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proxy. The directors practically govern
the business of the company; but they must
report all their doings in the minutest detail
to the stockholders, and they, on their part,
appoint from among themselves two or
more auditors to examine the accounts each
quarter. If the share-holders approve of the
work, they may give the directors such re-
muneration as they think best, and this pay
is divided among the directors in accord-
ance with their attendance at the directors'
meetings. This attendance is printed in full
in the reports, so that every stockholder is
informed as to the fidelity of his officers.
In addition to the share capital, all these
companies take loans of any amount, how-
ever small, subject to call (or after notice),
and pay interest thereon at certain fixed and
rather low rates. Thus they become sav-

banks for their work-people and shareholders, while the additional capital enables them to do with less share capital, and, as the loans only earn interest, the resulting profits go to the shares in the form of dividends.

stances. The houses are low, two-story brick buildings, of a dull and uniform character, as if designed for economy and snug living. There are very few costly residences, and the only structures of any size or pretensions to elegance are the enormous cottonmills scattered through the town. These mills are uniformly strong, durable and substantial. The engines and machinery employed in them are of the latest and most approved designs, and the whole atmosphere of the town, houses and mills together, suggests labor and business.

Oldham is a joint-stock town, a community of share-holders. That they are a prosperous people needs no showing. There are the mills, vast and costly structures erected by the £5 share-holder. There are the Oldham newspapers, with whole columns devoted to the poor man's share mar-ings ket. Moreover, these companies are generally managed by men of exceptional ability, and behind these directors and managers are the share-holders taking a real and lively interest in their affairs. They are many of them spinners and workers in the mills, and familiar with the details of the business from daily experience. If the engine is wasteful of steam, if the boilers devour coal needlessly, if the spindles make less thread for a ton of coal burned than they should, if the prices paid for oil, coal and materials are too high, if the manager is obtuse to the merits of new machinery, straightway they begin to catechise the directors vigorously. At times, there are stormy quarterly meetings, at which the £5 share-holder speaks his mind and instructs the directors concerning their duty.

A brief glance at the general plan on which these companies are founded may be interesting. The shares in such companies are generally valued at 5 or 10 pounds, and they may be obtained by small payments, a shilling to two at a time, as the money may be called in. Failure to pay the installments subjects the holder to some expense, and a total refusal to pay destroys the share and the previous payments are forfeited to the company. All the paid-up shares earn interest, and may be transferred at will. The share-holders assemble at regular and frequent meetings to consider the affairs of the company and to listen to the quarterly reports and balance-sheets. Each stock holder has one vote, and one vote only at these meetings, and he cannot vote by

Here the shirt-maker, the spinner and weaver, the clerk and the laborer have found their opportunity, and have solved, in part, the question of their work and wages. These Oldham spinners have had the courage to save their money, and the ability to select boards of directors and mill managers equal to any in England. Moreover, their mills are as secure as any such in the hands of private parties. The vast loan capital held by the companies is an exceptional advantage, and they are less subject to a "run than the ordinary savings bank. The workers in the mills and the stockholders are the holders of the loans, and they are not likely to ruin their own property by a foolish panic. They have climbed out of the depths of poverty, and they cling to their shillings with a tenacity and conservative obstinacy which the more wealthy capitalist rarely shows. They well know that every shilling of the loans will be paid before the shares get a penny. The mill and the shares are the security; the lenders are themselves the borrowers. This is not co-operation, but it is one solution of the labor question. The Oldham spinner has become a capitalist. He has climbed a step higher in the scale; he has learned, first, economy, then courage, and finally skill. His wages may be no better than before; but he has earned other wages,-interest and dividends.

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was a standing rule of the house, if such or
such persons came, they were not to leave
without receiving some hospitality. A mu-
sician, a poor dusty trumpeter whose merits
had never been acknowledged by the public,
though he possessed wonderful skill and taste,

STUART had by nature an irritable temperament, which many circumstances were calculated to make still more irritable. The constant interruption to which he was subjected became exasperating. I presume this is always the accompaniment of distinction; but, in his case, it was peculiarly-one of those persons who had been elbowed irritating. I think it is a peculiar trait in aside in the great race of humanity,-used to our people that they have such an objec- call on Stuart. He would give him a good It was a tion to solitude that if any one wishes to dinner, and then talk upon musical subjects be alone he becomes a universal wonder- with him for hours afterward. great enjoyment to the poor man, who was ment. made happier by feeling that his genius was appreciated, and also that a comfortable addition would be made to his pocket-book. There was also an old Revolutionary officer, a gentleman who had witnessed sad reverses, and who was ever a welcome guest at Stuart's table, and who never left the house without his purse being in a more prosperous confather dition. My sister Agnes, then a little child, said to my mother: " Why does ålways pay Major J— for dining here?"


