"In Behalf of Oppressed Humanity" Transcript (Deacon Robert Peckham)

Here's the transcript of my talk for the John Greenleaf Whittier Birthplace about Deacon Robert Peckham, "In Behalf of Oppressed Humanity." Many thanks to Whittier Birthplace director Kaleigh Paré Shaughnessy, and everyone who attended. 

Links are available here: Presentation Slides / Video. The transcript is verbatim (made with Turboscribe); brackets indicate edits for clarity. This is a bit longer than most blog articles - thanks for reading, if you do!

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Some of you may already know about Peckham, some of you might not. It's likelier that you do know a little bit. But even if you do, if you're already familiar with him and his portraiture, this will be a really wonderful opportunity to introduce to you some more aspects of his historical significance, his abolitionist activity, the way that he wrote, the things that he said, which I think are quite uncommon for a painter like this. For folk art painters, early American portraitists, often all we have is a name, maybe a little scrap of information about them. Maybe a few works. Maybe, if we're lucky, more than one that's signed. But for Peckham, there's this wealth of information about him – and portraits; a group of 17 at the Forbush Memorial Library in Westminster [Massachusetts], his hometown, and countless more. We [don’t] know how many he painted. We have an impression, from some documents written about his Congregational Church activity, that there are a great many of them. And it's really exciting to know that there could be even more than we know, so if you've got one at home, email me.

But if you don't, here's a great opportunity to meet some more of them, especially his portrait of John Greenleaf Whittier, the abolitionist and poet. He famously rode in a wagon to visit Whittier [in Haverhill], and also his brother Samuel Howland Peckham, who worked on an anti-slavery committee alongside Whittier, which is probably how he met him. But I'll show you all that in a minute. Here in the meantime is [his painting of] Westminster Village, which hangs at Forbush Memorial Library. You might have seen it if you’ve visited. [NOTE: This is the preview slide; see here.]

(NB: Links shown in the slide images can be found & clicked through the presentation slides themselves. They will also be hyperlinked throughout.)

On to the next slide: the life and times of Peckham. So here's a brief overview from Dale Johnson, the first author to be published in an art history journal on him. There have been others before her, like Ann Howard, notably a historian from Westminster. She had compiled some documents, including thorough documentation of his anti-slavery activities, some of which I've drawn upon for this. But there he is, there's his self portrait in the upper right hand corner there. Nice looking guy. This was found in his home by the previous owners of his home. If you don't want me to name you, I won't, but you guys were great.

So this is him. And then here he is in the lower left hand corner again, and his wife Ruth. Here’s a brief overview [by Dale Johnson]: “The radical abolitionist and temperance advocate Deacon Robert Peckham has been known as a primitive portraitist of above average capability in the hundred years since his death.”

It might sound a little harsh to call him “primitive but above average,” but that's actually pretty common in discussions of early American portraiture, called “primitive,” “naive.” This terminology has settled on “folk art,” because they really weren't primitive or naive. Many of them were quite accomplished people, and they moved in circles with other accomplished people like Peckham and Whittier. In the upper right hand corner, far up there, it's his very first portrait, then there's Whittier, then there's his son Samuel Henry at the bottom, chronologically his last known portrait that I'm aware of.

So, moving back to the info here. Notably, he was a deacon of the First Congregational Church. “In issues of greater morality, temperance and slavery, Peckham was both rigid and vocal. His house became headquarters for anti-slavery lecturers and a station for the Underground Railroad.” Now, both of those have occasionally been treated as speculative in prior published research. However, I'm pleased to say it's absolutely factual.

There are multiple accounts of a particular woman and her child that Peckham helped escape via the Underground Railroad, a former slave. Different accounts from different hands, different people, even a handwritten letter from Edward Kendall Jr. of Westminster, who saw it for himself and wrote her story down as she had told it to him. Which is very exciting, to be able to corroborate how Peckham helped these innocent people. 

Here is the Peckham-Sawyer family. It's a group portrait from 1817. It's at the MFA Boston. I saw it in their back rooms. However, I'd love for them to put it on display. Feel free to write them a letter saying they should. If you don't want to, that's fine, too.

Here he is on the right, his brother-in-law Joseph Sawyer, his wife Ruth in the middle, their children. As Carol Troyan wrote for the MFA Boston in 1980, it's a particularly complex scene. She speculates that he may have been inspired by prints of classical art and group portraits. And interestingly, there is indication that that is true. His art teacher, Ethan Allen Greenwood, sold him prints for his artistic purpose and reference and learning. 

So I thought that was an interesting little tidbit about this one. There he is in the context of his family in [his in-laws’s] home, recorded very lovingly all together, all the generations gathered. 

Now here's a bit more about Peckham. He was a deacon by 1828. He expressed his radical views, temperance  and abolition of slavery. Troyan goes on to write, “...best known are Peckham's stylized, severely outlined portraits of children, painted in bright colors, and often including their favorite toys.” Here are two very fine examples of his portraiture around 1830 to 40. Here’s a boy with a toy cat. Thank you to David Schorsch for the image. 

Here's Betsy Hale, in a private collection. She is part of a group of three. My friends have the parent portraits, actually. It's a rare group of three, it's commonly groups of two. But she's just darling with her little book there. And the boy with his little cat. 

Peckham cared very deeply for children and the well-being of children, and for the entire community around him. He was very focused on that. He was very benevolent as a person, as well as being a talented painter who could really capture these very distinctive likenesses, both young and old and everything in between. 

Here are two child portraits, full length, that I've been fortunate enough to discover. They are quite recognizable compared to Peckham's other known works. As Deborah Chotner [author of the Peckham “Hobby Horse” catalog] wrote, “at any time these children might be angelic or mischievous, but in each case, Peckham depicts them as specific individuals, rather than types.” 

