the Dodd, Mead & Company's 1892 issue of "William Jay and the Constitutional Movement for the Abolition of Slavery," by Bayard Tuckerman, with a preface, by John Jay, appears a letter dating 1852, written by Judge William Jay to his grandson. This letter gives graphic glimpses of Yale College life during the student days there of its writer and James Cooper: "The resident graduates were denominated 'Sirs'; their place in Chapel was called 'the Sirs pew'; and when spoken of in college 'Sir' was always placed before their names. At that time the freshmen occupied, in part, the place of sizers in the English universities, and they were required to run errands for the seniors. My room-mate was Sir Holly (Dr. Horace Holly). SILHOUETTE OF JAMES COOPER WHEN A STUDENT AT YALE. As a mere freshman, I looked up to my room-mate with great respect, and treated him accordingly. About half past five in winter, the bell summoned us from our beds,—I rose, generally, before six,—made the fire, and then went, pitcher in hand, often wading through snow, for water for Sir Holly and myself. Of the college bell," the letter continues: "at six it called us to prayers in the chapel. We next repaired to the recitation-rooms and recited, by candlelight, the lessons we had studied the preceding evening. At eight we had breakfast,—our meals were taken in a large hall with a kitchen opening into it. The students were arranged at tables according to their classes. All sat on wooden benches, not excepting the tutors; the latter had a table to themselves on an elevated platform whence they had a view of the whole company. But it was rather difficult for them to attend to their plates and to watch two hundred boys at the same time. Salt beef once a day, and dry cod were perhaps the most usual dishes. On Sunday mornings, during the winter, our breakfast-tables were graced with large tin milk-cans filled with stewed oysters; at the proper season we were occasionally treated with green peas. As you may suppose, a goodly number of waiters were needed in the hall. These were all students, and many of them among the best and most esteemed scholars. At nine the bell warned us to our rooms. At twelve it called us to a recitation or a lecture. After dinner we recommenced our studies for the third time, at four o'clock. During study hours the tutors would frequently go the rounds, looking into our rooms to see that we were not playing truant. Before supper, we all attended prayers in the chapel."
Although, from the necessity of his times, Chief-Justice John Jay was a slave owner, his son, William—refined, benevolent, pleasing in manner, but with a temper easily aroused by injustice—became an early, alert, and strong advocate of the anti-slavery cause. This eminent jurist who built his life upon the plan of his words, "Duties are ours and consequences are God's" (as did also Cooper), was graphically addressed and described by Cooper as "Thou most pugnacious man of peace."
Leaving Yale to the more studious, no doubt the young man enjoyed this
brief period of home-life and the distinguished guests drawn by its
hospitality to Otsego Hall. Yet even this could not for long hold him
there. Perhaps he was influenced by what he heard from them of the great
outside world, and he, too, wished to see what it was like. As a
stepping-stone to a commission in the navy, Judge Cooper secured a berth
for his son, who shipped as a sailor
before-the-mast in the Stirling,
of Wiscasset, Maine, John Johnston master and part owner. In the care of
a merchant, young Cooper went down to the docks to look about the ship
and sign the articles, and the next day he returned in his sailor's
garb. The Stirling was taken into the stream, and his new comrades, a
mixture of nations,—four Americans, a Portuguese, a Spaniard, a
Prussian, a Dane, an Englishman, a Scotch boy, and a Canadian,—tumbled
aboard, not quite themselves; but by night they were in working trim.
The young commander was described as "kind and considerate of all
hands," and the ship as "carrying a motley crew." When "all hands" were
called to get the Stirling under way, Cooper, with another boy, was
sent aloft to loose the foretopsail. With eager will he tugged stoutly
at "the robbins," when the second mate appeared just in time to prevent
him from dropping his part of the sail into the top. The good-hearted
mate had a kindly mind for the "new hand," and the men were too busy to
notice small failures aloft. Young Cooper soon found an old salt who
taught him to knot and splice with the best of them, and old Barnstable
was repaid for these lessons by the merry times
they had together when
they got ashore.
OUTWARD BOUND.
