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[YOUNG GREELEY'S ARRIVAL IN XEU-YORK.) 



THE LIFE 



or 



HOPiAGE GBEELEi; 



EDITOR OF THE XETV TOKK TS.l'B'V^'E . 



BY J. 



I^AiEiTd 









" If, on a fall and final re-riew, my life and practice shall be fonud im-worthy my princi- 
ples, let dne infamy be heaped on my memory ; trnt let none be thereby led to distrust the prin- 
ciples to which I proved recreant, nor yet the ability of pome to adorn them by a soitable life 
End conversation. To nnerriag time be ail this committed." , 



ee7.e^l 



NEW YORK: 
PUBLISHED BY MASON BROTHERS, 

18 5 5. 



I 



A' . OFU- 



fUiiLiCLIBRAR^' 

162566 

ASTOR. LENOX "ND 
TILDLN FOUNDATIONS. 

1899. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 185-1, 
^ , . , BY MASQN .PUOTHERS, 

bi tbe: CJiJifcb OffltA of tJVi JPistrteT ^Uri for the Southern District 



ol NeW YOili. 



m 



4 



STBRIOTTPBD BY 

THOMAS B. SMITH, 
216 William St., N. Y. 



FRINTSD BT 

JOHN A. GRAY, 
93 & 97 Cliff St. 



.J.%^' 

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TO 



THE YOUNG MEN OF THE FREE STATES, 

%\)h i0hniu 

IS R E S P E C T F U L.Ii.Y.'D E niX^ A T E D 

/ > , J J J J J , 
'. , 1 > 1 

, : 1 j> , , , , 

BY ONE OF 'Yll^%t\'1si,'WJi:E'yi. 



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*•• •• 



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TIIE JOURNALISTS ARE NOW THE TRUE EINGS AND CLERGY: HENCE- 
FORTH HISTORIANS, UNLESS THEY ARE FOOLS, MUST WRITE NOT OP BOUR- 
BON DYNASTIES, AND TUDORS, AND HAPSBURGS ; BUT OF STAMPED, BROAD- 
SHEET DYNASTIES, AND QUITE NEW SUCCESSIVE NAMES, ACCORDING AS 

THIS OR THE OTHER ABLE EDITOR, OR COMBINATION OP ABLE EDITORS, 

* 
GAINS THE WORLD'S EAR. 

Sartor Besartus. 



X tiR 1 1. 



Justice, alike to the author and to his subject, demands 
the explicit statement of a fact. 

Horace Greeley is wholly innocent of this book. Until I 
had determined to wi'ite it, I had no acquaintance with him of 
a personal nature, and no connection except that which exists 
between every subscriber to the Tribune and its editor. 
Since that time, I have had a few short interviews with him — 
heard and overheard a few facts of his career from his own lips 
—'had two or three of my best stories spoiled by his telling 
me that that part of them which redounded most to his credit 
was untrue. He has had nothmsj whatever to do with the com- 
position of the volume, nor has he seen a page of it in manu- 
script or proof, nor does he know one word of its contents. 

I undertook the task simply and solely because I liked the 
man, because I gloried in his career, because I thought the 
story of his life ought to be told. 

The writings of an editor usually pass away with the occa- 
sions that called them forth. They may have aroused, amused. 



Vlli r E E F A C E . 

instructed and advanced a nation — many nations. They may 
have saved or overturned systems and dynasties ; provoked or 
prevented â– svars, revolutions and disasters ; thrown around 
Prejudice and Bigotry ihe decent mantle of Respectability, or 
torn it off; made great truths familiar and fruitful in the pub- 
lic mind, or given a semblance of dignity to the vulgar hue 
and 'cry M'hich assails such truths always when they are new. 
These things, and others equally important, an editor may do, 
editors have done. But he rarely has leisure to produce a 
WORK which shall perpetuate his name and personal influence. 
A collection of his editorial writings will not do it, for he is 
compelled to write hastily, diffusely, and on the topics of the 
hour. The story of his life may. It is the simple narratives 
in Franklin's autobiography that have perpetuated, not the 
name of that eminent man, the thunder and lightning have his 
name in charge, but the influence of his personality in forming 
the characters of his countrymen. 

The reader has a right to know the manner in which the facts 
and incidents of this work were obtained. I procured, first of 
all, from various sources, a list of Mr. Greeley's early friends, 
partners and relations ; also, a list of the places at which he 
has resided. All of those places I visited ; with as many of 
those persons as I could find I conversed, and endeavored to 
extract from them all they knew of the early life of my hero. 
From their nan*atives, and from the letters of others to whom 
I wrote, the account of his early life was compiled. To all of 
them, for the readiness with which they made their communi 
cations, to many of them for their generous and confiding hos 



PREFACE. IX 

pitality to a stranger, I again offer the poor return of my sin- 
cere thanks. 

For the rest, I am indebted to the following works : E. L. 
Parker's History of Londonderry ; the Bedford Centennial ; 
the New Hampshire Book ; the Rose of Sharon ; the Life of 
Margaret Fuller ; Horace Greeley's Hints towards Reforms, 
and Glances at Europe ; also, to files of the New Yorker, Log 
Cabin, Jeffersonian, American Laborer, Whig Almanac, and 
Tribune. Nearly every number — there are more than five 
thousand numbers in all — of each of those periodicals, I have 
examined, and taken from them what they contain respecting 
the life and fortunes of their editor. 

Tliis book is as true as I could make it ; nothing has been in- 
serted or suppressed for the sake of making out a case. Er- 
rors of detail in a work containing so many details as this can 
scarcely be avoided ; but upon the correctness of every import- 
ant statement, and upon the general fidelity of the picture 
presented, the reader may rely. Hoi'ace Greeley, as the read- 
er will discover, has been a marked person from his earliest 
childhood, and he is remembered by his early friends with a 
vividness and affection very extraordinary. Moreover, in the 
political and personal contentions of his public life, he has fre- 
quently been compelled to become autobiographical ; therefore, 
in this volume he often tells his own story. That he tells it 
truly, that he is incapable of insincerity, every one with truth j 
enough in his heart to recognize truth in others will perceive. 

The opinion has been recently expressed that the life of a 
man ought not to be written in his lifetime. To which, among 



X PREFACE. 

many other tilings, this might be replied : If the lives of pol 
iticians like Tyler, Pierce, and others, may be written in 
their lifetime, with a view to subserve the interests of party, 
why may not the life of Horace Greeley, in the hope of sub- 
serving the interests of the country 1 Besides, those who think 
this work ought not to have been Avritten are at liberty not to 
read it. 

There are those who will read it ; and, imperfect as it is, with 
pleasure. They are those who have taken an interest in Hor- 
ace Greeley's career, and would like to Imow how he came to 
3e the man he is. J. P. 

New York, December, 1854, 



CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE SOOTCH-IEISH OF NEW HAMPSHIRE. 

rAGB 
Londonderry in Ireland— The Siege— Emigration to New England— Settlement of 
Londonderry, New Hampshire — The Scotch-Irish introduce the culture of the 
potato and the manufacture of linen — Chai'acter of the Scotch-Irish — Their sim- 
plicity — Love of fun — Stories of the early clergymen— Traits in the Scotch-Irish 
character — Zeal of the Londonderrians in the Kevolutiou — Horace Greeley's al- 
usion to his Scotch-Irish ancestry ID 

CHAPTER II. 

ANCESTORS. — PARENTAGE. — BIRTH. 

Origin of the Family — Old Captain Ezekiel Greeley — Zaccheus Greeley — Zacchens 
the Second — Roughness and Tenacity of the Greeley race — Maternal Ancestors of 
Horace Greeley — John VVoodburn — Character of Horace Greeley's Great-grand- 
mother — His Grandmother — Romantic Incident — Horace Greeley is born "as 
black as a chimney" — Cornea to his color — Succeeds to the name of Horace 28 

CHAPTER III. 

EARLT CHILDHOOD. 

The 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 Londonderry — A district school forty 
years ago — Horace as a young orator — Has a mania for spelling hard words — 
Gets great glory at the spelling school — Recolleclions 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 hia 
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 us do 
our stint first— His way of fishing 34 



Xn C0XTE>'T3, 



CHAPTER I\\ 

HIS FATHER ETI5E D — -R EHOYAL XO VERMONT. 

Kew Hampshire before the era of mannfhctares— Canaea of his father's failure — 
Earn in the olden time — ^An execntion in the house — ^Flight of the father — Horace 
and the Bum Jiig — Compromise with the creditors — Bemoval to another farm — 
final rain — ^Eemoral to Vermont — The winter journey — Poverty of the funiiy — 
Scene at (heir new home — Cbeerfcdness iu misfortane 53 



CrL\PTER V. 

AT WESTHAVEX, VEE3I05T. 

Description of the coantry — Clearing up Land— All the family assist d la Swisa- 
Family-Robinaon — Primitive costume of Horace — His early Indifference to dress 
— His manner and attitude in school — A Peacemaker amoDg the boys — Gets into 
a scrape, and out of it — Assists his school-fellows in their studies — An evening 
scene at home — Horace knows too much — Dijconcerts his teachers by his ques- 
tions — Leaves school — The pine-knots still blaze on the hearth — Reads incessant- 
ly — Becomes a great draught player— Bee-hunting — Beads at the JXansion House 
— Taken for an Idiot — And for a possible President — Beads Mrs. Hemans with 
rapture — 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 — ^Hia religious doubts — Becomes a 
Universalist — Discovers the humbug of " Democracy" — Impatient to begin his ap- 
prenticeship 57 



CH.\PTER VI. 

AFPBEKTICESHIP. 

The Village of East Poultney — Horace applies for the Place — Scene in the 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 him 
— The Pack of Cards — Horace begins to paragraph— Joins the Debating Society — 
Hia 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-Eiicjclopedia— The Doctor's Story— PvecoUections of one of his fellow ap- 
prentices — Horace's favorite Poets — Politics of the time — The Anti-Mason Excite- 
ment—The Xorthem Spectator stops — The Apprentice is Free 62 



CONTEXTS. Xlll 

CHAPTER VII. 

HE AV A ^â–  D E E S . 

PAGE 

Horace Ivjaves PoTiltDeT— His first Overcoat— Home to his Father's Log Honse— 
Ranges the country for -wori — The Sore Leg Cored — Gels Emplorment, but UtJe 
Money — Astonishes the Draught-Piayers — Goes to Erie, Pa. — Inlerriew -wiih an 
Editor — Becomes a Jouruevman in the OflSce — Description of Erie — The Lake — 
His Generositj- to his Father— His new clclhes— Xo more work at Erie — Starts for 
New York ,-^ 103 

CHAPTER VHI. 

AEEITAL IN KETT TOEK. 

The Journey — a night on the tow-path — He reaches the cat — InTentory of his prop- 
erty — Looks for a boarding-honse — Finds one — Expends half his capital upon 
clothes — Searches for employment — Berated by David Hale as a runaway ap- 
prentice — Continues the search — Goes to church — Hears of a Tacancy — Obtains 

work — The boss lakes 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 113 



CHAPTER IX. 

FEOM OFFICE TO OFFICE. 

Leaves West's— Works on the ' Evening Post ' — Story of Mr. Leggelt — ' Commer- 
cial Advertiser ' — ' Spirit of the Times ' — Specimen of his writing at this period — 
Naturally fond of the drama — Timothy Wiggins — Works for Mr. Redfield — The 
first lift 133 



CHAPTER X. 

THE FIE ST PENNY PAPE E — A ND y^ TI O THOUGHT OF IT 

Importance of the cheap daily press — The originator of the idea — History of the 
idea — Dr. Sheppard's Chatham-street cogitations— The Idea is conceived — It is 
bom — Interview with Horace Greeley — The Doctor thinks he is ' no common boj* 
— The schemer baffled — Daily papers twenty-five 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. . .. J37 



XIV CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XL 

THE riRM CONTINUES. 

PAGE 

Lottery printing — The Constitutionalist — Dudley S. Gregor\' — The lottery suicide — 
Tlie firm prospers — Sudden deatli of Mr. Story — A new partner — Mr. Greeley as a 
master — A dinner story — Sylvester Graliam — Horace Greeley at the Graham 
House — The New Yorker projected— James Gordon Bennett 1 4C 

CHAPTER XII. 

EDITOE OF THE NEW TOEKEE. 

Character of the paper — Its early fortunes— Happiness of the Editor — Scene in the 
Office — Specimens of Horace Greeley's Poetry — Subjects of his Essays — His Opin- 
ions then — His Marriage — The Silk-stocking Story— A day in Washington — His 
impressions of the Senate — Pecuniary difficulties — 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 — Henry J. Raymond 131 

CHAPTER Xni. 

THE JEFFEESONIAN. 

Objects of tho Jefiersonian— Its character — A novel Glorious-Victory paragraph — 
The Graves and Cilley duel — The Editor overworked 174 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE LOG CABIN . — " TIPPECANOE AND TYLEE TOO." 

Wire-pulling— The delirium of 1840— The Log Cabin— Unprecedented hit— A 
glance at its pages — Log Cabin jokes— Log Cabin song — Horace Greeley and 
the cake-basket — Pecuniary difficulties continue — The Tribune annoimced 18a 



CHAPTER XV. 

STARTS THE TEIBTNE. 

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 Edi- 
tors—Their independence— Horace Greeley and John Tyler— The Tribune a 
Fixed Fact 191 



CONTEKTS. 5V 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE TEIBTINE AND FOUEIEEISM. 

PAGE 

What made Horace Greeley a Socialist — The hard winter of 1838 — Albert Brisbane 
— The subject broached — Series of articles by Jlr. Brisoane begun — Their effect — 
Ciy of Mad Dog — Discussion between Horace Greeley and Henry J. Raymond — 
How it arose — Abstract of it in a conversational form 1U9 

CHAPTER XVII, 

THE TEIBTTNE's SECOND YEAE. 

Increase of price — The Tribune offends the Sixth Ward flghling-men — The office 
Threatened — Novel preparations for defense — Charles Dickens defended — The 
Editor travels — Visits Washington, and sketches the Senators — At Mount Vernon 
-At Niagara— A hard hit at Major Noah 217 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE TEIBTJNE AND J. FENIMOEE COOPEE. 

The libel — Horace Greeley's narrative of the trial — He reviews the opening speech 
of Mr. Cooper's counsel — A striking illustration — Ho 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 bee-line for New York— A new suit— An imaginary case 22-1 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE TEIBTJNE CONTINUES. 

The Special Express system— Night adventures of Enoch Ward— Gig Express— Ex- 
press from Halifax — Baulked 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 defeat — The Tribune and Slavery 
— Burning of the Tribune Building — The Editor's reflections upon the fire 240 



CHAPTER XX. 

MAEGAEET FTJLLEE. 

Her writings in the Tribune— She resides with Mr. Greeley — His narrative — Dietetic 
Sparring — Her manner of writing — Woman's Rights — Her generosity — Her Inde- 
pendence—Her love of children — Jlargaret and Pickie — Her opinion of Mr. Gree- 
ley— Death of Pickie 253 



XVI CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER XXr. 

EDITORIAL REPARTEES. 

PAGE 

At 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— Tlie modern drama — Hit at Dr. Hawks— Disso- 
lution of the Union- Dr. Franlilin's story— A Picture for Polk— Cliarles Dickens 
and Copyright— Charge of malignant falsehood— Preaching and Practice— Col. 
Webb severely hit— Hostility to the Mexican war — Violence incited— A few 
Bparks— The course of the Tribune- Wager with the Herald 2G3 

CHAPTER XXII. 
1848! 

Revolution in Europe— The Tribune exults— The Slievegammon letters— Taylor and 
Fillmore — Course of the Tribune — Horace Greeley at Vauxhall Garden— His elec- 
tion to Congress 2S2 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

THREE MONTHS IN CONGRESS. 

His objects as a Member of Congress— His first acts— The Chaplain hypocris.v— The 
Land Reform Bill — Distributing the Documents— Offers a novel Resolution- Tlie 
Mileage 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— Traveling dead- 
head—Personal explanations— A dry haul— The amendment game— Congression- 
al dignity— Battle of the Books— The Recruiting System— The last night of the 
Session— The 'usual gratuity'— The Inauguration Ball— Farewell to his constitu- 
ents 288 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

ASSOCIATION IN THE TRIBUNE OFFICE. 

Accessions to the corps— The course of the Tribune— Horace Greeley in Ohio— The 
Rochester knockings— The mediums at Mr. Greeley's house— Jenny Lind goes to 
see them— Her behavior— Woman's Rights Convention— The Tribune Associa- 
tion — The hireling system 319 



CONTENTS. XVn 



CHAPTER XXy. 

ON THE PLATFOE M. — II INTS TOWARDS KEF0IJM3. 

PACK 

Tho Lecture System — Comparative popularily of the leading Lecturers — Horace 
Greeley at tlio Tabernacle — His audience — His appearance — His manner of-spealc- 
ing — His occasional addresses — The ' Hints ' published — Its one subject, the 
Emancipation of Labor — The Problems of the Time— The 'successful' man — Tho 
duty of the State — Tho educated class — A nairative for workingmen — Tne catas- 
trophe 326 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

THREE MONTHS IN EUROPE. 

The Voyage out— First impression of England — Opening of the Exhibition— Char- 
actcrisUc observations — He attends a grand Banquet — He sees the Sights — Ho 
speaks at Exeter Hall — The Phiy at Devwishirc House — Robert Owen's birth-day 
— Horace Greeley before a Committee of the House of Commons — He throws 
light upon the subject — Vindicates tho American Press — Journey to Paris — The 
Sights of Paris — The Opera and Ballet — A false Prophet— His opinion of tho 
Freuch^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 Bound — His arrival — The Extra Tribune 346 



CHAPTER XXVIl. 

RECENTLY. 

Deliverance from Party — A Private Platform — Last Interview with Henry Clay — 
Horace Greeley a Farmer — He irrigates and drains — His Advice to a Young Jlan 
—The Daily Times— A costly Mistake- The Isms of the Tribune— Tho Tribune 
gets Glory — The Tribune in Parliament — Proposed Nomination for Governor — 
Ills Life written- A Judge's Daughter for Sale 375 



CHAPTER XXVni. 

DAT AND NIGHT IN THE TRIBUNE OFFICE. 

The streets before daybreak — Waking the newsboys— Morning scene in the press- 
room — The Compositor's room— The four Phalanxes — The Tribune Directory — A 
lull in the Tribune ofDce — A glance at the paper— The advertisements — Tele- 
graphic marvels — Marine Intelligence — New Publications — Letters from the peo- 



XVm CONTENTS. 

TAOE 

pie — Editorial articles — The editorial Rooms— Tlie Sanctum Sanctorum— Solon 
Robinson— Bayard Taylor— William Henry Fry— George Ripley- Charles A. 
Dana — F. J. Otlarson— George M. Snow— Enter Horace Greeley — His Prelimin- 
ary botheration — The composing-room in the evening — The editors at work — 
Mr. Greeley's manner of writing — Midnight— Three o'clock in the morning — The 
carriers 391 



CIIAPTEP. XXIX. 

POSITION AND INFLUENCE OF HOEAOE GREELEY. 

At the head of his Profession — Extent of his Influence — Nature of his Influence — 
A Conservative-Radical — His Practical Suggestions — To Aspiring Young Men — 
Have a Home of your own — ^To Young Mechanics — Coming to the City — A La- 
bor-Exchange—Pay as you go — To the Lovers of Knowledge — To Young Orators 
— The Colored People — To young Lawyers and Doctors — To an inquiring Slave- 
holder—To Country Editors— In Peace, prepare for War — To Country Merchants 
—Tenement Houses 411 



CHAPTER XXX. 

APPEARANCE — MANNERS — HABITS. 

His person and countenance — Phrenological developments — His rustic manners- 
Town eccentricities — Horace Greeley in Broadway — 'Horatius' at church — Horace 
Greeley at home 421 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Conclusion , 43-1 



THE LIFE OF HORACE GREELEY. 



> > ^ t â–  



CHAPTER I. 

THE SCOTCH-IRISH OF NEW HAMPSHIRE. 

Londonderry in Ireland — The Siege — Emigration to New England — Settlement of 
Londonderry, New Hampshire — The Scotch-Irish introduce the culture of the 
potato and the manufacture of linen — Character of the Scotch-Irish — Their sim- 
plicity — Love of fun — Stories of the early clergymen — Traits in the Scotch- 
Irish character — Zeal of the Londonderrians In the Revolution — Horace Greeley's 
allusion to his Scotch-Irish ancestry. 

