threaten to take awaye all from the citizins, as thoughe they had been
sent for, & hired by us. In so muche as the cittie, by maintaininge
so many soldiours, was nowe utterlye consumed. By whose infection
also so grevous a disease did welneere invade all the citizins that many,
through greefe, & trouble of mynde being afflicted, died thereof, wherew th
also my moste lovinge husbande was taken, so that there appeared no
hope of his life, whom God having pittie of mee most afflicted, w th out any
medicine applied, did heale. For in the towne ther was not any salves.
But as Seneca saieth, the goinge out of one evil is the steppe to another
that will come ; for beinge delivered by God from that disease, wee were
by & by beseeged w th a greater bande of enymies, w ch daie & night did
throwe fire into the cittie, that oftentimes in the night you woulde have
thought the whole towne had bin on fire. And all that time wee wer-e
constrained to lie hidde in wine cellars. But at lengthe when wee looked
for a happie ende of the warre, throughe the departure of the Marquis,
who was about to leade awaie his hoaste by night to another place, wee
fell into greater rniserie. flfor he was scarcelie goune out of the cittie w th
his hoaste, when the next daye the soldiers of the Bisshops & of the
Noringbers rushed into the cittie, & after they pilled it they sett it on
fire. But God tooke us out of the middest of the flames, when one even
of the enymies had admonished us to depart out of the cittie before it
burnt in every parte ; whose counsel obeyinge, wee went forthe, being
spoiled & made naked of all thinges, so that wee might not be suffered to
carry awaye a halfepeny. Nerelie in the middest of the market-place o r
garmentes were plucked from us, neither was there any thinge lefte mee,
but my smocke to cover my bodie w th all. And when wee were goune
out of the cittie, my husband was taken by the enymies, whom I coulde
not ransome w th a smal thinge ; but when I sawe him lead out of my sight,
I prayed to Almyghty God w th teares & sighes, who presently sent him
freed to me againe. But nowe beinge goune out of the cittie, wee knewe
not whether to goe. At last wee tooke o r iournye towards Hamelburgh,
unto w ch towne I was scarse able to creepe. ffor that towne was distant
three Germaine miles from Swinforde. And the townsmen were unwill-
inge to receive us ; for that they were forbidden to intertaine or harbour
any of us. But I, amongst the poore women, seemed of all the beggers
to bee a queene : I entered into that towne barefoote, my haire ruffeled,
w^ a torne coate, w ch indeede was not myne owne, but was lent mee of an
other woman. And through the wearysomenes of that iournie, at lengthe
also I fell into an ague, w ch held me all the time of my travaillinge. ffor
456 OLYMPIA MORATA.
when the Hamelburghs feared that it was not safe for them to let us abide
w th them any longe time, wee were forced, though I was sicke, w^in
fowre daies after to depart from thence. But there againe whilst wee were
compelled to passe by a certaiue towne of a Bishop, my husband was ap
prehended by the Bishops chefe officer, who saide that his most mercyfull
lorde comanded him to kill all psons that fled thether out of Swinforde.
Therfore we were holden captives there betwene hope & feare until wee
were let goe by the Bishops letters. And then at length God began to
looke mercifully upon us ; & brought us first to the noble Earle of Rinecks,
& afterwardes to the most honorable Countes Erbacks, who for the Chris
tian religion have often ventured their lives & the losse of their estates &
goodes, of whom wee were bountifully intertained, & w th many giftes.
Also we taried w th them many daies, until I was wel amended, & my
husband chosen to reade the phisicke lecture publickly in the Uiiiversitie
of Heidelbergh.
Inscription on the Tomb of Olympia Morata at Heidelberg.
DEO IMM. s.
Et virtu ti ac memorise Olympioe Moratas Fuluii Morati Mantuani, viri
doctiss. filiae, Andreae Grunthleri Medici conjugis lectissimae : fceminae,
cuius ingenium, ac singularis vtriusq ; lingua} cognitio ; in moribus autem
probitas, summumq ; pietatis studium, supra coniuiiem modum semper ex-
istimata sunt. Quod de eius vita hominum iudicium, beata mors, sanc-
tissime ac pacatissime ab ea obita, divino quoque confirmavit testinionio.