However, with her cargo of flour, the Stirling sailed
from New York in the autumn of 1806 for the English market at Cowes, and
therefore when Cooper should have been taking his class degree at Yale,
he was outward bound on the sea's highway. Being to the manor born did
not admit the sailor before-the-mast to the captain's cabin, but no
doubt the long, rough voyage of forty stormy days did make of the young
man a jolly tar. Through her usual veil of fog came Cooper's first view
of Old England when threatened with Napoleon's invasion. Forty-odd sail
of warships were sighted by the night-watch when the Stirling passed
the straits of Dover at daybreak. They gave the young man an
object-lesson that he never forgot, in the watchfulness and naval power
of Great Britain. The Stirling had but dropped anchor in English
waters when she was boarded by a British man-of-war's boat-crew, and one
of her best hands was forced into the English navy service, and another
sailor barely escaped, he having satisfactory papers. At London a third
hand was lost, and Captain Johnston himself was seized by a press-gang.
Finally, in round-jacket and tarpaulin, the future guest of Samuel Rogers and Holland House, planted his feet on British soil. At London he saw about everything a gay young fellow of seventeen in sailor's gear could, of that wonderful city,—or so thought Ned Myers, one of his shipmates, who was with him most of the time. Concerning these jaunts Myers says: "I had one or two cruises of a Sunday in the tow of Cooper, who soon became a branch pilot in those waters about the parks and the West End, the Monument, St. Paul's and the lions; Cooper took a look at the arsenal, jewels, and armory [Tower of London]. He had a rum time of it in his sailor's rig; hoisted in a wonderful lot of gibberish." And with his fine stories of each day's sights in old London town, the young sailor would make merry evenings for his forecastle comrades, of whom it is recorded his strength could lay flat on their backs in two minutes.
In January the Stirling spread her sails for another stormy passage,—to the straits of Gibraltar. On running out, the ship was boarded by a gun-boat officer, who tried to press a Swede; whereupon, young Cooper thinking it an insult to our flag, began high words with the Englishman, but was soon silenced by Captain Johnston. The Stirling met with various stirring adventures, being chased by a Bay-of-Biscay pirate and rescued by the timely appearance of a British cruiser. It was thick westerly weather when they ran into the straits, and as the English fleet was off Cape Trafalgar, Captain Johnston realized the danger of being run down in the night, and came on deck during the middle watch for a sharp lookout on the forecastle. Night orders were given when came the warning, "Sail ho!" and through the mists and shadows was seen dimly a two-decker bearing directly clown upon them. The Captain ordered the helm "hard up!" and called Cooper to "bring a light." With a leap he rushed to the cabin, seized the light, and in half a minute it was swinging from the mizzen rigging, his promptness saving the ship. So near were the two vessels that the deck officer's voice was distinctly heard calling his quarter-master to "port the helm." As the great mass swept by them she seemed about to crush their railing with the muzzle of her guns.
While the Stirling was lying off the old Moorish town of Almaria, Cooper and others were sent ashore in a jolly-boat to boil pitch. To return to the ship they put off in a heavy sea, knowing it would be difficult to work through the surf; but orders were orders, and delay would not help. So off they plunged, when suddenly a breaker "took the bow of the boat, and lifting her almost on end, turned her keel uppermost." All hands got safely ashore—how, none could tell. A second launching resulted as the first, but with a third they succeeded in forging their way out, and boarded the ship. Later they ran short of provisions. But the Stirling's return cargo was brought back safely to London, where the ship lay at anchor for two months or more, and then sailed in July for America. After a voyage of fifty-two days she dropped anchor at Philadelphia, September 18, 1807. So much for this good ship named for Stirling Castle of Bonnie Scotland.
Such were the lessons young Cooper learned in this rough but manly school. A brother officer who knew him well said, "He was active, prompt, and efficient, a pleasant shipmate, always ready to do his duty, and rigorous too in exacting it of others." Of Cooper's "Naval History" was added, "It is the noblest tribute ever paid to a noble profession." Aboard the Stirling on these several cruises Cooper learned much that afterwards appeared in his sea tales. It was of this sea-service that he wrote, "I have been myself one of eleven hands, officers included, to navigate a ship of three hundred tons across the Atlantic Ocean; and, what is more, we often reefed topsails with the watch." Of the Stirling he wrote, "The ship was on a bow-line most of the time"; and he thought her "one of the wettest ships that ever floated when heading tip against the sea."
