Fenimore Cooper in Cooperstown
Paper presented at the Eighteenth Annual Meeting of the New York State Historical Association, October 3-5, 1916, Cooperstown, New York. .
Published in Proceedings of the New York State Historical Association, Vol. XVI (1917), pp. 137-139.
Placed online with the kind authorization of the New York State Historical Association.
[May be reproduced for instructional use by individuals or institutions; commercial use prohibited.]
Rev. Ralph Birdsall was Rector of Christ Episcopal Church, Cooperstown, from 1903-1918, and author of The Story of Cooperstown (Cooperstown: The Arthur H. Crist Co., 1917) (frequently reprinted). He was an ardent collector of Cooperstown local history, from both written and oral sources, and while he rarely documented his many anecdotes they remain an important source on how James Fenimore Cooper has been perceived in his home town. Many of these anecdotes Birdsall took from previous written sources; and not a few have been repeated elsewhere. I have inserted a few annotations, enclosed in {curly braces}.
— Hugh C. MacDougall (James Fenimore Cooper Society)
The childhood memories of James Fenimore Cooper were associated with the village which his father had settled at the foot of Otsego lake, for hither he was brought, a babe in arms, and remained until, at the age of nine years, he was sent to Albany to be tutored. After his career at Yale and in the Navy he was married in 1811, and brought his bride to Cooperstown on their honeymoon. Three years later they came back to take up their residence at Fenimore, just out of the village, on Otsego lake, but, after three seasons of farming, circumstances again drew Fenimore Cooper away from Cooperstown.
It was in 1834, when he had become a novelist of international fame, and had lived for seven years in Europe, that Cooper, at the age of forty-five years, took steps to make a permanent home in the village of his childhood. Otsego Hall, which his father had built upon the site now marked by the statue of the Indian Hunter, in the Cooper grounds, was repaired and partly remodeled, and here Fenimore Cooper dwelt until his death in 1851.
{In 1940 the Indian Hunter statue was removed to the Lakefront Part, and replaced by the present statue of James Fenimore Cooper by Victor Salvatore}
While the alterations of Otsego Hall were in progress Cooper had as his guest in Cooperstown Samuel F. B. Morse, who assisted him in carrying out his ideas for the reconstruction of the hall, and drew the designs which gave it more the style of an English country house. The local gossips said that Morse aspired to the hand of his friend’s eldest daughter, Susan Augusts Fenimore, then twenty-one years of age, but that Cooper had no mind to yield so fair a prize to an impecunious painter, a widower, and already forty-three years old. Morse was at this time experimenting with the telegraph instrument which was afterward to bring him wealth and such fame as an inventor as to overshadow his reputation as an artist.
The Cooper grounds, now kept as a public park by the Clark estates, include the property that belonged to Fenimore Cooper. Otsego Hall, which was destroyed by fire in 1852, after the novelist’s death, must be imagined at the center of the grounds, where its outward appearance, as well as the arrangement of its interior, may be reconstructed by the fancy from the wooden model made from a design by G. Pomeroy Keese, and now to be seen in the village museum.
{Otsego Hall burned in October 1853}
When in 1834 the old mansion of the founder of Cooperstown thus began once more to be occupied it was a matter of great interest to the people of the village. Many of them well remembered Fenimore Cooper and his bride when, twenty years before, they had lived at Fenimore. They recalled the former resident, however, as James Cooper, for it was not until 1826 that he adopted the middle name in compliance with a request which his mother had made that he should use her family name. 1 Twenty years had made many changes in Cooperstown, and there was a large proportion of residents who knew Fenimore Cooper only from his writings and by reputation. Therefore when he came back to dwell in the home of his youth he was regarded by many almost as a newcomer in the neighborhood, and to his family as well as himself a rather cautious welcome was given. It had to be admitted at the outset that the changes which Fenimore Cooper made in Otsego Hall were disapproved by some of the villagers. They did not like the foreign air which the old house now began to give itself with battlements and gothic elaborations. Here was the first muttering of the storm that clouded the later years of Fenimore Cooper.
