COPIES of a printed invitation, each one personally addressed and bearing the signature of Frank M. Etting, entered the mails in the fall of 1875, destined for an extensive yet somehow “strictly limited” roster of “American historians, biographers and literati.” The writers receiving this missive numbered around 200 by Etting’s count. Some of them were nationally famous, but the majority were unknown to most of the reading public.1
With this communication Etting aimed to build, in his words, “a literary cenotaph,” an archive of biographical sketches of those who’d had a hand in the founding of the republic. He asked recipients to write profiles of these individuals and bring them to Philadelphia on the 2nd of July 1876, the very place and one hundred years to the day since the Second Continental Congress approved a resolution of American independence, “that forerunner that paved the way for the passage of the more celebrated act” two days later.2
Each author was assigned a subject to write on, or asked “in case of a preference for another subject to communicate the fact.” Those who couldn’t be present on the 2nd might send their sketches, but in any case they “should not exceed two pages of foolscap….” The brief memoirs would be deposited in a “national museum” housed in the venerable building where, a century before, representatives of the colonies debated and decided for independence.
Over its more than fifty years as property of the city of Philadelphia, the chamber where that debate was decided, inside the former Pennsylvania State House (“what we are fond of calling our Temple of Liberty,” said Etting), had become a cluttered storeroom of paintings, prints and sometimes dubious artifacts:
Occasionally a public-spirited citizen would be moved to present to the city a Portrait, a Photograph, a Bible, a casting, or a relic,–real or imaginary,–and it was at once stored in this room. The latter became a general receptacle for framed resolutions of Councils, the abortive contribution to the Washington National Monument,–in fact it served as a living, ever ready, response to the often embarrassing question in Councils, “What shall we do with it?”3
The grand design of Colonel Frank Etting, head of a municipal committee for the restoration of Independence Hall, had as its centerpiece the return of the chamber to its appearance in 1776, through removal of the mostly irrelevant objects and recovery of as many “original” furnishings as possible. The July 1876 gathering of writers and their short biographies would consecrate the newly restored room, as a place of quiet veneration for the founders and what they had done.
William A. Whitehead of Newark received Etting’s circular, as did a dozen other New Jersey luminaries. The subject of Whitehead’s sketch–whether Etting’s choice or his own is not recorded–was one of the five signers of the Declaration of Independence from his state: Richard Stockton of Princeton.4 While as conversant as any contemporary with the evidence for New Jersey’s Revolutionary era, the 66-year-old Whitehead was constrained by Etting’s page limit and the demands of other work to pass over many details of Stockton’s life. He drew unapologetically from prior treatments, right down to the lines from Shakespeare that an earlier biographer had used to sum up Stockton’s “salient characteristics”:
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one,
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken and persuading,
Lofty and stern to them that loved him not,
But to those who sought him, sweet as Summer.5
Further discoveries and new scholarship have since rendered Whitehead’s sketch of Stockton largely obsolete, but it remains a compelling artifact of Whitehead’s life and of the circumstances in which it was produced.6
Pedigree, schooling and talent marked Richard Stockton for a radiant future. Born in 1730 to a prosperous Princeton family that, as Whitehead wrote, was “identified with that locality for half a century,” Stockton was one of six graduates from the inaugural class of the College of New Jersey, “taking the first honors at the first Annual Commencement of that institution, in 1748; thus manifesting his eminent mental abilities at the early age of eighteen.”7
The young Stockton continued his studies in Newark under David Ogden, “one of the most prominent lawyers in the Province,” and himself mentored a number of distinguished lawyers and future statesmen, William Paterson and Elias Boudinot among them.
Around 1757, he was married to Annis Boudinot, the accomplished sister of Elias, and they moved into the house of Stockton’s late father. The poetically inclined Annis Stockton would give this house the name of Morven, which it bore ever after.