New IlAMPsnrRE, the native State of Horace Greeley, was set- 
tled in part by colonists from ATassacliusetts and Connecticut, and 
in part by emigrants from tlie nortli of Ireland. The latter were 
called Scotch-Irish, for a reason which a glance at their history 
Avill show, 

Ulster, the most northern of the four provinces of Ireland, has 
been, during the last two hundred and fifty years, superior to the 
rest in wealth and civilization. The cause of its superiority is 
known. About the year 1612, when James I. was king, there was 
a rebellion of the Catholics in the north of Ireland. Upon its sup- 
pression, Ulster, embracing the six northern counties, and contain- 
ing half a million acres of land, fell to the king by the attainder 
of the rebels. Under royal encom-agement and furtherance, a com- 
pany was formed in London for the purpose of planting colonies in 
that fertile province, which lay waste from the ravages of the re- 
cent war. The land was divided into shares, the largest of which 
did not exceed two thousand acres. Colonists were invited over 
from England and Scotland. The natives were expeUed from their 
fastnesses in the hiUs, and forced to settle upon the plains. Somo 



CO THE SCOTCn-IRlSH OF NEW HAMPSHIRE. 

efforts, it appears, were made to teach theui arts and agriculture. 
Ilobbery and assassination Avere punished. And, thus, by the in- 
fusion of new blood, and the partial improvement of the ancient 
race, Ulster, which had been the most savage and turbulent of the 
Irish provinces, became, and remains to this day, the best culti- 
vated, the richest, and the most civilized. 

One of the six counties was Londonderry, the capital of Avhich, 
called by the same name, had been sacked and razed during the 
rebellion. The city was now rebuilt by a company of adventurers 
from London, and the county was settled by a colony from Argylc- 
shire in Scotland, who were thenceforth called Scotch-Irish. Of 
what stuff these Scottish colonists were made, their after-history 
amply and gloriously shows. The colony took root and flourished 
in Londonderry. In 1G89, the year of the immortal siege, the city 
was an important fortified town of twenty-seven thousand inhabit- 
ants, and the county was proportionally populous and productive. 
William of Orange had reached the British throne. James II. re- 
turning from France had landed in Ireland, and was making an 
effort to recover his lost inheritance. The Irish Catholics were 
still loyal to him, and hastened to rally round his banner. But 
Ulster was Protestant and Presbyterian ; the city of Londonderry 
was Ulster's stronghold, and it was the chief impediment in the 
way of James' proposed descent upon Scotland. "With what reso- 
lution and daring the people of Londondeny, during the ever-mem- 
orable siege of that city, fought and endured for Protestantism and 
freedom, the world well knows. For seven months they held out 
against a besieging army, so numerous that its slain numbered nine 
thousand. The besieged lost three thousand men. To such ex- 
tremities were they reduced, that among the market quotations of 
the times, we find items like these:— a quarter of a dog, five shil- 
lings and six-pence ; a dog's head, two and six-pence ; horse-flesh, 
one and six-pence per pound ; horse-blood, one shilling per quart ; a 
cat, four and six-pence; a rat, one shilling; a mouse, six-pence. 
When all the food that remained in the city was nine half-starved 
horses and a pint of meal per man, the people were still resolute. 
At the very last extremity, they were relieved by a provisioned 
fleet, and the army of James retired in despair. 

On the settlement of the kingdom under William and Mary, the 



EMiaRATION TO NEW ENGLAND. 21 

Presbyterians of Londonderry did not find themselves in tho en- 
joyment of the freedom to which they conceived themselves enti- 
tled. They were dissenters from the established church. Their 
pastors were not recognized by the law as clergymen, nor their 
places of Avorship as churches. Tithes Avere exacted for the support 
of the Episcopal clergy. They were not proprietors of the soil, 
but held their lands as tenants of the crown. They were hated 
alike, and equally, by the Irish Catholics and the English Episcopa- 
lians. "When, therefore, in 1617, a son of one of the leading cler- 
gyman returned from New England with glowing accounts of that 
' plantation,' a furor of emigration arose in the town and county 
of Londonderry, and portions of four Presbyterian congregations, 
with their four pastors, united in a scheme for a simultaneous remo- 
val across the seas. One of the clergymen was first despatched to 
Boston to make the needful inquiries and arrangements. He was 
the bearer of an address to " His Excellency, the Right Honorable 
Colonel Samuel Smith, Governor of New England," which assured 
his Excellency of " our sincere and hearty inclination to transport 
ourselves to that very excellent and renowned plantation, upon our 
obtaining from his Excellency suitable encoui'agement." To this 
address, the original of which still exists, two hundred and sevei^ 
names were appended, and all but seven in the hand-writing of the 
individuals signing — a fact which proves the superiority of tho emi- 
grants to the majority of their countrymen, both in position and 
intelligence. One of the subscribers was a baronet, nine were cler- 
gymen, and three others were graduates of the University of Ed- 
inburgh. 

â–  On the fourth of August, 1718, the advance party of Scotch- 
Irish emigrants arrived in five ships at Boston. Some of them re- 
mained in that city and founded the church in Federal street, of which 
Dr. Channing was afterwards pastor. Others attempted to settle in 
Worcester ; but as they were Irish and Presbyterians, such a 
storm of prejudice against them arose among the enlightened 
Congregationalists of that place, that thoy were obliged to flee be- 
fore it, and seek refuge in the less populous places of Massachusetts. 
Si-xteen families, after many months of tribulation and wandering, 
selected for their permanent abode a tract twelve miles square, 
called. IsTutfield, which now embraces the townships of London- 



'22 THE SCOTCH-IRISH OF NEW HAMPSHIRE. 

deny, Deny and Windham, in Rockingham county, New Hamp- 
shire. The land was a free gift from the king, in consideration of 
the services rendered his throne by the people of Londonderry in the 
defence of tlicir city. To each settler was assigned a farm of one 
hundred and twenty acres, a house lot, and an out lot of sixty 
acres. The lands of the men who had personally served during 
the siege, w'ere exempted from taxation, and â– were known down to 
the period of the revolution as the Exempt Farms. The settle- 
ment of Londonderry attracted new emigrants, and it soon became 
one of the most prosperous and famous in the colony. 

It was there that the potato was first cultivated, and there that 
linen -was first made in ISTew England. The English colonists at that 
day appear to have been unacquainted with the culture of the po- 
tato, and the familiar story of the Andover farmer who mistook the 
balls Avhich grow on the potato vine for the genuine fruit of the 
plant, is mentioned by a highly respectable historian of New Hamp- 
shire as " a well-authenticated foct." 

With regard to the linen manufacture, it may be mentioned as a 
proof of the thrift and skill of the Scotch-L'ish settlers, that, as early 
as the year 1748, the linens of Londonderry had so high a reputa- 
tion in the colonies, that it was found necessary to take measures to 
prevent the linens made in other towns from being fraudulently sold 
for those of Londonderry manufacture. A town meeting was held 
in that year for the purpose of appointing " fit and proper persons 
to survey and inspect linens and hoUands made in the town for sale, 
so that the credit of our manufactory be kept up, and the purchaser 
of our linens may not be imposed upon with foreign and outlandish 
linens in the name of ours." Inspectors and sealers were accord- 
ingly appointed, who were to examine and stamp "all the hollands 
made and to be made in our town, -whether brown, white, speckled, 
or checked, that are to be exposed for sale ;" for which service they 
were empowered to demand from the owner of said linen " sixpence, 
old tenor, for each piece." And this occurred within thirty years 
from the erection of the first log-hut in the township of London- 
derry. However, the people had brought their spinning and Aveav- 
ing implements Avith them from Ireland, and their industry was not 
once interrupted by an attack of Indians, 

These Scotch-Irish of Londonderry were a very peculiar people. 



CHARACTER OF THE SCOTCH-IRISH, 23 

' Tliey were Scotch-Irish in cliaracter and in name ; of Irish viva- 
city, generosity, and daring; Scotcli in frugality, industry, and reso- 
lution ; a race ia whose composition nature seems, for once, to have 
kindly blended the qualities that. render men interesting with those 
that render them prosperous. Their habits and their minds were 
simple. They lived, for many years after the settlement began to 
thrive, upon the fish which they caught at the falls of Amoskeag, 
upon game, and upon such products of the soil as beans, potatoes, 
samp, and barley. It is only since the year 1800 that tea and coffee, 
those ridiculous and effeminating drinks, came into anything like 
general use among them. It was not till some time after the Revo- 
lution that a chaise was seen in Londonderry, and even then it ex- 
cited great wonder, and was deemed an unjustifiable extravagance. 
Shoes, we are told, were little worn in the summer, except on Sun- 
days and holidays ; and then they were carried in the hand to within 
a short distance of the churchy where they loere 2^ut on ! There was 
little buying and selling among them, but much borrowing and 
lending. " If a neighbor killed a calf," says one writer, " no part 
of it was sold ; but it was distributed among relatives and friends, 
the poor widow always having a piece; and the minister, if he did 
not get the shoulder, got a portion as good." The women were ro- 
bust, worked on the farms in the busy seasons, reaping, mowing, 
and even ploughing on occasion; and the hum of the spinning- 
wheel was heard in every house. An athletic, active, indomitable, 
prohfic, long-lived race. For a couple to have a dozen children, 
and for all the twelve to reach maturity, to marry, to have large 
families, and die at a good old age, seems to have been no uncom- 
mon case among the original Londonderrians. 

Love of fun was one of their marked characteristics. One of 
their descendants, the Eev. J. H. Morrison, has written — "A prom- 
inent trait in the character of the Scotch-Irish was their ready wit. 
No subject was kept sacred from it; the thoughtless, the grave, the 
old, and the young, alike enjoyed it. Oui- fathers were serious, 
thoughtful men, but they lost no occasion which might promise sport. 
Weddings, huskings, log-rollings and raisings — wbat a host of queer 
stories is connected with them ! Our ancestors dearly loved fun. 
There was a grotesque humor, and yet a seriousness, pathos and 
strangeness about them, which in its way has, perhaps, never been 



24 TPIE SCOTCU-IRISn OF NEW HAMPSIIIRI?:. 

equalled. It was tlic sternness of the Scotch Covenanter, softenea 
hy a century's residence abroad, amid persecution and trial, wedded 
to the comic humor and pathos of tlic Irish, and then grown wild 
in the woods among their own l^ew England mountains." 

There never existed a people at once so jovial and so religious. 
This volume could be filled witli a collection of their religious re- 
partees and pious jokes. It was Pat. Larkin, a Scotch-Irishman, 
near Londonderry, Avho, when he was accused of being a Catholic, 
because his parents were Catholics, replied : "If a man happened 
to be born in a stable, would that make him a horse ?" and he won 
his bride by that timely spark. 

Quaint, bold, and witty were the old Scotch-Irish clergymen, 
the men of the siege, as mighty with carnal weapons as with 
spiritual. There was no taint of the sanctimonious in their rough, 
honest, and healthy natures. During the old French war, it is re- 
lated, a British officer, in a peculiarly "stunning" uniform, came 
ane Sunday morning to the Londonderry Meeting House. Deefjly 
conscious was this individual that he was exceedingly well dressed 
and he took pains to display his finery and his figure by standing 
in an attitude, during the delivery of the sermon, which had the 
effect of withdrawing the minds of tiie young ladies from the same. 
At length, the minister, who had both fought and preached in 
Londonderry ' at home,' and feared neither man, beast, devil, nor 
red-coat, addressed the officer thus : " Ye are a braw lad ; ye ha'e 
a braw suit of claithes, and we ha'e a' seen them ; ye may sit 
doun^'' The ofiicer subsided instantly, and old Dreadnought went 
on with his sermon as though nothing had happened. The same 
clergyman once began a sermon on the vain self-confidence of St. 
Peter, with the following energetic remarks : " Just like Peter, aye, 
mair forrit than wise, ganging swaggering about wi' a sword at his 
side; an' a puir hand he made of it when he came to the trial; for 
he only cut off a chiel's lug, an' he ougM to ha'' split down his 
heady On another occasion, he is said to have opened on a well- 
known text in this fashion : " ' I can do all things ;' ay, can ye 
Paul ? I'll bet ye a dollar o' that (placing a dollar on the desk). 
But stop ! let 's see what eke Paul says : ' I can do all things 
through Christ, which strengtheneth me ;' ay, sae can I, Paul. I 
draw my bet," and he returned the dollar to his pocket. Thej 



TRAITS IN THE SCOTCH CHARACTER. 25 

prayed a joke sometimes, those Scotch-Irish clergymen. One pastor, 
dining with a neAV settler, who had no table, and served up his 
dinner in a basket, implored Heaven to bless the man " in his haskel, 
and in his store ;" wliich Heaven did, for the man afterwards grew 
rich. " Wliat is the difference," asked a youtb, "between the Con- 
gregationalists and Presbyterians?" "The difference is," replied 
the pastor, with becoming gravity, "that the Congregationalist 
goes home between the services and eats a regular dinner; but the 
Presbyterian puts off his till after meeting." 

And how pious they were ! For many years after the settle- 
ment, the omission of the daily act of devotion in a single household 
would have excited general alarm. It is related as a fact, that 
the first pastor of Londonderry, being informed one evening that 
an individual was becoming neglectful of family worship, imme- 
diately repaired to his dwelling. Tiie family had retired; he called 
up the master of the house, inquired if the report were true, and 
asked him whether he had omitted family prayer that evening. The 
man confessed that he had ; and the pastor, havmg admonished him 
of his fault, refused to leave the house until the delinquent had called 
up his wife, and performed with her the omitted observance. The 
first settlers of some of the towns near Londonderry walked every 
Sunday eight, ten, twelve miles to church, taking their children 
with them, and crossing the Merrimac in a canoe or on a raft. 
The first public enterprises of every settlement were the building of 
a church, the construction of a block-house for defense against the 
Indians, and the establishment of a school. In the early times of 
course, every man went to church with his gun, and the minister 
preached peace and good-will Avith a loaded musket peering above 
the sides of the pulpit. 

The Scotch-Irish were a singularly honest people. There is an 
entry in the town-record for 1734, of a complaint against John 
Morrison, that, having found an axe on the road, he did not leave 
it at the next tavern, ' as the laws of the country doth require.' John 
acknowledged the fact, but pleaded in extenuation, that the axe 
was of so small value, that it would not have paid the cost of pro- 
claiming. The session, however, censured him severely, and ex- 
horted him to repent of the evil. The following is a curious extract 
from the records of a Scotch-Irish settlement for 1756 : " Voted., to 

2 



26 THE SCOTCH-IRISH OF KEW HAWPSilIKB, 

give Mr. Jolin Houston equal to forty pounds sterling, in old tej)or, 
as the law shall find the rate in dollai-s or sterling money, for his 
yearly stipend, if he is our ordained minister. And Avhat number 
of Sabbath days, annually, we shall think ourselves not able to pay 
him, he shall have at his own use and disposal, deducted out of the 
aforesaid sum in proportion." The early records of those settle- 
ments abound in evidence, that the people had an habitual and 
most scrupulous regard for the rights of one another. 

Kind, generous, and compassionate, too, they were. Far back in 
1725, when the little colOny was but seven years old, and the people 
were struggling with their first difficulties, we find the session or- 
dering two collections in the church, one to assist James Clark to 
ransom his son from the Indians, which produced five pounds, and 
another for the relief of "William Moore, whose two cows had been 
killed by the falling of a tree, which produced three pounds, seven- 
teen shillings. These were great sums in those early days. We 
read, also, in the History of Londonderry, of MacGregor, its first 
pastor, becoming the champion and defender of a personal enemy 
who was accused of arson, but whom the magnanimous pastor 
believed innocent. He volunteered his defense in court. The man 
was condemned and imprisoned, but MacGregor continued his ex- 
ertions in behalf of the prisoner until his innocence was established 
and the judgment was reversed. 

That they were a brave people need scarcely be asserted. Of 
that very MacGregor the story is told, that when he went out at 
the head of a committee, to remonstrate with a belligerent party, 
who were unlawfully cutting hay from the out-lands of London- 
derry, and one of the hay-stealers, in the heat of dispute, shook his 
fist in the ministers face, saying, " Nothing saves you, sir, but your 
black coat," MacGregor instantly exclaimed, " Well, it shan't save 
yoM, sir," and pulling off his coat, was about to suit the action to 
the word, when the enemy beat a sudden retreat, and troubled the 
Londonderrians no more. The Scotch-Irish of New Hampshire 
were among the first to catch the spirit of the Revolution. They 
confronted British troops, and successfully too, he/ore the battle of 
Lexington. Four English soldiers had deserted from their.quarters 
in Boston, and taken refuge in Londonderry. A party of troops, 
dispatched for their arrest, discovered, secured, and conveyed them 



HORACE GREELEt's ALLUSION TO HIS ANCESTRY. 27 

part of the way to Boston. A band of young men assembled and 
pursued them ; and so overawed the British officer by the boldness 
of their demeanor, that he gave up his prisoners, who were escorted 
back to Londonderry in triumph. There were remarkably few 
tories in Londonderry. The town was united almost as one man 
on the side of Independence, and sent, it is believed, more men to 
the war, and contributed more money to the cause, than any other 
town of equal resources in N'ew England. Here are a few of the 
town-meeting "votes" of the first months of the war: " Voted^ to 
give our men that have gone to the Massachusetts government 
seven dollars a month, until it be known what Congress will do in 
that affair, and that the officers shall have as much pay as those in 
the Lsay government." — " Voted, that a committee of nine men be 
chosen to inquire into the conduct of those men that are thought 
not to be friends of their country." — " Voted, that the aforesaid com- 
mittee have no pay." — " Voted, that twenty more men be raised im- 
mediately, to be ready upon the first emergency, as minute men." — 
" Voted, that twenty more men be enlisted in Capt. Aiken's .com- 
pany, as minute men." — " Voted, that the remainder of the stock of 
powder shall be divided out to every one that hath not already re- 
ceived of the same, as far as it will go ; provided he produces a gun 
of his own, in good order, and is willing to go against the enemy, 
and promises not to waste any of the powder, only in self-defense ', 
and provided, also, that he show twenty good bullets to suit his 
gun, and six good flints." In 1777 the town gave a, bounty of 
thirty pounds for every man who enlisted for three years. All the 
records and traditions of the revolutionary period breathe unity and 
determination. Stark, the hero of Bennington, was a London- 
derrian. 

Such were the Scotch-Irish of ISTew Hampshire ; of such material 
were the maternal ancestors of Horace Greeley composed ; and 
from his maternal ancestors he derived much that distinguishes him 
from men in general. 

In the "New Yorker" for August 28, 1841, he alluded to hia 
Scotch-Irish origin in a characteristic way. Noticing Charlotte 
Elizabeth's " Siege of Derry," he wrote : 

" We do not like this work, and we choose to say so frankly. 
"What is the use of reviving and aggravating these old stories (alas 1 



28 THE SCOTCH-IRISH OF NEW HAMPSHIRE, 

how true !) of scenes in which Christians of diverse creeds have tor- 
tured and butchered each other for the glory of God ? We had an- 
cestors in that same Siege of Derry, — on the Protestant side, of 
course,— and our sympathies are all on that side ; but wo cannot 
forget that intolerance and persecution — especially in Ireland — are 
by no means exclusively Catholic errors and crimes. Who perse- 
cutes in Ireland noic ? On what principle of Christian toleration 
are the poor man's pig and potatoes wrested from him to pay tithes 
to a church he abhors? We do hope the time is soon coming when 
man will no more persecute his brother for a difference of faith ; 
but that time will never be hastened by the publication of such 
books as the Siege of Derry." 



CHAPTER II. 

ANCESTORS. — PAEENTAGE. — BIETH. 

Origin of the Family — Old Captain Ezekiel Greeley — Zaccheus Greeley — Zaccheus 
the Second — Roughness and Tenacity of the Greeley race — Maternal Ancestors of 
Horace Greeley— John Woodburn — Character of Horace Greeley's Great-grand- 
mother — His Grandmother — Romantic Incident— Horace Greeley is born " as black 
as a chimney" — Comes to his color — Succeeds to the name of Horace. 

The name of Greeley is an old and not uncommon one in IS'ew 
England. It is spelt Greeley, Greel}^, Greale, and Greele, but all 
who bear the name in this country trace their origin to the same 
source. 

The tradition is, that very early in the history of New England — 
probably as early as 1650 — three brothers, named Greeley, emigrat- 
ed from the neighborhood of ISTottingham, England. One of them 
is supposed to have settled finally in Maine, another in Rhode 
Island, the third in Massachusetts. All the Greeleys in New Eng- 
land have descended from these three brothers, and the branch of 
the family with which we have to do, from him who settled in Mas- 
sachusetts. Eespecting the condition and social rank of these broth- 
ers, their occupation and character, tradition is silent. But from 



ft M .'I iS_ 



7i 



Q 




CAPTAIN EZEKIEL GREELEY. 29 

the fact that no coat-of-arms has been preserved or ever heard of 
by any member of the family, and from the occupation of the ma- 
jority of their descendants, it is plausibly conjectured that they 
were farmers of moderate means and of the middle class. 

Tradition further hints that the name of the brother who found 
a home in Massachusetts was Benjamin, that he was a farmer, that 
he lived in Haveril, a township bordering on the south-eastern cor- 
ner of New Hampshire, that he prospered there, and died respected 
by all who knew him at a good old age. So far, tradition. We 
now draw from the memory of individuals still living. 