Cooper’s personal appearance was in accord with the strong individuality of his character. He was of massive form, six feet in height, over two hundred pounds in weight and rather portly in later years, of firm and aristocratic bearing; a commanding figure; “a very castle of a man” was the phrase which Washington Irving applied to him. The bust 2 made by David d’Angers in Paris in 1828 gives to Cooper a classic splendor of head and countenance whnich is in agreement with the impression produced upon those who well remembered him. He had a full, expansive forehead, strong features, florid completion, a mouth firm without harshness, and clear gray eyes. His head, which was set firmly and proudly upon giant shoulders, had a peculiar and incessant oscillating motion. His expressive eyes also were singularly volatile in their movement — seldom at perfect rest. He was always clean shaven, so that nothing was lost of the changes of expression that animated his mobile face in conversation. He had a hearty frankness of manner, which Bryant says startled him at first, but which he came at last to like and to admire. Cooper was a great talker. His voice was agreeable sonorous. He talked well, and with infinite resource. He could dash into animated conversation on almost any subject, and was not slow to express decided opinions in which at times he almost demanded acquiescence. His earnestness was often mistaken for brusqueness and violence; “for,” says Lounsbury, “he was, in some measure, of that class of men who appear to be excited when they are only interested.” He created a strong impression of vigor, intelligence, impulsiveness, vivacity and manliness.
{The David d’Angers bust is now in the Cooper Room of the Fenimore Art Museum, inn Cooperstown}
When walking Cooper usually carried a stick but never for support. In his last years he carried a small, slender walking stick of polished wood, having a carved handle, and too short for any purpose but to flourish in the hands. As he walked briskly along the village street, erect, and with expanded chest, this slender stick was often held horizontally across his back with his arms skewered behind it, while at his heels a pet dog trotted, a little black mongrel called “Frisk.” In returning from the walk which proved to be his last he stopped at Edgewater, then the home of his niece, and, on leaving, forgot to take his stick. There it has remained, through the years that have passed since his death, just as he left it, hanging by its curved handle from a shelf of one of the bookcases in the library.
During this residence in Cooperstown, Fenimore Cooper wrote some twenty of his novels, his “Naval History,” the “Chronicles of Cooperstown,” besides many sketches of travel and articles contributed to magazines. This prodigious amount of writing, together with many other activities, made his life a full one. He rose early, and a considerable portion of his writing was accomplished before breakfast. In summer hardly a day passed without a visit to the Chalet farm, on the east side of the lake, where he sought relaxation from his mental labors. Accordingly, at about eleven o’clock, he might be seen issuing from the gate of his residence in a wagon, driving a tall sorrel home named Pumpkin. This animal was ill-suited to the dignity of his driver. He had a singularity of gait which consisted in occasionally going on three legs, and at times elevating both hind legs in a manner rather amusing than alarming; often he persisted in backing when urged to go forward, and always his emotions were expressed by the switching of his very light wisp of a tail. Mrs. Cooper was most frequently Mr. Cooper’s companion on these daily excursions, although often the eldest daughter took the place in the vehicle by her father’s side.
In the late afternoon Cooper usually devoted some time to the composition of his novels, without touching pen to paper. It was his custom to work out the scenes of his stories while promenading the large hall of his home. Here he paced to and fro in the twilight of the afternoon, his hands crossed behind his back, his brow carrying the impression of deep thought. He nodded vigorously from time to time, and muttered to himself, inventing and carrying on the conversation of his various imaginary characters. After the evening meal he put work aside and passed the time with the family, sometimes reading, often in a game of chess with Mrs. Cooper, whom, ever since their wedding day, when they played chess between the ceremony and supper, he had fondly called his “checkmate.” He never smoked, and seldom drank beyond a glass of wine which he took with his dinner.
In the early morning, when Cooper shut himself in the library, he set down on paper in its final form the portion of narrative that he had worked out while pacing the hall the previous afternoon. The library opened from the main hall and was lighted by tall, deeply recessed windows, against which he branches of the evergreens outside flung their waving shadows. The wainscoting was of dark oak, and the somber bookcases that lined the walls were of the same material. A large fireplace occupied the space between the two western windows. Across the room stood a folding screen 3 upon which had been pasted a collection of engravings representing scenes known to the family during their tour and residence in Europe, together with a number of notes and autographs from persons of distinction. Attached to the top of one of the bookcases was a huge pair of antlers 4 holding in their embrace a calabash from the southern seas.
