Lightning Man_ The Accursed Life of Samuel F. B. Morse - Kenneth Silverman [200]
Morse and Sarah returned home in May to a surprise gala reception. Citizens of Poughkeepsie had not had the opportunity to express their pride in his contribution to the first oceanic transmission and his indemnity from the nations of Europe. They did so now. Hundreds of cheering townspeople met him and Sarah at the railroad station and followed them in carriages and on foot through town, amid ringing bells, waving flags, and schoolchildren let out for the day. As the procession reached the flower-wreathed gateways of Locust Grove, a band struck up “Sweet Home” and “Auld Lang Syne.”
After Morse’s ten-month absence, the house needed painting and puttying to become livable again, and a huge unanswered correspondence had accumulated. Feeling at first rather overwhelmed, he remained aglow over the indemnity, and even brightened as unexpected honors arrived from Europe. The Swedish Royal Academy of Sciences presented him with a diploma; the Portuguese government bestowed on him both its Cross of the Order of Christ and its Ancient and Noble Order of the Tower and Sword; the Queen of Spain made him Knight Commander (Cavaliero Commandador)of the 1st Class of the Order of Isabel the Catholic(!). He wrote to Madrid inquiring whether the form of address appropriate to the Order was “Your Excellence.”
Homage poured in from America, too. Morse was made an honorary member of the New-York Historical Society, the Irving Literary Institute, the National Photographic Association, and the Washington Art Association. The New York Institution for the Deaf and Dumb, where Sarah had been a pupil, appointed him an Honorary Director; the Century Club elected him to membership, alongside John Jacob Astor, Jr., and the financier August Belmont. His patronage in great demand, he was sought for the presidency of the American Geographical and Statistical Society, asked to help organize a National Gallery of Art in Washington, invited to speak before the American Institute of Architects, as “a pioneer in the cause of Art Education.” In at least one case, he again learned that his honors attracted not only do-gooders but also exploiters. Having agreed to serve as titular president of the Morse Insurance Company, he detected “suspicious doings” among his colleagues and hastily resigned.
Morse’s $80,000 indemnity also beckoned. To his horror and disbelief, F. O. J. Smith claimed a contractual five-sixteenths interest in the amount, a third of which had already gone to the Paris agent Van den Broek. In Morse’s view the money represented not payment but a gratuity, an award bestowed particularly on him, personally, “as a mark of Honor.” Although accustomed to Smith’s outrageous demands, this new one for some $16,000 startled him. “I cannot think you serious,” he wrote to Smith. “I do not consider you either legally or equitably entitled to any share in any Testimonial.” Smith at least agreed to have the issue arbitrated. Once again Morse collected documents and drew up lengthy briefs to support his case. “I have no apprehensions of the result,” he told Kendall; “no intelligent just men could give a judgment against me, or in his favor.”
The arbitration hearing, held in Boston, turned on the meaning of “otherwise.” According to their 1838 contract, Smith would share in any profits that Morse earned in Europe by the sale of patent rights or “otherwise.” The three referees judged Morse’s indemnity an “otherwise.” They awarded Smith five-sixteenths, after deducting Morse’s expenses and payment to Van den Broek. Even so, Smith quibbled with Morse over the deductions and demanded interest on the award for the time it had been withheld from him. Morse scoffed at the decision as based on a legal technicality: “I ought, perhaps, with my experience to