A lively account of this eleven months' service is found in Cooper's story of "Ned Myers." This life of his shipmate aboard the Stirling was written in 1843. The old salt was a battered hulk in the "Sailor's Snug Harbor" when Cooper was on the crest of the wave of his literary fame, and the old sailor, wondering if this Cooper could be the comrade of his youth in the Stirling days of yore, wrote, after the twenty-five years of separation, to inquire. The answer was, "I am your old shipmate, Ned." Later, "Ned" was invited to visit the Hall. Many remember the interesting two in 1843. "Hardly a day passed that they were not seen, as the heavy Hall gates swung open at eleven o'clock, coming out for a morning walk or a sail on the lake;—Cooper's portly form, and by his side a shriveled figure with halting step, leaning heavily on a crooked stick which served for a cane. They were as strong in contrast as it was possible for men to be." It was during this visit that the old sailor spun his life-yarn in his own way and Cooper wove it into his book, "Ned Myers."
Perhaps the following interesting Cooperstown story of Cooper's youth is of the time of his return from his Stirling voyage. One day a merry group of young men proposed a footrace, the course to be around the square—a distance of about one hundred yards. James Cooper was named as one of the runners, and his rival was soon chosen. According to custom, the village boys, girls, men, and women were spectators. Like a mettlesome steed in curb young Cooper looked at the wager,—a basket of fruit,—then at his race-mate, and accepted the challenge, but not on even terms. It was not enough for a sailor simply to outrun a landsman; he could do more. A little girl stood near, her bright face eager with watching for the fray. Cooper turned quickly and caught her up in his arms, and with the pride and muscle of an athlete exclaimed, "I'll carry her with me and beat you!" Away they flew, Cooper with his laughing burden upon his shoulders; one corner was turned, and the excited crowd saw with surprise James Cooper with his small rider keeping pace with the other flying youth. Another, and the other corners were soon passed; both sprang like race-horses near the end of the course, but Cooper, with his little black-eyed girl aloft and the perspiration pouring down his manly brow and cheeks, was the first to reach the mark, and amidst such cheers and hurrahs as only pioneers can freely give, and as freely enjoy. The fruit he had won, but soon it was shared by all around. That little girl, later the wife of Captain William Wilson, often told the story of her ride on pleasant James Cooper's shoulders.
While never a rhymester, Cooper, in his early manhood and at rare times after, did write occasional sentimental and comic verses that betokened both clever imagination and other merit. Into the Otsego Herald printing-office a poor epileptic ballad-singer came one day to ask help from a group of gentlemen A purse was made up for him, but he, looking among them, said if one of them would write for him "a few verses—something new"—they would be worth more than the silver given him. Young Cooper offered to try, and asked on what subject he should write "There's nothing sells like ballads," was the reply. So the ballad was promised; and some thirty or more pathetic verses were written at once, about the small frontier village recently burnt by troops under Colonel Murray during the close of the last war with England. This ballad bore the high-sounding title of "Buffalo Burnt, or the Dreadful Conflagration." It won such success among the farm-house gentry that the singer returned for another ballad and obtained it. Some years later Mr. Cooper was invited to a tea-party in a near village, when a young lady, led to the piano for music, began to sing, much to the author's disturbing amazement, "Buffalo Burnt, or the Dreadful Conflagration."
So passed the pleasant vacation days of our young sailor, whose training
before-the-mast enabled his father to obtain for him a midshipman's
commission in the United States Navy, for which James Cooper reported
for duty at New York City, January 12, 1808. At the age of nineteen he
first served aboard the Vesuvius.
THE "VESUVIUS."
Thence he was ordered to Oswego, New
York, to build the brig Oneida for Lake Ontario service, and which the
spring of 1809 saw launched.
While the war flurries which called for the building of the vessel were
tethered, Cooper had learned his lesson in ship-building, ship-yard
duties, and water-border life; and these served him more than thirty
years later in his matchless Indian story, "The Pathfinder." Miss Susan
Cooper has left some interesting pages of this period of her father's
naval service; in part they read: "In 1808 several young officers under
Lieutenant Woolsey were ordered to the shores of Lake Ontario for
building a small vessel of war. Among them was Mr. Cooper, then a
midshipman in the service. Their road lay for many a mile through the
forest to the mouth of the Oswego River,—their destination,—where the
Oneida, a brig mounting sixteen guns, was
built and launched. They
enjoyed the wild coloring of frontier life They roamed the forests and
explored the shores in leisure hours.
ONTARIO FORESTS.
Cruises among the Thousand Islands
were frequent; many were the fine fish caught and good chowders eaten.
