University of Virginia Library

A thing may sometimes be great from the force of circumstances,
when intrinsically considered, without the
aid of those circumstances, it might not attract unusual
attention. It was so in some degree with the first letter
of Mr. Downing. Here were the elected representatives
of a sovereign State, without law or order, jangling
and quarrelling for weeks without being able to
choose their own presiding officers, and the whole people
were looking on, and holding up their hands in awful
consternation, expecting to be left without a government,
and to be overwhelmed by the turbulent waves
of anarchy and confusion.

At this critical moment the first letter of Mr. Downing
fell upon the Legislature “like a thousand of
brick.” It electrified the people of Portland and the

whole State, as if a flash of lightning had burst upon
them out of a clear sky; it waked up old Boston and
set it in a roar; even the fighting politicians in the Legislature
did not fight with half the grit afterwards, for
whenever they attempted to throw each other “sky-high,”
they would think of the “two-boys see-sawing
on a rail,” and laugh outright in each other's faces.

In short, the Downing literature was planted: the
soil was adapted to the seed, and in the nature of things
it was bound to grow. And it did grow and flourish “like
a green bay horse.” Mr. Downing had to stay in
Portland and write letters all winter; and then he had
to stay and write letters all summer. His popularity
went steadily up. He was nominated in Downingville
for Governor of the State, and at the fall election received
every vote in his native town. Having devoted
his valuable services to his own State for something
more than a year, his patriotism soared higher, and
took a wider range. In May, 1831, having heard of
the disastrous explosion and resignation of President
Jackson's first Cabinet, with the most heroic devotion
to the public interests, Mr. Downing repaired to Washington,
with a view of relieving the embarrassments of
the President by offering to fill one of the vacant Secretaryships.

Unluckily, however, for the public welfare, before he
reached Washington, as he “had to foot it” most of the
way, the places were filled by less efficient and less
worthy men. Nothing daunted, but inspired by a growing
patriotism, Mr. Downing remained at head quarters,
determined that the country should have his services,
whenever they were wanted. He became acquainted
with “the Gineral,” and that sagacious and

keen-sighted warrior and statesman soon penetrated
and appreciated the high qualities of Mr. Downing.
About this time a circumstance occurred which pinned
him to the Gineral's heart forever.

A new quarrel had broken out among the Cabinet
officers. “A lady was in the case,” and the quarrel
was bitter. Major Eaton challenged Mr. Ingham, Secretary
of the Treasury, to settle the matter in a duel;
but the latter gentleman declined the honor. Then
Major Eaton and a gang of other gentlemen went to
Mr. Ingham's house in the evening, and demanded
that he should come out. This he declined also. The
gang of gentlemen were then preparing to burst open
the door and drag him out. At this crisis Mr. Downing
mounted Mr. Ingham's door-steps, threw off his hat
and coat, rolled up his sleeves, struck his fists together,
and told them “to come on, one to time, or all in a
bunch, he didn't care which; but before they should
break open the door of a peaceable man who was staying
in his house as quiet as a lamb, with his wife and
children, they should climb over his dead body.” This
settled the hash; for, according to the history of the
affair given by Mr. Downing at the time, in a letter to
the Portland Courier, “Major Eaton and the whole
gang of gentlemen with him turned right about and
marched away as still as a pack of whipped puppies.”

From this time “the Gineral” hugged Mr. Downing
to his bosom and made him his right hand man ever
afterwards.

In October, 1831, a dark cloud, full of thunder and
war appeared “away down east,” hanging over the
“disputed territory” in the State of Maine, and President
Jackson gave Mr. Downing a Captain's commission

in the Army, with the instructions to raise a company
of volunteers in Downingville, and go down to the
disputed territory, flog the British and make fair weather.
Capt. Downing performed the expedition, and settled
the business to the satisfaction of all parties.

Capt. Downing could now receive any thing from
the President which he chose to ask, for himself and
friends. He was, however, very modest and moderate
in his reception of favors, and only allowed the President
to appoint that staunch patriot, “uncle Joshua
Downing” to the honorable position of Post Master of
Downingville; a position which, much to the credit of
succeeding administrations, he holds to this day.

In December, 1832, the horid monster of Nullificatien
raised its head in South Carolina, and threatened
to bite off the head of the government. President Jackson,
who was always equal to every emergency, at
once gave Captain Downing a Major's commission, and
told him to take care of South Carolina, and drive Nullification
into the Gulf of Mexico. No man understood
the nature of Nullification, or how to cure it, better
than Major Downing, as was abundantly proved in
his celebrated account of carrying a raft of logs over
Sebago pond.