To a burgeoning law practice Richard added service as a trustee of the College, which had since removed from Newark to Princeton. He raised funds for the school, handled its accounts, and penned and delivered addresses on its behalf to governors passing through Princeton from one side of the province to the other, or staying to preside over commencements.8
Provincial politics, always turbulent, were soon to enter a new and uncertain era, as irritation with Parliament’s colonial policies coalesced into a distinctly American patriotism. Stockton privately urged the speaker of the provincial assembly to send a delegation to the Stamp Act Congress in New York. “I am humbly of opinion that the Representatives of the people ought not to be silent,” he wrote. “They ought to complain constitutionally–they should complain to the King; not to the Parliament whose authority they do not and ought not to acknowledge.”9
On a 1766 trip to England for private business, Stockton had entrée to “the most eminent and refined circles,” and the recent repeal of the Stamp Act prompted an address of thanks to George III on the College’s behalf, which Stockton delivered in person. London society welcomed the young New Jerseyan, but he was candid and steadfast about the rights of the American colonies, which he knew could not stay united to the Crown on the same terms as before.
Stockton’s sojourn at the seat of empire left him unaffected by the ways and wiles of the powerful, or of those longing to be so. He wrote home to Annis at Morven:
I am happy that I have had nothing to ask of government, and, therefore, dare speak my sentiments without cringing. Wherever I can serve my native country, I leave no occasion untried. Dear America–thou sweet retreat from greatness and corruption! in thee I choose to live and die.10
Perhaps Stockton’s most crucial contribution to the American cause was an unwitting one. While abroad, he made the long journey north to Scotland, carrying a plea from the trustees of the College to minister John Witherspoon to accept the offer of its presidency. The influential Scots divine confessed to having little knowledge of New Jersey or the College, but Stockton managed to obtain his agreement. (It took the exertions of another emissary, the physician–and future son-in-law to Stockton–Benjamin Rush, to bring Witherspoon’s wife around to the idea.) With Witherspoon at its head, the Princeton college became known as a “nursery of rebellion,” and in Philadelphia its president would cast a New Jersey vote for independence by Stockton’s side.11
Their historic votes lay some years in the future when Governor William Franklin first proposed that Stockton fill a vacancy on his Council, calling him “a Gentleman of the Law, eminent in his Profession, of unblemished Character, and possessed of a good Estate in the Province.” Stockton’s place of residence, midway between the colony’s two capitals, further recommended him, for it would be as easy to travel to legislative sessions in Burlington as to Perth Amboy.12
Stockton’s expertise in the law was highly prized, and he was active in colonial affairs for as long as royal government existed, but the written record gives scant information as to his actual influence.13 During his first year on the Council, discontent with the legal profession degenerated into riots, and while contemporary sources are silent on Stockton’s part in quelling these disturbances, he was eulogized after his death as the one chiefly responsible for restoring order.14
Although the severing of ties to the mother country would soon divide them, an appointment to the Supreme Court of the province united Stockton with his former preceptor David Ogden in 1774. That December, Stockton wrote urgently to London of the need to stem the rising tide of discord. If no resolution was reached, “we shall be involved in a civil war the most obstinate awful and tremendous that perhaps ever occurred since the Creation of the world.” He thought that an American parliament, independent of the one in England yet still loyal to the Crown, might avert such horrors.15 But the British ministry moved too slowly, and events too quickly, for his proposition to be tested.