The picturesque beauties of the region, the countless islands, were
greatly enjoyed and never forgotten by the young midshipman."
THE THOUSAND ISLANDS.
The
youthful officers were ordered to Buffalo, and stopping for the night at
a rude frontier inn, it was Cooper's duty to inquire what they might
have for supper. "Mine host shook his head ruefully; he could promise
very little. 'Give us what you eat yourself; you must
have food of some
kind,' said Cooper. Mine host looked melancholy; on his honor he assured
the young officers he had absolutely nothing to set before them but
game, steak, and brook-trout; and, maybe his wife could find cranberries
for a tart! A month earlier they should have had a dish of fried pork
fit for the President, with a pumpkin pie after it. 'Game's plenty, but
nothin' else!' added the publican with a sigh. Mine host was pining for
pork!
THE PORT OF BUFFALO.
On this expedition Mr. Cooper saw Niagara for the first time. He
was struck with the grandeur of the cataract, but felt its sublime
character far more deeply on a later visit—after his return from
Europe."
CAPTAIN M.T. WOOLSEY. When the Oneida was launched the gallant young officers resolved to celebrate the event by giving a ball. "This was an enterprise of a desperate character;—building a brig hundreds of miles from a ship-yard was a trifle to giving a ball in the wilderness. True, one fiddle and half a dozen officers were something; refreshments and a military ball-room might be hoped for; but where, pray, were the ladies to come from?" They would not think of dancing with each other, and ladies must be found. Vigorous efforts were made by sending boats in some directions and carts miles in others, to invite the ladies; and they accepted. As the hour drew near a very delicate point came up for decision—the honors due different fair claimants. After a council of war, Lieutenant Woolsey gave to his master-of-ceremonies these orders: "All ladies, sir, provided with shoes and stockings are to be led to the head of the Virginia reel; ladies with shoes, and without stockings, are considered in the second rank; ladies without shoes or stockings you will lead, gentlemen, to the foot of the country dance!" Such was a grand military ball in Oswego County in 1808-9.
About this time occurred an amusing incident of their raw young mess-servant, fresh from Ireland: "A table-cloth had taken fire and was in full blaze; Paddy was at the moment filling a teapot from an ample kettle in his hand. 'Pour the water on the table!' called out one of the officers. 'Sure, the wather is hot, your honor!' exclaimed Paddy, in great dismay, holding the kettle at a very safe distance from the blazing cloth, and his face such a picture of helpless despair as to make Mr. Cooper heartily laugh at every after-thought of it."
The passing of thirty or more years made of this light-hearted young
midshipman a well-known writer, with the purpose that his next book
should tell of this unforgettable region of the great lakes. He wished
to bring into it the sailors and Indians as, by coming in close contact
with them, "he knew their personalities and characteristics." Then,
forest scenes without "
Natty Bumppo" could scarce come from his pen
after the drawings of old "Leatherstocking" of "The Pioneers," "Hawkeye"
of "The Mohicans," and the "aged trapper" of "The Prairie." So it came
about that "Natty, the lover," stepped into these pages—Natty, "so
simple, so tender, so noble and true—what shall be said of him? We must
all needs love him; it is not with words but with tears that we wring
his hand and part from him on the lake shore" as "The Pathfinder."
THE PATHFINDER.
Glowing and brave proved
his Mabel, as "the bubble of a boat floated on
the very crest of a foaming breaker,"—yet not for him. But the ripple
of the lake's waves and rustling of forest leaves are as unforgettable
as the low, sweet tones of "Dew-of-June." Of "The Pathfinder" and Cooper
Balzac wrote: "Its interest is tremendous. He surely owed us this
masterpiece after the last two or three raphsodies he has given us."
CAPTAIN LAWRENCE. In the year 1809 Cooper was attached to a gun-boat serving on Lake Champlain, and on November 13 following, he was ordered to the Wasp, under Capt. James Lawrence, of Burlington—a personal friend, and also the heroic commander of the Chesapeake in her action with the Shannon, in which his last words were, "Don't give up the ship!" It was aboard the Wasp that Cooper's lifelong friendship with Commodore Shubrick of South Carolina began, who, like himself, and a year younger, was a midshipman. To this friend the author dedicated "The Pilot," "Red Rover," and other stories.