Obiit mutato solo a salute D. L. V. supra millesimu, sua3 a3tatis xxix.
Hie cum marito, & ^Emilio fratre sepulta. Guilielmus Rascalonius
M.D. B.B. MM. P P.
EMORY WASHBURN.
REMARKS AT A MEETING OF THE MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY,
APRIL 11, 1877.
A PURE, earnest, upright, and singularly useful life was
brought to a close, to the sorrow of us all, by the death of
our Second Vice-President, the Hon. EMORY WASHBURX, on
Sunday, the 18th of March last. The tributes which have
already been paid to his memory by the daily journals, by the
American Antiquarian Society, by the American Peace So
ciety, and other philanthropic associations, by members of both
branches of the Legislature of Massachusetts, and by those who
officiated at his funeral, have left little for any one to say
here to-day. Yet we cannot meet this morning, for the first
time since the sad event occurred, without recalling the loss we
have sustained as a Society and as individuals, nor without pla
cing on record some expression of our deep sense of the excellence
of his character and of the eminence of his career.
It was my good fortune to know Governor Washburn, more
or less intimately, for hardly less than half a century. I remem
ber him as a frequent guest at my father s table when I was
just leaving college, and when he was one of the youngest mem
bers of the Legislature of Massachusetts, as the representative
of his native town of Leicester. The cordial, amiable, and at
tractive disposition and manner which characterized him at that
early day were unchanged to the last. No cares or casual
ties of life, no occupations of business or study, no official eleva
tion, no professional engrossments, ever seemed to impair the
warmth of his friendships, or to disturb the genial current of his
social intercourse. He was a willing worker in every good
[457]
458 EMORY WASHBURN.
cause, and was never weary of doing obliging things for others.
His accomplishments as a lawyer, his successes at the bar, his
faithful services on the bench, his able discharge of the duties
of Governor of the Commonwealth, his devoted labors as Pro
fessor of the Harvard Law School, will not be forgotten or
overlooked by any one.
It happened to me, as President of the Old Whig Convention,
in 1858, which nominated him for the chief magistracy of the
State, to know how little that nomination was expected by him,
and how entirely unsought for it had been. He was still on the
ocean, returning from a visit to Europe, when the Convention
was held and the nomination made. Indeed, it may be justly
said of him that he never sought any thing, in the way of pub
lic office certainly, for himself ; while he was always ready to
serve his fellow-citizens in any station which might be assigned
to him.
In the pursuits of our own Society he took a lively interest,
and often made communications of importance at our meetings.
No one can examine our published volumes without finding
ample evidence of his labors in our service for many years past.
The amendment to our Charter, which we accepted at our last
meeting, was carried through the Legislature by him as a repre
sentative of Cambridge ; while the new serial number of our
" Proceedings," on the table this morning, contains an interesting
Memoir from his pen. His very latest efforts were thus in our
behalf. Meantime, his History of his native town, and his sketch
of the Judicial History of Massachusetts, will co-operate with his
elaborate legal essays on " Real Property " and on Easements
and Servitudes," in securing for his name an enviable remem
brance as an author.
He died at a good old age, having entered on his seventy-
eighth year on the 14th of February last. Yet the idea of ad
vanced years was never associated with him, so young was he
in heart, so vigorous in step, so full in the enjoyment and so free
in the exercise of every intellectual and physical faculty. The
mortal malady struck him while in the active performance of
his duties at the State House, as a member of the Legislature of
Massachusetts.
WEDNESDAY EVENING CLUB.
ADDRESS AT THE CENTENNIAL COMMEMORATION OF THE CLUB,
MAY 9, 1877.
I HAVE been hoping, Mr. Secretary, sincerely hoping, that
I might be excused altogether this evening ; and now, that I
have been so kindly I had almost said so cruelly called on,
I must be pardoned if all that I attempt to say shall take the
form of an apology, rather than of an address.
I left New York only an hour before noon to-day, rather than
miss this meeting ; and I could not help thinking, as I came
along, that if the nine men our sacred Nine who founded
this Club just a hundred years ago, could have had it predicted
to them that two of their successors for my friend Mr. Mason
was with me should come all the way from New York to
Boston, in seven hours, to celebrate their Centennial, they
would, one and all, have pronounced it as incredible and fabu
lous as any thing in the Arabian Nights. And I am not quite
sure, sir, that our successors, a hundred years hence, \vill have
seen any thing in this line more remarkable. There must be
a practical limit to the speed of human locomotion, and I some
times doubt if it has not been almost reached.
