USA > Pennsylvania > Fayette County > Uniontown > A history of Uniontown : the county seat of Fayette County, Pennsylvania > Part 55
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restored and the people submitted to the law. General Lee had his headquarters in a small frame building that then stood on a lot belonging to Colonel Alexander McClean on the ground now occupied by the court house. He remained here only a few days, and on the 4th of November the army marched towards Peterson's, on the east side of Parkinson's Ferry. The principal encampment was at what is now Lock No. 3, Wash- ington county, and the old Virginia court house was used as headquarters.
The entire army remained in the neighborhood of Parkin- son's Ferry for several days, after which the main part of the troops moved down the Monongahela river, and on November 15th, a detachment was marched from Parkenson's Ferry to Washington. General Lee had his headquarters at Elizabeth, November 29th, after the departure of the army.
On November 17th, general orders were given for the re- turn of the army, and it was in motion homeward on the 19th.
Brig .- Genl. Smith, with the Maryland Line returned by the way of Uniontown and the Braddock road, and part of the troops, under Genl. Morgan, remained over winter in Wash- ington county to keep the peace.
After the withdrawal of the main body of the army a few of the troops were left in charge of a few officers, and the con- duct of one or two of these officers towards the people who had signed the submission papers and had taken the oath of submission and against whom no charges had been brought, was more becoming a Comanche Indian than an officer of the United States army.
There were two forms of oath to which the inhabitants of this disaffected district were obliged to subscribe. One was known as the oath of allegiance and the other the oath of as- sociation. These oaths were signed in duplicate and read as follows: "I do solemnly swear in the presence of Almighty God that I will support the constitution of the United States, and obey all the laws thereof, and will discountenance all opposi- tion of the same except by the way of petition and remon- strance, and all attempts to resist, obstruct or ill treat the officers of the United States in the execution of their respective duties. So help me God."
The second, known as the oath of Association, was as fol- lows: "I do hereby engage and associate myself to and with
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all others who may subscribe to these presents to countenance and protect the officers of the United States in the exercise of their duties according to law, and to discover and bring to justice all persons who may be concerned directly or indirectly in illegally hindering or obstructing the said officers or any of them in the execution of his or their duty, or in doing any manner of violence to them or any of them.
In witness of all which I have hereunto subscribed my hand the day and year opposite my name."
When the clouds of what was known as the Whisky In- surrection had rolled away, it was found that several of the citizens of this district had been sent to Philadelphia for trial, against only a few of whom were charges preferred. Colonel Thomas Gaddis was accused of misdemeanor in raising a Liberty Pole on his farm on the Morgantown road. One Thomas Patton, a very ignorant man, subject to fits of tempo- rary insanity, was found guilty of setting fire to the house of Collector Wells, and was sentenced to death, but was finally pardoned by the proclamation of President Washington. The chief witness against this man was the chief leader of the rioters who attacked Well's house, and he was pardoned by the commander-in-chief. David Bradford, the most radical of all the agitators, fled the country, and was the only person not included in President Washington's proclamation of amnesty.
In August, 1794, a general pardon was issued by the presi- dent and Governor Mifflin.
In one year since the Insurrection the Western Survey of Pennsylvania remitted to the Treasury about $20,000 of excise tax, which amounted to one-fifth of the net revenue raised in one year on distilled spirits from domestic materials in the whole United States.
DAVID G. BLYTHE.
Of the former eccentric residents of Uniontown may be mentioned David G. Blythe who was born near East Liver- pool, Ohio, May 9, 1815. In his care-free boyhood he frequently amused himself and friends by sketching some ridiculous object, for which he possessed extraordinary ability, using no other material than a piece of charcoal, and as his canvas the door or side of an outhouse. At the age of sixteen he went to Pittsburgh where he engaged himself at wood carving. He next went to
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New York where he enlisted in the United States navy as a ship carpenter, and while cruising in the Gulf of Mexico he witnessed the bombardment of Vera Cruz by the French navy. At the expiration of his term of enlistment he returned to Pitts- burgh, where he acquired some reputation as a portrait painter and caricaturist, in the latter of which he produced his happiest effects.
