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Full text of "The life of Horace Greeley, editor of the New York Tribune"

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THE LIFE 



OF 



HORACE GREELEY, 



EDITOR OF "THE NEW-YORK TRIBUNE," 



FROM HIS BIRTH TO THE PRESENT TIME. 



By JAMES PARTON. 



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BOSTON: 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY./ 
®()e Etbcrfiiie Prcfie, CambriUffe. / 
1889. 



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THE NEW YOT^K 
PUBLIC LIBRARY 

7425(n 

fi.irnn, lenox ano 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 187a. 
Bv JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO^ 
. . In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



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CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER L 

EASLY CHILDHOOD. 

PAOB 

rhe Village of Amherst. — Character of the Adjacent Country. — The Greeley 
Farm. — The Tribune In the Room in which its Editor was born. — Horace 
learns to read. — Book up-side down. — Goes to School in Londondeny. — A 
District School Forty Years Ago. — Horace as a Young Orator. — Has a ^la.iia 
for spelling Hard Words. — Gets great Glory at the Spclling-S::hoo',.— Rocul- 
lections of his surviving School-Fellows. — His Future Emineiice foretuld. — 
Delicacy of Ear. —Early Choice of a Trade. — His Coura2C,an(; TJaiidity.— 
Goes to School in Bedford. — A Favorite among his Schrol-t"e'iows. — His 
early Fondness for the Village Newspaper. — Lies in AmcjsU for the Post- 
Eider who brought it. — Scours the Country for Books." — -Proiect of sending 
him to an Academy. — The Old Sea-Captain. — Horace'a&fa Farmer's Boy. — 
Let asdoourStintflrst— HisWay of Fishing 



■ \ ..\ 



CHAPTER n. 



HIS FATHER RUINED. — REMOVAL TO VERMONT. 

Vew Hampshire before the Era of Manufactures. — Causes of his Father's Failure. 
— Rum in the Olden Time. — An Execution In the House. — Flight of the 
Father. — Horace and the Rum-.Tug. — Compromise with the Creditors.— 
Removal to another Farm. — Final Uiiin. — Removal to Vermont. — The Win- 
ter Joun\cy. — Poverty of the Family. — Scene at their X ew Home. — Cheer- 
fulness in Misfortune It 

iii 



*; 



I* p 



iv CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER m. 

AT WE8THAVEN, VEBMONT. 

PAGB 

Description of the Country.— Clearing np Land. — All the Family assist d la 
Swiss-Family Bobinson. — Primitive Costume of Horace. — His Early Indiffer- 
ence to Dress. — His Manner and Attitude in School. — A Peacemaker among 
theBoys. — Gets into a Scrape, and out of it. — Assists his School-Fellows in 
their Studies. — An Evening Scene at Home.— Horace knows too much. — 
Disconcerts his Teachers by his Questions. —Leaves School. — The Pine-Knots 
still blaze on the Hearth. — Reads incessantly. — Becomes a great Draught- 
Player. — Bee-Hunting. — Beads at the Mansion House. — Taken for an Idiot — 
And for a possible President. — Beads Mrs. Hemanswith Eapture. — A 'Wolf 
Story. — A Pedestrian Journey. — Horace and the Horseman. — Yoking the 
Oxen. — Scene with an Old Soaker. — Bum in Westhaven. — Horace's First 
Pledge. — Narrow Escape from Drowning. — His Beligious Doubts. — Becomes 
a Universalist — Discovers the Humbug of " Democracy." — Impatient to 
begin bis Apprenticeship 23 



CHAPTER IV. 



„.. APPEENTICE8HIP. 

rhe ViUage of East Poultney. — Horace applies for the Place. — Scene in the Gar- 
',^ 'y dsn?— He'maSes an Impression. — A Difficulty arises and is overcome. — He 
* enters ttfe-ftgipe. — Bite of Initiation. — Horace the Victor. — His Employer's 
Eecollfectiwis pf tiiln. — The Pack of Cards. — Horace begins to paragraph. — 
Joins the. Debatiiig' Society. —His Manner of Debating. — Horace and the 
Dandy. — His^Clile Conduct to his Father. — His First Glimpse of Saratoga. 
— His Mann«r3"at tee Table. — Becomes the Town Encyclopedia. — The Doc- 
tor's Story. — Eecollections of One of his FeUow-Apprentices.- Horace's 
Favorite Poe^s. — Politics of the Time. — The Anti-Mason Excitement — The 
HorthemSpectatorstojJS.— The Apprentice Is Free 48 









CHAPTER V. 



HE WANDBBB. 



Horace leaves Poultney. — His First Overcoat — Home to his Father's Log-House. 
— Kanges the Country for Work. — The Sore Leg cured. — Gets Employment, 
but little Money. — Astonishes the Draught-Players. — Goes to Erie, Pa. — In- 
terview with an Editor. — Becomes a Journeyman in the Office. — Description 

of Erie. — The Lake. — His Generosity to his Father. —His New Clothes 

No more Work at Erie. — Starts for New York la 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VI. 



ABRIVAL IN NEW YORK, 

PAGE 

rbe Journey. — A NJght on the Tow-Path. — He reaches the City. — Inventory of 
his Property. — Looks for a Boardlng-IIouse. — Finds One. — Expends half his 
Capital upon Clothes. —Searches for Employment. — Berated by David Hale 
as a Runaway Apprentice. — Continues the Search. — Goes to Church. — Hears 

of a Vacancy. — Obtains Work. — The Boss takes him for a ' Fool,' but 

changes his opinion. — Nicknamed 'The Ghost.' — Practical Jokes. — Horace 
metamorphosed. — Dispute about Commas. — The Shoemaker's Boarding- 
House. — Grand Banquet on Sundays 64 



CHAPTER Vn. 



FROM OFFICE TO OFFICE. 

Leaves West's. — Works on the ' Evening Post.' — Story of Mr. Leggett. — ' Com- 
mercial Advertiser.' — 'Spirit of the Times.' — Specimen of his Writing at this 
Period. — Naturally Fond of the Drama. — Timothy Wiggins. — Works for Mr. 
Eedfleld. — The First Lift. 91 



CHAPTER Vm. 



THE FIRST PENNY PABER, AND WHO THOUGHT OF IT. 

Importance of the Cheap Daily Press. — The Orig Inator of the Idea. — History of 
the Idea. — Dr. Sheppard's Chatham-Street Cogitations. — The Idea is con- 
ceived. —It is bom. — Interview with Horace Greeley. —The Doctor thinks he 
is 'no Common Boy.' — The Schemer baffled. —Daily Papers Twenty-flve 
Years Ago. — Dr. Sheppard comes to a Resolution. — The Firm of Greeley and 
Story. — The Morning Post appears. — And falls. — The Sphere of the Cheap 
Press.— Fanny Fern and the Pea-Nut Merchant 101 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE FIRM CONTINOEB. 

Lottery Printing. —The Constitutionalist — Dudley S. Gregory. — The Lotteo 
Suicide. — The Firm prospers. —Sudden Death of Mr. Story. — A New Part- 
ner. — Mr. Greeley as a Master. — A Dinner Story. — Sylvester Graham.— 
Horace Greeley at the Graham House. — The New Yorker projected. —James 
Gordon Bennett 113 



VI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER X. 

BDITOE OP THE NEW TORKEB. 

PAQB 

Character of tho Paper. — Its Early Fortunes. — Happiness of the Editor. — Scene 
In the Office. — Specimens of Horace Greeley's Poetry. — Subjects of his^ 
Essays. — His Opinions then. — His Marriage. — The Silk-Stocliing Story.— 
A Day in Washington. — His Impressions of the Senate. — Pecuniary Difficul- 
ties. —Cause of the New Yorker's Ill-Success as a Business.— The Missing 
Letters. — The Editor gets a Nickname. — The Agonies of a Debtor.- Park 
Benjamin — Heniy J. Raymond 117 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE JEFPEESONIAN. 

Objects of the Jeflfersonlan. — Its Character. —A Novel Glorious- Victory Para- 
graph. — The Graves and CUley Duel. — TheEdltor overworked 149 

CHAPTER Xn. 

THE LOG-CABIN. " TIPrECANOE AND TYLER TOO." 

Wlre-PnUing.— The Delirium of 1840.— The Log-Cabin.— Unprecedented Hit — 
A Glance at its Pages.— Log-Cabin Jokes. — Log-Cabm Song. —Horace 
Greeley and the Cake-Basket — Pecuniary Difficulties continue. — The 
Tribune announced 14€ 

CHAPTER Xin. 

STARTS THE TRIBUNE. 

The Capital.— The Daily Press of New York In 1841. — The Tribune appears.— 
The Omens Unpropitious. — The First Week. — Conspiracy to put down the 
Tribune. — The Tribune triumphs. — Thomas McElrath. — The Tribune alive. 
— Industry of the Editors. — Their Independence. — Horace Greeley and John 
Tyler. —The Tribune a Fixed Fact ISI 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE TRIBUNE AND FOUEIEKISM. 

What made Horace Greeley a Socialist — The Hard Winter of 1838. — Albert Bris- 
bane. —The Subject broached. —Series of Articles by Mr. Brisbane begun. — 
Their Effect. — Cry of Mad Dog. — Discussion between Horace Greeley and 
Henry J. Raymond. — Howitarose.— Abstract of It in a Conversational Form. IGS 



CONTENTS. Vll 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE TRIBDNE's SECOND TEAR. 

PAGE 
Increase of Price. — The Tribune offends the Sixth- Ward Flghtlng-Men. — The 
Office threatened. — Novel Treparations for Defence. — Charles Dickens de- 
fended. — The Editor travels. — Visits Washington, and sketches the Senators. 

— At Mount Vemou. — At Niagara. — A Hard Hit at Major Noah 183 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE TRIBUNE AND J. FENIMORE COOPER. 

The Libel. — Horace Greeley's Narrative of the Trial. — lie revievirs the Opening 
Speeeh of Mr. Cooper's Counsel. — A Striking Illustration. — He addresses the 
Jury. — Mr. Cooper sums up. — Horace Greeley comments on the Speech of 
the Novelist. — In doing so he perpetrates New Libels. — The Verdict. — Mr. 
Greeley's Remarks on the Same. — Strikes a IJeo-Line for New York. — A New 
Suit — An Imaginary Case 191 

CHAPTER XVII. 

THE TRIBUNE CONTINUES. 

The Special Express System. — Night Adventures of Enoch Ward. — Gig Express. 

— Express from Halifax. — Balked by the Snow-Drifts. — Party Warfare 
then. — Books published by Greeley and McElrath. — Course of the Tribune. — 
The Editor travels. — Scenes in Washington. — An Incident of Travel. — Clay 
and Frelinghuysen. — The Exertions of Horace Greeley. — Results of the De- 
feat—The Tribune and Slavery. — Burning of the Tribune Building. — The 
Editor's Reflections upon the Fire 206 

CHAPTER XVni. 

MARGARET FULLER. 

Her Writings in the Tribune. — She resides with Mr. Greeley.- His Narrative. — 
Dietetic Sparring. — Her Manner of Writing. — Woman's Rights. — Her Gene- 
rosity.- Her Independence. —Her Love of Children. — Margaret and Fickle. 

— Her Opinion of Mr. Greeley. — Death of Pickle 219 

CHAPTER XIX. 

EDITORIAL REPARTEES. 

&t War With all the World. —The Spirit of the Tribune. — Retorts Vituperative. 

— The Tribune and Dr. Potts.— Some Prize Tracts suggested. — An Atheist's 
Oath. — A Word for Domestics. — Irish Democracy. — The Modem Drama. — 
Hit at Dr. Hawks. — Dissolution of the Union. — Dr. Franklin's Story. — A 
Picture for Polk. — Charles Dickens and Copyright. — Charge of JIalignant 
Falsehood. — Preaching and Practice. — Col. Webb severely hit — Hostility to 
the Mexican War. — Violence incited. — A Few Sparks.- The Course of the 
Tribune — Wager with the Herald 2M 



yjii CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XX. 
18481 



FAon 



Bevolutlon In Europe.— The Trltune exnlt3.-The SUevegammon Letters - 
Taylor and FUlmore.— Course of the Tribune.— Horace Greeley at Vauxk^ 
Garden.- His Election to Congress 241 



CHAPTER XXL 

THBEB MONTHS IN CONGBE88. 

Hlfl Objects as a Member of Congress. — His First Acts. —The Chaplain Hypoe 
risy. — The Land Keform BQl. — Distrlbating the Documents. — Offers a Novel 
Eesolution. — The MUeage Expos6. — Congressional Delays.— Explosion In 
the House. —Mr. Turner's Oration. — Mr. Greeley defends himself. — The 
"Walker Tariff. — Congress in a Pet. — Speech at the Printer's Festival. — The 
House in Good Humor. — TraveUing Dead-Head.— Personal Explanations.- 
A Dry Haul. — The Amendment Game. — Congressional Dignity. — Battle of 
the Books. — The Eecruitlng System. — The Last Night of the Session. — The 
» Usual Gratuity. ' — The Inauguration BalL — FareweU to his Constituents. ... 26t 



CHAPTER XXn. 

ASSOCIATION IN THE TRIBUNE OFFICE. 

Accessions to the Corps. — The Course of the Tribune. — Horace Greeley in Ohio. — 
The KochesterKnockings. — The Mediums at Mr. Greeley's House. — Jenny 
Lind goes to see them. — Her Behavior. — Woman's Eights Convention.— 
TheTribune Association.— The Hireling System 2M 



CHAPTER XXra. 

ON THE PLATFOUM. — HINTS TOWARDS REFORMS. 

Hie Lecture System. — Comparative Popularity of the Leading Lecturers.- 
Horace Greeley at the Tabernacle. — His Audience.— His Appearance. — HIb 
Manner of Speaking. — His Occasional Addresses. — The ' Hints ' published. — 
Its one Subject, the Emancipation of Labor. — The Problems of the Time. — 
The 'Successful 'Man. — The Duty of the State. — The Educated Class. — A 
Narrative for Workingmen. — The Catastrophe 292 



CONTENTS. IZ 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

THKEK MONTHS IN EUROPE. 

PAOH 

riie Voyage Out — First Impression of England. — Opening of the Exhibition. — 
Characteristic Observations. —Ue attends a Grand Banquet. — He sees the 
Sights. — He speaks at Exeter Hall. — The Play at Devonshire House. — 
Robert Owen's Birthday. — Horace Greeley before a Committee of the House 
of Commons. — Ue throws Light upon the Subject. — Vindicates the American 
Press. — Journey to Paris. — The Sights of Paris. — The Opera and Ballet — A 
False Prophet. — His Opinion of the French. — Journey to Italy. — Anecdote. 
— A Nap in the Diligence. —Arrival at Rome.— In the Galleries — Scene In 
the Coliseum. — To England again. — Triumph of the American Reaper. — A 
Week in Ireland and Scotland. — His Opinion of the English.- Homeward 
Boond.— His Arrival. — The Extra Tribune SU 

CHAPTER XXV. 

RECENTLY. 

Eellverance from Party.— A Private Platform. — Last Interview with Henry 
Clay. — Horace Greeley a Farmer. —He Irrigates and drains. — His Advice to 
a Toung Man. — The Dally Times. — A Costly Mistake. — The Isms of the Tri- 
bune. —The Tribune gets Glory. — The Tribune in Parliament — Proposed 
Nomination for Governor. — His Life written. —'A Judge's Daughter for Sale. 341 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

DAT AND NIGHT IN THE TRIBUNE OFFICE. 

The Streets before Daybreak. — Waking the Newsboys — Morning Scene In the 
Press-Boom. — The Compositors' Boom. —The Four Phalanxes. — The Tribune 
Directory. —A Lull in the Tribune OflBce. — A Glance at the Paper. —The 
Advertisements. — Telegraphic Marvels. — Marine Intelligence. — New Publi- 
cations. — Letters from the People. — Editorial Articles. — The Editorial 
Booms.- The Sanctum Sanctorum. — Solon Robinson. — Bayard Taylor.— 
William Henry Fry. — George Ripley. — Charles A. Dana. — F. J. Ottarson. — 
George M. Snow. —Enter Horace Greeley. — His Preliminary Botheration. — 
The Composing-Boom In the Evening. — The Editors at Work. — Mr. Greeley's 
Manner of Writing. -Midnight— Three O'clock in the Morning. — The 
Carriers 39J 

CHAPTER XXVn. 

HORACE GBSELET IN A FRENCH PBISOK. 

f oyage to Europe.— Visit to the Exhibition. — At the Tomb of Napoleon. — Two 
Days in the Debtors' Prison. —In London again. — Comments of the Editor 
on Mei' and Things tit 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXVm 

ASSAULTED IN WASHINGTON BT A MEMBEE OF CONGRESS. 

FAQI 

The Provocation. — The Assault. — Why Mr. Greeley did not prosecute. — The 
Tribune Indicted in Virginia. — Correspondence on Slavery. — Slavery ex 
Labor «1 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

ACROSS THE PLAINS TO CALIFORNIA. 

Farewell to Civilization. — The Buffaloes on the Plains. — Conversation with 
Brigham Toung. — Remarks upon Polygamy.— Visit to the To Semite Valley. 
— Reception at Sacramento.— At San Francisco til 



CHAPTER XXX. 

HORACE GREELEY AT THE CHICAGO CONVENTION OF 1860. 

Mr. Greeley'8 Reasons for opposing Mr. Seward. — Mr. Raymond's Accusation. — 
The Private Letter to Mr. Seward. —The Comments of Thurlow Weed. — The 
Three-Cent Stamp Correspondence.— Mr. Greeley a Candidate for the Senate. 
—He declines a Seat in Mr. Lincoln's Tabernacle 442 



CHAPTER XXXI. 



DURINGTHEWAR. 

Mr. Greeley's Opinions upon Secession before the War began. —The Battle of 
Bull Run. — Correspondence with President Lincoln. — His Peace Negotia- 
tions.— Assault upon the Tribune Oface. — Indorses the Proflfer of the French 
Mission to the Editor of the Herald. — He writes a History of the War. — He 
offers Prizes for Improved Fruits 461 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

RECONSTRUCTION. 

Qorace Greeley's Plan. —His Mediation between President Johnson and Con- 
gresa.- He Joins in baUing Jefferson Davis. — His Speech at Richmond tW 



CONTENTS. Zl 

CHAPTER XXXTTT. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

PAOB 

Horace Greeley upon Poetry and the Poets. — He objects to being enrolled among 
the I'oets. — Ills Advice to a Country Editor. — His Ileligioas Opinions.— 
Upon Jlnrrlape and Divorce.— His Idea of an American College. — Ilovyr he 
would bequeath an Estate. — How he became a Protectionist. — Advice to 
Ambitious Young Men. — To the Lovers of Knowledge. —To Young Lawyers 
and Doctors. — To Country Merchants.- How Far he is a Politician. — A 
Toast — Heply to Beggine Letters 518 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 
Horace Greelet nominated for the Presidenct 539 

CHAPTER XXXV. 
The Presidential Casipaign 549 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 
The End 554 



CHAPTER I. 

BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD. 

Birth of Horace Greeley— The Town of Amherst— The Greeley farm— The Trib- 
une in the room in which its Editor was bom — Horace learns to read — Book 
up-side down — Goes to school in Londonderry — A district school forty yean 
ago — Horace as a young orator — Has a mania for spelling hard words— Gets 
great glory at the BpcUiiig-school— Recollections of his surviving schoolfel- 
lows—His future eminence foretold — Delicacy of ear — Early choice of a trade 
— His courage and timidity — Goes to school in Bedford — A favorite among his 
schoolfellows — His early fondness for the village newspaper — Lies in ambush 
for the post-rider who brought it — Scours the country for books— Project of 
sending him to an academy — The old sea-captain — Horace as a farmer's boy — 
Let U8 do our stint first — Hia way of fishing. 

Hokace Greeley was bom at Amherst, in New Hampshire, 
Feb. 3, 1811. He was the third of the seven children of Zaccheus 
Greeley, a respectable farmer, of Scotch-Irish lineage. 

The township of Amherst contains about eight square miles of some- 
what better land than the land of New England generally is. "Wheat 
cannot be grown on it to advantage, but it yields fair returns of 
rye, oats, potatoes, Indian corn, and young men : the last-named of 
which commodities forms the chief article of export. The farmers 
have to contend against hills, rocks, stones innumerable, sand, 
marsli, and long winters ; but a hundred years of tillage have sub- 
dued these obstacles in part, and the people generally enjoy a safe 
and moderate prosperity. Yet severe Is their toil. To see them 
ploughing along tlie sides of those stee;, rocky hills, the plough 
creaking, the oxen groaning, the little boy-driver leaping from sod 
U) (-ixl, as an Alpine bov is supposed to leap from crag to crag, th« 
)loughman wrenching the plough round the rooks, boy and man 
svory minute or two uniting in a prolonged and agonizing yell for 
Ihe panting beasts to stop, when the plough is caught by a hidden 
rock too large for it to overturn, and the euiemn slowness with 
which the procession winds, and creaks, and groans along, gives tc 
Jie languid citizen, who chances to pass by, a new idea of hard 
work, and a new sense of the happiness of his lot. 
1 1 



aou5 



2 EARLT CHILDHOOD. 

The farm owLed by Zaccheus Greeley when his son Horace "vaa 
corn, was four or five miles from the village of Amherst. It cnn- 
=!isted of fifty acres of land — heavy land to till — rocky, moiar^ 
and uneven, worth then eight hundi'ed dollars, now two thousand. 
The house, a small, unpainted, but substantial and well-built fartj • 
liouse, stood, and still stands, upon a ledge or platform, half way 
op a high, 6t«ep, and rocky hill, commanding an extensive and al- 
most panoramic view of the surrounding country. In whateve/ 
direction the boy may have looked, he saw roeh. Rock is the 
feature of the landscape. There is rock in the old orchard behind 
the house ; rocks peep out from the grass in the pastures; there is 
rock along the road ; rock on the sides of the hills ; rock on their 
summits ; rock in the valleys ; rock in the woods ; — rock, rock, 
everywhere rock. And yet the country has not a barren look. I 
should call it h serious looking country ; one that would be congeniaJ 
to grim covenanters and exiled round-heads. The prevailing colors 
are dark, even in the brightest month of the year. The pine woods, 
the rock, the shade of the hill, the color of the soil, are all dark 
and serious. It is a still, unfrequented region. One may ride along 
the road upon which the house stands, for many a mile, without 
passing a single vehicle. The turtles hobble across the road fear- 
less of the crushing wheel. If any one wished to know the fuV 
meaning of the word country, as distinguished from the worJ tow , 
he need do no more than ascend the hill on which Horace Greeley 
Baw the light, and look around. 

Yet, the voice of the city is heard even there ; the opinions of 
the city influence there; for, observe, in the very room in which 
our hero was born, on a table which stands where, in other day*, a 
bed stood, we recognize, among the heap of newspapers, the well 
known heading of the "Weekly Tribdxe. 

Such was the character of the region m which Horace Gre«^Iey 
passed the greater part of the first seven years of his life. His 
father's neighbors were all hard-working farmers — men who work- 
ed their own farms — who were nearly equal in wealth, and to whom 
the idea of social inequality, founded upon an inequali'g' in TX)sses8- 
ions, did not exist, even as an idea. "Wealth and w£nt we/e a' ike 
unknown. It was a community of plaiu people, wh.) had der/ved 
all tlieir book-knowledge from the d'strict sciioo'^and I'.epc.nded 



( HORACE LEARNS TO READ. 3 

upon the village newspaper for their knowledge o. the world with- 
out. There were no heretics among them. All tie people eithei 
cordially embraced or nndoubtingly assented to the faith called 
Orthodox, and all of thein attended, more or less regularly, the 
d-urches in which that faith was expounded. 

The first great peril of his existence escaped, the boy grew apace, 
and passed through the minor and ordinary dangers of infancy with- 
out having his equanimity seriously disturbed. He was a " quiet 
and peaceable child," reports his father, and, though far from robust, 
suffered little from actual sickness. 

To say that Horace Greeley, from the earliest months of his exist- 
ence, manifested signs of extraordinary intelligence, is only to repeat 
what every biographer asserts of his hero, and every mother of her 
child. Yet, common-place as it is, the truth must be told. Horace 
trreeley did, as a very young child, manifest signs of extraordinary 
'ntelligence. He took to learning with the promptitude and in- 
stinctive, irrepressible love, with wliich a duck is said to take to the 
water. His first instructor was his mother ; and never was there 
a mother better calculated to awaken the mind of a child, and 
j£eep it awake, than Mrs. Greeley. 

Tall, muscular, well-formed, with the strength of a man without 
jis coarseness, active in her habits, not only capable of hard work, 
but delighting in it, with a pei-petual overflow of animal spirits, an 
exhaustless store of songs, ballads and stories, and a boundless, ex- 
uberant good will toward all living things, Mrs. Greeley was the 
'ife of the house, the favorite of the neighborhood, the natural 
'riend and ally of children; whatever she did she did "with a will.'' 
She was a great reader, and remembered all she read. "Sha 
worked," says one of my informants, " in doors and out of doors, 
could out-rake any man in the town, and could load the hay-wag 
0113 as fast and as well as her husband. She hoed in the garden : 
she labored in the field ; and, while doing more than the work of an 
ordinary man and an ordinary woman combined, would laugh and 
sing all day long, and tell stories all the evening." 

To these stories the boy listened greedily, as he sat on the flooj 
at he: feet, while she spun and talked with equal energy. They 
" served," says Mr. Greeley, in a passage already quoted, " to awaken 
In me a tMr»t fi)r knowledge, and a lively interest in learning and 



4 EARLY CHILDhOOD. 

history." Thinic of it, you word-mongering, gerund-grinding 
■eaub.ers who delight in signs and symbols, and ngures and "facts," 
and feed little children's souls on the dry, innutrtious husks of 
Knowledge ; and think of it, you play -abhorring, fiction-f( rbidding 
parents ! Awaken the interest in learning, and the thirst for knowl- 
edge, and there is no predicting what may or what may not result 
from it. Scarcely a man, distinguished for the supremacy or th«» 
Deauty of his immortal part, has written the history of his childhood 
Without recording the fact that the celestial fire was first kirdled 
{n his soul by means similar to those which awakened an " ir .eresl 
in learning" and a " thirst for knowledge" in the mind of Horace 
Greeley. 

Horace learned to read before he had learned to talk , that is, 
before he could pronounce the longer words. No one regularly 
taught him. When he was little more than two years old, he began 
to pore over the Bible, opened for his entertainment on the floor, 
and examine with curiosity the newspaper given him to play with. 
He cannot remember a time when he could not read, nor can any 
one give an account of the process by which he learned, except that 
he asked questions incessantly, first about the pictures in the news- 
paper, then about the capital letters, then about the smaller ones, 
and finally about the words and sentences. At three years of age 
he could read easily and correctly any of the books prepared for 
children ; and at four, any book whatever. But he was not satisfied 
with overcoming the ordinary difficulties of reading. Allowing 
that nature gives to every child a certain amount of mental force to 
be used in acquiring the art of reading, Horace had an over- 
plus of that force, which he employed in learning to read with his 
book in positions which increased the difficulty of the feat. All the 
friends and neighbors of his early childhood, in reporting him a 
prodigy unexampled, adduce as the unanswerable and clinching 
proof of the fact, that, at the age of four years, he could read 
any book in whatever position it might be placed, — rigL t-side up, 
up-side down, or sidewise. 

His third winter Horace spent at the house of his grandfather, 
David "Woodburn, in Londonderry, attended the district schoo 
there, and distinguished himself greatly. He had no right to at- 
tend the Londonderry school, and the people of the rural district* 



A DISTRICT SCHOOL FORTT YEARS AGO. 6 

4re a|:t to be strenuous upon the point of not admitting to their 
echool pui)ils from otlier towns ; but Horace "was an ciigagini! 
child; "every one liked the little, white-headed fellow," says a 
eurviving member of the school committee, "and so we tnvored 
him." 

A district school — and what was a district school forty year? 
ago? llcrace Greeley never attended any but a district school, ant? 
it concerns us to know what manner of place it was, and what 
was its routine of exercises. 

The school-house stood in an open place, formed (usually) by the 
crossing of roads. It was very small, and of one story ; contained 
one apartment, had two windows on each side, a small door in the 
gable end that faced the road, and a low door-step before it. It 
was the thing called house, in its simplest form. But for its roof, 
windows, and door, it had been a box, large, rough, and unpainted. 
Within and without, it Was destitute of anything ornamental. It 
was not enclosed by a fence ; it was not shaded by a tree. The sun 
in summer, the winds in winter, had their will of it : there was no- 
thing to avert the fury of either. The log school-houses of the pre- 
vious generation were picturesque and comfortable ; those of the 
present time are as prim, neat, and orderly (and as elegant »ome- 
^mes) as the cottage of an old maid who enjoys an annuity; but the 
school-house of forty years ago had an aspect singularly forlorn and 
uninviting. It was built for an average of tliirty pupils, but it fre- 
quently contained fifty ; and then the little school-room was a com- 
nact mass of young humanity : the teaciier had to dispense with 
nis table, and was lucky if he could find room for his chair. The 
side of the apartment opposite the door Avas occupied, chiefly, by a 
vast fireplace, four or five feet wide, where a carman's load of wood 
could burn in one prodigious fire. Along the sides of the room was 
ft low, slanting slielf, which served for a desk to those who wrote, 
and against the sharp edge of which the elder pupils leaned when 
they Avere not writing. The seats were made of "slabs," inverted, 
supported on sticks, and without backs. The elder pupils sat along 
the sides of the room, — the girls on one side, the boys on the other; 
the youngest sat nearest the fire, where they were as much too 
warm as those win, sat near the door were too cold. In a school 
of forty pupils, th;rt would bo a dozen who were grown up, mar>i 



b EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

riageable youug men and women. Not unfreqi.enth married raca, 
and occasionally married women, attended school in the winter. 
Among the younger pupils, there were usually a dozen who cou'id 
not read, and half as many who did not know the alphabet. The 
teacher was, perhaps, one of the farmer's sons of the district, whc 
knew a little more than Lis elder pupils, and only a little; or ho 
was a student who was working his way through college. Hit, 
u-ages were those of a farm-laborer, ten or twelve dollars a month 
and his board. He boarded " round,^^ i. e. he lived a few days at 
each of the houses of the district, stopping longest at the most 
agreeable place. The grand qualification of a teacher was the abil- 
ity "to do" any sum in the arithmetic. To know arithmetic was to 
be a learned man. Generally', tlie teacher was very young, some- 
times not more than sixteen years old ; but, if he possessed the due 
expertness at figures, if lie could read the Bible without stumbling 
over the long words, and without mispronouncing more than two 
thirds of the proper names, if he could Avrite well enough to set a 
decent copy, if he could mend a pen, if he had vigor enough of 
character to assert his authority, and strengtii enough of arm to 
maintain it, he would do. The school began at nine in the morn- 
ing, and the arrival of that hour was announced by the teacher's 
rapping upon the window frame witli a ruler. The boys, and the 
girls too, came tumbling in, rosy and glowing, from their snow- 
balling and sledding. The first thing done in school was reading. 
The "first class," consisting of that third of the pupils wlio could 
read best, stood on the floor and read round once, each indiwdual 
reading about half a page of the English Reader. Then the second 
class. Then the third. Last of all, the youngest children said their 
letters. By that time, a third of tlie morning was over; and then 
the reading began again; for public opinion demanded of the teach- 
er that he should hear every pui)il read four times a day, twice in 
;he morning and twice in the afternoon. Those who were not in 
the class reading, were employed, or were supposed to be emploj^ed, 
in ciphering or writing. When they wanted to write, they went to 
the teacher with their writing-book and pen, and he set a copy, — 
•'Procrastination is the thief of time," " Contentment is a virtue," 
•>r some other wise saw, — and mended the pen. "When they were 
,juzzled with a "sum," they went to the teacher to have it elucida^ 



THE SPELLING SCHOOL. 7 

ed. Tbey seem to have written and ciphered as much or as iiltla 
as they chose, at what time they chose, and in what manner. It 
some schools there were classes in aritiimetic and regular instruc 
tion in writing, and one class in grammar ; but such schools, forty 
years ago. were rare. The exercises of the morning were concluded 
with a general spdl^ the teacher giving out the words from a spell- 
ing book, and the pupils spelling them at the top of their voices. 
At noon the school was dismissed ; at one it was summoned agai', 
to go through, for the next three hours, precisely the same routine 
as that of the morning. In this rudo way the last generation of 
children learned to read, write, and cipher. But they learned 
eomething more in those rude tJiool-houses. They learned obedi- 
ence. They were tamed and disciplined. The means employed 
were extremely unscientific, but the thing was done! Tlie means, 
in fact, were merely a ruler, and what was called, in contradistinc- 
tion to that milder weapon, " the heavy gad ;" by which express- 
ion was designated five feet of elastic sapling of one year's growth. 
These two implements were plied vigorously and often. Girls got 
their full share of them. Girls old enough to be wives Avere no 
more exempt than the young men old enough to marry tliem, who 
sat on the other side of the schoolroom. It was thought, that if a 
youth of either sex was not too old to do wrong, neither he nor slie 
was too old to sufler the consequences. In some districts, a teacher 
was valued in proportion to his severity ; and if he wei-e backward 
in applying the ferule and the " gad," the parents soon began to be 
uneasy. They thought he had no energy, and inferred that the 
children could not be learning much. In the district schools, then, 
of forty years ago, all the i)upi!s learned to read and to obey ; most 
of them learned to write ; many acquired a competent knowledge 
of figures; a few learned the rudiments of grammar; and if any 
learned more than these, it was generally due to their unassisted 
and unencouraged exertions. There were no school-libraries at that 
time. The teachers usually possessed little general information, and 
the little they did possess was not often made to contribute to the 
mental nourishment of their pupils. 

On one of the first benches of the Iiondonderry school-house, near 
the fire, we may imagine the little white-headed fellow, whom every 
body Ukcd,tobe seated during the winters of 1813-1-i and '14-M5. II« 



8 EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

was u&ger to go to school. When the snow lay on the ground ic 
drifts too deep for him to wade through, one of his aunts, who still 
lives to tell tho story, would take him up on her shoulders and 
carry him to the door. He was the possessor that winter, of threw 
books, the " Columbian Orator," Morse's Geography, and a spell- 
ing book. From the Columbian Orator, he learned many pieces bj 
heart, and among others, that very celebrated oration which prob- 
ably the majority of the inhabitants of this nation have at some pe- 
riod of their lives been able to repeat, beginning, 

" You 'd scarce expect one of my age 
To speak in public on the stage." 

One of his schoolfellows has a vivid remembrance of Horace's re 
citing this piece before the whole school in Londonderry, before he 
was old enough to utter the words plainly. He had a lisping, 
whining little voice, says my informant, but spoke with the utmost 
confidence, and greatly to the amusement of the school. He spoke 
the piece eo often in public and private, as to become, as it were, 
identified with it, as a man who knows one song suggests that 
aong by his presence, and is called upon to sing it wherever he 
goes. 

It is a pity that no one thinks of the vast importance of those 
''Orators" and reading books which the children read and wear 
out in reading, learning parts of them by heart, and repeating 
them over and over, till they become fixed in the memory and 
embedded in the character forever. And it is a pity that those 
books should contain so much false sentiment, inflated language, 
Buncombe oratory, and other trash, as they generally do ! To 
compile a series of Eeading Books for the common schools of 
this country, were a task for a conclave of the wisest and best men 
and women that ever lived; a task worthy of them, both from its 
difficulty and the incalculable extent of its possible results. 

Spelling was the passion of the little orator during the first win- 
ters of his attendance at school. He spelt incessantly in school and 
out of school. He would lie on the floor at his grandfather's house, 
for hours at a time, spelling hard words, all that he could find in 
the Bible and the few other books within his reach. It was th« 



\ 



RECOLLECTIONS OF HIS SURVIVINO SCHOOLFELLOWS. iJ 

ftauding amusement of the family to try and puzzle the boy willi 
words, and no one remembers succeeding. Spelling, moreover, 
was one of the great points of the district schools in those days, 
and hf. who could out-spell, or, as the phrase was, "spell down" 
the whole school, ranked second only to him who surpassed the 
rest in arithmetic. Those were the palmy days of the spelling- 
schjol. The pupils assembled once a week, voluntarily, at the 
BcLool-liouse, chose " sides," and contended with one another long 
and earnestly for the victory. Horace, young as he was, was eager 
to attend the spelling school, and was never known to injure the 
" side " on which he was chosen by missing a word, and it soon 
became a prime object at the spelling-school to get the first choice, 
because that enabled the lucky side to secure the powerful aid of 
Horace Greeley. He is well remembered by his companions in or- 
thography. They delight still to tell of the little fellow, in the 
long evenings, falling asleep in his place, and when it came his 
turn, his neighbors gave him an anxious nudge, and he would wake 
instantly, spell off his word, and drop asleep again in a moment. 

Horace went to school three terms in Londonderry, spending 
part of each year at home. I will state as nearly as possible in 
their own words, Aviiat his school-fellows there remember of him. 

One of them can just recall him as a very small boy with ahead as 
white as snow, who " was almost always up head in his class, and took 
it so much to heart when he did happen to lose his place, that he 
would cry bitterly ; so that some boys when they had gained the right 
to get above him, declined the honor, because it hurt IIorace'3 
feelings so." He was the pet of the school. Those whom he used 
to excel most signally liked him as well as the rest. He was an 
active, bright, eager boy, but not fond of plaj-, and seldom touk 
part in the sports of the other boys. One muster day, this inform- 
ant remembers, the clergyman of Londonderry, who liad heard 
glowing accounts of Horace's feats at school, took him on his lap iu 
the field, questioned him a long time, tried to puzzle him with hard 
words, and concluded by saying with strong emphasis to one of the 
boy's relatives, " Mark my words, Mr. Woodburn, that boy was not 
made for nothing." 

Another, besides confirming the above, adds that Horace was 
m some respects exceedingly brave, and in others exceedingly tira 



10 EAKLY CHILDnOOD. 

orous. He was never afraid of tlie dark, could not be frightened 
by ghost-stories, never was abashed in speaking or reciting, wa«! 
not to be overawed by supposed superiority of knowledge or rank, 
would talk up to the teaclier and question his decision with perfect 
freedom, though never in a spirit of impertinence. Yet he could 
not stand up to a boy and figbt. "When attacked, he would nei- 
ther fight nor run away, but "stand still and take it." His tar 
was so delicately constructed that any loud noise, like the report of 
a gun, would almost throw him into convulsions. If a gun were 
about to be discharged, he would either run away as fast as his 
legs could carry him, or else would thi'ow himself upon the 
ground and stuff grass into his ears to deaden the dreadful noise. 
On the fourth of July, when the people of Londonderry inflamed 
their patriotism by a copious consumption of gunpowder, Horace 
would run into the Avoods to get beyond the sound of the cannons 
and pistols. It was at Londonderry, and about liis fourth year, that 
Horace began the habit of reading or hook-devouring, which ho 
never lost during all the years of his boyhood, youth, and appren- 
ticeship, and relinquished only when he entered that most exacting 
of all professions, the editorial. The gentleman whose reminis- 
cences I am now recording, tells me that Horace in his fifth and 
sixth years, Avould lie under a tree on his face, reading hour after 
hour, completely absorbed in his book ; and " if no one stumbled 
over him or stirred him up," would read on, unmindful of dinrrei 
time and sun-set, as long as he could see. It was his delight ii 
hooks that made him, when little more than an infant, determim 
to be a printer, as printers, he supposed, were tliey who made books 
" One day," says this gentleman, " Horace and I went to a black 
smith's shop, and Horace watched the process of horse-shoeing witli 
much interest. The blacksmith, observing how intently he lookec 
on, said, 'You'd better come with rae and learn the trade.' 'No.' 
eaiJ Horace in his prompt, decided way, ' I 'm going to be a printer.' 
He was then six years old, and veiy small for his age ; and this pos- 
itive choice of a career by so diminutive a piece of humanity^ 
mightily amused the by-standers. The blacksmith used to tell the 
Btory with great glee when Horace was a printer, and one of some 
note." :3:Sr :2:3:::=- 

Another gentleman, who went to school with Horace at Londor- 



RECOLLECTIONS OF HIS SURVIVING SCHOOLFELLOWS. 11 

ierr}', writes : — "I tlilnk I attended school with Horace Greeley 
two summers and two winters, but have no recollection of seeing 
Lim except at the school-house. lie was an exceedingly mild, quiet 
and inoffensive child, entirely devoted to his books at school. It 
nsed to be said in the neighborhood, that he was the same out of 
school, and that his parents were obliged to secrete his books to 
prevent his injuring himself by over study. Ills devotion to hi? 
books, together with the fact of his great advancement beyon»l 
others of bis age in the few studies then pursued in the district 
school, rendered lam notorious in that part of the town. He was 
regarded as a prodigy, and his name was a household world. Ho 
was hK)ked upon as standing alone, and entirely unapproachable by 
any of the little mortals around iiim. Reading, parsing, and spelling 
are the only branches of learning which I remember hvn in, or in 
connection witli wliich his name was at that time mentioned, 
though he might have given some attention to writing and arith- 
metic, Avhich completed tlie circle of studies in the district school at 
that time; but in the three branches tirst named he excelled all, even 
in the winter sciiool, which was attended by several young men and 
women, some of whom became teachers soon after. Though 
mild and quiet, he was ambitious in the school ; to be at the head 
of his class, and be accounted the best scliolar in school, seemed 
to be prominent objects wltli him, and to furnish strong motives to 
effort. I can recall but one instance of liis missing a Avord in tho 
spelling class. The classes went on to tlie floor to spell, and he al 
most invariably stood at the head of the 'first class,' embracing 
tlie most advanced scholars. He stood there at the time referred 
to, and by missing a word, lost his place, which so grieved hi in tliat 
he wept like a punished child. While I knew him lie diii not en- 
gage with other children in the usual recreations j.nd amuse- 
meats of tlie scliool grounds ; as soon as the school wa.s dismissed at 
noon, he would start for home, a distance of half a mile, with all 
his books a:der his arm, including the New Testament, Webster's 
Spelling Book, English Reader &c., and would not return till the 
last moment of intermission ; at least such was his practice in tho 
eummer time. With regard to his aptness i-n spelling, it used tc be 
Baid that the minister of the town. Rev. ^Ir. McGregor, once at- 
tempted to find a w .~d or name in the Bible wliich he could not 



12 EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

Bpell correctly, but tu'led to do so. I always supposed, however 
that this was an exaggeration, for he could not have been more than 
seven years old at the time this was told. My father soon after re- 
moved to another town thirty miles distant, and I lost sight of the 
family entirely, Horace and all, though I always remembered the 
gentle, flaxen-haired schoolmate with much interest, and often won- 
dered what became of him ; and when the ' Log Cabin ' appeared, 
I took nmch pains to assure myself whether this Horace Greeley 
was tlie same little Horace grown up, and found it was." 

From his sixth year, Horace resided chiefly at his father's house. 
He was now old enough to walk to the nearest school-house, a mile 
and a half from his home. He could read fluently, spell any word 
in the language; had some knowledge of geography, -and a little of 
arithmetic ; had read the Bible through from Genesis to Rcvehv 
tions ; had read the Pilgriiirs Progress with intense interest, and 
dipped into every other book he could lay his liands on. From his 
sixth to his tenth year, he lived, worked, read and went to school, 
in Amherst and the adjoining town of Bedford. Those who were 
then his neighbors and schoolmates there, have a lively recollection 
of the boy and his ways. 

Henceforth, he went to school only in the winter. Again he at- 
tended a school which he had no right to attend, that of Bedford, 
and his attendance was not merely permitted, but souglit. The 
school-committee expressly voted, that no pupils from other towno 
should be received at their school, except Horace Greeley alone; 
and, on entering the school, he took his place, young as he was, at 
the head of it, as it were, by acclamation. Nor did his superiority 
ever excite envy or enmity. He bore his honors meekly. Every 
one liked the boy, and took pride in his superiority' to themselves. 
All his sclioolmates agree in this, that Horace never had an ene- 
my at school. 

The snow lies deep on those New Hampshire hills in the winter, 
and presents a serious obstacle to the younger children in their way 
to the school-house ; nor is it the rarest of disasters, even now, for 
children to be lost in a drift, and frozen to death. (Such a calam- 
ity happened two years ago, within a mile or two ot the old Gree- 
ley homestead.) "Many a morning," says one of the neighbors — 
ther. a stout schoolboy, tow a sturdy farmer — "many a morning 1 



rilS EARLY rOXDXESS FOR THE VILLAGE KEWSPAPER, 15 

have carried Horace on my back through tlie drifts to schoel, and 
put my own mittens over liis, to keep his little hands from freez- 
ing " He adds, " I lived at the next liouse, and I and my brothera 
often went down in the evening to play with him ; but he never 
would play with us till he had got his lessons. "We could neither 
coax nor force him to." He remembers Horace as a boy of a bright 
and active nature, but neither playful nor merry; one who would 
utter acute and " old-fashioned" remarks, and make more fun for 
others than he seemed to enjoy himself. 

His fondness for reading grew with the growth of his mind, till 
it amounted to a passion. His father's stock of books was small 
indeed. It consisted of a Bible, a " Confession of Faith," and per- 
haps all tukl, twenty volumes beside ; and they by no means of a 
kind calculated to foster a love of reading in the mind of a little 
boy. But a weekly newspaper came to the house from the village 
of Amherst ; and, except his mother's tales, that newspaper proba- 
bly had more to do with the opening of the boy's mind and the 
tendency of his opinions, than anything else. Tlie family well re- 
member the eagerness with which he anticipated its coming. Pa- 
per-day was the brightest of the week. An hour before the post- 
rider was expected, Horace would walk down the road to meet 
him, bent on having the first read ; and when he had got possession 
of the precious sheet, lie would hurry with it to some secluded 
place, lie down on the grass, and greedily devour its contents. The 
paper was called (and is still) the Farmei-'s Cabinet. It was mildly 
"Whig in politics. The selections were religious, agricultural, and 
miscellaneous ; the editorials few, brief, and amiable ; its summary 
of news scanty in the extreme. But it was the only bearer of tid- 
ings from the Great World. It connected the little brown house on 
the rocky hill of Amherst with the general life of mankind. Tha 
boy before he could read himself, and before he could understand 
tlie meaiiing of war and bloodshed, doubtless heard his father read 
in it of the triumphs and disasters of ttie Second War with Great 
Britain, and of the rejoicings at the conclusion of peace. He him- 
self ma) have read of Decatur's gallantry in the war with Algiers, 
of Wellington's victory at Waterloo, of Napoleon's fretting away 
6is life on the rock of St. Helena, of Monroe's inauguration, of the 
dismantling of the flee's on the great h<,kes, of the progiess of the 



14 EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

Erie Canal project, of Jackson's inroads into Florida, and the subse- 
quent cession of that province to the United States, of the first 
meeting of Congress in the Capitol, of the passage of the Missouri 
Compromise. During the progress of the various commercial trea- 
ties with the States of Europe, Avhich were negotiated after the 
conclusion of the general peace, the whole theory, practice, and his- 
tory of commercial intercourse, were amply discussed in Congress 
and the newspapers; and the mind of Horace, even in his ninth 
year, was mature enough to take some interest in the subject, and 
derive some impressions from its discussion. The Farmer'^s Cabinet, 
which brought all these and countless othei ideas and events to 
bear on the education of the boy, is now one of the thousand pa- 
pers with which the Tribune exchanges. 

Horace scoured the country for books. Books were books in that 
remote and secluded region ; and wlien he had exhausted the col- 
lections of the neighbors, he carried the search into tlie neighbor- 
ing towns. I am assured that there was not one readable book 
wilhin seven miles of his fother's house, which Horace did not bor- 
row and read during his residence in Amherst. He was never 
without a book. As soon, says one of liis sisters, as he Avas dressed 
m the morning, he flew to his book. He read every minute of the 
day which he could snatch from his studies at scIjooI, and on the 
farm. He would be so absorbed in his reading, that when his pa- 
rents required his services, it was like rousing a heavy sleeper from 
his deepest sleep, to awaken Horace to a sense of things around 
him and an apprehension of the duty required of him. And even 
then he clung to his book. He would go reading to the cellar and 
the cider-barrel, reading to the wood-pile, reading to the garden, 
reading to the neighbors; and pocketing his book only long enough 
t,o perform his errand, he would fall to reading again the instant liis 
mind and his hands were at liberty. 

He kept in a secure place an ample supply of pine knots, and as 
soon as it was dark he would light one of these cheap and brilliant 
illuminators, put it on the back -log in the spacious fire-place, pile 
up his school books and his reading books on the floor, lie down on 
his back on the hearth, with his head to the fire and his feet coiled 
away out of the reach of stumblers; and there he would lie and 
read all through the long -vvinter evenings, silent, motionless, dead 



SCOURS THE COUNTRY FOR BOOKS. 15 

to tho worlil around liiin, alive only to the world to wliich he was 
transported by Ids book. Visitors Avould come in, chat a while, 
and go away, without knowing he was present, and without liia 
being aware of their coming and going. It was a nightly struggle 
to get him to bed. His father required his services early in tho 
morning, and was therefore desirous that he should go to bed early 
in the evening, lie feared, also, for the eye-sight of the boy, read- 
ing so many hours with his head in the fire and by tl;e flaring, flicker- 
ing light of a pine knot. And so, by nine o'clock, his father would 
begin the task of recalling the absent mind from its roving, and 
rousing the prostrate and dormant body. And when Horace at 
length had been forced to beat a retreat, he kept his younger 
brother awake by telling over to him in bed what he had read, and 
by reciting the school lessons of the next day. His brother was by 
no means of a literary turn, and was prone — much to the chagrin 
of Horace — to fall asleep long before the lessons were all said and 
the tales all told. 

So entire and passionate a devotion to the acquisition of knowl- 
edge in one so young, would be remarkable in any circumstances. 
But when the situation of the boy is considered — living in a remote 
and eery rural district — few books accessiijle — few literary persons re- 
siding near — the school contributing scarcely anything to his mental 
nourishment — no other bo}' in the neigliborhood manifesting any 
particular interest in learning — the people about him all engaged in 
a rude and hard struggle to extract the means of subsistence from 
a rough and rocky soil — sucli an intense, absorbing, and persistent 
love of knowledge as that exhibited by Horace Greeley, must be 
accounted very extraordinary, 

Tliat his neighbors so accounted it, they are still eager to attest. 
Continually the wonder grew, that one small head should carry all 
Le knew. 

There were not wanting those who thought that superior means 
of instruction ought to be placed within the reach of so superior 
a child. J have a somewhat vague, but very positive, and fully con- 
firmed story, of a young man j'lst returned from college to hia 
father's house in Bedford, who fell in with Horace, and was so 
struck with his capacity and attainments that he oflTered to send 
bim to an academy in a neighboring town, and bear all the ex- 



16 EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

penses of Lis maintenance and tuition. But liis mother could not 
let him go, his father needed his assistance at home, and the boy 
himself is said not to have favored the scheme. A wise, a fortunate 
choice, I cannot help believing. That academy may have been an 
institution where boys received more good than harm — -wbere real 
knowledge was imparted — where souls were inspired with the love 
of high and good things, and inflamed with an ambition to run a 
high and good career — where boys did not lose all their modesty 
and half their sense — where chests were expanded — where 
cheeks were ruddy — where limbs w.ere active— where stomachs 
were peptic. It inay have been. But if it was, it was a different 
academy fi-om many whose praises are in all the newspapers. It 
was better not to run the risk. If that young man's offe^ had been 
accepted, it is a question whether the world would have ever heard 
of Horace Greeley. Probably his fragile body would not have sus- 
tained the brain-stimulating treatment which a forward and eager 
boy generally receives at au academy. 

A better friend, though not a better meaning one, was a jovial 
neighbor, a sea-captain, who had taken to farming. The captain 
had seen the world, possessed the yarn-spinning faculty, and be- 
sides being himself a walking traveler's library, had a considerable 
collection of books, which he freely lent to Horace. His salute, on 
meeting the boy, was not ' How do you do, Horace ?' but ' Well, 
Horace, what's the capital of Turkey V or, ' "Who fought the battle 
of Eutaw Springs V or, ' How do you spell Encyclopedia, or Kamt- 
Bchatka, or iNebuchadnezzar V The old gentleman used to question 
the boy upon the contents of the books he had lent him, and was 
again and again surprised at the fluency, the accuracy, and tlie full- 
ness of his replies. The captain was of service to Horace in vari- 
ous ways, and he is remembered by the family with gratitude. To 
Horace's brother he once gave a sheep and a load of hay to keep it 
on during the winter, thus adapting his benefactions to the various 
tastes of his juvenile friends. 

A clergyman, too, is spoken of, who took great interest in Horace, 
and gave him instruction in grammar, often giving the boy er- 
roneous information to test his knowledge. Horace, he used to 
Bay, could never be shaken on a point which he had once clearly 
understood, but would stand to his opinion, and defend it againsi 
anybody and everybody — teacher, pastor, or public opinion. 



Hia WAT OF FISHING. 



17 



In New England, the sons of formers becjin to make themselves 
nseful ahnost as soon as they can walk. Tlicy feed the chickens, 
they drive the cows, they bring in wood and water, and soon coma 
to perform all those offices which come under the denomination of 
" chores.'''' By the time they are eight or nine years old, they fre- 
quently have tasks assigned them, which are called " stints," and 
not till they have done their stint are they at liberty to play, 
Tlie reader may think that Horace's devotion to literature wouIJ 
naturally enough render the farm work distasteful to him ; an'^ 5f 
he had gone to the academy, it might. I am bound, however, to 
say that all who knew him in boyhood, agree that he was not more 
aevoted to study in his leisure hours, than he was faithful and assid- 
uous in performing his duty to his father during the hours of work. 
Faithful is the word. He could be trusted any where, and to do 
anything within the compass of his strength and years. It was 
hard, sometimes, to rouse him from his books ; but when he had 
been roused, and was entrusted with an errand or a piece of work, 
he would set about it vigorously, and lose no time till it was done. 
" Come," his brother would say sometimes, when the father had 
Bet the boys a task and had gone from home ; " come. Hod, let's go 
fishing." '' No," Horace would reply, in his whining voice, " let 
us do our stint first." " He was always in school, though," says his 
brother, " and as we hoed down the rows, or chopped at the wood- 
pile, he was perpetually talking about his lessons, asking questions, 
and narrating what he had read." 

Fishing, it appears, was the only sport in which Horace took 
much pleasure, during the first ten years of his life. But his love 
of fishing did not originate in what the Germans call the "sport 
impulse." Other boya fished for sport; Horaoe fished for ^7i. He 
fished induslriously, keeping his eyes unceasingly on the float, and 
never distracting his own attention, or that of the fish, by convers- 
ing with his companions. The consequence was that he would 
often catch more than all the rest of the party put together. Slioot 
ing was the favorite amusement of the boys of the neighborhood, 
out Horace could rarely be persuaded to take part in it. "Wher. 
he did accompany a shooting-party, he would never carry or dis- 
charge a gun, and when the game was found he would lie dowj 
and stop his ears till the murder had been done. 



CHAPTER II. 

HIS FATHER RUIXED — REMOVAL TO VERMOMT. 

Sew [fampshire before the era of manufactures— Causes of his father's failure- -Rum 
,n itie olden time— An execution in the house— Flight of the father— Horace and 
the Rum Jug— Compromise with the creditors— Removal to another farm— Fi- 
nal ruin— Removal to Vermont — The winter journey — Poverty of the family- 
Scene at their new home- Cheerfulnecs in misfortune. 

But while thus Horace was growing up to meet his destiny, 
pressing forward on the rural road to learning, and secreting char- 
acter in that secluded home, a cloud, undiscerned hyl)im,had come 
over his father's prospects. It began to gather when tlie boy was 
little more than six years old. In his seventh year it broke, and 
drove the family, for a time, from house and land. In his tenth, it 
liad completed its work — his father was a ruined man, an exile, a 
fugitive from his native State. 

In those days, before the great manufacturing towns which now 
afford the farmer a market for his produce had sprung into exist- 
ence along the shores of the Merrimac, before a net-work of rail- 
roads regulated the price of grain in the barns of New Hampshire 
by the standard of Mark Lane, a farmer of New Hampshire was 
not, in his best estate, tery far from ruin. Some articles which 
forty years ago were quite destitute of pecuniary value, now afford 
an atuple profit. Fire-wood, for example, when Horace Greelej 
was a boy, could seldom be sold at any price. It was usually 
burned up on the land on which it grcAv, as a worthless incumbrance. 
Fire-wood now, in the city of Manchester, sells for six dollars a 
cord, and at any point within ten miles of Manchester for fom- dol- 
lars. Forty years ago, farmers had little surplus produce, and that 
little had to be carried far, and it brought little money home. In 
Bhort, before the manufacturing system was introduced into New 
Hampshire, affording employment to her daughters in the factory, 
to her sons on the land, New Hampshire was a poverty-stricken 

State. 