And I think that that's one of the most defining trademarks of his work. They have such a strong sense of character. Obviously, you can spot them by a consistent, vivid sense of facial modeling and sculpting in the way he uses paint to illuminate the face in three dimensions. And then the world around them. The little whip, the prop for the child, the carpet, the little poodle dog. Charming, charming stuff. 

The boy is in a museum in Hawaii. His name is not known. The girl is Juliaette G. Lord. She lived in Boston, Massachusetts, from 1839 to 1926. That one's at the Berkeley Art Museum [in California]. So they've certainly traveled a far way from Massachusetts, but it's always a delight to discover more of them. I thought I'd include those just so you get a little taste of his child portraiture, as well as the adults, which we're going to spend more time discussing.

Now here's a bit more about Peckham. David Krashes [a collector and author] wrote two articles about Peckham, the first in Maine Antique Digest, January 1985. I will give a little shout out to Maine Antique Digest here. They've just published my own article about Peckham. So thank you to all of you for that. It's a real delight to work together. Hope to write another & send it in for you. But David Krashes did that long before I did. So here's some of his findings.

“...Robert Peckham had nine children.” I will interject, only some of them lived to adulthood, as was tragically common in that era. But he cared very deeply for his children. We'll be discussing that as well. 

“...He was medium sized, rather stooped, wore his hair long. He liked children. They frequently came to his house from the school across the road for a drink of water.” Unlike most Peckham details, this one is largely anecdotal, but it certainly seems in character for him. 

“...He was known to have written poetry, although none has been preserved.” This is one I've been fortunate enough to be able to disprove. I'm not sure how Krashes found out about his poetic inclinations. There are old newspaper articles that say, such as this one: 

The historical poem from the pen of the venerable Robert Peckham, aged 83 years, was read at the Westminster Celebration.

Now this was a dedication for a Civil War memorial, where Peckham's son Samuel Henry perished as a prisoner of war in Andersonville. The author of the article says: 

Considering the age of the author, it's really a literary curiosity. Mr. Peckham is father of the Reverend Joseph Peckham, who delivered an address.

So even at 83, he was still doing his best to contribute, to make himself heard, to write, to publish, to support Westminster. And that's a very consistent thread in all of the historical documents we found about his life. He believed in Westminster and the people of Westminster, even when political conflicts essentially forced him to move to Worcester temporarily, issues of abolition and whether abolitionist lecturers should be permitted in the church. He still came back to Westminster. He wanted to live there, to raise his family there. And it seems appropriate that it should be such a hub for his works now, today.

So here's Whittier, as mentioned. Now, there's a big legend with Whittier that I haven't been able to entirely disprove, but I haven't really been able to prove it either, and that's actually quite a stumbling block for me. It is said that Whittier called his work “eminently artless.” Allegedly.

He said he was “painted by Deacon Peckham of Westminster when he was on a visit to Haverhill.” Notably, this was probably to visit his brother Samuel Howland Peckham, who served in the New England Anti-Slavery Convention in 1834. The two of them [Whittier and S.H. Peckham] went together as the delegates from Haverhill, and they knew each other before that. So, Samuel H. Peckham (Howland) probably secured the sitting [for his brother]. 

Anyway, it says, “I only recall sitting for him two or three times, but how it looked, I have no idea. It was a good picture, it was a miracle, for the Deacon was eminently artless.” A bit harsh, as you can see from the comparison. That is pretty much how Whittier looked. I mean, he was being [more than] a bit harsh there. And he was passing judgment without having seen the portrait!

But, fortunately, there is a postscript to this that I think is more interesting than the “eminently artless” story. Supposedly, “eminently artless” came from a letter. [But] two different sources cite two different letters to two different people in two different years. 

(Further reading: "Eminently Artful" Part 1 & Part 2.)

I contacted the Harvard Library that has [the Whittier papers]. The librarian could not find either of [the letters], but was incredibly helpful, and turned up a different piece of evidence from Whittier's biographer, which has a typed page of notes about Peckham. And then below that, a mention of the “eminently artless.” But, this says, 

He never saw the sketch that had been made of him until near the close of his life, when Mr. Alfred S. Roe of Worcester sent him a photograph of it. In his acknowledgement, he said, it is the face of a stranger, but I doubt not it is a likeness of the young Whittier. It represents a fresh-faced young man with black hair and a little stiff in attitude and garb. 

Now, this is right from Samuel Pickard, who was his biographer. These are in the official Whittier papers. So, I think it's very fair to say that this is accurate. This is what he said. But, I wasn't entirely satisfied with that. Of course, it's nice to have that, but it's more or less hearsay.

So, I thought I could dig a little deeper. And there is plentiful evidence that indicates the portrait is at the Worcester Society of Antiquity. As this indicates, it says, it's “now in the possession of the Worcester Society of Antiquity.” And we mentioned Mr. Alfred S. Roe. of Worcester. Guess what? He was in the Worcester Society of Antiquity. He may even have been partly responsible for the acquisition of it. What we do know is he took a photo of it, and he sent it to Whittier.

Now, can we actually prove that? A 1950 compendium on Whittier says, among the listed representations of him, “1889… photograph of the Deacon Peckham portrait, 1835,” which is an error, “now at American Antiquarian Society, Whittier has endorsed on the back from an oil painting by Deacon Peckham, the age of 23.” That's significant. That could actually be legitimate proof. 

And guess what? It exists. It was found! Thank you to Brianne Barrett at the American Antiquarian Society for digging it up in their 5,000 portrait files.