On 22 June 1776, the provincial congress in Burlington chose Stockton and Witherspoon of Princeton, Abraham Clark of Elizabethtown, John Hart of Hopewell and Francis Hopkinson of Bordentown as delegates to Philadelphia. Their instructions are found hurriedly entered in the original minute book:
The Congress empower & direct you in Name of this Colony to Join with The Delagates of the Other Colonies in Continental Congress in the Most Vigorous Measures for Supporting the Just rights and Liberties of America, and if you shall Judge it Necessary or Expedient for this purpose We Impower you to Join with them In declaring the United Colonies independent of Great Brittain entring into a Confedercy for Union and Common Defence making Treaties with foreign Nations for Commerce And Assistance and to Take such Other Measures as may Appear to them and you Necessary For these great Ends promising to support them with the whole force of this Province….16
The late arrival of Stockton, Witherspoon and other delegates delayed the final vote on independence until 2 July, so that the arguments for and against could be recapitulated for their benefit. Witherspoon, it was recalled, was impatient to vote on the resolution, while Stockton listened quietly, then delivered a “short but energetic speech” in its favor. The precise day and content of his speech are unknown.17
Congress in the fall of 1776 sent Stockton to inspect Continental forces in the upper Hudson Valley. There, he found most of the soldiers from his home state cheerful, if “barefooted and barelegged.” But it was a mission that proved disastrous for Stockton and his family. Morven lay in the path of Washington’s retreat and the British advance, and after rushing home to move Annis and their children to a semblance of safety in Monmouth County, he was betrayed by local Tories and handed over to British forces. They committed him first to the old Perth Amboy jail, then to the notorious Provost prison in New York City. It was believed that his “ignominious treatment” in the former place, combined with “extreme cold weather and subsequent sufferings in New York,” left his health permanently impaired.18
Stockton languished in the Provost for close to a month until he accepted an amnesty, on condition that he vow allegiance to the king and give no further aid to the rebellion. At his release, some on the American side felt he’d betrayed his and his fellow signers’ pledge of “our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.” While Stockton abjured the king again the following year, this was no doubt one of the “afflicting dispensations” only alluded to in Whitehead’s brief sketch.19 Stockton’s damaged health, the sacking of Morven and other wartime losses “rendered the remainder of his life a period of trial,” which a painful and disfiguring cancer brought to an end on the last day of February, 1781.20
Annis Boudinot Stockton kept her husband’s memory alive through her verse. Helping to repair whatever damage had been done to his reputation, she may have secured his place as a patriot of the Revolution. Although Whitehead made no use of her compositions in his sketch, what Annis called “the nameless ties of sympathy” between herself and Richard seem to approximate those elements of his character that Whitehead found more convenient to emphasize: his learning, his cultured hospitality, his sense of justice and submission to the will of God.21
As the 2nd of July fell on a Sunday in 1876, the raising of Frank Etting’s “literary cenotaph” was moved up to Saturday the 1st. With Philadelphia already its sweltering self, those in attendance were assuredly relieved to discover that the biographical sketches, about 175 of them and all but 50 presented in person, would be deposited but not read.22 An exception to that policy might have been welcomed, however, in the case of the life of Francis Lightfoot Lee. A scarcely remembered delegate from Virginia, his biography was assigned to and, it seems, personally delivered by none other than Mark Twain.23
Frank Etting had chosen well. Francis Lee’s “life-work,” the author of Tom Sawyer began, “was so inconspicuous, that his name would now be wholly forgotten, but for one thing–he signed the Declaration of Independence.” From Twain, a few jabs at politicians of the day were inevitable. Although his subject “did no brilliant things, he made no brilliant speeches,” yet Lee “was a good citizen, a citizen of the best and highest type…. Let us gravely try to conceive how isolated, how companionless, how lonesome, such a public servant as this would be in Washington to-day.”24
Having finished his sketch of Richard Stockton and dated it June 1876, Whitehead arranged to arrive in Philadelphia early in the morning of the 1st of July. This was not to be the end of his Centennial obligations. He’d been with Frank Etting at a function in the city in early June, but the two had barely spoken. Etting subsequently learned that the best-known and best-selling American historian of the nineteenth century, George Bancroft, would be unable to come to Philadelphia to preside over the ceremonies as planned. On the 22nd, Etting dashed off an appeal whose contents may be inferred from Whitehead’s answer, and from the subsequent course of events.25
To Etting’s request that Whitehead take Bancroft’s place at Independence Hall, Whitehead consented in part. He politely declined, however, to be placed in “Hancock’s chair,” the seat where John Hancock of Massachusetts was thought to have presided over Congress, and to have endorsed the Declaration of 4 July with the celebrated flourish of his pen. That chair, Whitehead insisted, “should be filled, undoubtedly, by some one from Hancocks own state,” or failing that, “by some gentleman more extensively known than I am….”26 Etting apparently then approached Charles Francis Adams, the son and grandson of presidents, a scholar of their lives and a statesman in his own right, but Adams had made other commitments. It’s unknown who, if anyone, sat in the fabled chair.27
William A. Whitehead was only one of two New Jersey writers who handed in their sketches in person. Though little known outside the historical community, he no doubt acquitted himself admirably, calling the roll of authors, accepting their memoirs, and setting them down on a table that Etting believed had graced the room, along with “Hancock’s chair,” one hundred years before.28 The newly neat and restored “Independence Chamber,” to use the name Etting had bestowed on it, must have awed the audience, and many on the dais as well. But most of the writers and their works were fated to remain silent unless authors later chose to read or publish their sketches. Whitehead did both the following year.29
His formal duties concluded, Whitehead untied a tattered volume he had brought along. It was the manuscript minute book of New Jersey’s provincial congress from a century ago, rescued, he said, some thirty years earlier from “a collection of waste paper.”30 There he pointed out, for any who cared to see it, the directive to Richard Stockton and the others, to join in “the Most Vigorous Measures for Supporting the Just rights and Liberties of America.” These words must, on this occasion, have felt more stirring to him than any he could have written.