18 



CAUSKS l/V niS FATIIEKS FAILL'KE. 19 

It is one of tlio wonders of jKirty iiitutiiation, tlial the two States 
whicli if tliey liavo not gained most, liavc certaiidy most to gain 
from tlie " American system," should liave always l>ecn, and fhould 
still be its niost rooted opponents. l>iit n)an the partisan, like man 
the sectarian, is, always was, and will over be, a poor creature. 

The way to tlirive in New Hampshire was to Wvork very linrd 
keep the store-bill small, stick to the farm, and be no man's security. 
(>( these four things, Horace's father did only one — he worked liar«l. 
He was a good workman, methodical, skillful, and persevering, 
I5ut lie speculated in luinlier, and lost money by it. He was ' bound,' 
as tliey say in the country, tor another man, and had to pay the 
money which that other man failed to pay. He had a free and 
generous nature, lived well, treated the men whom he employee! 
liberally, and in various ways swelled his account with the store- 
keeper. 

Those, too, wore the jolly, bad days, when everybody drank 
strong drinks, and no one supposed that the affairs of life conld pc9- 
sibly be transacted without its agency, any more than a machine 
could go without the lubricating oil. A field could not be 'logged,' 
hay could not be got in, a harvest could not be gathered, unless the 
jug of liquor stood by the spring, and unless the spring was visited 
many times in the day by all hands. No visitor could be sent un- 
moistened away. No holiday could be celebrated without drinking- 
booths. At weddings, at christenings, at funerals, rum seemed to 
be the inducement that brought, and the tie that bound, the com- 
pany together. It was rum that cemented friendship, and ruin that 
clinched bargains; rum tliat kept out the cold of "winter, and rum 
that moderated the summer's heat. Men drank it, women drank 
it, children drank it. There were families in which the first duty 
of every morning was to serve around to all its members, even to 
tlie youngest child, a certain portion of alcoholic liquor. Rum had 
to be bought with money, and money was hard to get in New 
Hampshire. Zaccheus Greeley was not tlie man to stint his work- 
men. At liis house and on his farm the jug was never empty. In 
his cellar the cider never was out. And so, by losses which he 
cotdd not help, by practices wliich ]:,id not yet been discovered to 
be unnecessary, his affairs became disordered, and he bigan i«< 
descend the easy steep that leads to the ab^-ss f f bankruiitcy. Ho 



20 



Ills FATHER RUINED. REMOVAL TO VERMONT. 



arrival — lingered a few yeai's ou the edge — was pushed in — and 
scrambled out on the other side. 

It was on a Monday morning. There had been a long, fierce 
rain, and the clouds still hung heavy and dark ove-r the hills, 
Horace, then only nine years old, on coming down stairs in tlio 
morning, saw several men about the house ; neighbors, some of 
them ; others were strange'** ; others he had seen in the village. 
He was too young to know the nature of an Execution^ and by what 
right the sheriff and a party of men laid hands upon his father's 
property. His father had walked quietly off into tlie woods ; for, 
at that period, a man's person was not exempt from seizure. Horace 
had a vague idea that the men had come to rob them of all they 
possessed; and wild stories are afloat in the neighborhood, of tho 
boy's conduct on the occasion. Some say, that he seized a hatchet, 
ran to the neighboring field, and began furiously to cut down a fa- 
vorite pear-tree, saying, " They shall not have thaty anyhow." Rut 
his mother called him off, and the pear-tree still stands. Another 
story is, that he went to one of his mother's closets, and taking as 
many of her dresses as he could grasp in his arms, ran away with 
them into the woods, hid them behind a rock, and then came back 
to the house for more. Others assert, that the article carried off 
by the indignant boy was not dresses, but a gallon of rum. But 
whatever the boy did, or left undone, the reader may imagine that 
it was to all the family a day of confusion, anguish, and horror. 
Both of Horace's parents were persons of incorruptible honesty ; 
they had striven hard to place such a calamity as this far from their 
house ; they had never experienced themselves, nor witnessed at 
their earlier homes, a similar scene ; the blow was unexpected ; and 
mingled with their sense of shame at being publicly degraded, was 
a feeling of honest rage at the supposed injustice of so summary a 
proceeding. It was a dark day ; but it passed, as the darkest day 
will. 

An " arrangement" was made with the creditors. Mr. Greeley 
gave up his own farm, temporarily, and removed to another in the 
adjoining town of Bedford, which he cultivated on shares, and de- 
voted principally to the raising of hops. Misfortune still pursued 
him. His two years' experience of hop-growing was not satisfac- 
tory. The hop-market wa3 depressed. His own farm in Amhersr 



BEGINNING THE WOULD ANEW. 21 

was eithet ill inaiiairod or else tlio seasons were unfavorable. 11« 
gave u[) the liop-farin, poorer than ever, lie removed back to liia 
old home in Amherst. A little legal maneuvering or rascality on 
the part of a creditor, gave the finishing blow to his fortunes; and, 
in the winter of 1821, he gave up the eflfbrt to recover himself, be- 
came a bankrupt, was sold out of house, land, and household good- 
by the sheriff, and tied from the State to avoid arrest, leaving 1. s 
family behind. Horacfc was nearly ten years old. Pome of th« 
debts then left unpaid, he discharged in part thirty^ years after. 

Mr. Gree.cy had to begin the world anew, and the world was all 
before him, where to choose, excepting only that portion of it which 
is included within the boundaries of New Hampshire. He made his 
way, after some wandering, to the town of Westhaven, in Rutland 
county, Vermont, about a hundred and twenty miles northwest of 
his former residence. There he found a large landed proprietor, 
who had made one fortune in Boston as a merchant, and married 
another in "Westhaven, the latter consisting of an extensive tract 
of land. He had now retired from business, had set up for a coun- 
try gentleman, was clearing his lands, and when they were cleared 
he rented them out in farms. Tliis attempt to " found an estate," 
in the European style, signally failed. The " mansion house" has 
been disseminated over the neighborhood, one wing here, another 
wing there ; the " lawn" is untrimmed ; the attempt at a park-gate 
Las lost enough of the paint that made it tawdry once, to look 
shabby now. But this gentleman was useful to Zaccheus Greeley 
in the day of his poverty. He gave him work, rented him a small 
house nearly opposite the park-gate just mentioned, and thus en- 
abled him in a few weeks to transport hi.s family to a new home. 

It was in the depth of winter Avhen they made the journey. The 
teamster that drove them still lives to tell how ' old Zac Greeley 
came to him, and wanted he should take his sleigh and horses, and 
go over with him to New Uampshire State, and bring his family 
ba.,k ;• and how, when they had got a few miles on the way, he said 
to Zac, said he, that he (Zac) was a stranger to him, and he did n't 
feel like going so far without enough to secure him ; and so Zao 
gave him enough to secure him, and away they drove to New 
Hampshire State. One sleigh was sufficient to convey all the little 
property the law had left the family, and the load could not have 



'^2 HIS FATHER FvUINED. REMOVAL TO VERMONT. 

been a lieavy one, for the distance n^as accomplished in a little less 
than three days. The sleighing, however, was good, and the Con- 
necticut river was crossed on the ice. The teamster remembers 
well the intelligent, white-headed boy who was so pressing with his 
questions, as they rode along over the snow, and who soon exhaust- 
ed the man's knowledge of the geography of the region in which 
he had lived all his days. " lie asked me," says he, "a great dea. 
about Lake Champlain, and how far it was from Plattsburgh to this, 

tliat, and t' other place ; but, Lord ! he told me a d d sight more 

than i could tell /a'/n." The passengers in the sleigh were Horace, 
his parents, his brother, and two sisters, and all arrived safely at the 
little house in Westhaven, — safely, hut very, very poor. They pos- 
sessed the clothes they wore on their journey, a bed or two, a few 
— very few— domestic utensils, an antique chest, and on? or two 
other small relics of their former state ; and they possessed notldng 
more. 

A lady, who was then a little girl, and, as little girls in the coun- 
try will, used to run in and out of the neighbors' houses at all hours 
without ceremony, tells me that, many times, during that winter 
she saw the newly-arrived family taking sustenance in tlie follow 
ing manner : — A live-quart milk-pan filled with bean porridge- -&h 
hereditary dish among tlie Scotch-Irish — was placed upon the floor, 
\he children clustering around it. Each child was provided with a 
spoon, and dipped into the porridge, the spoon going directly from 
the common dish to the particular mouth, without an intermediate 
landing upon a plate, the meal consisting of porridge, and porridge 
only. Tbe parents sat at a table, and enjoyed the dignity of a sep- 
arate dish. This was a homely way of dining ; but, adds my kind 
informant, "they seemed so liappy over their meal, that many a 
time, as I looked upon the group, I wished our mother would let ux 
eat in that way — it seemed so much better than sitting at a table 
and using knives, and forks, and plates." There was no repining in 
the family over their altered circumstances, nor any attempt to con- 
ceal the scantiness of their furniture. To what the world call."! " ap- 
pearances" they seemed constitution tlly insensible. 



CHAPTER IIT. 

AT WESTHAVEX, VERMONT. 

Deicription of Ihe coiinlry— Clearing up Land— All the family assist a )a Swiss I'an*- 
ily-Robinson— Primitive costume of Ilonico — Flis early iiuliflereiice l> dress— Hl» 
nwnuer and attitude in scliool — A Peacemaker anion? the boys — Gets into a scrape, 
and out of it— Assists his school-fellows in their studies — An evening scene ai 
home — Hiirace knows too much — Disconcerts his teachers by his questions — Leaves 
school — The pine knots still blaze on the hearth — Reads incessantly — Becomes a 
great draught player— Bee-hunting— Reads at the Mansion Flouse— Taken for an 
Idiot— And for a possilde President — Reads Mrs. Ilcmans with rapture— A Woll 
Story — A Pedestrian .iDuriiey— Horace and the horseman— Yoking the Oxen — 
Scene with an o!d Soaker— Rum in Westhaven— Horace's First Pledge— Narrow 
escape from drowning— His religious doubts— Becomes a Universalist— Discovers 
Uie humbug of " Democracy " — Impatient to begin his apprenticeship. 

The family were gainers in some important particulars, by their 
change of residence. The land was better. The settlement was 
more recent. There was a better chance for a poor man to acquire 
property. And what is well worth mention for its effect upon the 
opening mind of Horace, the scenery was grander and more various. 
Tliat part of Eutland county is in nature's large manner. Long 
ranges of hills, with bases not too steep for cultivation, but rising 
into lofty, precipitous and fantastic summits, stretch away in every 
direction. The low-lands are level and fertile. Brooks and rivers 
come out from among the hills, where they have been officiating as 
water-power, and flow down through valleys that open and expand 
to receive them, fertilizing the soil. Roaming among these hills, 
the boy must have come frequently upon little lakes locked in on 
every side, without apparent outlet or inlet, as smooth as a mirror, 
as silent as the grave. Six miles from his father's house was the 
great Lake Chainplain. He could not see it from his father's door, 
but he could see the blue mist that rose from its surface every 
morning and evening, f.ad hung over it, a cloud veiling a Mystery. 
And he could see ti.e long line of green knoll-like hills that 
formed its opposite shore. And he could go down on Sundays to 
Ihe shore itself, and stand in the immediate presence of the lake. 
28 



24 AT WESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

N'or is it a slight tiling for a boy to see a great natural object which 
Le has been learning about in his school books ; nor is it an unin- 
fluential circumstance for him to live -where he can see it frequent- 
ly. It was a superb country for a boy to grow up in, whether his 
tendencies were industrial, or sportive, or artistic, or poetical, 
There was rough work enough to do on the land. Fish were 
abundant in the lakes and streams. Game abounded in the woods. 
Wild grapes and wild honey were to be had for the search after 
them. Much of the surronnding scenery is sublime, and what i3 
not sublime is beautiful. Moreover, Lake Champlain is a stage cm 
tlie route of northern and southern travel, and living upon its shores 
brought the boy nearer to that world in AAhich he was destined to 
move, and which he had to know before he could work in it to 
advantage. At Westhaven, Horace passed the next five years of 
his life. lie was now rather tall for his age ; his mind was far in 
advance of it. Many of the opinions for which he has since done 
battle, were distinctly formed during that important period of his 
life to which the present chapter is devoted. 

At Westhaven, Mr. Greeley, as they say in the country, 
' took jobs ;' and the jobs which he took were of various kinds. 
lie would contract to get in a harvest, to prepare the ground 
for a new one, to ' tend ' a saw-mill ; but his principal employ- 
ment was clearing up land; that is, piling up and burning the trees 
after they had been felled. After a time he kept sheep and cat- 
tle. In most of his undertakings he prospered. By incessant labor 
and by reducing his expenditures to the lowest possible point, he 
saved money, slowly but continuously'. 

In whatever he engaged, whether it was haying, harvesting, 
sawing, or land-clearing, he was assisted by all his family. There 
was little work to do at home, and after breakfast, the house wag 
left to take care of itself, and away went the family, father, mother, 
boys, girls, and oxen, to work together. Clearing land offers an 
excellent field for family labor, as it afibrds work adapted to all de- 
grees of strength. The father chopped the larger logs, and direct- 
ed the labor of all the company. Horace drove the oxen, and 
vlrove them none too well, say the neighbors, and was gradually 
supplanted in the office of driver b}- his younger brotlier. Both 
the boys could chop the smaller trees. Their mother and sistera 



PRIMITIVE COSTUME OF HORACE. 25 

^thered logetlicr the light -wood into heaps. And when tlio 
great logs had to bo rolled upon one another, there was scope for 
die combined skill and strength of tiio wliole party. Many happy 
and merry days the family spent together in this employment. 
The mother's spirit never flagged, ller voice rose in song and 
laugliter from the tangled brush-wood in which she was often bur- 
ied; and no word, discordant or unkind, was ever known {3 
break the perfect harmony, to interrupt the perfect good humo: 
that prevailed in the family. At night, tliey went home to tlie 
most primitive of suppers, and partook of it in the picturesque and 
labor-saving style in which the dinner before alluded to was con- 
Bunied. Tlie neiglibors still point out a tract of fifty acres whicli 
was cleared in this sportive and Swiss-Family-Eobinson-like man- 
ner. They show the spring on the side of the road where the fam- 
ily used to stop and drink on their way ; and they show a hem- 
lock-tree, growing frum the rocks above the spring, which used 
vo furnish tlie brooms, weekly renewed, Avhich swept the little 
house in which tlie little family lived. To complete the picture, 
imagine them all clad in the same material, the coarsest kind of 
linen or linsey-woolsey, home-spun, dyed with butternut bark, 
and the different garments made in the roughest and simplest man- 
ner by the mother. 

More than three garments at the same time, Horace seldom wore la 
the summer, and these were — a straw hat, generally in a state of 
dilapidation, a tow-shirt, never buttoned, a pair of trousers made of 
the family material, and having the peculiarity of being very short 
in both legs, but shorter in one than the other. In the winter he 
added a pair of slioes am' a jacket. During the five years of his 
■^fe at "Westhaven, probably '^is clothes did not cost three dollars a 
year; and, I believe, that durm^. the whole period of his childhood, 
Dp to the time wlien he came ol .ce, not fifty dollars in all were 
expended upon his dress. lie never nanifested, on any occasion, in 
any company, nor at any part of his eai'v life, tlie slightest interest 
in 1.13 attire, nor the least care for its effect upon others. That 
amiable trait in human nature which inchues us to decoration, 
which make us desirous to present an agreealj'e figure to others, 
aLd to abhor peculiarity in our appearance, is a trait which Iloraca 
never gave the smallest evidence of possessing. 



26 AT WESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

Se went to school three winters in Westluiven, but net t<^ an) 
great advantage. lie had already gone tlie round of district schooi 
studies, and did little more after his tenth year than walk over the 
course, keeping lengths ahead of all competitors, with little effort- 
" He was always," says one of his "Westhaven schoolmates, " at 
the top of tlie school. lie seldom had a teach.er tliat could teach 
Iiim anytliing. Once, and once only, he missed a word. His fair 
face Avas crimsoned in an instant. He was terribly c«< about it, and 
I fancied he was not himself for a week after. I see him now, as 
he sat in class, with his slender body, his large head, liis open, 
ample forehead, his pleasant smile, and his coarse, clean, homespun 
clothes. His attitude was always the same. He sat with his arms 
loosely folded, his head bent forward, his legs crossed, and one foot 
swinging. He did not seem to pay attention, but nothing escaped 
liim. He appeared to attend more from curiosity to hear what sort of 
work we made of the lesson than from any interest he took in the 
subject for his own sake. Once, I parsed a word egreglously wrong, 
and Horace was so taken aback by the mistake that he was startled 
from his propriety, and exclaimed, loud enough for the class to hear 
him, ' What a fool !' The manner of it was so ludicrous that I, and 
all the class, burst into laughter." 

Another schoolmate remembers him chiefly for his gentle manner 
and obliging disposition. " I never," she says, "knew him to fight, 
or to be angry, or to have an enemy. He was a peacemaker among 
OS. He played with the boys sometimes, and I think was fonder 
of snowballing than any other game. For girls, as girls, he never 
manifested any preference. On one occasion he got into a scrape. 
He had broken some petty rule of the school, and was required, as 
a punishment, to inflict a certain number of blows upon another 
boy, who had, I think, been a participator in the offense. The in- 
strument of flagellation was placed in Horace's hand, and he drew 
off, 33 though he was going to deal a terrific blow, but it came 
down so gently on the boy's jacket that every one saw that Horace 
was shamming. The teacher interfered, and told him to strike 
harder; and a little harder he did strike, but a more harmless flog- 
ging was never administered. He seemed not to have the power 
any more than the will, to inflict pain." 

If Horace got little good himself from his last winters at school 



DISCONCERTS HIS TEACHERS. 27 

ae was of groat assistance to las sclioolfollows in explaining to tlicin 
the ditliculties of their lessons. Few evenings passed in which 
Bonie strapping follow did not come to the house with his grammar 
<.ir his slate, and sit demurely by the side of Horace, while the dis- 
tracting sum was exjilained, or the dark place in the parsing les- 
son illuminated. The boy doliglitod to render such assistance. 
Rowevcr deeply he might be absorbed in his own studies, as soon 
as he saw a puzzled countenance ])eering in at the door, he knew 
his man, knew what was wanted ; and would jump up from hi? 
recumbent posture in the chimney-corner, and proceed, with & 
patience that is still gratefully remembered, with a perspicuity that 
is still mentioned with admiration, to impart the information re- 
quired of him. Fancy it. It is a pretty picture. The 'little white- 
headed fellow ' generally so abstracted, now all intelligence and ani- 
mation, by the side of a great hulk of a young man, twice his age 
and three times his weight, with a countenance expressing perplex- 
ity and despair. An apt question, a reminding word, a few figures 
hastily scratched on the slate, and light flashes on the puzzled mind. 
He wonders he had not thought of that: he wishes Heaven had 
given him such a ' head-piece.' 

To some of his teachers at Westhaven, Horace was a cause of 
great annoyance. He knew too much. He asked awkvrard ques- 
tions. He was not to be put off with common-place solutions of 
serious difficulties. He wanted things to hang together, and liked 
to know how, if this was true, that could be true also. At length, 
one of his teachers, when Horace was thirteen years old, had the 
honesty and good sense to go to his father, and say to him, point 
blank, that Horace knew more than he did, and it was of no use for 
liim to go to school any more. So Horace remained at home, read 
hard all that winter in a little room by himself, and taught his) 
youngest sister beside. He had attended district school, altogether, 
about forty-five months. 

At Westhaven, the pine-knots blazed on the hearth as brightly 
and as continuously as they had doce at the old home in Amherst. 
There was a new reason wliy they should ; for a candle was a lux- 
ury now, too expensive to be indulged in. Horace's home was a 
favorite evening resort for the children of the neighborhood — a fact 
Svhich says much for the kindly spirit of its inmates. They came 



28 AT \rESTnAVEir, Vermont. 

to hear liis mother's songs and stories, to play with Lis brother and 
sisters, to get assistance from himself ; and they hked to he there, 
where there was no stiffness, nor ceremony, nor discord. Horace 
cared notliing for their noise and romping, but he could never be 
induced to join in an active game. "When h-e was not assisting 
some bewildered arithmetician, he lay in the old position, on his 
back in the fireplace, reading, always reading. The boys would 
hide his book, but he would get another. They would pull hira out 
of his fiery den by the leg ; and he would crawl back, without the 
least show of anger, but without the slightest inclination to yield 
the point. 

There was a game, however, which could sometimes tempt him 
from his book, and of which he gradually became excessively fond. 
Tt was draughts, or 'checkers.' In that game he acquired extraor- 
dinary skill, beating everybody in the neighborhood ; and before he 
had reached maturity, there were few draught-players in the coun- 
try — if any — who could win two games in tliree of Horace Greeley. 
His cronies at Westhaven seem to have been those who were fond 
of draughts. In his passion for books, he wa? alone among his 
companions, who attributed his continual reading more to indolence 
than to his acknowledged superiority of intelligence. It was often 
predicted that, whoever else might prosper, Horace never would. 

And yet, he gave proof, in very early hfe, that the Yankee ele- 
ment was strong within him. In the first place, he u-as always dO' 
ing something; and, in the second, he always had something to sell. 
He saved nuts, and exchanged tliera at the store for the articles he 
wiphed to purchase. He would hack away, hours at a time, at a 
pitch-pine stump, the roots of which are as inflammable as pitch 
itself, and, tying up the roots in little bundles, and the little bundles 
into one large one, he would "back" the load to the store, and sell 
it for kindling wood. His favorite out-door sport, too, at West- 
'aaven, was bee-hunting, which is not only an agreeable and excit- 
ing pastime, but occasionally rewards the hunter with a prodigious 
mass of honey — as much as a hundred and fifty pounds having been 
frequently obtained from a single tree. This was profitable sport, 
and Horace liked it amazingly. His share of the honey generally 
found its way to the store. By these and other expedients, the boy 
managed always to have a little money, and when a peddler camu 



TAKEN FOR AN IDIOT. 29 

along With books in liis wagon, Horace was pretty sure to bo his 
customer. Yet ho was only lialf a Yankee, lie conhl earn money, 
>ut the bargaining facuhy he iiad not. 

"Wliat did he read ? "Wliatever he could get. But his preference 
was for history, poetry, and — newspapers. lie had read, as I have 
before mentioned, the wliole Bible before he was six years old. 
He read the Arabian Niglits witli intense pleasure in his eiglith 
year ; Rv)binsou Crusoe in his nintli ; Shakspcare in his eleventh ; 
in his twelftli, thirteenth, and fourteenth years, lie read a good 
many of the common, superficial histories — Robertson's, Gold- 
smitii's, and others — and as many tales and romances as he could 
borrow. At Westhaven, as at Amherst, he roamed far and wide 
in search of books. lie was fortunate, too, in living near the 
' mansion-house' before mentioned, the proprietor of whicli, it ap- 
pears, took some interest in Horace, freely lent him books, and 
allowed him to como to the house and read there as often and as 
long as he chose. 

A story is told by one who lived at the ' ni;ui>i(in-h()use' when 
Horace used to read there. Horace entered the library one da}', 
when the master of the liouse happened to be present, in conversa- 
tion with a stranger. The stranger, struck with the awkwardness 
and singular appearance of the boy, took him for little better than 
an idiot, and was inclined to laugh at the idea of lending books to 
'such a fellow as that.^ The owner of the mansion defended his 
conduct by extolling the intelligence of his protege, and wound up 
with the usual climax, that lie should " not be surprised, sir, if that 
boy should come to be President of the United States." People in 
those days had a high respect for the presidential office, and really 
believed — man}' of them did — that to get the highest place it was 
only necessary to be the greatest man. Hence it was a very com. 
mon mode of praising a boy, to make the safe assertion that ho 
might, one day, if he persevered in well-doing, be the President of 
the United States. Tliut was before the era of wire-pulling and 
rotation in office. He must be either a very young or a very old 
man w);o can now mention the presidential office in connection 
witli the future of any boy not extraordinarily vicious. Wire-pull- 
\ng, happily, has robbed the schoolmasters of one of their bad argu« 
merts for a virtuous life. But we are wandering from the library. 



30 AT WESTHAVEK, VERMONT. 

The end of the story is, tliat the stranger looked as if he IhougU 
Horace's defender half mad liimself; and, "to tell the truth," said 

the ladywho told me the story, "we all thought Mr. had made 

a crazy speecli." Horace does not appear to have made a fovorable 
impression at the ' mausion-house.' 

But he read the books in it, for all tiiat. Perhaps it was there, 
that he fell in with a copy of Mrs. Hemans' poems, which, wher- 
ever he found them, were the first poems that awakened his entliu^ 
eiasm, the first writings that made him aware of the better impulses 
of ])is nature. "I remember," he wrote in the Rose of Sharon for 
1841, "as of yesterday, the gradual uufolduig of the exceeding 
truthfulness and beauty, the profound heart-knowledge (to coia a 
Germanism) which characterizes Mrs. Hemans' poems, upon my 
own immature, unfolding mind. — ' Cassabianca,' 'Things tha*; 
change,' 'The Voice of Spring,' 'The Traveler at the Source of 
the Nile,' ' The Wreck,' and many other poems of kindred nature 
are enshrined in countless hearts — especially of those whose intel- 
lectual existence dates its commencement between 1820 and 1830 — 
as gems of priceless value ; as spirit-wands, by whose electric touch 
they were first made conscious of the diviner aspirations, the loft- 
ier, holier energies within them." 

Such a testimony as this may teach the reader, if he needs the 
lesson, not to undervalue the authors whom his fastidious tasto 
may place among the Lesser Lights of Literature. To you, fastid- 
ious reader, those authors may have little to impart. But among 
the hills in the country, where the feelings are fresher, and minds 
are unsated by literary sweets, there may be many a thoughtful boy 
and earnest man, to whom your Lesser Lights are Suns that warm, 
illumine, and quicken ! 

The incidents in Horace's life at Westhaven were few, and of the 
few that did occur, several have doubtless been forgotten. The 
people there remember him vividly enough, and are profuse in im- 
parting their general impressions of his character; but the facts 
which gave rise to those impressions have mostly escaped their 
memories. They speak of him as an absorhed boy, who rarely 
saluted or saw a passer-by — who would walk miles at the road-side, 
following the zig-zag of the fences, without once looking up — who 
was often taken by strangers for a natural fool, but was known bj 



A WOLF STORY. 31 

his intimates to be, in the language ot" one of tlieni — " a darneJ 
Bmart fellow, in spite of his looks" — who was utterly blameless in 
all liis ways, and works, ami words — who had not, and could not 
have had, an enemy, because nature, by leaving out of his compo 
sition the diabolic element, had made it impossible for him to bt 
one. The few occurrences of the boy's life, which, in addition to 
these general reminiscences of his character, have chanced to escapo 
oblivion, may as well be narrated here. 

As an instance of his nervous timidity, a lady mentions, that 
when he was about eleven years old, he came to her house one even- 
ing on some errand, and staid till after dark. He started for home, 
at length, but had not been gone many minutes before he burst into 
the house again, in great agitation, saying he had seen a wolf bj- 
the side of the road. There had been rumors of wolves in the 
neighborhood. Horace declared he had seen the eyes of one glar- 
ing upon him as he passed, and he was so overcome with terror, 
that two of the elder girls of the family accompanied him home. 
They saw no wolf, nor were there any wolves about at the time ; 
the mistake probably arose from some phosphorescent wood, or 
some other bright object. A Vermont boy of that period, as a gen- 
eral thing, cared little more for a wolf tlian a New York boy does 
for a cat, and could have faced a pack of wolves with far less dread 
than a company of strangers. Horace was never abashed by an 
audience; but two glaring eye-balls among the brush-wood sent 
him flying with terror. 

In nothing are mortals more Avise than in their fears. That wliich 
we stigmatize as cowardice — what is it but nature's kindly warning 
to her children, not to confront what they cannot master, and not 
to undertake what their strength is unequal to? Horace was a 
match for a rustic auditory, and he feared it not. He was not a 
match for a wild beast ; so he ran away. Considerate nature ! 

Horace, all through his boyhood, kept his object of becoming a 
printer steadily in view ; and soon after coming to Vermont, about 
his eleventh year, he began to think it time for him to take a step 
towards the fulfillment of his intention. He talked to his father on 
the subject, but received no encouragement from him. His father 
said, and very truly, that no one would take an apprentice so young. 
Bat the boy was not satisfied; and, one mor:'ing, he trudged off to 



32 AT ■WESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

Whitehall, a town about nine miles distant, where a newspaper was 
published, to make inquiries. He went to the printing office, sa'v* 
tlie printer, and learned that his father was right. He was too 
young, the printer said ; and so the boy trudged home again, 

A few months after, he went on another and much longer pedes- 
trian expedition. He started, with seventy-five cents in his pocket 
and a small bundle of provisions on a stick over his shoulder, to 
walk to Londonderry, a hundred and twenty miles distant, to see 
his old friends and relatives. He performed the journey, staid sev- 
ral weeks, and came back with a shilling or two more money than 
lie took with him — owing, we may infer, to the amiable way aunts 
and uncles have of bestowing small coins upon nephews who visit 
them. His re-appearance in New Hampshire excited unbounded 
astonishment, his age and dimensions seeming ludicrously out of 
proportion to the length and manner of his solitary journey. He 
was made much of during his stay, and his journey is still spoken 
of there as a wonderful performance, only exceeded, in fact, by 
Horace's second return to Londonderry a year or two after, when 
he drove, over the same ground, his aunt and her four children, in 
a 'one-horse wagon,' and drove back again, without the slightest 
accident. 

As a set-off to these marvels, it must be recorded, that on two 
other occasions he was taken for an idiot — once, when he entered 
a store, in one of the brownest of his brown studies, and a stranger 
inquired, "What darn fool is that?"— and a second time, in the 
manner following. He was accustomed to call his father "/SiV," 
both in speaking to, and speaking of him. One day, while Horace 
was chopping wood by the side of the road, a man came up on 
horse-back and inquired the way to a distant town. Horace could 
Dot tell him, and, without looking ->p, said, " ask Sir,'' meaning, ask 
father. The stranger, puzzled at this reply, repeated his questioa 
and Horace again said, "ask SirP "I am asking," shouted the 
man. " Well, ask Sir^' said Horace, once more. " Aint I asking, 
you— fool?" screamed the man. " But I want you to ask Sir^' said 
Horace. It was of no avail, the man rode away in disgust, and 
inquired at the next tavern "who that tow-headed fool was down 
the road?" 

Tn a similai- absent fit it must have been, that the boy once at- 



TORINO THE OXEN. 33 

tempted, in yain, to yoke tlio oxen that he had yoked a hundred 
times before -without difficulty. To see a small boy yoking a pair 
of oxen is, O City Reader, to behold an amazing exhibition of the 
power of Mind over Matter. The huge beasts need not come undet 
ihe yoke — twenty men could not compel tliem — hut they do como 
under it at tJio beck of a boy that can just stagger under the yoko 
himself, and wliom one of the oxen, with one horn and a shake of 
tiie head, could toss over a hay-stack. The boy, with the yoke on 
his shoulders, and one of the 'bows' in his hand, marches up to 
the 'off' ox, puts the bow round his neck, thrusts the ends of the 
bow through the holes of the yoke, fastens them there— and one 
ox is his. But the other! The boy then removes the other boAV, 
holds up the end of the yoke, and commands tlie 'near' ox to 
approach, and 'come under here, sir.' Wonderful to relate! the 
near ox obeys ! He walks slowly up, and takes his place by the 
side of his brother, as though it were a pleasant thing to pant all 
day before the plough, and he was only too happy to leave the dull 
pasture. But the ox is a creature of habit. If you catch the near 
ox first, and then try to get the off ox to come under the near side 
of the 3'oke, you will discover that the off ox has an opinion of his 
own. He won't come. This was the mistake which Horace, one 
morning in an absent fit, committed, and the off ox could not be 
brought to deviate from established usage. After much coaxing, 
and, possibly, some vituperation, Horace was about to give it up, 
when his brother chanced to come to the field, who saw at a glance 
what was the matter, and rectified the mistake. "Ah !" his father 
used to say, after Horace had made a display of this kind, "that 
boy will never get along in this world. He '11 never know more 
than enough to come in when it rains." 

Another little story is told of the brothers. The younger was 
browing stones at a pig that preferred to go in a direction exactly 
contrary to that in which the boys wished to drive him — a com- 
mon case with pigs, et cetera. Horace, who never threw stones at 
pigs, was overheard to sa}, "Now, you ought n't to throw stones 
at that Log ; he don't Tcnow anything." 

The person who heard these words uttered by the boy, is one of 
tiosebibulant individuals who, in the rural districts, are called 'old 
•K ikers,' and his face, tobacco-stained, and rubicund with the 
3 



34 AT WESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

ilrinks of forty years, gleamed with the light of other days, as h4 
hiccoughed out the little tale. It may serve to show how the boy 
:s remembered in Westhaven, if I add a word or two respecting my 
interview with this man. I met him on an unfrequented road; his 
hair was gray, his step was tottering; and thinking it probable be 
might be able to add to my stock of reminiscences, I asked him 
whether he remembered Horace Greeley. He mumbled a few 
words in reply ; but I perceived that he was far gone towards in- 
toxication, and soon drove on. A moment after, I heard a voice call- 
ing behind me. I looked round, and discovered that the voice was 
that of the soaker, who was shouting for me to stop. I alighted 
and went back to him. And now that the idea of ray previous 
questions had had time to imprint itself upon his half-torpid brain, 
his tongue was loosened, and he entered into the subject with an 
enthusiasm that seemed for a time to burn up the fumes that had 
stupefied him. He was full of his theme ; and, besides confirming 
much that I had already heard, added the story related above, from 
his own recollection. As the tribute of a sot to the champion of 
the Maine-Law, the old man's harangue was highly interesting. 

That part of the town of Westhaven Avas, thirty years ago, a 
desperate place for drinking. The hamlet in which the family 
lived longer than anywhere else in the neighborhood, has ceased to 
exist, and it decayed principally through the intemperance of its 
inhabitants. Much of the land about it has not been improved in 
the least degree, from what it was when Horace Greeley helped to 
clear it ; and drink has absorbed the means and the energy which 
should have been devoted to its improvement. A boy growing up 
in such a place would be likely to become either a drunkard or a 
tee-totaler, according to his organization ; and Horace became the 
latter. It is rather a singular fact, that, though both his parents 
and all their ancestors were accustomed to the habitual and liberal 
use of intoxicating liquors and tobacco, neither Horace nor his 
brother could ever be induced to partake of either. They had a 
constitutional aversion to the taste of both, long before they under- 
stood the nature of the human system well enough to know that 
Etimulants of all kinds are necessarily pernicious. Horace was 
therefore a tee-totaler before tee-totalism came up, nnd he took a 
eort of pledge before the pledge was inverted. It happened one 



NARROW ESCAPE FROM DROWNING. 35 

day that a neiglibor stopped to take dinner witli tlic family, and, 
as a matter of course, the bottle of rum was brought out for hi; 
entertainment. Horace, it appears, either tastdd a little, or else 
took a disgust at the smell of the stuff, or perhaps was offended at 
the effects which he saw it produce. An idea struck him. He 
eaid, "Fatlier, what will you give me if I do not drink a drop of 
liquor till I am twenty -one ?" His father, avIio took the question as 
a joke, answered, "Til give you a dollar." "It's a bargain," said 
Horace. And it was a bargain, at least on the side of Horace, who 
kept bis pledge inviolate, though I have no reason to believe he 
ever received his dt)llar. Many were the attempts made by his 
friends, then and afterwards, to induce him to break bis resolution, 
and on one occasion they tried to force some liquor into his mouth. 
But from the day on which the conversation given above occurred, 
to this day, he has not knowingly taken into his system any alco- 
holic liquid. 

At Westhaven, Horace incurred the second peril of his life. He 
was nearly strangled in coming into the world ; and, in his thirteenth 
year, he was nearly strangled out of it. The family were then 
living on the banks of the Hubbarton river, a small stream which 
supplied power to the old 'Tryon Sawmill,' which the father, as- 
sisted by his boys, conducted for a year or two. Across the river, 
where it was widened by the dam, there was no bridge, and people 
were accustomed to get over on a floating saw-log, pushing along 
the log by means of a pole. The boys were floating about in the 
river one day, when the log on which the younger brother was 
standing, rolled over, and in went the boy, over head and ears, 
into water deep enough to drown a giraffe. He rose to the surface 
and clung to the bark of the log, but was unable to get upon it 
from the same cause as that which had prevented his standing upon 
it — it would roll. Horace hastened to his assistance. He got upon 
Ihc log to which his brother was clinging, lay down upon it, and 
put down a hand for his brother to grasp. His brother did grasp 
it, and pulled with so much vigor, that the log made another rev- 
olution, and in went Horace Neither of the boys could swim. 
They clung to the log and screamed for assistance ; but no one hap- 
pened to be near enough to hear them. At length, the younger of 
Oie drowning pair managed, by climbing over Horace, and sousing 



<?5 AT WESTHAVEN, VERMONT, 

him completely under the log, to get out. Horace emerged, half- 
drowned, and agaia liung for life at the rough bark. But the future 
hero of ten thousand paragraplis Avas not to be browned in a mill- 
pond; so the log floated into shallower water, when, by making a 
last, spasmodic effort, he succeeded in springing up high enough to 
get safely upon its broad back. It was a narrow escape for both ; 
but Horace, with all his reams of articles forming in his head, cams 
as near taking a summary departure to that bourn where no 
Teibtjxe could have been set up, as a boy could, and yet not go. 
He went dripping home, and recovered from the effects of his ad- 
''enture in due time. 

This was Horace Greeley's Jirsi experience of 'log-rolling.' It 
'vas not calculated to make him like it. 

One of the first subjects which the boy seriously considered, and 
perhaps the first upon which he arrived at a decided opinion, was 
Religion. And this was the more remarkable from the fact, that 
his education at home was not of a nature to direct his attention 
strongly to the subject. Both of his i)arents assented to the Ortho- 
dox creed of Xew England ; his father inherited a preference for 
the Baptist denomination ; his mother a leaning to the Presbyter- 
ian, But neither were members of a church, find neither were par- 
ticularly devout. . The father, however, wa.H somewhat strict in 
certain observances. He would not allow novels and plays to be 
read in the house on Sundays, nor an heretical book at anj' time. 
The family, when they lived near a church, attended it Avith con- 
siderable regularity — Horace among the rest. Sometimes the father 
would require the children to read a certain number of chapters in 
the Bible on Sunday. And if the mother — as mothers are apt to 
be — was a little less scrupulous upon such points, and occasionally 
winked at Sunday novel-reading, it certainly did not arise from any 
set disapproval of her husband's strictness. It was merely that she 
was the mother, he the father, of the family. The religious educa- 
tion of Horace Avas, in short, of a nature to leave his mind, not un- 
biased in favor of orthodoxy — that had been almost impossible in 
NeAv England thirty years ago — but as nearly in equilibrium on the 
Bubject, in a state as favorable to original inquiry, as the place and 
circumstances of his early life rendered possibk. 

Therfi was not in Westhaven one individual whc wa;' know\: tc 



THE STORY OF DEMETRIUS. 37 

be a dissenter from the cstabliohed faitli ; nor was tlicre any dis- 
Benting sect or society in the vicinity ; nor was any periodical of a 
heterodox character taken in the neighborliood; nor did any heret- 
ical works fall in the boy's way till years after his religious opinions 
were settled. Yet, from the age of twelve he began to doubt; 
and at fourteen — to use the pathetic language of one who knew 
him then — " lie was little better than a Uni versa) ist." 

The theology of the seminary and the theology of the farm-house 
are two different things. They arc as unlike as the discussion of the 
capital punishment question in a debating society is to the dis- 
cussion of the same question among a company of criminals ac- 
cused of murder. The unsophisticated, rural mind meddles not 
with the metaphysics of divinity; it takes little interest in the 
Foreknowledge and Free-will difficulty, in the Election and Respon- 
sibility problem, and the manifold subtleties connected therewith. 
It grapples with a simpler question: — '■ Am I in danger ofbeing 
damned ?' ' Is it likely that I shall go to hell, and be tormented with 
burning sulphur, and the proximity of a serpent, forever, and ever, 
and ever?' To minds of an ampler and more generous nature, the 
same question presents itself, but in another form : — Is it a fact that 
nearly every individual of the human family will forever fail of at* 
taining the welfare of which he was created capable, and be ' lost, 
beyond the hope, beyond the possibility of recovery ?' Upon the 
latter form of the inquiry, Horace meditated much, and talked 
often during his thirteenth and fourteenth years. When his com- 
panions urged the orthodox side, he would rather object, but mildly, 
and say with a puzzled look, "It don't seem consistent." 

While he was in the habit of revolving such thoughts in his mind, 
a circumstance occurred which accelerated his progress towards a 
rejection of the damnation dogma. It was nothing more than his 
chance reading in a school-book of the history of Demetrius Polior- 
cites. The part of the story which bore upon the subject of his 
\houghts may be out-lined thus: — 

Demetrius, (B. C. SOI,) surnamed Poliorcfetes, lesieger of cities^ 
was the son of Antigorus, one of those generals whom the deatli 
of Alexander the Great left masters of the world. Demetrius waa 
one of the ' fast ' princes of antiquity, a handsome, brave, ingen- 



38 AT WESTIIAVEN, VERMONT. 

aous man, but vain, rash and dissolute. He and his father rnled 
over Asia Minor and Syria. Greece was under the sway of Cassander 
and Ptolemy, who had re-established in Athens aristocratic institu 
rions, and held the Athenians in servitude. Demetrius, who aspired 
to the glory of succoring the distressed, and was not averse to re- 
ducing the power of his enemies, Cassander and Ptolemy, sailed 
:o Athens with a fleet of two hundred and fifty ships, expelled the 
garrison and obtained possession of the city. Antigonus had been 
advised to retain possession of Athens, the key of Greece; but he 
rcjdied: — "The best and securest of all keys is the friendship of 
the peojde, and Athens was the watch-tower of the world, from 
whence the torch of his glory would blaze over the earth." Ani- 
mated by such sentiments, his son, Demetrius, on reaching the city, 
had proclaimed that "his father, in a happy hour, he hoped, for 
Athens, had sent him to re-instate them in their liberties, and to re- 
store their laws and ancient form of government." The Athen- 
ians received him with acclamations. lie performed all that he 
promised, and more. He gave the people a hundred and fifty 
thousand measures of meal, and timber enough to build a hundred 
galleys. The gratitude of the Athenians was boundless. They be- 
stowed upon Demetrius the title of king and god-protector. They 
erected an altar upon the spot where he had first alighted from his 
chariot. They created a priest in his honor, and decreed that he 
should be recei^^d in all his future visits as a god. They changed 
the name of the month MunycMon to Demetrion, called the last 
day of every m( nth Demetrius^ and the feasts of Bacchus Demetria. 
"The gods," say? the good Plutarch, "soon showed how much of- 
fended they wo'-9 at these things." Demetrius enjoyed these ex- 
travagant hono'-s for a time, added an Athenian Avife to the number 
lie already possessed, and sailed away to prosecute the war. A sec- 
ond time tJ:ie Athenians were threatened with the yoke of Cassander : 
again Demetrms, with a fleet of three hundred and thirty ships, 
came to their deliverance, and again the citizens taxed their ingenu- 
ity to the utmost in devising for their deliverer new honors and moro 
piquant pleasures. At length Demetrius, after a career of victory 
fell into misfortune. His domains were invaded, his father was 
slain, the kingdom was dismembered, and Demetrius, with a rem- 
nant of his army, was obliged tf) fly. Reaching Ephesus in want of 



THE STORY OF DEMETRIUS. 39 

motley, he spared tlie temjile filled with treasure ; and fearing hia 
soldiers would plunder it, left the place and eniUarked for Greece. 
Ilis dependence was upon the Athenians, Avitli whom lie had left his 
wife, his ships, and his money. Confidently relying upon their af 
fection and gratitude, he jiursued his voyage Avith all possible ex- 
j)edition as to a secure asylum. But thejiclde Atlienians failed Mm 
in his day of need! At the Cyclades, Athenian ambassadors met 
hiin, and mocked him with the entreaty that he would by no means 
go to Athens, as the people had declared by an edict, that they 
would receive no king into the city ; and as for his wife, he could 
find her at Megare, whither she liad been conducted with the re- 
spect due to her rank. Demetrius, who up to that moment had 
borne his reverses with calmness, was cut to the heart, and over- 
come by mingled disgust and rage. lie was not in a condition to 
avenge the wrong. He expostulated with the Athenians in mod- 
erate terms, and waited only to be joined by his galley's, and turned 
his back upon the ungrateful country. Time passed. Demetrius 
again became powerful. Athens was rent by factions. Availing 
himself of the occasion, the injured king sailed with a consider- 
able fleet to Attica, landed his forces and invested the city, which 
wassoon reduced to such extremity of famine that a father and 
son, it is related, fought for the possession of a dead mouse that 
happened to fall from the ceiling of the room in which they were 
sitting. The Athenians were compelled, at length, to open their 
gates to Demetrius, who marched in with his troops. He com- 
manded all the citizens to assemble in the theater. They obeyed. 
Utterly at his mercy, they expected no mercy, felt that they deserved 
no mercy. The theater was surrounded with armed men, and on 
each side of the stage was stationed a body of the king's own 
guards. Demetrius entered by the tragedian's passage, advanced 
across the stage, and confronted the assembled citizens, who await- 
ed in terror to hear the signal for their slaughter. But no such 
signal Avas heard. He addressed them in a soft and persuasive 
•«ne, complained of their conduct in gentle terms, forgave their in- 
"jratitude, took thein again into favor, gave the city a hundred tliou- 
sand measures of wheat, and promised the re-establishment of their 
ancient institutions. The people, relieved from their terror, aston- 
,8hed at their good fortune, and filled with enthusiasm at sucli 



40 AT WESTHAVEN VERMONT. 

generous forbearance, overwhelmed Demetrius with acclaiaa 
tions. 

Horace was fascinated by the storv. He thonght the conduct of 
Demetrius not only magnanimous and humane, but just and politic 
Sparing the people, misguided by their leaders, seemed to him tlia 
best way to make them ashamed of their ingratitude, and the besV 
way of preventing its recurrence. And he argued, if mercy is best 
and wisest on a small scale, can it be less so on a large ? If a man 
is capable of such lofty magnanimity, may not God be who made 
man capable of it? If, in a human being, revenge and jealousy are 
despicable, petty and vulgar, what impiety is it to attribute such 
feelings to the beneficent Father of the Universe ? The sin of the 
Athenians against Demetrius had every element of enormity. 
Twice he had snatched them from the jaws of ruin. Twice he 
had supplied their dire necessity. Twice he had refused all reward 
except the empty honors they paid to his name and person. He 
had condescended to become one of them by taking a daughter of 
Athens as his wife. He had entrusted his wife, his ships and his 
treasure to their care. Yet in the day of his calamity, when for 
the first time it Avas in their jt^ower to render him a service, when 
he was coming to them with the remnant of his fortune, without a 
doubt of their fidelity, Avith every reason to suppose that his mis- 
fortunes Avould render him dearer to them than ever ; then it was 
that they determined to refuse him even an admittance within their 
gates, and sent an embassy to meet him with mockery and sub- 
terfuge. 

Of the offenses committed by man against man, there is one 
which man can seldom lift his soul up to the height of forgiving. 
It is to be slighted in the day of his humiliation by those who 
bowed him honor in the time of his prosperity. Yet man can 
orgive even this. Demetrius forgave it; and the nobler and 
greater a man is, the less keen is his sense of personal wrong, the 
less difficult it is for him to forgive. The poodle must show hig 
teeth at every passing dog; the mastiff walks majestic and serene 
through a pack of snarling curs. 

Amid such thoughts as these, the orthodox theory of damnation 
bad little chance ; the mind of the boy revolted against it more and 



BECOMES A UNIVERSALIST. 4.1 

more; and the result was, that ho became a3 our ijiou3 friend 
lamented, "little better than a Universalist" — in fact no better. 
From the age of fourteen he was known wherever he lived as a 
champion of Universalism, though he never entered a Universalist 
chnrch till he was twenty years old. By what means he managed 
to 'reconcile' his new belief with the explicit and unmistakable 
declarations of what ho continued to regard as Holy "Writ, or liow 
anybody has ever done it, I do not know. The boy appears to have 
shed his orthodoxy easily. His was not a nature to travail with a 
new idea for months and years, and arrive at certainty only after a 
struggle that rends the soul, and leaves it sore and sick for life. He 
was young ; the iron of our theological system had not entered into 
his soul; he took the matter somewhat lightly ; and, having arrived 
at a theory of the Divine government, which accorded with his own 
gentle and forgiving nature, he let the rest of the theological science 
alone, and went on his way rejoicing. 

Yet it was no slight thing that had happened to him. A man's 
Faith is the man. Not to have a Faith is not to be a man. Beyond 
all comparison, the most important fact of a man's life is the forma- 
tion of the Faith which he adheres to and lives by. And though 
Horace Greeley has occupied himself little with tilings spiritual, 
confining himself, by a necessity of his nature, chiefly to the pro- 
motion of material interests, yet I doubt not that this early change 
in his religious belief was the event which gave to all his subse- 
quent life its direction and character. "Whether that change was a 
desirable one, or an undesirable, is a question upon which the reader 
of course has a decided opinion. The following, perhaps, may be 
taken as the leading consequences of a deliberate and intelligent ex- 
change of a severe creed in which a person has been educated, foi 
a less severe one to which he attains by the operations of his ow3 
mind : 

It quickens his understanding, and multiplies his ideas to an extent 
which, it is said, no one who has never experienced it can possibly 
conceive. It induces in him a habit of original reflection upon sub- 
jects of importance. It makes him slow to believe a thing, merely 
because many believe it — merely because it has long been believed. 
It renders liiui open to conviction, for he cannot forget that there 
was a time when he held opinions which he now clearly sees to be 



43 AT WESTIIAVEN, VERMONT. 

erroueous. It dissolves the spell of Authority ; it makes him (lis- 
trustful of Great Names. It lessens his terror of Public Opinion 
for he has confronted it— discovered that it shows more teeth than 
it uses— tliat it harms only those who fear it— that it bows at length 
in homage to him whom it cannot frighten. It throws him upon 
his own moral resources. Formerly, Fear came to his assistance in 
moments of temptation ; hell-fire rolled up its column of lurid smoke 
Ijefore him in the dreaded distance. But now he sees it not. If he 
has the Intelligence to know, the Heart to love, the Will to choose, 
the Strength to do, the Eight ; he does it, and his life is high, and 
pure, and noble. If Intelligence, or Heart, or Will, or Strength is 
wanting to him, he vacillates ; he is not an integer, his life is not. 
But, in either case, his Acts are the measure of his Worth. 

Moreover, the struggle of a heretic with the practical difSculties 
of life, and particularly his early struggle, is apt to be a hard one; 
for, generally^ the Rich, the Eespectable, the Talented, and the 
Virtuous of a nation are ranged on the side of its Orthodoxy in an 
overwhelming majority. They 'feel themselves allied with it — de- 
pendent upon it. Above all, they believe in it, and think they 
would be damned if they did not. They are slow to give their 
countenance to one who dissents from their creed, even though he 
aspire only to make their shoes, or clean them, and though they 
more than suspect tliat the rival shoemaker round the corner keeps 
a religious newspaper on his counter solely for the effect of the 
thing upon pious consumers of shoe-leather. 

To depart from the established Faith, then, must be accounted a 
risk, a danger, a thing uncomfortable and complicating. But, from 
the nettle Danger, alone^ we pluck the flower Safety. And he who 
loves Truth first — Advantage second — will certainly find Trath at 
length, and care little at what loss of Advantage. So,' let every 
man be fully persuaded in his own mind — with which safe and 
salutary text we may take leave of matters theological, and resume 
S)ur story. 

The political events which occurred during Ilorace Greeley's 
residence in Westhaven were numerous and exciting ; some of 
them were of a character to attract the attention of a far less for 
ward and thoughtful boy than he. Doubtless he read the message 
of President Monroe in 1821, in which the policy of Protection 



:discoveus the humbug of " democracy." 43 

to American Industry was recommended strongly, and advccated 
by arguments so simple that a child could understand them; so 
cogent that no man could refute them — arguments, in fact, pre- 
cisely similar to those Avhich the Tribune has since made familiar 
to the country. In the message of 1822, the president repeated hia 
recommendation, and again in that of 1824. Those were the years 
of the recognition of the South American Republics, of the Greek 
enthusiasm, of Lafayette's triumphal progress through the Uni m ; 
of tlie occupation of Oregon, of the suppression of Piracy in the 
Gulf of Mexico; of the Clay, Adams and Jackson controversy. It 
was during the period we are now considering, that Henry Clay 
made his most brilliant elforts in debate, and secured a jilace in the 
affections of Horace Greeley, which he retained to liis dying day. 
It was then, too, that the boy learned to distrust the party who 
claimed to be pre-eminently and exclusively Democratic. 

How attentively he watched the course of political events, how 
intelligently he judged tliem, at the age of thirteen, may be inferred 
from a passage in an article which he wrote twenty years after, the 
facts of which he stated from his early recollection of them : 

"The first political contest," he wrote in the Tribune for August 29th, 
1846, " in which we ever took a distinct interest will serve to illustrate this dis- 
tinction [between real and sham democracy]. It was the Presidential Election 
of 1824. Five candidates for President were offered, but one of them was 
withdrawn, leaving four, all of them members in regular standing of the so- 
called Ptepublican or Democratic party. But a caucus of one- fourth of the 
members of Congress had selected one of the four (William II. Crawford) as 
the Republican candidate, and it was attempted to make the support of this one 
a test of party orthodoxy and fealty. This was resisted, we think most justly 
.xnd democratically, by three-fourths of the people, including a large major- 
ity of those of this State. But among the prime movers of the caucus wires 
was Martin Van Buren of this State, and hero it was gravely proclaimed and 
insisted that Democracy required a blind support of Crawford in preference to 
Adams, Jackson, or Clay, all of the Democratic party, who were competitors 
for the station. A Legislature was chosen as 'Republican' before the people 
generally had begun to think of the Presidency, and this Legislature, it was 
undoubtingly expected, would choose Crawford Electors of President. But the 
friends of the rival candidates at length began to bestir themselves and de- 
mand that the New York Electors shou'd be chosen by a direct vote of the peo* 
pig, and not by a forestalled Legislature This demand was -ehemently re 



4.4 AT -WESTIIAVEN, VERMONT. 

Eisted by Martin Van Buren and those who followed his lead, including the 
leading ' Democratic' politicians and editors ol the State, the ' Albany Argus,' 
'Noah's Enquirer or National Advocate,' &c. &c. The feeling in favor of an 
Election by the people became so strong and general that Gov. Yates, though 
himself a Crawford man, was impelled to call a special session of the Legisla- 
ture for this express purpose. The Assembly passed a bill giving the choice 
to the people by an overwhelming majority, in defiance of the exertions of 
Van Buren, A. C. Flagg, &c. The bill went to the Senate, to which body Silas 
Wright had recently been elected from the Northern District, and elected by 
Clintonian votes on an explicit understanding that he would vote for giving 
the choice of the Electors to the people. He accordingly voted, on one or two 
abstract propositions, that the choice ought to be given to the people. But 
when it came to a direct vote, this same Silas Wright, now Governor, voted to 
deprive the people of that privilege, by postponing the whole subject to the 
next regular session of the Legislature, when it would be too late for the peo- 
ple to choose Electors for that time. A bare majority (17) of the Senators 
thus withheld from the people the right they demanded. The cabal failed in 
their great object, after all, for several members of the Legislature, elected as 
Democrats, took ground for Mr. Clay, and by uniting with the friends of Mr. 
Adams defeated most of the Crawford Electors, and Crawford lost the Presi- 
dency. AVe were but thirteen when this took place, but we looked on very 
earnestly, without prejudice, and tried to look beyond the mere names by 
which the contending parties were called. Could we doubt thiit Democracy 
was on one side and the Democratic party on the other 1 AYill ' Democrat' 
attempt to gainsay it now 1 

" Mr. Adams was chosen President — as thorough a Democrat, in the true 
sense of the word, as ever lived — a plain, unassuming, upright, and most ca- 
pable statesman. He managed the public affairs so well that nobody could 
really give a reason for opposing him, and hardly any two gave the same rea- 
son. There was no party conflict during his time respecting the Bank, Tariff, 
Internal Improvements, nor anything else of a substantial character. He 
kept the expenses of the government very moderate. He never turned a man 
out of office because of a difference of political sentiment. Yet it was deter- 
mined at the outset that he should be put down, no matter how well he might 
administer the government, and a combination of the old Jackson, Crawford, 
and Calhoun parties, with the personal adherents of De Witt Clinton, aided by 
a shamefully false and preposterous outcry that he had obtained the Presi- 
dency by a bargain with Mr. Clay, succeeded in returning an Opposition Con- 
gress in the middle of his term, and at its close to put in GeneralJackson over 
him by a large majority. 