The son of Benjamin Greeley was Ezekiel, "old Captain Ezekiel," 
who lived and greatly flourished at Hudson, ISTew Hampshire, and is 
well remembered there, and in all the region round about. The cap- 
tain was not a military man. He was half lawyer, half farmer. He 
was a sharp, cunning, scheming, cool-headed, cold-hearted man, one 
who lived by his wits, who always got his cases, always succeeded in 
his plans, always prospered in his speculations, and grew rich without 
ever doing a day's work in his life. He is remembered by his grand- 
sons, who saw him in their childhood, as a black-eyed, black-haired, 
heavy-browed, stern-looking man, of complexion almost as dark as 
that of an Indian, and not unhke an Indian in temper. " A cross 
old dog," " a hard old knot," " as cunning as Lucifer," are among 
the complimentary expressions bestowed upon him by his descend- 
ants. " All he had," says one, " was at the service of the rich, but 
he was hard upon the poor," " His religion was nominally Bap- 
tist," says another, "but really to get money." "He got all he 
could, and saved all he got," chimes in a third. He died, at the age 
of sixty-five, with " all his teeth sound," and worth three hundi-ed 
acres of good land. He is spoken of with that sincere respect which, 
in New England, seems never to be denied to a very smart man, 
who succeeds by strictly legal means in acquiring property, however 
wanting in principle, however destitute of feeling, that man may 
be. Happily, the wife of old Captain Ezekiel was a gentler and 
better being than her husband. 

And, therefore, Zaccheus, the son of old Captain Ezekiel, was a 
gentler and better man than his father. Zaccheus inherited part of 
his father's land, and was a fai-mer all the days of his life. He was 
not, it appears, " too fond of work," though far more industrious 



so ANCESTOnS. — PARENTAGE. BIKTII. 

tliau Jiis father; a man who took life easily, of strict integrity, 
kind-hearted, gentle-mannered, not ill to do in the world, but not 
â– \viiat is called in New England '"fore-handed." He is remembered 
in the neighborhood Avhere he lived chiefly for his extraordinary 
knoAvledge of the Bible, He could quote texts more readily, cor- 
rectly, and profusely than any of his neighbors, laymen or clergy- 
men. He had -the reputation of knowing the whole Bible by heart. 
He was a Baptist ; and all who knew him unite in declaring that a 
worthier man never lived than Zaccheus Greeley. He had a large 
family, and lived to the age of ninety-five. 

His eldest son was named Zaccheus also, and he is the father of 
Horace Greeley. He is still living, and cultivates an ample domain 
in Erie County, Pennsylvania, acquired in part by his own arduous 
labors, in part by the labors of his second son, and in part by the 
liberality of his eldest son Horace. At this time, in the seventy- 
third year of his age, his form is as straight, bis step as decided, 
his constitution nearly as firm, and his look nearly as young, as 
though he were in the prime of life. 

All the Greeleys that I have seen or heard described, are persons 
of marked and peculiar characters. Many of them are '•'• charac* 
tersP The word which perhaps best describes the quality for 
which they are distinguished is tenacity. They are, as a race, tena- 
cious of life, tenacious of opinions and preferences, of tenacious 
memory, and tenacious of their purposes, One^member of the 
family died at the age of one hundred and twenty years; and a 
large proportion of the early generations lived more than three 
score years and ten. Few of the name have been rich, but most 
have been persons of substance and respectability, acquiring their 
property, generally, by the cultivation of the soil, and a soil, too, 
which does not yield its favors to the sluggard. It is the boast 
of those members of the family who have attended to its geneal- 
ogy, that no Greeley was ever a prisoner, a pauper, or, worse than 
either, a tory ! Two of Horace Greeley's great uncles perished at 
Bennington, and he was fully justified in his assertion, made in the 
heat of the Eoman controversy a few years ago, that he Avas " born 
of republican parentage, of an ancestry which participated vividly 
in the hopes and fears, the convictions and efforts of the American 
Eevolution." And he added : ""We cannot disavow nor prove rec- 



TOUGHNESS OF THE GREELEY RACE. 31 

reant to the principles ou whicli that Revolution was justified — on 
which only it can be justified. If •adherence to these principles 
makes us ' the unmitigated enemy of Pius IX.,' we regret the en- 
mity, but cannot abjure our principles." 

The maiden name of Horace Greeley's mother was "Woodburn, 
Mary "Woodburn, of Londonderry. 

The founder of the Woodburn family in this country was John 
Woodburn, who emigrated from Londonderry in Ireland, to London- 
derry in New Hampshire, about the year 1725, seven years after the 
settlement of the original sixteen families. He came over with his 
brother David, who was drowned a few years after, leaving a fam- 
ily. Neither of the brothers actually served in the siege of Lon- 
donderry ; they were too young for that; but they were both men 
of the true Londonderry stamp, men with a good stroke in their 
arms, a merry twinkle in their eyes, indomitable workers, and not 
more brave in fight than indefatigable in frolic ; fair-haired men 
like all their brethren, and gall-less. 

John Woodburn obtained the usual grant of one hundred and 
twenty acres of land, besides the " out-lot and home-lot " before 
alluded to, and he took root in Londonderry and flourished. Ho 
was twice married, and was the father of tAVO sons and nine daugh- 
ters, all of whom (as children did in those healthy times) lived to 
maturity, and all but one married. John Woodburu's second wife, 
from whom Horace Greeley is descended, Avas a remarkable wo- 
man. Mr. Greeley has borne this testimony to her worth and in- 
fluence, in a letter to a, friend which some years ago escaped into 
print : " I think I am indebted for my first impulse toward intel- 
lectual acquirement and exertion to my mother's grandmother, who 
came out from Ireland among the first settlers in Londonderry. 
She must have been well versed in Irish and Scotch traditions, 
pretty well informed and strong miuded ; and my mother being left 
motherless when quite young, her grandmother exerted great influ- 
ence over her mental development. I Vi^as a third child, the tAvo 
preceding having died young, and I presume my mother was the 
more attached to me on that ground, and the extreme feebleness of 
my constitution. My mind was early filled by her with the tradi- 
tions, ballads, and snatches of history she had learned from her 
grandmother, which, though conveying very distorted and incorrect 



32 ANCESTORS. PARENTAGE. BIRTH. 

ideas of history, yet served to awaken in mo a thirst for knowledge 
and a lively interest in learning and history." John Woodburn died 
in 1780. Mrs. Woodburn, the subject of the passage just quoted, 
survived her husband many years, lived to see her children's grand- 
children, and to acquire throughout the neighborhood the familiar 
title of " Granny "Woodburn." 

David "Woodburn, the grandfather of Horace Greeley, was the 
eldest son of John "SVoodburn, and the inheritor of his estate. He 
married Margaret Clark, a granddaughter of tbat Mrs. "Wilson, the 
touching story of whose deliverance from pirates was long a favor- 
ite tale at the firesides of the early settlers of New Hampshire. 
In 1720, a ship containing a company of Irish emigrants bound to 
New England was captured by pirates, and while the ship was in 
their possession, and the fate of tlie passengers still undecided, Mrs. 
"Wilson, one of the company, gave birth to her first child. The cir- 
cumstance so moved the pirate captain, who was himself a husband 
and a father, that he permitted the emigivantsto pursue their voyage 
unharmed. He bestowed upon Mrs. "Wilson some valuable pres- 
ents, among others a silk dress, pieces of which are still preserved 
among her descendants ; and he obtained from her a promise that 
she would call the infant by the name of his wife. The ship 
reached its destination in safety, and the day of its deliverance from 
the hands of the pirates was annually observed as a day of thanks- 
giving by the passengers for many years. Mrs. "Wilson, after the 
death of her first husband, became the wife of James Clark, whose 
son John was the father of Mrs. David Woodburn, whose daugh- 
ter Mary was the mother of Horace Greeley. 

The descendants of John Woodburn are exceedingly numerous, 
and contribute largely, says Mr. Parker, the historian of London- 
derry, to the hundred thousand who are supposed to have de- 
scended from the eai'ly settlers of the town. The grandson of John 
Woodburn, a very genial and jovial gentleman, still owns and tills 
the land originally granted to the family. At the old homestead, 
about the year 1807, Zaccheus Greeley and ilary Woodburn were 
married. 

Zaccheus Greeley inherited nothing from his father, and Mary 
Woo'dburn received no more than the usual household portion from 
hers. Zaccheus, as the sons of New England farmers usually do, 



HORACE GREELEY IS BORN BLACK. 33 

or (lid in those days, went out to "work as soon as lie was old 
enough to do a day's work. He saved his earnings, and in his 
twenty-fifth year was the owner of a farm in the town of Amherst, 
Hillsborough county, New Hampshire. 

There, on the third of February, 1811, Horace Greeley was born. 
He is the third of seven children, of whom the two elder died be- 
fore lie was born, and the four younger are still living. 

Tlie mode of his entrance upon the stage of the world was, to 
say the least of it, unusual. The effort was almost too much for 
liim, and, to use the language of one Avho was present, " he came 
into ihe world as black as a chimney." There were no signs of 
life. 'He uttered no cry ; he made no motion ; he did not breathe. 
But the little discolored stranger had articles to write, and was not 
permitted to escape his destiny. In this alarming crisis of his exist- 
ence, a kind-hearted and experienced aunt came to his rescue, and 
by arts, which to kind-hearted and experienced aunts are well 
known, but of which the present chronicler remains in ignorance, 
the boy was brought to life. He soon began to breathe ; then he 
began to blush ; and by the time he had attained the age of twenty 
minutes, lay on his mother's arm, a red and smiling infant. 

In due time, the boy received the name of Horace. There had 
been another little Horace Greeley before him, but he had died in 
infancy, and his parents wished to preserve in their second son a 
living memento of their first. The name Avas not introduced into 
the family from any partiality on the part of his parents for the 
Roman poet, but because his father had a relative so named, and 
because the mother had read the name in a book and liked the 
sound of it. The sound of it, however, did not often regale the 
maternal ear ; for, in New England, Avliere the name of the conrtly 
satirist is frequently given, its household diminutive is "Hod;" and 
by that elegant monosyllable the boy was commonly called among 
his juvenile friends. 

2* 



CHAPTER III. 

EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

The Village of Amherst— Character of the adjacent country— The Greeley fariU" 
The Tribune in the room in which its Editor was born — Horace learns to read — 
Book up-side down — Goes to school in Londonderry — A district school forty 
years ago — Horace as a young orator — Has a mania for spelling hard words — Gel2 
great glory at the spelling school — Recollections of his surviving schoolfellows — 
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 school- 
fellows — His early fondness for the village newspaper — Lies in ambush for tho 
post-rider who brought it — Scours the countrj'for books — Project of sending him 
to an academy — The old sea-captain — Horace as a farmer's boy — Let us do our 
stiut first — His way of fishing. 

Amheest is the county town of Hillsborongh, one of the three 
counties of New Hampshire Avhich are bounded on the South hy 
the State of Massachusetts. It is forty-two miles north-west of 
Boston. 

The village of Amherst is a pleasant place. Seen from the summit 
of a distant hill, it is a white dot in the middle of a level plain, en- 
circled by cultivated and gently-sloping hills. On a nearer ap- 
proach the traveler perceives that it is a cluster of white houses, 
looking as if they had alighted among the trees and might take to 
wing again. On entering it he finds himself in a very pretty vil- 
lage, built round an ample green and shaded by lofty trees. It con- 
tains three churches, a printing-office, a court-house, a jail, a 
taver^i, half a dozen stores, an exceedingly minute watchmaker's 
shop, and a hundred private houses. There is not a human being 
to be seen, nor a sound to be heard, except the twittering of birds 
overhead, and the distant whistle of a locomotive, which in those 
remote regions seems to make the silence audible. The utter 
silence and the deserted aspect of the older villages in New Eng- 
land are remarkable. In the morning and evening there is 
some appearance of life in Amherst ; but in the hours of the day 
when the men are at work, the women busy with their household 
affairs, and the children at school, the visitor may sit at the win- 



a 

H 

DQ 
O 

w 
o 
o 

« 
O 

a 

DO 




tJ.,*"H 



AMHERST. 35 

da , .'f tlie village tavern for an hour at a time and not see a living 
ci'eNi.nre. Occasionally a pedler, with sleigh bells round his horse, 
goes Jingling by. Occasionally a farmer's wagon drives up to one of 
the stores. Occasionally a stage, rocking in its leather suspenders, 
stops at the post-office for a moment, and then rocks away again. 
Occasionally a doctor passes in a very antiquated gig. Occasion- 
allj' a cock crows, as though he were tired of the dead silence. A 
New York village, a quarter the size and wealth of Amherst, makes 
twice its noise and bustle. Forty years ago, however, Avhen Horace 
Greeley used to come to the stores there, it was a place of some- 
what more importance and more business than it is now, for Man- 
chester and ISTashua have absorbed many of the little streams of 
traffic which used to flow towards the county town. It is a curious 
evidence of the stationary character of the place, that the village 
paper, which had fifteen hundred subscribers when Horace Greeley 
was three years old, and learned to read from it, has fifteen hundred 
subscribers, and no more, at this moment. It bears the same name 
it did then, is published by the same person, and adheres to the 
same party. 

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 advant-age, 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, 
marsh, and long winters ; but a hundred years of tillage have sub- 
dued these obstacles in part, and the peojjle generally enjoy a safe 
and moderate prosperity. Yet severe is their toil. To see them 
ploughing along the sides of those steep rocky liills, the plough 
creaking, the oxen groaning, the little boy-driver leaping from sod 
to sod, as an Alpine boy is supposed to leap from crag to crag, the 
ploughman wrenching the plough round the rocks, boy and man 
every minute or two uniting in a prolonged and agonizing yell for 
the panting beasts to stop, when the plough is caught by a hidden 
rock too large for it to overturn, and the solemn slowness with 
which the procession winds, and creaks, and groans along, gives to 
the languid citizen, who chances to pass by, a new idea of hard 
work, and a new sense of the happiness of his lot. 



S4 EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

Tlie farm owned by Zacclieiis Greeley when his son Horace was 
born, Avas four or five miles from the village of Amherst. It con- 
sisted of eighty acres of land — heavy land to till — rocky, moist, 
and uneven, worth then eight hundred dollars, now two thousand. 
The house, a small, unpainted, but substantial and well-built farm- 
liouse, stood, and still stands, uj^on a letlge or platform, half way 
up a high, steep, and rocky hill, commanding an extensive and al- 
most panoramic view of the surrounding country. In whatever 
direction the boy may have looked, he saw rock. 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 a »er\ous looking country ; one that would be congenial 
to grim covenanters and exiled round-heads. The prevailing colors 
are dark, even in the brightest month of the y^ar. 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 â–  
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 full 
meaning of the word country^ as distinguished from the word toion., 
he need do no more than ascend the hill on whicli Horace Greeley 
saw 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 days, a 
bed stood, we recognize, among the heap of newspapers, the well- 
known heading of the Weekly Telbuxe. 

Such was the character of the region in which Horace Greeley 
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 inequality in possess- 
ions, did not exist, even as an idea. Wealth and Avant were alike 
unknown. It was a community of i)lain people, who had derived 
all their book-knowledge from the district school, and depended 



IJORACE LEARNS TO READ. St 

upon the village newspaper for their knoAvledgc of the world with- 
out. There were no heretics among them. All the people either 
cordially embraced, or undoubtingly assented, to the faith called 
Orthodox, and all of them attended, more or less regularly, the 
churches 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 
Greeley clicl^ as a very young child, manifest signs of extraordinary 
intelligence. He took to learning with the promptitude and in- 
stinctive, irrepressible love, with which a duck is said to take to the 
"VNiftter. His first instructor was his mother ; and never was there 
a mother better calculated to awaken the mind of a child, and 
keep it awake, than Mrs. Greeley. 

Tall, muscular, well-formed, with the strength of a man without 
his coarseness, active in her habits, not only capable of hard work, 
but delighting in it, with a perpetual overflow of animal spirits, an 
exhaustless store of songs, ballads and stories, and a boundless, ex- 
uberant good will towards alHiving things, Mrs. Greeley was the 
life of the house, the favorite of the neighborhood, the natural 
friend and ally of children ; whatever she did she did " with a will." 
She was a great reader, and remembered all she read. "She 
worked," says one of my informants, " in doors and out of door, 
could out-rake any man in the town, and could load the hay-wag- 
ons 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 an4 
, sing all day long, and tell stories all the evening." 

To these stories the boy listened greedily, as he sat on the floor 
at her feet, while she spun and talked with equal energy. They 
''served," says Mr. Greeley, in a passage already quoted, " to awaken 
in me a thirst for knowledge, and a lively interest in learning and 



'% EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

history." Think of it, you "vvord-mongering, gerund-grinding 
teachers wlio delight in signs und symbols, and figures and "factV' 
and feed little children's souls on the dry, innutricious husks of 
knowledge ; and think of it, you play-abhorring, fiction-forbidding 
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 the 
beauty of his immortal part, has written the history of his childhood, 
without recording the fact, that the celestial fire was first kindled 
in his soul by means similar to those which awakened an " interest 
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. Ifo 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 he placed, — right-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 school 
there, and distinguished himself greatly. He had no right to at- 
tend the Londonderry school, and the people of the rural districts 



A DISTRICT SCHOOL FORTY YEARS AGO. 39 

are apt to be strenuous upon the point of not admitting to their 
school pupils from other toAvns ; but Horace was an engaging 
child; "every one liked the little, white-headed fellow," says a 
surviving member of the school committee, "and bo we favored 
him." 

A district school— and what was a district school forty years 
ago ? Horace Greeley never attended any but a district school, and 
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 nousE, in its simplest form. But for its r»of, 
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 some- 
times) 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 thirty pupils, but it fre- 
quently contained fifty ; and then the little school-room was a com- 
pact mass of young humanity : the teacher had to dispense with 
his table, and was lucky if he could find room for his chair. The 
side of the apartment opposite the door was 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 
a low, slanting shelf, which served for a desk to those who wrote, 
and against the sharp edge of which the elder pupils leaned when 
they were 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 nnich too 
warm as those wlio sat near the door were too cold. In a school 
of forty pupils, there would bo a dozen who were grown up, mar- 



40 EARLY CIJILDHOaO. 

riageable young men and -women, Not unfrequently married men, 
and occasionally married women, attended school in the winter. 
xVinong the younger pupils, there were usually a dozen who could 
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, who 
knew a little more than his elder pupils, and only a little; or he 
was a student avIio was Avorking his way through college. His 
wages 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 Avas the abil- 
ity "to do" any sum in the arithmetic. To know arithmetic was to 
be a learned man. Generally, the teacher was very young, some- 
times not more than sixteen years old ; but, if he possessed the due 
expertness at figures, if he could read the Bible without stumbling 
over the long words, and without mispronouncing more than two 
thirds of the proper names, if he could write well enough to set a 
decent copy, if he could mend a pen, if he had vigor enough of 
â– character to assert his authority, and strength 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 with a ruler. The boys, and the 
girls too, came tumbling in, rosy and glowing, from th'eir snow- 
balling and sledding. The first thing done in school was reading. 
The " first class," consisting of that third of the pupils who could 
read best, stood on the floor and read round once, each individual 
reading about half a page of the English Eeader, Then the second 
class. Then the third. Last of all, the youngest children said their 
letters. By that time, a third of the morning was over ; and then 
the reading began again ; for public opinion demanded of the teach- 
er that he should hear every pupil read four times a day, twice in 
the morning and twice in the afternoon. Those who were not in 
the class reading, were employed, or were supposed to be employed, 
in ciphering or writing. "When they wanted to write, they went to 
the teacher Avith their writing-book and pen, and he set a copy, — 
" Procrastination is the thief of time," " Contentment is a virtue," 
or some other wise saw, — and mended the pen. When they were 
puzzled with a " sum," they went to tlie teacher to have it elucidat- 



THE SPELLING SCHOOL. 41 

e<l. They seum to have written and ciphei'ed as much or as little 
as they chose, at what time they chose, and in what manner. In 
some schools there were classes in arithmetic and regular instruc- 
tion in writing, and one class in grammar ; but such schools, forty 
years ago, wei'e rare. The exercises of the morning were concluded 
with a general spell^ the teacher giving out the words from a spell- 
ing-book, and the pupils spelling them at the top of theii* voices. 
At noon the school was dismissed ; at one it was summoned again, 
to go through, for the next three hours, precisely the same routine 
as that of the morning. In this rude way the last generation of 
children learned to read, write, and cipher. But they learned 
something more in those rude school-houses. They learned obedi- 
ence. They were tamed and disciplined. The means employed 
Avere extremely unscientific, but the thing was done! The 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 were no 
more exempt than the young men old enough to marry them, 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 she 
was too old to suflFer the consequences. In some districts, a teacher 
was valued in proportion to his severity ; and if he were 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 pupils 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 auy 
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 Londonderry school house, near 
the fire, we may imagine the little white-headed fellow, whom 
everybody liked, to be seated during the winter of 1814-15, He 



4tU. EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

Avas eager-to go to school. Wlien the snow lay on the ground in 
drifts too deep for hiiii to wade through, one of his aunts, Avho still 
lives to tell the story, would take him up on her shoulders and 
carry him to the door. He was the possessor that winter, of three 
books, the " Columbian Orator," Morse's Geography, and a spell- 
ing book. From the Columbian Orator, he learned many pieces by 
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 so often in public and private, as to become, as it were, 
identified with it, as a man who knows one song, suggests that 
song 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 
compi^ a series of Reading 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 the 



RECOLLECTIONS OF HIS SURVIVING SCHOOLFELLOWS. 43 

standing ainnseijient of the family to try and puzzle the boy with 
â– words, and no one remembers succeeding. SiDelliug, moreover, 
â– was one of the great points of the district schools in those days, 
and he â– who could out-spell, or, as the phrase â– was, " spell do^wn " 
the â– whole school, ranked second only to him â– who surpassed the 
rest in arithmetic. Those were the palmy days of the spelling- 
school. The pupils assembled once a week, voluntarily, at the 
school-house, 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 -n'hen 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, what his school-fellows there remember of hirn. 