Copyright © 2026 Gregory J. Guderian
Last revised 2026.07.26
[1] A fair copy of the invitation in Etting’s hand dated 25 October 1875, the addressee and desired subject left blank, is preserved in The National Museum at Independence Hall Collection, 1873–1951, Mary Johnson Brown Chew Collection, Independence National Historical Park Archives and Library, Box 1/21. The text was printed in The national centennial commemoration. Proceedings on the one hundredth anniversary of the introduction and adoption of the “Resolutions respecting independency.” Held in Philadelphia on the evening of June 7, 1876, at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, and on July 1, 1876, at the Hall of Independence (Philadelphia 1876; hereafter “The national centennial commemoration”) 5; see also “Centennial commemoration,” The New York (N.Y.) herald 1 July 1876 6:1 (hereafter “Centennial commemoration”). One of the invitations, dated 25 November 1875, went to Barberie Woodburn Throckmorton. Printed in The Monmouth inquirer (Freehold, N.J.) 2 December 1875 2:1, it indicates that Etting requested a biographical sketch of John Hart, a New Jersey delegate to the Second Continental Congress. Throckmorton prepared instead a sketch of John DeHart, a delegate to the First Congress of 1775. Throckmorton and William A. Whitehead were the only New Jersey addressees to attend the event in person.
[2] “Centennial commemoration”; Frank M. Etting, An historical account of the old State House of Pennsylvania now known as the Hall of Independence (hereafter “Etting, An historical account”) (Philadelphia 18912) 201. The assembly was sometimes referred to as a “Congress of Authors,” as for example by The Philadelphia (Pa.) inquirer 3 July 1876 2:1; by The press (Philadelphia, Pa.) 3 July 1876 1:2, which printed a roll of 156 authors and their memoirs; in “Centennial commemoration”; and in The national centennial commemoration 42, 47, 87.
[3] Etting, An historical account (Boston 18761, Philadelphia 18912) 165, 189.
[4] A copy in Whitehead’s hand, entitled “Richard Stockton of New Jersey,” is found in the Frank M. Etting collection, 1517–1917 (Collection 193), Historical Society of Pennsylvania (hereafter “Frank M. Etting collection, HSP”), Box 9/38. On an introductory page, Whitehead placed the text of the New Jersey Provincial Congress resolution of 22 June 1776, discussed below, authorizing a vote for independence. The printing of his Stockton biography used the same arrangement: W. A. Whitehead, “Sketch of the life of Richard Stockton, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence from New Jersey. Read before the New Jersey Historical Society, January 18th, 1877,” Proceedings of the New Jersey Historical Society, ser. 2, 4:4 (1876, hereafter “Whitehead, ‘Sketch’”) 194-198.
[5] Whitehead, “Sketch” 197. These verses come from the eulogy of Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, in Act 4 of Henry VIII. On another occasion, Whitehead found cause in the lines immediately preceding to disagree with some of Shakespeare’s editors: see my previous post 084–Thy book doth live. The verses quoted here were used in the longer sketch of Richard Stockton in John Sanderson, comp. Biography of the signers to the Declaration of Independence 3 (Philadelphia 1823, hereafter “Sanderson, Biography”; one of numerous printings) 108.