"Thecharacter of this man Jackson we had studied pretty thoroughly and 
without prejudice. His fatal duel with Dickinson about a horse-race ; his pis- 
toling Colonel Benton in the streets of Nashville ; his forcing his tray through 



SHAM AND REAL DEMOCRACT. 45 

the Indian country ■with his drove of negroes in defiance of the express ordei 
e>f the Agent Dinsmore ; his imprisonment of Judge ILill at New Orleans, 
long after the British had left that quarter, and when martial law ought long 
since to have been set aside; his irruption into Florida and capture of Spanish 
posts and officers without a shadow of authority to do so ; his threats to cut 
off the ears of Senators who censured this conduct in solemn debate — in short, 
his whole life convinced us that the man never was a Democrat, in any proper 
pense of the term, but a violent and lawless despot, after the pattern of Caesar, 
Cromwell, and Napoleon, and unfit to be trusted with power Of course, we 
went against him, but not against anything really Democratic in him or his 
party. 

" That General Jackson in power justified all our previous expectations of him, 
need hardly be said. That he did more to destroy the Republican character 
of our government and render it a centralized despotism, than any other 
man could do, we certainly believe. But our correspondent iind we would 
probably disasjree with regard to the Bank and other questions which con- 
vulsed the Union during his rule, and we will only ask his attention to one 
of them, the earliest, and, in our view, the most significant. 

"The Cherokee Indians owned, and had ever occupied, an extensive tract of 
country lying within the geographical limits of Georgia, Alabama, Ac. It was 
theirs by the best possible title — theirs by our solemn and reiterated Treaty 
stipulations. AVe had repeatedly bought from them slices of their lands, 
solemnly guarantying to them all that we did not buy, and agreeing to de- 
fend them therein against all aggressors. AVe had promised to keep all intrud- 
ers out of their territory. At least one of these Treaties was signed by Gen. 
Jackson himself ; others by AVashington, Jefferson, &c. All the usual pre- 
texts for agression upon Indians failed in this case. The Cherokees had been 
our friends and allies for many years ; they had committed no depredations ; 
they were peaceful, industrious, in good part Christianized, had a newspaper 
printed in their own tongue, and were fast improving in the knowledge and 
application of the arts of civiliied life. They compared favorably every way 
with their white neighbors. But the Georgians coveted their fertile lands, 
and determined to have them; they set them up in a lottery and gambled 
them off among themselves, and resolved to take possession. A fraudulent 
Treaty was made between a few Cherokees of no authority or consideration 
and sundry white agents, including one ' who stole the livory of Heaven to 
serve the devil in/ but everybody scoffed at this mockery, as did ninety-nine 
hundredths of the Cherokees. 

"Now Georgia, during Mr. Adams' Administration, attempted to extend her 
jurisdiction over these poor people. Mr. Adams, finding remonstrance of no 
avail, stationed a part of the army at a proper point, prepared to drive all 
intruders out of the Cherokee countrj*, as we had by treaty solemnly engaged 
to do. This answered the purpose. Georgia blustered, but dared not go fur- 



40 AT WESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

ther. She went en masse for Jackson, of course. When ho came in, she pro 
ceeded at once to extend her jurisdiction over the Cherokees in very deed 
They remonstrated— pointed to their broken treaties, and urged the President 
to perform his sworn duty, and protect them, but in vain. Georgia seized a 
Cherokee accused of killing another Cherokee in their own country, tried Lim 
for and convicted him of murder. He sued out a writ of error, carried the 
case up to the U. S. Supreme Court, and there obtained a decision in his favor, 
establishing the utter illegality as well as injustice of the acts of Geoigia in 
the premises. The validity of our treaties with the Cherokees, and the conse- 
quent duty of the President to see them enforced, any thing in any State-law 
or edict to the contrary notwithstanding, was explicitely afittrmed. Buc Presi- 
dent Jackson decided that Georgia was right and the Supreme Court wrong, 
and refused to enforce the decision of the latter. So the Court was defied, tha 
Cherokee hung, the Cherokee country given up to the cupidity of the Geor- 
gians, and its rightful owners driven across the Mississippi, virtually at the 
point of the bayonet. That case changed the nature of our Government, 
making the President Supreme Judge of the Law as well as its Chief Min- 
ister — in other words, Dictator. " Amen ! Hurrah for Jackson !" said the 
Pharisaic Democracy of Party and Spoils. "We could not say it after them. 
We considered our nation perjured in the trampling down and exile of these 
Cherokees ; perjury would have lain heavy on our soul had we approved and 
promoted the deed." 

On another occasion, wlien Silas Wright was nominated for Gov- 
ernor of the State of New Yorl<, the Trihnne broke forth : "Tlie 
'notorious Seventeen' — what New-Yorker has not heard of them? 
— yet how small a proportion of our present voting population re- 
tain a vivid and distinct recollection of the outrage on Republican- 
ism and Popular Rights Avhich made the ' Seventeen' sounenviably 
notorious ! The Editor of the Tribune is of that proportion, be it 
small or large. Though a boy in 1824, and living a mile across the 
Vermont line of the State, he can never forget the indignation 
awakened by that outrage, which made him for ever an adversary 
of the Albany Regency and the demagogues who here And else- 
where made use of the terms ' Democracj',' ' Democrats,' ' Demo- 
cratic party,' to hoodwink and cajole the credulous and unthinking 
— to divert their attention from things to names — to divest them of 
independent and manly thought, and lead them blindfold wherever 
the intriguers' interests shall dictate — to establish a real Aristocracy 
under the abused name of Democracy. It was 1824 which taught 
many beside us the nature of this swindle, and fired them with un- 



IMPATIENT TO BEGIN HIS APPRENTICESHIP. 4l 

conqiioralile zeal and resolution to defeat the fraud by exposing it 
to the apiJrehension of a duped and betraj'cd people." 

These extracts will assist the reader to recall the political excite- 
tneuts of the time. And he may well esteem it extraordinary for a 
boy of thirteen — an ago when a boy is, generally, most a boy — to 
understand them so well, and to be interested in them so deeply 
It should be remembered, however, that in remote country places, 
where the topics of conversation are few, all the people take a de- 
gree of interest in politics, and talk about political questions with a 
frequency and pertinacity of which the busy inhabitants of cities 
can form little idea. 

Horace's last year in Westhaven (1825) wore slowly away. He 
had exhausted the schools ; he was impatient to be at the types, 
and he wearied his father with importunities to get him a place in 
a printing-office. But liis father was loth to let him go, for two 
reasons : the boy was useful at home, and the cautious father feare(? 
he would not do well away from home ; he was so gentle, so ab 
sent, so awkward, so little calculated to make his Avay with strat 
gers. One day, the boy saw in tlie " Northern Spectator," a weekh 
paper, published at East Poultney, eleven miles distant, an adver- 
tisement for an apprentice in the office of the " Spectator " itself. 
He showed it to his father, and wrung from him a reluctant con- 
sent to his applying for the place. " I have n't got time to go an^ 
see about it, Horace ; but if you have a mind to walk over to Poult- 
ney and see what you can do, why you may." 

Horace had a mind \jn 



CHAPTER IV. 

APPRENTICESHIP. 

fhe Village of East Potiltney— Horace applies for the Place— Scene in tht Garden- 
He makes an Impression— A difficulty arises and is overcome— He enters the 
office— Rite of Initiation— Horace the Victor— His employer's recollections of hiir 
—The Pack of Cards— Horace begins to paragraph— Joins the Debating Society— 
His manner of Debating— Horace and the Dandy— His noble conduct to his 
father— His first glimpse of Saratoga— His manners at the Table— Becomes the 
Town-Encyclopedia— The Doctor's Story- Recollections of one of his fellow ap- 
prentices—Horace's favorite Poets— Politics of the time— The Anti-Mason Excite- 
ment—The Northern Spectator stops— The Apprentice is Free. 

East Podxtnet is not, decidedly not, a place whicli a traveler — 
if, by any extraordinary chance, a traveler should ever visit it — 
would naturally suspect of a newspaper. But, in one of the most 
densely-populated parts of the city of New York, there is a field! 
— a veritable, indubitable field, with a cow in it, a rough wooden 
fence around it, and a small, low, wooden house in the middle of it, 
where an old gentleman lives, who lived there when all was rural 
around him, and who means to live there all his days, pasturing his 
cow and raising his potatoes on ground which he could sell — but 
won't — at a considerable number of dollars per foot. The field ia 
the metropolis we can account tor. But that a newspaper should 
ever liave been published at East Poultney, Rutland county, Ver- 
mont, seems, at the first view of it, inexplicable. 

Vermont, however, is a land of villages ; and the business which 
is elsewhere done only in large towns is, in that State, divided 
among the villages in the country. Thus, the stranger is astonished 
at seeing among the few signboards of mere hamlets, one or two 
containing most unexpected and metropolitan announcements, such 

as, " SlLVEESMITH," " OeGAN FaCTORT," " PlAXO FoKTES," " Pp.IXT- 

ING Office," or " Patext Melodeoxs." East Poultney, for example, 
is little more than a hamlet, yet it once had a newspaper, and 
boasts a small factory of melodeons at this moment. A foreigner 
48 



THE VILLAGE OF EAST POULTNET. 49 

would as soon expect to see there an Italian opera honse or a 
French cafe. 

The Poultney river is a small stream that flows through a valley, 
which widens and narrows, narrows and widens, all along its course; 
here, a rocky gorge; a grassy plain, beyond. At one of its narrow 
places, where the two ranges of hills approach and nod to one 
another, and where the river pours through a rocky channel — a 
torrent on a very small scale — the little village nestles, a cluster of 
liouses at the base of an enormous hill. It is built round a small 
triangular green, in the middle of which is a church, with a hand- 
some clock in its steeple, all complete except the works, and bear- 
ing on its ample face the date, 1805. ISTo village, however minute, 
can get on without three churches, representing the Conservative, 
the Enthusiastic, and Eccentric tendencies of human nature; and, 
of course, East Poultney has three. It has likewise the most 
remarkably shabby and dilapidated school-house in all the country 
round. There is a store or two; but business is not brisk, and 
■when a customer arrives in town, perhaps, his first difliculty will be 
to Jind the storekeeper, who has locked up his store and gone to 
hoe in his garden or talk to the blacksmith. A tavern, a furnace, a 
saw-mill, and forty dwelling houses, nearly complete the inventory 
of the village. The place has a neglected and 'seedy' aspect which 
is rare in New England. In that remote and sequestered spot, it 
seems to have been forgotten, and left behind in the march of prog- 
ress; and the people, giving up the hope and the endeavor to catch 
up, have settled down to the tranquil enjoyment of Things as they 
Are. The village cemetery, near by, — more populous far than the 
village, for the village is an old one — is upon the side of a steep 
ascent, and whole ranks of gravestones bow, submissive to the 
law of gravitation, and no man sets them upright. A quiet, slow 
little place is East Poultney. Thirty years ago, the people were » 
little more wide awake, and there were a few more of them. 

Ifc was a fine spring morning in the year 1826, about ten o'clock, 
•when Mr. Amos Bliss, the manager, and one of the proprietors, of 
the Northern Spectator, ' might have been seen ' in the garden be- 
hind his house planting potatoes. He heard the gate open behind 
him, and, without turning or looking round, became dimly conscious 

v>f the presence of a boy. But the boys of country villages go into 

4 



50 APPRENTICESHIP. 

whosesoever garden their wandering fancy impels ihera, and suppos- 
ing tliis boy to be one of liis own neighbors, Mr. Bliys continued 
iiis work and quickly forgot that he was not alone. In a few min- 
utes, he heard a voice close behind hiin, a strange voice, high- 
pitched and whining. 

It said, "Are you the man that carries on the printing office?" 

Mr. Bliss then turned, and resting upon his hoe, surveyed the per- 
son who had thus addressed him. He saw standing before him a 
boy apparently about fifteen years of age, of a light, tall, and slen- 
der form, dressed in the plain, farmer's cloth of the time, his gar- 
ments cut witli an utter disregard of elegance and fit. His trow- 
sers were exceedingly short and voluminous ; he wore no stockings; 
his shoes were of the kind denominated 'high-lows,' and much 
worn down ; his hat was of felt, ' one of the old stamp, with so 
small a brim, that it looked more like a two-quart measure inverted 
than anything else ;' and it was worn far back on his head ; his hair 
was white, with a tinge of orange at its extremities, and it lay 
thinly upon a broad forehead and over a head ' rocking on shoulders 
which seemed too slender to support the weight of a member so 
disproportioned to the general outline.' The general efl^ect of the 
figure and its costume was so outre^ they presented such a combina- 
tion of the rustic and ludicrous, and the apparition had come upon 
him so suddenly, that the amiable gardener could scarcely keep 
from laughing. 

He restrained himself, however, and replied, " Yes, I 'm the 
man." 

Whereupon the stranger asked, " Don't you want a boy to learn 
the trade?" 

" Well," said Mr. Bliss, " we have been thinking of it. Do you 
want to learn to print ?" 

" I 'v6 had some notion of it," said the boy in true Yankee fash- 
ion, as though he had not been dreaming about it, and longing for 
it fur years. 

Mr. Bliss was both astonished and puzzled— astonished that such 
a fellow as the boy looked to be, should have ever thought of learn- 
ing to print, and puzzled how to convey to him an idea of the ab- 
Burdity of tlie notion. So, with an ex\3resssion in his countenance, 
Bnch as that of a tender-hearted dry-goods merchant might be sup- 



HORACE APPLIES FOR THE PLACE. 51 

posed to assume if a hod-carrier slioiild apply for a place in tlie lace 
departnioiit, he said, " Well, my boy— but, you know, it takes con- 
Biderable learning (o be a printer. Have you been to school iruch ?" 

♦' No," said the boy, " 1 have'nt had much chance at school. I 'v« 
read some." 

" ^yhat have you read ?" asked Mr, Bliss. 

" Well, I 've read some history, and some travels, and a little o' 
most everything." 

'• Where do you live?"' 

" At Westhaven " 

" How did you come over ?" 

" I came on foot." 

" What's your name ?" 

" Horace Greeley." 

Now it happened that Mr. Amos Bliss had been for the last three 
years an Inspector of Common Schools, and in fulfilling the duties 
of his office — examining and licensing teachers — he had acquired an 
uncommon facility in asking questions, and a fondness for that ex- 
ercise which men generally entertain for any employment in which 
they suppose themselves to excel. The youth before him was — in the 
language of medical students — a 'fresh subject,' and the Inspector 
proceeded to try all his skill upon him, advancing from easy ques- 
tions to hard ones, up to those knotty problems with which he had 
been wont to 'stump' candidates for the office of teacher. The 
boy was a match for him. He answered every question promptly, 
clearly and modestly, lie could not be 'stumped' in the ordinary 
school studies, and of the books he had read he could give a correct 
and complete analysis. In Mr. Bliss's own account of the inter- 
view, he says, " On entering into conversation, and a partial exam- 
ination of the qualifications of my new api)licant, it required but little 
time to discover that iie possessed a mind of no common order, and 
an acquired intelligence far beyond his years. He had had but little 
I'pportunity at the common school, but he said ' he liad read some,' 
and what lie had read he well unde:stood and remembered. In 
addition to the ripe intelligence manifested in one so young, and 
whose instruction had been so limited, there was a single-minded- 
ness, a truthfulness and common sense in what he said, that at 
onr^e commanded my regard." 



53 APPRENTICESHIP. 

After half an l.our's conversation with the boy, Mr. Bliss intimat- 
ed that he thought he would do, and told him to go into the print- 
ing-office and talk to the foreman. Horace went to the printing- 
office, and there his appearance produced an effect on the tender 
minds of the three apprentices who were at work therein, whict 
can he much better imagined than described, and which is mos( 
vividly remembered by the two who survive. To the foreman 
Horace addressed himself, regardless certainly, oblivious probably, 
of the stare and the remarks of the boys. The foreman, at first, 
was inclined to wonder that Mr. Bliss should, for one moment, 
think it possible that a boy got up in that style could perform the 
most ordinary duties of a printer's apprentice. Ten minutes' talk 
with him, however, effected a partial revolution in his mind in the 
boy's favor, and as he was greatly in want of another apprentice, 
he was not inclined to be over particular. He tore off a slip of 
proof-paper, wrote a few words upon it hastily with a pencil, and 
told the boy to take it to Mr. Bliss. That piece of paper was his 
fate. The words were : ' Guess we 'd letter try him? Away went 
Horace to tlie garden, and presented his paper. Mr. Bliss, whose 
curiosity had been excited to a high pitch by the extraordinary 
contrast between the appearance of the boy and his real quality, 
now entered into a long conversation with him, questioned him 
respecting his history, his past employments, his parents, their cir- 
cumstances, his own intentions and wishes; and the longer he talk- 
ed, the more his admiration grew. The result was, that he agreed 
to accept Horace as an apprentice, provided his father would agree 
to the usual terms ; and then, with eager steps, and a light heart, 
the happy boy took the dusty road that led to his home in West- 
haven. 

"You're not going to hire that tow-head, Mr. Bliss, are you?" 
asked one of the apprentices at the close of the day. " I am," was 
the reply, " and if you boys are expecting to get any fun out of 
Lira, you 'd better get it quick, or you '11 be too late. There 's some- 
thing in that tow-head, as you '11 find out before you're a week 
older." 

A day or two after, Horace packed up his wardrobe in a small 
cotton handkerchief. Small as it was, it would have held more , 
for its proprietor never had more than two shirts, and one chang? 



A DIFFICLLTT ARISES AND IS OVERCOME. 53 

rtf outer-clotliing, at the same time, till he was of age. Father and 
soa walked, side hy side, to Poultiiey, the hoy carrying his possess- 
ions upon a stick over bis shoulder. 

At Poultney, an unexpected difficulty arose, which for a time made 
Horace tremble in his high-low shoes. The terms proposed hy Mr. 
Bli^s were, that the hoy should he hound for five years, and receive 
iiis hoard and twenty v'ollars a year. Now, Mr. Greeley had ideas 
of his own on the suhject of apprenticeship, and he ohjected to this 
proposal, and to every particular of it. Jn the first place, he bad 
determined that no child of his should ever be bound at all. In the 
second place, he thought five years an unreasonable time ; thirdly, 
he considered that twenty dollars a year and hoard was a compen- 
sation ridiculously disproportionate to the services which Iloraco 
would be required to render; and finally, on each and all of these 
l)oints, he clung to his opinion with the tenacity of a Greeley. Mr. 
Bliss appealed to the established custom of the country ; five years 
was tlie usual period ; the compensation ofi:ered was tlie regular 
thing; the binding was a point essential to the employer's interest. 
And at every pause in the conversation, the appealing voice of Hor- 
ace was heard : " Father, I guess you 'd better make a bargain with 
Mr. Bliss;" or, "Father, I guess it won't make much dilference ;" 
or, "Don't you think you'd better do it, father?" At one mo- 
ment the boy was reduced to despair. Mr. Bliss had given it as 
his ultimatum that the proposed binding was absolutely indispensa- 
ble ; he '* could do business in no other way." " Well, then, Hor- 
ace," said the father, "let us go home." The fiither turned to go ; 
but Horace lingered ; he could not give it up ; and so the father 
turned again ; the negotiation was re-opened, and after a prolonged 
discussion, a compromise was eflFected. "What the terms were, that 
were finally agreed to, I cannot positively state, for the three me- 
mories which I have consulted upon the subject give three different 
replies. Probably, however, they were — no binding, and no money 
for six months; then the boy could, if he chose, bind himself for 
the remainder of the five years, at forty dollars a year, the appren- 
tice to be boarded from the beginning. And so the father went 
home, and the son went straight to the printing office and took hia 
first lesson in the art of setting type. 

A few months after, it may be as well to mention here, Mr 



54 APPRENTICESHIP. 

Greeley removed to Erie county, Pennsylvania, and bought some 
wild land there, from which he gradually created a farm, having 
Horace alone in Vermont. Grass now grows where the little house 
stood in Westhaven, in which the family lived longest, and the barn 
in which they stored their hay and kept their cattle, leans ff.rward 
like a kneeling elephant, and lets in the daylight tl»rough tet 
tliousand apertures. But the neighbors point out the '-ree Jiat 
£tood before their front door, and the tree that shaded the kitcliea 
window, and the tree that stood behind the house, and the tree 
whose apples Horace liked, and the bed of mint Avith which he re- 
galed his nose. And both the people of Westhaven and those of 
Amherst assert that whenever the Editor of the Tribune revisits 
the scenes of his early life, at the season when apples are ripe, one 
of the things that he is surest to do, is to visit the apple trees that 
produce the fruit which he liked best when he was a boy, and 
which he still prefers before all the apples of the world. 

The new apprentice took his place at the font, and received from 
the foreman his 'copy,' composing stick, and a few words of iu- 
Etruction, and then he addressed himself to his task. He needed 
no further assistance. The mysteries of the craft he seemed to 
comprehend intuitively. He had thought of his chosen vocation 
for many years ; he had formed a notion how the types must be ar- 
ranged in order to produce the desired impression, and, therefore, 
all he had to acquire was manual dexterity. In perfect silence, 
without looking to the right hand or to the left, heedless of the 
sayings and doings of the other apprentices, though they were bent 
on mischief, and tried to attract and distract his attention, Hor- 
ace worked on, hour after hour, all tliat day ; and wlien he left the 
ofEce at night could set type better and faster than many an ap- 
prentice who had had a montli's practice. The next day, he woi ked 
with the same silence and intensity. Tlie boys were puzzled. 
They thought it absolutely incumbent on them to perform an initiat- 
ing rite of some kind ; but the new boy gave them no handle, 
no excuse, no opening. He committed no greenness, he spoke to no 
one, looked at no one, seemed utterly oblivious of every thing save 
only his copy and Iiis type. They threw type at him, but he never 
looked around. They talked saucily at him, but he threw back no 
retort. This would never do. Towards the close of the third day 



HIS employer's recollections of iiim. 55 

tli6 oldest apprentices took one of the large black balls with which 
printers used to dah the ink upon the type, and remarking that in 
liis opinion Horace's hair was of too liglit a hue for so black an 
art as tliat which he had undertaken to learn, applied the ball 
well inked, to Horace's head, making four distinct dabs. The boys, 
the journeyman, the pressman and the editor, all paused in their 
work to observe the result of this experiment. Horace ccitlier 
spoke nor moved. He went on with his work as though nothing 
bad happened, and soon after went to the tavern where be boarded, 
and spent an hour in purifying his dishonored locks. And that was 
all the ' fun ' the boys ' got out ' of their new companion on that 
occasion. They were conquered. In a few days the victor and the 
vanquished were excellent friends. 

Horace was now fortunately situated. Ampler means of acquir- 
ing knowledge were within his reach than he had ever before en- 
joyed ; nor were there wanting opportunities for the display of his 
acquisitions and the exercise of his powers, 

" About this time," writes Mr. Bliss, " a sound, well- read theologian and a 
practical printer was employed to edit and conduct the paper. This opened a 
desirable school for intellectual culture to our j'oung debutant. Debates en- 
sued ; historical, political, and religious questions were discussed; and often 
while all hands were engaged at the font of types ; anl here the purpose for 
which our young aspirant ' had read some' was maJe manifest. Such was 
the correctness of his memory in what he had read, in both biblical and pro- 
fane history, that the reverend gentleman was often put at fault by his correc- 
tions. He always quoted chapter and verse to prove the point in dispute. On 
one occasion the editor saiJ that money was the root of all evi!, when he was 
corrected by the ' devil,' who said ho believed it read in the Bible that the lore 
of money was the root of all evil. 

" A small town library gave him access to books, by which, together wikh 
the reading of the e.^cchange papers of the office, he improved all his leisure 
hours. He became a frequent talker in our village lyceum, and often wrote 
ilssortations. 

"In the first organization of our village temperance society, the question 
arose as to the age when the young might become members. Fearing lest his 
own age might bar him, he moved that they be received when they were old 
tnough to drink — which was adopted nem. con. 

" Though modest and retiring, he was often led into political discussions 
trth our ablest politicians, and few would leave the field without feeling in 



<g APPEENTICESHIP. 

Btructed by the sounduess of his views and the unerring correctness of 'ail 

statements of po\itical events. , „ , . • .„ jf. 

'■ Havin.^ a thirst for knowledge, he bent his mind and all his energies to ita 
acquisition, with unceasing application and untiring devotion ; and I doubt if, 
in the whole term of his apprenticeship, he ever spent an hour in the common 
recreations of young men. He used to pass my door as he went to h.s da.ly 
meals, and though I often sat near, or stood in the way, so much absorbed d.d 
he appear in his own thoughts-his head bent forward and his eyes fixed 
upon the ground, that I have the charity to believe the reason why ho never 
turned his head or gave me a look, was because he had no idea I waa 
there !" 

On one point the reminiscences of Mr. Bliss require correction. 
He thinks that his apprentice never spent an hour in the common 
recreations of young men during his residence in Poultney. Mr. 
Bliss, however, was his senior and his employer ; and therefore 
observed him at a distance and from above. But I, who have con- 
versed with those who were the friends and acquaintances of the 
youth, can tell a better story. He had a remarkable fondness for 
games of mingled skill and chance, such as whist, draughts, chess, 
and others ; and the office was never without its dingy pack of 
cards, carefully concealed from the reverend editor and the serious 
customers, but brought out from its hiding-place whenever the 
coast was clear and the boys had a leisure hour. Horace never 
gambled, nor would he touch the cards on Sunday ; but the delight 
of playing a game occasionally was heightened, perhaps, by the fact 
that in East Poultney a pack of cards was regarded as a thing ac- 
cursed, not fit for saintly hands to touch. Bee-hunting, too, con- 
tinued to be a favorite amusement with Horace. " He was always 
ready for a bee-hunt," says one who knew him well in Poultney, 
and bee-hunted with him often in the woods above the village. To 
finish with this matter of amusement, I may mention that a danc- 
iag-3chool was held occasionally at the village-tavern, and Horace 
was earnestly (ironically, perhaps) urged to join it; but he refused. 
Not that he disapproved of the dance — that best of all home recrea- 
tions — but he fancied he was not exactly the figure for a quadrille. 
He occasionally looked in at the door of the dancing-room, but 

Clever could be prevailed upon to enter it. 
Fntil he came to live at Poultney, Horace had never tried his hand 



JOINS A DEBATING SOCIETT. 67 

»t original composition. TL3 injurious practice of writing ' compo* 
nitions' was not among the exercises of any of the schools which ho 
had attended. At Poultucy, very early in his apprenticeship, he 
began, not indeed to write, but to compose paragraphs for the pa 
per as he stood at the desk, and to set them in type as he coraposea 
them. They Avere generally items of news condensed from large 
articles in the exchange papers ; but occasionally he composed an 
original paragraph of some length ; and he continued to render edi 
torial assistance of this kind all the while he remained in the office. 
The ' Northern Spectator' was an ' Adams paper,' and Horace was 
an Adams man. 

The Debating Society, to which Mr. Bliss alludes, was an impor- 
tant feature in the life of East Poultney. There happened to be 
among the residents of the place, during the apprenticeship of Hor- 
ace Greeley, a considerable number of intelligent men, men of some 
knowledge and talent— the editor of the paper, the village doctor, 
a county judge, a clergyman or two, two or three persons of some 
political eminence, a few well-informed mechanics, farmers, and 
others. These gentlemen had formed themselves into a 'Lyceum,' 
before the arrival of Horace, and tlie Lyceum had become so 
famous in the neighborhood, that people frequently came a distance 
of ten miles to attend its meetings. It assembled weekly, in the 
winter, at the little brick school-house. An original essay was read 
by the member whose 'turn ' it was to do so, and then the question 
of the evening was debated ; first, by four members who had been 
designated at the previous meeting, and after they had each spoken 
once, the question was open to the whole society. The questions 
were mostly of a very innocent and rudimental character, as, 'Is 
novel-reading injurious to society V 'Has a person a right to take 
life in self-defense ?' 'Is marriage conducive to happiness?' 'Do 
we, as a nation, exert a good moral influence in the world?' 'Do 
either of the great parties of the day carry out the principles of the 
Declaration of Independence ?' ' Is the Union likely to be perpetu- 
ated ?' ' Was Napoleon Bonaparte a great man V ' Is it a person's 
duty to take the temperance pledge V et cetera. 

Horace joined the society, the first winter of his residence in 
Poultney, and, young as he was, soon became one of its leading 
giembers. " He was a i ■>al giant at the Debating Society," says 



58 APPRENTICESHIP. 

one of his early admirers. " Whenever he was appointed to speak 
or to read an essay, he never wanted to be excused; lie was always 
ready. lie was exceedingly interested in the questions wliich he 
discussed, and stuck to his opinion against all oppt)sition — not dis- 
courteously, but still he stuck to it, replying with the most perfect 
assurance to men of high station and of low. He had one advan- 
tage over all his fellow members; it was his memory. He had read 
everything, and remembered tlie minutest details of important 
events ; dates, names, places, ligures, statistics — nothing had escaped 
him. He was never treated as a ioy in the society, but as a man 
and an equal; and his opinions were considered with as much de- 
ference as those of the judge or the sheriif — more, I think. To the 
graces of oratory he made no pretense, but he was a fluent and 
interesting speaker, and had a way of giving an unexpected turn to 
the debate by reminding members of a fact, well known but over- 
looked; or by correcting a misquotation, or by appealing to what 
are called first principles. He was an opponent to be afraid of; 
yet his sincerity and his earnestness were so evident, tliat those 
whuin he most signally floored liked him none the less for it. He 
never lost his temper. In short, he spoke in his sixteenth year just 
as he speaks now ; and when he came a year ago to lecture in a 
neighboring village, I saw beA^-e me tlie Horace Greeley of the 
old Poultney 'Forum,' as we called it, and no other." 

It is hardly necessary to record, that Horace never made the 
slightest preparation for the meetings of the Debating Society in 
the way of dress — except so far as to put on his jacket. In the 
summer, lie was accustomed to wear, while at work, two garments, 
a shirt and trowsers; and when the reader considers that his trow- 
sers were very short, his sleeves tucked up above his elbows, hia 
shirt open in front, he will have before his mind's eye the picture 
of a youth attired with extreme simplicity. In his walks about the 
village, he added to his dress a straw hat, valued originally at one 
shilling. In the winter, his clotliing was really insufficient. So, at 
/"east, thought a kind-hearted lady who used to see him pass her 
window on his way to dinner., "He never," she says, "had an 
overcoat while he lived here; and I used to pity him so much in 
cold weather. I remember him as a slender, pale little fellow, • 
younger looking than he really was, in a brown jacket much toe 



ms FinST GLIMPSE AT SARATOGA. 5'J 

fliort for liim. I used to tliink tlie winds would blow liiiii awaj 
Bomotimes, as lie crept along the fence lost in tliouglit, with hia 
liead down, and liis hands in his [lockefs. He was often lauglied 
at for his homely dress, b}' the boys. Once, when a very interest- 
ing question was to be debated at the school-house, a young map 
who was noted among us for the elegance of his dress and the 
length of his account at the store, advised Horace to get a new ' rig 
out' for the occasion, particularly as he was to lead one of the 
Bides, and an unusually large audience was expected to be present. 
' No,' said Horace, ' I guess I 'd better wear my old clothes than 
run m debt for new ones.' " 

Now, forty dollars a year is sufficient to provide a boy in the 
country' with good and substantial clothing ; half the sum will keep 
him warm and decent. The reader, therefore, may be inclined to 
censure the young debater for liis apparent parsimony ; or worse, for 
an insolent disregard of the feelings of others; or, worsts for a [)ride 
that aped humility. The reader, if tliat be the present iiicliiKiUon 
of his mind, v/ill perhaps experience a revulsion of feeling when he 
is informed — as I now do inform him, and on the best authority-- 
that every dollar of the apprentice's little stipend which he could 
save by the most rigid economy, was piously sent to his father, who 
was struggling in the wilderness on the other side of the Alieghanies, 
with the difficulties of a new farm, and an insufficient capital. 
And this was the practice of Horace Greeley during all the years 
of his apprenticeship, and for years afterwards; as long, in fact, as 
his father's land was unpaid for and inadequately provided with 
implements, buildings, and stock. At a time when filial piety may 
be reckoned among the extinct virtues, it is a pleasure to record a 
fact like this. 

Twice, during his residence at Ponltney, Horace visited his 
parents in Pennsylvania, six hundred miles distant, walking a great 
part of the way, and accomplishing the rest oa a slow canal boat. 
On one of these tedious journeys he first saw Saratoga, a circum- 
stance to which he alluded se-^cn years after, in a fanciful epistle, 
written from that famous watering-place, and published in the 
** New Yorker" : 

•'Saratoga! bright ci!y of ',ho present! thou ever-during one-and twent» 



go APPRENTICESHIP. 

of existence ! awanJerei by thy stately palaces and gushing fountains salutes 
thee ! Years, yet not many, have elapsed since, a weary reamer from a dis 
tant land, he first sought thy health-giving waters. Novembers slcy was 
over earth and him, and more than all, over thee ; and its chilling blasts 
made mournful melody amid the waving branches of thy ever verdant pines. 
Then, as now, thou wert a City of Tombs, deserted by the gay throng whose 
light laughter re-echoes so joyously through thy summer-robed arbors. But 
to him, thou wert ever a fairy land, and he wished to quaff of thy Hygeian 
treasures as of the nectar of the poet's fables. One long and earnest draught, 
ere its sickening disrelish came over him, and he flung down the cup in the 
bitterness of disanpointraent and disgust, and sadly addressed him again to 
his pedestrian journey. Is it ever thus with thy castles. Imagination ? thy 
pictures, Fancy 1 thy dreams, Hope ? Perish the unbidden thought ! A 
health, in sparkling Congress, to the rainbow of life ! even though its prom- 
ise prove as shadowy as the baseless fabric of a vision. Better even the 
dear delusion of Hope— if delusion it must be— than the rugged reality of 
listless despair. (I think I could do this better in rhyaie, if I had not tres- 
passed in that line already. However, the cabin-conversation of a canal- 
packet is not remarkably favorable to poetry.) In plain pro.^e, there is a 
great deal of mismanagement about this same village of Saratoga The sea- 
son gives up the ghost too easily," &c., &c. 

During the four years that Horace lived at East Poultney, he 
boarded for some time at the tavern, -vvliich still atford.s entertain- 
ment for man and beast — i. e. peddler and horse — in that village. 
It was kept by an estimable couple, who became exceedingly at- 
tached to their singular guest, and he to them. Tlieir recollections 
of him are to the following effect : — ^Horace at that time ate and 
drank whatever was placed before him ; he was rather fond of good 
living, ate furiously, and fast, and much. lie was very fond of coffee, 
but cared little for tea. Every one drank in those daj's, and there 
was a great deal of drinking at the tavern, but Horace never could 
be tempted to taste a drop of anything intoxicating. " I always," 
paid the kind landlady, " took a great interest in young people, and 
when I saw they were going wrong, it used to distress me, no matter 
whom they belonged to ; but I never feared for Horace. Wliatever 
might be going on about the village or in the bar-room, I alwaj-g 
knew he would do right." He stood on no ceremony at the table ; 
nefell to without waiting to be asked or helped, devoured every 
'hing right and left, stopped as suddenly as ho had begun, and 



THE D0CTi)r'6 STORT. 61 

ranisbnil instantly. Ono day, as Horace was stretching liis long 
arm over to the other side of the table in quest of a distant dish, 
the servant, wishing to hint to him in a jocular manner, that that 
was not exactly the most proper way of proceeding, said, " Don't 
trouble yourself, Horace, / want to help you to that dish, for, you 
know, I have a. particular regard for you." He blushed, as only a 
boy with a very white f;ice can blush, and, thenceforth, was lesa 
adventurous in exploring the remoter portions of the table-cloth. 
When any topic of interest was started at the table, he joined in it 
with the utmost confidence, and maintained his opinion against 
anybody, talking with great vivacity, and never angrily. lie came, 
at length, to be regarded as a sort of Town Encyclo{)edia, and if 
any one wanted to icnow anything, he went, as a matter of course, 
to Horace Greeley; and, if a dispute arose between two individuals, 
respecting a point of histor}-, or politics, or science, they referred it 
to Horace Greeley, and whomsoever 7ie declared to be right, wag 
confessed to be the victor in the controversy. Horace never went 
to a tea-drinking or a party of any kind, never went on an excur- 
sion, never slept away from home or was absent from one meal 
during the period of his residence at the tavern, except when 
he went to visit his parents. He seldom went to cliurch, but spent 
the Sunday, usually, in reading. He was a stanch Universalist, a 
stanch whig, and a pre-eminently stanch anti-Mason. Thus, the 
landlord and landlady. 

Much of this is curiously confirmed by a story often told in con- 
vivial moments by a distinguished physician of New York, who 
on one occasion chanced to witness at the Poultney tavern the ex- 
ploits, gastrononnc and encyclopedic, to which allusion has just 
been made. "Did I ever tell you," he is wont to begin, " how and 
where I first saw my friend Horace Greeley? Well, thus it hap- 
pened. It was one of the proudest and happiest days of my life. 
I was a country boy then, a farmer's son, and we lived a few miles 
from East Poultne}'. On the day in question I was sent by my 
father to sell a load of potatoes at the store in East Poultney, and 
bring back various commodities i.i exchange. Now this was the 
first time, you must know, that I had ever been entrusted with so 
important an errand. I had been to tlie village with my father 
iften enough, but now I was to go alone, and I felt as proud and 



(52 APPRENTICESHIP. 

independent as a midsLipraan the first time be goes asliore m cou' 
inand of a boat. Big witb the fate of twenty bushels of potatoes, 
off I drove — reached the village — sold oui my load — di'ove round 
to the tavern — put up my horses, and went in to dinner. This going 
to the tavern on my own account, all by myself, and paying my own 
bill, was, I thought, the crowning glory of the whole adventure. 
There were a good many people at dinner, tlie sheriff of the county 
and an ex-member of Congress among them, and I felt considerably 
abashed at first ; but I had scarcely begun to eat, when my eyea 
fell upon an object so singular that I could do little else than stare 
at it all the while it remained in the room. It was a tall, lale, 
white-haired, gawTcy bo}', seated at the furtlier end of the table. 
He was in his shirt-sleeves, and he was eating with a rapidity and 
awkwardness that I never saw equaled before nor since. It seem- 
ed as if he was eating for a wager, and liad gone in to win. He 
neither looked up nor round, nor appeared to pay the least attention 
to the conversation. My first thought was, ' This is a pretty sort 
of a tavern to let such a fellow as that sit at the same table with all 
these gentlemen ; he ought to come in with the hostler.' I thought 
it strange, too, that no one seemed to notice him, and I supposed 
he owed his continuance at tlie table to that circumstance alone. 
And so I sat, eating little myself, and occupied in watching the won- 
derful performance of this wonderful youth. At length the conver- 
eation at the table became quite animated, turning upon some 
measure of an early Congress ; and a question arose how certain 
members had voted on its final passage. There was a difference 
of opinion ; and the sheriff, a very finely-dressed personage, 1 
thought, to my boundless astonishment, referred the matter to tlio 
unaccountable Boy, saying, 'Aint that right, Greeley?' 'No,' 
said the Unaccountable, without looking up, 'you 're wrong.' 
'There,' said the ex-member, 'I told you so.' And you 're 
wrong, too,' said the still-devouring Mystery. Then he laid down 
his knife vmd fork, and gave the history of the measure, explained 
the state of parties at tlie time, stated the vote in dispute, named 
the leading advocates and opponents of the bill, and, in short, gave 
a complete exposition of the whole matter. I listened and won- 
dered; but what surprised me most was, that the company receiv- 
ed his statement as pure gospel, ana as settling the question be- 



ItKCOLLECTIONS OF ONE OF HIS FELLOW APPRENTICES. g3 

yond dispute — as a dictionary settles a dispute respecting the spell 
ing of a word. A minute after, tlie boy left the dining room, and 1 
never saw him again, till I met him, years after, in tlie streets of 
New York, when I claimed acquaintance with him as a brother 
Vermonter, and told him this sior\', to his great amusement." 

One of his fellow-api)rentices favors nie with some interesting 
reminiscences, lie says, '' I was a fellow-apprentice with Horace 
(Jreeley at Poultney for nearly two years. We boarded together 
during that period at four different places, and we were constantly 
together." The following passage from a letter from this early 
friend of our hero will be welcome to the reader, notwithstanding 
its re^jetitions of a few facts already known to him : — 

Little did the inhabitants of East Poultney. where Horace Greeley went to 
reside in April, 1S26, as an apprentice to the printing business, dream of the 
potent inflaence he was a few years later destined to exert, nut only upon the 
politics of a neighboring State, but upon the noblest and grandest philan- 
thropic enterprises of the age. He was then a remarkably plain-looking unso- 
phisticated lad of fifteen, with a slouching, careless gait, leaning away for- 
ward as he walked, as if both his head and his heels were too heavy for hia 
body. He wore a wool hat of the old stamp, with so small a brim, that it 
looked more like a two-quart measure inverted than a hat ; and he had a sin- 
gular, whining voice that provoked the merrimentof the older apprentices, who 
had hardly themselves outgrown, in their brief village residence, similar pecu- 
liarities of country breeding. But the rogues could not help pluming themselves 
upon their superior manners and position ; and it must be confessed that the 
young ' stranger ' was mercilessly ' taken in ' by his elders in the office, when- 
ever an opportunity for a practical joke presented itself. 

But these things soon passed away, and as Horace was seen to bo an un- 
usually intelligent and honest lad, he came to be better ajipreciated. The office 
ia which he was employed was that of the Northern Spectator, a weekly 
paper then published by Messrs. Bliss & Dewey, and edited by E. Gr. Stone, 
brother to the late Col. Stone of the N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. The new 
comer boarded in Mr. Stone's family, by whom he was well esteemed for his 
boyish integrity ; and Mr. S. on examination found him better skilled in Eng- 
lish grammar, even at that early age, than were the majority of school teach- 
ers in those times. His superior intelligence also strongly commended 
him to the notice of Amos Bliss, Esq., one of the firm already mentioned, 
then and now a highly-respectable merchant of East Poultney, who hu 
marked with pride and pleasure every successive step of the ' Westhaven boy,' 
from that day to this. 



64 APPRENTICESHIP 

lit consequence of the change of proprietors, editors and other things per- 
taining to the management of the Spectator office, Horace had, during th« 
term of his apprenticeship, about as many opportunities of ' boarding round,' 
as ordinarily fall to the lot of a country schoolmaster. In 1827, he boarded 
at the 'Eagle tavern,' which was then kept by Mr. Harlow Hosford, and was 
the head-quarters of social and fashionable life in that pleasant old village. 
Tbere the balls and village parties were had, there the oysters suppers came 
off, and there the lawyers, politicians and village oracles nightly congregated. 
Horace was no hand for ordinary boyish sports ; the rough and tumble games 
of wrestling, running, etc., he had no relish for ; but he was a diligent student 
in his leisure hours, and eagerly read everything in the way of books and 
papers that he could lay his hands on. And it was curious to see what a power 
of mental application he had — a power which enabled him, seated in the bar- 
room, (where, perhaps, a dozen people were in earnest conversation,) to pursue 
undisturbed the reading of his favorite book, whatever it might be, with evi- 
dently as close attention and as much satisfaction as if he had been seated 
alone in his chamber. 

If there ever was a self-made man, this same Horace Greeley is one, for 
he had neither wealthy or influential friends, collegiate or academic educa- 
tion, nor anything to start him in the world, save his own native good sense, 
an unconquerable love of study, and a determination to win his way by his 
own efforts. He had, however, a natural aptitude for arithmetical calcula- 
tions, and could easily surpass, in his boyhood, most persons of his age in tba 
facility and accuracy of his demonstrations; and his knowledge of grammar 
has been already noted. He early learned to observe and remember political 
statistics, and the leading men and measures of the political parties, the va- 
rious and multitudinous candidates for governor and Congross, mt only in * 
single State, but in many, and finally in all the States, together with the lo- 
cation and vote of this, that, and the other congressional dist.-ictr, (whig, dem- 
ocratic and what not,) at all manner of elections. These things he rapidly and 
easily mastered, and treasured in his capacious memory, till we venture to sa^ 
he has few if any equals at this time, in this particular departff'ent, in thi* 
or any other country. I never knew but one man who approached him in this 
particular, and that was Edwin Williams, compiler of the N. Y. State Reg- 
gie r. 



Another letter from the same friend contains information still 
more valuable. " Judging," he writes, " from what I do certainlj» 
know of hiin, I can say that few young men of my acquaintance 
grew up with so much freedom from everything of a vicious and 
corrupting nature — so strong a resolution to study everything ii» 
the way of useful knowledge — and such a quick and clear percep 



POLITICS OF THE TIME. 



05 



tion of the queer and liuinorous, wliether in print or in actual life 
His love of the poets — Byron, Shakspeare, etc., discovered itself il 
boyhood — and often have Greeley and I strolled off into the woods, 
of a warm day, with a volume of Byron or Campbell in our pockets, 
and reclining in some shady place, read it off to each other by the 
hour. In this way, I got such a hold of 'Childe Harold,' the 'Pleas- 
ures of Hope,' and other favorite poems, that considerable portions 
have remained ever since in my memory. Byron's apostrophe to 
t!ie Ocean, and some things in the [ith] canto relative to the men 
and monuments of ancient Italy, were, if I mistake not, his special 
favorites — also the famous description of the great conflict at 
Waterloo. ' Mazeppa ' was also a marked favorite. And for many 
of Mrs. Hemans' poems he had a deep admiration." 

The letter concludes with an honest hurst of indignation; 
" Knowing Horace Greeley as I do and have done for thirty years, 
knowing his integrit}-, purity, and generosity, I can tell you one 
thing, and that is, that the contempt with which I regard the slan- 
ders of certain papers with respect to his conduct, and character, is 
quite inexpressille. There is doubtless a proper excuse for the con- 
duct of lunatics, mad dogs, and rattlesnakes ; but I know of no decent, 
just, or reasonable apology for such meanness (it is a hard word, but 
a very expressive one) as the presses alluded to have exhibited." 

Horace came to Poultney, an ardent politician ; and the events 
which occurred during his apprenticeship were not calculated to 
moderate his zeal, or weaken his attachment to the party he had 
chosen. John Quincy x\dams was president, Calhoun was vice- 
president, Henry Clay was secretary of State. It was one of the 
best and ablest administrations that had ever ruled in "Washington; 
and the most unpopular one. It is among the inconveniences of 
universal suffrage, that the party which comes before the country 
with the most taking popular Cry is the party which is likeliest tu 
win. During the existence of this administration, the Opposition 
bad a variety of popular Cries which were easy to vociferate, and 
well adapted to impose on the unthinking, i. e. the majority. 
'Adams had not been elected by the people.' 'Adams had gained 
the presidency by a corrupt bargain with Henry Clay.' ' Adams 
was lavish of the public money.' But of all the Cries of the time, 
Hurrah for Jackson' was the most effective. Jackson was a man 
6 



(56 APPRENTICESHIP. 

of tlie i-eople. Jackson was the hero of New Orleans j^nd the cou- 
queror of Florida. Jackson was pledged to retrenchment and 
reform. Against vociferation of this kind, what availed the fact^ 
evident, incontrovertible, that the affairs of the government were 
conducted with dignity, judgment and moderation?— that the coun- 
try' enjoyed prosperity at home, and the respect of the world? — 
tliat the claims of American citizens against foreign governments 
were prosecuted with diligence and success ? — that treaties highly 
advantageous to American interests were negotiated with leading 
nations in Europe and South America? — that the public revenue 
was greater than it Iiad ever been before ? — that the resources of 
the country were made accessible by a liberal system of internal 
improvemefit ? — that, nevertheless, there were surplus millions in 
tlie treasury ? — that the administration nobly disdained to employ 
the executive patronage as a means of securing its continuance in 
power ? — All this availed nothing. ' Hurrah for Jackson ' carried the 
day. The Last of the Gentlemen of the Revolutionary school re- 
tired. The era of wire-pulling began. That deadly element was 
introduced into our political system which rendered it so exquisitely 
vicious, tliat thenceforth it worked to corruption by an irresistible 
necessity! It is called Rotation in Office. It is embodied in the 
maxim, ' To the victors belong the spoils.' It has made the word 
office-liolder synonymous with the word sneaTc. It has thronged tlie 
capital with greedy sycophants. It has made politics a game of 
cunning, with enough of chance in it to render it interesting to the 
low crew that play. It has made the president a pawn with which 
to make tlie first move — a puppet to keep the people amused while 
their pockets are picked. It has excluded from the service of the 
State nearly every man of ability and worth, and enabled bloated 
and beastly demagogues, without a ray of talent, without a senti- 
ment of magnanimity, iUiterate, vulgar, insensible to shame, to exert 
a power in this republic, which its greatest statesmen in their 
greatest days never wielded. 

In the loud contentions of the period, the reader can easily bo 
lieve that our argumentative apprentice took an intense interest. 
The village of East Poultney cast little more— if any more — than 
half a dozen votes for Jackson, but how much this result was owing 
\o the efforts of Horace Greeley cannot now be ascertained. AT 



THE ANTI-MASON EXCITEMENT. 07 

agree tlrit he contributed liis full share to the general babble which 
the election of a President provokes. During the whole adminis* 
tration of Adams, the revision of the taritf with a view to tho bet- 
ter protection of American manufactures was among the most 
prcmiinent topics of public and private discussion. 

It was about the year 1827 that the Masonic excitement arose 
Military men tell us that the bravest regiments are subject to panic. 
Hogiments that bear upon their banners tlie most lionorable distinc- 
tions, whose colors are tattered with the bullets of a hundred 
figlits, will on a sudden falter in the charge, and fly, like a pack of 
cowards, from a danger which a pack of cowards might face with- 
out ceasing to be thought cowards. Similar to these causeless and 
irresistible panics of war are those frenzies of fear and fury mingled 
whicli sometimes come over the mind of a nation, and make it for 
a time inca[)able of reason and regardless of justice. Such seems 
to have been the nature of the anti-Masonic mania which raged la 
the Northern States from the year 1827. 

A man named Morgan, a printer, had published, for gain, a book 
in which the harmless secrets of the Order of Free Masons, of which 
he was a member, were divulged. Public curiosity caused the hook 
to have an immense sale. Soon after its publication, Morgan an- 
nounced another volume which was to reveal unimagined horrors ; 
but, before the book appeared, Morgan disappeared, and neither 
ever came to light. Now arose the question, What became of Mor- 
gan ? and it rent the nation, for a time, into two imbittered and 
angry factions. " Morgan !" said the Free Masons, " that [lerjured 
traitor, died and was buried in the natural and ordinary fashion." 
"Morgan!" said the anti-Masons, "tliat martyred patriot, was drag- 
ged from his home by Masonic ruffians, taken in the dead of night 
to the shores of the Niagara river, murdered, and thrown into the 
rapids." It is impossible for any one to conceive the utter delirium 
into which the people in some parts of the country were thi'own by 
the agitation of this subject. Books were written. Papers were 
established. Exhibitions were got up, in which the Masonic cere- 
monies were caricatured or imitated. Families were divided. Fa- 
Uiers disinherited their sons, and sons forsook their fathers. Elec- 
tions were influenced, not town and county elections merely, but 
State and national elections. There were Masonic candidates and 



68 APPRENTICESHIP. 

anti-Masonic candidates in every election in the Northern States 
for at least t'.vo years after Morgan vanished. Hundreds of Lodges 
bowed to the storm, sent in their charters to the central anthority, 
and voluntarily ceased to exist. There are families now, about the 
country, in which Masonry is a forbidden topic, because its intro- 
duction would revive the old quarrel, and turn the peaceful tea-table 
into a scene of hot and interminable contention. There are still old 
ladies, male and female, about the country, who will tell you with 
grim gravity that, if you trace up Masonry, through all its Orders, 
till you come to the grand, tip-top. Head Mason of the world, you 
will discover that that dread individual and the Chief of the Society 
of Jesuits are one and the same Person ! 

I have been tempted to use the word ridiculous in connection 
with this affair; and looking hack upon it, at the distance of a 
quarter of a century, ridiculous seems a proper word to apply to it. 
But it did not seem ridiculous then. It had, at least, a serious side. 
It was believed among the anti-Masons that the Masons were bound 
to protect one another in doing injustice ; even the commission of 
treason and murder did not, it was said, exclude a man from the 
shelter of his Lodge. It was alleged that a Masonic jury dared not, 
or would not, condemn a prisoner who, after the fullest proof of his 
guilt had been obtained, made the Masonic sign of distress. It was 
asserted that a judge regarded the oath which made him a Free 
Mason as more sacred and more binding than that which admitted 
him to the bench. It is in vain, said the anti -Masons, for one oivs 
to seek justice against a Mason, for a jury cannot be obtained with- 
out its share of Masonic members, and a court cannot be found 
without its Masonic judge. 

Our apprentice embraced the anti-Masonic side of this contro- 
versy, and embraced it warmly. It was natural that he should. 
It was inevitable that he should. And for the next two or three 
years he expended more breath in denouncing the Order of the 
Free-Masons, than upon any other subject — perhaps than all other 
subjects put together. To this day secret societies are his special 
aversion. 

But we nmst hasten on. Horace had soon learned his trade. lie 
became the best hand in the office, and rendered important assist- 
ance in editing the paper. Some numbers were almost entirely hia 



INVENTORY OF HIS POSSESSIONS. G9 

work. But tliere was ill-luck about tlie little cstablisliinciit. Several 
times, as we have seen, it chan2;e(l proprietors, but none of them 
could make it prosper; and, at lengtli, in the month of June, 1S30 
iho second month of the apprentice's fifth year, tiie Northern 
Spectator was discontinued ; the printing-office was broken up, and 
the apprentice, released from his engagement, became his own mas- 
ter, free to wander Avhithersoever he could pay his passage, and to 
work for wliorasoever would employ liim. 

His possessions at this crisis Avere— a knowledge of the art of 
printing, an extensive and very miscellaneous library in his mem- 
ory, a wardrobe that could be stutFed into a pocket, twenty dollars 
in cash, and — a sore leg. The article last named played too serious 
n part in the history of its proprietor, not to bo mentioned in the 
inventory of his property. He had injured his leg a year before in 
stepping from a box, and it troubled him, more or less, for three 
years, swelling occasionally to four times its natural size, and oblig- 
ing him to stand at his work, with the leg propped up in a most 
horizontal and uncomfortable position. It was a tantalizing feature 
of the case that he could walk without much difBculty, but stand- 
ing was torture. As a printer, he had no particular occasion to 
walk ; and by standing he was to gain his subsistence. 

Horace Greeley was no longer a Boy. His figure and the ex- 
pression of his countenance were still singularly youthful ; but he 
was at the beginning of his twentieth year, and he was henceforth 
to confront the world as a man. So far, his life had been, upon the 
whole, peaceful, happy and fortunate, and he had advanced towards 
his object without interruption, and witli suflicient rapidity. His 
constitution, originally weak, Labor and Temperance had rendered 
capable of great endurance. His mind, originally apt and active, 
incessant reading had stored with much that is most valuable 
among the discoveries, the thoughts, and the fancies of past genera- 
tions. In the conflicts of the Debating Society, the printing-office, 
and the tavern, he had exercised Lis powers, and tried the correct- 
neiis of his opinions. If Lis knowledge was incomplete, if there 
were wide domains of knowledge, of which he had little more than 
heard, yet what he did know he knew well ; he had learned it, not 
83 a task, but because he wanted to know it; it partook of the 
vitality of his own mind ; it was his own, and he could use it. 



70 ArPRENTICESHIP. 

If there had been a People's College, to which the new enian 
cipated apprentice could liave gone, and where, earning his subsist- 
ence by the exercise of his trade, he could have spent half of each 
day for the nest two years of Ids life in the systematic study of 
Language, History and Science, under the guidance of men able to 
guide him aright, under the influence of women capable of attracti-ng 
liis regard, and worthy of it — it had been well. But there was not 
(hen, and there is not now, an institution that meets the want and 
tlio need of such as he. 