At one period he could not command sufficient time to obtain any refreshment from ten o'clock in the morning until seven o'clock in the evening, to which time he was obliged to postpone his dinner-hour. This could not last, and, finally, he would only receive some favorite friend, after having been occupied in painting all the morning. This, of course, made him enemies. Feeling weary of all this, he concluded that he would take a residence in the country for the summer, to finish a picture quietly and have some repose; but there my mother had the greatest difficulty in obtaining servants. At length, some one recommended a very clever person who had lived in a camp, and was man-of-all-work. One day, on going to the window, I saw a carriage approaching the house; I only had time enough to tell my father, and ask if he could receive any one. He answered: "It is impossible-I cannot leave my picture." I then told the man not I said this in rather to let those people in. an excited manner, as I heard them coming up the steps. I saw him disappear, and in a moment return, armed with a long catstick. The knocking at the door now commenced. At this, Thomas flourished the stick over his head in the most Donnybrook His extraordinary and defiant manner. action so astonished me, and, as I suppose,

While he was engaged with his whole soul in portraying the character of some remarkable person, his door would be besieged by persons who must see him, and, frequently, At times he for the most trifling purpose. would be so disturbed as not to feel like going into his painting-room again for the whole day. He was pursued, among others, by young aspirants for artistic fame, who brought drawings or paintings which he was expected to admire as a matter of course. Whenever any of these juvenile performances were criticised, the young artist would leave him, with the consolation that Stuart He was envious of his great genius.* would on such occasions inquire of the person whether painting was pursued through taste or necessity? If it was the latter, he advised the youth by all means to avoid art. The life of an artist, he declared one of trial and disappointment. If he saw anything like a real love of art, and a willingness to go through the toil attendant on the required study, he would insist that no man could be a fine artist who had not a general education. If any young man apparently not in very good circumstances came to him for instruction, it never failed to depress Stuart greatly, as his own early struggles were thus recalled.

I am happy to say that benevolence was one of Stuart's predominating qualities. Anything like adverse fortune or neglected merit was sure to find a place in his regard. It

This puts me in mind of a couple of wood-sawyers who went up to his painting-room to be paid for their work. He would not be disturbed, which provoked them exceedingly. Coming downstairs, one nudged the other and said: "Lord, he's only afeared we shall steal his trade!" My sister heard this remark as she descended the stairs behind them.

produced such a variety of expressions on my face, that the poor fellow became yet more determined. "Never mind, Miss, they sha'n't get in." The knocking commenced again and was answered by another flourish of the cat-stick, the fellow returning the knock from within, and shouting at the top of his voice, "D-n you, you sha'n't get in.”

that Stuart was unkind to his nephew, Stuart Newton, is utterly without foundation, and I am happy to say that Newton had the justice to contradict it the last time he was in this country. That my father was frequently out of temper, is too true; but any reasonable person could make some apology for a man harassed as he was with the vanity and caprice of the public, as all artists have been and ever will be. As Newton almost lived at our house, I conclude he must have witnessed some of these outbursts, which, however, he found it convenient not to notice, as it would have interfered with the advantages he was enjoying.

I put on the most impressive manner and insisted upon his leaving the door, when I opened it to a group of astonished friends, who, after my explanation, enjoyed a most hearty laugh.

I cannot say that I ever heard Stuart speak much upon the subject of religion, but he never treated it with anything but solemnity. I am sorry to say that he seldom or ever could go to church; the fatigue of the week made Sunday literally a day of rest. Besides, he had the idea that people could pray without going to church. I may add that he rarely painted on that day,-not more than once or twice that I can recollect, and then it was for some person about to start for Europe on urgent business. I remember he found me, one rainy Sunday, trying to amuse myself by painting, and he said, in a very angry manner, "I shall not allow this;" and then, feeling that he had spoken rather sharply, he said pleasantly, "Don't you know, boy, that people who have been hanged always commenced their wickedness by breaking the Sabbath?" "Boy" was my pet name with him.


One fine summer morning, seeing the family preparing to go to church, he said, to the astonishment of everybody, Well, I think I will go." My mother was delighted, and said, "Oh, do go! You know Doctor Gardner is a great favorite of yours, and I dare say he will be glad to see you there." My sister Anne mentioned afterward that when he was in church he stood leaning over the pew when everybody else was sitting, took snuff, and was very much at his ease; yet he paid great attention to the sermon. At the close of the service the Doctor came down the aisle, shook hands, and told him how delighted he was to see him, etc. But on his way home he said, "Well, I do not think I shall go to church again." My sister said, "Why?" "Oh," said he, "I do not like the idea of a man getting up in a box and having all the conversation to himself." One can very readily understand his wanting to put in a word or two, now and then. The rumor, which prevailed at one time, July.