One of them can just recall him as a very small boy with a head as 
white as snow, who "was almost always up head in his class, and took 
it so mucTi to heart when he did happen to lose his place, that he 
would cry bitterly ; so that some boys â– when they had gained the right 
to get above him, declined the honor, because it hurt Horace's 
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 play, and seldc^B^ok 
part in the sports of the other boys. One muster day, this morm- 
ant remembers, the clergyman of Londonderry, who had heard 
glowing accounts of Horace's feats at school, took him on his lap in 
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 
in some respects exceedingly brave, and in others exceedingly tim 



44 EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

orous. He waf? never afraid of tlie dark, could not be frightened 
by gliost-stories, never was abashed in speaking or reciting, was 
not to be overawed by supposed superiority of knowledge or rank, 
would talk up to the teacher and question his decision with perfect 
freedom, though never in a spirit of impertinence. Yet he could 
not stand up to a boy and fight. "When attacked, he Avould nei- 
ther fight nor run away, but " stand still and take it." His ear 
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 Avould either run away as fast as his 
slender legs carry him, or else would throw 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 woods to get beyond the sound of the cannons 
and pistols. It was at Londonderry, and about his fourth year, that 
Horace began the habit of reading or book-devouring, which he 
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, would lie iinder 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 dinner 
time and sun-set, as long as he could see. It was his delight in 
books that made him, when little more than an infant, determine 
to be a printer, as printers, he supposed, were they who made books.- 
" O'^day," says this gentleman, " Horace and I went to a black- 
smi^Hkhop, and Horace watched the process of horse-shoeing with 
mucMQtei'est. The blacksmith observing how intently he looked 
on, said, ' You 'd better come with me and learn the trade.' ' ISTo,' 
said Horace in his prompt decided way, ' I 'm going to be a printer.' 
He was then six years old, and very 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 
story with great glee when Horace was a printer, and one of some 
note. 
Another gentleman, who went to school with Horace at London- 



RECOLLECTIONS OF HIS SURVIVING SCHOOLFELLOWS. 45 

deny, writes :— " I think I attended school with Horace Greeley 
two summers and two winters, but have no recollection of seeing 
him except at the school-house. He was an exceedingly mild, quiet 
and inoffensive child, entirely devoted to his books at school. It 
used 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. His devotion to his 
books, together with the fact of his great advancement beyond 
others of his age in .the few studies then pursued in the district 
school, rendered him notorious in that part of the town. He was 
regarded as a prodigy, and his name was a household world. He 
was looked upon as standing alone, and entirely unapproachable by 
any of the little mortals around him. Eeading, parsing, and spelling, 
are the only branches of learning which I remember him in, or in 
connection with which his name was at that time mentioned, 
though he might have given some attention to Avriting and arith- 
metic, which completed the circle of studies in the district school at 
that time ; but in the three branches first named he excelled all, even 
in the winter school, 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 scholar in school, seemed 
to be prominent objects with him, and to furnish strong motives to 
effort. I can recall but one instance of his missing a word in the 
spelling class. The classes went on to the floor to spell, and he al- 
most invariably stood at the head of the 'first class,' embracing 
the most advanced scholars. He stood there at the time referred 
to, and by missing a word, lost his place, which so grieved hin^iat 
he wept like a punished child. While I knew him he did ^^H^' 
gage with other children in the usual recreations and l^ffse- 
ments of the school grounds ; as soon as the school was dismissed at 
noon, he would start for home, a distance of half a mile, with all 
his books u^der his arm, including the New Testament, Webster's 
Spelling Book, English Eeader, &c., and would not return till the 
last moment of intermission ; at least such was his practice in the 
summer time. With regard to his aptness in spelling, it used to be 
said that the minister of the town. Rev. Mr. McGregor, once at- 
tempted to find a word or name in the Bible which he could nol 



46 EARLV CHILDHOOD. 

spell correctly, but failed to do ao. 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 much pains to assure myself whether this Horace Greeley 
was the 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 mik 
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 Revela- 
tions ; had read the Pilgrim's Progress with intense interest, and 
dipped into every other book he could lay his hands 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 sought. The 
school-committee expressly voted, that no pupils from other towns 
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 
e'^^xcite envy or enmity. He bore his honors meekly. Every 
o^^Hed the boy, and took pride in his superiority to themselves. 
A^^S schoolmates- 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 — • 
then a stout schoolboy, now a sturdy farmer— "many a morning I 



ms EARLY FONDNKSS FOR THE VILLAGE NEWSPAPER. 47 

have carried Horace on my back through the drifts to school, and 
put my own mittens over his, to keep his httle hands from freez- 
ing." He adds, " I Hved at the next house, and I and my brothers 
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 Paith," and per- 
haps, all told, 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 iceeMy neiospaper 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. The 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, he 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 Farmer's Calinet. 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 hoij^j^n 
the rocky hill of Amherst with the general life of mankind. The 
boy, before he could read himself, and before he could understand 
the meaning of war and bloodshed, doubtless heard his father read 
in it of the triumphs and disasters of the Second War Avith Great 
Britain, and of the rejoicings at the conclusion of peace. He him- 
self may have read of Decatur's gallantry in the war with Algiers, 
* of Wellington's victory at Waterloo, of Napoleon's fretting away 
- ' his life on the rock of St. Helena, of Monroe's inauguration, of the 
dismantling of the fleets on the great lakes, of the progiess of the 



48 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, which were negotiated after the 
concliTsion 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 Farmefs 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 Trihune exchanges. 

Horace scoured the country for books. Books were books in that 
remote and secluded region ; and when he had exhausted the col- 
lections of the neighbors, he cai'ried the search into the neighbor- 
ing towns. I am assured that there was not one readable book 
within seven miles of his Cither's house, Avhich Horace did not bor- 
row and read during his residence in Amherst. He was never 
without a book. As soon, says one of his sisters, as he was dressed 
in the morning, he flew to his book. He read every minute of the 
day which he could snatch from his studies at school, 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 
th^cider-barrel, reading to the wood-pile, reading to the garden, 
r^pig to the neighbors ; and pocketing liis book only long enough 
to perform his errand, he would fall to reading again the instant his 
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 stum biers; and there he would lie and 
read all tln-ongh the long winter evenings, sUent, motionless, dead 



SCOURS THE COUNTRY FOR BOOKS. 49 

to the world around him, alive only to the world to which he was 
transported by his book. Visitors would come in, chat a while, 
and go away, without knowing he was present, and without his 
being aware of their coming and going. It was a nightly struggle 
to get him to bed. His father required his services early in the 
morning, and was therefore desirous that he should go to bed early 
in the evening. He feared, also, for the eye-sight of the boy, read- 
ing so many hours with his head in the fire and by the flaring, flicker- 
ing light of a pine knot. And so, by nine o'clock, his father would 
tegin 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 chagi'in 
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 very rural district — few books accessible — few literary persons re- 
siding near — the school contributiag scarcely anything to liis mental 
nourishment — no other boj^ in the neighborhood 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 — such an intense, absorbing, and persistent 
love of knowledge as that exhibited by Horace Greeley, must be 
accounted very extraordinary. 

That his neighbors so accounted it, they ai"e still eager to ajttot. 
Continually the wonder grew, that one small head should carry all 
he knew. 

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

3 



50 EARLY CHILDHOOD. 

penses of his maintenance and tuition. But liis mother coukl not 
let him go, his father needed his assistance "at Iiome, and the boy 
himself is said not to have favored the schenie. A wise, a fortunate 
choice, I cannot help believing. That academy may have been an 
institntion where boys received more good than liarm — where real 
Jmowledge 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 were active — where stomachs 
were peptic. It may have been. But if it was, it was a different 
academy from r>:iany whose praises are in all the newspapers. It 
was better not to run the risk. If that young man's offev 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 
hoy generally receives at an 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 Avorld, possessed the yam-spinning faculty, and be- 
sides, being himself a walking traveller'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?' or, 'How do you spell Encyclopedia, or Kamt- 
schatka, or Nebuchadnezzar 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 the fuU- 
n4|[^of his replies. The captain was of service to Horace in vari- 
ous ways, and he is remembered by the family with gi-atitude. To 
Horace's bi-othcr 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 hoy er- 
roneous information to test his knowledge. Horace, he used to 
say, could never be shaken on a point which he had once clearly 
understood, but would stand to his opinion, and defend it against 
anybody and everybody — teacher, pastor, or public opinion. 



HIS WAT OF FISHING. 51 

In New England, the sons of farmers begin to make themselvea 
useful almost as soon as they can walk. They feed the chickens, 
they drive the cows, they bring in wood and water, and soon come 
to perform all those offices wliich come under the denomiation 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 pi ay. 
The reader may think that Horace's devotion to literature would 
naturally enougli render the farm work distasteful to him ; and if 
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 
devoted 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 fatlier had 
set 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 alioays in school though," says his 
brother, " and as Ave 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 feport 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 boys fished for sport; Horace fished for j?s/^. He 
fished industriously, 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. Shoot- 
ing was the favorite amusement of the boys of the neighborhood, 
but Horace could rarely be persuaded to take part in it. "When 
he did accompany a shooting-party, he would never carry or dis- 
charge a gun, and when the game Avas found he would lie down 
and stop his ears till the murder had been done. 



CHAPTER lY. 

HIS FATHER EUINED — REMOVAL TO VERMONT. 

New 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 Jag— 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 — Cheerfulness in misfortune. 

But wliile 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 by him, had come 
over his father's prospects. It began to gather when the boy was 
little more than six years old. In his seventh year it broke, and 
drove the familj-, for a time, from house and land. In his tenth, it 
had 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 Xew Hampshire 
by the standard of Mark Lane, a farmer of Xew Hampshire Avas 
not, in his best estate, very far from ruin. Some articles which 
forty years ago, were quite destitute of pecuniary value, now afford 
an ample profit. Fire-wood, for example, when Horace Greeley 
was a boy, could seldom be sold at any price. It was usually 
burned up on the land on which it grew, 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 four dol- 
lars. Forty years ago, farmers had little surpliis produce, and that 
little had to be carried far, and it brought little money home. In 
short, before the manufacturing system was introduced into New 
Hampshire, affording employment to her daughters iif the factory, 
to her sons on the land, New Hampshire was a povert^'-strickcn 
State. 



CAUSES OF niS FATHER'S FAILURE. 53 

It is one of the -wonders of party infatuation, that the two States 
which if they have not gained most, have certainly most to gain 
from the " American system," should have always been, and should 
still be its most rooted opponents. But man the partisan, like man 
the sectarian, is, always was, and will ever be, a poor creature. 

The Avay to thrive in New Hampshire was to work very hard, 
keep the store-bill small, stick to the farm, and be no man's security. 
Of these four things, Horace's father did only one — he worked hard. 
He was a good workman, methodical, skillful, and persevering. 
But he speculated in lumber, and lost money by it. He was ' bound,' ' 
as they say in the country, for 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 employed 
liberally, and in various ways swelled" his account with the store- 
keeper. 

Those, too, were, the jolly, bad days, when everybody drank 
strong drinks, and no one supposed that the affairs of life could pos- 
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 rum that 
clinched bargains ; rum that kept out the cold of winter, and rum 
that moderated the summer's heat, ilen drank it, women drank 
it, children drank it. There were families in Avhich the first duty 
of every morning was to serve around to all its members, even to 
the youngest child, a certain portion of alcoholic liquor. Rum had 
to bethought with money, and money was hard to get in New 
Hampshire. Zaccheus Greeley was not the man to stint his work- 
men. At his house and on his farm the jug was never empty. In 
bis cellar the cider never was dry. And so, by losses which he 
tould not help, by practices which had not yet been discovered to 
be unnecessary, his aff"airs became disordered, and he began to 
descend the easy steep that leads to the abyss of bankruptcy. He 



54 HIS TATHEIl RUINED. — REMOVAL TO VERMONT. 

arrived — lingered a few years ou the edge — wasjjusbed in — and 
scrunibled 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 over the hills. 
Horace, then only seven years old, on coming down stairs in the 
morning, saw several men about the house ; neighbors, some of 
them ; others were strangers ; 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 the 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 the 
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 tJiat^ anyhow." But 
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 lionest 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 Avas not satisfac- 
tory. The hop-market was depressed. His own farm in Amherst 



beginxixCt the world anew. 55 

was either ill managed or else the seasons were unfavorable. He 
gave up the hop-farm, poorer than ever. He removed back to his 
old home in Amherst. A little legal manoeuvring 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 effort to recover himself, be- 
came a bankrupt, was sold out of house, land, and household goods 
by the sheriff, and fled from the State to avoid arrest, leaving liis 
family behind. Horace was nearly 'ten years old. Some of the 
debts then left unpaid, he discharged in part thirty years after. 

Mr. Greeley 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 tAventy miles northwest of 
his former residence. There he found a large landed proprietor, 
who had^uiade 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. This 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 untriramed ; the attempt at a park-gate 
has 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 his family to a new home. 

It was in the depth of winter when they made the journey. The 
teamster that drove them still lives to tell how ' old Zac Greeley 
came to him, and wanted h6 should take his sleigh and horses and 
go over with him to New Hampshire State, and bring his family 
back ]' 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 Zac 
gave him enough to secure him, and away they drove to New 
Harapshire State. One sleigh was sufficient to convey all the little 
property the law had left the family, and the load could not have 



56 HIS FATHER RUIN'ED. REMOVAL TO VERMONT. 

been a heavy one, for the distance was accomplished in a little more 
than two days. The sleighing, however, was good, and the Con- 
necticut river was crossed on the ice. The teamster remembers 
well tlie intelligent white-headed hoy 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. " He asked me," says he, "a great deal 
about Lake Champlain, and how far it was from Plattsburgh to this, 

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

than I could tell Mm.'" 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, but 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 one or two 
other small relics of their former state ; and they possessed nothing 
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 the follow- 
ing manjier : — A five-quart milk-pan filled with Lean porridge — an 
hereditary dish among the Scotch-Ii'ish — was placed upon the floor, 
the 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. Tlie parents sat at a table, and enjoyed the dignity of a sep- 
arate dish. This Avas a homely way of dining; but, adds my kind 
informant, "they seemed so happy over their meal, that many a 
time, as I looked upon the group, I wished our mother would let m 
eat in that way — it seemed $o much b'ettcr than sitting at a table 
and using knives, and forks, and plates." There was no repining in 
the fomily over their altered circumstances, nor any attempt to con- 
ceal the scantiness of their furniture. To what the world calls "ap- 
pearances" they seemed constitutionally insensible. 



CHAPTER V. 

AT WESTHAYEN', A^ERMONT. 

Description of tlie country— Clearing up Land— All the family assist a la Swiss-Fan- 
ily-Robinson— Primitive costume of Horace — His early indifference to dress— flis 
manner and attitude in school — A Peacemaker amons the boys — Gets into a scrape, 
and out of it— Assisfe 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 — Reads at the Jlansion House — Taken for an 
Idiot— And for a possible President— Reads Mrs. Hemans with rapture— A AVolf 
Story — A Pedestrian Journey — Horace and the horseman — Yoking the Oxen — 
Scene with an old Soaker — Rum in Westhaven — Horace's First Pledge-~Narrow 
escape from drowning — His religious doubts— Becomes a Universalist — Discovers 
the 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. 
That 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. Eoaming 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. Three miles from liis father's house was the 
great Lake Champlain. 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, i ad hung over it, a cloud veiling a Mystery. 
And he could see tl.e long line of green knoll-like hills that 
formed its opposite 'shore. And he could go down on Sundays to 

Lhe fihore itself, and stand in the inmiediate presence of the lake. 

o* 
o 



i8 



AT WESTIIAVEN, VERMONT. 



Nor is it a sliglit thing for a boy to see a great natural object wliich 
he has been learning about in his school books ; nor is it an nnin- 
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 hia 
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 surrounding scenery is sublime, and what is 
not sublime is beautiful. Moreover, Lake Charfiplain is a stage on 
the route of northern and southern travel, and living npon its shores 
brought the boy nearer to that world in which he was destined to 
move, and which he had to know before he could Avork in it to 
advantage. At Westhaven, Horace passed the next five years of 
his life. He 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. 
He 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 espenditin-es 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 was 
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 
drove them none too well, say the neighbors, and was gradually 
supplanted in the office of driver by his younger brother. Both 
the boys could chop the smaller tree''. Their mother and sisters 



PRIMITIVE COSTUME OF HORACE. 59 

gathered together the light wood iuto lieaps. And when the 
great logs had to be rolled upon one another, there was scope for 
tlie combined skill and strength of the whole party. Many happy 
and merry days the family spent together in this employment. 
The mother's spirit never flagged. Her voice rose in song and 
laughter from the tangled brush-wood in which she was often bur- 
ied; and no word, discordant or unkind, was ever known to 
break the perfect harmony, to interrupt the perfect good humor 
that prevailed in the family. At night, they went home to the 
most primitive of suppers, and partook of it in the picturesque and 
labor-saving style in which the dinner before alluded to was con- 
sumed. The neighbors still point out a tract of fifty acres which 
was cleared in this sportive and Swiss-Family-Kobinson-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 from the rocks above the spring, which used 
to furnish the brooms, nightly renewed, which swept the little 
house in which the 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 dilTerent garments made in the roughest and simplest man- 
ner by the mother. 

More than three garments at the same time, Horace seldom wore in 

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 shoes and a jacket. During tlie five years of his 

life at Westhaven, probably -'lis clothes did not cost three dollars a 

year ; and, I believe, that durnu the whole period of his childhood, 

up to the time when he came ot iie;e, not fifty dollars in all were 

expended upon his dress. He never itiauifested, on any occasion, in 

any company, nor at any part of his eaily life, the slightest interest 

in his attire, nor the least care for its efiect upon others. That 

amiable trait in human nature which inclmes us to decoration, 

which make us desirous to present an agreeable figure to others, 

and to abhor peculiarity in our appearance, is a trait which Horace 

never gave the smallest evidence of possessing. 



60 AT WESTIIAVEX, VERMONT. 

He went to school tl:roe -winters in Westliaven, but not to any- 
great advantage. He Lad already gone the round of district school 
studies, and did little more after his tenth year than Avallc over the 
course, keeping lengths ahead of all competitors, -with little effort. 
" He Avas al-ways," says one of his "Westhaven schoolmates, " at 
the top of the school. He seldom had a teacher that could teach 
him anytliiug. Once, and once only, he missed a -word. His fair 
face Avas crimsoned in an instant. He -was terribly cut about it, and 
I fancied he -was not himself for a -week after. I see him novr, as 
he sat in class, -with his slender body, his large head, his open, 
ample forehead, his pleasant smile, and his coarse, clean, homespun 
clothes. VAs, attitude -was always the same. He sat Avith 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 
him. He appeared to attend more from curiosity to hear what sort of 
work xoe made of the lesson than from any interest he took in the 
subject fur his own sake. Once, I parsed a word egregiously 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 I' 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 liim to fight, 
or to be angry, or to have an enemy. He was a peacemaker among 
us. He played Avith 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, Avho had, I think, been a participator in the offence. The in- 
strument of flagellation was placed in Horace's hand, and he dreAv 
off, as tliough he was going to deal a terrific blow, but it came 
down so gently on the boy's jacket that every one saAV that Horace 
AA'as shamming. Tlie teacher interfered, and told him to strike 
harder; and a little harder he did strike, but a more harmless flog- 
ging Avas never administered. He seemed not to have the poAA-er, 
any more than the Avill, to inflict pain." 

If Horac -^t little good himself from his last Avinters at school, 



DISCONCERTS HIS TEACHERS. ,61 

he "was of great assistance to his schoolfellows in explaining to them 
the difficulties of their lessons. Few evenings passed in which 
some strapping fellow did not come to the house with his grammar 
or his slate, and sit demurely by the side of Horace, while the dis- 
tracting sum was explained, or the dark place in the parsing les- 
. son illuminated. The boy delighted to render such assistanc'e. 
However deeply he might be absorbed in his own studies, as soon 
as he saw a puzzled countenance peering in at the door, he kncAv 
his man, knew what was wanted ; and would jump up from his 
recumbent posture in the' chimney-corner, and procee<l, with a 
patience that is still gratefully remembered, Avith 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 flusliesonthe puzzled mind. 
He wonders he had not thought of that : he wishes Heaven had 
given Mm such a ' head-piece.' 