[6] An outline of Stockton’s life concluded the sermon preached at his funeral: see Samuel S. Smith, A funeral sermon on the death of the Hon. Richard Stockton, Esq. Princeton, March 2, 1781 (Trenton 1781; hereafter “Smith, A funeral sermon”) 37-43. In the tenth volume of New Jersey Archives, a series that Whitehead initiated but of which he lived to see only the first seven volumes through the press, a long footnote provides an extended account of Stockton’s life and career: Frederick W. Ricord and Wm. Nelson, edd., Documents relating to the colonial history of the State of New Jersey. 10. Administration of Governor William Franklin (Archives of the State of New Jersey, ser. 1, 10. Newark 1886. Hereafter “NJA ser. 1, 10”) 427-430. See also James McLachlan, Princetonians 1748–1768 (Princeton 1976) 7-11, and (most usefully) Alfred Hoyt Bill, A house called Morven. Its role in American history, 1701–1954 (Princeton 1954; rev. edn. 1978) 18-51.
[7] Whitehead, “Sketch” 195.
[8] William Nelson, ed. Documents relating to the colonial history of the State of New Jersey. 20. Extracts from American newspapers, relating to New Jersey, 4. 1756–1761 (Archives of the State of New Jersey, ser. 1, 20. Paterson 1898) 230-232, 487-488; id., ed. Documents relating to the colonial history of the State of New Jersey. 24. Extracts from American newspapers, relating to New Jersey, 5. 1762–1765 (Archives of the State of New Jersey, ser. 1, 24. Paterson 1902) 92-93, 249-250.
[9] Richard Stockton, Princeton 13 September 1765, to Robert Ogden, Manuscript Group 4, Revolutionary Era Manuscript Collection, 1765–1790, New Jersey Historical Society, no. 49; printed in Proceedings of the New Jersey Historical Society [ser. 1] 2:4 (1847) 149-150.
[10] Richard Stockton to Annis Boudinot Stockton, quoted in Elizabeth F. Ellet, The women of the American Revolution (3 vols. New York 1850) 3:19.
[11] For Stockton’s mission to secure Witherspoon’s acceptance of the presidency, see Varnum Lansing Collins, President Witherspoon. A biography (2 vols. Princeton 1925. Hereafter “Collins, President Witherspoon”) 1:72-98. For the college’s reputation among the British as a “nursery of rebellion,” see president Samuel S. Smith’s address to Congress, dated 26 June 1783, in Varnum Lansing Collins, The Continental Congress at Princeton (Princeton 1908) 45-46.
[12] William Franklin, Burlington 28 February 1764, to the Lords of Trade, in Frederick W. Ricord and Wm. Nelson, edd. Documents relating to the colonial history of the State of New Jersey. 9. Administrations of President John Reading, Lieutenant-Governor Thomas Pownall, Governor Francis Bernard, Governor Thomas Boone, Governor Josiah Hardy, and part of the administration of Governor William Franklin. 1757–1767 (Archives of the State of New Jersey, ser. 1, 9. Newark 1885) 427-428. Four years later, to have Stockton fill another Council vacancy, the governor alluded to the Princetonian’s acquaintance with the Earl of Hillsborough during his sojourn in England: William Franklin, Burlington 13 August 1768, to the Earl of Hillsborough, in NJA ser. 1, 10:44-45. Stockton’s appointment received royal approbation the same year: NJA ser. 1, 10:59-60. He was sworn in six months later: Frederick W. Ricord, ed. Documents relating to the colonial history of the State of New Jersey. 18. Journal of the Governor and Council, 6. 1769–1775 (Archives of the State of New Jersey, ser. 1, 18. Trenton 1893. Hereafter “NJA ser. 1, 18”) 5-6.
[13] Stockton’s value as an advisor on matters of law became apparent when his opinion was sought on the judicial authority of the governor. His report to the Earl of HIllsborough, contending that the New Jersey governor was authorized to hold court and rule in matters of equity, is printed in NJA ser. 1, 10:154-168, and NJA ser. 1, 18:109-120.
