Sober reflection of later years has persuaded many who favored Impeachment that it was not justifiable on the charges made, and that its success would have resulted in greater injury to free institutions than Andrew Johnson in his utmost endeavor was able to inflict.

Before the

But Mr. Fessenden did not live until "sober reflection of later years" could persuade his detractors that they had been unjust to him. Before the anger which his action had aroused had subsided, he died at his home in Portland, Maine, September 8, 1869. For the last ten years of his life he had not been well. In 1858 he had been one of the victims of a mysterious sickness which broke out among the guests of the National Hotel in Washington, from the effects of which he never fully recovered. In the onerous duties imposed upon him he had doubtless overworked. So that when his final illness came, although at first thought to be not serious, it proved more than he could bear, and in about a week after he was first attacked he died. The suddenness of his death especially shocked the community in which he had lived, and there at least recent animosities were at once forgotten in the universal effort to do honor to his memory. The funeral services which took place in the First Parish church, where he had been a constant attendant, were largely attended, crowds waiting on the steps from early morning until the church should be open. The streets were lined with people as the funeral procession passed. All flags were at half-mast both in the city and on the shipping in the harbor, all the bells of the city tolled, and minute guns were fired from the fort and arsenal. That the mourning was

wide-spread and sincere was self-evident. Portland had lost her greatest citizen, the greatest man who had ever lived within her walls.

Mr. Fessenden was not what is called a popular man, that is, he did not have that quality best described, perhaps, as "personal magnetism," such as was possessed in such marked degree by that other distinguished son of Maine, who soon after occupied his seat in the Senate-Mr. Blaine. The people believed in his integrity, had confidence in his judgment, and admired his ability, but they were not inspired with a feeling of personal loyalty and of intense and unquestioning devotion to himself and his fortunes. His character did not appeal to their emotions. It was not their love he won. He appealed to their consciences and to their common sense, and they followed him because they were convinced that he was right. He was reserved and dignified in manner, and was, perhaps, somewhat aristocratic, had little patience with those whom he considered bores, cared nothing for the patronage of his position, and was often short and sharp with office seekers. He had a supreme contempt, which he took no pains to conceal, for those who were in politics for what they could make, and expected reward for political services. These traits naturally made him unpopular with certain classes, and gave him a reputation for being cold and unapproachable, but to those admitted to his personal friendship he was a most genial companion, and was by them held in such close affection as to prove such reputation undeserved. No man had warmer friends, and they knew,

as perhaps others did not, that a truer, kinder heart than his beat in no human breast.

Fessenden exercised in private life the same virtues that made his public career conspicuous. He had no private vices, such as dim the luster of the fame of Clay. He was always a perfect gentleman, courteous and refined. He was slight in figure, with erect and dignified carriage, and his face, finely cut and attractive, without being handsome, bore an expression of shrewdness and sagacity that did not suggest cunning. During the later years of his life he was so engrossed in public affairs that he had little time and less inclination for social life, and except to a few intimate friends he was essentially a public man.

He often seemed indifferent. to public opinion. He was, perhaps, too much so. Yet he was peculiarly sensitive to praise and censure, the more so, doubtless, because he was unwilling to purchase the one, or seek to conciliate the other, by concessions which he regarded as venal. He was not the man to feel the public pulse before making up his own mind. He was governed by principle, not by policy. But in the application of principles no one was more practical. He was not a theorist, and while believing that moral principles should underlie legislation, he realized that perfect righteousness is not always attainable in this world, and that what may be theoretically right is sometimes beyond the power of human legislatures to enact. He was remarkably modest. He never distributed copies of his speeches, and he made no collection of his works for publication. He underestimated

the importance of his public services. He had selfconfidence, but not self-assurance; self-respect, but not self-conceit.

His speeches are models of English style in the purity of their language and in the clearness of their composition. There are in them no metaphorical or other figurative expressions, no classical allusions or poetical quotations. They appealed to the reason and the common sense, not to the passions or the imagination. His was not an eloquence to move the masses, nor to win the applause of the galleries, but was most effective in bringing senators to his point of view. To him the Senate was a legislative body, an assembly convened for business, not an audience for oratorical display. He spoke not to win applause, but to win votes. Consequently it was as a debater, not as an orator, that he excelled, and in the parry and thrust of general debate he was without a peer. The ponderous orations of Sumner, which fill many volumes of his published works, held the Senate spellbound with their matchless eloquence, but the debates in which they were delivered were often influenced more by the five minute speeches of Fessenden, now buried in the columns of the Congressional Globe, than by the learned essays of his fellow Senator, so carefully preserved for an admiring posterity.

Fessenden was vigorous and strong in intellect, keen and sagacious in judgment, practical in striving for results, but the great overshadowing elements of his fame and character were an integrity of purpose yielding to no temptation, persuasion or circumstance, and

a moral and physical courage which no threatened disaster could shake. Utterly indifferent to danger, he trod only the straight path of rectitude.

Maine never had a son before of whom she was so proud. The Senate of the United States never bore upon its long distinguished roll a name deserving more honor. A model senator, with a character that was Roman in the highest sense, inflexible, yet courteous, pure without ostentation.

MINISTRY ON THE KENNEBEC. PERIOD OF THE INDIAN WARS.

BY REV. HENRY O. THAYER.

Read before the Maine Historical Society, January 26, 1899. THE immigrants to New England were in the main a thoroughly religious people. No hamlet or settlement on the border of the vast wilderness remained long without services of worship or a stated ministry, if the inhabitants could find the means to provide them. At the Kennebec, almost the farthest eastern bound of occupation, pioneer ministers were welcomed, as shown in previous papers concerning Robert Gutch and Ichabod Wiswall.1

After the wreck of Philip's war, recovery and growth went forward for ten years, 1679-89, though disturbed and weakened by alarm and savage threats. The beginning and nucleus of the new settlement was

1 Collections Maine Historical Society, Vol. VIII, page 289; Vol. IX, page 113.