At any moment there are ten thousand young men and women 
in this country, strong, intelligent, and poor, who are about to go 
forth into the world ignorant, who would gladly go forth instruct- 
ed, if they could get knowledge, and earn it as they get it, by the 
labor of their hands. They are the sons and daughters of our farm- 
ers and mechanics. They are the very elite among the young 
people of the nation. There is talent, of all kinds and all degrees, 
among them — talent, that is the nation's richest possession — talent, 
that could bless and glorify the nation. Should there not be — can 
there not be, somewhere in this broad land, a Uxiveesity-Town" — 
where all trades could be carried on, all arts practiced, all knowl- 
edge accessible, to which tliose who have a desire to become ex- 
cellent in their calling, and those who have an aptitude for art, and 
those who have fallen in love with knowledge, could accomplish 
the wish of their hearts without losing their independence, without 
becoming paupers, or prisoners, or debtors? Surely such a University 
for the People is not an impossibility. To found such an institu- 
tion, or assemblage of institutions — to find out the conditions upon 
wliich it could esist and prosper — were not an easy task. A Com- 
mittee could not do it, nor a 'Board,' nor a Legislature. It is 
an enterprise for One Man— a man of boundless disinterestedness, 
)f immense administrative and constructive talent, ^lile in ex- 
pedients, courageous, persevering, physically strong, and morally 
great — a man born for his work, and devoted to it ' with a quiet, 
deep enthusiasm'. Give such a man the indispensable laud, and 
twenty-five years, and the People's College would be a dream no 
more, but a triumphant and imitable reality; and the founder 
thereof would have done a deed compared with which, eidier 



■ A people's college. 71 

t"or its (lifTiculty or for its results, sucli tfiumpbs as those ofTnit' 
uljrtir and Waterloo would not be wortliy of mention. 

There have been self-sustaining monasteries! "Will there nevet 
be self-sustaining colleg'^«? Is there anything like an inherent 
iiiiyossibilUy in a thousand men and women, in the fresh strengtli 
or youth, capable of a just subordination, Avorking together, eacli 
for all and all for each, with the assistance of steam, machinery. 
and a thousand fertile acres — earning a subsistence by a few hourL"* 
labor per day, and securing, at least, half their time for the acqu'.. 
sition of the art, or the language, or the science which they prefer? 
I think not. "We are at present a nation of ignoramuses, our ig- 
norance rendered only the more conspicuous and misleading, by the 
faint intimations of knowledge which we acquire at our schools. 
Are we to remain such for ever ? 

But if Horace Greeley derived no help from schools and teachers, 
he received no harm from them. lie finished his apprenticeship, 
an uncontaminated young man, with the means of independence 
at his finger-ends, ashamed of no honest employment, of no decent 
habitation, of no cleanly garb. "There are unhappy times," says 
Mr. Carlyle, " in the world's history, when he that is least educated 
will chiefly have to say that he is least pervei'ted; and, with the 
multitude of false eye-glasses, convex, concave, green, or even 
yellow, has not lost the natural use of his eyesP " How were it," 
he asks, " if we surmised, that for a man gifted with natural vigor, 
with a man's character to be developed in him, more especially if 
in the w\ay of literature, as thinker and writer, it is actually, in 
these strange days, no special misfortune to be trained up among 
the uneducated classes, and not among the educated ; but rather, 
of the two misfortunes, the smaller?" And again, he observes, 
' The grand result of schooling is a mind with just vision to discern, 
with free force to do ; the grand schoolmaster is pbaotice." 



CHAPTER V. 

HE WANDERS. 

iv^iACu X.^iS ^om:«ey— His first Overcoat— Home to his Father's Log House— Rantcf 
•he cou..t»j for work— The Sore Leg Cured— Gets Employment, but little Money— 
Aocoiiisrfei :ae Draught-Players— Goes to Erie, Pa.— Interview with, an Editor— 
15eco.jes aJemnfT.manin the Office— Description of Erie— The Lalie- IlisGenero* 
ity to his Fathe^ His New Clothes- No more work at Erie -Starts for New 
York. 

""Well, Horace, and -where are j'ou going now?" asked the kind 
Lndlady of the tavern, as Horace, a few days after the closing of 
the printing-oflBce, appeared on the piazza, equipped for the road — 
*. e., with his jacket on, and with his bundle and his stick in his 
hand. 

'' I am going," was the prompt and sprightly answer, " to Penn- 
sylvania, to see my father, and there I shall stay till my leg gets 
well." 

With these words, Horace laid down the bundle and the stick, 
and took a seat for the last time on that piazza, the scene of many 
a peaceful triuinph, where, as Political Gazetteer, he had often giTen 
the information that he alone, of all the town, could give ; where, 
as political partisan, he had often brought an antagonist to extrem- 
ities ; where, as oddity, he had often fixed the gaze and twisted the 
neck of the passing peddler. 

And was there no demonstration of feeling at the departure of 
so distinguished a personage? There was. But it did not take 
the form of a silver dinner-service, nor of a gold tea ditto, nor of a 
piece of plate, nor even of a gold pen, nor yet of a series of reso- 
lutions. While Horace sat on the piazza, talking with his old 
friends, who gathered around him, a meeting of two individuals 
was held in the corner of the bar-room. They were the landlord 
and one of his boarders ; and the subject of their deliberations 
were, an old brown overcoat belonging to the latter. The land 
lord had the floor, and his speecL was to the following purport : — 



HORACE LEAVES PODLTNET. 73 

" lie felt like doing soraetliing for Horace before he went. Ilorace 
was an entirely unspeakable person. lie had lived a long time in 
the house; ho had never given any trouble, and we feel for him 
•xs for our own son. Now, there is tliat brown over-coat of yours. 
It's cold on the canal, all the summer, in tlie mornings and even- 
ings. Ilorace is poor and his father is poor. You are owing mo 
a little, as much as the old coat is worth, and what I say is, let u« 
pive the poor fellow the overcoat, and call our account squared." 
This feeling oration was received with every demonstration of ap 
proval, and the proposition was carried into effect forthwith. Tlie 
landkiidy gave him a pocket Bible. In a few minutes more, Horace 
rose, iiut his stick through his little red bundle, and both over his 
shoulder, took the overcoat upon his other arm, said ' Good-by,' 
to his friends, promised to write as soon as he was settled again, 
and set off upon his long journey. His good friends of the tavern 
followed him with their eyes, until a turn of the road hid the bent 
and sliambling figure from their sight, and then they turned away 
to praise him and to wish him well. Twenty-five years have 
passed ; and, to this hour, they do not tell the tale of his departure 
without a certain swelling of the heart, without a certain glistening 
of the softer pair of eyes. 

It was a fine, cool, breezy morning in the month of June, 1830. 
Nature had assumed those robes of brilliant green which she wears 
only in June, and welcomed the wanderer forth with that heavenly 
emile which plays upon her changeful countenance only wlien she 
is attired in her best. Deceptive smile ! The forests upon those 
hills of hilly Eutland, brimming with foliage, concealed their granite 
ribs, their chasms, their steeps, their precipices, their morasse?, and 
the reptiles that lay coiled among them ; but they were there. So 
did the alluring aspect of the world hide from the wayfarer the 
struggle, the toil, the danger that await the man who goes out from 
his seclusion to confrt)nt the world ai.oxe— the world of which he 
knows nothing except by hearsay, that cares nothing for him, and 
takes no note of hia arrival. The present wayfarer was destined to 
be quite alone in his conflict with tlie world, and he was destined to 
wrestle with it for many years before it yielded him anything more 
than a show of submission. How prodigal of help is the Devil to 
his scheming and guileful servants ! But the Powers Celestial— 



74 HE WANDERS. 

they love their cliosen too wisely and too well to diminisli by cue 
care the hurthen that makes them strong, to lessen by one pang the 
agony that makes them good, to prevent one mistake of the folly 
that makes them wise. 

Light of heart and step, the traveler walked on. In the after- 
noon he reached Comstock's Fording, fourteen miles from Poultney ; 
thence, partly on canal-boat and partly on foot, he went to Schenec- 
tad}', and there took a 'line-boat' on the Erie Canal. A week of 
tedium in the slow line-boat — a Avalk of a hundred miles through the 
woods, and he had reached his father's log-house. He arrived late in 
the evening. The last ten miles of the journey he performed after 
dark, guided, when he could catch a glimpse of it through thb 
dense foliage, by a star. The journey required at that time about 
twelve days : it is now done in eighteen hours. It cost Horace 
Greeley about seven dollars ; the present cost by railroad is eleven 
dollars ; distance, six hundred miles. 

He found his father and brother transformed into backwoodsmen. 
Their little log-cabin stood in the midst of a narrow clearing, which 
was covered with blackened stumps, and smoked with burning tim- 
ber. Forests, dense and almost unbroken, heavily timbered, abound- 
ing in wolves and every other description of ' vai'mint,' extended a 
day's journey in every direction, and in some directions many days' 
journey. The country was then so wild and ' new,' that a hunter would 
sell a man a deer before it was shot; and appointing the hour when, 
and the spot where, the buyer was to call for his game, would have 
it ready for him as punctually as though he had ordered it at Fulton 
market. The wolves were so bold, that their bowlings could be 
heard at the house as they roamed about in packs in search of the 
sheep; and the solitary camper-out could hear them 'breathe and see 
their eye-balls glare, as they prowled about his smoldering fire. 
Mr. Greeley, who had brought from Vermont a fondness for rearing 
eheep, tried to continue that branch of rural occupation in the wil- 
derness ; but after the wolves, in spite of his utmost care and pre- 
caution, had killed a hundi-ed sheep for him, he gave up the at. 
tempt. But it was a level and a very fertile region — ' varmint' al 
ways select a good 'location' — and it has since been subdued into & 
beautiful land of grass and woods. 

Horace staid at home foi several weeks, assisting his father 



GETS EMPLOYMENT. 75 

fieliing occasionally, and otlierwise amusing liiin.-;elf : while his good 
mother assiduously nursed the sore leg. It healed too slowly for ita 
impatient proprietor, who had learned ' to labor,' 7Wt ' to wait ;' 
and so, one morning, lie walked o.ver to Jamestown, a town twenty 
miles distant, where a newspaper was struggling to get p iblished, 
and applied for work. Work he obtained. It was very freclj 
given ; but at the end of the week the workman received a ])rumise 
to pay, but no payment. He waited and worked four days longer, 
and discovering by that time that there was really no money to be 
had or hoped for in Jamestown, he walked home again, as poor as 
before. 

And now the damaged leg began to swell again prodigiously ; at 
one time it was as largo below the knee as a demijohn. Cut otY from 
other employment, Horace devoted all his attention to the unfortu- 
nate member, but w'ithout result. He heard about this time of a 
famous doctor who lived in that town of Pennsylvania whicii 
exults in the singular name of ' Xorth-East,' dist-unt twenty-fiv« 
miles from his fatlier's clearing. To him, as a last resort, though 
the family could ill afford the trilling expense, Horace went, and 
staid with him a month. " You don't drink liquor," were the 
doctor's first words as he examined the sore, "if you did, you'd 
have a bad leg of it." The patient thouglit he had a bad leg of it, 
without drinking liquor. The doctor's treatment was skillful, and 
finally successful. Among other remedies, ho subjected the limb to 
the action of electricity, and from that day the cure began. The 
patient left North-East greatly relieved, and thougli the leg was 
weak and troublesome for many more months, yet it gradually re- 
covered, the wound subsiding at length into a long red scar. 

He wandered, next, in an easterly direction, in search of employ- 
ment, and found it in the village of Lodi, fifty miles olf, in Cata- 
raugus county. New York. At Lodi, he seems to have cherished 
a hope of being able to remain awhile and earn a little monej'. 
He wrote to his friends in Poultney describing the paper on wliich 
he worked, "as a Jackson paper, a forlorn aflair, else I would have 
Bent you a few numbers." One of his letters written from Lodi to 
a friend in Vermont, contains a passage which may serve to sjjow 
what was going on in the mind of the printer as he stood at the 
case setting up Jacksonian paragraphs. " You are awarv thj*t an 



7b HE WANDERS. 

important election is close at hand in this State, and of coarse, a 
great deal of interest is felt in tlie result. The regular Jacksonians 
imagine that they Avill be able to elect Throop by 20,000 majority; 
but after having obtained all the information I can, I give it as my 
decided opinion, that if none of the candidates decline, we shall 
elect Francis Granger, governor. This county will give him 1000 
majority, and I estimate his vote in the State at 125,000. I need 
not inform you that such a result will be highly satisfactory to your 
liunible servant, H. Greeley." It was a result, however, wliich he 
had not the satisfaction of contemplating. The confident and yet 
cautious manner of the passage quoted is amusing in a politician 
but twenty years of age. 

At Lodi, as at Jamestown, our roving journeyman found work 
much more abundant than money. Moreover, he was in the camp 
of the enemy ; and so at the end of his sixth week, he again took 
bundle and stick and marched homeward, with very little more 
money in Iiis pocket than if he had spent his time in idleness. On his 
way home he fell in with an old Poultne}' friend who had recently 
settled in the wilderness, and Horace arrived in time to assist at 
ihe ' warming' of the new cabin, a dut}' which he performed in » 
nay that covered him with glory. 

In the course of the evening, a draught-board was introduced, 
and the stranger beat in swilt succession half a dozen of tlie best 
players in tlie neigliborhood. It happened that tlie place was rather 
noted for its skillful draught-players, and the game was played in- 
cessantly at private houses and at public. To be beaten in so scan- 
dalous a manner by a passing stranger, and he by no means an 
ornamental addition to an evening party, and young enough to be 
the son of some of the vanquished, nettled them not a little. Tliey 
challenged the victor to another encounter at the tavern on the next 
evening. The challenge was accepted. Tlie evening arrived, and 
there was a considerable gathering to witness and take part in the 
struggle — among the rest, a certain Joe Wilson who iiad been spe- 
cially sent for, and wliom no one had ever beaten, since he came 
into the settlement. The great Joe was held in reserve. The party 
of the previous evening, Horace took in turn, and beat with ease. 
Other players tried to foil his 'Yankee tricks,' but were themselvea 
foiled. The reserve was brought up. Joe Wilson took his seat at 



GOES TO ERIE, PA. 7? 



the table. He played his deadliest, pausing long before he hazarded 
a move; the company hanging over the board, hushed and anxious. 
They were not kept many minutes in suspense ; Joe was overthrown; 
the unornainental stranger was the conqueror. Another game — 
the same result. Another and another and another ; but Joe lost 
every game. Joseph, however, was too good a player not to re- 
spect so potent an antagonist, and he and all the party behaved well 
under their discomliture. The board was laid aside, and a lively 
conversation, ensued, which was continued 'with unabated sphit to 
a late hour.' The next morning, the traveler went on his way, leav- 
ing behind him a most distinguished reputation as a draught-player 
and a politician. 

He remained at home a few days, and then set out again on his 
travels in search of some one who could pay him wages for his 
work. lie took a ' bee line ' through the woods for the town of 
Erie, thirty miles oft", on the shores of the great lake. He had ex- 
hausted the smaller towns; Erie was the last possible move in that 
corner of the board ; and upon Erie he fixed his hopes. There were 
two printing offices, at that time, in the place. It was a town of 
Qve thousand inhabitants, and of extensive lake and inland trade. 

Tlie gentleman still lives who saw the weary pedestrian enter 
Erie, attired in the homespun, abbreviated and stockingless style 
with which the reader is already acquainted. His old black felt hat 
slouched down over his shoulders in the old fashion. The red cot- 
ton handkerchief still contained his wardrobe, and it was carried 
on the same old stick. The country frequenters of Erie were then, 
and are still, particularly rustic in appearance; but our hero seemed 
the very embodiment and incarnation of the rustic Principle ; and 
among tiie crowd of Pennsylvania farmers that thronged the streets, 
he swung along, pre-eminent and peculiar, a marked person, the 
observed of all observers. He, as was his wont, observed nobody, 
but went at once to the office of the Erie Gazette, a weekly paper 
published then and still by Joseph M. Sterrett. 

'•I was not," Judge Sterrett is accustomed to relate, "I was nol 
in the printing office when he arrived. I came in, soon after, and 
saw him sitting at the table reading the newspapers, and so absorbed 
in them that he paid no attention to my entrance. My first feeling 
wad ore of astonishment, that a fellow so singularly 'green' in hii 



78 HE -WANDERS. 

appearance should be reading, and above all, reading so inteutly 
I looked at him for a few moments, and then, finding that he made 
no movement towards acquainting me with his business, I took up 
my composing stick and went to work. He continued to read for 
twenty minutes, or more ; when he got up, and coming close to my 
case, asked, in his peculiar, whining voice, 

*'Do you want any help in the printing business?" 

" Why," said I, running my eye involuntarily up and down the 
extraordinary figure, " did you ever work at the trade ?" 

" Yes," was the reply ; " I worked some at it in an office in Ver- 
mont, and I should be willing to work under instruction, if you 
could give me a job." 

Now Mr. Sterrett did want help in the printing business, and 
could have given him a job; but, unluckily, he misinterpreted this 
modest replj". He at once concluded that the timid applicant was 
a runaway apprentice; and runaw.ay apprentices are a class of their 
fellow-creatures to wliom employers cherish a common and decided 
aversion. "\IVithout communicating his suspicions, he merely said 
that he had no occasion for further assistance, and Horace, without 
a word, left the apartment. 

A similar reception and the same result awaited him at the other 
ofiice ; and so the poor wanderer trudged home again, not in the 
best spirits. 

"Two or three weeks after this interview," continues Judge 
Sterrett— he 2S a judge, I saw him on the bench — "an acquaint- 
ance of mine, a farmer, called at the ofiice, and inquired if I want- 
ed a journej*nian. I did. He said a neighbor of his had a son 
who learned tlie printing business somewhere Down East, and 
wanted a jjlace. 'What sort of a looking fellow is he?' said I. 
He described him, and I knt iv at once that he was my supposed 
runaway apprentice. My frit ad, the farmer, gave hiin a high char 
acter, however; so I said, ' Send him along,' and a day or two 
after along he came." 

The terms on which Hora;e Greeley entered the office of the 
Erie Gazette were of his own naming, and therefore peculiar. He 
would do the best he could, he said, and Mr. Sterrett might pay 
bim what he (Mr. Sterrett) thought he had earned. He had only 
one request to make, and that was, that he should not be required 



THE TOWN OF ERIE, 79 

tr work fit the press, unless the ofEco was so much huiried that hi? 
Borvices ir. that departnierit couhl not be dispensed with. Ke had 
liad a little difficulty with his leg, and press work rather hurt him 
than otherwise. The bargain included the condition that he was to 
board at Mr. Sterrett's house ; and wlien he went to dinner on the 
day of his arrival, a lady of the family expressed her opinion of 
him in the following terms : — " So, ^fr. Sterrett, you 've hired that 
ffllow to work for you, have you? Well, you won't keep him three 
days." In three days she had changed her opinion; and to this 
hour the good lady cannot bring herself to speak otherwise than 
kindly of him, though she is a stanch daughter of turbulent Erie, 
and ' m^tst say, tliat certain articles which appeared in the Tribune 
during the "War, did really seem too bad from one who had been 
himself an Eriean.' But then, 'he gave no more trouble in the 
bouse than if he had n't been in it.' 

Erie, famous in the Last War but one, as the port whence Com- 
modore Perry sailed out to victory — Erie, famous in the last war 
of all, as the place where the men, except a traitorous thirteen, and 
the women, except iJieir faithful wives, all rose as Ose Man against 
tlife Railway Trains, saying, in the tone which is generally described 
as 'not to be misunderstood': "Thus far shalt thou go without 
stopping for refreshment, and no farther," and achieved as Break 
of Gauge men, the distinction accorded in another land to the 
Break o' Day boys— Erie, which boasts of nine thousand inhabit- 
ants, and aspires to become the Buffalo of Pennsylvania — Erie, 
which already has business enough to sustain many stores wherein 
not every article known to traffic is sold, and where a man cannot 
consequently buy coat, hat, boots, physic, plough, crackers, grind- 
stone and penknife, over the same counter — Erie, which has a 
Mayor and Aldermen, a dog-law, and an ordinance against shooting 
off guns in the street under a penalty of five dollars for each and 
every offense — ^Erie, for the truth cannot be longer daslied from 
utterance, is the shabbiest and most broken-down looking large 
town, /, the present writer, an individual not wholly untraveled, 
ever saw, in a free State of this Confederacy. 

The shores of the lake there are 'bluffy,' sixty feet or more above 
|he water, and the land for many miles back is nearly a dead level, 
exceedingly fertile, and quite uninterestmg. 'So^ not quit* Fo» 



80 HE WANDERS. 

much of the primeval forest remains, and the gigantic trees that 
were saDlings when Columbus played in the streets of Genoa, 
tower akft, a hundred feet without a branch, with that exquisite 
daintiness of taper of which the eye never tires, which architecture 
has never equaled, which only Grecian architecture approached, 
and was beautiful because it approaclied it. The City of Erie is 
merely a square mile of this level land, close to the edge of the 
bluflf, vrith a thousand houses built upon it, which are arranged on 
the plan of a corn-field — only, not more than a third of the houses 
have ' come up.' The town, however, condenses to a focus around 
a piece of ground called ' Tbe Park,' four acres in extent, surrounded 
with a low, broken board fence, that was white-washed a long 
time ago, and therefore now looks very forlorn and pig-pen-ny. 
The side-walks around ' The Park ' present an animated scene. The 
huge hotel of the place is there — a cross between the Astor House 
and a country tavern, having the magnitude of the former, the 
quality of the latter. There, too, is the old Court-House, — its 
uneven brick floor covered with the chips of a mortising machine, 
— its galleries up near the high ceiling, kept there by slender 
poles, — its vast cracked, rusty stove, sprawling all askew, and 
putting forth a system of stovepipes that Avander long through 
space before they find the chimney. Justice is administered in 
that Court-house in a truly free and easy style ; and to hear the 
drowsy clerk, with his heels in the air, administer, 'twixt sleep 
and awake, the tremendous oath of Pennsylvania, to a brown, 
abashed farmer, with his right hand raised in a manner to set 
off his awkwardness to the best advantage, is worth a journey 
to Erie. Two sides of 'The Park' are occupied by the principal 
stores, before which the country wagons stand, presenting a con- 
tinuous range of muddy wheels. The marble structure around 
the corner is not a Greek temple, though built in tlie style of 
one, and quite deserted enough to be a ruin — it is the Erie Cus- 
tom House, a fine example of governmental management, as it 
is as much too large for the business done in it as the Custom 
House of New York is too small. 

The Erie of the present yeT is, of course, not the Erie of 1831, 
when Horace Greeley walke*^ its streets, with his eyes on the pave- 
ment and a bundle of exc}•^-ges in his pocket, ruminating on the 



THE LAKE, 81 

prospects of the next election, or thinking out a copy of verses to 
Bond to his mother. It "was a smaller place, tlien, with fewei bricl; 
blocks, viore pigs in the street, and no custom-house in the Greek 
Btyle. But it had one feature which has not changed. The Lakf 
was there ! 

An island, seven miles long, but not two miles wide, once a part 
of the main land, lies opposite the town, at an apparent distance of 
lialf a mile, though in reality two mik-s and a half from the shore. 
This island, which approaches the main land at either extremity, 
forms the harbor of Erie, and gives to that part of the lake the ef- 
fect of a river. Beyond, the Great Lake stretches away further 
than the eye can reach. 

A great lake in fine weather is like the ocean only in one particu- 
lar — you cannot see across it. The ocean asserts itself; it is demon- 
strative. It heaves, it flashes, it sparkles, it foams, it roars. On the 
stillest day, it does not quite go to sleep ; the tide steals up the white 
beach, and glides back again over the shells and pebbles musically, or 
it murmurs along the sides of black rocks, with a subdued though al- 
ways audible voice. The ocean is a living and life-giving thing, ' fair, 
and fresh, and ever free.' The lake, on a fine day, lies dead. No 
tide breaks upon its earthy shore. It is as blue as a blue ribbon, as 
blue as the sky ; and vessels come sailing out of heaven, and go sail- 
ing into heaven, and no eye can discern where the lake ends and 
heaven begins. It is as smooth as a mirror's face, and as dull as a 
mirror's back. Often a light mist gathers over it, and then the lake 
is gone from the prospect ; but for an occasional sail dimly descried, 
or a streak of black smoke left by a passing steamer, it would give 
absolutely no sign of its presence, though the spectator is standing 
a quarter of a mile from the shore. Oftener the mist gathers thick- 
.y along the horizon, and then, so perfect is the illusion, the stran- 
ger will swear he sees the opposite shore, not fifteen miles off. 
There is no excitement in looking upon a lake, and it has no effect 
upon the appetite or the compjlexion. Yet there is a quiet, languid 
beauty hovering over it, a beauty all its own, a charm that grows 
upon the mind the longer you linger upon the shore. The Castle 
of Indolence should have been placed upon the bank of Lake EriO; 
Jvhere its inmates could have lain on the grass and gazed down, 
6 



82 HE AVANUERS. 

tlirougli all the slow hours of the long summer day, upon the lazy 
hazy, hlue expanse. 

When the wind hlows, the lake wakes up ; and still it is not the 
ocean. The waves are discolored by the eartky bank upon which 
they break with un-oceanlike monotony. They neither advance 
nor recede, nor roar, nor swell. A great lake, with all its charms, 
and they are many and great, is only an infinite pond. 

The people of Erie care as much for the lake as the people of 
Niagara care for the cataract, as much as people generally care for 
anything wonderful or anything beautiful which they can see by 
turning their heads. In other words, they care for it as the means 
by which lime, coal, and lumber may be transported to another and 
a better market. Is'ot one house is built along the shore, though the 
shore is high and level. Not a path has been worn by human feet 
above or below the bluff. Pigs, sheep, cows, and sweet-brier bushes 
occupy the unenclosed ground, which seems so made to be built 
upon that it is surprising the handsome houses of the town should 
Lave been built anywhere else. One could almost say, in a weak 
xTioment, Give me a cottage on the bluff, and I will Ihe at Erie ! 

It was at Erie, probably, that Horace Greeley first saw the uni- 
form of the American navy. The United States and Great Britain 
are eacii permitted by treaty to keep one vessel of war in commis- 
sion on the Great Lakes. The American vessel usually lies in the 
harbor of Erie, and a few officers may be seen about the town. 
What the busy journeyman printer thought of those idle gentlemen, 
apparently tlie only quite useless, and certainly the best dressed, 
persons in the place, may be guessed. Perhaps, however, he passed 
them by, in his absent way, and saw them not. 

In a few days, the new comer was in high favor at the office of 
the Erie Gazette. lie is remembered there as a remarkably correct 
and reliable compositor, though not a rapid one, and his steady 
devotion to his work enabled him to accomplish more than faster 
workmen. He was soon placed by his employer on the footing of 
a regular journeyman, at the usual wages, twelve dollars a month 
and board. All the intervals of labor he spent in reaviing. As 
soon as the hour of cessation arrived, he would hurry off his apron, 
wash his hands, and lose himself in his book or his newspapers, 
often forgetting his dinner, and often forgetting whether he had had 



NO MORE WORK AT ERIE. 83 

b\s (limior or not. More and more, he became absorbed in politics. 
It is said, by one who worked beside him at Erie, that lie could tell 
the name, post-office address, and something of tlie history and 
political leanings, of every member of Congress ; and that he could 
give the particulars of every important election that had occurred 
within his recollection, oven, in some instances, to the county 
majorities. 

And thus, in earnest work and earnest reading, seven profitable 
and not unhappy months passed swiftly away. He never lost one 
day's work. On Sundays, he read, or walked along the shores of 
the !al:o, or sailed over to the Island. His better fortune made no 
change either in his habits or his appearance; and his emi)loyer 
was surprised, that month after month passed, and yet his strange 
journeyman drew no money. Once, Mr. S'.errett ventured to 
rally him a little upon his jjersistence in wearing the hereditary 
hom.espun, saying, '"Now, Horace, you have a good deal of money 
coming to you ; don't go about the town any longer in that out- 
landish rig. Let me give you an order on the store. Dress up a 
little, Horace." To which Horace replied, looking down at the 'out- 
landish rig,' as though he had never seen it before, " You see, Mr. 
Sterrett, my father is on a new place, and I want to help him all I 
can." However, a short time after, Horace did make a faint effort 
to dress up a little ; but the few articles which he bouglit were so 
extremely coarse and common, that it was a question in the office 
whether his appearance was improved by the change, or the 
contrary. 

At the end of the seventh month, the man whose sickness had 
made a temporary vacancy in the office of the Gazette, returned to 
his place, and there was, in consequence, no more work for Horace 
Greeley. Upon the settlement of his account, it appeared that ho 
had drawn for his personal expenses during his residence at Erie, 
the sum of six dollars! Of the remainder of his Avages, he took 
about fifteen dollars in money, and the rest in the form of a note; 
and with all this wealth in his jiocket, he walked once more to his 
father's house. This note the generous fellow gave to his father, 
reserving the money to carry on his own personal warfare with the 
world. 

And now, Horace was tired of dallying with fortune in conn- 



gj^ ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. 

try printing offices. He said, he thought it was time to do sora* 
thin- and he formed the bold resolution of going straight to New 
York and seeking his fortune in the metropolis. After a few days of 
recreation at home, he tied up his bundle once more, put his money 
in his pocket, and plunged into the woods ia the direction of the 
lirio Canal. 



CHAPTER VI. 

ARRIVAL IX NEW YORK. 

he joimiey— a night on the tow-path— He reaches the city— Inventory of his property 
—Looks for aboarding-house— Finds one— Expends half his capital upon clothes 
—Searches for employment— Berated by David Hale as a runaway apprentice- 
Continues the search— Goes to church— Hears of a vacancy— Obtains work— Tli* 

boss takes him for a ' fool,' but changes his opinion— Nicknamed ' the Ghost ■ 

— Practical jokes— Horace metamorphosed— Dispute about commas — The shoe- 
maker's boarding-house — Grand banquet on Sundays. 

He took the canal-boat at Buffalo and came as far as Lockport, 
whence he walked a few miles to Gaines, and staid a day at the 
house of a friend whom he had known in Vermont. Next morn- 
ing he walked back, accompanied by his friend, to the canal, and 
both of them waited many hours for an eastward-bound boat to 
pass. Night came, but no boat, and the adventurer persuaded his 
friend to go home, and set out himself to walk on the tow-path to- 
wards Albion. It was a very dark night. He walked slowly on, 
hoar after hour, looking anxiously behind him for the expected 
boat, looking more anxiously before him to discern the two fiery 
eyes of the boats bound to the west, in time to avoid being swejit 
into the canal by the tow-line. Towards morning, a boat of liie 
slower sort, a scow probably, overtook him ; he went on board, and 
tired with his long walk, lay down in the cabin to rest. Sleep was 
tardy in alighting upon his eye-lids, and he had the pleasure of 
hearing his merits and his costume fully and freely discussed 
by his fellow passengers. It was Monday morning. One passen- 
ger explained the coming on board of the stranger at so unusual an 







a 



INVENTORV OF HIS PROPERTV. 



85 



'lonr, l)y suggesting tliat he lind been courting all iiiglit. (Sundaj 
evening in conntry places is sucrcil to love.) His a])pearance was so 
exceedingly unlike that of a lover, that this sally created much 
aninsenicnt, in wliich the wakeful traveler shared. At Rochester 
he took a faster boat. "Wednesday night he reached Schenectady, 
where he left the canal and walked to Albany, as the canal betv.een 
thoso two towns is much obstructed by locks. ITe reached Albany 
on Tliursday morning, just in time to see the seven o'clock steam- 
boat move out into the stream. He, therefore, took passage in « 
tow-boat which started at ten o'clock on the same morning. At 
sunrise on Friday, the eighteenth of August, 1831, Horace Grecilej 
landed at Whitehall, close to the Battery, in the city of ISTew York. 

New York was, and is, a city of adventurers. Few of our emi- 
nent citizens were born here. It is a common boast among New 
Yorkers, that this great merchant and that great millionaire came 
to the city a ragged boy, with only three and sixpence in his 
pocket; and now look at him ! In a list of the one hundred men 
who are esteemed to be the most 'successful ' among the citizens 
of New York, it is probable that seventy-five of the names would 
be those of men who began their career here in circumstances that 
gave no promise of future eminence. But among them all. it is 
questionable whether there was one who on his arrival had so lit- 
tle to help, so much to hinder him, as Horace Greeley. 

Of solid cash, his stock Avas ten dollars. His other property con- 
sisted of the clothes he wore, the clothes he carried m his small 
bundle, and the stick with which he carried it. Tlie clothes he 
wore need not be described ; they were those which had already 
astonished the people of Erie. The clothes he carried were very 
few, and precisely similar in cut and quality to the garments which 
he exhibited to the public. On the violent supposition that his 
wardrobe conld in any case have become a salable commodity, we 
may compute that he was worth, on this Friday morning at sun- 
rise, ten dollars and seventy-five cents. He had no friend, no ac- 
quaintance here. There was not a human being upon whom he 
had any claim for help or advice. Ilis appearance was all against 
bin;. He looked in his round jacket like an overgrown boy. No 
one was likely to observe the engaging beauty of his face, or the 
noble round of his brow under that overhanging hat, over that 



^G ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. 

long and stooping body. He was somewhat timorous in his inter 
oom-se with strangers. He would not intrude upon their attention ; 
he had n^t the faculty of pushing his way, and proclaiming his mer- 
its and his desires. To the arts by which men are conciliated, by 
which unwilling ears are forced to attend to an unwelcome tale, he 
was utterly a stranger. Moreover, he had neglected to bring with 
him any letters of recommendation, or any certificate of liis skil) 
as a prmier. It had not occurred to him that anything of the kind 
was necessary, so unacquainted was he with the life of cities. 

His first employment was lo find a boarding-house where he 
could live a long time on a small sum. Leaving the green Battery 
on his left hand, he strolled off into Broad-street, and at the corner 
of that street and Wall discovered a house that in his eyes had the 
aspect of a cheap tavern. He entered the bar-room, and asked the 
price of board. 

" I guess we 're too high for you," said the bar-keeper, after 
bestowing one glance upon the inquirer. 

" Well, how much a week do you charge?" 

" Six dollars." 

" Yes, that 's more than I can afford," said Horace with a laugh 
at the enormous mistake he had made in inquiring at a house of 
such pretensions. 

He turned up Wall-street, and sauntered into Broadway. Seeing 
no house of entertainment that seemed at all suited to his circum- 
stances, he sought the water once more, and wandered along the 
wharves of the North River as far as Washington-market. Board- 
ing-houses of the cheapest kind, and drinking-houses of the lowest 
grade, the former frequented chiefly by emigrants, the latter by 
sailors, were numerous enough in that neighborhood. A house, 
which combined the low groggery and the cheap boarding-house 
in one small establishment, kept by an Irishman named M'Gorlick, 
chanced to be the one that first attracted the rover's attention. It 
looked so mean and squalid, that he Avas tempted to enter, and 
again inquire for what sum a man could buy a week's shelter and 
Bustenance. 

"Twenty shillings," was the landlord's reply. 

" Ah," said Horace, " that sounds more like it." 

Ho engaged to board with Mr. M'Gorlick on the instant, and 



SEARCHES FOR EMPLOYMENT. S7 

proceeded soon to test the quality of liis fare by taking breakfast 
in the bosom of Iiis family. The cheapness of the entertainment 
was its best recommendation. 

After breakfast Horace performed an act ^vllich I believe he had 
never spontaneously performed before, lie bought some clothes, 
with a view to render himself more presentable. They were of 
the commonest kind, and the garments were few, but the purchase 
ubsorbed nearly half his capital. Satisfied with his ai)pearance, he 
now began the round of the printing-offices, going into every one 
he could find, and asking for employment — merely asking, and 
going away, without a word, as soon as he was refused. In the 
course of the morning, he found himself in the office of the Journal 
of Commerce, and he chanced to direct his inquiry, ' if they wanted 
a hand,' to the late David Hale, one of the proprietors of the paper. 
Mr. Hale took a survey of the person who had presumed to ad- 
dress him, and replied in substance as follows : — 

" My opinion is, young man, that you 're a runaway apprentice, 
and you 'd better go home to your master." 

Horace endeavored to explain his position and circumstances, 
but the impetuous Hale could be brought to no more gracious 
response than, " Be off about your business, and don't bother us." 

Horace, more amused than indignant, retired, and pursued his 
way to the next office. All that day he walked tlie streets, climb- 
ed into upper stories, came down again, ascended other heights, 
descended, dived into basements, traversed passages, groped through 
labyrinths, ever asking the same question, 'Do you want a hand?' 
and ever receiving the same reply, in various degrees of civility, 
'No.' He walked ten times as many miles as he needed, for he 
was not aware that nearly all the printing-offices in New York are 
in the same square mile. He went the entire length of many streets 
which any body could have told him did not contain one. 

He went home on Friday evening very tired and a little dis- 
coui-aged. 

Early on Saturday morning he resumed the search, and continued 
it with energy till the evening. But no one wanted a hand. Busi- 
ness seemed to be at a stand-still, or every office had its full comple* 
ment of men. On Saturday evening ho was still more fatigued. 
He resolved to retcaiu in the city a day or two longer, and then, if 



88 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK 

Btill unsuccessful, to turn his face homeward, and inquire for W(;rh 
at the towns through which he passed. Though discouraged, he 
was not disheartened, and still less alarmed. 

The youthful reader should observe here what a sense of inde- 
pendence and what fearlessness dwell in the spirit of a man who has 
learned the art of living on the mere necessaries of life. If Horace 
Greeley had, after another day or two of trial, chosen to leave tlie 
city, he would have carried with him about four dollars ; and with 
tliat sum he could have walked leisurely and with an unanxioua 
heart all the way back to his father's house, six hundred miles, 
inquiring for work at every town, and feeling himself to be a free 
and independent American citizen, traveling on his own honestly- 
earned means, undegraded by an obligation, the equal in social rank 
of the best man in the best house he passed. Blessed is the 3'oung 
man who can walk thirty miles a day, and dine contentedly on half 
a pound of crackei's! Give him four dollars and summer weather, 
and he can travel and revel like a prince incog, for forty days. 

On Sunday morning, our hero arose, refreshed and cheerful. He 
went to church twice, and spent a happy day. In the morning he 
induced a man who lived in the house to accompany him to a small 
Universalist church in Pitt street, near the Dry Dock, not less than 
three miles distant from M'Gorlick's boarding-house. In the evening 
he found his way to a Unitarian church. Except on one occasion, 
he had never before this Sunday heard a sermon Avhich accorded 
with his own religious opinions; and the pleasure with which he 
heard the benignity of the Deity asserted and proved by able men, 
was one of the highest he had enjoyed. 

In the afternoon, as if in reward of the pious way in which he 
spent the Sunday, he heard news which gave him a faint hope of 
being able to remain in the city. An Irishman, a friend of the 
landlord, came in the course of the afternoon to pay his usua. Sun- 
day visit, and became acquainted with Horace and his fruitless 
search for work. He was a shoemaker, I believe, but he lived in a 
liouse wliich was much frequented by journeymen printers. From 
them he had heard that hands were wanted at West's, No. 85 Chat- 
ham street, and he recommended his new acquaintance to make 
immediate application at that office. 

Accustomed to country hours, and eager to seize the chancy 



HE HEARS OF A VACANCT. 89 

Horace was in Chatham street and on the steps of the dcsignat^-O 
nouse by hah'"-past five on Monday morning. "West's printing office 
was in tlie second story, the ground floor being occupied by Mc- 
Elrath and Bangs as a boolcstore, Tliey were publishers, and West 
was their printer. Neither store nor office was yet opened, and 
Horace sat down on the steps to wait. 

Had Thomas McElrath, Esquire, happened to pass on an early 
walk to the Battery tliat morning, and seen our hero sitting on those 
steps, with his red bundle on his knees, his pale face supported on 
his hands, his attitude expressive of dejection and anxiety, his attire 
extremely unornaniental, it would not have occurred to Thomas Mc- 
Elrath, Esquire, as a. 2}i'ohaMe event, that one day he would be the 
PAETXEii of that sorry figure, and proud of the connection ! Nor did 
Miss Reed, of Philadelphia, when she saw Benjamin Franklin pass 
her father's house, eating a large roll and carrying two others under 
his arms, see in that poor wanderer any likeness to her future hus- 
band, the husband that made her a jiroud and an immortal wife. 
The princes of the mind always remain incog, till they come to the 
throne, and, doubtless, the Coming Man, when he comes, will appear 
in a strange disguise, and no man will know him. 

It seemed very long before any one came to work that morning 
at No. 85. The steps on which our friend was seated were in the 
narrow part of Chatham-street, the gorge through which at morn- 
ing and evening the swarthy tide of mechanics pours. By six 
o'clock the stream has set strongly down-town-ward, and it gradu- 
ally swells to a torrent, bright with tin kettles. Thousands passed 
by, but no one stopped till nearly seven o'clock, when one of Mr. 
"West's journeymen arrived, and finding the door s^ill locked, ho sat 
down on the steps by the side of Horace Greeley. Tiiey fell into 
conversation, and Horace stated his circumstances, something of his 
history, and his need of employment. Lnckily this journoyman was 
a Yermonter, and a kind-hearted, intelligent man. He looked upon 
Horace as a countryman, and was struck with the singular candor 
and artlessness with which he told his tale. " I saw," says he, " thai 
he was an honest, good young man, and being a Vermonter mysell^ 
I determined to help him if I could." 

He did help him. The doors were opened, the men began to 
iriive : Horace and his newly-found friend ascended to the offico, 



90 ARRIVAL IN NEW TORE. 

and soon after seven the work of the day began. It is liardly neces- 
sary to say that the appearance of Horace, as he sat in the office 
waiting for the coming of the foreman, excited unbounded astonish- 
ment, and brought upon his friend a variety of satirical observations. 
Nothing daunted, however, on the arrival of the foreman lie st.ited 
the case, and endeavored to interest him enough in Horace to give 
him a trial. It happened tliat the work for whicli a man was wanted 
ir the otBce was the composition of a Polyglot Testament; a kind 
of work which is extremely difficult and tedious. Several men had 
tried their hand at it, and, in a few days or a few hours, given it up. 
The foreman looked at Horace, and Horace looked at the foreman. 
Horace saw a handsome man (now known to tlie sporting public aa 
Colonel Porter, editor of the Spirit of the Times.) The foreman 
beheld a youtb who could have gone on the stage, that minute, as 
Ezekiel Homespun without tlio alteration of a thread or a hair, and 
brought down the house by his ' getting up' alone. He no more 
beheved that Ezekiel could set up a page of a Polyglot Testament 
than that he could construct a chronometer. However, partly to 
oblige Horace's friend, partly because be was unwilling to wound 
the feelings of the applicant by sending him abruptly away, he con- 
sented to let him try. " Fix up a case for him," said he, " and we '11 
gee if he can do anything." In a few minutes Horace was at 
work. 

The gentleman to whose intercession Horace Greeley owed his 
first employment in Xew-York is now known to all the dentists in 
the Union as the leading member of a firm which manufactures 
annually twelve hundred thousand artificial teeth. He has made 
a fortune, the reader will be glad to learn, and lives in a mansion up 
town. 

After Horace had been at work an hour or two, Mr. West, the 
' boss,' came into the ofiice. What his feelings were when he saw 
his new man, may be inferred from a little conversation upon the 
subject which took place between him and the foreman. 

" Did you hire that fool ?" asked West with no small irri- 

tation. 

" Yes ; we must have hands, and he 's the best I could get," said 
the foreman, justifying h"s conduct, though he was really ashamed 
of it. 



NICKNAMED " THE GHOST. 91 

"Well," said the master, "for God's sake pay liira off to-night, 
and let him go about his business." 

Horace worked through the day with his usual intensity, and ic 
perfect silence. At night he presented to the foreman, as the cu? 
torn then was, the 'proof of his day's Avork What astonishment 
was depicted in the good-looking countenance of that gentleman 
when he discovered tliat the proof before him was greater in quan- 
tity, and more correct than that of any other day's work which 
bad yet been done on the Polyglot ! There was no thought of send- 
ing tlie new journeyman about his business now. He was an es- 
tablished man at once. Thenceforward, for several months, Horace 
worked regularly and hard on the Testament, earning about six dol- 
lars a week. 

He had got into good company. There were about twenty men 
and boj's in the office, altogether, of whom two have since been 
members of Congress, three influential editors, and several ctherg 
have attained distinguislied success in more private vocations. Most 
of thern are still alive; they remember vividly the coming among 
them of Horace Greeley, and are fond of describing his ways and 
works. The following paragraph the reader is requested to regard 
as the condensed statement of their several recollections. 

Horace worked with most remarkable devotion and intensity. 
His task was difficult, and he was paid by the ' piece.' In order, 
therefore, to earn tolerable wages, it was necessary for him to work 
harder and longer than any of his companions, and he did so. 
Often he was at his case before six in the morning; often he 
had not left it at nine in the evening ; always, he was the first to 
begin and the last to leave. In tlie summer, no man beside him 
self worked before breakfast, or after tea. While the young men 
and older apprentices were roaming tlie streets, seeking their 
pleasure, he, by the light of a candle stuck in a bottle, was eking 
out a slender day's wages by setting up an extra column of the 
Polyglot Testament. 

For a day or two, the men of the office eyed him askaHce, and 
winked at one another severely. The boys were more demonstra- 
tive, and one of the most mischievous among them named him 
The GnosT, in allusion to his long white hair, and the singular fair- 
ness of his complexion. Soon, however, the men who work<"i near 



92 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. 

liim began to snspcct that bis mind was better furnished than hU 
person. Horace always had a way of talking profusely while at 
work, and that, too, without working with less assiduity. Conver- 
Bations soon <.rose about masonry, temperance, politics, religion; 
and tbe new journeyman rapidly argued his way to respectful con- 
sideration. His talk was ardent, animated, and positive. He waa 
perfectly confident of his opinions, and maintained them with an 
assurance that in a youth of less understanding and less geniality 
would have been thought arrogance. His enthusiasm at this time, 
was Henry Clay ; his great subject, masonry. In a short time, to 
^■lote the language of one bis fellow-workmen, ' he was the lion of 
the shop.' Yet for all that, the men who admired him most would 
nave their joke, and during all the time that Horace remained in 
ihe office, it was the standing amusement to make nonsensical re- 
marks in order to draw from him one of his shrewd, half-comic, 
Scotch-Irish retorts. " And we always got it," says one. 

The boys of tlie office were overcome by a process similar to that 
which frustrated the youth of Poultney. Four or five of them, 
who knew Horace's practice of returning to tlie office in the even- 
ing and working alone by candle-light, concluded tliat that would 
be an excellent time to play a few printing-office tricks upon him. 
They accordingly lay in ambush one evening, in the dark recesses 
of the shop, and awaited the appearance of the Ghost. He had no 
sooner lighted his candle and got at work, than a ball, made of 'old 
roller,' wliizzed past his ear and knocked over his candle. He set 
it straight again and went on with his work. Another ball, and 
another, and anotlier, and finally a volley. One hit his 'stick,' one 
scattered his type, another broke his bottle, and several struck his 
liead. He bore it till the balls came so fast, that it was impossible 
for him to work, as all his time was wasted in repairing damages. 
At lengtli, he turned round and said, without tlie slightest ill-linmor 
and in a supplicating tone, " Now, boys, don't. I want to work. 
Please, now, let me alone." The boys came out of their places of 
concealment into the light of the candle, and troubled him no 
nore. 

Thus, it appears, that every man can best defend himself with 
the weapon that nature has provided him— whether it be fists or 
.brgiveness. Little Jane Eyre was of opinion that when anybodj 



THE OBLIGING MAN OF THE OFFICE. 93 

lias struck another, he slioiild himself be struck; "very liard," saja 
Jane, "so hanl, tliat he will be afraid ever to strike anybody again." 
On the contrary, thought Horace Greeley, when any one has wan- 
tonly or unjustly struck another, he should be so severely forgiven, 
nnd made so thoroughly ashamed of himself, that he will ever after 
ehrink from striking a wanton or an unjust blow. Sound maxims, 
both ; the first, for Jane, the second, for Horace. 

His good humor was, in truth, naturally imperturbaolo. He wa3 
soon the recognized obliging man of tlie office ; the person relied 
apon al\va3-s when help was needed — a most inconvenient kind of 
reputation. Among mechanics, money is generally abundant enough 
on Sundays and Mondays ; and they spend it freely on those days. 
Tuesday and Wednesday, they are only in moderate circumstances. 
The last days of the week are days of pressure and borrowing, 
when men are in a better condition to be treated than to treat. 
Horace Greeley was the man who had money always; he was as 
ricii apparently on Saturday afternoon as on Sunday morning, and 
as willing to lend. In an old memorandum-book belonging to one 
of his companions in those days, still may be deciphered such en- 
tries as these: 'Borrowed of Horace Greeley, 2s.' 'Owe Horace 
Greeley, 9s. 6d.' ' Owe Horace Greeley, 23. 6d, for a breastpin.' 
He never refused to lend liis money. To himself, he allowed scarce- 
ly anything in the way of luxury or amusement; unless, indeed, 
an occasional purchase of a small share in a lottery-ticket may be 
styled a luxury. 

Lotteries were lawful in those days, and Chatham-street was 
where lottery-offices most abounded. It was regarded as a per 
fectly respectable and legitimate business to keep a lottery-office, 
and a perfectly proper and moral action to buy a lottery-ticket. 
The business was conducted openly and fairly, and under official 
supervision ; not as it now is, by secret and irresponsible agents in 
all parts of the city and country. Whether less money, or more, 
is lust by lotteries now than formerly, is a question which, it ia 
surprising, no journalist has determined. Wiiether they cause 
less or greater demoralization is a question which it were well 
for moralists to consider. 

Of the few incidents which occurred to relieve the monotony of 



'j4. arrival IX NEW YORK. 

the priuting-office in Chatham street, the one which is most glee- 
fully rememhered is the following : — 

Horace was, of course, subjected to a constant tire of jocular 
observations upon his dress, and frequently to practical jokes sug- 
gested by its deficiencies and redundancies. Men stared at him in 
the streets, and boys called after him. Still, however, he clung to 
his linen roundabout, his short trowsers, his cotton shirt, and his 
dilapidated hat. Still he wore no stockings, and made his wrist- 
bands meet with twine. For all jokes upon the subject he had deaf 
ears ; and if any one seriously remonstrated, he would not defend 
himself by explaining, that all the money he could spare was need- 
ed in the wilderness, six hundred miles away, wliither he punctually 
sent it. September passed and October. It began to be cold, but 
our hero had been toughened by the winters of Vermont, and still 
he walked about in linen. One evening in November, when busi- 
ness was urgent, and all the men worked till late in the evening, 
Horace, instead of returning immediately after tea, as his custom 
was, was absent from the office for two hours. Between eight and 
nine, when by chance all the men were gathered about the ' com- 
posing stone,' upon which a strong light was thrown, a strange 
figure entered the office, a tall gentleman, dressed in a complete suit 
of faded broadcloth, and a shabby, over-brushed beaver hat, from 
beneath which depended long and snowy locks. Tlie garments 
were fashionably cut ; the coat was in the style of a swallow's 
tail; tlie ligure was precisely that of an old gentleman who had 
sjeen better days. It advanced from the darker parts of the office, 
and emerged slowly into the glare around the composing stone. 
The men looked inquiringly. The figure spread out its hands, 
looked down at its habiliments with an air of infinite complacency, 
and said, — 

" "Well, boys, and how do you like me now ?" 

" "Wliy, it 's Greeley," screamed one of the men. 

It was Greeley, metamorphosed into a decayed gentleman by a 
second hand suit of black, bought of a Chatham-street Jew for five 
dollars. 

A shout arose, such as had never before been heard at staid and 
regular 85 Chatham-street. Cheer upon cheer was given, and meu 



PRACTICAL JOKES. 95 

lauglicil till the tears came, the veuerable gentleman beiig as hapiij 
as the happiest. 

" Greeley, you must treat upon that suit, and no mistake,'' eaid 

one. 

" Oh, of course," said everybody else. 

" Come along, boys ; I '11 treat," was Horace's ready response. 
All the company repaired to the old grocery on the corner of 
Duane-street, and there each individual partook of the beverage 
that i)leased him, the treater indulging in a glass of spruce beer. 
Posterity may as well know, and take warning from the fact, that 
this five-dollar suit was a failure. It had been worn thin, and bad 
been washed in blackened Avater and ironed smooth. A week's 
wear brought out all its pristine shabbiness, and developed new. 

Our hero was not, perhaps, quite so indiflxirent to his personal ap- 
])earance as he seemed. One day, when Colonel Porter happened 
to remark that his hair had once been as white as Horace Greeley's, 
Horace said with great earnestness, '" Was it?"— as though he drew 
from that fact a hope that his own hair might darken as he grew 
older. And on another occasion, when he had just returned from a 
visit to New-Hampshire, he said, "Well, I have been up in the 
country among my cousins; they are all good-looking young men 
enough ; I do n't see why / should be such a curious-looking fel- 
low." 

One or two other incidents which occurred at West's are perhaps 
worth telling; for one well-authenticated fact, though apparently 
of trifling importance, throws more light upon character than pages 
of general reminiscence. 

It was against the rules of the office for a compositor to enter the 
press-room, which adjoined the composing-room. Our hero, how- 
ever, went on one occasion to the forbidden a])artment to speak to 
a friend who worked there upon a hand-press that was exceedingly 
bard to pull. 

"Greeley," said one of the men, "you're a pretty stout fellow, 
but you can 't pull back that lever." 

" Can 't I ?" said Horace ; " I can." 

" Try it, then," said the mischief-maker. 

The press was arranged in such a manner that the lever offered 
uo resbtauce whatever, and, consequently, when Horace seized It, 



96 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. 

and collected all his strength for a tremendous effort, lie fell Lack 
wards on the floor with great violence, and brought away a large 
part of the press with him. There was a thundering noise, and all 
the house came running to see what was the matter, Horace got 
up, pale and trembhng from the concussion. 

" Now, that was too bad," said he. 

He stood his ground, however, Avhile the man Avho had played 
the trick gave the 'boss' a fictitious explanation of the mishap, with- 
out mentioning the name of the apparent offender. "When all was 
quiet again, Horace went privately to the pressman and offered to 
fiay his share of the damage done to the press ! 

"With Mr. West, Horace had little intercourse, and yet they did 
on several occasions come into collision. Mr. West, like all other 
bosses and men, had a weakness ; it was commas. He loved com- 
mas, he was a stickler for commas, he was irritable on the subject 
of commas, he thought more of commas than any other point of 
prosody, and above all, he was of opinion that he knew more about 
commas than Horace Greeley. Horace had, on his part, no objec- 
tion to commas, but he loved them in moderation, and was deter- 
mined to keep them in their place. Debates ensued. Tlie journey- 
man expounded the subject, and at length, after much argument, 
convinced his employer that a redundancy of commas was possible, 
and, in short, that he, the journeyman, knew how to preserve the 
balance of power between the various points, without the assist- 
ance or advice of any boss or man in Chatham, or any other street. 
There was, likewise, a certain professor whose book was printed in 
the office, and who often came to read the proofs. It chanced that 
Horace set up a few pages of this book, and took the liberty of al- 
tering a few phrases that seemed to him inelegant or incorrect. The 
professor was indignant, and though he was not so ignorant as 
not to perceive that his language had been altered for the better, he 
thought it due to his dignity to apply opprobrious epithets to the 
impertinent compositor. The compositor argued the matter, but 
did not appease the great man. 

Soon after obtaining work, our friend found a better boarding- 
house, at least a more convenient one. On the corner of Duane- 
Btreet and Chatham there was, at tliat time, a large building, oc- 
cupied below as a grocery and bar-room, the upper stories a-s a ' e- 



,nlS shoemaker's BOARDING-HOUSE. 97 

chaiiics' boarding-house. It acconnnodated about fifty boarders^ 
most of ■whom were shoe-makers, wlio worked in their own rooms, 
or in shops at tlie top of the house, and paid, for room and board, 
two dollars and a half per week. This was the house to whicli 
Horace Greeley removed, a few days after his arrival in the city, 
and there he lived for more than two years. The reader of the 
Tribune may, perhaps, remember, that its editor has frequently dis- 
played a particular acquaintance with the business of shoe-making, 
and drawn many illustrations of the desirableness and feasibility 
of association from the excessive labor and low wages of shoe- 
makers. It was at this house that he learned the mysteries of the 
craft. He was accustomed to go up into the shops, and sit among 
the men while waiting for dinner. It was here, too, that he obtain- 
ed that general acquaintance with the life and habits of city me- 
chanics, wliich has enabled him since to address them so wisely 
and so convincingly. lie is remembered by those who lived with 
him there, only as a very quiet, thoughtful, studious young man, 
one who gave no trouble, never went out ' to spend the evening,' 
and read nearly every minute when he was not working or eating. 
The late Mr. "Wilson, of the Brother Jonathan, Avho was his room- 
mate for some months, used to say, that often he went to bed leav- 
ing his companion absorbed in a book, and when he awoke in the 
morning, saw him exactly in the same position and attitude, as 
though he had not moved all night. He had not read all night, 
however, but had risen to his book with the dawn. Soon after 
sunrise, he went over the way to his work. 