[14] “While all men were divided betwixt rash and timid counsels, he only with wisdom and firmness seized the prudent mean, appeased the rioters, punished the ringleaders, and restored the laws to their regular course.” Smith, A funeral sermon 39-40. In the context of these riots, little is known of Stockton’s rulings or sentencings as a presiding judge, but high legal fees had been a pretext for the disturbances, and as a Council member he brought forth a bill “for the more easy recovering Debts”; see NJA ser. 1, 18:97. For Whitehead’s assessment of the turmoil of 1769 and 1770, see my previous post 112–Of bench and bar.
[15] “An expedient for the settlement of the American disputes humbly submitted to the consideration of His Majesty’s ministers by an American,” in The historical magazine, and notes and queries, concerning the antiquities, history and biography of America, ser. 2, 4:5 (November 1868) 228-229.
[16] The minute book is preserved in Manuscript Group 46, New Jersey Legislature Records, 1751–1808, New Jersey Historical Society. Printed versions, with slight variations, include Journal of the votes & proceedings of the Convention of New-Jersey. Begun at Burlington the tenth of June 1776, and thence continued by adjournment at Trenton and New-Brunswick, to the twenty-first of August following. To which is annexed sundry ordinances, and the Constitution (Burlington 1776; repr. Trenton 1831) 25; and Minutes of the Provincial Congress and the Council of Safety of the State of New Jersey (Trenton 1879) 473. In his own version, Whitehead noted changes in the handwriting of the original, and after the words “as may Appear to them and you” a deleted phrase, “upon the Best Information.” Whitehead, “Sketch” 194-195.
[17] “… towards the close of the debate … he made a brief speech in its favor, in full accord with the instructions he and his colleagues had received, to concur with the other representatives in declaring the United Colonies independent of Great Britain.” Whitehead, “Sketch” 196. That no record of the speech seems to exist (“short but energetic,” the much later description in Sanderson, Biography 3:87, has been often repeated) doesn’t prove that no speech was delivered. But we’re cautioned against accepting the statement without contemporary evidence by another, legendary speech on the same occasion (“there is a tide in the affairs of men–a nick of time”), supposed to have been uttered by Stockton’s fellow delegate John Witherspoon. That speech was almost certainly the invention of one or more later authors. See Collins, President Witherspoon 1:217-221.
[18] Richard Stockton, Saratoga 28 October 1776, to Abraham Clark, in Peter Force, American archives: fifth series. Containing a documentary history of the United States of America, from the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776, to the definitive treaty of peace with Great Britain, September 3, 1783 (3 vols. Washington 1848-1853) 2:1274-1275; William A. Whitehead, Contributions to the early history of Perth Amboy and adjoining country, with sketches of men and events in New Jersey during the provincial era (New York 1856) 254; Whitehead, “Sketch” 197. For Whitehead’s rendering of the old jail in Perth Amboy, see my previous post 034–The king’s peace.
[19] Whitehead, “Sketch” 197. Whitehead in an earlier paper wrote: “David Ogden … abandoned the country and returned not until 1790, while Richard Stockton boldly enrolled himself among those who pledged to each other ‘their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor,’ in defence of American liberty.” William A. Whitehead, “Northern boundary line: the circumstances leading to the establishment, in 1769, of the northern boundary line between New Jersey and New York. A paper read before the New Jersey Historical Society, May 19, 1859,” Proceedings of the New Jersey Historical Society [ser. 1] 8:4 (1859) (157-186) 177. His Centennial silence on Stockton’s recantation suggests that Whitehead may have rethought that earlier assessment of the man’s patriotism.
[20] Whitehead, “Sketch” 197. A death notice from the New Jersey gazette of 7 March 1781 is reprinted in Austin Scott, ed. Documents relating to the Revolutionary history of the State of New Jersey. 5. Newspaper extracts relating to New Jersey, October, 1780–July, 1782 (Archives of the State of New Jersey, ser. 2, 5. Trenton 1917) 203-204.