This is it. This is the actual photograph that was sent. And it has writing on the back,” John G. Whittier, age 26, from a portrait made by Robert Peckham, 1833, from A. S. Roe,” that's Alfred S. Roe, “acknowledged January 19th, 1888.” This is really actually quite huge. I mean, this is definitive, decisive proof that the incident described by Pickard happened. He saw it, and he said favorable things about it. Not so eminently artless, after all!

Apparently, Whittier reassessed his decision to speak so critically of Peckham. So I think it's really nice to know after all this time, and after all the times that “eminently artless” appears in publications about Peckham – I think it's nice to have something to disprove that. So Whittier just wasn't actually all that harsh in the end. Maybe Peckham would have been satisfied to hear that he liked it. I'd like to think so. 

We don't know exactly what Peckham did with it. The documentation mentions “[Whittier] was persuaded to sit for a portrait, which the artist might take away with him.” Now, I don't know what he intended to do with it, but it probably was destined for the Westminster Academy, is my best supposition. He was very invested in the local events of Westminster and promoting the church, promoting education.

Here are [his paintings of] two little children with books, “Webster Tucker,” private collection, and “Miss Eaton,” at the Fruitlands Museum [full title: “Charles Eaton and his Sister”]. Obviously, we don't know if they went to Westminster Academy, but [it’s] a little representation there of the kinds of children that might have attended. The National Register of Historic Places noted, “in 1829, Westminster Academy was founded by supporters of Cyrus Mann, the First Congregational Minister.” We'll be hearing more about him. He was fairly significant. He worked together very closely with Peckham in a great number of things.

It says, “Westminster Academy educated both male and female students from town and surrounding communities.” It's quite significant because we can find Peckham's own children, a boy and [two] girls, in these records.

There they are. Aren't they adorable? Here is George Peckham. Here's Ruth Peckham. And here's Mary M. Peckham and an unknown baby. We don't know who the baby is. She's painted in the portrait. But that's Mary, his youngest daughter [confirmed by research & Mary's letters], and then Ruth and George, his older children. And you can see all of them appear here in these records from the Westminster Academy. It's really nice to be able to see them in there, just for definitive proof. I mean, we can assume they went to the school that he had helped to found, and assisted in promoting, but it's nice to see it there.

And there is his 1850 census. We see him [listed] as ‘portrait painter.’ We see George as ‘tin man.’ We see Henry – Samuel Henry, [who] went by Henry – as a painter. Mary M., his little daughter, and then his second wife, Mahalath, who he married after his first wife, Ruth, tragically passed away. We'll also be discussing that, because I've located an obituary for Ruth that almost certainly was written by Peckham. It's really quite beautifully written. He was a remarkably good writer. 

So here's a little bit about his teacher, Ethan Allen Greenwood. Here's the note that Greenwood sold him prints. It's from “A New Nation of Goods” by David Jaffee. And he dug through some of Greenwood's very detailed diaries. I've actually scanned them myself, but they are quite illegible. So I'm working on that one. I will report back later.

But I did find in there, “Bob Peckham” in his journal. So that's quite funny. I think that's the only time I've seen him called Bob Peckham.

But he appears in there, recurringly, as Greenwood notes his artistic progress and improvement. And here we can see that their styles actually are not too dissimilar at this time. James Humphreys, his friend in 1809 – we know it's his friend; [Peckham] wrote on the back that it was “to my great friend James Humphreys,” or similar. [Note: the inscription says "Painted by his humble friend, Robert Peckham."]

And then here's the lady by Greenwood. She was painted in 1807 or 1809 – indecipherable writing. [Note: subsequent inspection indicates "1809."] But this coincides pretty well when Peckham was learning to paint. And I think you can really see the likeness between them, stylistically. 

Of course, he evolved as time went on. He learned to develop his own style, more refined, a little more academic, but not fully. I would not characterize him as truly academic, because he didn't really adhere to the trends of academic art that… sometimes can be a little fuzzy, a little cloudy, idealizing. And he was very precise, very crisp. It's what characterizes his work.

And [here’s] a little bit more about Greenwood and Westminster. Thanks to Nick Langhart from Forbush Library for pointing out which of the homes in that Westminster painting is Greenwood's. That big red one… There he is [in his self-portrait], he painted that himself… He taught, notably, in Westminster, it comes up in his diaries. This was before Westminster Academy – he came here as a teacher, and he learned law in Westminster. So, Greenwood was a very accomplished guy, a lot of professions. More than most people.

Here's more about him teaching. Notably, [Greenwood] presented books to the Female Westminster Social Library Company in 1809. Remember that thing about the “Females of Westminster.” That will come back.

Here's [Peckham’s] home in Westminster's history. Important little side note: “For two or three years, around 1824, the House of Deacon Peckham was gratuitously warmed and lighted for the purpose of holding the meetings of the church.” Now, you have to wonder – why would they say gratuitously warmed and lighted. We kind of take that for granted, right? You know, heat, light, plumbing… Not so much. The church did not have indoor heating until 1827. 

“It was 92 years before they'd ever conceived that a fire could be had in the Church of God,” as A. Judson Rich writes in the 125th Historical Discourse on the Founding of the Congregational Church… I usually call it the 125th, because its title is extremely long and very unwieldy. So, in the 125th, Judson Rich wrote about this – their lack of heat. It was actually controversial when they introduced the stove. So Peckham was ahead of his time by heating his house for church meetings. Kind of extraordinary to think about. But there it is. 

And there's a little plaque, "Deacon Peckham House." Now here's more of Peckham supporting Westminster, doing the best he could: 

As early as 1824, at a social prayer meeting at Deacon Peckham's house, originated the idea of building a vestry. At the close of the meeting, Deacon Peckham proposed that a vestry be built. The proposition was favorably received, and it was decided by unanimous vote to undertake the enterprise and $400 was subscribed on the spot, Deacon Peckham heading the paper with $20, and others following with more or less. 