Another of Mr. "Wilson's reminiscences is interesting. The 
reader is aware, perhaps, from experience, that people who pay only 
two dollars and a half per week for board and Icfdging are not pro- 
vided with all the luxuries of the season ; and that, not unfrequent- 
ly, a desire for something delicious steals over the souls of boarders, 
particularly on Sundays, between 12, M. and 1, P.M. The eating- 
house revolution had then just begun, and the institution of Dining 
Pown Town was set up ; in fact, a bold man established a Sixpenny 
Dining Saloon in Beekman-street, which was the talk of the shops 
in Ihe winter of 1831. On Sundays Iloracc and his friends, after 
t'icir return from Mr. Sawyer's ("[Jniversalist) church in Orchard- 
itreet, were accustomed to repair to this establishment, and indulge 
7 



98 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. 

In a splendid repast at a cost of, at least, one shilling each, rising 
on some occasions to eighteen pence. Their talk at dinner was of 
the soul-banquet, the sermon, of which they had partaken in the 
morning, and it was a custom among them to ascertain who could 
repeat the substance of it most correctly. Horace attended that 
church regularly, in those days, and listened to the sermon with 
his head bent forward, his eyes upon the floor, his arms folded, and 
one leg swinging, quite in his old class attitude at the "Westhavea 
school. 

This, then, is the substance of what his companions remember 
of Horace Greeley's first few months in the metropolis. In a way 
so homely and so humble, New York's most distinguished citizen, 
the Country's most influential man, began his career. 

In his subsequent writings there are not many allusions of an au- 
tobiographical nature to this period. The following is, indeed, tlie 
only paragraph of the kind that seems worth quoting. It is valu- 
able as throwing light upon the habit of Ms mind at this time : — 

"Fourteen years ago, when the editor of the Tribl'XE came to this city, 
there was published here a small daily paper entitled the ' Sentinel,' devoted 
to the cause of what was called by its own supporters ' the Working Men's 
Party,' and by its opponents ' the Fanny Wright Working Men.' Of that 
party we have little personal knowledge, but at the head of the paper, among 
several good and many objectionable avowals of principle, was borne the fol- 
lowing: 

" ' Single Districts for the choice of each Senator and Member of Assembly.' 
" We gave this proposition some attention at the time, and came to the con- 
clusion that it was alike sound and important. It mattered little to us that it 
was accompanied and surrounded by others that we could not assent to, and 
was propounded by a party with which we had no acquaintance and little syni" 
pathy. We are accustomed to welcome truth, from whatever quarter it may 
approach us, and on whatever flag it may be inscribed. Subsequent experience 
has fully confirmed our original impression, and now we have little doubt that 
this principle, which was utterly slighted when presented under unpopulai 
auspices, will be engrafted on our reformed Constitution without serioos oppo 
ition.'"— Tribune, Dec, 1845. 



CHAPTER VII. 

FnOM OFFICE TO OFFICE. 

(.rsres Wcc'i's— Works on the 'Evening Post'— Story of Mr. Leggetl— ' ComrcerOia! 
Advertiser' — 'Spirit of '.lie Tiroes' — Specimen of his writing at this period — Natu- 
rally fond of the drama — Timothy Wiggins— Worlvs for Mr. Kedfield — The flrsi 
lift. 

Horace Gheelet was a journeyman printer in tliis city for four- 
teen niontlis. Tliose months need not detain us long from the more 
eventful periods of his life. 

He worked for Mr. West in Chatham street till about the first of 
November (1831). Then the business of that office fell off, and he 
was again a. seeker for employment. He obtained a place in the 
office of the 'Evening Post,' whence, it is said, he was soon dis- 
missed by the late Mr. Leggett, on the ground of his sorry appear- 
ance. The story current among printers is this: Mr. Leggett came 
into the printing-office for the purpose of speaking to tlie man whoso 
place Horace Greeley had taken. 

" Where 's Jones ?" asked Mr. Leggett. 

" He 's gone away," replied one of the men. 

" Who lias taken his place, then ?" said the irritable editor. 

" There's the man," said some one, pointing to Horace, who was 
'bobbing' at "the case in his ])eculiar way. 

^[r. Leggett looked at ' the man,' and said to the foreman, " For 
God's sake discharge him, and let's have decent-looking men in the 
office, at least."' 

Horace was accordingly — so goes the story — discharged at the 
end of the week. 

He worked, also, for a few days upon the ' Commercial Adver- 
liser,.' as a ' sub,' probably. Then, for two weeks and a half, upon 
a little paper cailed ' The Amulet,' a weekly journal of literature 
and art. The ' Amulet' was discontinued, and our liero had to wait 
ten years for Lis wages. 

His next step can be given in his own words. The folk mag is 

99 



100 FROM OFFICE TO OFFICE. 

the beginniug of a paragraph iu the New Yorker of Marcli 2d, 
1839: 

" Seven years ago, on the first of January last — that being a holi- 
day, and the writer being then a stranger with few social greetings 
to exchange in New York — he inqiiired hia w^^y into the ill-furnish- 
ed, chill\-, forlurn-looking attic printing-office in Avhich "William T. 
Porter, in company with another very young man, who soon after 
abandoned the enterprise, had just issued the 'Spirit of the Times' 
the first weekly journal devoted entirely to sporting intelligence 
ever attempted in this country. It was a moderate-sized sheet of 
indifferent paper, with an atrocious wood-cut for the head — about 
as uncomely a specimen of the ' fine arts' as our ' native talent' hi\a 
produced. The paper was about in proportion; for neither of its 
conductors had fairly attained his majority, and each was destitute 
of the experience so necessary in such an enterprise, and of the 
funds and extensive acquaintance which were still more necessary 
to its success. But one of them possessed a persevering spirit and 
an ardent enthusiasm for the pursuit to which he had devoted him- 
self." 

And, consequently, the ' Spirit of the Times' still exists and flour- 
ishes, under the proprietorship of its originator and founder, Colonel 
Porter. For this paper, our hero, during his short stay in the office, 
composed a multitude of articles and paragraphs, most of thera 
short and unimportant. As a specimen of his style at this period, 
I copy from the ' Spirit' of May 5th, 1832, the following epistle, 
which was considered extremely funny in those innocent days : 

"2Iesses. Editohs : — Ilear me you shall, pity me you must, while I pro- 
ceed to give a short account of the dread calamities ivhich this vile habit of 
turning the whole city upside down, 'tother side out, and wrong side before, 
on the First of May, has brought down on my devoted head. 

" You must know, that having resided but a few months in your city, I was 
totally ignorant of the existence of said custom. So, on the morning of the 
eventful, and to me disastrous day, I rose, according to immemorial usage, 
at the dying away of the last echo of the breakfast bell, and soon found my- 
self seated over my coffee, and my good landlady exercising her powers of 
volubility (no weak ones) apparently in my behalf; but so deep was the rev- 
erie in which my half-awakened brain was then engaged, that I did not catch 
a single idea from the whole of her discourse. I smiled and said, "YeS; 
ma'am," "certainly ma 'am," at each pause ; and having speedily dL=^patched 



NATURALLY FONH OF THE DRAMA. 101 

my breakfast, sallied immediately out, and proceeded to attend to the busi- 
ness which engrossed my mind. Dinner-time carao, but no time for dinner; 
and it was lato before I was at liberty to wend m}' way, over wbeel-bantws, 
barrels, and all mannerof obstructions, towards my boarding-house. All here 
was still ; but by the help of my night-keys, I soon introduced myself to my 
chamber, dreaming of nothing but sweet repose ; when, horrible to relate ! 
my cars were instantaneously saluted by a most piercing female shriek, f ro- 
ceeding exactly from my own bed, or at least from the place where it should 
have been; and scarcely had sufficient time elapsed for my hair to bristle en 
my bead, before the shriek was answered by the loud vociferations of a, fero- 
cious mastiff in the kitchen beneath, and re-echoed by the outcries of half a 
dozen inmates of the house, and these again succeeded by the rattle of the 
watchman ; and the next moment, there was a round dozen of them (besides 
the dog) at my throat, and commanding me to tell them instantly what the 
devil all this meant. 

" You do well to ask that," said I, as soon as I could speak, '' after falling 
upon me in this fashion in my own chamber." 

" take him off," said the one who assumed to be the master of the 
house ; " perhaps he 's not a thief after all ; but, being too tipsy for starlight, 
he has made a mistake in trying to find his lodgings," — and in spite of all 
my remonstrances, I was forthwith marched off to the watch-house, to pass 
the remainder of the night. In the morning, I narrowly escaped commitment 
on the charge of 'burglary with intent to steal (I verily believe it would have 
gone hard with me if the witnesses could have been got there at that unseason- 
able hour), and I was finally discharged with a solemn admonition to guard 
for the future against intoxication (think of that, sir, for a member of the 
Cold Water Society !) 

" I spent the next day in unraveling the mystery ; and found that my land- 
lord had removed his goods and chattels to another part of the city, on the 
establi.'ihed day, supposing me to be previously acquainted and satisfied with 
his intention of so doing ; and another family had immediately taken hia 
place ; of which changes, my absence of mind and absence from dinner had 
kept me ignorant ; and thus had I been led blindfold into a ' Comedy ' (or 
rather tragedy) of Errors. Your unfortunate, 

"Timothy Wiggins." 

His connection with tlie office o.^ a sporting paper procured hira 
occasipnally an order for admission to a theater, which he used. 
Ho api)eared to have had a natural liking for the drama ; all intel 
ligent persons have when they are young; and one of his coinpau- 
ions of that day remembers well the intense interest with which ha 
once witnc'^ed the performance of Richard III., at tlie old Chat- 



1C2 FROM OFFICE TO OFFICE. 

liam theater. "At the close of the play, he said tliere was aiio^hei 
of Shakespeare's tragedies which he had long wished to see, and 
that was Hamlet. 

Soon after Avriting his letter, the luckless Wiggins, tempted t>y 
the prospect of hetter Avages, left the Spirit of the Times, and went 
back to West's, and worked for some weeks on Prof. Bnsh's Notes 
on Genesis, 'the worst manuscript ever seen in a printing-office. 
That finished, he returned to the Spirit of the Times, and reir.ained 
till October, when he went to visit his relatives in New Bampshire. 
He reached his uncle's farm in Londonderry in the ai)ple-gathering 
season, and going at once to the orchard found his cousins engaged 
in that pleasing exercise. Horace jumped over the fence, saluted 
them in the hearty and unornamental Scotch-Irish style, sprang in- 
to a tree, and assisted them till their task for the day was done, and 
then all the party went frolicking into the woods on a grape-hunt 
Horace was a welcome guest. He was full of fun in those days, 
and kept tlie boys roaring with his stories, or agape with descrip 
tions of city scenes. 

Back to the city again early in ISToveinber, in time and on pur- 
pose to vote at the fall elections. 

He went to work, soon after, for Mr. J. S. Redfield, now an emi- 
nent publisher of this city, then a stereotyper. Mr. Kedfield favors 
'■:■>> with the following note of his connection with Horace Greeley: 
— '' My recollections of Mr. Greeley extend from about the time he 
first came to the city to ^vork as a compositor. I was carrying on 
the stereotyping business in William street, and having occasion one 
day for more compositors, one of the hands hrouglit in Greeley, re- 
marking ' sotto voce' as he introduced him, that he was a "boy- 
ish and rather odd looking genius," (to whicli remark I had no diffi- 
culty in assenting,) ' but he had understood that he was a good 
workman.' Being much in want of help at the time, Greeley was 
cet to work, and I was not a little surprised to find on Saturday 
night, that his bills were much larger than those of any other com- 
positor in tlie office, and oftentimes nearly double those at work by 
the side of him on tlie same work. He would accomplish this, 
too, and talk all the time! The same untiring industry, and the 
>ame fearlessness and independence, Avhich have characterized his 



THE FIRST PENNY PAPER. 103 

coarse as Editor of the New York Tribune, were tlic distiugoisbing 
iVatures of liis cliaracter as a journeyman." 

lie remained in the office of Mr. Redticid till lute in December, 
when the circumstance occurred which gave him his first lift in 
the world. There is a tide, it is said, in the allairs of every man, 
once in his Hfe, which taken at the flood leads on to fortune. 

Horace Greeley's First Lift happened to take place in connection 
with an event of great, world-wide and lasting consequence; jet 
one which has never been narrated to the public. It shall, there- 
fore, have in this work a short chapter to itself. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE FIRST PENNY PAPER — AND "WHO THOUGHT OF IT. 

Importance of the chenp Jaily press — The originator of the idea — History of the idea 
— Dr. Sheppard's Chatham-street cogitations — The Idea is conceived — It is born — 
Interview with Horace Greeley— The Doctor thinks he is 'no common boy'— The 
schemer bafiled— Daily papers twenty-flve years ago — Dr. Sheppard comes to a 
resolution — The firm of Greeley and Story— The Morning Post appears— And fails 
— The sphere of the cheap press — Fanny Fern and the pea-nut merchant. 

"\YnKJf the Historian of the United States sliall have completed 
the work that has occupied so many busy and anxious years, 
and, in the tranquil solitude of his study, he reviews the long series 
of events which he has narrated, the question may arise in hw 
inind, — "Which of the events that occurred during the first seventy 
years of the Republic is likely to exert the greatest and most last> 
ing influence upon its future history ? Surely, he will nut pause 
long for a reply. For, there is one event, which stands out so 
prominently beyond and above all others, the consequences of which, 
to this country and all other countries, must be so immense, and, 
finally, so beneficial, that no other can be seriously placed in com 
petition with it. It was the establishment of the first penny daily 
paper in tlie city of New York in tlie year 1833, Its results, in tliia * 
w^untry, ha^e already been wonderful indeed, and it is destined tc 



i04 THE FIRST PENNY PAPER. 

play a great part in the history of every civilized nation, and in 
that of every nation yet to be civilized. 

Not that Editors are, in all cases, or in most, the wisest of men 
not that editorial writing has a greater value than hasty composition 
in general. Editors are a useful, a laborious, a generous, an honor- 
able class of men and women, and their writings have their duo 
effect. But, that part of the newspaper which interests, awakens, 
moves, warns, inspires, instructs and educates all classes and con- 
ditions of people, the wise and the unwise, the illiterate and the 
learned, is the News ! And the iTews, the same news, at nearly the 
same instant of time, is communicated to all the people of this 
fair and vast domain which we inherit, by the instrumentality 
of the Cheap Press, aided by its allies the Rail and the Wire. 

A catastrophe happens to-day in New York. New Orleans 
shudders to-morrow at the recital ; and the Nation shudders before 
the week ends. A ' Great Word,' uttered on any stump in the 
land, soon illuminates a million minds. A bad deed is perpetrated, 
and the shock of disgust flies Avith electric rapidity from city to 
city, from State to State — from the heart that records it to every 
heart that beats. A gallant deed or a generous one is done, or a 
fruitful idea is suggested, and it falls, like good seed which the 
wind scatters, over all the land at once. Leave the city on a 
day when some stirring news is rife, travel as far and as fast as 
you may, rest not by day nor night; you cannot easily get where 
that News is not, where it is not the theme of general thought and 
talk, where it is not doing its part in informing, or, at least, exciting 
the public mind. Abandon the great lines of travel, go rocking in 
a stage over corduroy roads, through the wilderness, to the newest 
of new villages, a cluster of log-houses, in a field of blackened 
stumps, and even there you must be prompt with your news, or it 
will have flown out from a bundle of newspapers under the driver's 
seat, and fallen in flakes all over the settlement. 

The Cheap Press — its importance cannot be estimated ! It puts 
every mind in direct communication with the greatest minds, which 
ftll, in one way or another, speak through its columns. It brings the 
Course of Events to bear on tlie progress of every individual. It ia 
the great leveler, elevator and deraocraticizer. It makes this huge 
Commonwealth, else so heterogeneous and disunited, think with one 



THE ORIGINATOR OF THE IDEA. 105 

Oiind, feel witli one heart, and talk with one tongue. Dissolve tlia 
CTnion into a hundred petty States, and the Press will still keep ns. 
in heart and soul and liabit, One People. 

Pardon tliis slight digression, dear reader. Pardon it, because 
the beginnings of the greatest things are, in appearance, so insig 
nificant, that unless we look at them in the light of their conse 
qnences, it is impossible to take an interest in thera. 

There are not, T presume, twenty-five persons alive, who know 
tn whose head it was, that the idea of a cheap daily paper origin- 
ated. Nor has the proprietor of that head ever derived from hig 
idea, which has enriched so many others, the smallest pecuniary 
advantage. He walks these streets, this day, an unknown man, and 
poor. His name — the reader may forget it. History will not — is 
Horatio Davis Sheppard. The story of his idea, amply confirmed 
in every particular by living and unimpeachable witnesses, is the 
following : 

About the year 1830, Mr. Sheppard, recently come of age and 
into tlie possession of fifteen hundred dollars, moved from his native 
"JTew Jersey to New York, and entered the Eldridge Street Medical 
School as a student of medicine. He was ambitious and full of 
ideas. Of course, therefore, his fifteen hundred dollars burned in his 
vest pocket — (where he actually used to carry it, until a fellow stu- 
dent almost compelled him to deposit it in a place of safety). He 
took to dabbling in newspapers and periodicals, a method of getting 
rid of superfluous cash, which is as expeditious as it is fascinating. 
He soon had an interest in a medical magazine, and soon after, a 
Bhare in a weekly paper. By the time he had completed his medi- 
cal studies, he had gained some insight into the nature of the news- 
paper business, and lost the greater part of his money. 

People who live in Eldridge street, when they have occasion to 
go 'down to>vn,' must necessarily pass through Chatham street, a 
thoroughfare which is noted, among many other things, for the ex- 
traordinary number of articles which are sold in it for a 'penny a 
piece.' Apiile-stalls, peanut-stalls, stalls for the sale of oranges, 
melons, pine-apples, cocoanuts, chestnuts, aandy, shoe-laces, cakes, 
pocket-combs, ice-cream, suspenders, lemonade, and oysters, line 
(ho sidewalk. In Chatham street, those small trades are carried on, 
on a scale of magnitude, with a loudness of vociferation, and a 



J[06 THE FIRST PENNY PAPER. 

Rare of larap-ligLt, unknown to any other part of the town. Along 
Chatham street, our medical student ofttimes took his way. musing 
OQ the instability of fifteen hundred dollars, and observing, possibly 
envying, the noisy merchants of the stalls. He v/as struck with 
the rapidity with which they sold their penny ware. A small boy 
would sell half a dozen penny cakes in the course of a minute. 
The dif erence between a cent, and no money, did not seem to bo 
appreciated by the people. If a person saw something, wanted it, 
knew the price to be only a cent, he was almost as certain to buy 
it as though it were oflfered him for nothing. Now, thought ho, to 
make a fortune, one has nothing more to do than to produce a 
tempting article which can be sold profitably for a cent, place it 
where everybody can see it, and buy it, without stopping — and lo ! 
the thing is done ! If it were od\j possible to produce a small, spicy 
'laily paper for a cent, and get boys to sell it about the streets, koto 
it would sell ! How many pennies that now go for cakes and pea- 
nuts Avould be spent for news and paragraphs ! 

The idea was born — the twin ideas of the penny paper ana the 
newsboy. But, like the young of the kangaroo, they crawled into 
the mental pouch of the teeming originator, and nestled there for 
months, before they were fully formed and strong enougli to con- 
front the world. 

Perhaps it is possible, continued the musing man of medicine, on 
a subsequent walk in Chatham street. lie went to a paper ware- 
bouse, and made inquiries touching the price of the cheaper kinds 
of printing paper. He figured up the cost of composition. He 
computed office expenses and editorial salaries. He estimated the 
probable circulation of a penny paper, and the probable income to 
be derived from advertising. Surely, he could sell four or five 
thousand a day! There^ for instance, is a group of people ; suppose 
a boy were at this moment to go up to them with an armful of pa- 
psrs, 'only one cent,' I am positive, thought the sanguine projector, 
that six of the nine would buy a copy ! His conclusion was, that 
he could produce a newspaper about twice the size of an average 
sheet of letter-paper, half paragraphs and lialf advertisements, and 
sell it at a cent per copy, with an ample profit to himself. He waa 
mre of it! He had tried all his arithmetic upon the' project, and 
the figures gave the same result always. The twins leape-'' froro 



OAILY PAPERS TWENTV-FIVE YEARS AGO. l{)~^ 

the pouon, and taking tlieir progenitor by the tlii-oat, led Iiiin a fit:a 
danco before lie could shako tlicni otF. For the present, they pes- 
Bessed him wholly. 

As most of his little inheritance had vanislied, it was necessary 
for him to interest some one in the scheme who had either capita. 
or a printing ofTice. The Spirit of the Times was then in its infan- 
cy. To the office of that paper, where Horace Greeley was then a 
journeyman, Mr. Sheppard first directed his steps, and there ha 
first unfolded his plans and exhibited liis calculations. Mr. Greeley 
was not present on his first entrance. He came in soon after, and 
began telling in high glee a story he had picked up of old Isaac Hill, 
who used to read his speeches in the House, and one day brought the 
wrong speech, and got upon his legs, and half way into a swelling ex- 
ordium before he discovered his mistake. The narrator told his sto- 
r}' extremely well, taking off the embarrassment of the old gentleman 
as he gradually came to the knowledge of his misfortune, to the life. 
The company were highly amused, and Mr. Sheppard said to him- 
self, "That's no common ioij.'" Perhaps it was an unfortunate mo- 
ment to introduce a bold and novel idea; but it is certain that every 
individual present, from the editor to the devil, regarded the notion 
of a penny paper as one of extreme absurdity, — foolish, ridiculous, 
frivolous! They took it as a joke, and the schemer took nis 
leave. 

Nor is it at all surprising that ihey should have regarded ic in 
that light. A daily newspaper in those days was a solemn thing. 
People in moderate circumstances seldom saw, never bought one. 
The price was ten dollars a year. Cut the present Journal of Com- 
merce in halves, fold it, fancy on its second page half a column of 
serious editorial, a column of news, h;df a column of business and 
shipping intelligence, and the rest of the ample slieet covered with 
advertisements, and you have before your mind's eye tlie New York 
daily paper of twenty-five years ago. It "\'as not a thing for the 
people ; it appertained to the counting-house; it was taken by the 
wholesale dealer; it was cumbrous, heavy, solemn. The idea of 
making it an article to be cried about the streets, to be sold for a 
cent, to be bought by workingmen and boys, to come into competi- 
tion with cakes and apples, must have seemed to the respectable 
New Yorkers of 1831, unspeakably absurd. AYhen the rcspectabla 



108 



THE FIRST PEKXT PAPER. 



New Yorker first saw a penny paper, he gazed at it (T saw him) 
with a feeling similar to that with which an ill-natured man may 
be supposed to regard General Tom Thumb, a feeling of mingled 
curiosity and contempt ; he put the ridiculous little thing into his 
waistcoat pocket to carry home for the amusement of his family ; 
and he wondered what nonsense would be perpetrated next. 

Dr. Slieppard — he had now taken Ids degree — was not disheart- 
ened by the merry reception of his idea at the officeof the Spirit of the 
Times, lie went to other ofBces — to nearly etcry other office ! For 
eighteen months it Avas his castora, whenever opportunity offered, 
to expound his project to printers and editors, and, in fact, to any 
one who -would listen to him long enough. He could not convince 
one man of the feasibility of his scheme^ — not one! A few people 
thought it a good idea for the insti'uction of the million, and recom- 
mended him to get some society to take hold of it. But not a 
human being could be brought to believe that it would pay as a 
business, and only a few of the more polite and complaisant printers 
could be induced to consider the subject in a serious light at all. 

Eeader, possessed with an Idea, reader, 'in a minority of one,' 
take courage from the fact. 

Despairing of getting the assistance he required, Dr. Sheppard 
resolved, at length, to make a desperate effort to start the paper 
himself. His means were fifty dollars in cash and a promise of 
credit for two hundred dollars' worth of paper. Among his 
printer friends was Mr. Francis Story, the foreman of the Spirit 
of the Times office, who, about that time, was watching for 
an opportunity to get into business on his own account. To him 
Dr. Sheppard announced his intention, and pi-oposed that he should 
establish an office and print the forthcoming paper, offering to pay 
the bill for composition every Saturday. Mr. Story hesitated; but, 
)n obtaining from Mr. Sylvester a promise of the [irinling of bis 
Banh Kate Reporter^ he embraced Dr. Sheppard's proposal, and 
offered Horace Greelej', for whom he had long entertained a warm 
friendship and a great admiration, an equal share in the enterprise, 
Horace was not favorably impressed with Dr. Sheppard's scheme. 
In the first place, he had no great faith in the practical ability ot 
that gentleman ; and, secondly, he was of opinion that the smallest 
price for which adaily pa]rer could be profitah'.v sold was two cents. 



THE FIRM OF GREELEY AND STORT. 109 

His arguments on the latter point did not convince tlie ardent doo« 
tor; but, with the liope of overcoming his scruples and enlisting 
his co-operation, he consented to give up his darling idea, and tix 
the i)rice of his paper at two cents, Horace Greeley agreed, at 
length, to try his fortune as a master printer, and in December, the 
firm of Greeley and Story was formed. 

Now, experience has since proved that two cents is the best price 
for a cheap paper. But the point, tlie charm, the impudence of Dr. 
Sheppard's project all lay in those 7niigical words, 'Price Onb 
Cent,' which his paper was to have borne on its heading — but did 
not. And tlie capital to be invested in the enterprise was so ludi- 
crously inadequate, that it was necessary for the paper to pay at once, 
or cease to appear. Horace Greeley's advice, therefore, though good 
as a general principle, was not applicable to the case in hand. Not 
that the proposed paper would, or could, have succeeded upon any 
terras. Its failure was inevitable. Dr. Sheppard is one of those 
projectors who have the faculty of suggesting the most valuable and 
fruitful ideas, without possessing, in any degree, the qualities need- 
ful for their realization. 

The united capital of the two printers was about one hundred and 
fifty dollars. They were both, however, highly respected in the print- 
ing world, and both had friends among those whose operations keep 
that world in motion. They hired part of a small office at No. 54 
Liberty street. Horace Greeley's candid story prevailed with Mr. 
George Bruce, the great type founder, so far, that he gave the new 
firm credit for a small quantity of type — an act of trust and kindness 
which secured him one of the best customers he Itas ever had. (To 
this day the type of the Tribune is supplied by Mr. Bruce.) Before 
the new year dawned, Greeley and Story were ready to execute 
every job of printing which was not too extensive or intricate, on 
favoraljie terms, and with the utmost punctuality and dispatch. 

On tlie morning of January 1st, 1833, the Morxixg Post, and a 
snow-storm of almost unexampled fury, came upon the town together. 
The snow was a wet blanket upon the hopes of newsboys and car- 
riers, and quite deadened the noise of the new paper, filling up 
areas, and burying the tiny sheet at the doors of its few subscribers. 
For several days the streets were obstructed with snow. It was 
very col(?. There were few people in the streets, and those few 



110 THE FIRST PENNY PAPER. 

were not easily tempted to stop and fumble in their pockets for two 
cents. The newsboys were soon discouraged, and were fain to run 
shivering home. Dr. Sheppard was wholly unacquainted with the 
details of editorship, and most of the labor of getting up the num- 
bers fell npon Mr. Greeley, and they were produced under eveiy 
conceivable disadvantage. Yet, with all these misfortunes and 
drawbacks, several hundred copies were daily sold, and Dr. Shei)- 
pard was able to pay all the expenses of the first week. On tiie 
second Saturday, however, he paid his printers half in money and 
half in promises. On the third day of the third week, the faith 
a.nd the patience of Messrs. Greeley and Story gave out, and the 
'Morning Post' ceased to exist. 

The last two days of its short life it was sold for a cent, and the 
readiness with which it was purchased convinced Dr. Sheppard, 
but him alone, that if it had been started at that price, it would not 
have been a failure. His money and his credit were both gone, 
and the error could not be retrieved. He' could not even pay his 
printers the residue of their account, and he had, in consequence, 
to endure some emphatic observations from Mr. Story on the mad- 
ness and presumption of his scheme. " Did n't I tell you so ?" said 
the other printers. " Everybody," says Dr. Sheppard, " abused me, 
except Horace Greeley. He spoke very kindly, and told me not to 
mind what Story said." The doctor, thenceforth, washed his 
hands of printers' ink, and entered upon the practice of his pro- 
fession. 

Nine months after, the Sun appeared, a penny paper, a dingy 
sheet a little larger than a sheet of letter paper. Its success demon- 
strated the correctness of Dr. Sheppard's calculations, and justified 
the enthusiasm with which he had pursued his Idea. Tlie office 
from which the Sun was issued was one of the last which Dr. 
Sheppard had visited for the purpose of enlisting co-operation. 
Neither of the proprietors was present, but the ardent schemer ex- 
pounded his plans to a journeyman, and thus planted the seed which, 
in September, produced fruit in the form of the Sun, which 'shinea 
for all.' 

This morning, the cheap daily press of this city has issued a hun- 
dred and fifty thousand sheets, the best of which contain a history 
of the world for one day, so completely given, so intelligently com 



FANNY FERN AND THE PEA-IS-UT MERCHANT. HI 

mented apon, as to place the New York Press at tlie liead of tlie 
journalism of the world. The Cheap Press, be it observed, had^ 
first of all, to create itself^ and, secondl}-, to create its Puhlic. The 
papers of the old school have gone on their way prospering. They 
are read by the class that read thcin formerly. But — mark that 
long line of hackmen, each seated on his box waiting for a customer, 
and frtcA reading his morning pa jKr ! Observe the paper that is 
thrust into the pocket of the omnibus driver. Look into shops and 
factories at the dinner hour, and note how many of the men are 
reading their newspaper as they eat their dinner. All tliis is new. 
All this has resulted from the Chatham-street cogitations of Hora- 
tio Davis Sheppard. 

A distinguished authoress of this city relates the following cir- 
cumstance, which occurred last summer : 

THE MAN Wno DOES TAKE THE PAPER. 

To the Editor of The X. Y. Tribune. 

Sir : — Not long since I read in your paper an article headed " the man 
who never took a newspaper." In contrast to this I would relate to you a 
little incident which came under my own observation : 

Having been disappointed the other morning in receiving that part of my 
breakfast contained in The N. Y. Daily Tribune, I dispatched a messenger 
to see what could be done in the way of satisfaction. After half an hour's 
diligent search he returned, much to my chagrin, empty-handed. Recollecting 
an old copy set me at school after this wise : '" If j'ou want a thing done do it 
j-oursclf," I seized my bonnet and sallied forth. Not far from my domicil 
appears each morning, with the rising sun, an old huckster-man, whose stock 
in trade consists of two empty barrels, across which i.s thrown a pro tern 
counter in the shape of a plank, a pint of pea-nuts, six sticks of peppermint 
candy, half a dozen choleric looking pears and apples, copies of the daily 
papers, and an old stubby broom, with which the owner carefully brushes up 
the nut-shells dropped by graceless urchins to the endangerment of his side- 
walk lease. 

"Have j-ou this morning's Tribune?" said I, looking as amiable as I 
knew how. 

" No ilfa'am," was the decided reply. 

" Why — yes, you have," said I, laying my hand on the desired number. 

"Well, you carCt have that, Ma'am," said the disconcerted peanut me? 
jhant, "for I haven't read it myself!" 

" I '11 give you three cents for it," said I. 



112 THE FIRM CONTINUES. 

(A sLaks of the head.) 

" Four cents ?" 

(Another shake.) 

"Sixpence V (I was getting excited.) 

"It's no use, Ma'am," said the persistent old fellow. "It 's the only num- 
ber I could get, and I tell jou that nobody shall have that Tribune till I have 
read it myself !" 

You should have seen, Mr. Editor, the shapeless hat, the mosaic coat, the 
tattered vest, and the extraordinary pair of trousers that were educated up 
to that Tribune — it was a picture ! Fanny Fehn. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE FIRM CONTINUES 

Lottery printing — The Constitutionalist— Dudley S. Gregory — The lottery suicide— 
The firm prospers — Sudden death of Mr. Story — A new partner — Mr. Greeley as a 
master — A dinner story — Sylvester Graham— Horace Greeley at the Graham 
House — The New Yorker projected— James Gordon Bennett. 

The firm of Greeley and Story was not seriously injured by tht 
failure of the Morning Post. They stopped printing it in time, and 
their loss was not more than fifty or sixty dollars. Meanwhile, 
their main stay was Sylvester's Bank Note Reporter, which yielded 
about fifteen dollars' worth of composition a week, payment for which 
was sure and regular. In a few weeks Mr. Story was fortunate 
enough to procure a considerable quantity of lottery printing. This 
was profitable work, and the firm, thenceforth, paid particular at- 
tention to that branch of business, and our hero acquired great dex- 
terity in setting up and arranging the list of prizes and drawings. 

Among other things, they had, for some time, the printing of a 
small tri-weekly paper called the Constitutionalist^ which was the 
organ of the great lottery dealers, and the vehicle of lottery news, a 
small, dingy quarto of four pages, of which one page only wa? 
devoted to reading matter, the rest being occupied by lolier^' 
tables and advertisements. The heading of this interesting peri 



DUDLEV S. GREGOKY. 113 

odScaT was as follows: " The Coxstitutioxalist, Wilminglon, Dela- 
ware. Devoteil to the Interests of Literature, Internal Improve* 
meut, Common Schools, &c., &c." The last half square of the last 
column of the Constitutionalist's last page contained a standing 
advertisement, which read thus: — 

" Greeley and Story, No. 54 Liberty-street, New York, respectfully 
solicit the patronage of the public to their business of Letter-Presa 
Printing, particularly Lottery Printing, such as schemes, periodicals, 
&c., which will be executed on favorable terms." 

Horace Greele}', who had by this time become an inveterate 
paragraphist, and was scribbler-general to the circle in which he 
moved, did not disdain to contribute to the first page of the Con- 
stitutionalist. The only set of the paper which has been preserved 
1 have examined ; and though many short articles are pointed out 
by its proprietor, as written by Mr. Greeley, I find none of the 
slightest present interest, and none which throw any light upon 
his feelings, thoughts or habits, at the time when they were writ- 
ten. He wrote well enough, however, to impress his friends with 
a high idea of his talent ; and his prompt fidelity in all his transac- 
tions, at this period, secured him one friend, who, in addition to a 
host of other good qualities, chanced to be the possessor, or wielder, 
of extensive means. This friend, at various subsequent crises of 
our hero's life, proved to be a friend indeed, because a friend in 
need. They sat together, long after, the printer and the patron, in 
the representative's hall at Washington, as members of the thirtieth 
Congress. "Why shall I not adorn this page by writing on it the 
name of the kindly, the munificent Dudley S. Gregory, to whose 
wise generosity, Jei'sey City, and Jersey citizens, owe so much ; in 
whose hands large possessions are far more a public than a private 
good ? 

Mr. Gregory was, in 1833, the agent or manager of a great lottery 
association, and he had much to do with arranging the tables and 
schemes published in the Constitutionalist. Tliis brought him in 
contact with the senior member of the firm of Greeley and Story, 
.,0 whose talents his attention was soon called by a particular circum- 
stance. A young man, who had lost all his property by the lot- 
tery, in a moment of desperation committed suicide. A great hue 
and cry arose all over the country against lotteries ; and many 
8 



il4 THE FIRM CONTINUES. 

newspapers cliniorec] for tlieir suppression by law. The lottery 
dealers were alarmed. In the midst of this excitement, Horace 
Greeley, while standing at tlie case, composed an article on the* 
subject, the purport of Avhich is said to have been, that the argu- 
ment for and against lotteries was not affected by the suicide of that 
young man ; but it simply proved, that he, the suicide, was a per- 
son of weak character, and had nothing to do with the questiv u 
Avhetlier the State ought, or ought not, to license lotteries. Tl is 
article was inserted in one of the lottery papers, attracted considir- 
able attention, and made Mr. Gregory aware that his printer ■« is 
not an ordinary man. Soon after, Mr. Greeley changed his op a- 
ion on the subject of lotteries, and advocated their suppressi m 
by law. 

Greeley and Story were now prosperous printers. Their busing is 
steadily increased, and they began to accumulate capital. The ter n 
of their copartnership, however, was short. The great dissolver ( f 
partnerships. King Death himself, dissolved theirs in the seven -h 
month of its existence. On the 9th of July, Francis Story wfe it 
down the bay on an excursion, and never returned alive. lie av;,s 
drowned by the upsetting of a boat, and his body was brought bark 
to the city the same evening. There had existed between the.'.e 
young partners a warm friendship. Mr. Story's admiration of the 
character and talents of our hero amounted to enthusiasm ; and 
he, on his part, could not but love the man who so loved him. When 
he went up to the coflBn to look for the last time on the marble 
features that liad never turned to his with an unkind expression, he 
said, " Poor Story ! shall I ever meet with any one who will bear 
¥ith me as he did?" To the bereaved family Horace Greeley be- 
haved with the most scrupulous justice, sending Mr. Story's mother 
half of all the little outstanding accounts as soon as they were paid, 
and receiving into the vacant place a brother-in-law of his deceased 
partner, Mr. Jonas "Winchester, a gentleman now well known to the 
press and the people of this country. 

A short time before, he had witnessed the marriage of Mr. Win- 
chester by the Episcopal form. He was deeply impressed with the 
ceremony, listening to it in an attitude expressive of the profoundest 
interest; and when it was over, he exclaimed aloud, "That's the 



SYLVESTER GRAHAM. 115 

roost beautiful service I ever saw. Il' ever I am married it shall be 
by tliat form." 

The business of "Greeley and Co." went on prospering through 
the year; but increase of means made not tlie sliglitest difference 
in our liero's habits or appearance. Ilis inditference to dress was 
a chronic complaint, and the ladies of his partner's family tried in 
vain to coax and laugh him into a conft)rmity -with the usages of 
tiiciety. Tliey liardly succeeded in inducing him to keep his shirt 
buttoned over liis white bosom. " He was always a clean man, you 
know,'* says one of tliem. There was not even the show or pre- 
tence of discipline in the office. One .of the journeymen made an 
outrageous caricature of his employer, and showed it to him one 
day as he came from dinner. ""Who's that?" asked the man. 
"Tliat 's me," said the master, witli a smile, and passed in to his 
work. The men made a point of appearing to differ in opinion from 
Jiim on every subject, because they liked to hear him talk ; and, 
one day, after a long debate, he exclaimed, " Why, men, if I were 
to say that that black man there was black, you 'd all swear he was 
white." He worked with all his former intensity and absorption. 
Often, such conversations as these took place in the office about the 
middle of the day : 

(H. G., looking up from his work)— Jonas, have I been to dinner? 

(Mr. Wincliester)— You ouglit to know best. I do n't know 

(H. G.) — John, have I been to dinner? 

(Jolm) — 1 believe not. Has he, Tom ? 

To which Tom would reply 'no,' or 'yes,' according to his own 
recollection or John's wink; and if the office generally concurred in 
Tom's decision, Horace would eitiier go to dinner or resume his 
work, in unsuspecting accordance therewiili. 

It was about this time that lie embraced the first of his two 
" isms" (he has never had but two). Graham arose and lectured, 
and made a noise in tlie worhl, and obtained followers. The sub- 
stance of his message was tliat We, tlie people of the United States, 
are in the liabit of taking our food in too concentrated a form. 
Bulk is necessary as well as nutriment; brown bread is better 
tiian white; and meat should be eaten only once a day, or never, 
said the Ilev. Dr. Graliam. Stimulants, he added, were pernicious, 
and iLcir apparent necessity arises solely from too concentrated, and 



ilG THE FIRM CONTINUES. 

therefore indigestible food. A simple message, and one mo:it o'jvi 
ously true. Tlie wonder is, not that he should have obtainf d fol- 
lowers, but that there should have been found one human heirg so 
besottedly ignorant and so incapable of being instructed aa tc denj 
the truth of his leading principles. Graham was a remarkable man. 
He was one of those whom nature has gifted with the power of 
taking an interest in human welfare. He was a discoverer of the 
facts, that most of us are sick, and that none of us need be; thai 
disease is impious and disgraceful, the result, in almost every in- 
stance, of folly or crime. lie exonerated God from the aspersions 
cast upon His wisdom and gpodness by those who attribute disease 
to ^is" mysterious dispensations," and laid all the blame and shame 
of the ills that flesh endures at the door of those who endure them. 
Graham was one of the two or three men to whom this nation 
might, with some propriety, erect a monument. Some day, perhaps, 
a man will take the trouble to read Graham's two tough and wordy 
volumes, and present the substance of them to the public iu a form 
which will not repel, but win the reader to perusal and convic- 
tion. 

Horace Greele}-, like every other thinking person that heard Dr. 
Graham lecture, was convinced that upon the whole he was riglit. 
He abandoned the use of stimulants, and took care in selecting his 
food, to see that there was the proper proportion between its bulk 
and its nutriment ; i. e. he ate Graham bread, little meat, and plen- 
ty of rice, Indian meal, vegetables and fruit. He went, after a time, 
to board at the Graham bouse, a hotel conducted, as its name im- 
ported, on Graham principles, the rules and regulations having 
been written by Dr. Graham himself. The first time our friend ap- 
peared at the table of tlie Graham House, a silly w-omaa Avho lived 
there tried her sp^all wit upon him. 

" It 's lucky," said she to the landlady, " that you 've no cat in 
the house." 

" Why ?" asked the landlady. 

"Because," was the killi:}g reply, " if you had, the cat would cer- 
tainly take that man with the white head for a gosling, and fly a* 
him." 

Gentlemen who boarded with him at the Graham House, remem- 
ber him as a Portentious Anomaly, one who, on ordinary occasions, 



EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 117 

sakl nothing, but was occasionally roused to most veliement argu 
meut ; a man much given to reading and cold-water baths. 

In tlie hogiiining of the year 1834:, the dream of editorship re- 
vived in the soul of Horace Greeley. A project for starting a week- 
ly paper began to be agitated in the office. The firm, which then 
consisted of three members, H. Greeley, Jonas Winchester, and E. 
Sibbett, considered itself worth three thousand dollars, and was fu:- 
iher of opinion, that it contained within itself an amount of edito- 
lial talent sufficient to originate and conduct a family paper supe- 
rior to any then existing. The firm was correct in both opinions, 
and the result was — the New Yorker. 

An incident connected with the job office of Greeley & Co. is, 
perhaps, worth mentioning here. One James Gordon Bennett, a 
person then well known as a smart writer for the press, came to 
Horace Greeley, and exhibiting a fifty-dollar bill and some other 
notes of smaller denomination as his cash capital, invited him to 
join in setting up a new daily paper, the New York Herald. Our 
hero declined the offer, but recommended James Gordon to apply 
to another printer, naming one, who he thought would like to 
share in such an enterprise. To him the editor of the Herald did 
apply, and with success. The Herald appeared soon after, under 
the joint proprietorship of Bennett and the printer alluded to. Up- 
on the subsequent burning of the Herald office, the partners sepa- 
rated, and the Herald was thenceforth conducted by Bennett alone. 



CHAPTER X. 

EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

CV aracle' of Iha Paper — lis Early Fortunes— Happiness of the Editor— Scene in the Of- 
flce — Specimens of Horace Greeley's Poetry- Subjects of his Essays— His Opinions 
then — His Marriage — The Silk-stoclcing Story — A day in VVaahinglon— {lis impress- 
inns of the Senate — Pecuniary difTiculties— Causes of the New-Yorlicr's ill-succesa 
us a Business — The missing letters— The Editor gels a nickname — The Agonies 
of a Debtor— Park Benjamin — Henry J. Raymond. 

Luckily for the purposes of the present writer, Mr. Greeley is 
the most autobiographical of editors. He takes his readers into his 



118 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

confidence, liis sanctum, and his iron safe. He has not the least ob 
jection to tell the public the number of his subscribers, the amount 
of his receipts, the excess of his receipts over liis expenditures, oi 
the excess of his expenditures over his receipts. Accordingly, the 
Avhole history of the New Yorker, and the story of its editor's joys 
and sorrows, his trials and his triumphs, lie plainly uid fully writr 
ten in the New Yorker itself. 

The New Yorker was, incomparably, the best newspaper of its 
kind that had ever been published in this country. It was printed, 
at first, upon a large folio sheet; afterwards, in two forms, folio and 
quarto, the former at two dollars a year, the latter at three. Its 
contents were of four kinds ; literary matter, selected from home 
and foreign periodicals, and well selected ; editorial articles by the 
editor, vigorously and courteously expressed ; news, chiefly politi- 
cal, compiled with an accuracy new to American journalism ; city, 
literary, and miscellaneous paragraphs. The paper took no side in 
politics, though the ardent convictions of the editor were occasior. 
ally manifest, in spite of himself. The heat and fury of some of 
his later writings never characterize the essays of the New Torker. 
lie was always gentle, however strong and decided; and there was 
a modesty and candor in his manner of writing that made the sub- 
scriber a friend. For example,, in the very first number, announc- 
ing the publication of certain mathematical books, he says, " As wo 
are not ourselves conversant with the higher branches of mathemat- 
ics, we cannot pretend to speak authoritatively upon the merits of 
these publications" — a kind of avowal which omniscient ediiurs are 
not prone to make. 

A paper, that lived long, never stole into existence more quietly 
than the New Yorker. Fifteen of the personal friends of the edi- 
tors had promised to become subscribers ; and Avhen, on the 22d ot 
March, 1834, the first number appeared, it sold to the extent of one 
hundred copies. No wonder. Neither of the proprietors had any 
reputation Avith the public ; all of them were very young, and the 
editor evidently supposed that it was only necessary to make a good 
paper in order to sell a great many copies. The ' Publishers' Ad 
dress,' indeed, expressly said : — 

" There is one disadvantage attending our cfe6zi^ which is seldom cncouu 



6CENK IN THE OFFICE. 119 

cored in the outset of periodicals aipiring to geucral popularity and patron 
nge. Ours is not blazoned through the land as, 'The Cheapest Periodical in 
the World,' 'The Largest Paper ever Published,' or any of the captivating 
clap-traps wherewith enterprising gentlemen, possessed of a convenient stock 
of assurance, are wont to usher in their successive experiments on the gulli- 
bility of the Public. No likenesses of eminent and favorite authors will em- 
bellish our title, while they disdain to write for our columns. No ' distin- 
guished literary and fashionable characters' have been dragged in to bolste* 
up a rigmarole of preposterous and charlatan pretensions. And indeed s« 
serious is this deficiency, that the first (we may say the only) objection which 
has been started by our most judicious friends in the discussion of our plans 
vnd prospects, has invariably been this : — ' You do not indulge sufiiciently in 
high-sounding pretensions. You cannot succeed without humbug.' Our an- 
swer has constantly been : — ' We shall try' and in the spirit of this deter- 
mination, we respectfully solicit of our fellow-citizens the extension of that 
share of patronnge which they shall deem warranted by our performances 
rather than our promises." 

The public took tlie New Yorker at its word. The second num- 
ber had a sale of nearly two hundred copies, and for three months, 
the increase averaged a hundred copies a week. In September, the 
circulation was 2,500 ; and the second volume began with 4,500. 
During the first year, three liundred papers gave tlie New Yorker 
a eulogistic notice. The editor became, at once, a person known 
and valued throughout the Unio.i. He enjoyed his position thor- 
oughly, and he labored not more truly with all his might, than with 
all his heart. 

The spirit in wliicli he performed his duties, and the glee with 
which he entered into the comicalities of editorial life, cannot be 
more agreeably shown than by transcribing his own account of a 
Scene which was enacted in the office of the New Yorker, soon 
nfter its establishment. The article was entitled 'Editorial Lux- 



We love not the ways of that numerous class of malcontents who are per- 
petually finding fault with their vocation, and endeavoring to prove them- 
selves the mcst miserable dogs in existence. If they really think so, why 
under the sun do they not abandon their present evil ways and endeavor to 
hit upon something more endurable 1 Nor do wo not deem these grumbleri 
more plentiful among the brethren of the quill than in other professions, sim 
ply because the groanings uttered through the press are more widely circu 



120 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

lated than A-hen merely breathed to the night-air of some unsympathlBing 
friend who forgets all about them the next minute ; but we do think the whole 
business is in most ridiculously bad taste. An Apostle teaches us of " groanings 
which cannot be uttered" — it would be a great relief to readers, if editoriii. 
groanings were of this sort. Now, we pride ourselves rather on the delight* 
of our profession ; and we rejoice to say, that we find them neither few nuj 
inconsiderable. There is one which even now flitted across our path, whichs 
to tell the truth, was rather above the average — in fact, so good, that we can 
not afford to monopolize it, even though we shall bo constrained to allow oui 
reader a peep behind the curtain. So, here it is: 

[Scene. Editorial Sanctum — Editor solus — i. e. immersed in thought and 
newspapers, with a journal in one hand and busily spoiling white papsr with 
the other — only two particular friends talking to him at each elbow. Devil 
calls for 'copy' at momentary intervals. Enter a butternut-colored gentle- 
man, who bows most emphatically.] 

Gent. Are you the editor of the New Yorker, sir"? 

Editor. The same, sir, at j'our service. 

Gent. Did you write this, sirl 

Editor. Takes his scissored extract and reads — ' So, when we hear the 
brazen vender of quack remedies boldly trumpeting his miraculous cures, or 
the announcement of the equally impudent experimenter on public credulity 
(Goicard) who announces, that he 'teaches music in six lessons, and half a 
dozen distinct branches of science in as many weeks,' we may be grieved, and 
even indignant, that such palpable deceptions of the simple and unwary should 
not be discountenanced and exposed.' 

That reads like me, sir. I do not remember the passage ; but if you found 
i"; in the editorial columns of the New Yorker, I certainly did write it. 

Gent. It was in No. 15. " The March of Humbug." 

Editor. Ah ! now I recollect it — there is no mistake in my writing that 
article. 

Gent. Did you allude to me, sir, in those remarks'? 

Editor. You will perceive that the name ' Goward^ has been introduced 
by yourself — there is nothing of the kind in my paper. 

Gent. Yes, sir ; but I wish to know whether you intended those remarks to 
apply to me. 

Editor. Well, sir, without pretending to recollect exactly what I may have 
been thinking of while writing an article three months ago, I will frankly say, 
that I think I must have had you in my eye while penning that paragraph. 

Gent. Well, sir. do you know that such remarks are grossly unjust and im 
pertinent to me 1 

Ed. tor. I know nothing of you, sir, but from the testimony of friends ana 
your own advertisements in the papers— and these combine to assure mo 
that J ou are a quack. 



HORACE Greeley's poetrt. 121 

Genl. That is what my enemies say, sir; but if you examine my certl- 
fteates, sir, you will know the contrary. 

Editor. I am open to conviction, sir. 

Gent. Well, sir, I have been advertising in the Traveler for some time, 
and have paid them a great deal of money, and here they come out this week 
and abuse nic — so, I have done with them ; and, now, if you will say you will 
not attack me in this fashion, I will patronize you (holding out some tempt- 
ing advertisements). 

Editor. Well, sir, I shall bo very happy to advertise for you; but I can 
give no pledge as to the course I shall feel bound to pursue. 

Gent. Then, I suppose you will continue to call me a quack 

Editor. I do not know that I am accustomed to attack my friends and 
patrons ; but if I have occasion to speak of you at all, it shall be in such 
terms as my best judgment shall dictate. 

Gent. Then, I am to understand you as my enemy. 

Editor. Understand me as you please, sir ; I shall endeavor to treat you 
and all men with fairness. 

Gent. But do you suppose I am going to pay money to those who ridicule 
me and hold me up as a quack 1 

"Editor. You will pay it where you please, sir — I must enjoy my opinions. 

Gent. Well, but is a man to be judged by what his enemies say of him 9 
Every man has his enemies. 

Editor. I hope not, sir ; I trust I have not an enemy in the world. 

Gent. Tes, you have — / 'm your enemy '. — and the enemy of every one who 
misrepresents mc. I can get no justice from the press, except among the 
penny dailies. I '11 start a paper myself before a year. I '11 show that 
Eome folks can edit newspapers as well as others. 

Editor. The field is open, sir, — go ahead. 

[Exit in a rage. Rev. J. R. Goward, A. M., Teacher 
(in sis lessons) of everything.] 

Another proof of the happiness of the early days of our hero's 
editorial career might be found in the habit he then had of writing 
verses. It will, perhaps, surprise some of his present readers, who 
know him only as one of the most practical of writers, 3ne given 
to politics, sub-soil plows, and other subjects supposed to be unpo- 
ctical, to learn that he was in early life a very frequent, and by no 
means altogether unsuccessful poetizer. Many of the early numbers 
of the New-Yorker contain a poem by " 11. G." He has published, 
in all, about thirty-five poems, of which the New-Yorker containa 
twenty ; the rest may be found in the Southern Literary Messenger, 
and various other magazines, annuals, and occasional volumes. 1 



122 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

have seen no poem of his which does not contain the material of 
poetry — thought, feehng, fancy; but in few of them was the poet 
enabled to give liis thought, feeling and fancy compjlete expression. 
A specimen or two of his poetry it would be an unpardonable omis- 
sion not to give, in a volume like this, particularly as his poetio 
period is past. 

The following is a tribute to the memory of one who was the ideal 
hero of his youtliful politics. It was published in the first numboi 
of the New-Yorker: 

ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM WIRT. 

Rouse not the mufiled drum. 
Wake not tlie martial trumpet's mournful sound 

For him whose miglity voice in death is dimb ; 
Who, in the zenith of his high renown, 

To the grave went down. 

Invoke no cannon's breath 
To swell the requiem o'er his ashes poured — 
SUently bear him to tlie house of death: — 
The aching hearts by wliom he was adored, 
He won not with the sword. 

No ! let affection's tear 
Be the sole tribute to his memory paid ; 
Earth has no monument so justly dear 
To souls like his in purity arrayed — 

Never to fade. 

I loved thee, patriot Chief! 
I battled proudly 'neath thy banner pure ; 

Mine is the breast of woe — the heart of griefj 
Which suffer on unmindful of a cure — 
Proud to endure. 

But vain the voice of wail 
For thee, from this dim vale of sorrow fled — 



NEBO'S TOMD. 123 

Earth has no spell whose magic shall not full 
To light the plooin that shrouds thy narrow bed, 
Or xoo thee from the dead. 

Then take thy long repose 
Beneath the shelter of the deep green sod : 

Death but a brighter halo o'er thee throws — 
Thy fame, thy soul alike have spurned the clod- 
Rest thee in God. 

A series of poems, entitled " Uistorlc Pencilings," appear in the 
first volume of the New Yorker, over the initials " H. G." These 
were the poetized reminiscences of his boyish historical reading. Of 
these poems the following is, perhaps, the most pl-^asLug and char- 
acteristic : 

NEPwO'S TOMB. 

"■WTien Nero pcrislied by the mstest doom, 

***** 
Some hand anseen strewed flowers upon hia grave. 



Br RON'. 



The tyrant slept in death ; 
His long career of blood had ceased forever, 

And but an empire's execrating breath 
Kemained to tell of crimes exampled never. 

Alone remained ? Ah ! no ; 
Rome's scathed and blackened walls retold the story 

Of conflagrations broad and baleful glow. 
Such was the halo of the despot's glory ! 

And round his gilded tomb 
Came crowds of sufferers— but not to weep — • 

Not theirs the wish to light the house of gloora 
With sympathy. No ! Curses wild and deep 

His only requiem made. 
But soft ! see, strewed around his dreamless bed 

The trophies bright of many a verdant glade, 
The living's tribute to the honored dead 



12-4 EDITOR OF THE NEW TORKER. 

"What mean those gentle flowers ? 

So sweetly smiling in the face of wrath- 
Children of genial suns and fostering sliowers. 

Now cruslied and trampled in the million's path— 
What do they, withering here ? 

Ah ! spurn them not ? they tell of sorrow's flow — 
There has been one to shed affection's tear, 

And 'mid a nation's joy, to feel a pang of woe ! 

No ! scorn them not, those flowers. 
They speak too deeply to each feeling heart — 

They tell that Guilt hath still its holier hours — 
That none may e 'er from earth unmourned depart ; 

That none hath all effaced 
The spell of Eden o 'er his spirit cast. 

