Matthew Calbraith Perry: A Typical American Naval Officer. William Elliot Griffis
picked up; but our baby-boy added, “If I knew more, I would say it.” For this outburst of energy, he suffered maternal arrest. Placed in irons, or apron strings, he was tied up until repentant.
That was Matthew Perry—never doing less than his best. Action was limited only by ability—“If I knew more, I would say it.” The Japanese proverb says “The heart of a child of three years remains until he is sixty.” The western poet writes it, “The child is father of the man.” If he had known more, even in Yedo bay in 1854, he would have done even better than his own best; which, like the boast of the Arctic hero, was that he “beat the record.”
| [1] | See Appendix.—Origin of the Perry Name and Family. |
CHAPTER II.
BOYHOOD’S ENVIRONMENT.
In the year 1797, war between France and the United States seemed inevitable, and “Hail Columbia” was sung all over the land. The Navy Department of the United States was created May 21, 1798. Captain Perry, having offered his services to the government, was appointed by President Adams, a post-captain in the navy June 9, 1798, and ordered to build and command the frigate General Greene at Warren, R. I. The keels of six sloops and six seventy-four gun ships were also laid. In May, 1799, the General Greene was ready for sea.
With his son Oliver as midshipman, Captain Perry sailed for the West Indies to convoy American merchantmen. He left his wife and family at Tower Hill, a courtly village with a history and fine society. Matthew was five years old. He had been taught to read by his mother, and now attended the school-house, an edifice, which, now a century old, has degenerated to a corn-crib.
Mrs. Perry lived in “the court end” of the town, and, after school, would tell her little sons of their father and brothers at sea. This element was ever in sight with its ships, its mystery, and its beckoning distances. From Tower Hill may be seen Newport, Conanticut Island, Block Island, Point Judith, and a stretch of inland country diversified by lakes, and what the Coreans call “Ten thousand flashings of blue waves.”
After two brilliant cruises in the Spanish Main, and a visit to Louisiana, where the American flag was first displayed by a national ship, Captain Perry returned to Newport in May, 1800. Negotiations with France terminated peacefully, and the first act of President Jefferson was to cut down the navy to a merely nominal existence. Out of forty-two captains only nine were retained in service, and Captain Perry again found himself in private life.
The first and logical result of reducing the nation’s police force on the seas, was the outbreak of piracy. Our expanding commerce found itself unprotected, and the Algerian corsairs captured our vessels and threw their crews into slavery. In the war with the Barbary powers, our navy gained its first reputation abroad in the classic waters of the Mediterranean.
Meanwhile at Newport the boy, Matthew Calbraith, continued his education under school-teachers, and his still more valuable training in character under his mother. The family lived near “the Point,” and during the long voyages of the father, the training of the sons and daughters fell almost wholly on the mother.
It was a good gift of Providence to our nation, this orphan Irish bride so amply fitted to be the mother of heroes. Of a long line of officers in the navy of the United States, most of those bearing the name of Perry, and several of the name of Rodgers, call Sarah Alexander their ancestress. One of the forefathers of the bride, who was of the Craigie-Wallace family, was Sir Richard Wallace of Riccarton, Scotland. He was the elder brother of Malcom Wallace of Ellerslie, the father of Sir William Wallace. Her grandfather was James Wallace, an officer in the Scottish army, who signed the Solemn League and Covenant of 1643, but resigned his commission some years later. With other gentlemen from Ayrshire, he took refuge from religious persecution in North Ireland. Though earnest Protestants, they became involved in the Irish rebellion in Cromwell’s time and were driven to resistance of the English invaders.
As a young girl Sarah Alexander had not only listened to oft-repeated accounts of the battles and valor of her ancestors but was familiar with the historic sites in the neighborhood of her childhood’s home. She believed her own people the bravest in the world. Well educated, and surrounded with the atmosphere of liberal culture, of high ideas, of the sacredness of duty and the beauty of religion, she had been morally well equipped for the responsibilities of motherhood and mature life. Add to this, the self-reliance naturally inbred by dwelling as an orphan girl among five young men, her cousins; and last and most important, the priceless advantage of a superb physique, and one sees beforehand to what inheritance her sons were to come. One old lady, who remembers her well, enthusiastically declared that “she was wonderfully calculated to form the manners of children.” Another who knew her in later life writes of her as “a Spartan mother,” “a grand old lady.” Another says “Intelligent, lady-like, well educated;” another that “she was all that is said of her in Mackenzie’s Life of O. H. Perry.” Those nearest to her remember her handsome brown eyes, dark hair, rich complexion, fine white teeth, and stately figure.
The deeds of the Perry men are matters of history. The province of the women was at home, but it was the mothers, of the Hazard and the Alexander blood who prepared the men for their careers by moulding in them the principles from which noble actions spring.
Discipline, sweetened with love, was the system of the mother of the Perry boys, and the foundation of their education. First of all, they must obey. The principles of Christianity, of honor, and of chivalry were instilled in their minds from birth. Noblesse oblige was their motto. It was at home, under their mother’s eye that Oliver learned how to win victory at Lake Erie, and Matthew a treaty with Japan. She fired the minds of her boys with the ineradicable passion of patriotism, the love of duty, and the conquest of self. At the same time, she trained them to the severest virtue, purest motives, faithfulness in details, a love for literature, and a reverence for sacred things. The habit which Matthew C. Perry had of reading his Bible through once during every cruise, his scrupulous regard for the Lord’s day, the American Sunday, his taste for literature, and his love for the English classics were formed at his mother’s knee.
The vigor of her mind and force of her character were illustrated in other ways. While personally attractive with womanly graces, gentle and persuasive in her manners, she believed that self-preservation is the first law of nature. Training her sons to kindness and consideration of others, and warning them to avoid quarrels, she yet demanded of them that they should neither provoke nor receive an insult, nor ever act the coward. How well her methods were understood by her neighbors, is shown by an incident which occurred shortly after news of the victory at Lake Erie reached Rhode Island. An old farmer stoutly insisted that it was Mrs. Perry who had “licked the British.”
There was much in the social atmosphere and historical associations of Newport at the opening of this century to nourish the ambition and fire the imagination of impressible lads like the Perry boys. Here still lived the French veteran, Count Rochambeau of revolutionary fame. Out in the bay, fringed with fortifications of Indian, Dutch, Colonial and British origin and replete with memories of stirring deeds, lay the hulk of the famous ship in which Captain Cook had observed the transit of Venus and circumnavigated the globe. Here, possibly, the Norsemen had come to dwell centuries before, and fascinating though uncertain tradition pointed to the then naked masonry of the round tower as evidence of it. The African slave-trade was very active at this time, and brought much wealth to Newport and the old manors served by black slaves fresh from heathenism. Among other noted negroes was Phillis Wheatly the famous poetess, then in her renown, who had been brought to Boston in 1781 in a slave-ship. What was afterwards left to Portuguese cut-throats and Soudan Arabs was, until within the memory of old men now living, prosecuted by Yankee merchants and New England deacons whose ship’s cargoes consisted chiefly of rum and manacles. At this iniquity, Matthew Perry was one day to deal a stunning blow.
Here, too, had tarried Berkeley,