It appears, on receiving a major's commission, that
Mr. Downing's military ambition was satisfied; for
when the President afterwards desired him to take the
appointment of colonel in the army, he declined, saying,
he much preferred the title of Major. However,
it mattered little what his nominal rank might be, he
was the master-spirit that sustained the administration
of “the Gineral” in those trying times, and carried
him safely through the storm of Nullification, the
fight with the bank monster, and many other difficulties.

But we find this subject growing on our hands, and
the father we go the more prolific it becomes. We did
not sit down to write a biography of Major Downing—
we trust that important work will be committed to abler
and better hands—our object was mainly to throw a
little light on the origin and progress of Downing literature,
and to correct certain errors which tradition had
fallen into, and which were in danger of being perpetuated
on the page of history. Suffice it to say here,
that on receiving his commission and the orders from
the President to “take care of South Carolina,” Major
Downing ordered his faithful cousin Sargeant Joel
Downing, to repair immediately to Washington with
his invincible Downingville company.

Having drawn up his Downingville forces at Washington,
the major stood ready at a moment's warning to
pounce upon S. Carolina the first instant that Nullification
attempted to raise its head against the government;
and he used to mount upon the Capitol every day and
listen to see if he could hear the guns cracking in
South Carolina, for he said the President told him not
to strike a single blow till South Carolina struck first.

Luckily, however, Mr. Clay's Tariff Bill put Nullification
to sleep, and the Major never had to come to
the scratch with the South Carolina monster. The
next great movement of the Major was to accompany
“the Gineral” on his famous tour “down east.” In
his letter to Cousin Ephraim, March 10, 1833, he informs
him that a project of that kind was “a brewin”
and says “the President talks of taking a journey down
east this summer, and he wants me to go with him, because
I'm acquainted there, and can show him all
about it. He has a great desire to go as far as Downingville
and get acquainted with Uncle Joshua, who

has always stuck by him in all weathers through thick
and thin. The President thinks that Uncle Joshua,
is one of the republican pillars of New England, and
and says he shall always have the post office of Downingville
as long as he lives, and his children after
him.”

April 20th, the Major writes to his old friend of the
Portland Courier that the thing is all cut and dried, and
he and the Gineral and the two cabinets are going to
make a grand tour down east. There was one difficulty
in the way which he describes as follows:

“There is some trouble among us here a little, to know
how we shall get along among the federalists when we
come that way. They say the federalists in Massachusetts
want to keep the President all to themselves
when he comes there. But Mr. Van Buren says that'll
never do; he must stick to the democratic party; he
may shake hands with a federalist once in awhile if the
democrats don't see him, but whenever there is any
democrats round, he musn't look at a federalist. Mr.
McLane and Mr. Livingston advise him t'other way.
They tell him he'd better treat the federalists pretty
civil, and shake hands with Mr. Webster as quick as
he would with Uncle Joshua Downing. And when
they give this advice Mr. Lewis and Mr. Kendall hop
right up as mad as march hares, and tell him if he
shakes hands with a single federalist while he is gone,
the democratic party will be ruined. And then the
President turns round to me, and asks me what he had
better do. And I tell him that I guess he better go
straight ahead, and keep a stiff upper lip, and shake
hands with whoever he's a mind to.”

Early in June the the grand party got under way,
and on the 10th the Major writes to his Uncle Joshua

from Philadelphia, and tells him “we are coming on
full chisel.” After describing the journey as far as
Philadelphia, the Major proceeds as follows:

“They took us up into a great hall this morning as big
as a meeting-house, and then the folks began to pour in
by thousands to shake hands with the President; federalists
and all, it made no difference. There was such
a stream of em coming in that the hall was full in a
few minutes, and it was so jammed up round the door
that they couldn't get out again if they was to die.
So they had to knock out some of the windows and go
out t'other way.”

The President shook hands with all his might an
hour or two, till he got so tired he couldn't hardly
stand it. I took hold and shook for him once in awhile,
to help him along; but at last he got so tired he had to
lay down on a soft bench covered with cloth, and shake
as well as he could, and when he couldn't shake, he'd
nod to em as they come along. And at last he got so
beat out, he couldn't only wrinkle his forehead and wink.
Then I kind of stood behind him and reached my arm
round under his, and shook for him for about a half an
hour as tight as I could spring. Then we concluded
it was best to adjourn for to-day. And I've made
out to get away up into the garret in the tavern long
enough to write this letter. We shall be off to-morrow
or next day for York, and if I can possibly get
breathing time enough there, I shall write to you
again.”