The heavenly image in his features traced — 
Or quenched the love unchanging to the last I 

Another of the ' Historic Pencilings,' was on the ' Death of Per- 
icles.' This was its last stanza : — 

No ! let the brutal conqueror 

Still glut his soul with war, 
And let the ignoble million 

With sliouts surround his car; 
But dearer far the lasting fame 

Which twines its wreaths with peace — 
Give me the tearless memory 

Of the mighty one of Greece. 

Only one of his poems seems to have been inspired by the ten- 
der passion. It is dated May 81st, 1834. Who this bright Vision 
was to whom the poem was addressed, or whether it was ever vis 
ible to any but the poet's eye, has not transpired. 

FANTASIES. 

They deem me cold, the thoughtless and light-hearted, 
In that I worship not at beauty's shrine ; 



FANTASIES. 

Tliey deem me cold, that through the years departed, 
I ne'er have bowed me to some form divine. 

They deem me proud, tliat, wliere tlie world hath flattered, 
I ne'er liave knelt to languish or adore ; 

They think not that the homage idly scattered 
Leaves the heart bankrupt, ere its spring is o'er. 

No ! in my soul there glows but one bright vision, 

And o'er my heart there rules but one fond spell, 
Bright'ning my hours of sleep with dreams Elysian 

Of one unseen, yet loved, aye cherished well ; 
Unseen? Ah! no; her presence round me lingers, 

Chasing each wayward thought that tempts to rove 
Weaving Affection's web with fairy fingers, 

And waking thoughts of purity and love. 

Star of my heaven ! thy beams shall guide me ever, 

Though clouds obscure, and thorns bestrew my path 
As sweeps my bark adown life's arrowy river 

Thy angel smile shall soothe misfortune's wrath ; 
And ah ! should Fate ere speed her deadliest arrow, 

Should vice allure to plunge in her dark sea, 
Be this the only shield my soul shall borrow — 

One glance to Heaven — one burning thought of thoel 

1 ne'er on earth may gaze on those bright features, 

Kor drink the light of that soul-beaming eye; 
But wander on 'mid earth's unthinking creatures, 

Unloved in life, and unlamented die ; 
But ne'er shall fade the spell thou weavest o'er ma, 

Nor fail the star that liglits my lonely way ; 
Still shall the night's fond dreams that light restore me, 

Though Fate forbid its gentler beams by day. 

I have not dreamed that gold or gems adorn thee — 
That Flatt'ry's voice may vaunt, thy matchless form; 

I little reck that worldlings all mf.y scorn tiiee, 
Be but thy soul still pure, thy /' ^^iiPj^s war.u , 



125 



126 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

Be thine briglit Intellect's unfoding treasures, 

And Poesy's more deeply-hallowed spell, 
And Faith the zest which heightens all thy pleasures, 

With trusting love— Maid of my soul ! farewell ! 

One more poem claims place liere, if from its autobiographi a 
character alone. Those Avho believe there is such a thing as regen- 
eration, who know that a man can act and live in a disinterested 
spirit, will not read this poem with entire incredulity. It ai)peare<] 
In the Southern Literary Jlesseuger for August, 1840. 

THE FADED STAPwS. 

I mind the time when Heaven's high dome 

"Woke in my soul a Avondrous thrill — 
When every leaf in Nature's tome 

Bespoke creation's marvels still ; 
When mountain cliff and sweeping glade, 

As morn unclosed her rosy bars, 
Woke joys intense — but naught e'er bade 

My heart leap up, like yon, bright stars ! 

Calm ministrants to God's high glory! 

Pure gems around His burning throne ! 
Mute watchers o'er man's strange, sad story 

Of Crime and Woe through ages gone ! 
'Twas yours the mild and hallowing spell 

That lured me from ignoble gleams — 
Taught me where sweeter fountains swell 

Than ever bless the worldling's dreams. 

How changed was life ! a waste no more, 
Beset by Want, and Pain, and Wrong ; 

Earth seemed a glad and fairy shore, 
Vocal with Hope's inspiring song. 

But ye, bright sentinels of Heaven ! 
Far glories of Night's radiant sky! 

Who, as ye gemmed the brow of Even, 

Has ever deemed itan born to die ? 
* * * ^ 



SUBJECTS OF HIS ESSAYS. 127 

Tis faded now, that wondrous grace 

That once on Heaven's forehead shone ; 
I read no more in Nature's face 

A soul responsive to my own. 
A dimness on my eye and spirit, 

Stern time has cast in hurrying hy ; 
Few joys my hardier years inherit, 

And leaden dullness rules the sky. 

Yet mourn not I — a stern, high duty 

Now nerves my arm and fires my brain ; 
Perish tlie dream of shapes of beauty, 

So that this strife be not in vain ; 
To war on Fraud entrenched with Power — 

On smooth Pretense and specious Wrong — 
This task be mine, tliough Fortune lower ; 

For this be banished sky and song. 

The subjects upon which the editor of the New Yorker iu*d tc 
descant, as editor, contrast curiously with those upon which, as 
poet, he aspired to sing. Turning over the well-printed pages of 
that journal, we find calm and rather elaborate essays upon ' The 
Interests of Labor,' 'Our Relations with France,' 'Speculation,' 
The Science of Agriculture,' ' Usury Laws,' ' The Currency,' ' Over- 
trading,' ' Divorce of Bank and State,' ' National Conventions,' 'In- 
ternational Copyright,' ' Pvelief of the Poor,' ' The Public Lands,' 
' Capital Punishment,' ' The Slavery Question,' and scores of others 
equally unromantic. There are, also, election returns given with 
great minuteness, and numberless paragraphs recording nomina- 
tions. The New Yorker gradually became the authority in the de- 
partment of political statistics. There were many people who did 
not consider an election ' safe,' or ' lost,' until they saw the figures . 
in the New Yorker. And the New Yorker deserved this distinc- 
tion ; for there never lived an editor more scrupulous upon the 
point of literal and absolute correctness than Uorace Greeley. To 
quote the language of a proof-reader — "If there is a thing that will 
make Horace furious, it is to have a name spelt wrong, cr a mistake 



V2h EDITOR OF THE NEW TORKER. 

in election returns." In fact, he was morbid on the subject, tiH 
time toughened him ; time, and proof-readers. 

The opinions which he expressed in the columns of the Ne"rt 
Yorker are, in general, those to which he still adheres, though on a 
few subjects he used language which he would not now use. Hia 
opinions on those subjects have rather advanced than changed. 
For example : he is now opposed to the punishment of death in all 
cases, except when, owing to peculiar circumstances, the immediate 
safety of the community demands it. In June, 1836, he wrote : — 
" And now, having fully expressed our conviction that the punish- 
ment of death is one which should sometimes be inflicted, we may 
add, that we would have it resorted to as unfrequently as possible. 
Nothing, in our view, but cold-blooded, premeditated, nnpalhated 
murder, can fully justify it. Let this continue to be visited with the 
sternest penalty." 

Another example. The following is part of an article on the 
Slavery Question, which appeared in July, 1834. It differs from 
his present writings on the same subject, not at. all in doctrine, 
though very much in tone. Then, he thought the North tlie ag- 
gressor. Since then, we have had Mexican Wars, Nebraska biUs, 
etc., and he now writes as one assailed. 

" To a philosophical observer, the existence of domestic servitude in one 
portion of the Union while it is forbidden and condemned in another, would 
indeed seem to afford no plausible pretext for variance or alienation. The 
Union was formed with a perfect knowledge, on the one hand, that slavery ex- 
isted at the south, and, on the other, that it was utterly disapproved and dis- 
countenanced at the north. But the framers of the constitution saw no reason 
for distrust and dissension in this circumstance. Wisely avoiding all discuss- 
ion of a subject so delicate and exciting, they proceeded to the formation of 
' a more perfect union,' which, leaving each section in the possession of its 
undoubted right of regulating its own internal government and enjoying it* 
own speculative opinions, provided only for the common benefit and mutual 
well-being of the whole. And why should not this arrangement be satisfac- 
tory and perfect 1 Why should not even the existing evils of one section be 
left to the correction of its own wisdom and virtue, when pointed out by the 
unerring finger of experience 1 

********* 
We entertain no doubt that the system of slavery is at the bottom of most 
of the evils which afflict the communities of the south— that it has occasioned 



HIS OPINIONS THEN. 



120 



the decline of Virginia, of Marj'land, of Carolina. We see it even retarding 
the growth of the new State of Missouri, and causing her to fill far behind 
her sister Indiana in improvement and population. And we venture to assert;, 
that if the objections to slavery, drawn from a correct and enlightened politi- 
cal economy, were once fairly placed before the southern public, they would 
need no other inducements to impel them to enter upon an immediate and 
effective course of legislation, with a view to the ultimate extinction of the 
evil. But, right or wrong, no people have a greater disinclination to the lec- 
tures or even the advice of their neighbors ; and we venture to predict, that 
whoever shall bring about a change of opinion in that quarter, must, in this 
case, reverse the proverb which declares, that ' a prophet hath honor except 
in his own country.' " 

4c 4i :|c ^ It >l> ^ 

After extolling the Colonization Society, and condemning the form- « 
ation of anti-slavery societies at the North, as irritating and useless, 
the editor proceeds : — " "We hazard the assertion, that there never 
existed two distinct races — so diverse as to be incapable of amalga- 
mation — inhabiting the same district of countr}', and in open and 
friendly contact with each other, that maintained a perfect equality 
of political and social condition. * * * It remains to be proved, 
that the hist()ry of the nineteenth century will afford a direct con- 
tradiction to all former experience. * * * We cannot close 
without reiterating the expression of our firm conviction, that if 
the African race are ever to be raised to a degree of comparative 
happiness, intelligence, and freedom, it must be in some other region 
than tliat which has been the theater of their servitude and degra- 
dation. Tiiey must ' come up out of the land of Egypt and out of 
the house of bondage ;' even though they should be forced to cross 
the sea in their pilgrimage and wander forty years in the wilder 
ness." 

Again. In 1835, he had not arrived at the Maine Law, but w<v 
feeling his way towards it. lie wrote thus: 

" Were we called upon to indicate simply the course which should te r^rhav 
for the eradication of this crying evil, our compliance would be a {ar oi,i« 
matter. We should say, unhesitatingly, that the vending of ul'-ot.yl, jr t^i 
liquors of which alcohol forms a leading component, should be .e'^u'atcd ^l/ 
the laws which govern the sale of other insidious, yet dtac^iy pcisonr. l\ 
ahoold be kept for sale oily by druggists, and dealt ou*, i'.. f.^f.d porHons, 
»nd with like regard to the character and ostensible p^u-pc^e jf .ho applicant 
9 



130 EuiTOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

ES in the case of its counterpart. * * * * But we must not forget, that 
we are to determine simply what may be done by the friends of temperance 
for the advancement of the noble cause in which they are engaged, rather 
than what the more ardent of them (with whom wo are proud to rank our- 
selves) would desire to see accomplished. AVe are to look at things as they 
are; and, in that view, all attempts to interdict the sale of intoxicating li:juor3 
in our hotels, our country stores, and our steam-boats, in the present state 
of public opinion, must be hopelessly, ridiculously futile. * * * * The 
only available provision bearing on this branch of the traffic, which could be 
urged with the least prospect of success, is the imposition of a real license- 
tax — say from SlOO to $1000 per annum — which would have the effect ol 
diminishing the evil by rendering less frequent and less universal the temp- 
tations which lead to it. But even that, we apprehend, would meet with 
strenuous opposition from so large and influential a portion of the community, 
fli! to render its adoption and efficiency extremely doubtful." 

The most bold and stirring of his articles in the Few Yorker, 
was one on the " Tyranny of Opinion," which was suggested by the 
extraordinary enthusiasm with which the Fourth of July was cel- 
ebrated in 1837. A part of this article is the only specimen of the 
young editor's performance, which, as a specimen, can find place in 
this chapter. The sentiments wliicli it avows, the country has not 
yet caught up with ; nor will it, for many a year after the hand 
that wrote them is dust. After an allusion to the celebration, the 
article proceeds : 

" The great pervading evil of our social condition is the worship and the 
bigotry of Opinion. While the theory of our political institutions asserts or 
implies the absolute freedom of the human mind — the right not only of free 
thought and discussion, but of the most unrestrained action thereon within 
the wide boundaries prescribed by the laws of the land, yet the practical com- 
mentary upon this noble text is as discordant as imagination can conceive. 
Beneath the thin veil of a democracy more free than that of Athens in her 
glory, we cloak a despotism more pernicious and revolting than that of 
Turkey or China. It is the despotism of Opinion. Whoever ventures to 
J ropound opinions strikingly at variance with those of the majority, must be 
content to brave obloquy, contempt and persecution. If political, they ex- 
clude him from public employment aad trust ; if religious, from social inter- 
course and general regard, if not from absolute rights. However moderately 
heretical in his political views, he cannot be a justice of the peace, an officer 
of the customs, or a lamp-lighter ; while, if he be positively and frankly 
skeptical in his theology, grave judges pronounce him incompetent to givi 



ni!5 MARRIAGE. 



131 



testimony in courts of justice, though his character for veracity be indubitable 
That is but a narrow view of the subject which ascribes all this injustice t« 
(he errors of parties or individuals; it flows naturally from the vice of the 
nge and country — the tyranny of Opinion. It can never bo wholly rectified 
until the whole community shall be brought to feel and acknowledge, that the 
only security for public liberty is to be found in the absolute and unqualified 
freedom of thought and expression, confining penal consequences to acts only 
which are detrimental to the welfare of society. 

" The philosophical observer from abroad may welt be astounded by the 
gross inconsistencies which are presented by the professions and the conduct 
of our people. Thousands will flock together to drink in the musical periods 
of some popular disclaimer on the inalienable rights of man, the inviolability 
of the immunities granted us by the Constitution and Laws, and the invariable 
reverence of freemen for the majesty of law. They go away delighted with 
our institutions, the orator and themselves. The next day they may be en- 
gaged in 'lynching' some unlucky individual who has fallen under their 
sovereign displeasure, breaking up a public meeting of an obnoxious cast, or 
tarring and feathering some unfortunate lecturer or propagandist, whose 
views do not square with their own, but who has precisely the same right to 
enjoy and propagate his opinions, however erroneous, as though he inculcated 
nothing but what every one knows and acknowledges already. The shamo- 
lessness of this incongruity is sickening ; but it is not confined to this glaring 
exhibition. The sheriff, town-clerk, or constable, who finds the political 
majority in his district changed, either by immigration or the course of 
events, must be content to change too, or be hurled from his station. Yet 
what necessary connection is there between his politics and his office ? Why 
might it not as properly be insisted that a town-officer should be six feet 
high, or have red hair, if the majority were so distinguished, as that ho 
should think with them respecting the men in high places and the measures 
projected or opposed by them 1 And how does the proscription of a man in 
any way for obnoxious opinions differ from the most glaring tyranny'?" 

In the Xew Yorker of July IGtli, 1836, may be seen, at tho 
liead of a long list of recent marriages, tlie following interesting an- 
nouncement: 

"In Imraannel ciuircli, Warrenton, North Carolina, on Tues- 
-lay morning, 5th inst, by Kev. William Norwood, Mr. Horace 
(ireeley, editor of the New Yorker, to Mis3 Mary Y. Cheney, of 
Warrenton, formerly of this city." 

The lady was by profession a teacher, and to use the einpliatio 
language of one of her friends, 'crazy for knowledge. The ac 
quaintance had been formed at tlie Graham House, and was con- 



132 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

tinued by correspondence after Miss Cheney, in the pursuit cf Lei 
vocation, had removed to ISTorth Carolina. Thitlier the lover hied, 
the two became one, and returned together to New York. Thej 
were married, as he said he would be, by the Episcopal form. 
Sumptuous was tlie attu-e of the bi-idegroom ; a suit of fine blac*k 
broadcloth, and " on this occasion only," a pair of silk stockings ! 
It appears tliat silk stockings and matrimony were, in his mind, as- 
sociated ideas, as rings and matrimony, orange blossoms and matri- 
mony, are in the minds of people in general. Accordingly, he 
bought a pair of silk stockings; but trying on liis wedding suit pre- 
vious to his departure for the south, he found, to his dismay, that 
the stockings were completely hidden by the affluent terminations 
of another garment. The question now at once occurred to his log- 
ical mind, 'What is the use of having silk stockings, if nobody can 
see that you have them V He laid the case, it is sai-d, before bis 
tailor, who, knowing his customer, immediately removed the diffi- 
culty by cutting away a crescent of cloth from the front of the 
aforesaid terminations, which rendered the silk stockings obvious 
to the most casual observer. Such is the story. And I regret 
that other stories, and true ones, highly honorable to his head 
and heart, delicacy forbids the telling of in this place. 

The editor, of course, turned his wedding tour to account in the 
way of his profession. On his journey southward, Horace Gree- 
ley first saw "Wasliington, and was impressed favorably by the 
houses of Congress, then in session. He wrote admiringly of the 
Senate : — " That the Senate of the United States is unsurpassed in 
intellectual greatness by any body of fifty men ever convened, is 
a trite observation. A phrenologist would fancy a strong con- 
firmation of his doctrines in the very appearance of the Senate ; 
a physiognomist would find it. The most striking person on tlie 
floor is Mr. Clay, who is incessantly in motion, and whose sjiare, 
erect form betrays an easy dignity approaching to majesty, and a 
perfect gracefulness, such as I have never seen equaled. His coun- 
tenance is intelligent and indicative of character; but a glance at 
his figure Avhile his fxce was completely averted, would give assur. 
ance that he was no common man. Mr, Calhoun is one of the 
plainest men and certainly the dryest, hardest speaker I ever 
listened to. The flow of his id<5as reminded me of a barrel filled 



PECUNIARY DIFFICULTIES. 133 

witli pelible.^, each of which must find great difficulty in escflpin" 
from the very solidity and number of those pressing upon it and 
impeding its natural motion. Mr. Calhoun, though far from being 
a handsome, is still a very remarkable personage ; but Mr. Benton 
nas the least intellectual countenance I ever saw on a senator. Mr. 
"Webster was not in his place." * * * * n jj^g ^^gj 
epeech was that of Mr. Crittenden, of Kentucky. That man is not 
appreciated so highly as he should and must be. lie has a 
rougli readiness, a sterling good sense, a republican manner and 
feeling, and a vein of biting, though homely satire, which will 
yet raise him to distinction in the National Councils." 

"Were Greeley and Co. making their fortune meanwhile? Far 
from it. To edit a paper well is one thing ; to make it pay as a 
business is another. The Kew Yorker had soon become a famous, 
an admired, and an influential paper. Subscriptions poured in ; the 
establishment looked prosperous ; but it was not. The sorry tale 
of its career as a business is very fully and forcibly told in the vari- 
ous addresses to, and chats with. Our Patrons, which appear in the 
volumes of 1837, that 'year of ruin,' and of the years of slow re- 
covery from ruin which followed. In Octobei", 1837, the editor 
thus stated his melancholy case : 

" Ours is a plain story ; and it shall be plainly told. The New Yorker was 
established with very moderate expectations of pecuniary advantage, but 
with strong hopes that its location at the head-quarters of intelligence for the 
continent, and its cheapness, would insure it, if well conducted, such a patron- 
age as would be ultimately adequate, at least, to the bare expenses of its pub- 
lication. Starting with scarce a shadow of patronage, it had four thousand 
Gve hundred subscribers at the close of the first year, obtained at an outlay of 
three thousand dollars beyond the income in that period. This did not mate- 
rially disappoint the publishers' expectations. Another year passed, and their 
subscription increased to seven thousand, with a further outlay, beyond all re- 
ceipts, of t(To thousand dollars. A third year was commenced with two edi- 
tions — folio and quarto — of our journal; and at its close, their conjoint sub- 
scriptions amounted to near nine thousand five hundred ; yet our receipts had 
again fallen two thousand dollars behind our absolutely necessary expendi- 
tures. Such was our situation at the commencement of this year of ruin ; 
and we found ourselves wholly unable to continue our former reliance on the 
honor and ultimate good faith of our backward subscribers. Two thousand five 
hundred of them were stricken from our list, and every possible retrenchment of 



|34 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER 

our expenditures effected. AVith the exercise of the most parsimonbug frugai 
ity, and aided by (he extreme kindness and generous confidence of our friends, 
we have barelj and with great difiaculty kept our bark afloat. For the future, we 
have no resource but in the justice and generosity of our patrons. Our humble 
portion of this world's goods has long since been swallowed up in the all-devour- 
insr vortex ; both of the Editor's original associates in the undertaking have 
Abandoned it with loss, and those who now fill their places have invested to the 
full amount of their ability. Not a farthing has been drawn from the concern 
by any one save for services rendered ; and the allowance to the proprietory 
having charge respectively of the editorial and publishing departments has 
been far less than their services would have commanded elsewhere. The last six 
months have been more disastrous than any which preceded them, as we have 
continued to fall behind our expenses without a corresponding increase of pat- 
ronage. A large amount is indeed due us ; but we find its collection almost 
impossible, except in inconsiderable portions and at a ruinous expense. All 
appeals to the honesty and good faith of the delinquents seem utterly fruit- 
less. As a last resource, therefore, and one beside which we have no alterna- 
tive, we hereby announce, that from and after this date, the price of the New 
Yorker will be three dollars per annum for the folio, and four dollars for the 
quarto edition 

" Friends of the New Yorker ! Patrons ! we appeal to you, not foi charitj', 
but for justice. Whoever among you is in our debt, no matter how small tha 
sum, is guilty of a moral wrong in withholding the payment. We bitterly 
need it — we have a right to expect it. Six years of happiness could not atone 
for the horrors which blighted hopes, agonizing embarrassments, and gloomy 
apprehensions — all arising in great measure from your neglect — have con- 
spired to heap upon us during the last six months. We have borne nil in si- 
lence : we now tell .you we must have our pay. Our obligations for the next 
two months are alarmingly heavj', and thej' must be satisfied, at whatever sac- 
rifice. We shall cheerfully give up whatever may remain to us of property, 
and mortgage years of future exertion, sooner than incur a shadow of dishonor, 
by subjecting those who have credited us to loss or inconvenience. We must 
pay ; and fur the means of doing it we appeal most earnestly to you. It is 
possible that we might still further abuse the kind solicitude of our friends ; 
but the thought is agony. We should be driven to what is but a more delicate 
mode of beggary, when justice from those who withhold the hard earnings of 
our unceasing toil would place us above the revolting necessity ! At any rate, 
we will not submit to the humiliation without an effort. 

" AVe have struggled until we can no longer doubt that, with the present 
jurrency — and there seems little hope of an immediate improvement — we can- 
not live at our former prices. The suppression of small notes was a blow to 
cheap city papers, from which there is no hope of recovery. With a currency 
mcluding notes of two and three dollars, one half our receipts would come tn 



PECUNrAUY DIFBICI I.TIES. 135 

US directly from tlio subscribers ; without such notes, we must sibmit to an 
agent's oliarge on nenrh' every collection. Uesidcs, the notes from tho South 
U'estern States are now at from twenty to thirty* per cent. di;count ; and have 
been more : those from the West range from six to twenty. All notes be3'ond 
the Delaware River range from twice to ten times the discount charged upon 
them when we started the New Yorker. Wo cannot afford to depend exclu- 
sively upon the patronage to be obtained in our immediate neighborhood; we 
cannot retain distant patronage without receiving the money in which alone 
our subscribers can paj'. But one course, then, is left us — to tax our valuable 
f-atronage with the delinquencies of the worse than worthless — the paying foi 
the non-paying, and those who send us par-money, with the evils of our pres- 
ent depraved and depreciated currency." 

Two years after, there appeared another chapter of pecuniary his- 
tory, written in a more hopeful strain. A short extract will com- 
plete the reader's knowledge of the subject : 

" Since the close of the year of ruin (1837), we have pursued the even tenor 
of our way with such fortune as was vouchsafed us ; and, if never elated with 
any signal evidence of popular favor, we have not since been doomed to gazo 
fixedly for months into the yawning abyss of Ruin, and feel a moral certainty 
that, however averted for a time, that must be our goal at last. On the con- 
trary, our affairs have slowly but steadily improved for some time past, and 
we now hope that a few months more will place us beyond the reach of pecu- 
niary embarrassments, and enable us to add new attractions to our journal. 

" And this word ' atlractiop' brings us to the confession that tho success of 
our enterprise, if success there has been, has not been at all of a pecuniary 
cast thus far. Probably we lack the essential elements of that very desirable 
kind of success. There have been errors, mismanagement and losses in the 
conduct of our business. We mean that we l:tck, or do not take kindly to, the 
arts which contribute to a newspaper sensation. When our journal first ap- 
peared, a hundred copies marked the extent to which the public curiosity 
claimed its perusal. Others establish new papers, (the New World and Brother 
Jonathan ^Ir. Greeley might have instanced,) even without literary reputa- 
tion, as we were, and five or ten thousand copies are taken at once — just to 
see what the new thing is. And thence they career onward on the crest of a 
towering wave. 

" Since the New Yorker was first issued, sevin copartners in its publication 
have successively withdrawn from the concern, generally, we regret to saj', 
without having improved their fortunes by the connection, and most of them 
with the conviction that the work, however valuable, was not calculated to 
prove lucrative to its proprietors. 'You don't humbug enough,' has been 
Ihe complaint of more than one of our retiring associates; 'you ought to 



X36 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

make more noise and vaunt your own merits. The woild wiil never believe 
you print a good paper unless you tell them so.' Our course has not been 
changed by these representations. We have endeavored in all things t* 
maintain our self-respect and deserve the good opinion of others ; if we have not 
succeeded in the latter particular, the failure is much to be regretted, but hardly 
to be amended by pursuing the vaporous course indicated. If our journal be a 
good one, those who read it will be very apt to discover the fact ; if it be not, 
our assertion of its excellence, however positive and frequent, would scarcolj 
outweigh the weekly evidence still more abundantly and convincingly fur- 
nished. We are aware that this view of the case is controverted by practical 
results in some cases ; but we are content wiih the old course, and have never 
envied the success which Merit or Pretense may attain by acting as its own 
trumpeter." 

The New Yorker never, during the seven years of its existence 
became profitable ; and its editor, during the greater part of the 
time, derived even his means of subsistence either from the business 
of job printing or from other sources, which will be alluded to in a 
moment. The causes of the New Yorker's signal failure as a busi- 
ness seem to have been these : 

1. It was a very good paper, suited only to the more intelligent 
class of the community, wliich, in all times and countries, is a small 
class. " We have a pride," said the editor once, and truly, "in be- 
lieving that we might, at any time, render our journal more attrac- 
tive to the million by rendering it less deserving ; and that by merely 
considering what would be sought after and read with avidity, with- 
out regard to its moral or its merit, we might easily become popu- 
lar at the mere expense of our own self-approval." 

2. It seldom praised, never puffed, itself. The editor, however 
seems to have thought, that he might have done both with pro- 
priety. Or was he speaking in pure irony, when he gave the Mirror 
this 'first-rate notice.' "There is one excellent quality," said he, 
"which has always been a characteristic of the Mirror — the virtue 
of self-appreciation. We call it a virtue, and it is not merely one 
in. itself, but the parent of many others. As regards our vocation, 
it is alike necessary and just. The world should be made to under- 
stand, that the aggregate of talent, acquirement, tact, industry, and 
general intelligence which is required to sustain creditably the char- 
acter of a public journal, might, if judiciously parceled out, form 
the stamina of, at least, one professor of languages, two brazen leo 



CAUSES OF THE NEW TORKEu's ILL-SUCCESS. 137 

tnrers on science, etliics, or phrenology, and three average congress 
lonal or other demagogues. Why, then, should starvation wave 
his skeleton scepter in terrorem over such a congregation of avail- 
able excellences?" 

3. The leading spirit of the New Yorker had a singular, a consti- 
tutional, an incurable inability to conduct business. His character 
is the exact opposite of that 'hard man' in the gospel, who reaped 
Avhere he had not sown. lie was too amiable, too confiding, toe 
absent, and too ' easy,' for a business man. If a boy stole his let- 
ters from the post-office, he would admonish him, and either let him 
go or try him again. If a writer in extremity offered to do certain 
paragraphs for three dollars a week, he would say, "No, that's too 
little; I '11 give you five, till you can get something better." On 
one occasion, he went to the post-ofRce himself, and receiving a 
large number of letters, put them, it is said, into the pockets of 
his overcoat. On reaching the office, he hung the overcoat on its 
accustomed peg, and was soon lost in the composition of an article. 
It was the last of the chilly days of spring, and he thonght no more 
either of his overcoat or its pockets, till the autumn. Letters kept 
coming in complaining of the non-receipt of papers which had been 
ordered and paid for; and the office was sorely perplexed. On the 
first cool day in October, when the editor Avas shaking a summer's 
dirt from his overcoat, the missing letters were found, and the mys- 
tery was explained. Another story gives us a peep into the office 
of the New Yorker. A gentleman called, one day, and asked to 
Bee the editor. " I am the editor," said a little coxcomb who was 
temporarily in charge of the paper. "You are not the person I 
want to see," said the gentleman. " Oh 1" said the puppj-, " you 
wish to see the Printer. He 's not in town." The men in the com- 
posing-room chanced to overhear this colloquy, and thereafter, our 
hero was called by the nickname of 'The Printer,' and by that 
alone, whether he was present or absent. It was "Printer, how 
will you have this set?" or "Printer, we 're waiting for copy." All 
this was very pleasant and amiable ; but, businesses which pay are 
never carried on in that style. It is a pity, but a fact, that busi- 
nesses which pay, are generally conducted in a manner which is 
exceedingly disagreeable to those who assist in them. 

4. The Year of Ruin. 



138 EDITOR OF THE XEW TCRKER. 

5. Tlie ' cauli principle,' tlie onl}' safe one, liad not 1>cjd yet ap- 
plied to tlie newspaper business. The New Yorker lust, on an aver 
age, 1,200 dollars a year by the removal of subscribers to parts 
unknown, who left without paying for their paper, or notifying the 
office of their departure. 

Of the unnumbered pangs that mortals know, pecuniary anxiety 
is to a sensitive and honest young heart the bitterest. To live up- 
on the edge of a gulf that yawns hideously and always at our feet._ 
to feel the ground giving way under the house that holds our hap- 
piness, to walk in the pathway of avalanches, to dwell under a 
volcano rumbling prophetically of a coming eruption, is not pleas^ 
ant. But welcome yawning abyss, welcome earthquake, avalanche, 
volcano! They can crush, and burn, and swallow a man, but not 
degrade him. The terrors they inspire are not to be compared 
with the deadly and withering Fear that crouches sullenly in the 
soul of that honest man who owes much money to many people, 
and cannot think how or when he can pay it. That alone has 
power to take from life all its charm, and from duty all its interest. 
For other sorrows there is a balm. That is an evil unmingled, 
while it lasts; and the light which it throws upon the history of 
mankind and the secret of man's struggle with fate, is purchased 
at a price fully commeusurate witii the value of that light. 

The editor of the New Yorker suffered all that a man could suf- 
fer from this dread cause. In private letters he alludes, but only 
alludes, to his anguish at this period. "Through m.ost of the time," 
he wrote years afterward, " I was very poor, and for four years re- 
ally bankrupt ; though always paying my notes and keeping my 
word, but living as poorl}' as possible." And again: " My embar- 
rassments were sometimes dreadful ; not that I feared destitution, 
but tiie fear of involving my friends in my misfortunes was very 
hitler." He came one afternoon into the house of a friend, and 
handing her a copy of his paper, said : "There, Mrs. S., that is the 
last nun^.ber of the New Yorker you will ever see. I can secure 
my friends against loss if I stop now, and I '11 not risk their money 
by holding on any longer." He went over that evening to Mr. 
Gregory, to make known to him his determination ; lyit that con- 
etant and invincible friend would not listen to it. He insisted on 
his continuing the struggle, and offered his assistance with sucb 



PARK BENJAaIIN. HENRY J. RAYMONi.-. 130 

frank and earnest cordiality, that our Iiero'3 scruples wore at 
length removed, and he came home elate, and resolved to battle 
another year with delinquent subscribers and a depreciated currency. 

During the early years of the New Yorker, Mr. Greeley had lit- 
tle regular assistance in editing the paper. In 1839, Mr. Park Ben- 
jamin contributed much to the interest of its columns by his lively 
and humorous critiques; but his connection with the paper was not 
Oi' JCJg duration. It was long enough, however, to make him ac- 
quainted with the character of his associate. On retiring, in Ocio- 
ber, 1839, he wrote : " Grateful to my feelings has been my inter- 
course with the readers of the New Yorker and witli its principal 
editor and proprietor. By the former I hope my humble efforts 
will not be unremembered ; by the latter I am happy to believe 
that the sincere friendship which I entertain for him is reciproca- 
ted. I still insist upon my editorial right so far as to say in oppo- 
sition to any veto wliicli my coadjutor may interpose, that I can- 
not leave the association wliich has been so agreeable to me with- 
out paying to sterling worth, unbending integrity, high moral prin- 
ciple and ready kindness, their just due. These qualities exist in 
the character of tlie man with whom now I part ; and by all, to 
whom such qualities appear admirable, must such a character be 
esteemed. His talents, his industry, require no commendation from 
me ; the readers of this journal know them too well ; the public is 
sufficiently aware of the manner in which they have been exerted. 
What I have said has flowed from my heart, tributary rather to its 
own emotions than to the subject which has called them forth; 
liis plain good name is his best eulogy." 

A few months later, Mr. Henry J. Raymond, a recent graduate 
of Burlington College, Vermont, came to the city to seek his for- 
tune. He had written some creditable sketcties for the New 
Yorker, over the signature of " Fantome," and on reaching the 
city called upon Horace Greeley. The result was that he entered 
the office as an assistant editor "till he could get so.-iethiiig bet- 
ter," and it may encourage some young, hard-working, unrecognized, 
ill-paid journalist, to know that the editor of the New York Daily 
Times began his editorial career upon a salary of eight dollars a 
week. Tiie sdid unrecognized, however, should furtlier be informed, 
vhat Mr. Raymond is tlie hardest and swiftest wrrker connected 
ikith the New York Press. 



CHAPTER XL 

THE JEFFEESOXIAN. 

Objects of the Jefiersonian — Its characler — A novel Glorious- Victory paragriph — Th« 
Graves and Cilley duel — The Editor overworked. 

The slender income derived from the New Yorker obliged its 
editor to engage in other labors. He wrote, as occasion offered, for 
various periodicals. The Daily Whig he supplied with its leading 
article for several months, and in 1838 undertook the entire edito- 
rial charge of the Jeffersonian, a weekly paper of the 'campaign' 
description, started at Albany on the third of March, and continu- 
ing in existence for one year. 

With the conception and the establishment of the Jeffersonian, 
Horace Greeley had nothing to do. It was publislied under the 
auspices and by the direction of the "Whig Central Committee of 
the State of New York, and the fund for its establishment was con- 
tributed by the leading politicians of tlie State in sums of ten dol- 
lars. " I never sought the post of its editor," wrote Mr. Greeley in 
1848, "but was sought for it by leading -Ohigs whom I had never 
before personally known." It was afforded at fifty cents a year, 
attained rapidly a circulation of fifteen thousand ; the editor, who 
spent three days of each week in Albany, receiving for his year's 
services a thousand dollars. The ostensible object of the paper was 
— to quote the language of its projectors — " to furnish to every 
person within the State of New York a complete summary of politi- 
cal intelligence, ai a rate which shall place it absolutely within the 
reach of every u.an who will read it." But, according to the sub- 
sequent explanation of the Tribune, "it was established on the im- 
pulse of th whig tornado of 1837, to secure a like result in 1838, 
BO as to give the Wliig party a Governor, Lieutenant (jrovernor 
Senate, Assembly, U. S. Senator, Congressmen, and all the vast ex> 
scutive patronage of the State, then amounting to millions of dol- 
ors a year."^ 

140 



GLOniOUS VICTORY. 



141 



riie Jcffersonian wj^ a good paper. It was published in a neal 
■ . to form of eight pages. Its editorials, gencrall}' few and brief, 
were written to convince, not to inflame, to enlighten, not to blind. 
It published a great many of the best speeches of the day, some 
for, some against, its own principles. Each number contained a full 
and well-compiled digest of political intelligence, and one page, or 
•nore, of general intelligence. It was not, in the slightest degree, 
like what is generally understood by a 'campaign paper.' Capital 
letters and po'nts of admiration were as little used as in the sedata 
and courteous columns of the New Yorker; and there is scarcely 
anything to be found of the 'Glorious Victory' sort except this: 

" Glorious Victory ! ' We have met the enemy, and they are ours !' Our 
whole ticket, with the exception of town clerk, one constable, three fence-view- 
ers, a pound-master and two hog-reeves elected ! There never was such a 
riumph !" 

Stop, my friend. Have you elected the best men to the several offices to bo 
filled'? Have you chosen men who have hitherto evinced not only capacity 
but integrity ? — men whom you would trust implicity in every relation and 
business of life ? Above all, have you selected the very best person in the 
township for the important office of Justice of the Peace 1 If yea, we rejoice 
with you. If the men whose election will best subserve the cause of virtue 
and public order have been chosen, even your opponents will have little rea- 
8on for regret. If it be otherwise, you have achieved but an empty and du- 
bious triumph. 

It would be gratifying to know what the Whig Central Commit- 
tee thought of such unexampled 'campaign ' language. In a word, 
the Jeffersonian was a better fifty cents' worth of thought and fact 
than had previously, or has since, been afforded, in the form of a 
weekly paper. 

The columns of the Jeflfersonian afford little material for the pur- 
poses of this volume. There are scarcely any of those character- 
istic touches, those autobiographical allusions, that contribute S6 
much to the interest of other papers with which our hero has been 
connected. This is one, however: 

(Whosoever may have picked up the wallet of the editor of this 
paper — lost somewhere near State street, about the 20th ult., shall 
receive half the contents, all round, by returning the balance to thia 
office.) 



142 THE JEFFERSOXIAJI. 

I will indulge the readei- with one article entire from tlie Jeffer- 
Bonian ; 1, because it is interesting ; 2, because it will serve to sho-« 
the spirit and the manner of the editor in recording and comment- 
ing upon the topics of the day. lie has since written more em- 
phatic, but not more effective articles, on similar subjects : 

THE TEAGEDY AT WASIIlXGTOy. 

The whole country is shocked, and its moral sensibilities outraged, by the 
horrible tragedy lately perpetrated at Washington, of which a member cf 
Congress was the victim. It was, indeed, an awful, yet we will hope not a 
profitless catastrophe ; and we blush for human ."jature when we observe the 
raost systematic efforts used to pervert to purposes of party advantage and 
personal malignity, a result which should be sacred to the interests of human- 
ity and morality — to the stern inculcation and enforcement of a reverence for 
the laws of the land and the mandates of God. 

Nearly a month since, a charge of corruption, or an offer to sell oflicial in- 
iluence and e.xertion for a pecuniary consideration, against some unnamed 
member of Congress, was transmitted to the New York Courier and Enquirer 
by its correspondent, ' the Spy in Washington.' Its appearance in that journal 
called forth a resolution from Mr. Wise, that the charge be investigjted by 
the House. On this an irregular and excited debate arose, which consumed a 
day or two, and which was signalized by severe attacks on the Public Press 
of this country, and on the letter-writers from Washington. In particular, 
the Courier and Enquirer, in which this charge appeared, its chief Editor, and 
its correspondent the Spy, were stigmatized; and Mr. Cilley, a member from 
Maine, was among those who gave currency to the charges. Col. Webb, the 
Editor, on the appearance of these charges, instantly proceeded to Washington, 
and there addressed a note to Mr. Cilley on the subject. That note, it ap- 
pears, was courteous and dignified in its language, merely inquiring of Mr. 
C. if his remarks, published in the Globe, were intended to convey any per- 
sonal disrespect to the writer, and containing no menace of any kind. It was 
handed to Mr. Cilley by Mr. Graves, a member from Kentucky, but declined 
by Mr. C, on the ground, as was understood, that he did not choose to b<j 
drawn into controversy with Editors of public journals in regard to his remarks 
in the House. This was correct and honorable ground. The Constitution 
expressly provides that members of Congress shall not be responsible else- 
where for words spoken in debate, and the provision is a most noble and 
necessary c.ne. 

But Mr. Graves considered the reply as placing him in an equivocal posi- 
tion. If a note transmitted through his hands had been declined, as was 
Uable to be understood, because the writer was not worthy the treatment of 
ft gentleman, the dishonor was reflected on himself as the bearer of a dise-race- 



THE G HAVES AND CILLEY DUEL. 143 

ful message. Mr. Graves, therefore, wrote a note to Mr. C, asking h,m if 
he were correct in his understanding that the letter in qucjti )n was declined 
because Mr. C. could not consent to hold himself accountable to public jour- 
nalists for words spoken in debate, and not on grounds of personal objection 
to Col. AA'ebb as a gentleman. To this note 'Mr. Cilley replied, on the ad- 
visement of his friends, that he declined the note of Cul. Webb, because be 
"chose to be drawn into no controversy with him," and added that he 

neither affirmed nor denied anything in regard to his character." This was 
considered by Jlr. Graves as involving him fully in the dilemma which he 
was sceiiing to avoid, and amounting to an impeachment of his veracity, and 
he now addressed another note to inquire, " whether you declined to receive hit 
(Col. Webb's) communication on the ground of any personal objection to him 
as a gentleman of honor?" To this query Mr. Cilley declined to give an 
answer, denj'ing the right of Mr. G. to propose it. The next letter in courso 
was a challenge from Mr. Graves by the hand of Mr. Wise, promptly respond- 
ed to by Mr. Cilley through Gen. Jones of Wisconsin. 

The weapons selected by Mr. Ciliey were rifles ; the distance eighty yards 
(It was said that Mr. Cilley was practicing with the selected weapon the 
morning of accepting the challenge, and that he lodged eleven balls in suc- 
cession in a space of four inches square.) Mr. Graves experienced some diffi- 
culty in procuring a rifle, and asked time, which was granted ; and Gen. 
Jones, Mr. Cilley's second, tendered him the use of his own rifle ; but, mean- 
time, Mr. Graves had procured one. 

The challenge was delivered at 12 o'clock on Friday ; the hour selected by 
Mr. Cilley was 12 of the following day. His unexpected choice of rifles, how- 
ever, and Mr. Graves' inability to procure one, delayed the meeting till 2 
o'clock. 

The first fire was ineffectual. Mr. Wise, as second of the challenging party, 
now called all parties together, to effect a reconciliation. Mr. C. declining to 
negotiate while under challenge, it was suspended to give room for explana- 
tion. Mr. Wise remarked — " Mr. Jones, these gentlemen have come here 
without animosity towards each other ; they are fighting merely upon a point 
of honor ; cannot Mr. Cilley assign some reason for not receiving at Mr. 
Graves' hands Colonel Webb's communication, or make some disclaimer which 
will relieve Mr. Graves from his position?" The reply «vas — "I am author- 
ized by my friend, Mr. Cilley, to say that in declining to receive the note from 
Mr. Graves, purporting to be from Colonel Webb, he meant no disrespect to 
Mr. Graves, because he entertained for him then, as he now does, the highest 
respect and the most kind feelings ; but that he declined to receive the note 
because h« chose not to be drawn into any controversy with Colonel Webb.' 
This is Mr. Jones' version ; Mr. Wise thinks he said, " My friend refuses tj 
disclaim disrespect to Colonel Webb, because he does not choose to be drawn 
into an expression of opinion as to him " After consultation, Mr Wise re- 



144 THE JEFFERSONIAN. 

turned to Mr. Jones and said, " Mr. Jones, this answer leaves Mr, Graves pre 
cisely in the position in which he stood when the challenge was sent." 

Another exchange of shots was now had to no purpose, and another attempt 
at reconciliation was likewise unsuccessful. The seconds appear to have beeu 
mutually and anxiously desirous that the aflfair should here terminate, but no 
arrangement could be eflfected. Mr. Graves insisted that his antagouist should 
place his refusal to receive the message of which he was the bearer on some 
grounds which did not imply such an opinion of the writer as must reflect dis- 
grace on the bearer. He endeavored to have the refusal placed on the ground 
that Mr. C. " did not hold himself accountable to Colonel Webb for words 
gpoken in debate." This was declined by Mr. Cilley, and the duel proceeded. 
The official statement, drawn up by the two seconds, would seem to import 
that but three shots were exchanged ; but other accounts state positively that 
Mr. Cilley fell at the fourth fire. He was shot through the body, and died in 
two minutes. On seeing that he had fallen, badly wounded, Mr. Graves ex- 
pres.sed a wish to see him, and was answered by Mr. Jones — " My friend is 
dead, sir !" 

Colonel Webb first heard of the difficulty which had arisen on Friday even- 
ing, but was given to understand that the meeting would not take place for 
several days. On the following morning, however, he had reason to suspect 
the truth. He immediately armed himself, and with two friends proceeded to 
Mr. Cilley's lodgings, intending to force the latter to meet him before he did 
Mr. Graves. He did not find him, however, and immediately proceeded to the 
old dueling ground at Bladensburgh, and thence to several other places, to 
interpose himself as the rightful antagonist of Mr. Cilley. Had he found the 
parties, a more dreadful tragedy still would doubtless have ensued. But the 
place of meeting had been changed, and the arrangements so secretly made, 
that though Mr. Clay and many others were on the alert to prevent it, the 
duel was not interrupted. 

"We believe we have here stated every material fact in relation to this 
melancholy business. It is suggested, however, that Mr. Cilley was less dis- 
posed to concede anything from the first in consideration of his own course 
when a difficulty recently arose between two of his colleagues, Messrs. Jarvia 
and Smith, which elicited a challenge from the former, promptly and nobly 
declined by the latter. This refusal, it is said, was loudly and vehemently 
stigmatized as cowardly by Mr. Cilley. This circumstance does not come to 
as well authenticated, but it is spoken of as notorious at Washington. 

" But enough of detail and circumstance. The reader who has not seen the 
official statement will find its substance in the foregoing. He can lay the 
blame where he chooses. We blame only the accursed spirit of False Honor 
which required this bloody sacrifice— the horrid custom of Dueling which ex. 
tcts and palliates this atrocity. It appears evident that Mr. Cilley's course 
«ust have been based on the determination that Col. Webb was no' entitled 



THE EDITOR OVERWORKED. 145 

lo be regarded ns a gentleman ; and if so, there was hardly an csc.ipo frcot 
a bloody conclusion after Mr. Graves had once consented, however uncon- 
sciour.ly, to bear the note of Col. Webb. Each of the parties, doubtless, acted 
ss he considered due to his own character; each was right in the view of the 
duelist's code of honor, but fearfully wrong in the ej-e of reason, of morality, 
of humanity, and the imperative laws of man and of God. Of the principals, 
one sleeps cold and stiff beneath the icy pall of winter and the clods of the 
valley ; the other — far more to be pitied — lives to execrate through years of 
nngu'sh and remorse the hour when he was impelled to imbrue his hands in 
the b.ood of a fellow-being. 

Mr. Graves we know personally, and a milder and more amiable gentleman 
is rarely to be met with. He has for the last two years been a Representative 
from the Louisville District, Kentucky, and is universally esteemed and be- 
loved. Mr. Cilley was a young man of one of the best families in New Hamp- 
shire ; his grandfather was a Colonel and afterwards a General of the Revo- 
lution. His brother was a Captain in the last War with Great Britain, and 
leader of the desperate bayonet charge at Bridgewater. Mr. Cilley himself, 
though quite a j'ouiig man, has been for two years Speaker of the House of 
Representatives of Maine, and was last year elected to Corgress from the 
Lincoln District, which is decidedly opposed to him in politics, and which 
ivicently gave 1,200 majority for tba other side. Young as he was, he had ac- 
quired a wide popularity and influence in his own State, and was laying the 
foundations of a brilliant career in the National Councils. And this man, with 
so many ties to bind him to life, with the sky of his future bright with hope, 
without an enemy on earth, and with a wife and three children of tender age 
whom his death must drive to the verge of madness — has perished miserably 
in a combat forbidden by God, growing out of a difference so pitiful in itself, 
80 direful in its consequences. 

Could we add anything to render the moral more terribly impressive 7 

The year of the Jcffersonian was a most laborious and harassing 
one. No one but a Greeley would or could have endured such con- 
tinuous and distracting toils. He had two papers to provide for; 
papers diverse in character, papers published a hundred and fifty 
miles apart, papers to which expectant thousands looked for tlieir 
leckly supply of mental pabulum. As soon as the agony of getting 
the New Yorker to press was over, and copy for the outside of the 
next number given out, away rushed the editor to the Albany boat ; 
and after a night of battle with the bed-bugs of the cabin, or the 
politicians of the hurricane-deck, he hurried off to new duties at the 
office of the Jcffersonian. Tlie Albany boat of 1838 was a very 
different style of coaveyance from the Albany boat of the present 
10 



146 THE LOG CABIX. 

year of oli- Lord. It was, in fact, not much more than sis times as 
elegant and comfortable as the steamers that, at this hour, ply in 
the seas and channels of Europe. The sufferings of our hero may 
be imagined. 

But, not his labors. They can be understood only by those -vvho 
know, by blessed experience, what it is to get up, or try to get up, 
a good, correct, timely, and entertaining weekly paper. The sub- 
ject of editorial labor, however, must be reserved for a future pagc\ 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE LOG-CABIN. 

" TirrECANOE A.ND TTLER TOO." 

U'ire-pulling — ^The delirium of 1840 — The Log-Cabin — Unprecedented hit — A glance at 
i(s pages — Log-Cabin jukes — Log-Cabin songs— Horace Greeley and the cake-baa- 
ket — Pecuniary difBcullies continue — The Tribune announced. 

Wire-pulling is a sneaking, bad, demoralizing business, and the 
people hate it. The campaign of 1840, which resulted in the elec- 
tion of General Harrison to tlie presidency, was, at bottom, the 
revolt of the people of the United States against the wire-palling 
principle, supposed to be incarnate in the person of Martin Van 
Buren. Other elements entered into the delirium of those mad 
months. The country was only recovering, and that Jowly, from 
the disasters of 183G and 1837, and the times were still 'hard.' 
But the fire and fury of the struggle arose from the fact, that Gen- 
eral Harrison, a man Avho had done something, was pitted against 
Marlin Van Buren, a man who had pulled wires. The hero of Tip- 
pecanoe and the farmer of iSTorth Bend, against the wily diplomatist 
who partook of sustenance by the aid of gold spoons. The Log- 
<Jabin against the White House. 

Great have been the triumphs of wire-pulling in this and othei 
countries; and yet it is an unsafe thing to engage in. As bluflf 
King Hal melted away, with one fiery glance, all the greatness of 



CNPRECEDENTKD HIT. 147 

Wolsoy ; as the elephant, with a tap ot liis trunk, knocks the breath 
out of the little tj-rant whom ho had been longj accustomed implicitly 
to obey, — so do the People, in some quite unexpected moment, blow 
away, with one breath, the elaborate and deep-hiid scliemes of the 
republican wire-puller; and him/ They have done it, wire-pul- 
ler! and will do it again. 

AVho can have forgotten that campaign of 1S40? The ' masa 
meetings,' the log-cabin raisings, the 'hard cider' drinking, tlie song 
singing, the Tippecanoe clubs, the caricatures, the epigrams, the 
jokes, the universal excitement! General Harrison was sun {; into 
Mie presidential chair. Van Bnren was laughed out of it. Every 
town had its log-cabin, its club, and its chorus. Tippecanoe song- 
books were sold by the hundred thousand. There were Tippecanoe 
medals, Tippecanoe badges, Tipi)ecanoe flags, Tippecanoe handker- 
chiefs, Ti])pecanoe almanacs, and Tippecanoe shaving-soap. All 
other interests were sAvallowed up in tlic one interest of the elec- 
tion. All noises were drowned in the cry of Tippecanoe and Tyler 
too. 

The man who contributed most to keep alive and increase the 
popular enthusiasm, the man who did most to feed that enthusiasm 
with the substantial fuel of fact and argument, was, beyond all ques- 
tion, Horace Greeley. 

On the second of May, the first number of the Log-Cabin ap- 
peared, by ' H. Greeley & Co.,' a weekly paper, to be published 
simultaneously at New York and Albany, at fifty cents for the cam- 
paign of six months. It was a small paper, about half the size of 
the present Tribune ; but it was conducted with wonderful spirit, 
and made an unprecedented hit. Of the first number, an edition of 
twenty thousand was printed, wliich Mr. Greeley's friends tliouglit a far 
greater number than would be sold ; but the edition vanished from the 
counter in a day. Eight thousand more were struck off; they were 
sold in a morning. Four thousand more were printed, and still the 
demand seemed unabated. A further supply of six. thousand was 
printed, and the types were then distributed. lu a few days, how- 
ever, the demand became so urgent, that the number was re-.set, and 
an edition often thousand struck off. Altogether, forty-eight thou- 
sand of the- nrst number were sold. Subscribers came pouring in 
at the rate of seven hundred a day. The list lentrrhencd in a few 



148 THE LOG CABIN. 

weeks to sixtj' thousand names, and kept increasing till the weeklj 
issue was between eighty and ninety thousand. ' H. Greeley and 
Co.' were really overwhelmed with their success. They had made 
no preparations for such an enormous increase of business, and they 
were troubled to hire clerks and folders fast enough to get their 
stupendous edition into the mails. 

The Log Cabin is not dull reading, even now, after the lapse of 
fifteen years ; and though the men and the questions of that day 
are, most of them, dead. But then, it was devoured with an eager- 
ness, which even those who remember it can hardly realize. Let 
us glance hastily over its pages. 

The editor explained the 'objects and" scope' of the little paper, 
tbus : — 

" The Log_Cabin will be a zealous and unwavering advocate of 
the rights, interests and prosperity of our whole country, but es- 
pecially those of the hardy subduers and cultivators of her soil. It 
will be the advocate of the cause of the Log Cabin against that of 
the Custom House and Presidential Palace. It will be an advocate 
of the interests of unassuming industry against the schemes and 
devices of functionaries ' drest in a little brief authority,' whose 
/ salaries are trebled in value whenever Labor is forced to beg for em- 
ployment at three or four shillings a day. It Avill be the advocate of 
a sound, uniform, adequate Currency for our whole country, against 
the visionary projects and ruinous experiments of the official Dous- 
terswivels of tlie day, who commenced by promising Prosperity, 
Abundance, and Plenty of Gold as the sure result of their policy; 
and lo! we have its issues in disorganization, bankruptcy, low 
wages and treasury rags. In fine, it will be the advocate of Free- 
dom, Improvement, and of National Reform, by the election of 
Harrison and Tyler, the restoration of purity to the government, of 
efficiency to the public will, and of Better Times to tho People. 
8uch are the objects and scope of the Log Cabin." 

Tho contents of tlie Log Cabin were of various kinds. The first 
page was devoted to Literature of an exclusively Tippecanoe charac- 
ter, such as " Sketch of Gen. Harrison," " Anecdote of Gen. Har 
rison," "General Harrison's Creed," "Slanders on Gen. Harrison re 
futed," "Meeting of the Old Soldiers," &c. The first number h&C 
twenty-eight articles and paragraphs of this description. The sec- 



A GLAXCK AT ITS PAGES. 149 

:)n(] page contained editorials and correspondence. Tlie third waa 
wliere the "Splendid "Victories," and "Unprecedented Triiiinplis," 
were recorded. The fourth page contained a Tippecanoe song -with 
music, and a few articles of a miscellaneous character. Dr. Chan- 
ning's lectuie npoi* the Elevation of the Laboring Classes ran 
through several of tlie early numbers. Most of the numbers con- 
tain an engraving or two, plans of General Harrison's battles, por- 
traits of the candidates, or a caricature. One of the caricatures 
represented Van Bureu caught in a trap, and over the picture waa 
the following explanation: — " The New Era has prepared and 
pictured a Log Cabin Trap, representing a Log Cabin — set as a 
figure-4-trap, and baited with a barrel of hard cider. By the follow- 
ing it will be seen that the trap has been speu>'g, and a sly nibbler 
from Kinderhook is looking out through the gratings. Old Hickory 
is intent on prying him out; but it is manifestly no go." The 
editorials of the Log Cabin Avere mostly of a serious and argument- 
ative cast, upon the Tariff, the Currency, and the Hard Times. 
They were able and timely. The spirit of the campaign, however, 
is contained in the other departments of the paper, from which a 
few brief extracts may amuse the reader for a moment, as well as 
illustrate the feeling of the time. 