“A building committee was chosen,” of which, surprise, Deacon Peckham was chairman. So he really got things done, you know. When you review these documents, it becomes more and more clear exactly how proactive and organized he was. It's impressive. But it was delayed – the building was not completed until 1829.

Mr. Mann was the leading spirit in the enterprise. He proposed the two objects of a vestry and academy be combined.

And so they did. The upper story was for the school, the lower room was for the church. This went on pretty well until 1846 when the anti-slavery lecturers began to be a controversial subject. And so the academy filed for reincorporation with none other than Peckham's name on it, and Benjamin Wyman, who he worked closely with in some matters in Westminster.

Now, the Westminster Academy got a pretty rave review here in the 125th. They're quoting the Congregational Quarterly. “‘If Mr. Mann had never done anything else, he would deserve the gratitude of Westminster’... Many were fitting for Amherst and Dartmouth colleges.” There is an Amherst and Peckham connection, again, it's what I wrote for Maine Antique Digest about. You should check that out.

Now, more about Cyrus Mann. He was more of a facilitator, while Peckham was more proactive and really took a stance. Cyrus Mann sort of hung back a little. As George Goodyear, an abolitionist, writes, he was a member of a society formed on the “principles of immediate emancipation.”

This is quite important, because immediate emancipation was more of a radical stance. Others took sort of a soft pedaling approach, kind of phasing it out, you know, go easy on the South. But here, Peckham and the other members of the society felt very strongly, this is wrong, it should be done, we should get rid of this. He took a very firm stance, as we can see, as did Cyrus Mann, who had “not preached on emancipation yet, but thinks he shall soon.” 

Here's more. These are anonymous portrait subjects by Peckham. [Portrait 1 / Portrait 2 / Portrait 3 / Portrait 4] We don't know their names, we don't know where they're from. Which, I think, can be quite sad to realize we have all these lovely images of all these people, and their names have been lost. It's very rare to be able to return a name to a portrait. Sometimes it can be done. For these, it probably won't, yet. But he painted primarily in Westminster and surrounding towns. And he chose subjects – Whittier comes to mind – that shared his values, and that he got along with. So it's entirely likely that these could have been Westminster people. We don't know, but it's fun to speculate.

So here is what Judson Rich writes: “It was through the efforts of Deacon Peckham that a Mr. Goodyear,” the very same [one] from that letter, “was introduced to this place to lecture on the cause of the oppressed.” 

He lectured all day and evening, carrying with him the sympathy of the whole congregation, with very few exceptions, a society was soon formed as the result, as was done in most of the surrounding towns within a few months from that time. Deacon Peckham's house was the headquarters for these lecturers where they found a welcome, often a week at a time.

Now [Peckham] was the headquarters. I mean, I think that's really tremendous to see this in print, and this was published when he was still alive. He was very old, but he was alive. And so we can consider the information that comes from this, I think, fully credible about Peckham and his life and deeds.

He was, at least at the beginning, the “treasurer, Deacon Robert Pickham,” of the Worcester North Anti-Slavery Society, 1836. We see some familiar names here, here's Goodyear, Deacon Robert Peckham, we see last names that are familiar in Westminster, Everett, J.T. Everett, we see Wood, we see Jones.

We see a lot of people that are prominent characters in Westminster. Here's one of them, George Kendall. He is at Forbush Memorial Library – his portrait, at least. So, Peckham represented him here. He probably painted more members of his family, [but] we don't have those. They might be out there. But we do have this one, and he appears in Judson Rich's list.

“Sympathy for the oppressed was very strong, and efforts were made to indoctrinate the people in the true gospel of freedom. Among the leaders were the Kendalls” – Edward and George Kendall, the Merriams, Heywood, Peckham again, Miles Wyman, Benjamin Wyman – he's the one that [Peckham] reincorporated the school with. Again, pretty recurring.

Now, here is a petition against the “gag rule.” You may or may not be familiar with the gag rule. It was implemented from 1836 to 1844, to forbid discussion in the House of Representatives of the idea of abolition itself. I mean it was, really, outright censorship. John Quincy Adams fought very prominently against it, and after eight years of fighting, he did eventually have it overturned. Really tremendous story, he was quite a character. 

I've actually become very fond of Quincy Adams after reading about him. We don't really hear much very specific about him, but he accomplished a lot. He was, I believe, the only former president to join the House of Representatives to continue this work with his life for the public good, and it's really quite extraordinary. 

So Peckham was a pretty big fan, as you'll learn very soon. Westminster citizens Cyrus Mann, Robert Peckham, 51 citizens of Westminster, submitted a petition against the gag rule to “...protest without delay in the name of the people.” You can see they've got all these signatures. This is one of dozens of anti-slavery petitions that Peckham's signature appears on – alongside his portrait subjects. Interestingly, many of them appear [on other petitions] as well. Not a huge surprise. 

Here are Peckham's own words on the gag rule. He says: [it was enacted] “...to protect against free discussion.” He calls out the capitol itself becoming “...a slave market, where for the vilest party purposes, men are bought and sold in exchange for extra important votes.” [illustration link] He has some very strong words about this, and this letter is directed to none other than John Quincy Adams.

Now, returning to the gag rule, I briefly explained it [earlier] – it's most of what I said here. But it's quite notable how much risk [Adams] took in this. He received death threats; he wrote in his diary about them. He took really an enormous risk here. Here he is in a political cartoon of the era, 1838-39. He kept fighting this. He tried more and more loopholes and tactics to speak about abolition, to have bills introduced. He just kept trying. He did not give up. It's a really tenacious spirit and I think that was what Peckham admired so greatly. 