To some of his teachers at "Westhaven, Horace was a cause of 
great annoyance. He knew too much, lie asked awkward 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 Avas thirteen years old,, had the 
honesty and good sense- to go to his fathei*, and say to him, point 
blank, that Horace knew more than he did, and it was of no use for 
him 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 done at the old home in Amherst. 
There was a new reason why 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 
which says much for the kindly spirit of its inmates. TJiey came 



6S AT WESTHAVEX, VERMONT. 

to hear his mother's songs and stories, to play with liis brother and 
sisters, to get assistance from himself; and they liked to be there, 
where there was no stiffness, nor ceremony, nor discord. Horace 
cared nothing for their noise and romping, but he could never be 
induced to join in an active game. AVhen he was not assisting 
some be\\ildered 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 him out 
of his fiery den by the leg ; and he would crawl back, without the 
least show of anger, but Avithout 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. 
It 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 — Avho could win two games in three of Horace, Greeley. 
His cronies at "Westhaven seem to have been those who were fond 
of draughts. In his passion for books, he was 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 lite, that the Yankee ele- 
ment was strong within him. In the first place, he was always do- 
ing something; and, in the second, he always had something to sell. 
He saved nuts, and exchanged them at the store for the articles he 
wished 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- 
haven, was bee-hunting, which is not only an agreeable and excit- 
ing pastime, but occasionally rewards the hunter with a prodigious 
mess 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 Avlien a pedler came 



TAKEN FOR AN IDIOT. 63 

along -with books in his -wagon, Horace was pretty sure to be his 
customer. Yet he was only half a Yankee. He could earn monej', 
but the bargaining faculty he had not. 

â– What did he read ? Whatever he could get. But his preference 
was for history, poetry, and — newspapers. He had read, as I have 
before mentioned, the whole Bible before he was six years old. He 
read the Arabian Nights with intense pleasure in his eighth year ; 
Eobinson Crusoe in his ninth ; Shakspeare in his eleventh ; in his 
twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth years, he read a good many of 
the common, superficial histories — Robertson's, Goldsmith'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. He was fortunate, too, in living near the ' mansion-house' 
before mentioned, the proprietor of which, it appears, took some in- 
terest in Horace, and, though he would not lend him books, allow- 
ed him to come to the house and read there as often and as long as 
he chose. 

A story is told by one who lived at the ' mansion-house' when 
Horace used to read there. Horace entered the library one day, 
when the master of the house happened to be present, in conversa- 
tion Avith 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 mansioa defended his 
conduct by extolling the intelligence of his protege, and Avound up 
with the usual climax, that he 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 — many 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 he 
might, one day, if he persevered in well-doing, be the President of 
the United States. That was before the era of wire-pulling and 
rotation in office. He must be either a very young or a very old 
man who can noic mention the presidential office in connection 
witli the future of any boy not extraordinarily vicious. Wire-pull- 
ing, happily, has robbed tlie schoolmasters of one of their bad argu- 
ments for a virtuous life. Bftt we are wandering from the library. 



G4 



AT AVESTHAVEX, VERMONT. 



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

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

a crazy speech." Horace does not appear to have made a fixvorable 
impression at the 'mansion-house.' 

But he read the books in it, for all that. Perhaps it was there, 
that he fell in with a copy of Mrs. Hemans' poems, which, where- 
ever he found them, were the first poems that awakened his enthu- 
siasm, tlie first writings that made him aware of ^the better impulses 
of his nature. "I remember," he wrote in the Eose of Sharon for 
1841, "as of yesterday, the gradual unfolding of the exceeding 
truthfulness and beauty, the profound heart-knowledge (to coin a 
Germanism) which characterizes Mrs. Hemans' poems, upon my 
own immature, unfolding mind.— 'Cassabianca,' 'Things that 
change,' 'TheA^oice of Spring,' 'The Traveller at the Source of 
the Nile,' ' The Wreck,' and many other poems of kindred nature 
are enshrined in countless liearts — 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 taste 
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 Avhom 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 f;xcts 
which gave rise to those impressions have mostly escaped their 
memories. They speak of him as an absorbed 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 by 



A WOLF STORY. C) 

his intimates to be, in the language of one of them — "a darned 
smart fellow, in spite of his looks " — who was utterly blameless in 
all Ills waj's, and Avorks, and 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 liim to be 
one. The few occurrences of the boy's life, which, in addition to 
these general reminiscences of his character, have chanced to escape 
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 by 
the side of the road. There had been rumors of wolves iu 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 than a New York boy does 
for a cat, and could have faced a pack of Avolves 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 wise than in their fears. That which 
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 fulfilment 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. 
But the boy was not satisfied; and, one morning, he trudged off to 



0*5 AT V.ESTHAVEN, VKRMONT 



Whitehall, a towu about nine miles distant, where a newspaper was 
published, to make inquiries. He went to tlie printing office, saw 
the 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, stayed scv- 
ral weeks, and came back with a shilling or two more money than 
he 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 IsTew 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 'â– 'â– Sir" 
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 
not tell him, and, without looking 7vp, said, " ask /S/?'," meaning, ask 
father. The stranger, puzzled at this reply, repeated his question, 
and Horace again said, "ask /S»'." "I am asking," shouted the 
man. " Well, ask ;§/;■," said Horace, once more. '■'■ Aint I asldog, 
you — fool," screamed the man. " But I want you to ask /SV?-," 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." 

In a similar absent fit it must have been, that the boy once at- 



YOKING THE OXEN. 67 

tempted, in vain, to yoke the oxen that he had yoked a hundred 
times before without difficulty. To see a small boy yoking a pair 
of oxen is, O City Eeader, to behold an amazing exhibition of tlie 
power of Mind over Matter. The huge beasts need not come under 
the yoke — twenty men could not compel them— but they do come 
under it, at the beck of a boy that can just stagger under the yoke 
himself, and wliom one of the oxen, with one horn and a shake of 
the head, could toss over a hay-stack. The boy, with the yoke on 
his shoulders, and on§ 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 bow, 
holds up the end of the yoke, and commands the '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 yoke, you will discover that the oif ox has an opinion of his 
own. He won't come. Tliis was the mistake which Horace, one 
morning in an absent fit, committed, and the off ox could not be 
brought to devir.te from established usage. After much coaxing, 
and, possibly, some vituperation, Horace was about to give it up, 
when his brotlier 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 wUl 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 
throwing 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 ceteri. Horace, who never threw stones at 
pigs, was overheard to say, " Now, you, ought n't to throw stones 
at that hog ; he don't Tcnow anything." 

The person who heard these words uttered by the boy, is one of 
those libulant individuals who, in the rural districts, are called 'old 
Boakers,' and his face, tobacco-stained, and rubicund with the 



68 AT AA^ESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

drinks of forty j'ears, gleamed Avith the light of other days, as he 
hiccoughed out the little tale. It may serve to show how the boy 
is 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 he 
miglit 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 my 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 
ranch 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-LaAV, the old man's harangue was highly interesting. 

That part of the town of Westhaven was, 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 wlien 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-totaller, 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 
stimulants of all kinds are necessarily pernicious. Horace was 
therefore a tee-totaller before tee-totalism came ui>, and he took a 
sort of ple/Ige before the pledge was invented. It happened cme 



NARROW ESCAPE FROM DROWNINa. 69 

day that a neighbor stopped to take dinner -with the family, and, 
as a matter .of course, the bottle of rum was brought out for his 
entertainment. Horace, it appears, either tasted 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 
said, " Father, what will you give me if I do not drink a drop of 
liquor till I am twenty-one ?" His father, who took the question as 
a joke, answered, "I'll give you a dollar." "It's a bargain," said 
Horace. And it icas a bargain, at least on the side of Horace, Avho 
kept his pledge inviolate, though I have no reason to believe he 
ever received his dollar. Many were the attempts made by his 
friends, then and afterwards, to induce him to break Lis 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 'n idened 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 bead 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 
the 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 
the drowning pair managed, by climbing over Horace, and sousing 



70 AT WESTIIAVEN', VERMONT. 

him comi^letely uuder the log, to get out. Horace emerged, half- 
drowned, and again hung for life at the rough hark. But the future 
hero of ten thousand paragraphs was not to be drowned in a mill- 
pond; so the log floated into shallower water, when, by making a 
last, spasmodic effort, he succeeded in springing np high enongh 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, came 
as near taking a summary departure to that bourn where no 
Teibuxe 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 first experience of ' log-rolling.' It 
â– 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 parents assented to the Ortho- 
dox creed of l^ew 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, was 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 any 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 was, in short, of a nature to leave his mind, not un- 
biased in favor of orthodoxy — that had been almost impossible in 
Xew England thirty years ago — but as nearly in equilibrium on the 
subject, in a state as favorable to original inquiry, as the place and 
circumstances of his early life rendered possibl*!. 

There was not in Westhaven one individual who wa?: knowc to 



THE STORY OF DEMETRIUS. 71 

be a dissenter from tLe established faitli ; nor was there any dis- 
senting sect or society in the vicinity ; nor was any periodical of a 
heterodox character taken in the neighborhood; 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 lie began to dowbt; 
and at fourteen — to use the pathetic language of one Avho knew 
him then — " he was little better than a Ilniversalist." 

The theology of the seminary and the theology of the farm-house 
are two different things. They are 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 tlie manifold subtleties connected therewith. 
It grapples Avith a simpler question : — ' Am I in danger of leing 
damned ?' ' Is it Hkelj 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- 
cfetes. The part of the story which bore upon tlie subject of his 
thoughts may be out-lined thus : — 

Demetrius, (B. C. 301,) surnamed Poliorctstes, lesieger of cities, 
was the son of Antigonus, one of those generals Avhom the death 
of Alexander the Great left masters of the world. Demetrius Avas 
one of the ' fast ' princes of antiquity, a handsome, brave, ingen- 



72 AT WESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

uous man, but vain, rash and dissolute. lie and Lis father ruled 
over Asia Minor and Syria. Greece was under the sway of Cassander 
and Ptolemy, who had ]-e-established in Athens aristocratic institu- 
tions, 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 
to Athens with a fleet of two hundred and fifty ships, expelled the 
garrison and obtained possession of the city. Antigorus had been 
advised to retain possession of Athens, the key of Greece; but he 
replied: — "The best and securest of all keys is the friendship of 
the people, 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. He 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 liad first alighted from his 
chariot. They created a priest in his honor, and decreed that he 
should be received in all his future visits as a god.- They changed 
the name of the month MunycMon to Demetrion^ called the last 
day of every month Demetrius^ and the feasts of Bacchus Demetria. 
"The gods," says the good Plutarch, "soon showed how much of- 
fended they were at these things." Demetrius enjoyed these ex- 
travagant honors for a time, added an Athenian wife to the number 
he already possessed, and sailed away to prosecute the war. A sec- 
ond time the Athenians were threatened with the yoke of Cassander ; 
again Demetrius, 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 more 
piquant pleasures. At length Demetrius, after a career of victory, 
fell into misfortune. His domains Avere invaded, his father was 
filain, the kingdom was dismembered, and Demetrius, with a rem- 
nant of his arm}', was obliged to fly. Reaching Ephesus in want of 



THE STORY OF DEMETRIUS. 73 

money, he spared the temple filled with treasure ; and fearing hig 
soldiers would plunder it, left the place and embarked for Greece. 
His dependence was upon the Athenians, with whom he had left his 
wife, his ships, and his money. Confidently relying upon their af- 
fection and gratitude, he pursued his voyage with all possible ex- 
pedition as to a secure asj'lum. But tlie fickle Athenians failed hhn 
in his day of need ! At the Oyclades, Athenian ambassadors met 
hira, and mocked him with the entreaty ih&i 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 had 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. He 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 galleys, 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 
was soon 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 mai'ched in with his troops. He com- 
manded all the citizens to assemble in the theatre. They obeyed. 
Utterly at his mercy ^ they expected no mercy, felt that they deserved 
no mercy. The theatre 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 
Vgnal was heard. He addressed them in a soft and persuasive 
;one, complained of their conduct in gentle terms, forgave their in- 
gratitude, took them again into favor, gave the city a hundred thou- 
sand measures of wheat, and-promised the re-establishraent of their 
ancient institutions. The people, relieved from their terror, aston- 
ished at their good fortune, and filled with enthusiasm at such 

4 



74 AT WESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

generous forbearance, overwhelmed Demetrius with acclama- 
tions. 

Horace was fascinated by the story. He thought the conduct of 
Demetrius not only magnanimous and humane, but just and politic. 
Sparing the people, misguided by their leaders, seemed to him the 
best way to make them ashamed of their ingratitude, and the best 
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 ? K 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 
feehngs 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 honoi's 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 Avife, his ships and his 
treasure to their care. Yet in the day of his calamity, when for 
the first time it was in their ^jowe?" 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; t]ien\iv,'as 
that they determined to refuse him even an admittance Avithin their 
gates, and sent an embassy to meet him with mockery and sub- 
terfuge. 

Of the offences committed by man against man, there is one 
Avhich man can seldom lift his soul up to the height of forgiving. 
It is to be shghted in the day of his humiliation by those Avho 
showed him honor in the time of his prosperity. Yet man can 
forgive 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 shoAV his 
teeth at every passing dog ; the mastiff Avalks majestic and serene 
through a pack of snarling curs. 

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



BECOMES A UNIVERSALIST. 75 

more; and the result was, that lie became as our pious 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 TJniversalist 
church till he was twenty years old. By what means he managed 
to 'reconcile' his new belief with the explicit and unmistakable 
declarations of what he continued to regard as Holy Writ, or how 
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 
â–  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 impoi'tant 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 things 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 Avhich 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, for 
a less severe one to which he attains by the operations of his own 
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 liiin open to conviction, for he cannot forget that there 
Avas a time when he held opinions which he now clearly sees to be 



76 AT WESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

erroneous. It dissolves the spell of Authority ; it makes him dis- 
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 — that 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 
before 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 difficulties 
of life, and particularly his early struggle, is apt to be a hard one; 
for, generally^ the Eich, 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 that 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 nettleTDanger, alone^ we pluck the flower Safety. And he who 
loves Truth first — Advantage second — will certainly find Truth at 
length, and care little at what loss of Advantage. So, let every 
man be fully persuaded in his own mind — with whiclo^flafe and 
sjllutary text we may take leave of matters theological, and resume 
our story. 

Tlie political events which- occurred during Horace 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 



DISCOVERS THE HUMBUG OF " DEMOCRACY. 77 

to American Industry was recommended strongly, and advocated 
by arguments so simple that a child could understand them ; so 
cogent that no man could refute thei.n — arguments, in fact, pre- 
cisely similar to those which the Tribune has since made familiar 
to the country. In the message of 1822, the president repeated his 
recommendation, and again in that of 1824. Those were the years 
of the recognition of the South American Eepublics, of the Greek 
enthusiasm, of Lafayette's triumphal progress through the Union ; 
of the 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 efforts in debate, and secured a place in the 
affections of Horace Greeley, which he retained to his 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 them, 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 oflferod, but one of them was 
withdrawn, leaving four, all of them members in regular standing of the so- 
called Republican or Democratic party. But a caucus of one-fourth of the 
members of Congress had selected .one of the four (William H. Crawford) as 
the Pvcpublican 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 
and 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 Maj^in Van Buren of this State, and here it was gravely proclaimed and 
insisted tnat 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 tp bestir themselves and de- 
mand that the New York Electors should be chosen by a direct vote of the peo- 
ple, and not by a forestalled Legislature. This demand was vehemently re- 



78 AT \VESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

sisted by Martin Van Baren and those who followed his lead, inclnding the 
leading ' Democratic' politicians and editors of 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. We 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 that Democracy 
was on one side and the Democratic party on the other 7 Will ' Democrat' 
attempt to gainsay it now ? 

Mr. Adams was chosen President — as thorough a Democrat, in the true 
sense of the word, as ever lived — a plain, una.ssuming, 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 General Jackson over 
him by a large majority. 

The character of this ma» 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 way through 



SHAM AND REAL DEMOCRACY. 79 

the Indian country with his drove of negroes in defiance of the express order 
of the Agent Dinsmore ; his imprisonment of Judge Hall at New Orleans, 
long after the British had left that quarter, and when martial law ought long 
eince to have been set aside ; his irruption into Florida and capture of Spanish 
posts and ofi5cers 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 
sense 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. 

Th.at General Jackson in power justified all our previous expectations of him, 
need hardly be said. That he did more to destroy the Kepubliean character 
of our government and render it a centralized despotism, than any other 
man could do, we certainly believe. But our correspondent and we would 
probably disagree 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 Groorgia, Alabama, &c. It was 
theirs by the best possible title — theirs by our solemn and reiterated Treaty 
stipulations. We 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 agressors. We 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 Washington, JeflFerson, &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 
piinted in their own tongue, and were fast improving in the knowledge and 
application of the arts of civilijed 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 livery 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 country, as we had by treaty solemnly engaged 
to do. This answered the purpose. Georgia blustered, but dared not go fur- 



80 AT WESTHAVEN, VERMONT. 

ther. She went en masse for Jackson, of course. When he camo 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 him 
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 Georgia 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 aflSrmed. But 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, the 
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, when Silas Wright was nominated for Gov- 
ernor of the State of New York, the Tribune broke forth : " The 
'notorioi;s 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 which made the ' Seventeen' sounenviably 
notorious ! The Editor of the Tribune is of that proportion, be it 
small or large. Tliough 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 ' Democracy,' ' 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 Avlnch taught 
many beside us tlie nature of this swindle, and fired them with un- 



IMPATIENT TO BEGIN HIS APPRENTICESHIP. 81 

conquerable zeal and resolution to defeat the fraud by exposing it 
to the apprehension of a duped and betrayed people." 

These extracts will assist the reader to recall the political excite- 
ments of the time. And he may well esteem it extraordinary for a 
boy of thirteen — an age when a boy is, generally, most a boy — to 
â– 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 his father was loth to let him go, for two 
reasons : the boy was useful at home, and the cautious father feareG) 
he would not do well away from home ; he was so gentle, so ab 
sent, so awkward, so little calculated to make his way with strac 
gers. One day, the boy saw in the "Northern Spectator," a weeklf 
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 and 
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 to. 

4* 



CHAPTER YI. 

APPREXTICESHIP. 

fhe Village of East Poultney— Horace applies for the Place— Scene in the Garden — 
He makes an Impression — A difficulty arises and is overcome — He enters the 
office — Rite of Initiation — Horace the Victor — His employers recollections of hinr 
— The Pack of Cards — Horace begins to paragraph — Joins the Debating Society — 
His manner of Debating — Horace and the Dandy — His noble conduct to hia 
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 Pocltxet is not, decidedly not, a place which a traveler — 
if, by any extraordinary chance, a traveler should ever visit it — 
Avould naturally suspect of a newspaper. But, in one of the most 
densely-populated parts of the city of ISTew 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 in 
the metropolis we can account for. But that a newspaper should 
ever have 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, " SiLVEP.SMiTn," "Op.gax Factop.y," "Piaxo Fortes," "Prixt- 
iXG Office," or " Patent 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 



THE VILLAGE OF EAST POULTNEY. 83 

would as soon expect to see there aa Italian opera house 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 
â– places, where the two ranges of hills approach and nod to ono 
another, and where the river pours through a rocky channel — a 
torrent on a very small scale — the little village nestles, a cluster of 
Jiouses 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. No 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 diflBculty will be 
to findj 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 a 
little more wide awake, and there were a few more of tliem. 

It 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 
of the presence of a boy. But the boys of country villages go into 



84 APPRENTICESHIP. 

whosesoever garden their wandering fancy impels them, and suppos- 
ing this boy to be one of his own neighbors, Mr. Bliss continued 
his work and quickly forgot that he was not alone. In a few min- 
utes, he heard a voice close behind him, a strange voice, high- 
pitched and whining. 

It said, " Are you the man that carries on tbe 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, di-essed in the plain, farmer's cloth of the time, his gar- 
ments cut with an utter disregard of elegance and fit. His trou- 
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 efiect of the 
figure and its costume was so outre, they presented such a combina- 
tion of the I'ustic 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 2" 

" I 've 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 for years. 

Mr. Bliss was both astonished and puzzled— astonished that such 
a fellow as the boy looked to b6, should have ever thought of learn- 
ing to print, and puzzled how to convey to him an idea of the ab- 
surdity of the notion. So, with an expresssion in his countenance, 
such as that of a tender-hearted dry-goods mercliant might be sup- 



HORACE APPLIES FOR THE PLACE. . 85 

posed to assume if a hod-carrier should apply for a p.ace in the lace 
department, he said, " Well, my boy— but, you know, it takes con- 
siderable learning to be a printer. Have you been to scliool much ?" 

" No," said the boy, " I hav 'nt had much chance at school. I 've 
read some." 

" What have you read ?" asked Mr. Bliss. 