Cooper wrote rapidly in a fine, small, clear hand, upon large sheets of foolscap, and seldom made an erasure. No company was permitted in the room while the novelist was writing except an Angora cat who was allowed to bound upon the desk without rebuke, or even to perch upon the author’s shoulders. Here the cat settled down contentedly, and with half-shut eyes watched the steady driving of the quill across the paper.
Among the many books written in this library the “Deerslayer” brought the greatest fame to Cooperstown, for it peopled the shores of Otsego lake with the creatures of Cooper’s fancy, and added to the natural beauty of its scenery the glamour of romance. The idea of writing this story came to Fenimore Cooper on a summer afternoon as he drove from the chalet homeward in his farm wagon, with his favorite daughter by his side, along the shaded road on the east shore of the lake. He was singing cheerily, for, although no musician, he often sang snatches of familiar songs that had struck his fancy, and above the rumbling of the wagon his booming voice frequently was heard along the road in a sudden burst of Burns’s “Scots wha ha’ wi’ Wallace bled!” or Moore’s “Love’s Young Dream” — always especial favorites with him. On this occasion, however, it was a political song that he was singing, a ditty then popular during the campaign of 1840 in the party opposed to his own. Suddenly he paused, as an opening in the woods revealed a charming view of the lake. His spirited gray eye rested a moment on the water, with an expression of abstracted, poetical thought, familiar to those who lived with him; then, turning to the companion at his side, he exclaimed: “I must write one more book, dearie, about our little lake!” Again his eye rested on the water and wooded shores with the far-seeing look of one who already had a vision of living figures and dusky forms moving amid the quiet scene. A moment of silence followed. Then Fenimore Cooper cracked his whip, resumed his song, with some careless chat on incidents of the day, and drove homeward. Not long afterward he shut himself in his library, and the first pages of the “Deerslayer” were written.
{This anecdote is taken, verbatim, from Susan Fenimore Cooper, Pages and Pictures from the Writings of James Fenimore Cooper (New York: W.A. Townsend and Co., 1861)}
There were perhaps many in the village who felt honored in being neighbor to a novelist of international fame. But the general sentiment toward Fenimore Cooper in his home town was not altogether created by his success as a writer. It may be that the aged Miss Nancy Williams, who lived in the house which still stands on Main street next east of the Second National Bank, was not alone in her estimate of this kind of success. Her favorite seat was at a front window where she was perpetually occupied in knitting, and watching all passers-by. Whenever Fenimore Cooper passed, whom she had known as a boy, Miss Williams called out to him, “James, why don’t you stop wasting your time writing these silly novels, and try to make something of yourself!”
{The red brick Nancy Williams house is today the Veteran’s Club building, and stands next to the Wilber National Bank}
Whatever may have been the village estimate of his fame as a novelist, there were certain personal traits in Cooper that went farther than anything he ever wrote to fix the esteem of his fellow citizens. Among friends whom he admitted as his social equals he was universally beloved; to these he showed all the charm and fascination of a gracious personality and brilliant mind. In the humbler walks of life those who habitually recognized Cooper as a superior had nothing to complain of. But there were many in Cooperstown who had no warmth of feeling toward Fenimore Cooper. They were quick to detect in him an attitude of contemptuous superiority toward the villagers. None could accuse him of indifference to the general welfare of the people of Cooperstown. He gave public lectures, and took an active part in matters that concerned the common weal. But there were many who felt that he willingly remained a stranger to them. When he passed along the street without seeing people who expected a greeting from him, his friends averred that it was because his mind, abstracted from present scenes and passers-by, was engaged in the dramatic development of some tale of sea or forest. But those who felt snubbed by his indifference were less charitable in their interpretation of his bearing toward them. Cooper had been for seven years a lion in Europe. Splendidly entertained by the Princess Galitzin in Paris, where he was overwhelmed with invitations from counts and countesses; dining at Holland House in London with Lord and Lady Holland; a guest of honor at a ball given by a prince in Rome; presented at the brilliant Tuscan court at Florence, in Italy, for which occasion he was decked in lace frills and ruff, with dress hat and sword — such incidents of his foreign life began to be mentioned to account for Cooper’s disinclination to encourage familiar acquaintance with the populace of Cooperstown.