I'll read the letter, because I believe this is actually the first time that this letter has been seen. I dug it up out of the Mass Historical Society records of John Quincy Adams. [portrait link] [It’s] one of three letters that Peckham wrote to him. Westminster, Mass, December 25, 1838 – so he took the time off on Christmas to write to Quincy Adams, to send his very justified fan mail. 

The undersigned have been appointed as a committee of the Anti-Slavery Society of this town to express to you their thanks for your noble efforts in Congress, in behalf of the liberty of speech, and of petition, and in behalf of oppressed humanity. 

This is the title of my presentation [In Behalf of Oppressed Humanity]. He said that – those are his very own words, in his very own hand. 

The duty imposed upon us is at once very pleasing and very difficult. Pleasing, because most consonant with our own hearts. Difficult, because words are inadequate to express ourselves and those we represent. As citizens of the great republic, which at least lastly professes to guarantee to all within its limits, freedom and protection. 

We thank you for your earnest and powerful endeavors to rescue these inborn rights from a most unhallowed desecration. We feel the more grateful when we reflect how few have had the courage to stand by you, while the fierce wrath of slaving of slavery was vented upon your devoted head.

Sir, you have had repeatedly to witness the passage of gag resolutions by the American Congress. Gag resolutions, for what? Why, to protect against free discussion.

The patriarchal institution, the divine institution, sanctioned by all reason, common prudence, and revelation. While standing in your place, in the hall of legislation and debate, to reiterate those very principles, which brought into existence the republic, and which are fundamental in every free government. You have heard from every part of the house, the most disorderly cries for order, loud and shameless demands for the protection of southern rights.

As though the real free man, the slave, and the union of the states were all the merest subsidiaries to the interest of the south. Northern representatives, too. But, sir, it is quite needless that we should tell you of the voluntary slavery which your own eyes daily witness.

For it would seem that the capital itself has become a slave market, where for the vilest party purposes, men are bought and sold, and where whole states are bargained away to southern slavery in exchange for the extra important votes of slaveholders. But now such a bargain, if indeed it has been attempted, cannot be satisfied. The people are themselves, and not things.

Besides, we rejoice in the belief that there are men on the floor of Congress who will never cower. We rejoice to find one so talented and so learned as the one whom we are addressing, foremost of those who dare speak and act for humanity and for health. Sir, your efforts are not vain.

Perseverance will increase success. Even now, your reward is rich. You have awakened fresh gratitude in the hearts of millions, and conscience, that voice of the Most High assures you. Blessed is he that considereth the poor. Robert Peckham, Caleb Brown, Joel Merriam.

And in Quincy Adams' own hand, we see, he had received it [on Dec 28]. And so this was probably a very welcome departure for him from the hate-mail he was getting, to receive such a heartfelt and very well-said letter from Peckham. And I think that he is, as mentioned, an exceptionally good writer.

I think that he really sums up a lot of the feelings of the day about these atrocities that were happening, and the way that there was suppression against these efforts to stop [the atrocities], to bring the country onto a better path. This was something [Peckham] felt very, very strongly about, he was very, very active in. Not the only cause, he also advocated for temperance, but abolition was really a big one.

Here are a couple of other letters that [Peckham] wrote. He mentions that he's sending [Adams] a new petition – this is in 1837, a year before. This was also about the gag rule. This is about the gag rule petition [in the previous slides]. Interestingly, he sent him an extra letter just to be sure he got it. Very thorough.

And here he sends another letter on behalf of the female petitioners of Westminster. He says: 

On behalf of the females of Westminster, who signed the enclosed petition, respectfully request you would present the same.

Now “the Females of Westminster” does sound a little odd. But remember they had the “Female Book Club” of Westminster, so that was probably their own terminology. And so, he wrote this on behalf of the ladies of Westminster, all the women. Interestingly, his own wife and daughter were involved in gathering petitions. There's proof of that. It's really interesting to find.

Notably, abolition among women was gaining greater recognition at the time. And there was imagery being published with a female version of the iconic “Am I Not A Man And A Brother” image, of a slave pleading for his freedom, that was published alongside Whittier's anti-slavery poem, “Our Countrymen In Chains.” So, little Whittier tidbit there. Here's the female version: “Am I Not A Woman And A Sister.” This was really gaining ground. 

Here is Ruth Peckham. She has petitions from 1838 to 1840. Here we see, Ruth S. Peckham, in 1840, and 39 others of Westminster. And, Ruth Peckham and 172 others of Westminster. So clearly two different Ruth Peckhams, which surely are his wife and his daughter. Ruth S. Peckham is probably Ruth Sawyer Peckham, which was her maiden name. So, the Massachusetts legislature, as the petition presented… and the other source that I found for an 1838 petition, the petition of Ruth Peckham and 139 women of Westminster, appears in a Georgia newspaper, which also takes great pains to add an editorial warning of how “Southern people have not the most distant idea of the extent of the spirit of abolitionism, and its unguarded and alarming attacks upon their constitutional rights.” 

That was the kind of rhetoric that was being passed around in the southern papers at the time, reassuring southern people the abolitionists were wrong, while also warning them that this belief in freedom was gaining prominence, and, oh goodness forbid. But there were enough petitions and enough momentum to really make some change. 

And the Peckhams, the whole Peckham family, not just Robert, were participating here. But unfortunately, Ruth Sawyer Peckham passed away in 1842. Her obituary is very touching. He probably wrote it. I will read it here. 

In Westminster, Mass., February, 7, Mrs Ruth S., wife of Deacon Robert Peckham, aged 52 years [died]. A consistent Christian in life, she enjoyed the Christian’s peace in death. Her religion was neither periodical nor ostentatious, but with a consciousness of her own demerits. Her unwavering trust was alone in her Redeemer. Be it that she moved mainly within the narrow sphere of her family, her influence there was all the greater for that. All her instructions were enforced by the sincerest, most ardent love, sanctified by the purest Christian principle. For her children, whether in infancy or in mature years, at home or abroad, her prayers were daily offered. They seemed as a part of her own being. She loved them and labored for them, not simply because they were her children, but because their souls were in a sense entrusted to her care. 