When Newton returned to this country I thought him a most interesting person. He came to see me, and I must say he did not appear as if he had been very ill treated by his uncle. Colonel Aspinwall, for many years United States consul at London, knew him well, and said he was very much sought for by distinguished people, and that among his varied talents was his ability to relate a story in the most captivating manner. He told one to Walter Scott, which delighted him exceedingly. Washington Irving afterward related the same story in the presence of Scott, who said to some one, Oh, but he could not tell it as Newton did." He afterward painted a portrait of Sir Walter which was considered very fine. There are many fine pictures from his pencil in the private galleries in England, for which fabulous prices were given. Lord Liverpool has a particularly fine one of "Catalani singing for the Prince of Spain."


The portrait of Daniel Webster, though superbly painted, did not give universal satisfaction; yet it had all the depth of expression for which Webster was so remarkable, without that exaggeration which it is astonishing to find so acceptable to the public.* Mr. Webster was a constant visitor of my father. I saw him almost daily. I met him, at a later date, in Philadelphia, after he had had a very severe fall, and I was painfully struck with the change in his appearance. His whole countenance was altered. altered. Suffering had given him a wild, distressed expression, and his complexion, though naturally dark, had taken a yellow and cadaverous hue. This is the impression the public had of his face, the year previous to his death.

With the regard to the picture my father

* See Major Webster's oration on the fourth of


painted of him, I will give a copy of a note I received from Mrs. Davis, wife of Mr. Isaac P. Davis, who, I presume everybody is aware, was a very intimate friend of Mr. Webster. Also a note from Mrs. Paige:


MY DEAR JANE,-I cheerfully comply with your request about Mr. Webster's portrait. It hung in our parlor several years. One day, while visiting us, he stood for some time before the picture, and made a low bow to it, saying, "I am willing that shall go down to posterity.' When he sat to your father, he had just returned from Washington, looking very pale and thin, and far from well. Dutton used to say it reminded him of Vandyke's portraits he had seen in England. Sincerely yours,



18 Chancy St. Boston.


DEAR MISS STUART,-I send the portrait of Mr. Webster recently arrived from Marshfield. I regret I cannot accompany it myself to your rooms, but I have now been confined to the house for two weeks by illness which still prevents my going out. garding the portrait, Mr. Paige desired me to say, with his regards, that "he would like the copy as near in all respects as possible to the original." Monday, Yours with regard, 62 Summer St. March 17th.


Mr. Paige was brother-in-law of Mr. Webster. It is evident that he thought the portrait a good likeness. Stuart once painted a head of a friend to whom he was very much attached, and who had recently died. But the panel upon which it was painted began to split through the middle. My father tried to find some one who could join it without injury, but all declined it as an impossibility. One person who happened to see it, however, declared with great confidence that he was sure he could do the work satisfactorily. He took the panel away, and in time it was returned joined in the neatest and firmest manner; but lo and behold, the man had shaved the picture down until all the features met! The nostrils came together, also the corners of the mouth, entirely leaving out the bridge of the nose. When things are written with care for the press and then are cut down to suit the publishers, I am always reminded of this occurrence, for the latter process produces an uncomfortable vacancy, and brings to a very sudden termination circumstances that require explanation.

My father had not much confidence in detecting the character of a man by the expression of his face, although I have heard that Colonel Burr introduced Talleyrand to him, and finding he did not hear the name distinctly, called upon Stuart again and in

quired what he thought of that gentleman. Stuart answered, "Excuse me, Colonel, but God does not write a legible hand if he is not a bad man." Colonel Burr is said to have spoken of the circumstance frequently, but I cannot answer for this anecdote. I know whenever my father was called upon to give his opinion upon the subject, he would relate some absurd circumstance to refute the idea. One of his stories was that of a gentleman of finished manners, who came to Boston, and, after having been the best families in the city, borrowed money received with great hospitality by some of to a large amount, and then left the country, forgetting to return it. He also sat to my father, and left the picture on his hands. Some gentlemen, hearing of this, came to see the portrait. My father told them they must look for it, as he could not leave his painting. Among a number of unfinished pictures, they picked one out as the portrait of the swindler. After expatiating on the wonderful science of physiognomy and expressing astonishment that any person with ordinary powers of observation should have been so deceived,-that there was villain written in every line of that face,—one of them wound up by saying: "I do not think I could have been so deceived." My father could contain himself no longer, and burst into a roar of laughter. His visitors were astonished. When he could articulate a word, he said:

"Do you know whom you have been abusing in this way? Why, the Reverend Mr. T, the Unitarian clergyman of C-———, one of the most Christian gentlemen that ever lived."