Cooper himself was entirely unconscious of any arrogance in his attitude, and, when, in connection with the later controversies, it came to his knowledge that some villagers accused him of posing as an aristocrat in Cooperstown he resented the imputation with some bitterness. “In this part of the world,” said he, “it is thought aristocratic not to frequent taverns, and lounge at corners, squirting tobacco juice.” Cooper was strongly democratic in his convictions, and was so far from having been a toady during his residence in Europe that he had made enemies in aristocratic circles abroad by his fearless championship of democratic institutions. At the same time he was fastidiously undemocratic in many of his tastes. It is a keen observation of Lounsbury’s that Cooper was “an aristocrat in feeling, and a democrat by conviction.” His recognition of the worth of true manhood, entirely apart from rank and social refinement, is shown in the noble character of Leather Stocking. Yet the manners and customs of uncultivated people in real life were most offensive to his squeamish taste, and much of his concern for the welfare of his countrymen had to do with their neglect of the decencies and amenities of social behavior.
More than half a century after his death there were those still living in Cooperstown who frequently recalled their childhood memories of Fenimore Cooper. His tendency to lecture his neighbors on their manners was burned into the memory of a child who, as she sat on her doorstep, was engaged with the novelist in pleasant conversation, until he spied a ring which she was wearing upon the third finger of her left hand. This he made the text of a solemn lecture upon the impropriety of wearing falsely the symbol of a sacred relationship. The lesson intended was probably sensible and wholesome, but the effect produced upon the child was a terror of Fenimore Cooper which lasted as long as life. On the other hand, one who was a slip of a girl at the time used afterward to boast that Fenimore Cooper had opened a gate for her when she was riding horseback, and stood hat in hand while she passed through.
Allowance must be made for a somewhat distorted perspective in the impression produced by Cooper upon the memories of not a few children, for, judging from their reminiscences, the Garden of Eden was not more inviting than his, nor its fruits more to be desired, nor was the angel with the flaming sword more terribly vigilant than Fenimore Cooper in guarding the trees from unholy hands. The glimpses of the novelist most vivid1y remembered by these youngsters relate to attempted invasions of the orchard near his home, and their furious repulse by the irascible owner, who charged upon them with loud objurgations and a flourishing stick. One who picked a rose without permission long remembered the “awful” lecture which Cooper gave her, and how he said, “It is just as bad to take my flowers as to steal my money.”
Among the children of his own friends there was quite a different opinion of Cooper. Elihu Phinney, who was a playmate of the novelist’s son Paul, and a frequent guest at Otsego Hall, always had an intense admiration for the author of the Leather Stocking Tales, although he long remembered a lesson in table manners by which, on one of these visits, his host had startled him. At dinner young Elihu passed his plate with knife and fork upon it for a second supply, when from the head of the table came this reprimand: “My boy, never leave your implements on the plate. You might drop knife or fork in a lady’s lap. Take them both firmly in your left hand, and hold them until your plate is returned.” Half a century afterward Elihu Phinney declared that, whatever the ruling of etiquette might be in this matter, he had never since failed to heed this bit of advice from Fenimore Cooper.
Another child who found in Cooper a genial friend was Caroline Foote, who afterward became Mrs. G. Pomeroy Keese. She was a, frequent visitor at Otsego Hall, where the novelist made much of her, and when she was thirteen years old he wrote some original verses in her autograph album, at her request, concluding with these lines:
In after life, when thou shalt grow
To womanhood, and learn to feel
The tenderness the aged know
To guide their children’s weal,
Then wilt thou bless with bended knee
Some smiling child as I bless thee.
Encouraged by this success, Caroline Foote afterward asked Cooper to write some verses for her schoolmate, Julia Bryant, daughter of William Cullen Bryant, who was a warm friend of the novelist. With his young petitioner by his side Cooper sat at the old desk in the library of Otsego Hall and laughingly dashed off these lines:
Charming young lady, Miss Julia by name
Your friend little Cally your wishes proclaim;
Read this, and you’ll soon learn to know it,
I’m not your papa the great lyric poet.
On the western shore of Otsego lake there is a low, wooded tongue of land which projects for a short distance into the water, and is called, in reference to its distance from Cooperstown, Three-mile point. This has been a favorite resort for picnics and other outings of villagers since 1822. When Fenimore Cooper took up his residence in the village in 1834, after his return from Europe, he found that the free use of Three-mile point by the public had given rise to the notion that it was owned by the community. This impression he took pains to correct, saying that while he had no desire to prevent the public from resorting to the point, he wished it clearly understood that it was owned by the descendants of Judge William Cooper, of whose will he was executor. A defiant attitude toward his claim, and the destruction of a tree at Three-mile point afterward led Cooper to publish a warning against all tresspassing [sic] upon the property.
