naturally, greatly incensed at this slur cast upon them, and an indignant
and remarkably able reply appeared anonymously in the New York "Evening
Post." The authorship of this article was at once saddled on Morse, who
was known to wield a facile and fearless pen. Mr. Adams took great
offense, and, as a result, Morse's name was rejected and his great
opportunity passed him by. There can be no reasonable doubt that, had he
received this commission, he would have deferred the perfecting of his
telegraphic device until others had so far distanced him in the race that
he could never have overtaken them.

Instead of his having been the author of the "Evening Post" article, it
transpired that he had not even heard of Mr. Adams's resolution until his
friend Fenimore Cooper, the real author of the answer, told him of both
attack and reply.

This was the second great tragedy of Morse's life; the first was the
untimely death of his young wife, and this other marked the death of his
hopes and ambitions as an artist. He was stunned. The blow was as
unexpected as it was overwhelming, and what added to its bitterness was
that it had been innocently dealt by the hand of one of his dearest
friends, who had sought to render him a favor. The truth came out too
late to influence the decision of the committee; the die was cast, and
his whole future was changed in the twinkling of an eye; for what had
been to him a joy and an inspiration, he now turned from in despair. He
could not, of course, realize at the time that Fate, in dealing him this
cruel blow, was dedicating him to a higher destiny. It is doubtful if he
ever fully realized this, for in after years he could never speak of it
unmoved. In a letter to this same friend, Fenimore Cooper, written on
November 20, 1849, he thus laments:--