" Well, I 've read some history, and some travels, and a little of 
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 Avas — 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. He 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 applicant, it required but little 
time to discover that he possessed a mind of no common order, and 
an acquired intelligence far beyond his years. He had had but little 
opportunity at the common school, but he said ' he had read some,' 
and what he had read he Avell understood 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 
once commanded my regard." 



86 APPRENTICESHIP. 

After half an hour'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, whicb 
can he much better imagined than described, and which is most 
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, liowever, 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, wrate a few words upon it hastily with a pencil, and 
told the boy to take it to Mi\ Bliss. That piece of paper was his 
fate. The words were : ' Guess we \l letter try him.'' Away went 
Horace to the garden, and presented his paper. Mr. Bliss, Avhose 
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 
him, 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 change 



A DIFFICULTY ARISES AND IS OVERCOME. 87 

of outer-clothing, at the same time, till he was of age. Father and 
son walked, side by side, to Poultney, the boy carrying his po'ssess- 
ions upon a stick over his shoulder. 

At Poultney, an unexpected difficulty arose, which for a time made 
Horace tremble in his high-low shoes. The terms proposed by Mr. 
Bliss were, that the boy should be. bound for five years, and receive 
his board and twenty <?ollars a year. Now, Mr. Greeley had ideas 
of his own on the subject of apprenticeship, and he objected to this 
proposal, and to every particular of it. In the first place, he had 
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 board was a compen- 
sation ridiculously disproportionate to the services which Horace 
would be required to render ; and finally, on each and all of these 
points, he clung to his opinion with the tenacity of a Greeley. Mr. 
Bliss appealed to the established custom of the country ; five years 
was the usual period ; the compensation offered was the 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 diiference ;" 
or, "Don't you think you'd better do it, father?" At one mo- 
ment the boy Avas reduced to despair. Mr. Bliss had given it as 
his ulthnahim 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 father 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 effected. What the terms were, that 
were finally agreed to, I cannot positively state, for the three me- 
moirs 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 
liome, and the son went straight to the printing office and took his 
first lesson in the art of setting type. 
A few months after, it may be as well to mention here, Mr; 



88 APPRENTICESHIP. 

Greeley removed to Erie county, Pennsylvania, and bought some 
"wild land there, from Avhich he gradually created a farm, leaving 
Horace alone in Vermont. Grass now grows where the little house 
stood in Westhaven, in which the famil}' lived longest, and the barn 
in which they stored their hay and kept their cattle, leans forward 
like a kneeling elephant, and lets in the daylight through ten 
thousand apertures. But the neighbors point out the tree that' 
stood before their front door, and the tree that shaded the kitchen 
window, and the tree that stood behind the house, and the tree 
whose apples Horace liked, and the bed of mint witli 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 befoi'e 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 in- 
struction, 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 7nust 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 that day.; and when he left the 
office at night could set type better and faster than many an ap- 
prentice who had had a month's pi'actice. The next day, he worked 
with the same silence and intensity. The 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 his 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 him. 89 

the oldest apprentices took one of the large black balls with -which 
printers used to dab the ink upon the tj^pe, and remarking that in 
his opinion Horace's hair was of too light a hue for so black an 
art as that 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 neither 
spoke nor moved. He went on with his work as though, nothing 
had happened, and soon after went to the tavern where he 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 timej" 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 young debutant. Debates en- 
sued ; historical, political, and religious questions were discussed ; and often 
while all hands were engaged at the font of types ; and here the purpose for 
which our young aspirant "had read some" was made 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 said that money was the root of all evil, when he was 
corrected by the ' devil,' who said he believed it read in the Bible that the love 
of money was the root of all evil. 

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

" 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 
enough to drink — which was adopted nem. con. / 

" Though modest and retiring, he was often led into political discussions 
with ohr ablest politicians, and few would leave the field without feelin"' in- 



90 APPRENTICESHIP. 

structed by the soundness of his views and the unerring correctness of hia 
statements of political events. 

" Having 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 his daily 
meals, and though I often sat near, or stood in the way, so much absorbed did 
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 he never 
turned his head or gave me a look, was because he had no idea I was 
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 whenet^er 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 Avas always 
ready for a bee-hunt," says one who knew him well in Poultne)', 
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- 
ing-school 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 
never could be prevailed, upon to enter it. 

Until he came to live at Poultney, Horace had never tried his hand 



JOINS A DEBATING SOCIETY. 91 

nt original composition. The injurious practice of writing 'compo- 
sitions' was not among the exercises of any of the schools which he 
liad attended. At Poultney, 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 composed 
them. They were 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 Mv. 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 the Lyceum had become so 
famous in the neighborhood, that people fi-equently 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?' ' Has a person a right to take 
life in self-defence ?' '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 V ' Was Napoleon Bonaparte a great man V ' Is it a person's 
duty to take the temperance pledge ?' 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 
members. " He was a i lal giant at the Debating Society," saya 



92 APPRENTICESHIP. 

one of his early admirers. " Whenever he was appointed to speak 
or to read an essay, he never wanted to be excused ; he was always 
ready. He was exceedingly interested in the questions which he 
discussed, and stuck to his opinion against all opposition — not dis- 
courteously, hut still lie 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 the minutest details of important 
events ; dates, names, places, ligures, statistics — nothing had escaped 
him. He was never treated as a hoy 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 sheriff— more, I think. To the 
graces of oratory he made no pretence, 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, that those 
whom 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 before me the Horace Greeley of the 
old Poultney ' Fornm,' 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 ^ms— except so far as to put on his jacket. In the 
summer, he 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 np above his elbows, his 
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 clothing was really insufficient. So, at 
least, thought a kind-hearted lady who used to see hun pass her 
window on his way to dinner. "He never," she says, "had an 
overcoat whife he lived here; and I used to pity him 6<? much in 
cold weather. I remember him as a slender, pale little fellow, 
younger looking than he really was, in a brown jacket much too 



HIS FIRST GLIMPSE AT SARATOGA. 93 

short for him. I used to tliink the winds would blow him away 
sometimes, as he crept along the fence lost in thought, with his 
head down, and his hands in his pockets. He was often laughed 
at for his homely dress, by the boys. Once, when a very interest- 
ing question was to be debated at the school-house, a yoUng man 
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 
sides, and an unusually large audience was expected to be present. 
' No,' said Horace, ' I guess I 'd better wear my old clothes than 
run in 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 inchned to 
censure' the young debater for his apparent parsimony ; or worse, for 
an insolent disregard of the feelings of others; or, loorst^ for a pride 
that aped humility. The reader, if that be the present inclination 
of his mind, Avill 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 Alleghanies, 
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 Poultney, Horace visited his 
parents in Pennsylvania, six hundred miles distant, walking a great 
part of the way, and accomplishing the rest on a slow canal boat. 
On one of these tedious journeys he first saw Saratoga, a circum- 
stance to which he alluded seven years after, in a fanciful epistle, 
written from that famous watering-place, and published in the 
"New Yorker": 

" Saratoga ! bright city of '.he present ! thou cver-during one-and-twenty 



94 APPRENTICESHIP. 

of existence ! a wanderer by thy stately palaces and gushing fountains ealutes 
thee ! Years, yet not many, have elapsed since, a weary reamer from a dis- 
tant land, he first sought thy health-giving waters. November's sky 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 disappointn»ent and disgust, and sadly addressed him again to 
his pedestrian journey. Is it ever thus with thy castles. Imagination ? thy 
pictures, Fancy 7 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 rhj'me, 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 prose, 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 Ponltney, he 
boarded for some time at the tavern, which still affords entertain- 
ment for man and beast — i. e. pedler 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. Their 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. He was very fond of coffee, 
but cared little for tea. Every one drank in those days, 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," 
said 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. Whatever 
might be going on about the village or in the bar-room, I always 
knew he would do right." He stood on no ceremony at the table ; 
\\Qfell to without waiting to be asked or helped, devoured every- 
thing right and left, stopped as suddenly as he had begun, and 



THE doctor's story. 95 

vanished instantly. One day, as Horace was stretcliing his 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 particula7' regard for you." He blushed, as only a 
boy with a very white face can blush, and, thenceforth, was less 
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. He came, 
at length, to be regarded as a sort of Town Encyclopedia, and if 
any one wanted to know anything, he went, as a matter of course, 
to Horace Greeley ; and, if a dispute arose between two individuals, 
respecting a point of histoiy, or politics, or science, they referred it 
to Horace Greeley, and whomsoever he declared to be right, was 
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 tlie tavern, except Avhen 
he went to visit his parents. He seldom went to church, 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, gastronomic 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 theij, a farmer's son, and we lived a few miles 
from East Poultney. 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 in exchange. Now this was the 
first time, you must know, that I had ever been entrusted Avith so 
important an errand. I had been to the village with my father 
often enough, but now I was to go alone, and I felt as proud and 



96 APPRENTICESHIP. 

independent as a midshipnifm the first time he goes ashore in com- 
mand of a boat. Big with the fate of twenty bushels of potatoes, 
off I drove — reached the village — sold oui my load — drove round 
to the tavern — put up my horses, and went in to dinner. Tliis going 
to the tavern on my own account, all by myself, and paying ray own 
bill, was, I thought, the crowning glory of the whole adventure. 
There were a good many people at dinner, the 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 eyes 
fell upon an object so singular that I could do little else than stare 
at it all the while it remained in the rooTn. It was a tall, pale, 
white-haired, gaicTcy boy, seated at the further end of the table. 
He was in his shirt-sleeves, and he was eating Avith a rapidity and 
awkwardness that I never saw equaled before nor since. It seem- 
ed as if he was eating for a wager, and had 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 ostler.' I thought 
it strange, too, that no one seemed to notice him, and I supposed 
he owed his continuance at the 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- 
sation 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, I 
thought, to my boundless astonishment, referred the matter to the 
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 and fork, and gave the history of the measure, explained 
the state of parties at the 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, and as settling the question be- 



KECOLLECTIONS of one of his FELLf)W APPRENTICES. 97 

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

One of his fellow-apprentices favors me with some interesting 
reminiscences. He says, '' I was a fellow-apprentice with Horace 
Greeley at Poultney for nearly two years. We boarded together 
during that period at four ditterent places, and we were constantly 
together." The following passage from a letter from this early 
friend (5f our hero will be welcome to the reader, notwithstanding 
its repetitions of a few facts already known to him : — 

Little did the inhabitants of East Poultnej', where Horace Greeley went to 
reside in April, 1826, as an apprentice to the printing business, dream of the 
potent influence he was a few years later destined to exert, not 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 his 
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 be an un- 
usually intelligent and honest lad, he came to be better ap^jreciated. The office 
in which he was employed was that of the " Northern Spectator,'" a weekly 
paper then published by Messrs. Bliss & Dewey, and edited by E. G. 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 has 
marked with pride and pleasure every successive step of the ' Westhaven boy,' 
from that day to this. 

* 5 



98 APPRENTipESnrP. 

In consequence of the change of proprietors, editors and other things per- 
taining to the management of the Spectator office, Horace had, during the 
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 lifo in that pleasant old village. 
There 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 wh^ 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 
o^vn efforts. He had, however, a natural aptitude for arithmetical calcula- 
tions, and could easily surjxiss, in bis boyhood, most persons of his age in the 
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 candidate^ for governor and Congress, not only in a 
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 districts, (whig, dem- 
ocratic and what not,) at all manner of elections. These things he rapidly and 
p.asily mastered, and treasured in his capacious memory, till we venture to say 
he haa few if any equals at this time, in this particular department, in this 
or any other country. I never knew but one man who approached him in this 
particular, and that was Edwin Williams, compiler of the X. Y. State Reg- 
ister. 

Another letter from the same friend contains information still 
more valuable. " Judging," he writes, " from -what I do certainly 
know of him, I can 6ay 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 in 
the way of useful knowledge — and such a quick and clear percep- 



• POLITICS OF THE TIME. 99 

tion of the queer and humorous, whether in print or in actual life 
His love of the poets — Byron, Shakspeare, etc., discovered itself in 
boj'hood — 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 
the Ocean, and some things in the [4th] 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 burst of indignation ; 
" Knowing Horace Greeley as I do and have done for thirty years, 
knowing his integrity, 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 inexpressible. 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 Adams 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 ot 
universal suffrage, that the party which comes before the country 
with the most taking popular Cey is the party which is likeliest to 
win. During the existence of this administration, the Opposition 
had 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 



162566 



100 APPKENTICESHIP. » 

of the people. Jackson "was the hero of New Orleans and the con- 
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? — 
that 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 had ever been before ? — that the resources of 
the country were made accessible by a liberal system of internal 
improvement ? — that, nevertheless, there were surplus millions ia 
the 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 Kevolutionary school re- 
tired. The era of wire-pulling began. That deadly element was 
introduced into our political system which rendered it so exquisitely 
vicious, that 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-Tiolder synonymous with the word sneaTc. It has thronged the 
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 the 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 wortli, and enabled bloated 
and beastly demagogues, without a ray of talent, without a senti- 
ment of magnanimity, illiterate, 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 be- 
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. All 



THE ANTI-MASON EXCITEMENT. 101 

agree that he contributed his full share to the general babble -which 
the election of a President provokes. During the whole adminis- 
tration of Adams, the revision of the tariff with a view to the bet- 
ter protection of American manufactures was among the most 
prominent 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. 
Eegiments that bear upon their banners the. most honorable distinc- 
tions, whose colors are tattered with the bullets of a hundi-ed 
fights, 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 
which sometimes come over the mind of a nation, and make it for 
a tH!ie incapable of reason and regardless of justice. Such seems 
to have been the nature of the anti-Masonic mania which raged in 
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 book 
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 lecame of Mor- 
gan ? and it rent the nation, for a time, into two imbittered and 
angry factions. " Morgan !" said the Free Masons, " that perjured 
traitor, died and was buried in the natural and ordinary fashion." 
" Morgan !" said the anti-Masons, " that martyred patriot, was drag- 
ged from his home by Masonic ruflaans, 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 thrown by 
the agitation of this subject. Books were written. Papers were 
established. Eshibitions were got up, in which the Masonic cere- 
monies were caricatured or imitated. Families were divided. Fa- 
thers 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 



102 APPRENTICESHIP. 

nnti-Masonic candidates in every election in the Northern States 
fuv at least two 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 Ordei-s, 
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 back 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 of its 
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 must hasten on. Horace had soon learned his trade. He 
became the best hand in the office, and rendered important assist- 
ance in editing the paper. Some numbers were almost entirely his 



INVENTORY OF HIS POSSKSSIONS. 103 

work. But there was ill-luck about tlie little establishment. Several 
times, as we have seen, it changed propi-ietors, but none of them 
could make it pro'sper ; and, at length, in the month of June, 1830, 
the second month of the apprentice's fifth year, the 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 whithersoever he could pay his passage, and to 
work for whomsoever would employ him. 

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 stuffed into a pocket, twenty dollars 
in cash, and— a sore leg. The article last named played too serious 
a part in the history of its proprietor, not to be 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 difficulty, 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 Avas 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 ho 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 with sufficient -rapidity. His 
constitution, originally weak. Labor and Temperance had rendered 
capable of great endurance. His mind, originnlly 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 his powers, and tried the correct- 
ness of his opinions. If his knowledge was incomplete, if there 
were Avide domains of knowledge, of Avhich he had little more than 
heard, yet what he did know he kncAv well ; he had learned it, not 
as a task, but because he wanted to Icnow it ; it partook of tho 
vitality of his own mind'; it was his oavu, and he could use it. 



104 APPRENTICESHIP, \ 

If tliere had been a People's College, to which the new eman- 
cipated apprentice could liave gone, and where, earning his subsist- 
ence by tiie exercise of his trade, he could have spent half of each 
day for the next tAvo years of his life in the systematic stndy of 
Language, History and Science, under the guidance of men able to 
guide him aright, under the influence of Avomen capable of attracting 
liis regard, and Avortliy of it — it had been well. But tliere was not 
"then, and there is not now, an institution that meets the want and 
the need of such as he. 

At any moment there are ten thousand young men and women 
in this country, strong, intelligent, and poor, wlio 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 j'oung 
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 TJniteesity-Towx — 
where all trades could be carried on, all arts practiced, all knowl- 
edge accessible, to winch those Avho 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 knoAvledge, could accomplish 
the wish of their hearts without losing their independence, without 
Ijecoming paupers, or prisoners, or debtors ? Surely sucli a University 
for the People is not an impossibility. To found such an institu- 
tion, or assenflblage of institutions — to find out the conditions upon 
which it could exist 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 Oxe Max— a man of boundless disinterestedness, 
of immense administrative and constructive talent, fertile in ex- 
pedients, courageous, persevering, physically strong, and morally 
gveat — a man born for his work, and devoted to it ' with a quiet, 
deep enthusiasm'. Give such a man the indispensable land, and 
tAventy-five years, and the People's College Avould be a dream no 
more, but a triumphant and imitaUe reality; and the founder 
thereof would have done a deed compared Avith Avliich, either 



A 



people's college, 105 



for its difficulty or for its results, such triumphs as those of Traf- 
algar and Waterloo would not be worthy of mention. 

There have been self-sustaining monasteries ! "Will there never 
be self-sustaining colleges? Is there anything like an inherent 
wipossibility in a thousand men and women, in the fresh strength 
of youth, capable of a just subordination, working together, each 
for all and all for each, with the assistance of steam, machinery, 
and a thousand fertile acres — earning a subsistence by a few hours' 
labor per day, and securing, at least, half their time for the acqui- 
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. He 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, Oarlyle, " in the world's history, when he that is least educated 
will chiefly have to say that he is least perverted ; and, with the 
multitude of false eye-glasses, convex, concave, green, or even 
yellow, has not lost the natural use of his eyes." " 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 way 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 peaotice." 

5* 



CHAPTER VII. 

HE "WANDEES, 

lorace leaves Poultney— His first Overcoat— Home to his Father's Log House— Ranges 
the country for work— The Sore Leg Cured— Gets Employment, but little Money— 
Astonishes the Draught-Players— Goes to Erie, Pa. — Interview with an Editor — 
Becomes a Journeyman in the Office— Description of Erie— The Lake — HisGeneros^ 
ity to his Father— His New Clothes— No more work at Erie -Starts for New 
York. 

"Well, Horace, and -where are 3'ou going now?" asked the kind 
^ndlady of the tavern, as Horace, a few days after the closing of 
the printing-office, 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 triumph, where, as Political Gazetteer, he had often given 
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 pedler. 

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 eat 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 speeet was to the following purport :— 



HORACE LEAVES POULTNEY. 107 

" He felt like doing sometliing for Horace before he went. Horace 
was an entirely unspeakable person. He had lived a long time in 
the house ; he had never given any trouble, and we feel for him 
as for our own son. Now, there is that brown over-coat o'f yours. 
It 's cold on the canal, all the summer, in the mornings and even- 
ings. Horace is poor and his father is poor. You are owing me 
a little, as much as the old coat is worth, and what I say is, let us 
give 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. The 
landlady gave him a pocket Bible. In a few minutes more, Horace 
rose, put his stick through his little red bundle, and both over his 
shoulder, took the overcoat upon his other arm, said ' Good-bye,' 
to his friends, promised to Avrite 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 
smile which plays upon her changeful countenance only when she 
is attu-ed in her best. Deceptive smile ! The forests upon those 
hills of hilly Rutland, brimming with foliage, concealed their granite 
ribs, their chasms, their steeps, their precipices, their morasses, 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 confront the world alone — the world of which he 
knows nothing except by hearsay, that cares nothing for him, and 
takes no note of his arrival. The present wayfarer was destined to 
be quite alone in his conflict with the Avorld, and he was destined ta 
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 sclieming and guileful servants ! But the Powers Celestial— 



108 HE WANDERS. 

they love their cboseu too â– tt'isely and too Avell to diminish by one 
care tlie burthen that makes them strong, to lessen by one pang the 
agony that inakes 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 Ann Harbor, fourteen miles from Poultney ; thence, 
partly on canal-boat and partly on foot, he went to Schenectady, 
and tiiere took a ' line-boat' in the Erie Canal. A week of tedium 
in the slow line-boat — a walk 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 the 
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 ' varmint,' extended a 
day's journey in every direction, and in some directions many days' 
j(«urne3'. The country was then so wild and ' new,' that a hunter would 
tell 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 IreatTie and see 
their eye-balls glare, as they prowled about his smoldering fire. 
Mr. Greeley, who had brought from Vermont a fondness for rearing 
sheep, 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 a 
beautiful land of wheat and woods. 

Horace stayed at home for several weeks, assisting his father, 



GETS EMPLOYMENT. 