The Log Cabins that were built all over the country, were 
' raised ' and inaugurated with a great show of rejoicing. In one 
number of the paper, there are accounts of as many as six of these 
hilarious ceremonials, with their speechifyings and hard-cider drink- 
ings. The humorous paragraph annexed appears in an early num- 
ber, under the title of " Thrilling Log Cabin Incident :" — 

" The whigs of Erie, Pa., raised a Log Cabin last week from which the ban 
ncr :f Harrison and Reform was dbplayed. While engaged in the dedica- 
tion of their Cabin, the whigs received information which led them to appre* 
hend a hostile demonstration from Harbor Creek, a portion of the borough 
whoso citizens had ever been strong Jackson and Van Buren men. Soon after- 
wards a party )f horsemen, about fortyin number, dressed in Indian costume, 
armed with tomahawks and scalpicg knives, approached the Cabin! Th* 
whigs made prompt preparations to defend theii oanner. The scene became in- 
tensely exciting. The assailants rode up to the Cabin, dismounted, and surren- 
dered themselves up as voluntary prisoners of war. On inquiry, they proved tc 
b« stanch Jackson men from Ila-bor Creek, who had taken that a ode of array- 



150 THE LOG CABIN. 

ing themselves under the Harrison Bakxer ! The tomahawk was thcnbur 
ied ; after which the string of the latch iras pushed out, and the Harbor-Creek 
ers were ushered into the Cabin, where they pledged their support to Harri- 
son in a bumper of good old hard cider." 

Tlie great joker of that electioD, as of every other since, was Mr. 
Prentice, of the Louisville Journal, the wittiest of editors, living or 
(lead. Many of his good things appear in tlie Log Cabin, but most 
ot them allude to men and events that have been forgotten, and- the 
point of the joke is lost. The following are three of the Log Cab- 
in jokes ; they sparkled in 1840, flat as they may seem now : — 

" The Globe says that ' there are but two parties in the country, the pcoi 
man's party and the rich man's party,' and that ' Mr. Van Euren is the friend 
of the former.' The President is certainly in favor of strengthening the poor 
man's party, numerically ! lie goes for impoverishing the whole country — 
except the office-holders." 

" What do the locofocos expect by vilifying the Log Cabin ? Do they not 
know that a Log Cabin is all the better for being daubed with mud ?" 

" A whig passing through the streets of Boston a few mornings ago, espied 
a custom-house officer gazing ruefully at a bulletin displaying the latest news 

of the Maine election. ' Ah! Mr. , taking yuar bitters this morning, 

I see.' The way the loco scratched gravel was a pattern for sub-treasurers." 

One specimen paragraph from the department of political news 
will sufBce to show the frensT/ of those who wrote for it. A letter- 
writer at Utica, describing a 'mass meeting' in that cit}', bu^^ts up- 
on his readers in this style: 

" This has been the proudest, brightest day of my life ! Never — no, never 
have I before seen the people in their majesty! Never were the foundations 
of popular sentiment so broken up ! The scene from early dawn to sunset, 
has been one of continued, increasing, bewildering enthusiasm. The hearts cf 
TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND FREEMEN have been Overflowing with gratitude, and 
gladness, and joy. It has been a day of jubilee — an era of deliverance 
FOB Central New York I The people in waves have poured in from the val- 
Veys and rushed down from the mountains. The city has been vocal with elo- 
quence, with rausii!, and with ao lamations. Demonstrations of strength, and em 
blems of victory, and harbingers of prosperity are all around us, cheering and 
animating, and assuring a people who are finally and effectually aroused. I wiU 
Dot now attempt to desoibe the procession of the people. Suffice it to say that 



LOG CABIN SONGS. l~)\ 

Ihere was an ocoan of thorn ! The procession was over fi\ e miles long. * 
* * Governor Seward and Lieut. Gov. Bradish were unanimously noinina- 
led by resolution for re-election. The result was communicated to the people 
nsfsembled in Mass in Chancery Square, whoso response to the nomination was 
spontaneous, loud, deep and resounding." 

Tlie profusion of the presidential mansion was one of the stand- 
ing topics of those who wished to eject its occupant. In one num- 
ber of tlie Log-Cabin is a speech, delivered in the House of Repre- 
sentatives by a member of *the opposition, in which the bills of the 
persons who supplied the White House are given at length. Take 
tliese specimens: 

34 table knives ground, Sl,37j 

2 new knife blades, "o 

2 cook's knife blades, 2,50 

4,62^ 

2 dozen brooms, $3,75 

1-2 do. hard scrubs, 2,37 

1-2 do. brooms 1,33 

6,50 

2 tin buckets 82,00 

Milk strainer and skimmer 92^ 

Chamber bucket, 2,00 

2 dozen tart pans, 2,50 

Tl2i 

This seems like putting an extremely fine point upon a political ar 
gument. "What the orator wished to show, however, was, that such 
articles as the above ought to be paid for out of the presidential 
ealary, not the public treasury. The speech exliibited some columns 
of these ' house-bills.' It made a great sensation, and was enough 
to cure any deceni man of a desire to become a servant of the 
people. 

But, as I have observed, Gen. Harrison was sung into the presi- y 
ilential chair. The Log Cabin preserves a large number ol die politi- 
cal ditties of the time ; the editor himself contributing two. A very 
tew stanzas will sufllce to show the quality of the Tippecanoe poetry 
The following is one from the 'Wolverine's Song'.* 



152 THE LOG CABIN. 

We know that Van Buren can ride in his coach, 
With servants, forbidding the Vulgar's approach — 
We know that his fortune such things will allow, 
And we know that our candidate follows the plough ; 
But what if he does 7 Who was bolder to fight 
In Ms country's defense on that perilous night, 
When naught save his valor sufficed to subdue 
Our foes at the battle of Tippecanoe ? 

Hurrah for Tippecanoe ! 
He dropped the red locos at Tippecanoe ! 

From the song of the 'Buckeye Cabin,' these are two stanza* i 

Oh ! where, tell me where, was your Buckeye Cabiu made 1 
Oh ! where, tell me where, was your Buckeye Cabin made 1 
'Twas made among the merry boys that wield the plough and spade 
Where the Log Cabins stand in the bonnie Buckeye shade. 

Oh ! what, tell me what, is to be your Cabin's fate 1 
Oh! what, tell me what, is to be your Cabin's fate? 
We 'II wheel it to the Capitol and pla<ce it there elate, 
For a token and a sign of the bonnie Buckeye State. 

The ' Tarn Out Song ' -was very popular, and easy to sing : 

From the White House, now Matty, turn out, turn out, 
From the White House, now Matty, turn out ! 

Since there you have been 

No peace we have seen, 
So Matty, now please to turn out, turn out, 
So Matty, now please to turn out ! 

Make way for old Tip ! turn out, turn out ! 
Make way for old Tip, turn out ! 
'Tis the people's decree, 
Their choice he shall be, 
So, Martin Van Buren, turn out, turn out, 
So, Martin Van Buren, turn out! 

But cf all the songs ever sung, the most absurd and the most tel* 
ing, was that which began thus : 



LOG CABIN S0XG8. 153 

What has cau»eJ this great commotion-motion-motion 
Our country through 1 
It is the ball a-roUing on 
For Tippecanoe and Tyler too, 
For Tippecanoe and Tyler too ; 
And with them we '11 beat little Van ; 
Van, Van, Van is a used-up man, 
And with them wo '11 beat Little Van. 

Tills song Lad two advan .ages. The tune — half chant, half 
jig — was adapted to bring out all the absurdities of the words, and, 
in particular, tliose of the last two lines. The second advantage 
was, that stanzas could be multiplied to any extent, on the spot, to 
suit the exigences of any occasion. For example : 

'.' Tho beautiful girls, God bless their souls, souls, souls, 
The country through, 
Will all, to a man, do all they can 
For Tippecanoe and Tyler too; 
And with them," etc., etc. 

During that summer, ladies attended the mass meetings in thou- 
sands, and in their honor the lines just quoted were frequently sung. 

These few extracts from the Log Cabin show the nature of the 
element in which our editor was called upon to work in the hot 
months of 18-iO. His own interest in the questions at issue was in- 
tense, and his labors were incessant and most arduous. He wrote 
articles, he made speeches, he sat on committees, he traveled, 
he gave advice, he suggested plans; while he had two news- 
papers on his hands, and a load of debt upon his shoulders. His 
"was a willing servitude. From the days of his apprenticeship he 
had observed the course of 'Democratic' administrations with dis- 
gust and utter disapproval, and he had borne his full sliare of the 
consequences of their bad measures. His whole soul was in tbia 
contest. He fought fairly too. His answer to a correspondent, that 
'articles assailing tlio personal character of Mr. Van Bureu or any 
of his supporters cannot be pubhshed in the Cabin,' was in advance 
of the politics of 1840. 

One scene, if it could be portrayed on the printed page as visiblj 
as it exists in the m(>raories of those who witnessed it, would show 



154 rilE LOG CABIS. 

better than declaratory words, how ahsorled Mr. Greeley was in 
politics during this famous 'campaign.' It is a funny story, and 
literally true. 

Time, — Sunday evening. Scene, — the parlor of a friend's house. 
Company, — numerous and political, except tlie ladies, who are 
gracious and hospitable. Mr. Greeley is expected to tea, but does 
not come, and the mea^ is transacted without him. Tea over, ho 
arrives, and plunges headlong into a conversation on the currency. 
The lady of the Louse thinks he ' had better take some tea,' but 
cannot get a hearing on the subject ; is distressed, puts the question 
at length, and has her invitation hurriedly declined ; brushed aside, 
in fact, with a wave of the hand. 

" Take a cruller, any way," said she, handing him a cake-basket 
containing a dozen or so of those unspeakable, Dutch iudigestibles. 

The expounder of the currency, dimly conscious that a large ob- 
ject was approaching him, puts forth his hands, still vehemently 
talking, and takes, not a cruller, but the cake-basket, and deposits 
it in his lap. The company are inwardly convulsed, and some of 
the weaker members retire to the adjoining apartment, the ex- 
pounder continuing his harangue, unconscious of their emotions or 
its cause. Minutes elapse. His hands, in their wandering through 
the air, come in contact with the topmost cake, which they take 
and break. He begins to eat ; and eats and talks, talks and eats, 
till he has finished a cruller. Then he feels for anotlier, and eats 
that, and goes on, slowly consuming the contents of the basket, till 
the last crum is gone. The company look on amazed, and the kind 
lady of the house fears for the consequences. Slie had heard that 
cheese is an antidote to indigestion. Taking the empty cake- 
basket from his lap, she silently puts a plate of cheese in its place, 
hoping that instinct will guide his hand aright. The experiment 
succeeds. Gradually, the blocks of white new cheese disappear. 
Slie removes the plate. No ill consequences follow. Those who 
caw tliis sight are fixed in the belief, that Mr. Greeley was not 
then, nor has since become, aware, that on that evening he par- 
took of sustenance. 

The reader, perhaps, has concluded that the prodigious sale of 
the Log Cabin did something to relieve our hero from his pecuniarj 
embarrassments. Such was 2iot the fact He paid some debts 



THE CAKE-BASKET. 155 

i^ut he incurred otlicrs, ami Avas not, for nny week, free froia 
auxiety. The price of tho paper was h)\v, an.1 its unlooked-for sale 
jnvolved the proprietors in expenses which miglit have been avoid- 
ed, or much lessened, if they had been prepared for it. The mail- 
ing of single numbers cost a hundred dollars. The last number of 
the campaign series, the great "O K" number, the number that 
was all staring with majorities, and capital letters, and points of 
admiration, the number that announced tiie certain triumph of tho 
Whigs, and carried joy into a thousand Log Cabins, contained a 
most moving "Appeal" to the "Friends who owe us." It was in 
small type, and in a corner remote from tlie victorious columns. It 
ran thus ; — " "We were induced in a few instances to depart from 
our general rule, and forward the first series of the Log Cabin 
on credit — having in almost every instance a promise, that the 
money should be sent us before the first of November. That 
time has passed, and we regret to say, that many of tlio.se prom- 
ises have not been fulfilled. To tiiose who owe us, therefore, we 
are compelled to say. Friends ! we need our money — our paper- 
maker needs it! and has a riglit to ask us for it. The low price 
at which we have published it, forbids the idea of gain from this 
paper: we only ask the means of paying Avhat we owe. Once for 
all, we implore you to do us justice, and enable us to do the 
same." This tells the whole story. Not a word need be added. 

The Log Cabin was designed only for the campaign, and it was 
expected to exjiire with the twenty-seventh number. The zealous 
editor, however, desirous of presenting the complete returns of the 
victory, issued an extra number, and sent it gratuitously to all his 
subscribers. This number announced, also, that the Log Cabin 
would be resumed in a few weeks. On the fiftii of December the 
new series began, as a family political paper, and continued, with »^ 
/noderate success, till both it and the New Yorker were merged lu 
the Tribune. 

For his services in the campaign — and no man contributed at 
much to its success as he— Horace Greeley accepted no oflace ; 
nor did he even witness the inaugur.ition. This is not strange. 
But it is somewhat surprising that tlie incoming administration had 
not the decency to offer him something. ^Mr. Fry (W. II.) made a 
speech one evening at a political meetinir in Philadelphia. Th« 



156 THE LOG CABnr. 

next morning, a committee "waited upon liiin to k jow iiv what of- 
fice he intended to become an applicant. " Office ?" said the aston- 
ished composer — " 'No office." " Why, then," said the committee, 
'■'■wliat the h — II did you speak last night for .?" Mr. Greeley had 
not even the honor of a visit from a committee of this kind. 

The Log Cabin, however, gave him an immense reputation in all 
parts of the country, as an able writer and a zealous politiciaa--a 
reputiition which soon became more valuable to hi-Ji than pecuniary 
capital. The Log Cabin of April 3d contained the iatelligence of 
General Harrison's death ; and, among a few others, the following 
advertisement : 



"On Saturday, the tenth day of April instant, the Subscriber will publish 
the first number of a Xew Morning Journal of Politics, Literature, and Gen- 
eral Intelligence. 

"The Thibune, as its name imports, will labor to advance the interests of 
the People, and to promote their Moral, Socia\ and Political well-being. The 
immoral and degrading Police Pieports, Advertisements and other matter which 
have been allowed to disgrace the columns of our leading Penny Papers, will 
be carefullj- excluded from this, and no exertion spared to render it worthy of 
the hearty approval of the virtuous and refined, and a welcome visitant at the 
family fireside. 

" Earnestly believing that the political revolution which has callcl William 
Henry Harrison to the Chief Magistracy of the Nation was a triumph of 
Plight Reason and Public Good over Error and Sinister Ambition, the Tribune 
will give to the New Administration a frank and cordial, but manly and inde 
pendent support, judging it always by its acts, and commending those onlj 
BO far as they shall seem calculated to subserve the great end of all govern 
rcent — the welfare of the People. 

" The Tribune will be published every morning on a fair royal sheet — (size 
of the Log-Cabin and Evening Signal) — and transmitted to its (ity subscribers 
at the low price of one cent per copy. JIail subscribers, $4 per annum. It 
will contain the news by the morning's Southern Mail, which is contaiced in nc 
Jther Penny Paper. Subscriptions arc respectfully solicited by 

Horace Gheelev, 30 Ann St. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

STAETS THE TEIBUNE. 

Phe Capital— Tho Daily Press of New York in 1841— The Tribune appears— The Oioem 
unpropilious — The first week— Conspiracy to put down the Tribune— The T-ibune 
triumphs— Thomas SlcElralh— The Tribune alive— Industry of the Editors— The-' 
independence— Horace Greeley and Jolin Tyler — The Tribune a Fixed Fact. 

Wno furnished tlie capital? Horace Greeley. But he wa* 
scarcely solvent on tlie day of the Tribune's appearance. True; 
and yet it is no less the fact that nearly all the large capital required 
for the enterprise was supplied by him. 

A large capital is indispensable for the establishment of a good 
daily paper; but it need not be a capital of money. It may be a 
capital of reputation, credit, experience, talent, opportunity. Ilorace 
Greeley was trusted and admired by his party, and by many of the 
party to which he was opposed. In his own circle, he was known 
to be a man of incorruptible integrity — one who would pay his 
debts at any and at every sacrifice — one who was quite incapable of 
contracting an obligation which he was not confident of being able 
to discharge. In other words, his credit was good. He had talent 
and experience. Add to these a thousand dollars lent him by a 
friend, (.James Coggeshall,) and the evident need there was of just 
such a paper as the Tribune proved to be, and we have the capital 
upon which the Tribune started. All told, it was equivalent to a 
round fifty thousand dollars. 

In tiie present year, 1855, there are two hundred and three peri- 
odicals published in the city of New York, of which twelve ar« 
daily papers. In tlie year 18-il, the number of periodicals was one y 
hundred, and the number of daily papers twelve. The Courier and 
Enquirer, New York American, Express, and Commercial Adver- 
tiser were "Whig papers, at ten dollars a year. The Evening Post 
and Journal of Commerce, at the same price, leaned to the 'Demo- 
fratic' side of politics, the former avo^\edly, t,he latter not. Tht 

157 



158 STARTS THE TRIBUNE. 

Signal, Tatler, and Star were cheap papers, the first two neutral, tha 
latter dubious. The Herald, at two cents, was — the Herald! The 
Sun, a penny paper of immense circulation, was affectedly neutral, 
really 'Democratic,' and very objectionable for the gross character 
of many of its advertisements. A cheap paper, of the Whig school 
of pohtics, did not exist. On the 10th of April, 18-il, the Tribune 
appeared— a paper one-third the size of the present Tribune, pi ice 
one cent; office No. 30 Ann-street; Horace Greeley, editor and 
proprietor, assisted in the department of literary criticism, the flno 
arts, and general intelligence, by H. J. Raymond. Under its head- 
ing, the new paper bore, as a motto, the dying words of Harrison: 

•' I DESIRE TOU TO UNDERSTAND THE TRUE PRINCIPLES OF THE GOVEEN- 
UEXT. I WISn THEM CARRIED OUT. I ASK NOTHING MORE." 

The omens were not propitious. The appallingly sudden death 
of General Harrison, the President of so many hopes, the first of 
the Presidents who had died in office, had cast a gloom over the 
whole country, and a prophetic doubt over the prospects of the 
^Yhig party. 

The editor watched the preparation of his first number all night, 
nervous and anxious, withdrawing this article and altering that, and 
cever leaving the form till lie saw it, complete and safe, upon the 
j/iress. The morning dawned sullenly upon the town. "The sleety 
atmosphere," wrote Mr. Greeley, long after, " the leaden sky, the 
unseasonable wintriness, the general gloom of that stormy day, 
which Avitnessed the grand though mournful pageant whereby our 
city commemorated the blighting of a nation's hopes in the most 
untimely death of President Harrison, were not inaptly miniatured 
in his own prospects and fortunes. Having devoted the seven pre- 
ceding years almost wholly to the establishment of a w^eekly com- 
pend of literature and intelligence, (The New Yorker,) wherefrom, 
though widely circulated and warmly praised, he had received no 
other return than the experience and wider acquaintance thence 
accruing, he entered upon liis novel and most precarious enterprise, 
most slenderly provided with the external means of commanding 
subsistence and success in its prosecution. "With no partner or busi- 
ness associate, with inconsiderable pecuniary resources, and only a 
promise from pohtical friends of aid to the extent of two thousand 
dollars, of which but one half was ever realized, (and that long 



THE TKIBCXE ArPEARS. 159 

u>->!e repaid, but the sense of obligation to the far from \\ealtliy 
frienJ who made the loan is none the less fresh and ardent,) 'je un- 
dertook the enterprise — at all times and under any circumstances 
hazardous — of adding one more to the already amply extensive list 
of daily newspapers issued in this emporium, where the current 
expenses of such papers, already appalling, Avere soon to be doubled 
by rivalry, by stimulated competition, by the progress of business, 
(he complication of interests, and especially by the general diffusion 
of the electric telegraph, and where at least nineteen out of every 
twenty attempts to establish a new daily have proved disastrous 
failures. Manifestly, the prospects of success in this case were far 
from flattering." 

The Tribune began with about six hundred subscribers, procured 
by the exertions of a few of the editor's personal and political 
friends. Five thousand copies of tlie first number were printed, and 
"we found some difficulty in giving them away," says Mr. Greeley 
in the article just quoted. The expenses of the first week wero 
five hundred and twenty-five dollars ; the receipts, ninety-two dol- 
lars. A sorry prospect for an editor whose whole cash capital was 
a thousand dollars, and that borrowed. 

But the Tribune was a live paper. Fight was the word with it 
from the start ; Fight has been the Avord ever since ; Fight is the 
word this day ! If it had been let alone, it would not have died ; its 
superiority both in quantity and the quality of its matter to any other 
of the cheap papers would have prevented that catastrophe; but its 
progress was amazingly accelerated in the first days of its existence 
by the efforts of an enemy to put it down. That enemy was the 
Sun. 

'' The publisher of the Sun," wrote Park Benjamin in the Even- 
ing Signal, " has, during the last few days, got up a conspiracy to 
crusli the I^ew York Tribune. The Tribune was, from its incep- 
tion, very successful, and, in many instances, persons in the habit of 
taking the Sun, stopped that paper — wisely preferring a sheet which 
gives twice the amount of reading matter, and always contains 
the latest intelligence. This fact afforded sufficient evidence tc 
Beach, as it did to all others who were cognizant of the circum- 
stances, that tlie Tribune would, before the lapse of many weekp, 
supplant the Sun. To prevent this, and, if possible, to destroy th« 



160 STAKTS THE TRIBUNE. 

circulation of the Tribune altogetlier, an attempt was made tu bribfl 
the carriers to give up their routes ; fortunately this succeeded only 
in the cases of two men who were likewise carriers of the Sun 
In the next place, all the newsmen were threatened with being de^ 
prived of the Sun, if, in any instance, they were found selling the 
Tribune. But these efforts were not enough to gratify Beach. Hf 
instigated boys in his office, or others, to whip the boys engaged 
in selling the Tribune. No sooner was this fact ascertained at the 
3)ffice of the Tribune, than young men were sent to defend the 
sale of that paper. Tiiey had not been on their station long, be- 
fore a boy from the Sun office approached and began to flog the 
lad with the Tribune ; retributory measures were instantly resorted 
to; but, before a just chastisement was inflicted. Beach himself, 
and a man in his employ, came out to sustain their youthful emis- 
sary. The whole matter will,, we understand, be submitted to the 
proper magistrates." 

The public took up the quarrel with great spirit, and this was one 
reason of the Tribune's speedy and striking success. For three 
weeks subscribers poured in at the rate of three hundred a day ! 
It began its fourth week with an edition of six thousand ; its sev- 
enth week, with eleven thousand, which was the utmost that could 
be printed with its first press. The advertisements increased in 
proportion. The first number contained four columns; the twelfth, 
nine columns; the hundredth, thirteen columns. Triumph! tri- 
umph ! nothing but triumph I New presses capable of printing 
the astounding number of thirty-five hundred copies an hour are 
duly announced. The indulgence of advertisers is besouglit 'for 
this day only ;' ' to-morrow, their favors shall appear.' The price 
of advertising was raised from four to six cents a line. Letters of 
approval came by every mail. " We have a number of requests," 
fcaid tl]e Editor in an early paragraph, " to blow up all sorts of 
abuses, which shall be attended to as fast as possible." In another, 
he returns his thanks " to the friends of this paper and the princi- 
ples it upholds, for the addition of over a thousand substantia] 
names to its subscription list last week." Again : " The Sun is rush- 
ing rapidly to destruction. It has lost even the groveling sagacity, 
the vulgar sordid instinct with which avarice once gifted it." 
Again: "Everythmg appears to work well with us. True, w« 



COXSPIRACV TO PUT DOWN THE TRIBUNE. 16J 

have liOt beard (except tlirougli the veracious Sun) from any gen- 
tlemen proposing to give us a $2,500 press ; but if any gentlemen 
have such an iutention, and proceed to put it in practice, the pub- 
Jio may rest assured that they -will not be ashamed of the act, while 
wo shall bo most eager to proclaim it and acknowledge the kind- 
ness. But even though we wait for such a token of good- will and 
»v:npatliy until the Sun shall cease to be the slimy and venomous 
.nstrument of loco-focoism it is, Jesuitical and deadly in politics and 
groveling in morals — we shall be abundantly sustained and cheered 
Ly the support we are regularly receiving." Editors wrote in the 
English language in those days. Again : " The Sun of yesterday 
gravely informed its readers tliat ' It is doiibtful whether the Land 
Bill can pass the House.'' The Tribune of the same date contained 
the news of the jyassage of that very bill !" Triumph ! saucy tri- 
umph ! nothing but triumph ! 

One thing only was wanting to secure the Tribune's brilliant suc- 
cess ; and that was an efficient business partner. Just in the nick 
of time, the needed and predestined man appeared, the man of all 
others for the duty required. On Saturday morning, July 81st, the 
following notices appeared under the editorial head on the second 
page: 

Tho undersigned has great pleasure in annou.ieing to his friends and th« 
public that he has formed a copartnership with Thomas McElrath, and 
that The Tribune will hereafter be published by himself and Mr. M. under 
the firm of GREELEY & McELRATII. The principal Editorial charge of 
the paper will still rest with the subscriber ; while the entire business man- 
agement of the concern henceforth devolves upon his partner. This arrange- 
ment, while it relieves the undersigned from a large portion of the labors and 
cares which have pressed heavily upon him for the last four months, assures 
to the paper efficiency and strength in a department where tlicy have hitherto 
been needed; and I cannot be mistaken in the trust that the accession to its 
conduct of a gentleman who has twice been honored with their suffrages for 
an important station, will strengthen The Tribune in the confidence and 
affections of the Whigs of New York. Respectfully, 

July 31st. IIoRACE Greeley. 

The undersigned, in connecting himself with the conduct of a public jour- 
nal, invokes a continuance of that courtesy and good feeling which has been 
Ixtended to him by his fellow-citizens. Ilaving heretofore received evidenca 
»f kindross and regard from the conductors of the Whig press of this city 
11 



IG2 STARTS THE TRIBUNE. 

unci rejoicing in the friendship of most of tnem, it will be his aim in his new 
vocation to justify that kindness and strengthen and increase those friendships. 
Uis hearty concurrence in the principles, Political and Mora], on which Thb 
Tribune has thus far been conducted, has been a principal incitement to the 
connection Aere announced ; and the statement of this fact will preclude the 
necessity '.f any special declaration of opinions. AVith gratitude for past 
favors, J>xvi an anxious desire to merit a continuance of regard, he remains, 
The Public's humble servant, Thomas McElrath, 



A <irrict disciplinarian, a close calculator, a man of metlici and 
ordftf. experienced in business, Mr. McElrath possessed in an emi- 
nent degree the very qualities in which the editor of the Tribune 
was most deficient. Roll Horace Greeley and Thomas McElrath 
Into one, and the result would be, a very respectable approximation 
to a Perfect Man. The two, united in partnership, have been able 
to produce a very respectable approximation to a perfect newspa- 
per. As Damon and Pythias are tlie types of perfect friendship, 
so may Greeley and McElrath be of a perfect partnership; and one 
may say, with a sigh at the many discordant unions the world pre- 
sents, Oh ! that every Greeley could find his McElrath ! and bless- 
ed is the McElrath that finds his Greeley ! 

Under Mr. McElrath's direction, order and efficiency were soon 
introduced into the business departments of the Tribune office. It 
became, and has ever since been, one of the best-conducted news- 
paper establishments in the world. Early in the fall, the New 
Yorker and Log Cabin were merged into the Weekly Tribune, the 
first number of which appeared on the 20th of September. Tlio 
concern, thus consolidated, knew, thenceforth, nothing but prosi)er- 
ity. The New Yorker had existed seven years and a half; tiie Log 
Cabin, eighteen months. 

The Tribune, I repeat, was a live paper. It was, also, a variously 
interesting one. Its selections, which in the early volumes occupied 
several columns daily, were of high character. It gave the philos- 
ophers of the Dial an ample hearing, and many an appreciating 
notice. It made liberal extracts from Carlyle, Cousin, and others, 
whose works contained the spirit of the New Time. The eighth 
number gave fifteen songs from a new volume of Thomas Moore 
Barnaby Rudge was published entire in the first volume. Mr. Ray- 
mond's notices of new books were a conspicuous and interesting fea* 



ITS INDEPENDENCE. 



1G3 



iure. Still more so, were liis clear and able sketclies aiul reports ot 
public lectures. In November, the Tribune gave a fair and cour- 
teous report of tlie Millerite Convention. Ahouc the same time, Mr. 
Greeley himself reported the cclebrate'l McLeod trial at Utica, 
trending on from four to nine columns a day. 

Amazing was the industry of the editors. Single numbers of tho 
Tribune contained eiglity editorial paragraphs. Mr. Greeley's aver- 
Mgc day's work was three columns, equal to fifteen pages of foolscap ; 
find tlie mere wiiting wliicli an editor does, is not half his daily 
labor. In Mai, appeared a series of articles on Retrenchment and 
lieforrn in the City Government, a subject upon which the Tribune 
has since shed a considerable number of barrels of ink. In the 
same month, it disturbed a hornet's nest by saying, that " the whole 
moral atmosphere of tlie Theater, as it actually exists among us, is 
in our judgment unwholesome, and therefore, while we do not pro- 
pose to war upon it, Ave seek no alliance with it, and cannot con- 
scientiously urge our readers to visit it, as would be expected if 
we were to solicit and profit by its advertising patronage." 

Down came all the hornets of the press. The Sun had the eflfront- 
ery to assert, in reply, that " most of the illegitimate births in New 
York owe their origin to acquaintances formed at 'Evening 
Ciiurches,' and tliat 'Class-meetings' have done Tnore to people the 
House of Refuge than twenty times the number of theaters." This 
discussion might have been turned to great advantage by the 
Tribune, if it had not, with obstinate honesty, given the re- 
ligious world a rebuff by assertmg its right to advertise heretical 
books. 

"As to our friend," said the Tribune, "who complains of the 
advertising of certain Theological works which do not square witli 
liis o[)inions, we must tell him plainly that he is unreasonable. Ko 
other pai)er that we ever heard of establishes any test ol the Or- 
thodoxy of works advertised in its cohnnns; even the Commercial 
Advertiser and Journal of Commerce advertise for the very sect 
proscribed by him. If one were to attempt a discrimination, wliere 
would he end ? One man considers Universalism immoral ; but 
another is equally positive that Arminianism is so; Mhile a third 
holds the same bad opinion of Calvinism. Who shall decide be- 
tween them] Certainly not the Editor of a daily news[)aper, ud 



1C4 STARTS THE TRIBUNE. 

less Lft prints it avowedly under the patronage of a particular sect 
Our friend inquires whether we should advertise intidel books also 
We answer, that if any one should offer an advertisement of lewd, 
ribald, indecent, blasphemous or law-prohibited books, we should 
claim the right to reject it. But a work no otherwise objection- 
able than as controverting the Christian record and doctrine, would 
not be objected to by us. True Christianity neither fears refutation 
nor dreads discussion — or, as Jefferson has forcibly said, 'Error 
of opinion may be tolerated where Reason is left free to combat 
it.' " 

/ In politics, the Tribune was strongly, yet not blindly whig. It 
appealed, in its first number, to the whig party for support. The 
same number expressed the decided opinion, that Mr. Tyler would 
prove to be, as president, all that the whigs desired, and that 
opinion the Tribune was onfc of the last to yield. In September 
it justified Daniel Webster in retaining office, after the ' treachery' 
of Tyler was manifest, and when all his colleagues had resigned in 
disgust. It justified him on the ground that he could best bring to 
a conclusion the Ashburton negotiations. This defense of Web- 
ster was deeply offensive to the more violent whigs, and it remain- 
ed a pretext of attack on the Tribune for several years. With 
regard to his course in the Tyler controversy, Mr. Greeley wrote 
in 184:5 a long explanation, of which the material passage was as 
follows: — "In December, 1841, I visited Washington upon assur- 
ances that John Tyler and his advisers were disposed to return to 
the Whig party, and that I could be of service in bringing about a 
complete reconciliation between the Administration and the Whigs 
in Congress and in the country. I never proposed to 'connect 
myself with the cause of the Administration,' but upon the under- 
standing that it should be heartily and faithfully a Whig Adminis- 
tration. * * Finally, I declined utterly and absolutely, to ' ccr: - 
nect myself with the cause of the Administration' the moment 1 
became satisfied, as I did during that visit, that the Chief of the 
Government did not desire a reconciliation, upon the basis of sus- 
taining Whig principles and Whig measures, with the party he 
had 80 deeply wronged, but was treacherously coqueting with Lo- 
ro-Focoism, and fooled with the idea of a re-election." 
Agairst Repudiation, then an exciting topic, the Tribune wenf 



THE TRIBUNE AND FOUKIERISM. 1G5 

clead in many a telling article. In belialf of Protection to Ameri. 
can- InduslP}', tlie editor wrote columns upon columns. 

In a word, the Tribune ■was equal to its opportunity ; it lived 
np to its privileges. In every department it steadily and strikingly 
improved throughout the year. It began its second year v,'hh 
twelve thousand subscribers, and a daily average of thirteen col- 
nmns of advertisements. Tlie Tribune was a Fixed Fact. 

The history of a daily paper is the history of the world. It is 
obviously impossible in the compass of a work like this to give 
anything like a complete history of the Tribune. For that pur- 
pose ten octavo volumes would be required, and most interesting 
volumes they would be. All that I can do is to select the leading 
events of its history which were most intimately connected with 
the history of its editor, and dwell with some minuteness upon 
them, connecting them together only by a slender thread of nar- 
rative, and omitting even to mention many things of real interest. 
It will be convenient, too, to group together in separate chapters 
events similar in their nature, but far removed from one another 
in the time of their occurrence. Indeed, I am overwhelmed with 
the mass of materials, and must struggle out as best I can. 

A great book is a great evil, says the Greek Eeader. This book 
was fore-ordained to be a small one. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

IHE TRIBUNE AND FOUKIERISM. 

WTiat made Horace Greeley a Socialist — The hard winter of 1838 — Albert Brisbane- 
Tbe subject broached— Series of articles by Jlr. Brisbane begun — Their effect — Cry 
of Mad Dog — Discussion between Horace Greeley and Henry J. Raymond — How it 
arose— ■Vbstract of it in a conversational form. 

Tbb editor of the Tribune was a Socialist years before the Tri- 
bune came into existence. 
The winter of 1838 was unusually severe. The times were hard, 



• 



166 TDE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

fnel and food were dear, many thousands of men and women Avere 
out of employment, and there was general distress. As the cold 
months wore slowly on, the sufferings of tlie poor became so aggra- 
vated, and the number of the unemployed increased to such a de- 
gree, that the ordinary means were inadequate to relieve even those 
who were destitute of every one of the necessaries of life Sduie 
died of starvation. Some were frozen to death. Many, through 
exposure and privation, contracted fatal diseases. A huye number, 
who had never before known want, were reduced tc beg. Ee- 
spectable mechanics Avere known to offer their services as waiters 
in eating-houses for their food only. There never had been such a 
time of suffering in New York before, and there has not been since. 
Extraordinary measures were taken by the comfortable classes to 
alleviate the sufferings of their unfortunate fellow-citizens. Meet- 
ings were held, subscriptions were made, committees were appoint- 
ed ; and upon one of the committees Horace Greeley was named to 
serve, and did serve, faithfully and laboriously, for many weeks. 
The district wliich his committee had in charge was the Sixth Ward, 
the 'bloody' Sixth, the squalid, poverty-stricken Sixth, the pool into 
which all that is worst in this metropolis has a tendency to reel and 
shde. It was his task, and that of his colleagues, to see that no one 
froze or starved in that forlorn and polluted region. More than this 
they could not do, for the subscriptions, liberal as they were, were 
not more than sufhcient to reheve actual and pressing distress. In 
the better parts of the Sixth "Ward a large number of mechanics 
lived, whose cry was, not for the bread and the fuel of charity, but 
for Work ! Charity their honest souls disdained. Its food choked 
them, its fire chilled them. Work, give us Avork ! Avas their eager, 
passionate demand. 

All this Horace Greeley heard and saw. lie was a young man — 
not quite twenty-six — compassionate to weakness, generous to a 
fault. He had knoAvn Avhat it Avas to beg for Avork, from shop to 
shop, from tOAvn to town ; and, that very Avinter, he Avas struggling 
with debt, at no safe distance from bankruptcy. Wliy must these 
things be? Are they inevitable? Will they always be inevitable? 
Is it in human Avisdom to devise a remedy? in human virtue to ap- 
ply it ? Can the beneficent God have designed this, Avho, Avith such 
Avonderful profusion, has provided for the wants, tastes, and luxuriea 



ALBERT BRISBANE. 167 

of all his creatures, and for a hundred times as many creatures as 
yet have lived at the same time? Such questions Horace Greeley 
pondered, in silence, in the depths of his heart, during that winter 
of misery. 

From Paris came soon the calm, emphatic answer, These things 
need not be ! They are due alone to the short-sightedness and in- 
justice of man ! Albert Brisbane brought the message. Horace 
Greeley heard and believed it. He took it to his heart. It 'jecame 
a part of him. 

Albert Brisbane was a young gentleman of liberal education, the • 
son of wealthy parent'. His European tour included, of course, a 
residence at Paris, where the fascinating dreams of Fourier were 
the subject of conversation. He procured the works of that ami- 
able and noble-minded man, read them with eager interest, and be- 
came completely convinced that his captivating theories were capa- 
ble of speedy realization — not, perhaps, in slow and conservative 
Europe, but in progressive and unshackled America. He returned 
home a Fourierite, and devoted himself with a zeal and disinterest- 
edness that are rare in the class to which he belonged, and that in 
any class cannot be too highly praised, to the dissemination of the 
doctrines in which he believed. He wrote essays and pamphlets. 
He expounded Fourierism in conversation. He started a magazine 
called the Fu^e, devoted to the explanation of Fourier's plans, 
published by Greeley & Co. He delivered lectures. In short, he 
did all that a man could do to make known to his fellow men what 
he believed it became them to know. He made a few converts, 
but only a few, till the starting of the Tribune gave him access to 
the public ear. 

Horace Greeley made no secret of his conversion to Fourierism. 
Ou the contrary, he avowed it constantly in private, and occasion 
ally in public print, though never in his own paper till towards the 
end of the Tribune's first year. His native sagacity taught him that 
before Fourierism could be realized, a complete revolution in pub- 
lic sentiment must be etfected, a revolution which would requiio 
many years of patient effort on the part of its advocates. 

The first mention of Mr. Brisbane and Fourierism in the Tribune, 
appeared October 21st, 1841. It was merely a notice of one ot 
Mr. Brisbane's lectures : 



THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

" Mr. A. Brisbane delivered a lecture at the Stiiyvesant Institute last evening 
upon the Genius of Christianity considered in its bearing on the Social Insti. 
tutions and Terrestrial Destiny of the Human Race. He contended that the 
mission of Christianity upon earth has hitherto been imperfectly understood, 
and that the doctrines of Christ, carried into practical effect, would free the 
tvorld of Want, Misery, Temptation and Crime. This, Mr. B. believes, will be 
effected by a system of Association, or the binding up of indiTidual and fam- 
ily interests in Social and Industrial Communities, wherein all faculties may 
be developed, all energies usefully employed, all legitimate desires satisfied, 
and idleness, want, temptation and crime be annihilated. In such Associa- 
tions, individual property will be maintained, the family be held sacred, and 
every inducement held out to a proper ambition. Mr. B. will lecture hereafter 
on the practical details of the system o{ Fourier, of whom he is a zealous dis- 
ciple, and we shall then endeavor to give a more clear and full account of hia 
doctrines." 

A mouth later, the Tribune copied a flippant and sneering arti- 
cle from the London Times, on the subject of Fourierisra in France. 
In his introductory remarks the editor said: 

" We have written something, and shall yet write much more, in illustra- 
tion and advocacy of the great Social revolution which our age is destined to 
commence, in rendering all useful Labor at once attractive and honorable, 
and banishing Want and all consequent degradation from the globe. The 
germ of this revolution is developed in the writings of Charles Fourier, a phil- 
anthropic and observing Frenchman, who died in 1837, after devoting thirty 
years of a studious and unobtrusive life to inquiries, at once patient and pro- 
found, into the causes of the great mass of Social evils whi^h overwhelm Hu- 
manity, and the true means of removing them. These means he proves to be 
a system of Industrial and Household Association, on the principle of Joint 
Stock Investment, whereby Labor will be ennobled and rendered attractive 
and universal, Capital be offered a secure and lucrative investment, and Tal- 
ent and Industry find appropriate, constant employment, and adequate re- 
ward, while Plenty, Comfort, and the best means of Intellectual and Moral 
Improvement is guaranteed to all, regardless of former acquirements or con- 
dition. This grand, benignant plan is fully developed in the various works 
of M. Fourier, which are abridged in the single volume on ' The Social Des- 
tiny of Man,' by Mr. A. Brisbane, of this State, ypome fifteen or sixteen other 
works in illustration and defense of the system have been given to the world, 
by Considerant, Chevalier, Paget, and other French writers, and by Hugh Do- 
herty, Dr. H. McCormack. and others in English. A tri-weekly journal (' La 
Phalange^) devoted to the system, is published by M. Victor Considerant io 



SERIES OF ARTICLES BY MR. BUISBANE BEGUN. 1G9 

Paris, and another (the London Phalanx') by Hugh Doherty, in London, 
each ably edited." 

Early in 1842, a number of gentlemen^ associated themselves to- 
gether for the purpose of bringing the schemes of Fourier fully and 
prominently before the public; and to this end, they purchased the 
right to occupy one column daily on the first page of the Tribune 
with an article, or articles, on the subjecr, from the pen of Mr. 
Brisbane The first of these articles appeared on the first of March, 
1842, and continued, with some interruptions, at first daily, after- 
wards three times a week, till about the middle of 1844, when Mr. 
Brisbane went again to Europe. The articles were signed with the 
letter B, and were known to be communicated. They were calm 
in tone, clear in exposition. At first, they seem to have attracted 
little attention, and less opposition. They were regarded (as far as 
my youthful recollection serves) in the light of articles to be skip- 
ped, and by most of the city readers of the Tribune, I presume, 
they were skipped with the utmost regularity, and quite as a matter 
of course. Occasionally, however, the subject was alluded to edi- 
torially, and every such allusion was of a nature to be read. Grad- 
ually, Fourierism became one of the topics of the time. Gradually 
certain editors discovered that Fourierism was unchristian. Grad- 
ually, the cry of Mad Dog arose. Meanwhile, the articles of Mr. 
Brisbane were having their effect upon the People. 

In May, 1843, Mr. Greeley wrote, and with perfect truth : 

" The Doctrine of Association is spreading throughout the country with a 
rapidity which we did not anticipate, and of which we had but little hope. 
Wa receive papers from nearly all parts of the Northern and Western States, 
and some from the South, containing articles upon Association, in which gen- 
eral views and outlines of the System are given. They speak of the subject 
as one ' which is calling public attention,' or, ' about which so much is now 
jaid,' or, 'which is a good deal spoken of in this part of the country,' Ac, 
showing that our Princiijles are becoming a topic of public discussion. From 
the rapid progress of our Doctrines during the past year, we look forward 
with hope to their rapid continued dissemination. We feel perfectly confident 
that never, in the history of the world, has a philosophical doctrine, or the plan 
of a great reform, spread with the rapidity which the Doctrine of Association 
has spread in the United States for the last year or two. There are now a 
l&Tgs number of papers, and quite a number of lecturers in various parts of 



yjQ THE TRIBUNE AND FOtJRIERISM. 

the country, who are lending their efforts to the cause, so that the onward 
movement must be greatly accelerated. 

"Small Associations are springing up rapidly in various parts of the coun- 
try. The Sylvania Association in Pike country. Pa., is now in operation ; 
' about seventy persons are on the domain, erecting buildings, &c., and prapar- 
"sng for the reception of other members. 

" An Association has been organized in Jefferson county. Our friend, A. 
JI. "Watson, is at the head of it; ho has been engaged for the last three years 
in spreading the principles in that part of the State, and the result is the 
formation of an Association. Several farmers have put in their farms and 
taken stock ; by this means the Domain has been obtained. About three 
hundred persons, we are informed, are on the land*. They have a very fine 
quarry on their Domain, and they intend, among the branches of Industry 
which they will pursue, to take contracts for erecting buildings out of the 
Association. They are now erecting a banking-house in AVatertown, near 
which the Association is located. 

" Efforts are making in various parts of thijs State, in Vermont, in Penn 
sylvania, Indiana, and Illinois, to establish Associations, which will probably 
be successful in the course of the present year. We have heard of these 
movements; there may be others of which we are not informed." 

About the same time, he gave a box on the ear to the editors who 
wrote of Fourierism in a hostile spirit: — "The kindness of our friends 
of the Few York Express, Rochester Evening Post, and sundry 
other Journals whicb appear inclined to wage a personal controversy 
with us respecting Fourierisra, (the Express without knowing how to 
spell the word,) is duly appreciated. Had we time and room for 
disputation on that subject, we would prefer opponents who would 
not be compelled to confess frankly or betray clearly their utter 
ignorance of the matter, whatever might be their manifestations of 
personal pique or malevolence in unfair representations of the little 
they do understand. We counsel our too belligerent friends to pos- 
sess their souls in patience, and not be too eager to rival the for- 
tune of him whose essay proving that steamships could not cross 
the Atlantic happened to reach us in the first steamship that did 
cross it. 'The proof of the pudding' is not found in wrangling 
about it." 

We also find, occasionally, a paragraph in the Tribune like this : 
"T. W. Whitley and H. Greeley will address such citizens of New- 
r.rk as choose to hear them on the subject of 'Association' at 7' 



DISCUSSION BETWEEN II. GREELEY AND 11. J. RAYMOND. 171 

o'clock tliis evening at the Relief Hall, rear of J. M. Quimby's Re- 
pository." 

Too fast. Too fast. I need not detail the progress of Fourier- 
Hin — the many attempts made to establish Associations — tlie failure 
of all of them but one, "which still exists — the ruin that ensued to 
many worthy men — the ridicule with which the Association ists were 
assailed — the odium excited in many minds against the Tribune — 
the final relinquishment of the subject. All this is perfectly well 
known to the people of this country. 

Let us come, at once, to the grand climax of the Tribune's Fou- 
rierism, the famous discussion of the subject between Horace Gree- 
ley and n. J. Raymond, of the Courier and Enquirer, in the year 
1846. That discussion finished Fourierism in the United States. 

Mr. Raymond had left the Tribune, and joined the Courier and 
Enquirer, at the solicitation of Col. Webb, the editor of the latter. 
It was a pity the Tribune let him go, for he is a born journalist, and 
could have helped the Tribune to attain the position of the great, 
only, undisputed Metropolitan Journal, many years sooner than it 
will. Uorace Greeley is not a born journalist. He is too much in 
earnest to be a perfect editor. He has too many opinions and pref- 
erences. He is a boen legislator, a Deviser of Remedies, a Sug- 
gester of Expedients, a Framer of Measures. The most successful 
editor is he whose great endeavor it is to tell tlie public all it wants 
to hioic, and whose comments on passing events best express the 
feeling of tlie country with regard to them. Mr. Raymond is 
not a man of first-rate talent — great talent would be in his way — 
he is most interesting when he attacks ; and of the varieties of 
composition, polished vituperation is not the most difticult. But 
he has the right notion of editing a daily paper, and when the Tri- 
bune lost him, it lost more than it had the sliglitest idea of— as 
events have since shown. 

However, Horace Greeley and Henry J. Raymond, the one nat- 
urally liberal, the other naturally conservative — the one a Uuiversal- 
ist, the other a Presbyterian — the one regarding the world as a 
place to be made better by living in it, the other regarding it as 
an oyster to be opened, and bent on opening it — would have found 
it hard to work together on equal terms. They separated amicably, 
and each went his way. The discussion of Fourierism arose thus ■ 



172 THE TRIBIXNE AND FOURIERISM. 

Mr Brisbane, on liis return from Europe, renewed the agitatioD 
of his subject. The Tribune of August 19th, 1846, contained a 
letter by him, addressed to the editors of the Courier and Enquirer, 
proposing several questions, to which answers were requested, 
respecting Social Eeform. The Courier replied. The Tribune re- 
joined editorially, and was answered in turn by tlie Courier. Mr. 
Brisbane addressed a second letter to the Courier, and sent it 
direct to the editor of that paper in manuscript. The Courier 
agreeil to publish it, if the Tribune would give place to its reply 
The Tribune declined doing so, but challenged the editor of the 
Courier to a public discussion of the whole subject. 

"Though we cannot now," wrote Mr. Greeley, "open our col 
umns to a set discussion by others of social questions (which may 
or may not refer mainly to points deemed relevant by us), we readily 
close with the sjJiVi^ of the Courier's proposition. * * As soon 
as the State election is fairly over — say Nov. 10th — we will pub- 
lish an entire article, filling a column of the Tribune, very nearly, 
in favor of Association as we understand it ; and, upon the Courier 
copying this and replying, we will give place to its reply, and re- 
spond ; and so on, till each party shall have publislied twelve articles 
on its own side, and twelve on the other, which shall fulfill the 
terms of this agreement. All the twelve articles of each party 
shall be published without abridgment or variation in the Daily, 
Weekly, and Semi-weekly editions of both papers. Afterward each 
party will, of course, be at liberty to comment at pleasure in liis 
own columns. In order that neither paper shall be crowded with 
this discussion, one article per week, only, on eitlier side, shall be 
published, unless the Courier shall prefer greater dispatch. Is not 
this a fair proposition? What says the Courier ? It has, of course, 
the advantage of the defensive position and of the last word." 

The Courier said, after much toying and dallying, and a pre- 
liminary skirmish of paragraphs, Cosie on! and, on the 20th of 
November, tlie Tribune came on. The debate lasted six months. 
It was conducted on both sides with spirit and ability, and it at- 
tracted much attention. The twenty-four articles, of which it con- 
eisted, Avere afterwards published by the Harpers in a pamphlet of 
eighty-three closely-printed, double-columned pages, which had a 
Bonsiderable sale, and has long been out of print. On one side 



ABSTRACT OF THE DISCUSSIOIT. 173 

we see earnestness and sincerity ; on tlie other tact and skill, 
One strove to convince, tlie other to triumph. Tlie thread of ar- 
gument is often lost in a maze of irrelevancy. The subject, in- 
deed, was peculiarly ill calculated for a public discussion. "When 
men converse on a scheme which has for its object the good of 
nankind, let them confer in awful whispers — apart, like conspir- 
ators, not distract themselves in dispute in the hearing of a nation ; 
for they who would benefit mankind must do it cither by stealth 
or by violence. 

I have tried to condense this tremendous pamphlet into the form 
and brevity of a conversation, with the following result. Neither 
of the speakers, however, are to be held responsible for the language 
employed. 

Horace Greeley. Kov. 20th. . The earth, tlie air, the waters, the 
sunshine, with their natural products, were divinely intended and 
appointed for the sustenance and enjoyment of the whole human 
family. But the present/tzc« is, that a very large majority of man- 
kind are landless ; and, by law, the landless have no inherent right 
to stand on a single square foot of their native State, except in the 
highways. Perishing with cold, they have no legal right to a stick 
of decaying fuel in the most unfrequented morass. Famishing, they 
liave no legal right to pluck and eat the bitterest acorn in the depths 
of the remotest forest. But the Past cannot be recalled. What^ 
has been done, has been done. The legal rights of individuals must. 
be held sacred. But those whom society has divested of their natu- 
ral right to a share in the soil, are entitled to Compemation, i. e. to 
continuous opportunity to earn a subsistence by Labor. To own 
land is to possess this opportunity. The majority own no land. 
Therefore the minority, who own legally all the land, whicli natu- 
rally belongs to all men alike, are bound to secure to the landless 
majority a compensating security of remunerating Labor. But, as 
society is now organized, this is not, and cannot be, done. " Work, 
work 1 give us something to do! anything that will secure us hon- 
est bread," is at this moment the prayer of not less than thirty 
thousand human beings within the sound of the City-IIall bell. 
Here is an enormous waste and loss. We must devise a remedy 
and that remedy, I propose to show, is found in Associatioa. 



>/ 174 



THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 



H. J. Eaymcmd. Is'ov. 23cZ. Heavens ! Here Ave Lave one of the 
leading Whig presses of New York advocating the doctrine that rui 
man can rightfully own land ! Fanny Wright was of that opinion. 
The doctrine is erroneous and dangerous. If a man cannot right- 
fiilly own land, he cannot rightfully own anything wliich the land 
produces; that is, he cannot rightfully own anything at all. The 
blessed institution of property, the basis of the social fabric, from 
which arts, agriculture, commerce, civilization spring, and without 
which the}^ could not exist, is threatened Avith destruction, and by 
a leading Whig paper too. Conservative Powers, preserve us ! 

Horace Greeley. Kov.2Uh. Fudge! What I said was this : So- 
ciety, having divested the majority of any right to the soil, is bound 
to compensate them by guaranteeing to each an opportunity of earn- 
ing a subsistence by Labor. Your vulgar, clap-trap allusion to Fan- 
ny Wright does not surprise me. I shall neither desert nor deny a 
truth because she, or any one else, has proclaimed it. But to pro- 
ceed. By association I mean a Social Order, which shall take the 
place of the present Township, to be composed of some hundreds 
or some thousands of persons, who shall be united together in inter- 
est and industry for the purpose of securing to each individual the 
following things : 1, an elegant and commodious house ; 2, an edu- 
cation, complete and thorough ; 3, a secure subsistence ; 4, oppor- 
tunity to labor ; 5, fair wages ; 6, agreeable social relations ; 7, prog- 
ress in knowledge and skill. As society is at present organized, 
these are the portion of a very small minority. But by association 
of capital and industry, they might become the lot of all ; inasmuch 
as association tends to Economy in all departments, economy in 
lands, fences, fuel, household labor, tools, education, medicine, legal 
advice, and commercial exchanges. My opponent will please ob- 
Berve that his article is three times as long as mine, and devoted in 
good part to telling the public that the Tribune is an exceedingly 
mischievous paper ; which is an imposition. 

E. J. Raymond. N'ov. 50th. A home, fair wages, education, etc., 
aro very desirable, we admit ; and it is the unceasing aim of all good 
men in society, as it now exists, to place those blessings within the 
reach of all. The Tribune's claim that it can be accomplished only 
by association is only a claim. Substantiate it. Give us proof oi 



ABSTRACT OF THE DISCUSSION. 175 

its eflB^acy. Tell v.s in Avhoin the property is to bo vested, ho'n 
labor is to be remunerated, what share capital is to have in the con- 
cern, by what device men are to be induced to labor, how moral 
otfenses are to be excluded or punished. Then we may be able to 
discuss the subject. Nothing was stipulated about the length of the 
articles ; and we do think the Tribune a mischievous paper. 

Horace Greeley. Dec. 1st. The property of an association will 
be vested in those Avho contributed the capital to establish it, repi*e- 
eented by shares of stock, just as the property of a bank, factory, or 
railroad now is. Labor, skill and talent, will be remunerated by a 
tixed proportion of their products, or of its proceeds, if sold. Men 
will be induced to labor by a knowledge that its rewards will be a 
certain and major proportion of the product, which of course will 
be less or more according to the skill and industry of each individ- 
ual. The slave has no motive to diligence except fear; the hireling 
is tempted to eye-service ; the solitary worker for himself is apt to 
become disheartened ; but men working for themselves, in groups, 
will find labor not less attractive than profitable. Moral otfenses 
will be punished by legal enactment, and they will bo rendered un 
frequent by plenty and education. 

H. J: Eaymond. Dec. 8th. Oh — then the men of capital are to 
own the land, are they? Let us see. A man with money enough 
may buy an entire domain of five thousand acres; men without 
money will cultivate it on condition of receiving a fixed proportion 
of its products ; the major part, says the Tribune ; suppose we say 
three-fourths. Then the contract is simply this: — One rich man 
(or company) ownsjite thousand acres of land, tchich he leases forever 
to two thousand poor men at the yearly rent of one-fourth of itt 
products. It is an affair of landlord and tenant — the lease perpet- 
ual, payment in kind; and the landlord to own the cattle, tools, 
and furniture of the tenant, as well as the land. Association, then, 
is merely a plan for extending the relation of landlord and tenant 
over the whole arable surface of the earth. 

Horace Greeley. Dec. lOtJi. By no means. The capital of a 
mature association would be, perhaps, half a million of dollai's; it 



I'^Q THE TEIBUIfE AND FOURIERISM. 

an infant assocation, fifty thousand dollars ; and this increaso of 
value would be both created and owned by Labor. In an ordinary 
township, however, the increase, though all created by Labor, ia 
chiefly owned by Capital, The majority of the inhabitants remain 
poor; while a few — merchants, land-owners, mill-owners, and manu- 
facturers — are enriched. That this is the fact in recently-settled 
townships, is undeniable. That it would not be the fact in a town- 
6hip settled and cultivated on the principle of association, seems to 
ine equally so. 