Such a journey, however, has not been without fatigue ; and
absent as I have been from home for nearly a month past, and
having returned thus rapidly only two hours ago, I am afraid
I shall find it impossible to collect my scattered and jaded
thoughts, and to deal, as I could wish to deal, with the only
topics befitting this occasion.
[459]
460 WEDNESDAY EVENING CLUB.
But, indeed, sir, were it otherwise with me, I should hardly
know how to add any thing worth adding to what has been
already so impressively said by yourself, and by the other
gentlemen who have followed you.
And then, too, Mr. Secretary, all the associations, all the
traditions, all the usages, of this Club seem to rise up in judg
ment before me at this moment, and to protest against my
attempting any thing like a formal speech. Why, sir, the
great peculiarity and the great charm of our meetings, from
first to last, has been their purely unceremonious and uncon
ventional character. We have come together, from week to
week, always and only, to exchange words and thoughts and
feelings in the most social and conversational way " dextrse
jungere dextram, ac veras audire et reddere voces." In our
whole hundred years, there has hardly been such a thing as a
formal address heard at our meetings until to-night; and one
almost instinctively shrinks from celebrating our Centennial
Anniversary by a direct defiance and violation of a custom,
which has held us together in unity and harmony so long. My
own tongue, certainly, would cleave to the roof of my mouth,
were I to attempt malice aforethought any thing rhetor
ical to-night. I fear it is beginning to do so already.
And yet, my friends, I should in vain endeavor to repress
some acknowledgment, feeble and faltering though it may
prove to be, of the satisfactions and enjoyments which I
have derived, in common with you all, from my relations to
this Club.
In looking back, indeed, over the forty years since I was
elected a member of it, I find that I have been a terrible truant,
and that long, long gaps have occurred in my attendance at its
meetings. Nearly twelve years of public service at Washing
ton, and repeated visits to Europe, have made a large deduction
from my enjoyment of the opportunities and privileges which
belong to our membership. Yet enough, and more than enough,
has been left for the most grateful remembrance. The mere
consciousnes s that once in every week, on a stated night, we
were privileged to go if we were in the way of going to the
house of a friend, to meet familiar faces, and to learn the latest
WEDNESDAY EVENING CLUB. 461
word in all the departments of law or medicine, of theology or
science, of commerce or politics, from the chosen representatives
of every profession and calling, has been, I venture to say, for
all of us, as I know it has been for myself, a source of
gratification and pleasure not easily exaggerated, and one quite
apart from the enjojanents of the meetings themselves.
But the meetings themselves, I need not say, have never
been wanting in materials of entertainment of almost every
variety. I have more than once wished, since we began to
contemplate this Centennial commemoration, that there could
have been kept some continuous record of these weekly meet
ings. What a story it would have told of men and of events !
Even now, it may not be too late to gather up the reminiscences
and traditions of our meetings, and to make them into a little
book of remembrance, a little volume of " Memorabilia of the
Wednesday Club," with sketches and photographs, perhaps,
of persons and places. There may be diaries from which facts
may be gleaned, like the diary of our illustrious member John
Quincy Adams, from which we have just heard. A group of
this very Centennial gathering would be a fit frontispiece for
such a volume.
From such a record, the distinguished guests we have so
often had with us could not be omitted. I recall the occa
sional presence at my own house, or at others houses, not
merely of such men as Webster and Everett, and good Bishops
Fitzpatrick and Eastburn, and Governor Clifford and Governor
Washburn, and Agassiz, of our own State and neighborhood ;
but of Lyell and Thackeray, of William C. Rives and Thomas
H. Benton, of George Peabody and Dr. Barnas Sears. I am
particular in recalling this last name, because I cannot but
remember that the accident I should rather say the Provi
dence of Dr. Sears s presence at one of our meetings deter
mined the whole direction and success of the Peabody Trust
for Southern Education. It was at this Club, ten or eleven
years ago, that I first communicated to him the great endow
ment of Mr. Peabody, and took the first step towards securing
his inestimable advice and counsel in its administration.