But she is gone. Blessed is her memory. Our joy in our bereavement, is that she is beyond the reach of sorrow. May her prayers be realized, and we all meet her in heaven. 

Really a beautiful obituary, very, very sad. He was very much grieving his wife. And this is probably why he resigned a couple months later as Deacon from his church. It has been speculated that his resignation had to do with the abolition issue. That doesn't appear to be the case.

Actually, he did split with the church because of this, but his resignation from the Deaconship itself appears to be so that he could care for his family. His children were Ruth, age 17, George, age 15, Samuel Henry, age nine. Samuel Henry was, sadly, a particularly troubled child, so Peckham probably felt a particular familial duty to look after his son. 

Interestingly, in the church notes gathered by [Ann] Howard, it says, "When Deacon Robert Peckham resigned after 14 years of service in May of 1842, a committee of eight was formed to find two replacements." So, clearly he was doing some pretty heavy lifting over there. But he had to resign and to care for his family, probably. I think it's a very logical conclusion, considering that he seems to have been very affected by the passing of his wife, and he had his children. 

Here's Samuel Henry – cute little guy with a slate here. Unfortunately he ran away from home a couple of times. There are notices in the paper about this. At 16, and again at 19, which mentioned some issues with his mental health. But Peckham really loved him, he really cared for him, and he appears in his household census at age 22 and again at age 27 in 1855 and 1860 as a painter, as a young man who was doing quite well for himself.

Here he is as an adult. Rare to have portraits of the same child and then a grown man, from his own family. It's a really nice comparative example of Peckham's later style and the evolution of it, the precision in which he painted, but it is the same Samuel Henry. Tragically, most tragically of all, he died at Andersonville. It was “...disease contracted by exposure, lack of food,” as Heywood writes in the History of Westminster [book]. He would die much too young. Peckham grieved him greatly. Peckham wrote a very long and very eloquent historical poem for the dedication of the Civil War Memorial Monument in Westminster, on which Samuel H. Peckham's name appears. “Age 31 years,” he died. 

So it's just incredibly tragic. And I'm sure that Peckham had an immense amount of grief about it. But he stayed productive, he stayed motivated. He wrote and published this poem. Quite possibly, the same poem that David Krashes knew the existence of and mentioned, and it's really nice to be able to reveal it, and to shed some light on how talented and eloquent he was. 

Now here's just a little bit more documentation about abolitionist lecturers becoming an issue in 1846. Brother George Miles appears to have been excommunicated simply for speaking out about the church shutting out anti-slavery lectures. Not particularly great. 

Speaking of lecturers in Westminster, here’s the whole bunch of them. We have William Lloyd Garrison, Abby Kelly, the Misses Grimke of South Carolina, Sally Holly, Henry B. Stanton, Mr. Dresser, Mr. Torrey. There's a little brief look at them.

Garrison – Peckham knew Garrison, they were on the same anti-slavery committee, including a committee where they formed groups to avoid kidnapping, to fight against kidnapping of escaped slaves in their county [Worcester].

Here's the masthead of The Liberator, that Garrison was the massively successful editor of. You see on the left, there's a scene of suffering and grief and tragedy; on the right, the utopia, a hopeful scene of emancipation.

It reminded me a little bit of Peckham's illustrations to do with temperance, which are very similar, the suffering from alcoholism, and the happiness of abstaining from alcohol and, you know, going out with your family on a nice day.

So I thought it was an interesting little comparative format. We don't know who illustrated for Garrison, I would love to know someday. It's really interesting stuff.

More illustrations [and biographies, from "American Abolitionists."]. There's Abby Kelley Foster, the Grimkes [Angelica and Sarah], Sallie Holley, Henry B. Stanton, Amos Dresser, Stanton and Dresser in Westminster, [Charles Turner] Torrey & the Underground Railroad…

So, returning again to the trusty 125th – Peckham and the Underground Railroad: “Deacon Peckham has several times sheltered under his roof and fed from his table, and in other ways helped onward toward Canada, the fleeing slave. At one time, a Quaker, late one Saturday night, brought to his house a slave mother and child. The mother, on being uncovered, was found to be white, and the child only slightly tinged with color. She was delighted with her reception and told the story of her escape. Collecting $7 for her, their benefactor” – notably Peckham, that was Peckham – “directed the Quaker where to go in Gardner the next night, Sunday, and with fugitives, all covered up in the carriage, on to freedom they winded their way in sweet and glorious triumph. Thank God, this is now the land of true freedom!”

And so that wonderful little anecdote actually is backed up by multiple historical sources. We know a great deal more about the woman, thanks to a letter from Edward Kendall.

[The anecdote] appears in the American Antiquarian Society’s Journal of Anti-Slavery Activities, discussing a young woman, about 30 years old and almost white. “She was given dinner and clothing and went on her way.”

Here's a little child, probably not too dissimilar from the child she brought with her, painted by another Massachusetts painter, William Prior. This is [written by] Deacon Joshua T. Everett. Notably, he appeared in many of those sources that I cited further back about the anti-slavery groups. Again, consistent recurring names. He points out, she was very light skinned and she was about 30 and she had a little child. They gave her dinner and help, and on she went to Canada. So it's all matching up.

Now, here from the letter from Edward Kendall Jr., March 1838, we have the actual account from her. He wrote it down as she said it. So here's a representation of what she might have looked like. We obviously don't know, actually, who this is. From the Schorsch & Smiles collection, a lovely little miniature. 

