MEMOIR. THE memory of the late Mr. Whitney is so fondly cherished by his fellow citizens, out of respect to his distinguished talents, his private virtues, and his public spirit, and his name holds so honorable a place among the benefactors of our country, that the wish has often been intimated to us of seeing a more extended biography of him, than has hitherto been given to the public. We now enter with pleasure upon such a task; and to enable us to do the better justice to the subject, we have been favored with access to his extensive correspondence, and to all his other writings, and have conferred freely with various persons, who were long and intimately acquainted with him. ELI WHITNEY was born at Westborough, Worcester County, Massachusetts, December 8, 1765. His parents belonged to the middle class in society, who, by the labors of husbandry, managed, by uniform industry and strict frugality, to provide well for a rising family. From the same class have arisen most of those who, in New England, have attained to high eminence and usefulness; nor is any other situation in society so favorable to the early formation of those habits of economy, both of time and money, which, when carried forward into the study of the scholar, or the field of active enterprise, afford the surest pledge of success. The paternal ancestors of Mr. Whitney emigrated from England among the early settlers of Massachusetts, and their descendants were among the most respectable farmers of Worcester County. His maternal ancestors, of the name of FAY, were also English emigrants, and ranked among the substantial yeomanry of Massachusetts. A family tradition respecting the occasion of their coming to this country, may serve to illustrate the history of the times. The story is, that, about two hundred years ago, the father of the family, who resided in England, a man of large property and great respectability, called together his five sons and addressed them thus: "America is to be a great country; I am too old to emigrate to it myself; but if any one of you will go, I will give him a double share of my property." The youngest son instantly declared his willingness to go, and his brothers gave their consent. He soon set off for the New World, and landed at Boston, in the neighborhood of which place he purchased a large tract of land, where he enjoyed the satisfaction of receiving two visits from his venerable father. His son, John Fay, from whom the subject of this memoir is immediately descended, removed from Boston to Westborough, where he became the proprietor of a large tract of land, since known by the name of the Fay-Farm. From Mrs. B., the sister of Mr. Whitney, we have derived some particulars respecting his childhood and youth, and we shall present the anecdotes to our readers in the artless style in which they are related by our correspondent, believing that they would be more acceptable in this simple dress, than if, according to the modest suggestion of the writer, they should be invested with a more labored diction. The following incident, though trivial in itself, will serve to show at how early a period certain qualities of strong feeling, tempered by prudence, for which Mr. Whitney afterwards became distinguished, began to display themselves. When he was six or seven years old, he had overheard the kitchen-maid, in a fit of passion, calling his mother, who was in a delicate state of health, hard names, at which he expressed great displeasure to his sister. "She thought (said he) that I was not big enough to know any thing; but I can tell her, I am too big to hear her talk so about by mother. I think she ought to have a flogging, and if I knew how to bring it about, she should have one." His sister advised him to tell their father. "No, (he replied,) that will not do; it will hurt his feelings and mother's too: and besides, it is likely the girl will say she never said so, and that would make a quarrel. It is best to say nothing about it." Indications of his mechanical genius were likewise developed at a very early age. Of his early passion for such employments, his sister gives the following account. "Our father had a workshop, and sometimes made wheels, of different kinds, and chairs. He had a variety of tools, and a lathe for turning chair-posts. This gave my brother an opportunity of learning the use of tools when very young. He lost no time; but as soon as he could handle tools he was always making something in the shop, and seemed not to like working on the farm. On a time, after the death of our mother, when our father had been absent from home two or three days, on his return, he inquired of the housekeeper, what the boys had been doing? She told him what B. and J. had been about. But what has Eli been doing? said he. She replied, he has been making a fiddle. 'Ah! (added he despondingly,) I fear Eli will have to take his portion in fiddles.' He was at this time about twelve years old. His sister adds, that this fiddle was finished throughout, like a common violin, and made tolerably good music. It was examined by many persons, and all pronounced it to be a remarkable piece of work for such a boy to perform. From this time he was employed to repair violins, and had many nice jobs, which were always executed to the entire satisfaction, and often to the astonishment, of his customers. His father's watch being the greatest piece of mechanism that had yet presented itself to his observation, he was extremely desirous of examining its interior construction, but was not permitted to do so. One Sunday morning, observing that his father was going to meeting, and would leave at home the wonderful little machine, he immediately feigned illness as an apology for not going to church. As soon as the family were out of sight, he flew to the room where the watch hung, and taking it down, he was so delighted with its motions, that he took it all in pieces before he thought of the consequences of his rash deed; for his father was a stern parent, and punishment would have been the reward of his idle curiosity, had the mischief been detected. He, however, put the work all so neatly together, that his father never discovered his audacity until he himself told him, many years afterwards." |