[21] The verses, collected in Carla Mulford, ed. Only for the eye of a friend. The poems of Annis Boudinot Stockton (Charlottesville, Va., and London 1995), include patriotic effusions such as lines “To the Honourable Col. Peter Schuyler” (1758) and “On hearing of the news of the capture of Lord Cornwallis and the British army, by Gen. Washington” (1781), and five separate elegies on Annis’s late husband. Two of her elegies were printed in Smith, A funeral sermon 45-48. Newspapers of the day published other verses (the ode to Peter Schuyler among them, for which see NJA ser. 1, 20:169), but her poetry circulated also in manuscript. The elegy inscribed to Richard J. Stockton on the sixth anniversary of his father’s death, in which “the nameless ties of sympathy” are mentioned, existed only in this form until published by Mulford. See Only for the eye of a friend 98-114, 142-143.
[22] “Centennial commemoration.” The authors were called forward “to deposit, each for himself, as his name was called, the biographical sketch which he had prepared.” There were 126 present, judging by the list in The national centennial commemoration 39-42.
[23] Etting pressed the humorist (successfully, it appears) to overcome his hesitation to attend in person. A letter is recorded from Twain to the mayor of the city, dated one week before the event, agreeing to be present. See Samuel L. Clemens, Hartford (Conn.) 23 February [1876] and 8 June 1876, to Frank M. Etting; Samuel L. Clemens, Elmira (N.Y.) 20(?) June 1876, to J. H. Trumbull; Samuel L. Clemens, Elmira 24 June 1876, to William S. Stokley; all at Mark Twain Project Online.
[24] Twain’s profile may be found in the Frank M. Etting collection, HSP, Box 9/2, and in print: Samuel L. Clemens (“Mark Twain”), “Francis Lightfoot Lee,” The Pennsylvania magazine of history and biography 1:3 (1877) 343-345.
[25] On the evening of 7 June an exhibition of historical portraits, documents and artifacts opened at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts. In his reply, Whitehead made reference to this event: “I enjoyed the evening of the 7th very much, and did not think you were at all deficient in the attentions shown to me. I do not very well see how they could have been increased under the circumstances.” W. A. Whitehead, Newark 24 June 1876, to Frank M. Etting, Simon Gratz autograph collection, 1343–1928, Case 6, Box 20/31, Historical Society of Pennsylvania (hereafter “Whitehead to Etting, 24 June 1876”). A sprained ankle was said to have led Bancroft to cancel his appearance: “Centennial commemoration.”
[26] “I feel greatly honored by the proffered distinction,” Whitehead continued, “but do not think I ought to accept of it, believing as I do, that it would lead to invidious remarks and be considered a mistake on your part.” Whitehead to Etting, 24 June 1876.
[27] “Centennial commemoration.” The wooden armchair, which Etting once called “the corner-stone of the restoration of Independence Hall,” was left “significantly vacant” at the start of the ceremony. Long known as John Hancock’s chair, it was made in 1779 by John Folwell and became the seat of George Washington when he presided over the Constitutional Convention. It is now referred to as the Rising Sun Armchair, for the emblem of a half sun on which Benjamin Franklin famously commented. Etting succeeded in having the piece returned to Independence Hall from the State House in Harrisburg. Etting, An historical account 168; The national centennial commemoration 35; William Macpherson Hornor Jr., Blue book. Philadelphia furniture. William Penn to George Washington with special reference to the Philadelphia–Chippendale school (Philadelphia 1935) 186.
[28] “A grand celebration,” Newark (N.J.) daily advertiser 3 July 1876 2:2-3 (hereafter “A grand celebration”); The national centennial commemoration 39; Etting, An historical account (18912) 200-201, where “the venerable William A. Whitehead” is mistakenly called the president of the New Jersey Historical Society (he was its corresponding secretary).
[29] Proceedings of the New Jersey Historical Society ser. 2, 4:4 (1876) 173, and Whitehead, “Sketch.” B. W. Throckmorton’s memoir of John DeHart (see note 1 above) was read at the same meeting of the Society, and published in the same number of the Proceedings. The Historical Society of Pennsylvania published 40 sketches (including Mark Twain’s) in the first three volumes of its journal; see issues of The Pennsylvania magazine of history and biography 1-3 (1877-1879).
[30] “A grand celebration.”