And from that little volume of Memorabilia, as made up by
462 WEDNESDAY EVENING CLUB.
our excellent Secretary, who alone could do it justice, he would
not willingly omit, I am sure, an account of some of our anom
alous and exceptional meetings : That, for example, at the
Cafd de Paris, in 1868, when six or seven of our number, of
whom he and I were two, had so humorous and so charming
a reunion in a foreign land. And I should be sorry to have
him forget a meeting at Brookline, too, when the Club did me
the favor and honor to come out to my suburban villa, where
I was passing a winter ; their first and only meeting in the
country, I believe, and the only one at which the visible pres
ence of ladies was welcomed at our repast.
Of the men with whom we have been associated as members,
not a few have been already named with peculiar interest and
affection, Judge Davis, James Savage, Ephraim Peabody,
and Charles Mason ; the Curtises, Dr. Homans, and Dr. Hay-
ward. But I confess I have no stronger or more vivid personal
association, to-night, than with Francis C. Gray, so genial,
so accomplished, so quick-witted, with such a marvellous mem
ory, with such an exhaustless fund of information and anecdote.
The Club has had no more devoted member, certainly, in my
day, nor any one more worthy of respectful and affectionate
remembrance on this occasion.
But I dare not trespass longer on the closing hours of our
festival, lest I should be held responsible for the ice-cream
being melted, or for the stewed oysters being cold. Let me
only remind you how striking a contrast our Century Club
for so it must henceforth be called presents to that which I
have just visited in New York, with its five or six hundred
members and all its sumptuous apartments and appointments !
That Club, which owed its name, I believe, to the original
number of its members, is a comparatively modern creation of
the wealth and culture of the great Commercial Metropolis of
our country. No one who has experienced the charm of its
hospitality so recently as I have done, can fail to recognize it as
a grand institution, worthy of the noble city it adorns, and fitly
presided over, at one time by the late genial Gillian. C. Ver-
planck, and now by the veteran poet, William C. Bryant. But
what a contrast it presents to that on which Time, rather than
WEDNESDAY EVENING CLUB. 463
any caprice or choice of our own, is now casting the same or a
similar title !
Founded in the darkest hours of our revolutionary struggle,
with only nine members at the outset, and hardly more than
three times nine now, our little Club has gone along quietly
and prosperously for a hundred years. Quietly and prosper
ously, I trust, it will not fall short of a second century ; and we
all hope and predict that it may live a thousand years. It is
peculiarly a Home Club, not dependent on costly buildings or
onerous assessments, and without any popular element which
could be affected by accidental circumstances. It will not be
permitted to die out ; and we may confidently send down our
greetings and good wishes as we hereby all do to those
who shall celebrate its successive Centennials, in a far, far
remote futurity, with our heartiest hopes and prayers that
they may be in the enjoyment of all, and more than all, the
social and political advantages in which we now rejoice ; and
that they may remember our names as kindly and as proudly
as we, this night, recall those of George Richards Minot, and
John Eliot, and John Quincy Adams, and John Thornton Kirk-
land, and the rest, whom we look back upon so reverently as
our forerunners and founders I
QUINCY AND MOTLEY.
REMARKS AT A MEETING OF THE MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY,
JUNE 14, 1877.
OUR first thoughts to-day, Gentlemen, are of those whom
we may not again welcome to these halls. We shall be in no
mood, certainly, for entering on other subjects this morning,
until we have given some expression to our deep sense of the
loss the double loss which our Society has sustained since
our last monthly meeting.
When our valued associate, Mr. EDMUND QUINCY, took his
seat at this table for the first time as our Recording Secretary,
on the 10th of May last, there was hardly one of our number,
I think, for whom many years to come might have been more
reasonably hoped, or more confidently predicted. Active,
cheerful, vigorous, without an infirmity which betrayed itself
to the most observing eye, he seemed to promise as protracted
an old age as that of his honored father, who was so long the
Nestor of our Society. We all counted on a long continuance
of his services, and of his cherished companionship, as a matter
of course, and without the slightest misgiving.
