Chapter VI. ISAAC E. AND THE REST OF THE WORLD

"Blest was it in that dawn to be alive,

But to be young, was very heaven."

Isaac Edward Morse, the seventh generation in America, was thirteen years old when John Wesley Jarvis, perhaps one of the most noted American painters of the day, rendered a full length, lifesize painting of the lad, depicting him standing at the steps of his grandfather's house in Elizabethtowne. After attending Captain Partridge's school in Vermont and Connecticut, in the fall of 1828, he entered the Senior class at Harvard College. Here, Isaac E. roomed at the residence of Mr. Brown and was one of the last students, in point of time, to enter that so-famous "Class of 1829". At that time the college President's House, on the Boston road, was the only structure near the later "Harvard Square", and stood midway between the Charles River and the cluster of college buildings opposite the Commons. The campus buildings consisted of Massachusetts Hall, erected in 1720, the "New" Harvard Hall (rebuilt about 1766), and Hollis Hall; the latter being third in line from the direction of the President's House. These, with Holworthy Hall, at the far end, and Common's Hall and Old Chapel to the east, formed the "Yard". Between Hollis and Holworthy, was Stoughton Hall, and before each was the college pump. The "Class Day Tree", just west of the interval between Stoughton and Hollis was at that time scarcely more than a dozen years old. Harvard, then, and for some time to come, was one of the old colleges most popular with boys of the South, who as yet must go North, or to Europe, for their higher education. Every morning from the belfry of Harvard Hall, the students were summoned to Chapel and Class; and there were Proctors and Co-adjutors to keep the student body informed of the ancient duties required of them at such a hallowed spot. Other non-scholastic activities, not mentioned in the college catalog, included gathering about the "Smoking Punch", bonfires about the Pump, brisk canters on the horses from Willard and "Jemmy" Reaves' Livery Stable, and, "Oysters and Flip". And there was also, of course, as one of his classmates put it, the lovely "Marys and Annes and Elizas".

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Twice a day, a stage-coach driven by "Morse", - some distant relative, no doubt, - ran from Cambridge to Boston. Once in

See Appendix 91

the forenoon, and again in the early afternoon, this vehicle would dash up by the college and announce its journey to Boston by the blowing of the loud horn. Among Isaac E's best remembered professors was Dr. Popkin, Professor of Greek, whose eccentricities were subjects of great interest to the students in his classes, who, however, were the only persons privileged in his hearing to call him "Dr. Pop". Life in the College at that time has been graphically preserved in Abbott's "Cornerstone": "Very early in the morning the observer may see the lights at a few of the windows of the buildings inhabited by the students. They mark the rooms occupied by the more industrious, more resolute, who rise and devote an hour or two to their books by lamplight in the winter mornings. About day, the bells awaken the multitude of sleepers in all the rooms, and in a short time they are to be seen issuing from the various doors with sleepy looks, and with books under their arms, and some adjusting their hurried dress. The first who come down go slowly, others with quicker and quicker step as the tolling of the bell proceeds; and the last few stragglers run with all speed to procure their places before the bell ceases to toll. When the last stroke is sounded, it usually finds one or two too late, who suddenly stop and return slowly to their rooms. While the morning religious service is performed by the President or one of the Professors, the students exhibit the appearance of respectful attention, except that four or five, appointed for the purpose in different parts of the chapel, are looking carefully around to observe what persons are absent. A few also conceal under their cloaks, or behind a pillar or partition, between the pews, the books which contain their morning lesson....when prayers are over the several classes repair immediately to the rooms assigned respectively to them, and recite the first lesson of the day. During the short period which elapses between the recitation period, and the breakfast bell, college is a busy scene. Fires are kind ling in every room, groups are standing in every corner, or hurrying around the newly made fires; parties are running up and down stairs, two steps at a time, with the ardor and enthusiasm of youth ..... the breakfast brings the whole throng again and gathers them around the long tables in the Commons Hall or else gathers them among the private families in the neighborhood. An hour after breakfast, the bell rings for the commencement of the study hour -to prepare for their recitations at eleven o'clock. The afternoon is spent like the forenoon, and the last recitation of the winter's day is just before the sun goes down.....the remainder of the account varies with the disposition of the student....some assemble for mirth participation, or prowl around the entries and halls to perpetuate petty mischief, breaking the windows of some helpless

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freshman, or burning nauseous drugs at the keyhole of his door, --or rolling logs downstairs....".

A man's funeral oration is not perhaps the truest description of his real life. Nevertheless, Oliver Wendell Holmes, at the death of his old classmate, wrote his impression of Isaac E. as a student at Cambridge in 1828-29. "Here he at once arrested attention by those striking qualities which distinguished him from all his companions. His advent brought a new sensation to the little world of the University. He had seen more of life in its varied aspects than any of his new associates. To the liveliest of dispositions was joined a maturity of thought which made him seem older than his coevals. None of them can ever forget the impression he produced by his astounding humor, his shrewdness, his stories, his extraordinary freedom with old as well as young, as told in many an anecdote, which pleased the more venerable subjects of his good natured familiarities, as well as their juniors. He was so natural, so overwhelming with life, so irrepressable, had so much tact, such confidence in his taming powers, that no age or station was proof against his easy colloquial advances. He never offended, because his freedom was not a cloak for rudeness, but rather, the expression of an open nature. He had more of the true democratic instinct than was commonly found in a young gentleman of that day. Beneath his infinite gayety was a basis of strong convictions which he never hesitated to evow. Through all his knowledge of the world, it was easy to read the impulse of a generous and loving heart. His conversation was varied and entertaining and his vocabulary was like a new language in force and freshness. It enriched the college dialect with words and phrases which became the current coin of discourse in the gayest circles, and his quaint comparisons were constantly borrowed by less shining wits to illuminate their conversations. He delighted, he captivated, he fascinated by these gifts and graces, so that he was welcome in all circles, and it would have been hard to say whether young or old, man or woman, missed him most when he left them, feeling after a year's acquaintance as if they had known him a lifetime."

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Isaac E., was a member of that student organization, "Knights of the Square Table", K.S.T. it was called--as well as the "Porcellian Club" which according to Dixon Wector constituted the premier college club in America. This club indeed had a most interesting history. Towards the end of the eighteenth century, students calling themselves "Argonauts" met every other week for supper. They later changed their name to the "Pig Club", still later to the "Gentleman's Club", and finally to the name it bears to this day.