Immediately upon the publication of this notice, a hand bill was put into circulation, which, in sarcastic terms, called for a public meeting of protest. “The citizens of the Village of Cooperstown,” it ran, “are requested to meet at the Inn of Isaac Lewis, in said Village, this evening, at 7 o’clock, to take means to meet, and defend against the arrogant pretensions of one James Fenimore Cooper, claiming title to the Three-Mile Point, and denying to the citizens the right of using the same, as they have been accustomed to from time immemorial, without being indebted to the LIBERALITY of any one man, whether native or foreigner.”
The meeting was held, and stirring speeches were made. A series of resolutions was passed, following a preamble setting forth the facts as understood by the meeting of citizens:
Resolved, By the aforesaid citizens that we will wholly disregard the notice given by James F. Cooper, forbidding the public to frequent the Three-mile point.
Resolved, That inasmuch as it is well known that the late William Cooper intended the use of the point in question for the citizens of this village, we deem it no more than a proper respect for the memory and intentions of the father, that the son should recognize the claim of the citizens to the use of the premises, even had he the power to deny it.
Resolved, That we will hold his threat to enforce title to the premises, as we do his conduct in relation to the matter, in perfect contempt.
Resolved, That the language and conduct of Cooper, in his attempts to procure acknowledgments of “liberality,” and his attempts to force the citizens into asking his permission to use the premises, has been such as to render himself odious to a greater portion of the citizens of this community.
Resolved, That we do recommend and request the trustees of the Franklin Library. in this village, to remove all books, of which Cooper is the author, from said library.
Resolved also, That we will and do denounce any man as sycophant, who has, or shall, ask permission of James F. Cooper to visit the point in question.
It was said that the meeting resolved to take Cooper’s books from the library and burn them at a public bonfire in the street of the village, but if so, this proposal did not appear in the resolution as finally drafted.
The actual point at issue in this controversy was soon settled. In a letter to the Freeman’s Journal, Cooper showed that his father’s will, drawn up in 1808, made a particular devise of Three-mile point-to all his descendants in common until the year 1850; then to be inherited by the youngest thereof bearing his name.
But the results of the controversy were far-reaching. They gave rise to Cooper’s unfortunate book “Home as Found,” and to the long series of libel suits.
The occasion of the suits was the publication in august 1837, in the Otsego Republican, a Cooperstown newspaper, now merged in the Otsego Farmer, of an article copied from the Norwich Telegraph, in which Cooper was roundly abused in reference to the Three-mile point controversy, and to which the Republican added comments of its own, repeating the disproved statement that the father of the novelist had reserved the point for the use of the inhabitants of the village. Cooper sued the editor of the Republican, for libel, and in 1839, at the final trial, the jury returned a verdict of four hundred dollars for the plaintiff. Cooper sued also the Norwich Telegraph, and when other newspapers took the side of their associates be entered suit promptly against any that published libellous [sic] statements. In this way one suit lead to another, until Cooper was bringing action against the leading Whig journals of New York State, including the Courier and Inquirerof New York, edited by James Watson Webb; the Commercial Advertiserof New York, edited by Col. William L. Stone; the Tribune, edited by Horace Greeley; and the Albany Evening Journal, edited by Thurlow Weed. Colonel Stone, Thurlow Weed and Watson Webb were former residents of Cooperstown, the two first named having each served an apprenticeship as printer in the office of the Freeman’s Journal. Weed was recognized as the leader of the Whig party in the nation, and his newspaper was correspondingly important. He was Cooper’s most persistent opponent, and in 1841 the novelist had commenced five suits against him for various articles published in the Evening Journal. It is a curious fact that Weed was noted as a bigoted [sic] admirer of his adversary’s novels. Weed himself afterward related that when about to leave Albany by stagecoach to attend one of these trials, and inquiring at the booksellers for some late publications to read on the journey, he was informed that the only new book was the “Two Admirals,” which had just been issued. “I took the book,” said Weed, “and soon became so absorbed that I had hardly any time or thought for the trial, through which the author who charmed me was trying to push me to the wall.”