In the winter of 1846-47, Blythe made his appearance in Uniontown and procured boarding at the Seaton House, now known as the West End hotel. Here a number of young men were boarders, among whom was one F. H. Rice, a Yankee shoe merchant. It was Rice's custom to drive through the mountains exchanging his merchandise for country produce, which on his return he would convert into cash. On one of these excursions, it being a warm, sultry day, Rice fell asleep in his wagon, and his horse being unguided, pulled over to the edge of the road and upset Rice and his load of apples, onions, butter, eggs and in fact almost everything from a live turkey gobbler to a string of dried apples, down over the embankment. On his return home Rice, in his peculiar Yankee twang, related his mishap to the boarders at the table who enjoyed a hearty laugh at the recital of his misfortune.
Soon after the occurrence above related it was again al- luded to at the table in the presence of a stranger who was a silent listener to all the remarks made at Rice's expense. The following Sabbath morning as the boarders assembled, with a goodly number of young men of the town who had dropped in. for a chat, they discovered a sketch on the mantlepiece, en- titled " Rice's Landing." This was so faithfully drawn that it required no explanation and created a roar of laughter. The query then was who could have perpetrated the deed, as no one of their acquaintance was competent to do it, finally the stranger was pointed out as the author of the sketch, and from that time Blythe became a favorite among his set.
P. U. Hook then kept a store opposite the Seaton House, and over his store Blythe secured a room which he very ap- propriately named "The Rat's Nest," and here he had his studio, painted his sketches and wrote much of his poetry over the nom de plume of " Boots." His talent as a portrait painter soon brought him some employment.
From the Seaton House Blythe moved his boarding to the
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Eagle hotel, then kept by Aaron Stone. Here he remained a boarder for some time, and a strong friendship grew up be- tween him and the landlord; but one night at a ball given at the hotel, which was quite a swell affair for those days, some of the boarders became too hilarious and Mr. Stone ordered them to leave. They all left in a body, Blythe along with them, although he knew at the time he was not included in the order. He then took boarding with Joshua Marsh, the gentle- manly proprietor of the National House on Morgantown street, and here he remained until he finally left the town.
In December of 1847 the new court house was finished, on the dome of which was a disk upon which was to stand a statue of General Lafayette in honor of whom the county was named. When it was learned that Blythe claimed to be a carver in wood it was decided to secure his services for the carving of a suitable statue of Lafayette to surmount the new court house. A subscription paper was circulated and subscriptions to the amount of one hundred and twenty-five dollars were secured. Two-inch poplar planks were pinned together and Blythe was employed to execute the work, which was commenced and finished in the little log building still standing on South street and formerly known as West's school house.
A large wood engraving was used as a model, and the faithfulness of this statue to the engraving and the likeness of the features are remarkable. This statue was placed on the dome of the court house and there remained until 1890, when the building was torn away for the erection of the present court house. It now stands in the corridor of the present temple of justice, where it should remind every one of the gratitude this nation owes to General Lafayette for the part he took in secur- ing the independence of the American colonists.
Soon after Blythe had carved the statue of Lafayette for the court house at Uniontown correspondence was opened with him to secure his services in carving a statue of General Na- thaniel Greene to surmount the new court house then building at Waynesburg. This was quite a compliment to Blythe, and indicated that the statue for the Fayette county court house was satisfactory.
Blythe replied that he would execute the work in an artistic and satisfactory manner for the sum of three hundred dollars, to which price the Greene county folks took exceptions and in
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reply stated that they did not propose to give him the " whole county " for his work, and that they in all probability had local artists who could do it as well as he could for one hundred dol- lars. To this Blythe replied that if that were the case they were very foolish not to close the contract at once. Bradley Mahanna of Waynesburg was then employed and accomplished the task.
This correspondence and treatment soured Blythe's feel- ings toward Greene county in general and Waynesburg in par- ticular, and he chaffed to find an opportunity to vent his pent- up indignation. This opportunity soon occurred, for when the corner-stone of the new court house was laid with Masonic ceremonies, Blythe, with a number of Brother Masons of Uniontown, attended, and on this occasion he gathered some data from which he gave " Little Greene " some verses from his sarcastic pen under the title "Greene county had a holiday." These verses of Blythe created such a furor in " Little Greene " that the newspapers invited the bards of Greene county to come forward and "give 'Boots' gas," which was done by William Siegfried in such a manner as to cause much merri- ment on both sides of the Monongahela.