Political feeling ran high in those early days of 1809, and prominent persons did not escape from their opponents with hitter feeling only. So it came about that in December of that year, Judge Cooper, on leaving a hot convention, met his death,—the result of a blow on the head, as he was coming down the steps of the State capitol at Albany, New York. No one of his day who was engaged in the work of large buying and selling of land made so deep an impression as did Judge Cooper on his times, and on his author son, whose land books disclose to posterity with historic exactness the hardships and values of the pioneers of our country.
After Judge Cooper's death Richard Fenimore, his eldest son, became the head of the family, and it was to him that James wrote from
New York, May 18th, 1810
I wrote you yesterday, a letter in a great hurry, as its contents are of some importance. I employ the leisure time offered today, to inform you more fully of my views.
When you were in the City, I hinted to you, my intention of resigning at the end of this session of Congress, should nothing be done for the Navy—my only reason at that time was the blasted prospects of the service. I accordingly wrote my resignation and as usual offer'd it to Capt. Lawrence, for his inspection—he very warmly recommended to me to give the service the trial of another year or two—at the same time offering to procure me a furlough which would leave me perfect master of my actions in the interval—I thought it wisest to accept this proposition—at the end of this year I have it in my power to resign, should the situation of the Country warrant it.
Like all the rest of the sons of Adam, I have bowed to the influence of the claims of a fair damsel of eighteen. I loved her like a man and told her of it like a sailor. The peculiarity of my situation occasion'd me to act with something like precipitancy. I am perfectly confident, however, I shall never have cause to repent of it—. As you are cooly to decide, I will as cooly give you the qualities of my mistress. Susan De Lancey is the daughter of a man of very respectable connections and a handsome fortune—amiable, sweet-tempered and happy in her disposition.—She has been educated in the country, occasionally trying the temperature of the City—to rub off the rust—but hold a moment, it is enough she pleases me in the qualities of her person and mind—. Like a true quixotic lover, I made proposals to her father—he has answered them in the most gentlemanly manner—. You have my consent to address my daughter if you will gain the approbation of your mother—He also informs me that his daughter has an estate in the County of Westchester in reversion, secured to her by a deed in trust to him—. I write all this for you—you know I am indifferent to anything of this nature. Now I have to request—you will take your hat and go to mother, the boys, girls, and say to them have you any objection that James Cooper shall marry at a future day, Susan De Lancey. If any of them forbid the bans may the Lord have forgiven them—for I never will—. Then take your pen and write to Mr. De Lancey stating the happiness and pleasure it will give all the family to have this connection completed—all this I wish you to do immediately, as I am deprived of the pleasure of visiting my flame until this is done, by that confounded bore, delicacy—be so good as to inclose the letter in one to me, at the same time don't forget to inclose a handsome sum to square the yards here and bring me to Cooperstown.
I wish not to interrupt you in your attempt to clear the estate—my expenditure shall be as small as possible.
Your brother, James Cooper.
The de Lanceys were Huguenots and their loyalty to England during the Revolution made several of them British officers. Although Cooper was ever a staunch American, this incident, with several others in his later life, seemed unfavorable to some few who were only too willing to question his loyalty.
Miss de Lancey's great grandfather, Stephen, was the first of this
aristocratic Westchester-County family on American soil. He fled from
Normandy on the revocation of the edict of Nantes, and in 1686 came to
New York. Here his son James became chief-justice and
lieutenant-governor, and married Ann, eldest daughter of the Hon. Caleb
Heathcote, lord of the manor of Scarsdale, Westchester, and whose manor
house was Heathcote Hill, which their fourth son, John Peter de Lancey,
Cooper's father-in-law, inherited from his mother.
HON. CALEB HEATHCOTE.
GOV. JAMES DE LANCEY'S SEAL.
HEATHCOTE ARMS.
One of a number of
services the old-world Derbyshire Heathcote-Hill family rendered to its
country was giving to the Bank of England its first president.
The de Lancey name still clings to
the new-world history in Fraunces Tavern,
built by Stephen de Lancey in 1700, for his home. Sixty-two years later
it became the tavern of Samuel Fraunces. In 1776 and 1783 it was the
headquarters of General Washington, and in its famous Long Room "The
Father of his Country" made his farewell address, and bid adieu to his
generals.
FRAUNCES TAVERN.
FRAUNCES TAVERN LONG ROOM.