S^. J. Raymond. Dec \Aith. But not to me. Suppose fifty men 
furnish fifty thousand dollars for an association upon which a hun- 
dred and fifty others are to labor and to live. "VTitli that sum they 
buy the land, build the houses, and procure everything needful for 
the start. The capitalists, bear in mind, are the absolute owners of 
the entire property of the association. In twenty j^ears, that prop- 
erty may be worth half a million, and it still remains the property 
of the capitalists, the laborers having annually drawn their share of 
the products. They may have saved a portion of their annual 
share, and thus have accumulated property ; but they have no more 
title to the domain than they had at first. If the concern should 
not prosper, the laborers could not buy shares ; if it should, the 
capitalists would not sell except at their increased value. What 
advantage, then, does association offer for the poor man's acquiring 
property superior to that afforded by the present state of things ? 
None, that we can see. On the contrary, the more rapidly the 
domain of an association should increase in value, the more difficult 
it would be for the laboring man to rise to the class of proprietors ; 
and this would simply be an aggravation of the worst features of 
the social system. And how you associationists would quarrel ! Tba 
Bkillful would be ever grumbling at the awkward, and the lazy would 
shirk their share of the work, but clamor for their share of the 
product. There would be ten occasions for bickerings where now 
there is one. The fancies of the associationist, in fact, are as base- 
less, though not as beautiful, as More's Utopia, or the Happy Valley 
of Rasselas. 

Horace Greeley Dec. IQth. 'So, Sir/ In association, those who 



ABSTRACT OF THE DISCUSSION'. 177 

firnish the original capital are the owners merely of so much stocJt 
in the concern — not of all the land and other property, as you repre- 
sent. Suppose thftt capital to he fifty thousand dollars. At the end 
of the first year it is found that twenty-five thousand dollars have 
been added to the value of the property by Labor. For this amount 
neio stocTi is issued, which is apportioned to Capital, Labor and Skill 
as impartial justice shall dictate — to the non-resident capitalist a 
certain proportion ; to the working capitalist the same proportion, 
.plus the excess of his earnings over his expenses; to the laborer 
that excess only. The apportionment is repeated every year ; and 
the proportion of the new stock assigned to Capital is such that 
when the property of the association is worth half a million, Capi- 
tal will own about one-fifth of it. With regard to the practical 
working of association, I point you to the fact that association and 
civilization are one. They advance and recede together. In this 
age we have large steamboats, monster hotels, insurance, partner- 
ships, joint stock companies, public schools, libraries, police. Odd 
Fellowship— all of which are exemplifications of the idea upon 
which association is based ; all of which work well as institutions, 
and are productive of incalculable benefits to mankind. 



U. J. Eaymond. Dec. ^\ih. Of course ; — but association as- 
sumes to shape and govern the details of social life., which is a very 
different affair. One '■group^ it appears, is to do all the cooking, 
another the gardening, another the ploughing. But suppose that 
some who want to be cooks are enrolled in the gasdening group. 
They will naturally sneer at the dishes cooked by their rivals, per- 
haps form a party for the expulsion of the cooks, and so bring about 
a kitchen war. Then, who will consent to be a member of the 
boot-blacking, ditch-digging and sink-cleaning groups? Such labors 
must be done, and groups must be detailed to do them. Then, who 
is to settle the wages question ? "Who is to determine upon the com,' 
parative efficiency of each laborer, and settle the comparative value 
of bis work ? There is the religious difficulty too, and the educa- 
tional difficulty, the medical difficulty, and numberless other diffi- 
culties, arising from diffijrences of opinion, so radical and so earnest- 
ly entertained as to preclude the possibility of a large number of 
12 



j^yg THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

persons living together in the intimate relation contemplated bj 
association. 

Eore-ce Greeley. Bee. IQtli. Xot so fast. After the first steara- 
Bliip hid crossed the Atlantic all the demonstrations of the impos- 
sibility of that fact fell to the ground. Now, with regard to as- 
sociations, the first sLeamsliip has crossed ! The communities of 
Zoar and Eapp have existed from twenty to forty years, and several 
associations of the kind advocated by me have survived from two 
to five years, not only without being broken up by the difficultiea 
alluded to, but without their presenting themselves in the light of 
difficulties at all. No inter-kitchen war has disturbed their peace, 
no religious differences have marred their harmony, and men have 
been found willing to perform ungrateful offices, required by the 
general good. Passing over your objections, therefore, I beg you 
to consider the enormous difficulties, the wrongs, the waste, the mis- 
ery, occasioned by and inseparable from society as it is now organ- 
ized. For example, the coming on of winter contracts business and 
throws tliousands out of employment. They and their families suf- 
fer, the dealers who supply them are losers in custom, the alms- 
house is crowded, private charity is taxed to the extreme, many die 
of diseases induced by destitution, some are driven by despair to 
intoxication ; and all this, while every ox and horse is well fed and 
cared for, while there is inaccessible plenty all around, while capi- 
tal is luxuriating on the products of the very labor which is now pal- 
sied and suflFering. Under the present system, capital is everything, 
man nothing, except as a means of accumulating capital. Capital 
founds a factory, and for the single purpose of increasing capital, 
taking no thought of the human beings by whom it is increased. 
The fundamental ideas of association, on the other hand, is to efiect 
a just distribution of products among capital, talent and labor. 

E. J. Raymond. Jan. 6th. The idea may be good enough; 
but the means are impracticable ; the details are absurd, if not in- 
humane and impious. The Tribune's admission, that an association 
of indolent or covetous persons could not endure without a moral 
transformation of its memlers, seems to us fatal to the whole theorj 
of associatirn. It implies that individual reform must precede so 



ABSTRACT OF THE DISCUSSION. 179 

iial reform, wLicli is precisely our position. But liotv .« intlividuOi 
reform to be effected ? Bij association, says the Tribune. That is, 
the motion of the water-wheel is to produce the Avater bj -which 
alone it can be set in motion — the action of the watch is to pro- 
duce the main-spring without which it cannot move. Absurd. 

Horace Greeley. Jan. IZtli. Incorrigible mis-stater of my pofei- 
ti(!ns! I am as well aware as you are that the mass of the igno- 
rant and destitute are, at pre&ent, incapable of so much as nnder- 
scanding the social order I propose, much less of becoming efficient 
members of an association. What I say is, let those who are capa- 
ole of understanding and promoting it, legin the work, found asso- 
ciations, and shoio the rest of mankind how to live and thrive in 
hflrmonious industry. You tell me that the sole efficient agency of 
Social Reform is Christianity. I answer that association is Chris- 
tianity ; and the dislocation now existing between capital and labor, 
between the capitalist and the laborer, is as atheistic as it is in- 
human. 

H. J. Raymond. Jan. 20th. Stop a moment. Tlie test of true 
benevolence is practice, not preaching; and we have no hesitation 
in saying that the members of any one of our city churclies do 
more every year for the practical relief of poverty and suffering 
than any phalanx that ever existed. There are in our midst hun- 
dreds of female sewing societies, each of which clothes more naked- 
ness and feeds more hunger, tlian any ' association' that ever was 
foimed. There is a single individual in this city whom the Tribune 
has vilified as a selfish, grasping despiser of the poor, who has ex- 
pended more money in providing the poor with food, clothing, edu- 
cuation, sound instruction in morals and religion, than all the advo- 
cates of association in half a century. While association has been 
ihf.orizing about starvation, Christianity has been preventing it. 
Associationists tell us, that giving to the poor deepens the evil 
which it aims to relieve, and that the bounty of the benevolent, as 
society is now organized, is very often abused. We assure them, it 
is not the social system which abuses the bounty of the benevolent ; 
It is simply the diahcncsty and indolence of individuals, and they 
would do the same under any system, and especiallv in association^ 



180 THE TRIBUNE AND FOUPaERISM. 

Horace Greeley. Jan. 2dth. Private benevolence is good and 
necessary ; the Tribune has ever been its cordial and earnest ad- 
vocate. But benevolence relieves only the effects of poverty, Avliile 
A-ssociation proposes to reach and finally eradicate its causes. The 
charitable are doing nobly this -winter for the re''ief of the destitute : 
but will there be in this city next winter fewer objects of charity 
than there are now ? And let me tell you, sir, if you do not know 
it already, that the advocates of association, in proportion to their 
number, and their means, are, at least, as active and as ready in 
feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, as any class in the com- 
munity. Make the examinations as close as you please, bring it as 
near home as you like, and you will find the fact to be as I have 
asserted. 

H. J. Eaymond. Feb. IQth. You overlook one main objection. 
Association aims, not merely to re-organize Labor, but to revolu- 
tionize Society, to change radically Laws, Government, Manners 
and Religion. It pretends to be a new Social Science, discovered 
by Fourier. In our next article we shall show what its principles 
are, and point out their inevitable tendency. 

Horace Greeley. Feb. 17th. Do so. Meanwhile let me remind 
you, that there is need of a new Social System, when the old one 
works so villanously and wastefully. There is Ireland, with three 
\ hundred thousand able-bodied men, willing to work, yet nnem- 
ployed. Their labor is worth forty-five millions of dollars a year, 
which they need, and Ireland needs, but which the present Social 
System dooms to waste. There is work enough in Ireland to do, 
and men enough willing to do it ; but the spell of a vicious Social 
System broods over the island, and keeps the woikmen and the 
work apart. Four centuries ago, the English laborer could earn 
by his labor a good and sufficient subsistence for hi? family. Since 
that time Labor and Talent have made England rich 'beyond the 
dreams of avarice ;' and, at this day, the Laborer, as a rule, cannot, 
by unremitting toil, fully supply the necessities of his family. Hig 
bread is coarse, his clothing scanty, his home a hovel, his childrer 
aninstructed, his life cheerless. He lives from hand to mouth in 
abject terror of the poor-house, w'nere, he shudders to think, he 



ABSTRACT OF THE DISJUSSION. 181 

must eml his days. Preci-^cly the same causes are in operation 
here, and, in due time, will produce precisely the same effects. 
There is need of a Social Ke-formatiou ! 

3. J. Haymond. March ScZ. You are mistaken. The stale* 
^lle^t that tlie laborers of the present day are worse off tlian those 
of former ages, has been exploded. They are not. On the contrary 
their condition is letter in every respect. Evils under the present 
Social System exist, great evils — evils, for the removal of ■whicL 
the most constant and zealous efforts ought to be made ; yet they 
are very far from being as great or as general as the Associationists 
assert. Tlie fact is indisputable, that, as a rule throughout the 
country, no honest man, able and willing to Avork, need stand idle 
from lack of opportunity. The exceptions to this rule are com- 
paratively few, and arise from temporary and local causes. But we 
proceed to examine the fundamental principle of the Social System 
proposed to be substituted for that now established. In one word, 
that principle is Self-Indulgence ! " Reason and Passion," writes 
Parke Godwin, the author of one of the clearest expositions of So- 
cialism yet published, " will be in perfect accord : dutj" and pleas- 
ure will have the same meaning ; without inconvenience or calcu- 
lation, man will follow his lent: hearing only of Attraction, he will 
never act from necessity, and never curl Tiimself ly restraints.'''' 
"What becomes of the self-denial so expressly, so frequently, so em- 
phatically enjoined by the iN'ew Testament? Fourierism and Chris- 
tianity, Fourierism and Moralitj', Fourierism and Conjugal Constancy 
are in palpable hostility ! We are told, that if a man lias a passion 
for a dozen kinds of work, he joins a dozen groups ; if for a dozen 
kinds of study, he joins a dozen groups ; and, if for a dozen women, 
the System requires that there must be a dozen different groups for 
Ids full gratification 1 For man will follow his lent, and never curb 
himself by restraints ! 

Uoraze Greeley. March 12th. Xot so. I re-assert what I before 
r roved, that the English laborers of to-day are worse off than those 
of fcnner centuries ; and I deny with disgust and indignation that 
there is in Socialism, as American Socialists understand and teach it, 
any provision or license for the gratifiqation of criminal pa3si(ms oi 






282 THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

unlawful desires. Why not quote Mr. Godwin fully and fairly « 
Why suppress his remark, that, "So long as the Passions may 
bring fortli Disorder — so long as Inclination mat/ be in opposition 
to Duty—v,^e reprobate as strongly as any class of men all indulg- 
ence of the inclinations and feelings ; and w'liere Reason is unable 
to guide them, have no objection to other means" ? Socialists know 
nothing of Groups, organized, or to be organized, for the perpetra- 
f io» of crimes, or the practice of vices. 

R. J. Raymond. March IQth. Perhaps not. But J know, from 
the writings of leading Socialists, that the law of Passional Attrac- 
tion, i. e. Self-indulgence, is the essential and fundamental principle 
of Association ; and that, while Christianity pronounces the free 
and full gratification of the passions a crime, Socialism extols it as 
a virtue. 

Horace Greeley. MarcTi 2(jtJi. Impertinent. Tour articles are all 
entitled " The Socialism of the Tribune examined" ; and the Tri- 
bune has never contained a line to justify your unfair inferences 
from garbled quotations from the Avritings of Godwin and Fourier. 
What the Tribune advocates is, simply and solely, such an organiza- 
tion of Society as will secure to every man the opportunity of unin- 
terrupted and profitable labor, and to every child nourishment and 
culture. These things, it is undeniable, the present Social System 
'Joes not secure ; and hence the necessity of a new and better organ- 
ization. So no more of your ' Passional Attraction.' 

E. J. Raymond. April IGth. I tell you the scheme of Fourier is 
essentially and fundamentally irreligious ! by which I mean that it 
coes not follow ray Catechism, and apparently ignores the Thirty- 
Nine Articles. Shocking. 

Horace Greeley, April 2Sth. Ilumphl 

H J. Raymond. May 20t7i. The Tribune is doing a great deal of 
^arm. .The editor does not know it — but it is. 

Thus ended Fourierism. Thenceforth, the Tribune alluded to th*j 



THE TRIBUNE'S SFXOND VEAR. 183 

Rubject occasionally, but only in reply to those who sought to make 
political or personal capi^'al by reviving it. By its discussion of the 
pubject it rendered a great service to the country : first, by afford- 
uig one more proof that, for the ills that flesh is heir to, there is, 
there can be, no panacea; secondly, by exhibiting tlie economy of 
association, and familiarizing the public mind with the idea of asso- 
ciation — an idea susceptible of a thousanrl applications, and capable. 
in a thousand ways, of alleviating and preventing human wocp. 
We see its perfect triumph in Insurance, whereby a loss which 
would crush an individual falls upon the whole company of insur- 
ers, lightly and unperceived. Future ages will witness its success- 
ful application to most of the affairs of life. 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE TKIBUNE'S SECOND YEAR. 

Increase of price— The Tribune offends the Sixlh Ward fighting-men— The oflBce threat- 
ened—Novel preparations for defense— Charles Dickens defended — The Editor 
travels— Visits Washington, and sketches the Senators— At Blount Vernon— At 
Niagara — A hard hit at Major Noah. 

The Tribune, as we have seen, was started as a penny paper. It 
began its second volume, on the eleventh of April, 1842, at the in- 
trt-eascd price of nine cents a week, or two cents for a single num- 
oer, and effected this serious advance without losing two hundred 
of its twelve thousand subscribers. At the same time, Messrs. Gree- 
ley and McElrath started the ' American Laborer,' a monthly maga-' 
sine, devoted chiefly to the advocacy of Protection. It was pub- 
lished at seventy-five cents for the twelve numbers which the pros- 
pectus announced. 

When it was remarked, a few pages back, that the word with the 
Tribune was Fight, no allusion was intended to the use of carnal 
weapons. "The pen is miglitier than the sworc\" claptraps Bulwer ' 
ui one of his plays ; and the Pen was the only fighting implement 



184 THE tribune's second tear. 

referred to. It caiue to pass, however, in the first inonth of the 
Tribune's second year, that the pointed nib of the warlike journal 
gave deadly umbrage to certain fighting men of the Sixth Ward, by 
exposing their riotous conduct on the day of the Spring elections. 
The office was, in consequence, tlireatened by the offended parties 
with a nocturnal visit, and the oflBce, alive to the duty of hospital- 
ity, prepared to give the expected guests a suitable reception by 
arming itself to the chiranej's. 

This (I believe) was one of the paragraphs deerced most offen- 
sive : 

"It appears that some of the 'Spartan Band,' headed by Michael Walsh. 
after a fight in the -Ith District of the Sixth Ward, paraded up Centre street, 
opposite the Halls of Justice, to the neighborhood of the poll of the 3J Dis- 
trict, where, after marching and counter-marching, the leader Walsh re-com- 
menced the work of violence by knocking down an unoffending individual, who 
was following near him. This was the signal for a general attack of this band 
upon the Irish population, who were knocked down in every direction, until the 
street was literally strewed with their prostrate bodies. After this demonstra- 
tion of ' Spartan valor,' the Irish fled, and the band moved on to another poll 
to re-enact their deeds of violence. In the interim the Irish proceeded to rally 
their forces, and, armed with sticks of cord-wood and clubs, paraded through 
Centre street, about 300 strong, attacking indiscriminately and knocking down 
nearly all who came in their way — some of their victims, bruised and bloody, 
having to be carried into the Police Office and the prison, to protect them from 
being murdered. A portion of the Irish then dispersed, while another portion 
proceeded to a house in Orange street, which they attacked and riddled from 
top to bottom. Re-uniting their scattered forces, the Irish bands again, with 
increased numbers, marched up Centre street, driving all before them, and 
when near the Halls of Justice, the cry was raised, 'Americans, stand firm !' 
when a body of nearly a thousand voters surrounded the Irish bands, knocked 
them down, and beat them without mercy — while some of the fallen Irishmen 
were with difficulty rescued from the violence that would have destroyed 
hem, had they not been hurried into the Police Office and prison as a place ol 
refuge. In this encounter, or the one that preceded it, a man named Ford, 
siad said tc be one of the ' Spartans,' was carried into the Police OflBce beaten 
.vlmost to death, and was subsequently transferred to the Hospital." 

On the morning of the day on which this appeared, two gentle- 
men, more muscular than civil, called at the office to say, that the 
Tribune's account of the riot was incorrect, and did injustice to 



THE OFFICE TIIUEATEXED. 185 

Individuals, wlio expected to see a retraction oa tlie following day 
No retraction appeared on the following day, but, on the contrary 
a fuller and more emphatic repetition of the charge. The next 
morning, the office was favored by a second visit from tlie muscular 
gentlemen. One of them seized a clerk by the shoulder, and re- 
quested to be intormed whether he was the offspring of a female 
dog who had put that into the paper, pointing to the offensive arti- 
cle. The clerk protested his innocence; and the men of muscle 
swore, that, whoever put it in, if the next paper did not do them jus- 
tice, the Bloody Sixth would come down and 'smash the office,' 
The Tribune of the next day contained a complete history of the 
riot, and denounced its promoters with more vehemence than on 
the days preceding. The Bloody Sixth was ascertained to be in a 
ferment, and the office prepared itself for defense. 

One of the compositors was a member of the City Guard, and 
through his interest, the muskets of that admired company of citi- 
zen-soldiers were procured; as soon as the evening shades pre- 
vailed, they were conveyed to tlie office, and distributed among 
the men. One of the muskets was placed near the desk of the Ed- 
itor, who looked up from his writing and said, he 'guessed they 
wouldn't come down,' and resumed his work. The foreman of the 
press-room in the basement caused a pipe to be conveyed from the 
safety valve of the boiler to the steps that led up to the sidewalk 
The men in the Herald office, near by, made common cause, for 
this occasion only, with their foemen of the Tribune, and agreed, 
on the first alarm, to rush through the sky-light to the flat roof, and 
rain down on the heads of the Bloody Sixth a shower of brick-bats 
to be procured from the surrounding chimneys. It was thought, 
that what with volleys of musketry from the upper windows, a 
storm of bricks from the roof, and a blast of hot steam from the 
cellar, the Bloody Sixth would soon have enough of smashing the 
Tribune office. The men of the allied offices waited for the expect- 
ed assault witli the most eager desire. At twelve o'clock, the part- 
ners made a tour of inspection, and expressed their perfect satisfac- 
tion with all the arrangements. But, unfortunately for the story, 
the night wore away, the paper went to press, morning dawned. 
And yet the Bloody Sixth had not appeared! Either the Bloody 
Sixth had tliought better of it, or the men of muscle had ha(' nc 



186 THK tribune's SECOND YEAR. 

right to speak in its awful name. From whatever cause — thesi 
masterly preparations were made in vain; and the Tribune went on 
its belligerent way, unsmashed. For some weeks, 'it kept at' the 
election frauds, and made a complete exposure of the guilty persons. 

Let us glance hastily over the rest of the volume. 

It was the year of Charles Dickens' visit to the United States. 
The Tribune ridiculed the extravagant and unsuitable honors paid 
to the amiable novelist, but spoke strongly in favor of international 
copyright, which Mr. Dickens made it his ' mission ' to advocate. 
When the ' American IN'otes for General Circulation ' appeared, the 
Tribune was one of the few papers that gave it a 'favorable notice.' 
" We have read the book," said the Tribune, " very carefully, and 
we are forced to say, in the face of all this stormy denunciation, 
that, so far as its tone toward this country is concerned, it is one 
of the very iest works of its class ice liate ever seen. Tbere is not 
a sentence it which seems to have sprung from ill-nature or con- 
tempt; not a word of censure is uttered for its own sake or in 
a fault-finding spirit ; the whole is a calm, judicious, gentlemanly, 
unexceptionable record of what the writer saw — and a candid and 
correct judgment of its worth and its defects. How a writer could 
look upon the broadly-blazoned and applauded slanders of his own 
land which abound in this — how he could run through the pages of 
Lester's book — filled to the margin with the grossest, most un- 
founded and illiberal assaults upon all the institutions and the social 
phases of Great Britain — and then write so calmly of this country, 
with so manifest a freedom from passion and prejudice, as Dick- 
ens has done, is to us no slight marvel. That he has done it is 
infinitely to his credit, and confirms us in the opinion we had long 
since formed of the soundness of his head and the goodness of hia 
heart." 

In the summer of 1842, Mr. Greeley made an extensive tour, visit- 
ing "Washington, Mount Vernon, Poultney, Westhaven, London- 
derry, lliagara, and the home of his parents in Pennsylvania, from 
all of w-hich he wrote letters to the Tribune. His letters fi-om 
Washington, entitled 'Glances at the Senate,' gave agreeable 
Bketches of Calhoun, Preston, Benton, Evans, Crittenden, Wright 
and others. Silas Wright he thought the 'keenest logician m the 
Senate,' the 'Ajax o: plausibility,' the 'Talleyrand of the forum. 



VISITS NIAGARA. ISI 

CalLonn Le descriled as tlie ' coinpactest speaker' in the Senate r- 
Preston, as the 'most forcible dcclaimer;' Evans, as the 'most dex* 
ternns and diligent legislator;' Benton, as an individual, "gross and 
burly in person, of countenance most unintellectual, in manner pom- , 
pons and inflated, in matter empty, in conceit a giant, in influence 
a cipher !" 

From Monnt Vernon, Mr. Greeley wrote an interesting letter, 
chiefly descriptive. It concluded thus: — "Slowly, pensively, we 
turned our faces from the rest of the miglity dead to the turmoil of 
the restless living — from the solemn, sublime repose of Mount Ver- 
non to the ceaseless iningues, the petty strifes, the ant-hill bustle ot 
the Federal City. Each has its own atmosphere ; London and 
Mecca are not so unlike as they. The silent, enshrouding woods, 
the gleaming, majestic river, the bright, benignant sky — it is fitly 
here, amid the scenes he loved and hallowed, that the man whose 
life and character have redeemed Patriotism and Liberty from tl.ie 
reproach which centuries of designing knavery and hollow profess- 
ion nad cast upon them, now calmly awaits the trump of the arch- 
angel. "Who does not rejoice that the original design of removing 
his ashes to the city has never been consummated — that they lie 
where the pilgrim may reverently approach them, unvexed by the 
Mght laugh of the time-killing worldling, unannoyed by the vain or 
vile scribblings of the thoughtless or the base? Thus may they 
repose forever ! that the heart of the patriot may be invigorated, 
tli« hopes of the philanthropist strengthened and his aims exalted, 
the pulse of the American quickened and his aspirations purified by 
a visit to Mount Vernon!" 

From Niagara, the traveller wrote a letter to Graham's Magazine : 

" Years," said he, ' though not many, have weighed upon me since first, in 
boyhood, I gazed from the deck of a canal-boat upon the distant cloud of white 
vapor which marked the position of the world 3 great cataract, and listened to 
catch the rumbling of its deep thunders. Circumstances did not then permit rao 
to gratify my strong desire of visiting it ; and now, when I am tempted to won- 
der at the stolidity of those who live within a day's journey, yet live on 
through half a century without one glance at the mighty torrent, I am 
jhecked by the reflection that I myself passed within a dozen miles of it no 
less than five times before T was able to enjoy its magnificence. The propi- 
tious hour cam^ at last, however ; and, after a disappointed gaze from the 



J^gg THE tribune's SECOND YEAR. 

upper terrace on the British side, (in which I half feared that the sheet of 
broken and boiling water above was all the cataract that existed,) and rapid 
tortuous descent by the woody declmty, I stood at length on Table Eock, and 
the whole immensity of the tremendous avalanche of waters burst at once on 
my arrested vision, while awe struggled with amazement for the mastery of 
my soul. 

" This was late in October ; I have twice visited the scene amid the freshness 
and beauty of June ; but I think the late Autumn is by far the better season. 
There is then a sternness in the sky, a plaintive melancholy in the sighing cf 
the wind through the mottled forest foliage, which harmonizes better with the 
gpirit of the scene; for the Genius of Niagara, friend! is never a laughter- 
loving spirit. For the gaudy vanities, the petty pomp?, the light follies of the_ 
hour, he has small sympathy. Let not the giddy heir bring here his ingots, 
the selfish aspirant his ambition, the libertine his victim, and hope to find 
enjoyment and gaiety in the presence. Let none come here to nurse his pride, 
or avarice, or any other low desire. God and His handiwork here stand forth 
in lone sublimity ; and all the petty doings and darings of the ants at the 
base of the pyramid appear in their proper insignificance. Few can have 
visited Niagara and left it no humbler, no graver than they came." 

On his return to tlie city, Horace Greeley subsided, with curious 
abruptness, into the editor of the Tribune. This note appears on 
the morning after liis arrival : 

" The senior editor of this paper has returned to his post, after an absence 
of four weeks, during which he has visited nearly one half of the counties of 
this State, and passed through portions of Pennsylvania, Vermont, Massachu- 
setts, etc. During this time he has written little for the Tribune save the 
casual and hasty letters to which his initials were subscribed ; but it need 
hardly bo said that the general course and conduct of the paper have been the 
same as if he had been at his post. 

" Two deductions only from the observations he has made and the information 
he has gathered during his tour, will here be given. They are those : 

" 1. The cause of Protection to Home Industry is much stronger throughout 
this and the adjoining States than even the great party which mainly up- 
holds it; and nothing will so much tend to ensure the election of Henry Clay 
next President as the veto of an efficient Tariff bill by John Tyler. 

" 2. The strength of the Whig party is unbroken by recent disasters and 
treachery, and only needs the proper opportunity to manifest itself in all the 
energy and power of 1840. If a distinct and unequivocal issue can be made 
npon the great leading questions at issue between the rival parties — on Pro- 
tection to Horae Industry and Internal Improvement — ike Whijj ascendency 
will be triumphantly vindicated in the coming eleclirn." 



A HARD HIT AT MAJOU NOAH. 



189 



1 need not HweW on tlie politics of that year. For Protection- 
for Clay— against Tyler — against liis vetoes — for a law to punish se 
duction — against capital punishment — imagine countless columns. 

la October, died Dr. Channing. "Deeply," wrote Mr. Greele}-, 
•' do we deplore his loss, most untimely, to the faithless eye of man 
does it seem — to the cause of truth, of order and of right, and still 
nioro deeply do we lament that he has left behind him, in the samo 
department of exertion, so few, in proportion to the number needed, 
to supply the loss occasioned by his death." Soon after, the Tri- 
bune gave Theodore Parker a hearing by publishing sketches of his 
lectures. 

An affair of a personal nature made considerable noise about this 
time, which is worth alluding to, for several reasons. Major Noah, 
then the editor of the ' Union,' a Tylerite paper of small circula- 
tion and irritable temper, was much addicted to attacks on tlie Tri- 
bune. On this occasion, he was unlucky enough to publish a ri- 
diculous story, to the effect that Horace Greeley had taken his ' 
breakfast in company with two colored men at a boarding-house in 
Barclay street. The story was eagerly copied by the enemies of the 
Tribune, and at length Horace Greeley condescended to notice it. 
The point of his most happy and annihilating reply is contained in 
these, its closing sentences : " We have never associated with 
blacks; never eaten with tliem ; and yet it is quite probable that if 
we 7iad seen two cleanly, decent colored persons sitting down at a 
second table in another room just as we were finishing our break- 
fast, we might have gone away without thinking or caring about 
the matter. "We choose our own company in all things, and that 
of our own race, but cherish little of that spirit which for eighteen 
centuries has held the kindred of M. M. Koah accursed of God and 
man, outlawed and outcast, and unfit to be the associates of Chris- 
tians, Mussulmen, or even self-respecting Pagans. Where there are 
thousands who would not eat with a negro, there are (or lately 
were) tens of thousands who would not eat with a Jew. We kave 
to such renegadee as the Judge of Israel the stirring up of prejudices 
and the prating of 'usages of society,' which over half the world 
vnake him an abhorrence, as they not long since would have dona 
here ; we treat all men according to what they are and not 
whence they spring. That he is a knave, we think much to his dis> 



190 THE TRIBUNE AND J. FENIMORE COOPElt. 

credit; that he is a Jew nothing, however unfortunate it maybe 
for that luckless people." This was a hit not more hard than fau*. 
The ' Judge of Israel,' it is said, felt it acutely. 

The Tribune continued to prosper. It ended the second volunia 
with a circulation of twenty thousand, and an advertising patron- 
age so extensive as to compel the issue of frequent supplements. 
The position of its chief editor grew in importance. His advice and 
co-operation were sought by so many persons and for so many ob- 
jects, that h<i was obliged to keep a notice standing, which request- 
ed "all who would see him personally in his office, to call between 
the hours of 8 and 9 A. M., and 5 and 6 P. M., unless the most im- 
perative necessity dictate a different hour. If this notice be dis- 
regarded, he will be compelled to abandon his office and seek else- 
where a chance for an hour's uninterrupted devotion to his daily 
duties." 

His first set lecture in New York is tlius announced, Januaiy 
8d, 1843 : "Horace Greeley will lecture before the New York Ly- 
ceum at the Tabernacle, this evening. Subject, ' Human Life.' The 
lecture will commence at half past 7, precisely. If those who care 
to bear it will sit near the desk, they will favor the lecturer's weak 
and husky voice." 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE TEIBUNE AND J. FEXIMOEE COOPER. 

The libel — Horace Greeley's narrative of the trial — He re* lews the opening speech o! 
Mr. Cooper's counsel — A striking illustration — He addresses the jury — Mr. Coojier 
sums up — Horace Greeley comments on the speech of the novelist — In doing so he 
perpetrates new libels— The verdict— Mr. Greeley's remarks on tho same- Strikes 
a bee-line for New York — A new suit — An imaginary case. 

A MAN is never so characteristic as when he sports. There waa 
something in the warfare waged by the author of the Leatherstock- 
ing against the press, and particularly in liis suit of the Tribune for 
libel, that appealed so strongly to Horace Greeley's sense of th« 



THE LIBEL ON J. FEKIMORE COOPER. 191 

comic, that ho seldom alUided to it without, apparently, falling into 
a paroxysm of mirth. Some of his most humorous passages Avere 
Avrittcn in connection with -what he called ' the Cooperage of the 
Tribune.' To that affair, therefore, it is proper tiiat a short chapter 
should be devoted, before pursuing further the History of the 
Tribune. 

The matter alleged to be libelous appeared in the Tribune, Nov. 
17th, 1841. The trial took place at Saratoga, Dec. 9th, 1842. Mr. 
Greeley defended the suit in person, and, on returning to New York, 
wrote a long and ludicrous account of the trial, which occupied 
eleven columns and a quarter in the Tribune of Dec. 12th. For 
that number of the paper there was such a demand, that the ac- 
count of the trial was, soon after, re-published in a pamphlet, of 
which this chapter will be little more than a condensation. 

The libel — such as it was — the reader may find lurking in the 
following epistle : 

" MR. FENIMORE COOPER AND HIS LIBELS. 

" Fonda, Nov. 17, 1841. 
•' To THE Editor of the Tribune : — 

" The Circuit Court now sitting here is to be occupied chiefly with the legal 
griefs of Mr. Fenimore Cooper, who has determined to avenge himself upon 
the Press for having contributed by its criticisms to his waning popularity as 
a novelist. 

" The ' handsome Mr. Effingham' has three cases of issue here, two of which 
are against Col. AVebb, Editor of the Courier and Enquirer, and one against 
Mr. AVeed, Editor of the Albany Evening Journal. 

" Mr. Weed not appearing on Monday, (the first day of court,) Cooper mov- 
ed for judgment by default, as Mr. Weed's counsel had not arrived. Col. 
AVebb, who on passing through Albany, called at Mr. Weed's house, and 
learned that his wife was seriously and his daughter dangerously ill, request- 
ed Mr. Sacia testate the facts to the Court, and ask a day's delay. Mr. Sacia 
made, at the same time, an appeal to Mr. Cooper's humanity. But that appeal, 
of course, was an unavailing one. The novelist pushed his advantage. The 
Court, however, ordered the cause to go over till the next day, with the un- 
derstanding that the default should be entered then if Mr. Weed did not ap- 
pear. Col. Webb then despatched a messenger to Mr. Weed with this infor- 
mation. The messenger returned with a letter from Mr. Weed, stating that 
his daughter lay very ill, and that he would not leave her while she was suf 
fering or in danger Mr. Cooper, therefore, immediately nijved for his default. 
Mr. Sacia interposed again for time, but it was denied. A jury jvas empaa* 



192 THE TRIBUNE AND J. FENIMORE COOPER. 

eled to assess Mr. Effingham's damages. The trial, of course, was ex-paict, 
Mr. Weed being absent and defenceless. Cooper's lawyer made a wordy, 
windy, abusive appeal for exemplary damages. The jury retired, urder a 
etrong charge against Mr. Weed from Judge Willard, and after remaining in 
their room till twelve o'clock at night, sealed a verdict for S400 for Mr. Effing- 
ham, which was delivered to the Court this morning. 

" This meager verdict, under the circumstanses, is a severe and mortifying 
rebuke to Cooper, who had everything his own way. 

" The value of Mr. Cooper's character, therefore, has been judicially ascer- 
tained. 

" It is worth exactly four hundred dollars. 

" Col. Webb's trial comes on this afternoon ; his counsel, A. L. Jordan, Esq., 
having just arrived in the up train. Cooper will be blown sky high. This 
experiment upon the Editor of the Courier and Enquirer, I predict, will cure 
the 'handsome Mr. Effingham' of his monomania for libels." 

The rest of tlie story shall be given here in Mr. Greeley's own 
words. lie begins the narrative thus : — 

" The responsible Editor of the Tribune returned yesterday morning from a 
week's journey to and sojourn in the County of Saratoga, having been thereto 
urgently persuaded by a Supreme Court writ, requiring him to answer to tho 
declaration of Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper in an action for Libel. 

" This suit was originally to have been tried at the May Circuit at Ballston ; 
but neither Fenimore (who was then engaged in the Coopering of Col. Stone 
of the Commercial) nor we had time to attend to it — so it went over to this 
term, which opened at Ballston Spa en Monday, Dec. 5th. We arrived on 
the ground at eleven o'clock of that day, and found the plaintiflF and his 
lawyers readj' for us, our case No. 10 on the calendar, and of course a good 
prospect of an early trial ; but an important case involving Water-rights came 
in ahead of us (No. 8) taking two days, and it was half-past 10, A.M., of 
Friday, before ours was reached — very fortunately for us, as we had no lawyer, 
had never talked over the case with one, or made any preparation whatever, 
Bave in thought, and had not even found time to read the papers pertaining 
to it till we arrived at Ballston. 

" The delay in reaching the case gave us time for all ; and that we did not 
employ lawyers to aid in our conduct or defense proceeded from no want of 
confidence in or deference to the many eminent members of the Bar there in 
attendance, beside Mr. Cooper's three able counsel, but simply from the fact 
that we wished to present to the Court some considerations which we thought 
had been overlooked Dr overborne in the recent Trials of the Press for Libel 
before our Supreme and Circuit Courts, and which, since they appealed more 
directly and forcibly to the experience of Editors than of Lawyers, we pre- 



TnE OPENING SPEECH OF MR COOPEr's COUNSEL. 193 

jumed an ordinary editor might present as plainly and fully as an able law* 
yer. Wo wished to place before the Court and the country those views which 
we understand the Press to maintain with us of its own position, duties, 
responsibilities, and rights, as afifected by the practical construction given of 
late years in this State to the Law of Libel, and its application to editors and 
journals. Understanding that we could not appear both in person and by 
counsel, we chose the former ; though on trial we found our opponent was per- 
mitted to do what wo supposed we could not. So much by way of explana- 
tion to the many able and worthy lawyers in attendance on the Circuit, from 
whom we received every kindness, who would doubtless have aided us most 
rheerfully if we had required it, and would have conducted our case far more 
skillfully than we either expected or cared to do. We had not appeared there 
to be saved from a verdict by any nice technicality or legal subtlety. 

" The case was opened to the Court and Jury by Richard Cooper, nephew 
and attorney of the plaintiff, in a speech of decided pertinence and force. 
* * * Mr. R. Cooper has had much experience in this class of cases, and 
is a young man of considerable talent. His manner is the only fault about 
him, being too elaborate and pompous, and his diction too bombastic to pro- 
duce the best effect on an unsophisticated auditory. If he will only contrive 
to correct this, he will yet make a figure at the Bar — or rather, he will mako 
less figure and do more execution. The force of his speech was marred by 
Fenimore's continually interrupting to dictate and suggest to him ideas when 
he would have done much better if left alone. For instance : Fenimore in- 
structed him to say, that our letter from Fonda above recited purported to be 
from the 'correspondent of the Tribune,' and thence to draw and press on the 
Jury the inference that the letter was written by some of our own corps, whom 
we had sent to Fonda to report these trials. This inference we were obliged 
to repel in our reply, by showing that the article plainly read ' correspondence 
of the Tribune,' just as when a fire, a storm, or some other notable event 
occurs in any part of the country or world, and a friend who happens to bo 
there, sits down and dispatches us a letter by the first mail to give us early 
advices, though he has no connection with us but by subscription and good 
will, and perhaps never wrote a line to us in his life till now. 

********* 

"The next step in Mr. R. Cooper's opening: AYo had, to the DeclaratioQ 
against us, pleaded the General Issue — that is Not Guilty of libeling Mr. 
Cooper, at the same time fully admitting that we had published all that he 
called our libels on him, and desiring to put in issue only the fa«t of thcit 
being or not being libels, and have the verdict turn on that issue. But Mr. 
Cooper told the Jury (and we found, to our cost, that this was New York Su- 
preme and Circuit Court law) that by pleading Not Guilly ice had Itgally ad' 
mitted ourselves to be Guilty — that all that was necessary for the plaintiff 
under that plea was to put in our admission of publication, and then the Jury 
13 



194 THE TRIBUNE AND J. FENIMORE COOPEU. 

had nothing to do but to assess the plaintiff's damages under the direction of 
the Court. In short, we were made to understand that there was no way un 
der Heaven — we beg pardon ; under New York Supreme Court Law — in which 
the editor of a newspaper could plead to an action for libel that the matter 
charged upon him as libelous was not in its nature or intent a libel, but sim- 
ply a statement, according to the best of his knowledge and belief, of some 
notorious and every way public transaction, < r his own honest comments 
thereon; and ask the Jury to decide whether tl.e plaintiff's averment or hia 
answers thereto be the truth ! To illustrate the beauties of 'the perfection 
of human reason ' — always intending New York Circuit and Supreme Court 
reason — on this subject, and to show the perfect soundness and pertinence of 
Mr. Cooper's logic according to the decisions of these Courts, we will give an 
example . 

"Our police reporter, say this evening, shall bring in on his chronicle of 
daily occurrences the following : 

" 'A hatchet-faced chap, with mouse-colored whiskers, who gave the name 
of John Smith, was brought in by a watchman who found him lying drunk in 
-he gutter. After a suitable admonition from the Justice, and on payment of 
the usual fine, he was discharged.' 

"Now, our reporter, who, no more than we, ever before heard of this John 
Smith, is only ambitious to do his duty correctly and thoroughly, to make his de- 
scription accurate and graphic, and perhaps to protect better men who rejoice 
in the cognomen of John Smith, from being confounded with this one in the 
popular rumor of his misadventure. If the paragraph should come under 
aur notice, we should probably strike it out altogether, as relating to a subject 
of no public moment, and likely to crowd out better matter. But we do not 
see it, and in it goes : Well : John Smith, who ' acknowledges the corn ' as to 
being accidentally drunk and getting into the watch-house, is not willing to 
rest under the imputation of being hatched-faced and having mouse-colored 
whiskers, retains Mr. Richard Cooper — for he could not do better — and com- 
mences an action for libel against us. We take the best legal advice, and are 
told that we must demur to the Declaration — that is, go before a court without 
jury, where no facts can be shown, and maintain that the matter charged as 
uttered by us is not libelous. But Mr. R. Cooper meets us there and says justly : 
'How is the court to decide without evidence that this matter is not libelous I 
If it was written and inserted for the express purpose of ridiculing and bring- 
ing into contempt my client, it clearly is libelous. And then as to damages . 
My client is neither rich nor a great man, but his character, in his own circl«, 
IS both dear and valuable to him. We shall be able to show on trial that he 
was on the point of contracting marriage with the daughter of the keeper of ' 
the most 'fashionable and lucrative oyster-cellar in Orange street, whose 
nerves were so shocked at the idea of her intended having a ' hatchet face and 
mouse-colored whiskers,' that she fainted outright on reading the paragraph 



TUE OPENIXG SPEECH OF MR. COOPEu's COUNSEL. 195 

(copied from your paper into the next day's 'Sun'), and was not brought ta 
until a whole bucket of oysters which she had just opened had been poured 
over her in a hurried mistake for water. Since then, she has frequent relapses 
and shuddering, especially when my client's name is mentioned, and utterly 
refuses to see or speak of him. The match is dead broke, and my client loses 
(hereby a capital home, where victuals are more plentiful and the supply mora 
steady than it has been his fortune to find them for the last year or two. lis 
loses, with all this, a prospective interest in the concern, and is left utterly 
without business or means of support except this suit. Besides, how can you 
tell, in the absence of all testimony, that the editor was not paid to insert this 
villanous description of my client, by some envious rival for the affections of 
the oyster-maid, who calculates both to gratify his spite and advance his lately 
hopeless wooing ? In that case, it certainly is a libel. We affirm this to be 
the case, and you are bound to presume that it is. The demurrer must be 
overruled.' And so it must be. No judge could decide otherwise. 

" Now we are thrown back upon a dilemma : Either we must plead Justifica- 
tion, in which case wc admit that our publication was on its face a libel ; and 
now, woe to us if we cannot prove Mr. Cooper's client's face as sharp, and his 
whiskers of the precise color as slated. A shade more or less ruins us. For, be 
it known, by attempting a Justification we have not merely admitted our of- 
fense to be a libel, but our plea is an aggravation of the libel, and entitles the 
plaintiff to recover higher and more exemplary damages. But we have just 
one chance more : to plead the general issue — to wit, that we did not libel the 
said John Smith, and go into court prepared to show that we had no malice 
toward or intent to injure Mr. Smith, never heard of him before, and have done 
all we knew how to make him reparation — in short, that we have done and in- 
tended nothing which brings us fairly within the iron grasp of the law of libel. 
But here again, while trying our best to get in somehow a plea of Not Guilty, 
we have actually pleaded Guilty ! — so says the Supreme Court law of Xew 
York — our admitted publication (no matter of what) concerning John Smith 
proves irresistibly that we have libeled him — we are not entitled in any way 
whatever to go to the Jury with evidence tending to show that our publication 
is not a libel — or, in overthrow of the legal presumption of malice, to show 
that there actually was none. All that we possibly can offer must be taken 
into account merely in mitigation of damages. Our hide is on the fence, you 
see, any how. 

" But to return to Pilchard's argument at Ballston. lie put very strongly 
against us the fact that our Fonda correspondent (see Declaration above) con- 
sidered Fenimore's verdict there a meager one. ' Gentlemen of the jury,' said 
ne, ' see how these editors rejoice and exult when they get off with so light a 
verdict as S400 1 They consider it a triumph over the law and the defendant 
They don't consider that amount anything. If you mean to vindicate the ln.wf 
and the character of my client, you see yo» must give much more than this.' 



196 THE TRIBUNK AND J. FENIMORE COOJ^ER. 

This was a good point, but not quite fair. The exultation over the ' meager 
rerdiit' was expressly in view of the fact, that the cause was undefended — that 
Fenimore and his counsel had it all their own way, evidence, argument, charge, 
and all. Still, Richard had a good chance here to appeal for a large verdict, 
and he did it well. 

" On one other point Richard talked more like a cheap lawyer and less iike 
& — like what we had expected of him — than through the general course of his 
argument. In his pleadings, he had set forth Horace Greeley and Thomas Mc- 
Elrath as Editors and Proprietors of the Tribune, and we readily enough ad- 
mitted whatever he chose to assert about us except the essential thing in dis 
pute between us. Well, on the strength of this he puts it to the Court and 
Jury, that Thomas McElrath is one of the Editors of the Tribune, and that 
be, being (having been) a lawyer, would have been in Court to defend this 
Euit, if there was any valid defense to be made. This, of course, went very 
hard against us ; and it was to no purpose that we informed him that Thomas 
McElrath, though legally implicated in it, had nothing to do practically with 
this matter — (all which he knew very well long before) — and that the other 
defendant is the man who does whatever libeling is done in the Tribune, and 
holds himself everywhere responsible for it. AVe presume there is not much 
doubt even so far off as Cooperstown as to who edits the Tribune, and who 
wrote the editorial about the Fonda business. (In point of fact, the real and 
palpable defendant in this suit never even conversed with his partner a quar- 
ter of an hour altogether about this subject, considering it entirely his own 
job ; and the plaintiff himself, in conversation with Mr. McElrath, in the pres- 
ence of his aUo7~ney, had fully exonerated Mr. M. from anything more than 
legal liability.) But Richard was on his legs as a lawyer — he pointed to the 
seal on his bond — and therefore insisted that Thomas McElrath was art and 
part in the alleged libel, not only legally, but actually, and would have been 
present to respond to it if he had deemed it susceptible of defense ! As a 
lawyer, we suppose this was right ; but, as an Editor and a man, we could not 
have done it." 

' Pdchard' gave waj-, and ' Horace' addressed the jury in a speecli 
of fifty minutes, which need not be inserted here, because all its 
leading ideas are contained in the narrative. It was a convincing 
argument, so far as the reason and justice of the case were concern- 
ed ; and, in any court where reason and justice bore sway, would 
liave gained the case. " Should you find, gentleman," concluded 
Mr. Greeley, " that I had no right to express an opinion as to the 
honor and magnanimity of Mr. Cooper, in pushing his case to a trial 
as related, you will of course compel me to pay whatever damage 
has been done to his character by such expression, followed and ac 



MR. COOPER SUMS UP. Vj [ 

sompanied by his own statement of tlie whole matter. I will not 
predict j'our estimate, gentlemen, but I may express my profound 
conviction that no opinion which Mr. Cooper might choose to express 
of any act of my life — no construction he could put upon my con- 
duct or motives, could possibly damage nie to an extent whicli 
would entitle or incline me to ask damages at your hands. 

" But, gentlemen, you are bound to consider — you cannot refuse 
to consider, that if you condenm me to pay any sum whatever for 
this expression of my opinions on his conduct, you thereby seal your 
own lips, with those of your neighbors and countrymen, against any 
such expression in this or any other case ; you will no longer have 
a right to censure the rich man who harasses his poor neighbor with 
vexatious lawsuits merely to oppress and ruin him, but will be lia- 
ble by your own verdict to prosecution and damages whenever you 
shall feel constrained to condemn what appears to you injustice, op- 
pression, or littleness, no matter how flagrant the case may be. 

" Gentlemen of the Jury, my character, my reputation are in your 
bands. I think I may say that I commit them to your keeping un- 
tarnished ; I will not doubt that you will return them to me unsul- 
lied. I ask of you no mercy, but justice. I have not sought this 
usue ; but neither have I feared nor shunned it. Should j^ou render 
the verdict against me, I shall deplore far more than any pecuniary 
consequence the stigma of libeler which your verdict would tend to 
cast upon me — an imputation which I was never, till now, called to 
repel before a jury of my countrymen. But, gentlemen, feeling no 
consciousness of deserving such a stigma — feeling, at this moment, 
as ever, a profound conviction that I do not deserve it, I shall yet 
be consoled by the reflection that many nobler and worthier than I 
have suffered far more than any judgment here could inflict on me 
for the Rights of Free Speech and Opinion — the right of rebuking 
oppression and meanness in the language of manly sincerity and 
honest feeling. By their example, may I still be upheld and 
strengthened. Gentlemen, I fearlessly await your decision I" 

Mr. Greeley resumes his narrative : 

" Mr. J. Feuimoro Cooper summed up in person the cause for the prosecution. 
He eommenceJ by giving at length the reasons which had induced him to 
bring this suit in Saratoga. The last and only one that made any impressioi 



198 THE TRIBT'XE AXD J. FENIMOKE COOPER. 

on our mind was this, that he had heard a great deal of good of the people of 
Saratoga, and wished to form a better acquaintance witk them. (Of course 
this desire was vcrj- flattering ; but we hope the Saratogans won't feel too 
proud to speak to common folks hereafter, for we want liberty to go there again 
next summer.) 

" Mr. Cooper now walked into the Public Press and its a.leged abuses, arro- 
gant pretensions, its interference in this case, probable motives, etc., but the 
public are already aware of his sentiments respecting the Press, and Wv'uld 
not thank us to recapitulate them. Ilis stories of editors publishing trath and 
falsehood with equal relish may have foundation in individual cases, but cer- 
tainly none in general practice. No class of men spend a tenth part so much 
time or money in endeavoring to procure the earliest and best informatior 
from all quarters, as it is their duty to do. Occasionally an erroneous or ut 
terly false statement gets into print and is copied — for editors cannot intuitive- 
ly separate all truth from falsehood— but the evil arises mainly from the cir- 
cumstance that others than editors are often the spectators of events demand- 
ing publicity ; since we cannot tell where the ne.^t man is to be killed, or the 
next storm rage, or the next important cause to be tried : if we had the 
power of prophecy, it would then be time to invent some steam-lightning 
balloon, and have a reporter ready on the spot the moment before any notable 
event should occur. This would do it; but now we luckless editors must too 
often depend on the observation and reports of those who are less observant, 
less careful, possibly \n some cases less sagacious, than those of our own tribe. 
Our limitations are -not unlike those of Mr. Weller, Junior, as stated while 
urnJ^r cross-examination in the case of Bardell vs. Pickwick : 

" ' Yes. I have eyes,' replied Sam, ' and that 's just it. If they was a pair 
of patent double million magnifyin' gas microscopes of hextra power, p'raps 
I might be ab'e to see through a flight of stairs and a deal door, but bein' 
only eyes, you see, my wision's limited.' 

" Fenimore proceeded to consider our defense, which he used up in five min- 
ites, by prorcuncing it no defence at all! It had nothing to do with the mat- 
ter in issuo whatever, and we must be very green if we meant to be serious 
-n offering it (We were rather green in Supreme Court libel law, that 's a 
feet; but we were put to school soon after, and have already run up quite a 
dttle bill for tuition, which is one sign of progress.) His Honor the Judge 
would t^ll the Jury that our law was no law whatever, or had nothing tc do 
with tl-is case. (So he did— Cooper was right here.) In short, our speech 
could lot have been meant to apply to this case, but was probably the scrap- 
ings of our editorial closet — mere odds and ends — what the editors call 3a- 
laac",' Here followed a historical digression, concerning what editors call 
' BaUam,' which, as it was intended to illustrate the irrelevancy of our whole 
argument, we thought very pertinent. It wound up with what was meant for 
».jot9 about Balaam and his ass. which of course was a good thing; but its 



MR. COOPER SUMS UP. 



199 



point wholly escaped us, and we believe the auditors were equally unfortunate. 
However, the wag himself appreciated and enjoyed it. 

" There were several other jokes (wc suppose tbcy were) uttered in the coarse 
of this lively speech, but we did n't get into their merits, (probably not being 
in the best humor for joking;) but one we remembered because it was really 
good, and came down to our comprehension. Fenimore was replying to our 
remarks about the ' handsome Mr. Effingham,' (see speech,) when he observed 
that if we should sue him for libel in ' pronouncing us not handsome, he should 
not plead the General Issue, but Jusltfij.' That was a neat hit, and well 
planted. We can tell him, however, that if the Court should rule as hard 
against him as it does against editors when they undertake to justify, he would 
find it difficult to get in the testimony to establish a matter«even so plain as 
our plainness. 

"Fenimore now took up the Fonda libel suit, and fought the whole battle 
over again, from beginning to end. Now we had scarcely touched on this, sup- 
posing that, since we did not justify, we could only refer to the statements 
contained in the publications put in issue between us, and that the Judge 
would check us, if we went beyond these. Fenimore, however, had no trou- 
ble ; said whatever he pleased — much of which would have been very perti- 
nent if he, instead of we, had been on trial — showed that he did not believe 
anything of Mr. Weed's family being sick at the time of the Fonda Trials, 
why he did not, &c., Ac. We thought he might have reserved aU this till we 
got down to dinner, which everybody was now hungry for, and where it would 
have been more in place than addressed to the Jury. 

"Knowing what we positively did and do of the severe illness of the wife 
of Mr. AYeed. and the dangerous state of his eldest daughter at the time of the 
Fonda Trials in question — regarding them as we do — the jokes attempted to 
be cut by Fenimore over their condition — his talk of the story growing up 
from one girl to the mother and three or four daughters — his fun about their 
probably having the Asiatic cholera among them or some other contagious 
disease, ic, &c., however it may have sounded to others, did seem to us 

rather inhu Hallo there ! we had like to have put our foot right into it 

again, after all our tuition. AYe mean to say, considering that, just the day 
before, Mr. Weed had been choked by his counsel into surrendering at dis- 
cretion to Fenimore, being assured (correctly) by said counsel that, as the law 
u now expounded and administered by the Supreme Court, he had no earthly 
choice but to bow his neck to the yoke, pay all that might be claimed of him 
and publish whatever humiliations should be required, or else prepare to be 
immediately ruined by the suits which Fenimore and Richard had already 
tommenced or were getting ready for him — considering all this, and how much 
Mr. Weed has paid and must piiy towards his subsistence — how keenly W. ha» 
had to smart for speaking his mind of him — we did not think that Feci- 
more's ta]k at this time and place of Weed's family, and of AYeed himself u 



200 THE TRIBUNE AND J. FEXIMORE COOPER. 

a man sG paltry that he would pretend sickness in his family as an excuse tc 
buep away from Court, and resort to trick after trick to put oflf his case for a 
day or two — it seemed to us, considering the present relations of the parties. 

most uno'en There we go again ! We mean to say that the whole of thia 

part of Mr. Cooper's speech grated upon our feelings rather harshly. We be- 
lieve that isn't a libel. (This talking with a gag in the mouth is rather awk- 
ward at first, but we '11 get the hang of it in time. Have patience with us, 
Fenimore on one side and the Public on the other, till we nick it.) 

" Personally, Fenimore treated us pretty well on this trial — let us thank 
him for that — and so much the more that he did it quite at the expense of his 
consistency and Ms logic. For, after stating plumply that he considered us 
the best of the whole Press-gang he had been fighting with, he yet went on to 
argue that all we had done and attempted with the intent of rendering him strict 
justice, had been in aggravation of our original trespass ! Yes, there he stood, 
saying one moment that we were, on the whole, rather a clever fellow, and 
every other arguing that we had done nothing but to injure him wantonly and 
maliciously at first, and then all in our power to aggravate that injury! 
(What a set the rest of us must be !) 

" And here is where he hit us hard for the first time. He had talked ov