While making his home in Uniontown Blythe was married to Miss Julia Keffer, a most amiable lady of the town. They made their home at the National House; but Blythe was not long permitted to enjoy the companionship of his estimable wife, as she lived but a few months after their marriage when that dread disease, consumption, claimed her for its victim.
The following touching verses seem as though written im- mediately after the death of his wife and before her burial :
They told me you were dying, And a tear, the first I'd seen For years, flowed down my cheek, And seemed to mollify the keen Bitterness of departed hope.
And recollection spread her wing, And, hurrying back into the past, Brought, one by one, each little thing That bound us to each other. And There, clustering around, they spoke Something to me, in thy name, And my heart was broke.
MUNICIPAL BUILDING AT UNIONTOWN, PA.
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After the burial of his wife that dreadful lonesomeness, which only those who have had the sad experience can realize, settled over Blythe, and, as he could express his feelings better in verse than prose, he penned the following heart-touching lines :
'TIS PAST!
'Tis past! The door is shut and locked, And darkness, darker grown With being mocked By light and hope, has shown Me, I'm alone !
'Tis past! and all again is blank. The little bark that bore me on Its wing has sunk ; And every spark of hope is gone, And I'm alone !
'Tis past! and now my wandering eye, Dim by disappointment grown, Meets but a sky As dark and starless as its own- For I'm alone.
'Tis past! and I'm alone ! alone ! There was but one unbroken link That held me, trembling on the brink; But that is gone, And now I sink ! Alone ! alone !
A gloominess, caused by the loss of his bosom companion, settled over the life of Blythe, from which he never fully recov- ered. He became extremely careless of his dress and utterly regardless of the opinions of his fellow man.
When it was the custom to hold " Big Musters" to which the militia would turn out and make a great military display by a grand parade and sham battle, some of the officers on these occasions had the appearance of " really live soldiers " when " The high cockade they did put on To follow the boys with
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the fife and drum." It was in commemoration of one of thes occasions that Blythe wrote the following :
UNIONTOWN'S BIG PARADE.
A year or so has passed away Since Waynesburg had that holiday. It was a sweet one too, they say, But Uniontown's late grand display Knocked poor old Greene as cold as clay. In all except the bugs.
It was a glorious treat to sit And watch from some high parapet The gathering in of old Fayette With drum and fife and bayonet, And waving plume and epaulet And neighing steed and crimson sash And loud, shrill trump and golden flash Of the solger buttons.
No base, unfeeling drop of blood In all Fayette dared that day flood A single vein, for brotherhood- Warm, social, free-seemed understood 'Tween citizen, soldier, every one E'en down to the candidate.
War's glorious circumstance was made More glorious ; for the whole brigade, Rag tag and bobtail, all displayed, Whether on or off parade, Enough to prove that they would wade To their knees in blood if necessary.
Had poor Napoleon Only known In time what old Fayette could do, His great big fight at Waterloo Would have been postponed a year or two That he might visit our review And get a few items.
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Then Wellington's proud British crew, With all his allied forces, too, Before the red and white and blue, Would have fled precipitately.
The gallant brigadier displayed With modest mien the power he swayed, Seemed half unconscious that his station Placed him foremost in the nation ; Or that the destinies of the land Lay in the hollow of his hand. And so with each distinguished " aid," Whate'er his calibre or grade, His military fortune's made Over the left shoulder.
The exercises in the field At once the glorious truth revealed That every throbbing breast concealed Germs of the selfsame fire that steeled Mad Anthony's troops.
Had Uncle Sam that day applied For aid, or Justice asked a shield From a foreign foe, Or had a South Carolinian squealed You would have seen the Frenchman peeled In about a half a second.
The mimic battle scene was grand. Fought, too, about as well as planned ; And sketched by some historian hand, Would most inevitably brand The monstrous intellect that spanned Its mighty outline
With immortality.
The spirit that each onset brought With fierce contamination fraught Had but to move and it was caught And carried like blue streaks of thought
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From man to man, until its hot, Infectious breathing made a Scot Of everything in the neighborhood.
The day will only be forgot When time and tide and death have wrought Salvation out for those who fought And bled and died, and sweat and swore And tore their shirts.