“A Westminster, Massachusetts man, Edward Kendall Jr. wrote to Amos Phelps, and described a slave, a female with a young child. He recounted her history ‘as given by herself.’” Now, the scholar who wrote this little blurb points out the importance of firsthand accounts, and I agree. So here is the actual letter. I did transcribe this. I'll read that one a little bit. 

“There passed through this place, some three weeks since, a slave, a female with a young child, going to use her own language, ‘to a land of freedom.’ Her history is this: her first master was her father.” And he points out that she could pass as white, as is mentioned in the other accounts. She lived in Virginia. “[Her father] willed her freedom after his death.” 

She was “reclaimed” by her mistress being remarried. She “lost a suit”… She got her freedom, actually, on the first attempt. She was helped, and she was reclaimed. She came to Philadelphia, she married, she lived for years with her husband, and she lost this lawsuit. So she went through repeatedly the cycle of being freed and helped and escaping and being dragged back into slavery, which is horrific to think about. She had two children. 

[After losing the suit] she was brought back to Virginia by an officer. But when he was taken sick, there was a delay, and in that time, she was assisted in escaping. One of the domestics came into her room. They told her the family had sat down. She threw her bonnet and cloak out of a broken pane of glass in her room. She ran a mile. [Once] she’d gone three or four miles, “...she inquired for a place called Quaker Hill” – again the Quakers, this matches up to the account of the people Peckham helped. 

“She found her friends, went to Philadelphia and on to New York. She was in company with her pursuers on her passage.” You can't even imagine how terrifying it must have been. She brought her child along in a bag, her little child. She left her older child with the Quakers for safety's sake. So it says, “She, in company with a gentleman of the denomination of Quaker, [went] to a land of liberty.”

It's interesting, the overlap in the description between this and the account in the 125th, of the escaping former slaves that Peckham helped, and who did get their freedom. It’s really quite remarkable. “She appeared to be 30 years of age, she expected to meet her husband on arriving at her place of destination.” So she might have gotten a happy ending after all. We can only hope so. 

Here are some [photographic] portraits after the war, of little babies [and] young women. [Children 1, 2, and 3; Woman 1, Woman 2, Woman 3]

We don't have a portrait of [the woman]; it seems unlikely Peckham would have painted her. Probably for her own safety. Obviously, you wouldn't want a record that she was there.

Now, some remarks by Frederick Douglass on portrait painting. He didn't think very favorably of it.

Here he is – there was a painting done from an engraving. [Illustration; Painting, from illustration; Daguerreotype]. But he didn't sit for a portrait that we know of. I wish he did, because he is linked to Peckham.

Here's the wrong illustration [that Douglass critiqued]; it's not very good. [improved illustration]

Peckham's obituaries all cite Frederick Douglass. [Obituary 1; Obituary 2; Obituary 3]

They seem to have been embellished a little bit. One of them says, “His house sheltered Frederick Douglass for a week when he was making his way to Canada, and many of his brethren likewise found aid and comfort when fleeing for liberty.” This one says, “He aided several slaves and sheltered Douglass as he was flitting about the country to keep out of harm's way.” 

But we do know Frederick Douglass spoke in Westminster, [in] 1844, 1845, and 1849, so Peckham really kept him coming back. He was definitely a very, very prominent speaker to have been able to invite. He did a good job there.

Here's a couple others that [Douglass] came along with – Charles Lennox Remond, Parker Pillsbury.

Extraordinarily long list going on here. But there is one more. [illustration source 1, source 2]

Peckham had an “Anti-Slavery Picnic,” July 4, 1843, and he advertised for it, as did his friend Benjamin Wyman – same one, again.

He [Peckham] placed an ad in the newspaper, he said: “prominent anti-slavery speakers from abroad are expected to be present.” Didn't quite get that. 

Here's an [illustration of an] anti-slavery picnic, not his, but a local Massachusetts town [Weymouth Landing, 1845].

There he is [the final speaker] – Adin Ballou. He wrote The Voice of Duty, which got rave reviews in The Liberator. This was an address, a very long one, he delivered [at Peckham’s picnic].

It's very, very eloquent and very fiery. It got, obviously, quite popular… He says, “We are here to do all this, to invigorate the love of freedom, and to deepen the detestation of tyranny, without respect to persons without favor and without fear. Man is man wherever he may exist.” It's very strong stuff. 

He says, “It is usual for our 4th of July orators to glorify liberty, the birthright of American white men.” He goes on to point out that they are overlooking men of color and slavery. They're denouncing the British while ignoring the American troubles that still plague society. He's quite right. It's very sobering stuff, and to have it at a picnic too. So Peckham was definitely making a strong stance with that.

[Ballou] goes on to say: 

It is a pitiful weakness to crave perpetual flattery and to be offended at wholesome reproof. We Americans have exhibited full enough of this weakness. We have been children long enough.

We have been wheedled and befooled long enough by the sops and sugar plums of demagogues. Politicians thrive by trimming to the whims and the caprices of the people, by managing them. True philanthropists and patriots, by reforming the public sentiment, by bringing the people to identify their honor and prosperity with righteousness, by learning them to govern themselves.

And it all goes on for another 10 plus pages this way. It's definitely a good read, but obviously a bit too long, so I'll skip forward here. 

Sadly, Peckham didn't get very many people to his picnic, compared to the 3,000 people at another anti-slavery picnic closer to Boston. Same day, probably same time. Garrison went to that one, so Peckham probably didn't stand much of a chance. But he did have this published in The Liberator eventually, and Ballou got to put it in print [in] 1843, and it has definitely stood the test of time.

[Peckham] was involved with the Liberty Party, a third party that felt the two parties had become complicit and not effective in combating slavery. But all of this got him in some trouble. He was excommunicated in 1848, and [Ann] Howard's notes give some clarity on that.