100 



fishing occasionally, and otherwise amusing hinwelf ; while his good 
mother assiduously nursed the sore leg. It healed too slowly for its 
impatient proprietor, who had learned 'to labor,' not 'to wait;' 
and so, one morning, he walked over to Jamestown, a town twenty 
miles distant, where a newspaper was struggling to get published, 
and applied for work. AYork he obtained. It was very freely 
given ; but at the end of the week the workman received a promise 
to pay, but no payment. He waited and worked four days longer, 
and discovering by that time tliat there was really no money to bo 
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 large below the knee as a demijohn. Cut off from 
other employment, Horace devoted all his attention to the unfortu- 
nate member, but without result. He heard abont this time of a 
famous doctor who lived in that town of Pennsylvania which 
exults in the singular name of 'North-East,' distant twenty-fivo 
miles from his father's clearing. To him, as a last resort, though 
the family could ill afford the trifling expense, Horace went, and 
stayed 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 thought he had a bad leg of it, 
• without drinking liquor. The doctor's treatment was skillful, and 
finally successful. Among other remedies, he subjected the limb to 
the action of electricity, and from that day the cure began. The 
patient left North-East greatly relieved, and though 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 off, in Cata- 
raugns county, New York, At Lodi, he seems to have cherished 
a hope of being able to remain awhile and earn a little money. 
He wrote to his friends in Poultney describing the paper on which 
he worked, " as a Jackson paper, a forlorn aftair, else I would have 
sent you a few numbers." One of his letters written from Lodi to 
a friend in Yermont, contains a passage which may serve to show 
what was going on in the mind of the printer as he stood at the 
case setting up .Jacksonian paragraphs. " You are aware that an 



110 HE WANDERS. 

important election is close at hand in this State, and of course, a 
great deal of interest is felt in the 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, tvc shall 
elect Francis Granger, governor. This county "will give him 1000 
majority, and I estimate the vote in the State at 125,000. I need 
not inform you that such a result will be highly satisfactory to your 
liumble servant, II. Greeley." It was a result, however, which he 
had not the satisfaction of contemplating. The confident and yet 
cautious manner of the passage quoted is amusing in a politician 
not tAventy years of age. 

At Lodi, as at Jamestown, our roving journeyman found Avork 
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 his pocket than if he had spent his time in idleness. On his 
way home he fell in with an old Poultney friend who had recently 
lettled in the wilderness, and Horace arrived in time to assist at 
:he ' warming' of the new cabin, a duty which he performed in a 
«'ay that covered him with glory. 

In the course of the evening, a draught-board was introduced, 
and the stranger beat in swift succession half a dozen of the best 
players in the neighborhood. It happened that the place was rather 
noted for its skilful 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 thera not a little. They 
challentred the victor to another encounter at the tavern on the next 
evening. The challenge was accepted. The evening arrived, and 
there was a considerable gathering to witness and take part in the 
struggle — among the rest, a certain Joe "Wilson who had been spe- 
cially sent for, and whom no one had eter beaten, since he came 
into the settlement. The great Joe was lieldnn 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 themselves 
foiled. The reserve was brought up. Joe Wilson took his seat at 



GOES TO ERIE, PA. Ill 

the table. He played his deadliest, pausing long before be hazarded 
a move; the company hanging over the board, hushed and anxious. 
They were not kept many minutes in suspense ; Joe "was overthrown ; 
the unornaraental 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 discomfiture. The board was laid aside, and a lively 
conversation ensued, which was continued 'with unabated spirit 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. He took a ' bee line ' through the woods for the town of 
Erie, thirty miles off, 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 
five thousand inhabitants, and of extensive lake and inland trade. 

The 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 the 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. Sterritt. 

"I was not," Judge Sterritt is accustomed to relate, "I was not 
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. Jly first feeling 
was oce of astonishment, that a fellow so singularly 'green' in In> 



112 HE WANDERS. 

appearance should be reading^ and above all, reading so intently 
I looked at lain for a feAV moments, and then, finding that he mado 
no movement towards acquainting me Avith 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, winning 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 V 

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

K'ow Mr. Sterritt did want help in the printing business, and 
could have given him a job ; but, unluckily, he misinterpreted this 
modest reply, fie at once concluded that the timid applicant was 
a runaway apprentice; and runaway apprentices are a class of their 
fellow-creatures to whom employers cherish a common and decided 
aversion. "Without 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 
office; and so the poor wanderer trudged home again, not in the 
best spirits. 

"Two or three weeks after this interview," continues Judge 
Sterritt — he is a judge, I saw him on the bench — " an acquaint- 
ance of mine, a farmer, called at the office, and inquired if I want- 
ed a journeyman, I did. He said a neighbor of his had a son 
who learned the printing business somewhere Down East, and 
wanted a" place. ' What sort of a looking fellow is he ?' said I. 
He described him, and I knew at once that he was my supposed 
runaway apprentice. My friend, the farmer, gave him a high char- 
acter, however ; so I said, ' Send him along,' and a day or two 
after along he came." 

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



THE TOWN OF ERIE. 113 

to work at the press, unless the office was so much huiried that his 
services in that department could not he dispensed with. He had 
had a little difficulty with his leg, and press work rather hurt him 
tlian otherwise. The bargain included the condition that he was to 
board at Mr. Sterritt's house ; and when 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, Mr. Sterritt, you 've hired that 
fellow 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 '"must 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 
house than if he had 'nt 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 their faithful wives, all rose as One Man against 
the 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 Buffiilo 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, hoots, 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 offence — ^Erie, for the truth cannot be longer dashed from 
utterance, is the shabbiest and most broken-down looking large 
town, 7, 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 
the water, and the land for many miles back is nearly a dead level, 
exceedingly fertile, and quite uninteresting. No, not quitQ. For 



114 HE AVANDEKS. 

much of the primeval forest remains, and the gigantic trees that 
were saplings Avlien Columbus played in the streets of Genoa, 
tower aloft, a hundred feet without a branch, with that exquisite 
daintiness of taper of which the eye never tires, which architecture 
has never equalled, which only Grecian architecture approached, 
and Avas beautiful because it approached it. The City of Erie is 
merely a square mile of this level land, close to the edge of the 
bluff, with 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 ' The Park,' four acres in extent, surrounded 
with a low, broken board fence, that was white-washed a long 
time ago, and therefore noAV 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 wander 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 clei-k, 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 the 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 yerr is, of course, not the Erie of 1831, 
when Horace Greeley walked its streets, with his eyes on the pave- 
ment and a bundle of excK^ifges in his pocket, ruminating on the 



THE LAKE^ 115 



"•v. 



prospects of the next election, or thinkiug out a copy of verses to 
send to his mother. It was a smaller place, then, with fewei brick 
hlocky, more pigs in the street, and no custom-house in the Greek 
style. But it had one feature which has not changed. The Lake 
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 
half a mile, though in reality two miles 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 aAvay further 
tlian 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- 
ly along the horizon, and then, so perfect is the illusion, the stran- 
ger will swear he sees the opposite sliore, not fifteen miles ofi". 
There is no excitement in looking upon a lake, and it has no effect 
upon the appetite or the complexion. 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 Erie, 
where its inmates could have lain on the grass and gazed down, 



116 HE WANDERS. 

tlirough all the slow hours of the long suinraer day, upon the lazy, 
hazy, blue expanse. 

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

The people of Ei'ie 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. iN'ot one house is built along the shore, though the 
shore is high andlevel. Not a path has been worn by human feet 
above or below the bluif. 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 
have been built anywhere else. One could almost say, in a weak 
moment. Give me a cottage on the bluff, and I will lite 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 each 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 the 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. He is remembered there as a remarkably correct 
and reliable compositor, though not as a rapid one, and his steady 
devotion to his work enabled hini to accomplish more than faster 
workmen. lie 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 reading. 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 



NO MORE WORK AT ERIE, 117 

Lis dinner or not. More and more, he becanne absorbed in politics. 
It is said, by one â– who worked beside him at Erie, that he could tell 
the name, post-office address, and something of the 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, even, 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 lake, or sailed over to the Island. His better fortune made no 
change either in his habits or his appearance ; and his employer 
was surprised, that month after month passed, and yet his strange 
journeyman drew no money. Once, !Mr. Sterritt ventured to 
rally, him a little upon his persistence in wearing the hereditary 
homespun, 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. 
Sterritt, 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 eflfort 
to dress up a little ; but the few articles which he bought 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 he 
had drawn for his personal expenses during his residence at Erie, 
the sum of six dollars ! Of the remainder of his wages, he took 
about fifteen dollars in money, and the rest in the form of a note ; 
and with all this wealth in his pocket, he walked once more to his 
father's house. This note the generous fellow gave to his father, 
reserving the money to carry on bis own personal warfare with the 
world. 

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



118 , ARRIVAL IN NE-W YORK. 

try printing offices. He said, he thought it was time to do some- 
thing, 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 jjlunged into the woods in the direction of the 
Erie Canal. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

AREIYAL IN NEW YORK. 

The Journey — a night on the tow-path — He reaches the city — Inventory of his property 
— Looks for a boai ding-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 — The 
boss takes him for a ' dam fool,' but changes his opinion — Nicknamed ' the Ghost ' 
— Practical jokes — Horace metamorphosed — Dispute about commas — The shoe- 
maker's boarding-house — Grand banriuet on Sundays. 

He took the canal-boat at Buffalo and came as far as Lockport, 
whence he walked a few miles to Gaines, and stayed 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 Avaited many hours for an eastward-bound boat to 
pass. Nigkt'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, 
hour 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 swept 
into the canal by the tow-line. Towards morning, a boat of the 
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 



INVENTORY OF HIS PROPERTT. 1]9 

hour, by suggesting that he^ had been courting all uight. Sunday 
evening in country places is sacred to love. His appearance was so 
esceedingly unlike that of a lover, that this sally created much 
amusement, in which 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 between 
those two towns is much obstructed by locks. He reached Albany 
on Thursday morning, just in time to see the seven o'clock steam- 
boat move out into the stream. He, therefore, took passage in a 
tow-boat which started at ten o'clock on the same morning. At 
sunrise on Friday, the eighteenth of August, 1831, Horace Greeley 
landed at Whitehall, close to the Battery, in the city of Xew 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 was ten dollars. His other property con- 
sisted of the clothes he wore, the clothes he carried in his small 
bundle, and the stick with which he carried it. The clothes he 
wore need not be described ; they were those which had already 
astonished the people of Erie. The clothes he cari'ied wei-e 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 could in any case have become a saleable 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. His appearance was all against 
him. 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 



120 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK, 

long and stooping body. He was somewhat timorous in his inter- 
course with strangers. He would not intrude upon tlieir attention ; 
he had not 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 his skill 
as a printer. It had not occurred to him that anything of the kind 
was necessary, so unacquainted was lie with the life of cities. 

His first employment was to 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 jSTorth River as far as "^^ashington-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 was tempted to enter, and 
again inquire for what sum a man could buy a week's shelter and 
sustenance. 

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

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

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



SEARCHES FOR EMPLOYMENT. ' 121 

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

After breakfast Horace performed an act which I believe he had 
never spontaneously performed before. He bought some clothes, 
â– with a view to render himself more presentable. They were of 
the commonest kind, and the garments were few, tut the purchase 
absorbed nearly half his capital. Satisfied with his appearance, 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 oflfice 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 oflSce. All that day he walked the 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 yoxi 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-ofiices 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- 
couraged. 

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 comjde- 
ment of men. On Saturday evening he was still more fotigued. 
He resolved to remaiu in the city a day or two longer, and then, if 



122 ARRIVAL IN Nr;.V YORK. 

still unsuccessful, to lurn his face homeward, and inquire for work 
at the towns through which he passed. Though discouraged, ho 
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 the 
city, he would have carried Avith him about four dollars ; and with 
that sura he could have walked leisurely and Avith an unanxious 
heart all the way back to his father's house, six hundred miles, 
inquiring for Avork at every toAvn, and feeling himself to be a free 
and independent American citizen, travelling 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 young 
man who can Avalk thirty miles a day, and dine contentedly on lialf 
a pound of crackers ! Gi\'e 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 tAvice, and spent a happy day. In the morning he 
induced a man who lived in the house to accompany him to a small 
UniA'ersalist 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 OAvn religious opinions ; and the pleasure with which he 
heard the benignity of the Deity asserted and proved by able men, 
Avas one of the highest he had enjoyed. 

In the afternoon, as if in rcAvard of the pious way in Avhicli he 
spent the Sunday, he heard ncAvs, 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 usual 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 
house which was much frequentfed by journeymen printers. From 
them he had heard that hands were wanted at "West's, No. 85 Chat- 
ham street;, and. ie recommended his ncAv acquaintance to make 
immediate application at that office. 

Accustomed to country bonis, and eager to seize the chance, 



HE HEARS OF A VACANCY. 123 

Horace was in Chatham street aud on the steps of the designated 
house by half-past five on Monday morning. West's printing ofBce 
"was in the second story, the ground floor being occupied by Mc- 
Elrath and Bangs as a bookstore. They were publishers, and West 
was tlieir printer. Neither store nor ofiice was yet opened, and 
Horace sat down on tbe steps to wait. 

Had Thomas McEh'ath, Esquire, happened to pass on an early 
walk to the Battery that morning, and seen our hero sitting on those 
steps, witli his red bundle on his knees, his pale face supported on 
his hands, his attitude expressive of dejection and anxiety, his attire 
extremely unornamental, it would not have occurred to Thomas Mc- 
Elrath, Esquire, as a probable event, that, one day he would be the 
PAETNEE of that sol-ry figui-e, and proud of the connection ! Nor did 
Miss Eeed, of Philadelphia, when she saw Benjamin Franklin pass 
her fathei-'s house, eating a large I'oll and carrying two others under 
his arms, see in that poor Avanderer any likeness of her future hus- 
band, the husband that made her a proud and an immortal wife. 
The princes of the jnind always remain incog, till they come to the 
throne, and, doubtless, the Coming Man, when he conies^ 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 still locked, he sat 
down on the steps by the side of Horace Greeley. They fall into 
conversation, and Horace stated his circumstances, something of his 
history, and his need of employment. Luckily this joui-noyman was 
a Vermonter, 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, " that 
he was an honest, good young man, and being a Vermonter myself, 
I determined to help him if I could." 

He did help him. The doors Avere opened, the men began to 
arrive; Horace aud his newly-found friend ascended to the office, 



124 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. 

and soon after seven the work of tlie clay began. It is hardly neces- 
sary to say that the appearance of Horace, as he sat in the oflBce 
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 he stated 
the case, and endeavored to interest him enough in Horace to give 
him a trial. It happened that the work for which a man was wanted 
in tlie office 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 the sporting public as 
Colonel Porter, editor of the Spirit of the Times.) The foreman 
beheld a youth who could have gone on the stage, that minute, as 
Ezekiel Homespun without the alteration of a thread or a hair, and 
brought down the house by his ' getting up' alone. He no more 
believed that Ezekiel could set up a page of a Polyglot Testament 
tlian that he could construct a chronometer. However, partly to 
oblige Horace's friend, partly because he 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 
see 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 New- York is now knoAvn 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 office. What his feelings were when lie 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 dam 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 hJs conduct, though he was really ashamed 
of it. 



NICKNAMED "THE GHOST." 125 

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

Horace worked through the day with his usual intensity, and in 
perfect silence. At night he presented to the foreman, as the cus- 
tom then was, the ' proof ' of his day's work What astonishment 
was depicted in the good-looking countenance of that gentleman 
when he discovered that the proof before him was greater in quan- 
tity, and more correct than that of any other day's work which 
had yet been done on the Polyglot ! There was no thought of send- 
ing the 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 boys in the office, altogether, of whom two have since been 
members of Congress, three influential editors, and several others 
have attained distinguished success in more private vocations. Most 
of them 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 ; alwaj's, he was the first to 
begin and the last to leave. In the summer, no man beside hini- 
self worked before breakfast, or after tea. While the young men 
and older apprentices were roaming the 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 askance, and 
winked at one another severely. The boys were more demonstra- 
tive, and one of the most mischievous among them named him 
The Ghost, in allusion to his long white hair, and the singular fair- 
ness of his complexion. Soon, however, the men who worked near 



126 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. 

hitn began to suspect that liis luiiid Avas better furnished than his 
person. Horace always had a way of talking profusely while at 
work, and that, too, witliout working with less assiduity. Conver- 
sations soon arose about masonry, temperance, politics, religion ; 
and the new journeyman rapidly argued his way to respectful con- 
sideration. His talk was ardent, animated, and j^ositive. He was 
perfectly confident of his opinions, and maintained them v^ith an 
assurance that in a youth of less understanding and less geniality 
would have been thouglit arrogance. His enthusiasm at this time, 
was Henry Clay ; his great subject, masonry. In a short time, to 
juote tlie language of one his fellow-workmen, ' he was the lion of 
the shop.' Yet for all that, the men who admired him most would 
•lave their joke, and during all the time that Horace remained in 
the 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 the 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 the ofiice in the even- 
ing and working alone by candle-light, concluded that 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,' whizzed past his ear and knocked over his candle. He set 
it straight again and went on with his work. Another ball, and 
another, and another,.and finally a volley. One hit his 'stick,' one 
scattered his type, another broke his bottle, and several struck his 
head. 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 length, he turned round and said, without the slightest ill-humor, 
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 
more. 

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



THE OBLIGINa MAN OF THE OFFICE. 127 

has struck another, he sliould himself he struck; " verj' liard," says 
Jane, "so hard, that lie will he 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, 
and made so thoi-oughly ashamed of himself, that he "vvill ever after 
shrink from striking a wanton or an unjust blow. Sound maxims, 
hoth ; the first, for Jane, the second, for Horace. 

His good humor was, in truth, naturally imperturbable. He was 
soon the recognized obliging man of the office ; the person relied 
upon always 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 AVednesday, they ai'e 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 
rich 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, 2s. 6d, for a breastpin,' 
He never refused to lend his 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-oflSces 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 lost by lotteries now than formerly, is a question which, it is 
surprising, no journalist has determined. Whether they cause 
less or greater demoralization is a question which it wei'e well 
for moralists to consider. 

Of the few incidents which occurred to relieve the monotony of 



128 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. 

the i^rinting-office iu Cbatbain- street, the one which is most glee- 
fully reineinbered is the following : — 

Horace was, of course, subjected to a constant fire 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 noade 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, whither 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, ti 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 whicli depended long and snowy locks. Tlie garments 
were fashionably cut ; the coat was in the style of a swallow's 
tail ; the figure was precisely that of an old gentleman who had 
seen 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 ?" 

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

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

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



PRACTICAL JOKES. 129 

laughed till the tears came, the venerable gentleman being as happy 
as the happiest. 

" Greeley, you must treat upon that suit, and no mistake," said 
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 pleased 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 had 
been washed in blackened water and ironed smooth. A week's 
wear brought out all its pristine shabbiness, and developed new. 

Our hero was not, perhaps, quite so indifferent to his personal ap- 
pearance 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 apartment to speak to 
a friend who worked there upon a hand-press that was exceedingly 
hard 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; "lean." 

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

The press was arranged in such a manner that the lever offered 
no resistance whatever, and, consequently, when Horace seized it, 

6* 



130 ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK. 

and collected all his strength for a tremendous effort, he fell back- 
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 Avhat was the matter. Horace got 
up, pale and trembling from the concussion. • 

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

He stood his ground, however, while the man who 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 
pay 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, Tio objec- 
tion to commas, but he loved them in moderation, and was deter- 
mined to keep them in tlieir place. Debates ensued. The journey- 
' man expounded the subject, and at length, after much argument, 
convinced his employer that a redundancy of commas Avas possible, 
and, in short, that h-e, 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 approbrious 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- 
street and Chatham there was, at that time, a large building, oc- 
cupied below as a grocery and bar-room, the upper stories as a me- 



.aji shoemaker's BOARDIKG-HOUSE. 131 

chanics' boarding-lioiise. It acconnnoclated about fifty boarders, 
^ most of whom .were shoe-makers, who worked in their own rooms, 
or in shops at the top of the house, and paid, for room and board, 
two dollars and a half per week. This was the house to which 
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 Avas at this hojise 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, which has enabled him since to address them so wisely 
and so convincingly. He 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, who 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 aU 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 lodging are not pro- 
vided with aU 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 
Down 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 the winter of 1831. On Sundays Horace and his friends, after 
their return from Mr. Sawyer's (Universalist) church in Orchard- 
street, were accustomed to repair to this establishment, and indulge 



132 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-hanquet, 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 "Westhaven 
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 liumble, 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 followmg is, indeed, the 
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 Tribune 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 IVright 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 bornp 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 sym- 
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 unpopular 
auspices, will be engrafted on our reformed Constitution without serious oppo- 
sition." — Tribune, Dec, 1845. 



CHAPTEK IX. 

FROM OFFICE TO OFFICE. 

Leavea West's— Works on the ' Evening Post' — Story of Mr. Leggett— ' Commercial 
Advertiser' — ' Spirit of the Times' — Specimen of his writing at this period— Natu- 
rally fond of the drama — Timothy Wiggins— Works for Mr. Kedfleld— The first 
lift. 

HoEACE Greelet was a journeyman printer in this city for fom-- 
teen montlia. Those 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 ofBcefell off, and he 
was again a seeker for employment. He obtained a place in the 
office of the ' Evening Post,' whence, it is saicl^ 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 printiug-oflice for the purpose of speaking to the man whose 
place Horace Greeley had taken. 

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

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

" Who has 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 peculiar way. 