Number 130 Broadway was the de Lancey home of 1730, and here
was given the first inauguration ball of our nation. On this site was
built "Burn's Coffee House," which teemed with interesting events. The
City Hotel took its place in 1806.
BURN'S COFFEE HOUSE.
John Peter de Lancey married
Elizabeth, daughter of Col. Richard Floyd, and in 1789 came to Heathcote
Hill, Westchester County, which he rebuilt on the
site of the old manor
house, burned down. In this home he lived out his days. Here his son,
William Heathcote, Bishop of Western New York, was born; and also his
lovely daughter, Susan Augusta; here she was wooed and won by the
handsome young naval officer, and on New Year's day, 1811, became Mrs.
James Cooper. In 1899 Dr. Theodore F. Wolfe writes of Cooper and
Heathcote Hill—that some of the great trees which waved their green
leafage above him lingering here with sweetheart or bride yet shade the
grounds, but the household that welcomed him and gave him a beloved
daughter lie in a little grass-grown cemetery near to this old home.
HEATHCOTE HILL.
Mrs. Cooper had a sweet, gracious way of
guiding by affection her
husband, and he gave her his heart's devotion through the forty years of
their happily mated life. Cooper and his young bride began life by
playing a game of chess between the ceremony and supper. Then, he
driving two horses tandem, they made their wedding journey to
Cooperstown in a gig.
TANDEM.
His furlough ended a few months later, and to
please his
wife, he resigned in May from the navy. Long afterwards he
wrote, "She confesses she would never have done for Lady Collingwood."
For a year or more Cooper and his wife lived with her father at
Heathcote Hill, Mamaroneck, New York, and afterwards in a near-by
cottage on the "Neck," which Cooper named
"Closet Hall" because it was
so small, and he described it as the home of the Littlepage family in
"Satanstoe." Only two old willows remain of the group that almost
concealed Cooper's wee house, now entirely rebuilt, and they named the
place as the home of Alice B. Havens, who wrote here some of her poems
and stories—so Dr. Wolfe writes of Closet Hall. After some brief
housekeeping
in this "wee home," the young people again made a part of
the family at Heathcote Hill, where they lived until 1814. Then, with
the two little girls born to them, they went for a short time to
Cooperstown, and thence to their Fenimore farm of some one hundred and
fifty acres along Otsego's southwestern shores. "On a rising knoll
overlooking lake and village a handsome stone house was begun for their
life home."
COOPER'S FENIMORE FARM HOUSE.
The near-by hill, called Mount Ovis, pastured the Merino
sheep which he brought into the country. He loved his gardening, and was
active for the public good, serving as secretary of the county
Agricultural Society, and also of the Otsego County Bible Society. In
the full flush of youth and its pleasures there were the pleasant
diversions of driving, riding, and rowing. So lived flute-playing
Cooper, brave and handsome, at twenty-five.
Cooper's mother was then living with her older sons at Otsego Hall, and it is recorded that "she took great delight in flowers, and the end of the long hall was like a green-house, in her time"; that "she was a great reader of romances; a marvelous housekeeper, and beautifully nice and neat in her arrangements: her flower-garden at the south of the house was considered something wonderful in variety of flowers." Between her Old-Hall home and the families of her children,—Richard's on "Apple Hill," Isaac's at "Edgewater," Nancy's at the "Old Stone House," and James's at "Fenimore,"—these years were full of charm and interest for them all, which later became sweet and enduring memories. Sadness crept in, through the loss of James's daughter Elizabeth; but two more came to lift this shadow in the Fenimore home.
In 1817 Cooper and his young family started for a few month's visit to
Heathcote Hill, and later in this year he lost his mother. As the stone
house, then building at Fenimore, burned down in 1823, the land was sold
later, and the few months' expected absence grew into seventeen years.
Perhaps it was this thread of loss added to his wife's wishes that led
Cooper to build a country home on the Scarsdale farm,—a portion of the
de Lancey estate, which came to Mrs. Cooper after her marriage. Here he
built the picturesque home in which his literary career began. "Nothing
that Cooper knew remains excepting the superb land and water view,"
which drew him to place this home of his
there, and he has pictured
mile upon mile of the shimmering, sail-dotted Sound in scenes of his
"Water Witch." It is of record that the windows of the room in which he
wrote "Precaution," "The Spy," and "The Pioneers" overlooked this
enchanting vista which then and later claimed place in his books.