"Now, Stuart, what in the d-l did you let us make such a confounded mistake for? it wasn't fair."

"Oh," said Stuart, "I only wanted to see to what extent your remarkable knowledge of physiognomy would lead you."

There never was a man more alive to a sense of the ridiculous. He once took it into his head that he must have a cow. I suppose he associated the animal with country life, which was a passion with him. One day, Molly, finding the gate open, strayed away to see something of the world, when a valuable servant, called "Old Dobbin," who had unfortunately a very bad temper, was told to go in pursuit of her. After tramping all day, at length he found the cow, and drove her home into the barn, so violently, that she was compelled to go up the stairs. The next morning, to the

astonishment of my father and everybody else, there was Molly lowing out of the upper window! This was just the kind of thing to divert Stuart. Everybody was brought to see the poor creature. Poor old Dobbin was excessively mortified, and wanted to have some men hired to get her down; but no, there she was kept for weeks, for the diversion of everybody. At length my mother coaxed her husband to have the cow taken out, which was done by moving a load of hay under the window.

Some of the anecdotes of Stuart have been fearfully exaggerated, making him appear most undignified. No one who had ever known his quiet manner would impute such conduct to him. But that he was ironical to excess is too true.

Walking one day with a gentleman in Newport, and coming upon a most deplorable hovel, he quietly observed, "That is the house I was born in," not supposing that the man could believe it. He said this, however, with such a serious countenance, that it was impossible to convince the gentleman afterward that he was born in Narragansett.

I confess he was really boyish in this respect; nothing delighted him more than teasing my mother, whenever he could find an opportunity for doing so. She was a remarkably intelligent and cultivated woman, though a matter-of-fact person, and this sort of quizzing was carried too far. Stuart took the greatest pleasure in teasing her, by telling her the most extraordinary stories, with such a serious countenance that it was impossible to know if it was really the case or not. I would sometimes undertake this kind of quizzing,-whether it was an inheritance or an acquirement I know not, but it would vex my dear mother exceedingly. She would request me to stop it, and say, "I have been annoyed enough with your father's nonsense in this way; besides, it is very bad taste." As I worshiped my mother, I tried to break myself of the habit.

That my father, from indulging in such nonsense, should be accused of falsehood, his character injured, and his veracity questioned, was cruel and senseless.

My mother, being very much dissatisfied with the portraits painted of Stuart, implored him to sit to Miss Goodrich, the miniature artist; and, as she was a great favorite of his, she would frequently invite her to the house, hoping he could be induced to sit to her. One afternoon he said, " Goode, I intend to let you paint me." She seemed to


be quite overcome at the idea, as she worshiped his genius. She then came prepared, when he gave her every advantage, considering how much he disliked what he called "having his effigy made."* This miniature is now in the possession of the Goodrich family, in Worcester, Mass. It is the most life-like of anything ever painted of him in this country, although the expression is a little exaggerated. The portrait of him at the Atheneum in Boston was considered a positive caricature by his family and his intimate friends; his niece did not recognize it. His face, far from handsome at that period, was full of energy and power. This portrait, so stupid to the last degree, I should think would put to flight the theory of physiognomy, that the features are an indication of the character.

It is curious that he should have transmitted to posterity the portraits of the distinguished men of his day, giving each great man his peculiar attributes, and that his own portrait should pass down to posterity utterly devoid of intellectual expression-in fact, the representation of a driveler.

Dr. Gibbes, of South Carolina, one of his great admirers, purchased a copy of this picture for his gallery, and thought he would give his friend Mr. Frazier a great surprise; but, to his astonishment, the gentleman in question could not imagine for whom it could be intended, and when informed, declared he never should have dreamt of such a thing, although he said he knew Stuart well. The doctor was very much disappointed, and brought the picture to me at Newport, to know if I could do anything with it. I said, "Yes; with your permission, I will put it in the fire." He laughingly consented, and I did so with intense satisfaction. I then painted one for him from memory, but unfortunately he died before I could send it to him.

A Mr. Brower came from New York to request Stuart to have a plaster cast for a bust, as he was very anxious to make a collection of the remarkable persons of the time. My father was very desirous of haying a taste for sculpture introduced, and thinking this was some approach to it, he consented. This head was a cast made over his face, and was a most living and beautiful thing. He wrote a note, which was published, saying he had "consented, to induce more important men to do the same."

*The person who painted this portrait has since become a fine artist.

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