Thus passed the day-the sun went down, And with it went the troops from town; And some who washed their spirits down Went home with a brick in their hats. -BOOTS.
Upon being invited to write a few verses in a young lady's souvenir album Blythe penned the following :
" An album should be a record of pledges ; A storehouse where friendship deposits its treasures : Each thought it contains be as pure as its pages, Regardless of rhyme, punctuation or measure.
Each writer who traces such pages as these Must bear in remembrance that every line Should contain nothing more than the mirror'd decrees Of his heart, be they vicious or be they divine.
Selections stolen from the productions of others, However appropriate, rich or refined, Come cold to the reader and frequently smother What few sparks of friendship may linger behind."
In another young lady's album he wrote the following:
" To Louisa : When Eve went out from Eden's bowers, No longer worthy there, She snatched a bunch of Eden's flowers, And wove them in her hair.
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The gentle dews of heaven met And kissed them one by one, ' Till they became a chaplet For virtue's brow alone.
This wreath, this chaplet, this crown, By nature willed to thee, Fair lady wear and hand it down All virgin purity.
Then when death has set you free, With all thy sins forgiven, This crown, this chaplet, shall be Thy passport into heaven."
Blythe was evidently in a serious mood when he penned the following thoughts :
" When brightest hopes are fading fast, And Time his heavy hand is laying Upon our heads in eager grasp: When 'round our wrinkled brow are playing The white locks of age and sorrow, ' Tis then, ah yes, and only then We view the past, and fain would ask A moment of it back again."
On bidding adieu to a lady friend he wrote :
" Though fate, my girl, may bid us part, Sweet recollections dare not sever That cord which she around my heart Hath twined so 't should remain for ever.
The thousand folds that she hath wrapt, And doubly interwoven 'round it, If by the hand of absence snapt, ' Twere better she had never bound it.
A tie thus sweetly bound, if broken, No bungling hand can e'er renew it. Such knot once tied, or word once spoken, What hand or tongue would dare undo it?
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But should this parting be our last, This flame its last bright glow be given, Save all the fragments of the past And we'll rekindle it in heaven."
The following was written when memories of sweet by-gone days came fresh to his mind :
TO " M."
" There was a time "Lang syne " gone by ; A time that may return no more, When M, with a love lit eye, A trembling hand and half-breathed sigh Tapt gently, gently, at my door.
A spirit finger scarce could smite The panel with a softer touch, And yet St. Paul's at dead of night, With all her wealth of brazen might, Ne'er woke, no never, half so much.
She came not there as others came, Wrapt in habiliments of guile, But with a thought unknown to shame, A hope, a heart, pure as her name, All mirrored, mirrored in a smile.
Her mission there was holier far Than gossip-tongue might wish to own, She knew not what it was to war With passion's ever varying star, Or kneel to aught but virtue's throne.
True, I have kissed her cherry lips And pressed her warm heart close to mine ; But love sometimes invites to sip A cup which prudence dare not dip E'en though the fount be wine, pure wine.
But ah, those happy days have flown, And like dim shadows on the floor,
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Gaunt memory sketches, one by one, Remembrance of things by-gone For ever, ever, evermore." " BOOTS."
While enjoying the beauty and grandeur of nature and the freedom of his own thoughts he penned the following:
A SCRAP.
" I stood upon a pebbly shore, Where many a bubble floated by, And wondered if the hues they wore Were borrowed from the sky.
A thousand idle thoughts went 'round, Some, someone's else and some my own
Until a little flower came down And lodged against the pebble stone.
Awhile its tender petals kept A close embrace around the stone,
And as the eddying current swept It kissed the pebbles one by one.
There seemed an omen in the thing Of meeting this, a little flower,
Flung out upon fate's trembling wing The sportive victim of an hour.
I knelt me down upon the shore And, govern'd by an envious thought, I reached and brought the flower o'er And placed it next my throbbing heart."
Blythe evidently was immersed in deep and solemn thought when he penned
A PEN SKETCH OF A DRUNKARD.
" The sun has set; and by broad pewter clouds The gloaming of a snorting winter eve Is hurried. Nakedness over the unleafed
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And shapeless universe of creation Strides out with undisputed sway And with her reaching frost-bit fingers writes December upon all creation.