The libel suits extended over the period from 1838 to 1844. Cooper acted almost wholly as his own lawyer, and argued his own eases in court. He was -pitted against leaders of the bar in the greatest State in the Union. He had become personally unpopular, and was engaged in an unpopular cause. He won his verdicts from reluctant juries; but, in every ease, he won. The libel law of the State of New York was made, to a great extent, by the Fenimore Cooper cases.
{Cooper’s libel suits have been exhaustively examined in Ethel R. Outland, The “Effingham” Libels on Cooper (Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Studies in Language and Literature, No. 28, 1929). The oft-repeated suggestion that Cooper “made” New York libel law is probably considerable overstated.}
Cooper’s reputation as an author suffered from his success as a litigant in an unpopular cause, and his prosecution of the libel suits injured the sale of his books, not only then, but for some years after his death. In 1844, just after Cooper had reduced the newspapers of the State to silence, Edward Everett Hale visited Cooperstown, and says that when he tried to buy a copy of the “Pioneers” at a local bookstore, the dealer coolly declared that he had never heard of the book.
While public attention was engaged by the libel suits, Cooper was occupied with much else. It was during this period that he published his important Naval History, besides ten of his novels. Nor was there any loss of interest in his various avocations, among which, in 1840, he found time to plan and supervise extensive alterations in Christ Church, of which he was a vestry-man. With his mind full of the Gothic splendor of churches that he had seen in England, he set out to beautify the village church at home. The broad windows with rounded tops he caused to be somewhat narrowed, and pointed, in the fashion usually described as Gothic. Traces of this change still appear in the exterior brick work of the church, for the outline of the original windows has never been obliterated. The interior he caused to be entirely remodeled and finished in native oak. The oaken screen-work which he erected, although somewhat altered, is still to be seen in the church — “a screen that I trust, though it may have no influence on my soul,” so he wrote to Harmanus Bleecker, “will carry my name down to posterity. It is really a pretty thing — pure Gothic, and is the wonder of the country round.”
It seems strange that one whose writings evince so strong an orthodoxy of Christian faith, with a championship of churchly doctrines too rigid for many of his readers, did not himself become a communicant of the church until the last year of his life. On Sunday, July 27, 1851, Bishop deLancey visited Christ Church, Cooperstown, and among those to whom he administered the sacrament of confirmation was his brother-in-law, James Fenimore Cooper. The novelist’s family pew was one which stood sidelong at the right of the chancel. He had by this time become quite infirm, and the bishop, after receiving the other candidates at the sanctuary rail, left the chancel, and ministered confirmation to Fenimore Cooper kneeling in his own pew.
Fenimore Cooper died, less than two months later, on Sunday, September 14, 1851, aged sixty-two years lacking one day. The body lay in state at Otsego Hall, and on Wednesday the funeral service was held in Christ Church, the interment being made in the Cooper plot of Christ churchyard. This grave, covered by the prostrate slab of marble marked by a cross, and bearing an inscription which sets forth nothing beyond the novelist’s name, with dates of birth and death, has become a shrine of literary pilgrimage. The hurried tourist is disappointed in not being greeted by some conspicuous monument to beckon him at once to the famous tomb, but a more genuine tribute to the novelist’s memory appears when the stranger’s eye lights upon the path leading from the gate of the inclosure, and deeply worn in the sod by the feet of wayfarers in many a long journey, through the years, to Cooper’s grave.
Notes
1 In 1826 he applied to the Legislature to change his name to James Cooper Fenimore, since there were no men of his mother’s family to continue the name. The request was not granted, but the change was made to James Fenimore-Cooper. He soon dropped the hyphen. [Note by Hugh C. MacDougall: the Legislature authorized Cooper to add “Fenimore” as a middle name; there is no hard evidence that Cooper sought to be known as “James Cooper Fenimore.”]
2 Now at Fynmere, the home built by the novelist’s grandson, James Fenimore Cooper. [Note by Hugh C. MacDougall: Fynmere was later demolished; the bust is now in the Cooper Room of the Fenimore Art Museum in Cooperstown]
3 Now at Fynmere. [Note by Hugh C. MacDougall: The screen (along with a matching screen with other pictures) is now in the Cooper Room of the Fenimore Art Museum in Cooperstown.]
4 Now at Edgewater. [Note by Hugh C. MacDougall: The brick mansion built by Isaac Cooper on Lake Street; present location of the antlers is unknown.]