He stood up for himself with multiple letters, most of which are very strong. He had been condemned by them supposedly for mishandling documents related to the [Congregational] Church and the academy being separated. It was all wholly spurious, frankly.

So he has some strong comments here. And he asks for a council to review the decision from other churches, other locales. They did have the council [in 1849], and they found he had done nothing wrong.

“The council did not learn that anything prejudicial to the character of Deacon Peckham was even known of him during the 26 years of his membership.” So he really didn't do anything wrong here. And it was blamed on “certain local matters of a secular nature.” Unsurprising. 

Now, concluding here with Peckham's Civil War poem, which is one of my favorite pieces of this. It's very long again, but it is very good.

It's all done in verse. Not dissimilar to Whittier's poetry, actually. I think it's very fair to say he might have taken inspiration from Whittier for this, because he was a fan of Whittier's work, even way back when, in 1833. So he was probably very glad to have an opportunity to publish something like that. And it's pretty good. 

He starts out comparing “A foe in our midst to destroy our fair hope,” which is freedom, after escaping the British, “Which proved more tyrannic than the hard British yoke. / This foe like a serpent coiled around the state / and instead of freedom brought malice and hate.” And so this snake imagery was not uncommon in political cartoons. You can see there, a Union General [Gen. Winfield Scott], fighting off the multi-headed serpent of secession and slavery. 

[Here are] some excellent little political cartoons that I think are timeless.

The bird, the national bird, thriving at the beginning and then starved and suffering. And the ballot box being kicked around, you know. This stuff doesn't go away. But Peckham had some strong thoughts about it. 

The prisoners of war – this part is particularly devastating. 

In Westminster, all hearts beat for the right;
And our brave boys started quick for the fight.
They had a desire to give their best aid,
And to meet the foe they were never afraid;
Yet many of our boys have lost their life
In facing this wicked, rebellious strife. 

But there was a class whose deplorable state
Fills me with grief, their cause to relate.
These were the prisoners taken in battle,
And put into pens like herds of cattle;
There without shelter from a burning sun,
Whose scorching rays they could not shun. 

It goes on and gets worse and worse, and his son passed this way, suffering horribly. And he says, 

Amongst the names upon the stone,
Is one who died there, the writer's son;
His name with others can now be read,
As one amongst the starved dead.
With pain and grief, I must relate it,
but as a specimen I would state it;
For the great number who died there,
Did like my son, starvation share.

He also includes a warning about the current circumstances, about Andrew Johnson.

He has many pages of praise for Abraham Lincoln, rightly so, but calls attention to Johnson mishandling and squandering the opportunity. He said: 

Johnson now felt that HE WAS A POWER
Which did make Congress and others to cower,
Now he could go on with his tyrannic sway,
And rule o'er the country in his own way.
For Congress had shown such fear of his station,
Lest impeachment should embroil the nation;
Then the party that had given him the seat,
Might be broken up with a sad defeat.
Thus feeling, he took an obstinate stand,
Not to execute all the laws of the land.

To all this he replies in a very long yarn:
To them or the country he'd never done harm.

Instead of seeking the good of the nation,
He was trying to build up his own elevation.
He has found sycophants in Cabinet places,
Who were ready to aid and work in his traces.

So Peckham felt it was not all solved by the Civil War. You know, these problems were still ongoing. There's a cartoon by Thomas Nast, who you may have heard of. He was quite prolific, quite skilled. He did a cartoon of ‘Johnson disposing of the Freedmen's Bureau as African Americans go flying.’ Johnson felt essentially they were receiving too much help. And Peckham did not agree with that. But he has some strong thoughts at the end: 

It has been told that a million of money,
Has been offered for votes as a stimulant bounty;
Some may give heed till it swells in their eyes,
Their consciences stretch and they grasp at the prize,
But let it be noted if such ones there be,
That those thus made rich can't from treachorship flee.
Their country's decision, as Arnold's of old,
Will stamp them as traitors to be bought and sold.

And so he still believed, even with the turmoil of the present day in 1868, that this would resolve itself, the country would continue to get better and to heal after this catastrophic Civil War.

So, the end of his Civil War poem: 

Those names upon it, tell us their end,
how each has sacrificed some dearest friend.
They left us in health no more to return.
Whilst we, their absence are left to mourn.
May we not hope they've gone to their rest
in the regions of light amongst the blessed.
They shall there be free from sorrow and pain.
Let us all prepare to meet them again. 

Now, if you recall, this wording is quite similar to his obituary for his wife, a recurring sentiment throughout the years. As he lost his family, he saw these catastrophes playing out around him. And he still did everything he could to help Westminster, to help his community, to really take a stand, to be a role model, I think, for not only his family but for the citizens around him. 

And frankly, I think that even if he had never painted a single painting, he would have been historically notable. He would have been worth remembering. But he did paint all of these lovely paintings. Here's another finding, maybe a young man of the Peckham family; he certainly looks the part. He's just, you know, a nice little young man, one of many Peckhams that have been scattered around New England, but they're just waiting to be discovered. 

And I think that he himself has been waiting to be discovered. He was a humble person. He did not promote himself to excess, or really, at all. He promoted the causes he stood for. But he was not concerned with ego or notoriety. He barely signed his paintings. He just wanted to represent the world around him with his paintbrush, and to improve it wherever he could. And so he says, in a little piece of advice at the very end: 

Let young men who would wish to rise,
have a good standard before their eyes,
in whatever business be your aim,
don't set your hearts on future fame.
Seek to do right. All things thorough,
then true fame will be sure to follow.

And it certainly seems that he followed his own advice. 

Thank you for coming. [lecture ends here]