On the 13th of June, 1833, the party arrived in New
York, and “got a ducking,” by the breaking down of
the bridge at Castle Garden. The Major here wrote again
to his Uncle Joshua, giving a full account of the sad

catastrophe, in which nobody was killed and nobody
hurt, except about fifty things they called “dandies,”
which looked so after they got wet he couldn't tell
whether they were dead or alive; so they “pulled em
out and laid em up on the grass to dry and left em.”

And here we come to an important point, an era in
the Downing literature which requires special notice.
It was now nearly three years and a half that Major
Downing had been serving and enlightening his
countrymen. In all that time his fame had steadily
increased. His letters were copied into every paper
all over the land, and his name was in every body's
mouth. Next to General Jackson he was decidedly the
most popular man in the United States. Perhaps nothing
is more calculated to excite a feeling of envy,
than great popularity. The popular man is like the
child who holds a nice stick of candy in his hand; all
the children around are on tiptoe to get a nibble. It is
not strange therefore, that many in different parts of
the country endeavored to get a taste of Major Downing's
popularity by attempting to imitate his writings.

But one individual at this time made a bold and systematic
rush at the Major, and attempted to strip his
well-earned laurels from his brow and entwine them
round his own head. This was a respectable merchant,
a heavy iron dealer, in Broad street, New York.
Violently seized with the mania a potu of literature,
he sat down and wrote a Downing letter, giving an account
of the arrival of the Presidential party in New
York, signed it with the Major's name, and published it
in the old Daily Advertiser.

As the letter of the genuine Major giving an account
of the same affair, was sent to his Uncle Joshua through

the Portland Courier, it took several days for it to make
the journey down east and back again. In the mean
time the letter of the iron dealer made its appearance
with Major Downing's signature, and was seized upon
by the greedy multitude and passed about as the true
coin. The thousands and tens of thousands who had
been hurrahing for Major Downing for weeks and
months, and some of them for years, of course raised
their voices again as loud as ever.

“God bless me!” said the Broad street merchant;
“why, I've electrified the world! I had no idea I was
such a great writer before. I must go into this business
deep; who cares for trade when he can get popularity
and literary fame?”

Henceforth the Broad street merchant became a man
of letters, and the iron business was turned over to the
other members of the firm. For months afterwards he
earnestly applied himself to writing Downing letters,
and as he could always get them to the New York market
before the letters of the true Major, who was riding about
with the “Gineral,” and sending his epistles through
the Portland Courier, could arrive here, the merchant
thought the run of the trade was all in his favor. And
whenever the clouds in all parts of the country pealed
forth the name of Major Downing, “God bless me!”
said the merchant, “don't you hear my thunder!”

But we are dilating too much for the object we proposed
to ourselves on this occasion, and must draw to a
close. Americus Vespucius filched the name of
America, but Columbus discovered the country. It is the
province of history to set these matters right. In November,
1833, an enterprising and extensive publishing
house in Boston, Messrs Lilly, Waite, Colman, and

Holden, published a volume of the Major's letters with
a brief sketch of his life, which had a very rapid and
wide sale. This afforded another opportunity for the
Broad street merchant to gather fresh laurels, and he
accordingly had his letters collected and published in
a volume in New York.

These circumstances at the time were much commented
upon by the papers of the day. We shall here
quote a couple of paragraphs from the many that appeared,
as applicable to our purpose. The following
was the language of Major Noah's Evening Star.

Major Jack Downing turned author.—The letters which
have just been published in a neat duodecimo volume by Lilly,
Waite, & Co., Boston, and which have obtained a circulation
and celebrity more extended perhaps than any production that
ever issued from the American Press, are written with all the
quaint simplicity of the style of Fielding, and abound in passages
of infinite drollery and exquisite humor. It would appear
that the Major since quitting the peaceful abode of the
little village of Downingville and the company of Aunt
Nabby and Uncle Joshua, has become quite dazzled with the
splendor of our imperial court of Washington, and the intimacy
with the “Gin'ral” and other grandees of the “Kitchin
Kabinet.” He now disdains any longer to grope in the obscure
columns of a newspaper and comes forth accoutered in
all the aristocratic armory of authorship, and we have no
doubt from the imposing and formidable attitude in which he
now appears, and the universal popularity of his writings, that
he will achieve new triumphs in the reputation he has already
acquired.

About the same time, the National Gazette at Philadelphia,
then conducted by the distinguished Robert
Walsh, bore the following high testimony.

[From Walsh's National Gazette.]