COOPER'S ANGEVINE FARM HOME.
It was
four miles from Mamaroneck and some twenty-five from New York City. The
height on which the new house stood was called Angevine, from a former
Huguenot tenant. It gave a glorious view over
miles of fine wooded
country, with a broad reach of Long Island Sound beyond, over which were
moving white, glittering sails "a sailor's eye loves to follow."
MAMARONECK CREEK SLOOPS.
Of active habits and vigorous health, Cooper threw himself with almost
boyish eagerness into the improvement and beautifying of this
homestead,—planning the barn, building the then new zigzag, ha-ha
fence, watching the growth of shrubs and trees that he had transplanted,
and with cheering talk lightening the labors of his workmen.
"In 1818 Cooper was made paymaster, and in the next year quartermaster in the Fourth Division of Infantry, New York State Militia. As Governor Clinton's aid, in blue and buff uniform, cocked hat, and sword, and title of colonel, he would go to reviews on his favorite horse, 'Bull-head.'"
At that time each village on the Sound had its sloop which carried the farmer's produce thrice a week through the perils of Hell Gate to Fulton market, and brought back tea, sugar, cloth, calicoes, and silks, and, perchance, some volume fresh from the London press,—a bit of Byron's brilliance, a romance from the unknown author of "Waverley," one of Miss Edgeworth's charming tales, or the more serious religious work of Wilberforce—which had "arrived by packet-ship from England"—the next day's papers would announce. Lucky was thought the household that could first cut the pages of the new print.
Reading, which always enters so naturally into country life, made
pleasant their evening hours and rainy days at Angevine. Mr. Cooper was
a fine reader. His voice was deep, clear, and expressive, and during
those quiet country evenings he often read aloud to one "who listened
with affectionate interest through a long life," and he read to her with
special pleasure. For Shakespeare he was always ready. Pope,
Thompson,
and Gray were also in favor, but not more than a page or two at a time
of Milton. He thought that Shakespeare should have written "Paradise
Lost." "He took the greatest delight in the 'Waverley' novels, and never
doubted they were written by Walter Scott, the poet. On one occasion a
new novel chanced to lie on the table and he was asked to read it. The
title and look of the book were not to his taste; he opened it, however,
and began. Suddenly, after reading through a few pages, it was thrown
aside in disgust: 'I can write a better book than that myself!' was his
exclamation." Mrs. Cooper laughed at the absurd idea that he, who
disliked writing even a letter, should write a book, and playfully
challenged him to make good his word; and when urged to begin, he at
once outlined a tale of English high-life. As the story grew, the writer
became interested, and before long the first pages of Cooper's first
book, "Precaution, or Prevention is Better than Cure," were written.
When finished, much to his amazement, Mrs. Cooper further urged him to
publish it; so, with the manuscript, they set out in their gig to seek
counsel of the Jays at Bedford, and other friends, who approved. "One
lady, not
in the secret, felt sure she had read it before." It was
published, without the author's name, August 25, 1820, and was credited
to an English woman. A.T. Goodrich, the publisher, surprised the public
by declaring it the work of an American gentleman of New York. It was
soon republished in England, and claimed the attention usually accorded
that style of book in its day. Whatever of its worth, the work had
awakened Cooper's powers; and its modest success in a field new to him
led his friends to urge him to write on subjects that were in near touch
with his daily life. None knew better than he the frontier and
sea-faring life of his own and
earlier times. So, then, for
home-country subjects, and thinking it would be his last attempt, he
exclaimed, "I will write another book!" and soon decided on patriotism
as its motif.
JUDGE JOHN JAY.
BEDFORD HOUSE.
At this period many were the visits to Judge Jay's
Westchester home at Bedford. The house, part of wood and part of stone,
had a spacious, comfortable piazza along its front. The interior had
more of cheerfulness than of elegance, but a great air of abundance, and
was a peaceful shelter for the waning days of that eminent statesman and
patriot. Of this household Cooper wrote later: "I scarcely remember to
have mingled with any family where there was a more happy union of quiet
decorum and high courtesy
than I met with beneath the roof of Mr. Jay."
To no place more fitting than his wistaria-covered library could Cooper
have gone for patriotic inspiration. The venerable Judge, as he smoked
his long clay pipe, used to delight in telling anecdotes of the
Revolution, "the truth of which," he said, "never had been and never
would be written."