In the providence of God, however, a single week sufficed
to complete his earthly career. Returning to his pleasant
residence at Dedham, after a day of various occupation in the
way of duty at Cambridge and in Boston, he was struck by a
sudden illness on the afternoon of the 17th ultimo, and reached
his home only to die. Many of us had the sad privilege of
[464]
QUINCY AND MOTLEY. 465
attending his funeral on the 21st, and it only remains for us
now to pay a parting tribute to his memory, and fill his place
as best we may.
It is not for me to attempt any sketch of his life or character.
Yet I may not forget that my acquaintance with him was not
of yesterday. Indeed, I can hardly remember a time when I
did not know him. We were friends in our earliest boyhood,
as we were friends in our latest manhood. Nearly sixty years
ago, I think, the houses of our fathers and mothers were next
door to each other, and we were mingling often in the same
sports and preparing for the same pursuits, if not attending the
same schools. And though he entered college a year before I
did, there was hardly one of my own class with whom I was
more intimate than with him. With common tastes and com
mon friendships, we were long members of the same household,
and always of the same Clubs.
I recall especially a journey to the White Hills which we
made together during one of the college vacations. It was no
ordinary or easy expedition at that day. Much of it was to be
made on foot, and there were not a few hardships to be encoun
tered along the route. There were thick woods to be traversed ;
there were swollen streams to be waded ; there was a night to
be passed in the open air. And then the disappointments !
Though we had rainbows beneath our feet, and glorious
glimpses of sky above our heads, when we were half-way up,
we reached the summit of Mount Washington only to find
ourselves enveloped in a drenching mist which cut off all our
view. Thus early and impressively were we both admonished
that the loftiest climbings do not always lead to sunshine, and
that he who takes " Excelsior " for his motto, in its true spirit,
must look higher than any earthly mountains. It was the very
season of a most memorable landslide, and the rains were already
descending which were to wash down hills and forests and human
habitations. I cannot but remember that we passed some hours
in the well-known Willey House, hardly a fortnight before its
inmates were to fly from the avalanche, and not a few of them
to perish in their flight.
During all that trying trip, which I recall the more vividly
460 QUINCY AND MOTLEY.
from having myself been prostrated by the fatigue, Quincy
never lost his patience or endurance, or that sort of philo
sophical equanimity which so peculiarly characterized him both
as boy and man. He was the same brave, cheery, charming
companion when we were clambering over those rocks, or
confronting those pelting rains, as he was here last month
in these historical halls, where he had endeared himself
so much to us all, when he laid down the pen, which
had just been committed to him, with a characteristic pleas
antry, and looked forward confidently to resuming it this
morning.
I have said that we were friends in our earliest boyhood
and in our latest manhood. But I may not forget, in justice
to him, if not to myself, that there was a long interval during
which our ways of life were quite apart, and our associations
and sympathies interrupted. I am not aware, however, that
we ever indulged in mutual reproaches for our different views
of social or political or sectional questions. At any rate, we
happily lived long enough to come back to a complete rejuve
nescence of our old relations of cordial regard and friendship,
and to find out that, after all, our views of measures and of
men had not been so widely different as they seemed to have
been, either to others or to ourselves. Certainly, there are few
persons who had a higher appreciation of his sterling qualities
of mind and heart than I had, or who more sincerely lament
his loss, personally, socially, and as a most valuable member
of this and many other Associations. One could not but feel
that he had capacities still unused, and that he had reached a
vantage-ground where his great reading, his classical scholar
ship, his ready wit and racy humor and graceful pen, might
have won new honors for himself, and accomplished valuable
results, for biography or history, in our own or some other
service.
But he had done enough to secure a pleasant and enduring
remembrance of his name, as one of a family which has rarely
been without a distinguished representative since the earliest
Edmund Quincy came over to New England with John Cotton
in 1633. His little novel, " Wensley," was said by Whittier
QUINCY AttD MOTLEY. 467
to be the most readable book of the kind since Hawthorne s
" Blithedale Romance." His contributions to the anti-slavery
press for many years were pungent and powerful. His Life
of his father, prepared in co-operation with an accomplished
sister, will always have a place among our choicest American
biographies ; and it was fitly followed by a volume of his
father s remarkable speeches in Congress. The little Memoir
of Charles Sprague which he contributed to our own volumes
of Proceedings will not be forgotten, nor his very recent
Lecture delivered in aid of the fund for the preservation of the