Out from the cold, blank emptiness Of a drunkard's home slowly and hushed as A gnome-shade vomited from the green pestilent Stomach of a sepulchre, comes forth a thing The suppliant tongue of charity might Hesitate to call a man.
Not far his wayward feet have wended till Hot-breathed temptation stands, woe eyed In his path, with bloodshot window Winking him a welcome.
(Enters a groggery.)
Darkness, not the kind of darkness God Swaths sweltering universes in, but that Gray, sightless, rayless, starless, soulless And would to Heaven we could say sinless Darkness that dements and demoralizes And thickens up with each repeated Demonizing draft, such is the darkness Reigning here, potent, unquestioned and he, A thing, chained down to such subserviency As dogs cringe for to those who feed them.
Beneath a lamp whose all intenseless ray Like idiot gaze flung on a gaping crowd, Recognizing nothing it reveals, he sits Dozing to waste the God-bought hours his great Indebtedness makes precious. His eyes, like angry, ill closed, half-healed Wounds, physicianless, and chuck like blood-dip't Violets mirrored 'gainst the broad, blue sky Painting a thousand many colored hues Defying Jove himself, with pencil laved In hot-life's liquid essence. But see ! He wakes; and, like the raven on the pallid Bust of Pallas, falls the light in yellow
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Flakes upon his livid cheek, simmering On his parched, disfigured face, Made such by his own debauchery."
Blythe, doubtless, was quietly sitting by a pure mountain stream which danced and sparkled at his feet, while the rays of the rising sun were reflected from the dew-drops as myriads of beautiful gems, and while away from temptation, his soul was free to hold communion with nature, who with lavish hand had scattered freshness, purity and beauty everywhere. From the murmur of that stream he hears in musical tones "this is the cup that God has provided to quench the thirst of man and beast." His thoughts were naturally led from nature to nature's pure and holy God who hath said that no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of heaven. Then as he turns his thoughts to the deep depravity of human nature and views the most pitiable object, he throws aside his pencil, takes up his pen, and while under the inspiration of the moment, wrote the following ter- rible truths, which, it is earnestly hoped, may be timely warning to many young men who would be saved from
THE DRUNKARD'S DOOM. BY " BOOTS."
Did'st ever seriously think How awful is the drunkard's doom? Trace, step by step, and drink by drink, Until he sees his body sink Into its loathsome tomb.
At first he takes his morning cup Of "tansy bitters " or of " bark " 'Till, by and by, the nauseous sup Grown sweet, begins to wake him up With the early morning lark.
Then comes the 'cursed " occasional " glass With some "right-rare good fellow." Whose growing appetite-alas, Will scarcely let an evening pass Without becoming "mellow."
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Soon midnight finds him lingering still In some grog-seller's stall, When every time he takes a swill A " fip " goes clink in the landlord's till, Or a score on the greasy wall.
Go to his wretched home, and there Where love and peace and joy Once sat and laughed in the face of care, And you'll find nothing left but the hopeless stare Of his heartbroken wife and boy.
The rest's soon told-crime's putrid wave Soon sweeps him from the earth, His wife's in heaven, his boy a slave, Himself in a forgotten grave, His soul in hell.
While some of Blythe's productions in verse possessed considerable merit, he wrote much that was groveling, and some that otherwise would have been creditable, was marred by the use of slang.
David G. Blythe died in Pittsburgh May 15, 1865, and his remains were taken to East Liverpool and interred in the family burial lot.
BLYTHE'S PANORAMA OF THE ALLEGHENY MOUNTAINS.
Blythe, for years, had contemplated the execution of a grand panorama by which he might display upon canvas the magnificent works of nature and places of historic interest with which our mountains are so bountifully supplied. He spent a month or more of several summers in sketching for this work, the scenes of which were to begin in Albemarle county, Vir- ginia and extend to the Ligonier valley in Pennsylvania.
Each scene in this panorama covered a canvas seven by fifteen feet in size and, among others, represented the following scenes : Monticello, the beautiful home of Thomas Jefferson ; the tomb of Jefferson; Charlottesville in the distance; the Natural Bridge; scenes on the Potomac; Harper's Ferry, etc. Then commencing at Cumberland, it followed the route pursued by Colonel George Washington when on his expedition against
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