It has been the fate of all successful authors to have counterfeits,
who deal with their originals as Hamlet says that some
players imitate nature. The Rabelais, the Swifts, the Voltaires,
suffered in their day by the productions of interlopers
of the sort. Mere bunglers attempted to personate them,
and confounded the less discriminating or critical part of the

reading public. Major Jack Downing has paid in like manner
the penalty of genius and popularity; and he has complained
of the hardship and injustice in a characteristic vein.
We humbly advise him to write over the whole story of President
Jackson's late expedition. It might confidently be predicted
that a full narrative from his pen, duly authenticated,
would obtain as much vogue in these United States, as did
Peter Plymley's Letters in Great Britain.”

So great was the popularity of Major Downing during
the “Gineral's” administration, that the artists all
over the country were in a “terrible taking” to get a
glimpse of him, so that they might make out some kind
of a likeness. One of the most successful efforts of the
artists for this purpose was described in the following
communication published in the New York Journal of
Commerce.

[For the Journal of Commerce.]

While in Boston, I visited the Athenæum Gallery of paintings,
and there I saw the portrait of the immortal Jack Downing,
that wonderful traveller and commentator on the sayings
and doings of our great men, the President's right-hand man,
and the individual on whom it is said the learned fraternity at
Cambridge conferred the title of A. S. S. which Jack says,
being interpreted, means “Amazin Smart Skoller.” Perhaps
your readers might be interested in a brief description
of the person of this singular genius, as represented by the
portrait. It is said to be a phrenological head, of which the
critics in Boston and elsewhere speak very highly. It is the
production of Mr. Harris, a young artist in Portland, Me.
Jack is about forty years old, thick set and stoutly built,—
his features bold and strong,—complexion florid and healthy,—
nose a little aquiline,—yellow hair, with a cow-lick on the top
of the head. But his expression is inimitable. The whole
face, in the words of the Boston Globe, “beams with a characteristic
expression and sly humor of a shrewd, thriving,
and full blooded yankee. It is a sort of humanized Silenus,
with a breadth and vividness of sensual roguery in the expression
of the mouth, which Rubens would have turned to
good account in one of his Bachanalian groups.”

Jack Downing's letters first appeared in the Portland Daily
Courier, about three years since, when he introduced himself
as an honest farmer from Downingville, on a visit to Portland

for the purpose of selling a load of bean-poles; but happening
in at the Legislature then in session, he became interested—
forgot his bean poles, commenced commenting on their proceedings,
(corresponding with “Uncle Joshua,” “Cousin
Ephraim,” “Aunt Nabb,” and others,) and since that time
has continued his letters, which have been as extensively
copied, perhaps, as any correspondence ever known.—The
London papers are now republishing them.

The portrait in the gallery represents him in the attitude of
inditing one of his epistles,—with a copy of the Daily
Courier lying beside him, and a full length engraving of “the
President” before him. Since the appearance of the portrait
in the gallery, there have been a number of other portraits
and engravings got up purporting to be Major Downing, but
these, I believe, are all a hoax.

One of the most prominent shoots from the root of the
Downing literature of the country, aside from the main
tree, sprung up under the name of “Sam Slick.” A
year or two after Major Downing's letters began to appear
in the Portland Courier, the public attention was
attracted by a clever little volume entitled “Sam
Slick, the clockmaker,” which afterwards proved to
be from the pen of Judge Halliburton, of Novia Scotia.
There was no plagiarism about this little volume; it
had a distinct character and a distinct name; but its
general features, air and manner, showed it to be a legitimate
offspring of Downingism. Had Major Downing
never written, the public never would have heard of
Sam Slick. This reference is not intended as the least
disparagement of Judge Halliburton, who acquired no
small fame by his Clockmaker, and a wider reputation
by the subsequent observations of Sam Slick in England.

Our only object is to do a simple act of justice to our
author, Major Downing, and to disabuse the public
mind of certain errors and prejudices, by tracing out
the origin and progress of Downing literature. We

might say much more, and we do not see how our duties
could have permitted us to say less. Were we to follow
the Major through his subsequent career to the close of
the “Gineral's” administration, and his connection
with the press, the Downing Gazette in Portland, the
Bunker Hill in New York, and other periodicals, we
should fill a volume.

But our task is done. We drop the pen with entire
confidence that truth is great and will prevail. In ages
to come, and in all time, amid all the literary revolutions
of the world, when critics shall be confounded
and the nations delighted by the bursting forth of fresh
streams of Downing literature, even then shall remote
posterity look far back upon the page of history, beaming
with the steady light of truth, and with grateful
hearts and laughing eyes exclaim, “the great author
and founder of the Downing school of literature was
Major Jack Downing, of Downingville, away down east
in the State of Maine.”