Mr. Leggett looked at ' the man,' and said to the foreman, " For 
God's sake discharge him, and let 's have i\.6CQXii-loo]cing 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- 
tiser,' as a ' sub,' probably. Then, for two weeks and a half, upon 
a little paper called ' The Amulet,' a weekly journal of literature 
and art. The ' Amulet' was discontinued, and our hero had to wait 
ten years for his wages. 

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



134 FROM OFFICE TO OFFICE. 

the beginning of a paragrajjU in tljc New Yorker of March 2(3, 
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 inquired his way into the ill-furnish- 
ed, chilly, forlorn-looking attic printing-office in which 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' has 
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 them 
short and unimportant. As a specimen of his style at this period, 
I copy from the 'Spu-it' of May 5th, 1832, the following epistle, 
which was considered extremely funny in those innocent days : 

" Messks. EDfTOBs : — Hear me you shall, pity me you must, while I pro- 
ceed to give a short account of the dread calamities which 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 
volufcility (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, "Ye.s, 
ma'am," "certainly ma'am," at each pause ; and having speedily dispatched 



NATURALLY FOND OF THK DRAMA. 135 

my breakfast, sallied immediately out, and proceeded to attend to the busi- 
ness which engrossed my mind. Dinner-time came, but no time for dinner ; 
and it was late before I was at liberty to wend my way, over wheel-barrows, 
barrels, and all manner of obstructions, towards my boarding-house. All here 
was still ; but by the help of my night-keys, I soon introduced myself tomy 
chamber, dreaming of nothing but sweet repose ; when, horrible to relate ! 
my ears were instantaneously saluted by a most piercing female shriek, pro- 
ceeding exactly from my own bed, or at least from the place where it should 
have been ; and scarcely had sufiicient time elapsed for my hair to bristle on 
my head, 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 imseason- 
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 
established day, supposing me to be previously acquainted and satisfied with 
his intention of so doing ; and another family had immediately taken his 
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 TViggins. 

His connection with the office of a sporting paper procured him 
occasionally an order for admission to a theatre, which he used. 
He appeai'ed to have had a natural liking for the drama ; all intel- 
ligent persons have when they are young ; and one of his compan- 
ions of that day remembers well the intense interest with which he 
once witnessed the performance of Eichard III., at the old Chat- 



136 FROM OFFICE TO OFFICE. 

ham tlieatre. At the close of the play, he said there was another 
of Shakespeare's tragedies -which he had long -wished to see, and 
that -was Ilaiulet. 

Soon after writing his letter, the luckless "Wiggins, tempted hy 
the prospect of hetter -wages, left tlie Spirit of the Times, and went 
back to "West's, and worked for some weeks on Prof Bush's Notes 
on Genesis, 'the worst manuscript ever seen in a printing-oflBce.' 
That finished, he returned to the Spirit of the Times, and remained 
till October, .when he went to visit his relatives in New Hampshire. 
He reached his uncle's farm in Londonderry in the apple-gathering 
season, and going at once to the orchard found his cousins engaged 
in that pleasing exercise. Horace jumped over tha fence, saluted 
them in the hearty and nnornamental 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 the boys roaring with his storfes, or agape with descrip 
tions of city scenes. 

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

He went to work, soon after, for Mr. J. S. Eedfield, now an emi- 
nent publisher of this city, then a stereotyper. Mr. Eedfield favors 
me 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 work 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 brought in Greeley, re- 
marking " sotto voce " as he introduced him, that he was a " boy- 
ish and rather odd looking genius," (to which 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 
set 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 the oflice, and oftentimes nearly double those at work by 
the side of him on the same work. He would accomplish this, 
too, and talh all the time ! The same untiring industry, and the 
same fearlessness and independence, which have characterized his 



THE FIRST PENNY PAPER. 137 

course as Editor of the New York Tribune, were the distinguishing 
features of his character as a journeyman." 

He remained in the office of Mr. Redfield till late in December, 
when the circumstance occurred which gave him his first lift in 
the world. There is a tide, it is said, in the affairs of every man, 
once in his life, 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 ; yet 
one which has never been narrated to the public. It shall, there- 
fore, have in this work a short chapter to itself. 



CHAPTER X. 

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

Importance of the cheap daily press — The originator of the idea — History of the idea 
— Dr. Sheppard's Chatham-street cogitations — The Idea is conceived — It is born — 
Interview witli Horace Greeley — The Doctor Ihinlis he is ' no common boy' — The 
schemer baffled — Daily papers twenty-five 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. 

"When the Historian of the United States shall 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 his 
mind, — "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 not 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 the city of New York in the year 1833. Its results, in this 
country, have already been wonderful indeed, and it is destined to 



138 THE FIRST PEXNT PAPER. 

play a great part in the history of every- ciTilized 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 due 
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 iJfEws ! And the Xews, 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 EaQ and the TTire. 

A catastrophe happens to-day in Xew York. 2Sew Orleans 
shudders to-morrow at the recital ; and the ^JTation shudders before 
the week ends. A ' Great "Word,' uttered on any stump in the 
land, soon illuminates a mUlion minds. A bad deed is perpetrated, 
and the shock of disgust flies with 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 Xews 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 
^ 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 
all, in one way or another, speak through its columns. It brings the 
Course of EtenU to bear on the progress of every individual It is 
the great leveller, elevator and democraticizer. It makes this huge 
Commonwealth, else so heterogeneous and disunited, think with one 



THE ORIGINATOR OF THE IDEA. 139 

mind, feel -with one heart, and talk with one tongue. Dissolve the 
Union into a hundred petty States, and the Press will still keep us, 
in lieart and soul and habit. One People. 

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

There are not, I presume, twenty-five persons alive, who know 
in whose head it was, that the idea of a cheap daily paper origin- 
ated. Nor has the proprietor of that head ever derived from his 
idea, which has enriched so fnany 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 David Sheppard. The story of his idea, amply confirmed 
in every particular by living and unimpeachable witnesses, is the 
following : 

About the ye'ar 1830, Mr. Sheppard, recently come of age and 
into the possession of fifteen hundred dollars, moved from his native 
New 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 lurned 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 
share in a weekly paper. By the time he had completed his medi- 
cal studies, he had gained some insight into the nature of the neAvs- 
paper business, and lost the greater part of his money. 

People who live in Eldridge street, when they have occasion to 
go ' down town,' must necessarily pass through Chatham stree-t, 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.' Apple-stalls, peanut-stalls, stalls- for the sale of oranges, 
melons, pine-apples, cocoanuts, chestnuts, candy, shoe-laces, cakes, 
pocket-combs, ice-cream, suspenders, lemonade, and oysters, line 
the sidewalk. In Chatham street, those small trades are carried on, 
on a scale of magnitude, with a loudness of vociferation, and a 



J 



140 THE FIRST PENNY PAPER. 

flare of lanip-liglit, unknown to any other part of the town. Along 
Cliatliam street, our medical student ofttimes took his way. musing 
on the instability of fifteen hundred dollars, and observing, possibly 
envying, the noisy merchants of the stalls. He was struck with 
the rapidity Avith 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 be 
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 offered him for nothing. Now, thought he, 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 ! 
t^ie thing is done ! If it were only 2}ossiile to produce a small, spicy 
oaily paper for a cent, and get boys to sell it about the streets, how 
it would sell ! How many pennies that now go for cakes and pea- 
nuts would be spent for news and paragraphs ! 

The idea was born— the twin ideas of the penny paper and 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 enough to con- 
front the world. 

Perhaps it is possible, continued the musing man of medicine, on 
a subsequent walk in Chatham street. He went to a paper ware- 
Iwuse, 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- 
pers, ' only one cent,' I am positive, thought the sanguine projector, 
that six of the nine would buy a copy ! His conclusion Avas, that 
he could produce a newspaper about twice the size of an average 
sheet of letter-paper, half paragraphs and half advertisements, and 
Bell it at a cent per copy, with an ample profit to himself. He was 
sure of it ! He had tried all his arithmetic upon the project, and 
the figures gave the same result always. The twins leaped from 



DAILY PAPERS TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO. 141 

the poTich, and taking their progenitor by the throat, led him a fine 
dance before he could shake them off. For the present, they pos- 
sessed him wholly. 

As most of his little inheritance had vanished, it was necessary 
for him to interest some one in the scheme who had either capital 
or a printing o^ce. 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 he 
first unfolded his plans and exhibited his calculations. Mr. Greeley 
was not present on liis 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- 
ry 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 hoy.'''' 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 his 
leave. 

Nor is it at all surprising that they should have regarded it in 
that light. A daily newspaper in those days was a solemn thing. 
People in mo'derate circumstances seldom saw, never bought one. 
The price was ten dollars a years. 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, half a column of business and 
shipping intelligence, and the rest of the ample sheet covered with 
advertisements, and you have before your mind's eye the New York 
daily paper of twenty-five years ago. It was 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 tlie respectable 
New Yoi-kers of 1831, unspeakably absurd. When the respectable 



142 THE FIRST PENNY PAPER, 

ISew Yorker first saw a penny paper, he gazed at it (I 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. Sheppard — he had now taken his degree — was not disheart- 
ened by the meriy reception of his idea at the office of the Spirit of the 
Times. He went to other offices — to nearly every other office ! For 
eighteen months it was his custom, whenever opportunity offered, 
to expound his project to printers and editors, and, in fact, to any 
one who would listen to him lon^ enough. He could not convince 
one man of the feasibility of his scTieme.^ — not one! A feAv people 
thought it a good idea for the instruction 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 jyay 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. 

Reader, 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 effisrt 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 Mi-. Francis Story, the foreman of the Spirit 
of the Times office, Avho, about that time, was watching for 
an opportunity to get into business on his own account. To him 
Dr. Sheppard announced his intention, and proposed that he should 
establish an office and print the forthcoming paper, ofiering to pay 
the bill for composition every Saturday. Mr. Story hesitated ; but, 
on obtaining from Mr. Sylvester a promise of the printing of his 
Banli Note Reporter.^ he embraced Dr. Sheppard's proposal, and 
offisred Horace Greeley, 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 of 
that gentleman ; and, secondly, he was of opinion that the smallest 
price for which a daily paj-'cr could be profitablvsold was two cents. 



THE FIRM OF GREELEi' AND STORY. 143 

His arguments ou the latter point did not convince the ardent doc- 
tor ; but, -with the hope of overcoming his scruples and enlisting 
his co-operation, he consented to give up his darling idea, and tix 
the price of his paper at tAvo 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, the charm, the impudence of Dr. 
Sheppard's project all lay in those magical words, 'Peice One 
Cent,' which his paper was to have borne on its heading — but did 
not. And the 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 aj^pear, Horace Greeley's advice, therefore, though good 
as a general principle, Avas not applicable to the case in hand. Not 
that the proposed paper would, or could, have succeeded upon any 
terms. 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 h-as 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 
favorable terms, and with the utmost punctuality and dispatch. 

On the morning of January 1st, 1833, the Moknestg 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 qaite 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 cold. There were few people in the streets, and those few 



144 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 upon Mr. Greeley, and they were produced under every 
conceivable disadvantage. Yet, with all these misfortunes and 
drawbacks, several hundred copies were daily sold, and Dr. Shep- 
pard was able to pay all the expenses of the first week. On the 
second Saturday, however, ho paid his printers half in money and 
half in promises. On the third day of the third week, the faith 
and the patience of Messrs. Greeley and Story gave out, and the 
' Morning Post' ceased to exist. 

Tlie 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 bad pursued his Idea. The ofiice 
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 'shines 

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, su intelligently com- 



FANNY FERN AND THE PEA-NUT MERCHANT. 145 

mented upon, as to place the New York Press at the head of tlie 
journalism of the world. The Cheap Press, be it observed, had, 
first of all, to create itself^ and, secondly, to create its Piiblic. The 
papers of the old school have gone on their way prospering. They 
are read by the class that read them formerly. But — mark that 
long line of hackraen, each seated on hia box waiting for a customer, 
and each reading Ids morning ixqKr ! 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 this is new. 
All this has resulted from the Chatham-street cogitations of Hora- 
tio David Sheppard. 

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

THE MAN WnO DOES TAKE THE PAPEE. 

To the Editor of The jY. 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 ivould 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 you want a thing done do it 
yourself," 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 is 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 you this morning's Tribune?" said I, looking as amiable as I 
knew how. 

" No Ma'am," was the decided replj'. 

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

"Well, you can't have that, Ma'am," said the disconcerted peanut mer- 
chant, " for I have n't read it myself!" 

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

7 



146 



THE FIRM CONTINUES. 



(A shake of the head.) 

" Four cents ?" 

(Another shake.) 

"Sixpence?" (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 you that nobody shall have that Tribune till I hare 
read it myself !" 

Tou 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 Febn. 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE FIEM CONTINUES 

Lottery printing — The Constitutionalist— Dudley S. Gregory— The lottery suicide— 
The firm prospers— Sudden death of Sir. 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 the 
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 
sjnall, dingy, quarto of four pages, of which one page only was 
devoted to reading matter, the rest being occupied by lottery 
tables and advertisements. The heading of this interesting peri- 



DtlDLEV' S. GREGORY. 147 

odical was as follows : " The Constitutionalist, "Wilmington, Dela- 
ware. Devoted to the Interests of Literature, Internal Improve- 
ment, 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- Press 
Printing, particularly Lottery Printing, such as schemes, periodicals, 
&c., which will be executed on favorable terms." 

Horace Greeley, 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 
I 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 enougb, 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, Jersey City, and Jersey Citizens, owe so much ; m 
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. This brought him in 
contact with the senior member of the firm of Greeley and Story, 
to 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 



148 THE FIRM CONTINUES. 

newspapers clamored for their suppression by law. The lottery 
dealers were alarmed. In the midst of this excitement, Horace 
Greeley, while standing at the case, composed an article on th© 
subject, the purport of -which is said to have been, that the argu- 
ment for and against lotteries was not affected by the suicide of that 
young -*iian; but it simply proved, that he, the suicide, w^as a per- 
son of weak character, and had nothing to do with the question 
whether the State ought, or ought not, to license lotteries. This 
article was inserted in one of the lottery papers, attracted consider- 
able attention, and made Mr. Gregory aware that his printer was 
not an ordinary man. Soon after, Mr. Greeley changed his opin- 
ion on the subject of lotteries, and advocated their suppression 
by law. 

Greeley and Story were now prosperous printers. Their business 
steadily increased, and they began to accumulate capital. The term 
of their copartnership, however, was short. The great dissolver of 
partnerships. King Death himself, dissolved theirs in the seventh 
month of its existence. On the 9th of July, Francis Story went 
down the bay on an excursion, and never returned alive. He was 
drowned by the upsetting of a boat, and his body was brought back 
to the city the same evening. There had existed between these 
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 coffin to look for the last time on the marble 
features that had never turned to his with an unkind expression, he 
said, " Poor Story ! shall I ever meet Avitli any one who will bear 
\vith me as he did ?" To the bereaved family Horace Greeley be- 
haved Avith the most scrupulous justice, sending Mi*. 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 Lis 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 
'iterest; and when it was over, he exclaimed aloud, "That's tho 



SYLVESTER GRAHAM. 149 

most beautiful service I ever saw. If ever I am married it shall be 
by that form." 

The business of "Greeley and Co." went on prospering through 
the year ; but increase of means made not the slightest difference 
in our hero's habits or appearance. His indifference to dress was 
a clironic complaint, and the ladies of his partnei-'s family tried in 
vain to coax and laugh him into a conformity with the usages of 
society. They hardly succeeded in inducing him to keep his shirt 
buttoned over his white bosom. "He was always a clean man, you 
know," says one of them. 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. 
" That's me," said the master, with a smile, and passed in to his 
work. The men made a point of appearing to differ in opinion from 
him on every subject, because they liked to hear him talk ; andj, 
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. Winchester) — You ought to know best. I do n't know 

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

(John) — I 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 either go to dinner or resume his 
work, in unsuspecting accordance therewith. 

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



150 THE FIRM C0NTINUK6. 

tlierefore indigestible food. A simple message, and one most obvi- 
ously true. Tlie wonder is, not that he sliould have obtained fol- 
lowers, but that there should have been found one human being so 
besottedly ignorant and so incapable of being instructed as to deny 
the truth of his leading principles. Graham was a remarkable man. 
lie 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 ; that 
disease is impious and disgraceful, the result, in almost every in- 
stance, of folly or crime. He exonerated God from the aspersions 
cast upon his wisdom and goodness by those who attribute disease 
to hi^ " mysterious dispensations," and laid all the blame and shame 
of the ills thoX flesh endures at the door of those who endure them. 
Graham Avas 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 in a form 
â– which -will not repel, but win the reader to perusal and convic- 
tion. 

Horace Greeley, like every other thinking person that beard Dr. 
Graham lecture, was convinced that upon the whole he was right. 
He abandoned the use of stimulants, and took care in selecting hia. 
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 house, 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 the Graham House, a silly woman who lived 
there tried her small 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 killing reply, " if you had, the cat would cer- 
tainly take that man with the white head for a gosling, and fly at 
him." 

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



EDITOR OP THE NEW YORKER. 151 

said nothing, but was occasionally roused to most vehement argu- 
ment ; a man much given to reading and cold-water baths. 

In the beginning 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 fur- 
ther of opinion, that it contained within itself an amoimt of edito- 
rial 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 writex 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 XII. 

EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER, 

Character of the Paper— Its Early Fortunes— Happiness of the Editor— Scene in the Of- 
fice — Specimens of Horace Greeley's Poetry— Subjects of his Essays— His Opinions 
then — His Marriage — The Silk-stoclcing Story — A day in Washington— His impress- 
ions of the Senate — Pecuniary difficulties — Causes of the New- Yorker's ill-success 
as a Business — Tiie missing letters — The Editor gets 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 



152 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

confidence, his sanctum, and liis 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 his expenditures, or 
the excess of his expenditures over his receipts. Accordingly, the 
whole history of the New Yorker, and the story of its editor's joys 
and sorrows, his trials and his triumphs, lie j^lainly and fully writ- 
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 occasion- 
ally manifest, in spite of himself. The heat and fury of some of 
his later writings never characterize the essays of the New Yorker. 
He 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 we 
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 editors 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 when, on the 22d of 
March, 1834, the first number appeared, it sold to the extent of one 
hundred copies. No wonder. Neither of the prqjDrietors had any 
reputation with 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 debut which is seldom encoun- 



SCENE IN THE OFFICE. 153 

tered in the outset of periodicals aspiring to general popularity and patron- 
age. Ours is not blazoned through the land as, ' The Cheapest Periodical in 
the AYorld,' '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 bolster 
up a rigmarole of preposterous and charlatan pretensions. And indeed so 
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 
and prospects, has invariably been this : — ' You do not indulge sufiSciently 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 patronage which they shall deem warranted by our performances 
rather than our promises." 

The public took the New Yorker at its word. The second nxtm- 
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 hundred papers gave the New Yorker 
a eulogistic notice. The editor became, at once, a person known 
and valued throughout the Union. lie enjoyed his position thor- 
oughly, and he labored not more truly with all his might, than with 
all his heart. 

The spirit in which he performed his duties, and the glee with 
which he entered into the comicaUties 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 
after 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 most 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 we not deem these grumblers 
more plentiful among the brethren of the quill than in other professions, sim- 
ply because the graaniugs uttered through the press are more widely circu' 



154 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

lated than when merely breathed to the night-air of some unsympathizing 
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 editorial 
groanings were of this sort. Now, we pride ourselves rather on the delights 
of our profession ; and we rejoice to say, that we find them neither few nor 
inconsiderable. There is one which even now flitted across our path, which, 
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 be constrained to allow our 
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 papter 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 your service. 

Gent. Did you write this, sir ? 

Editor. Takfis 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 
it 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 1 

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'Ior. I know nothing of you, sir, but from the testimony of friends and 
your own advertisements in the papers — and these combine to assure ma 
that } ou are a quack. 



HORACE Greeley's poetry. 155 

Gent. That is what my enemies say, sir; but if you examine my certi- 
ficates, sir, you will know the contrary. 

Editor. I am open to conviction, sir. 

Gent. Well, sir, I have been advertising in the Traveller for some time, 
and have paid them a great deal of money, and here they come out this week 
and abuse me — 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 be 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'{ 
Every man has his enemies. 

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

Gent. Yes, you have — / 'm your enemy ! — and the enemy of every one who 
misrepresents me. 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 
some folks can edit newspapers as well as others. 

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

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

Another proof of tlie 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, one given 
to politics, sub-soil plows, and other subjects supposed to be unpo- 
etical, 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 " H. G." He has published, 
in all, about thirty-five poems, of which the New-Yorker contains 
twenty ; the rest may be found in the Southern Literary Messenger, 
and various other magazines, annuals, and occasional volumes. I 



156 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

have seen no poem of liis which does not contain the material of 
poetry — thought, feeUug, fancy; but in few of them was the poet 
enabled to give his thought, feeling and fancy complete 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 poetic 
period is past. 

The following is a tribute to the memory of one who was the ideal 
liero of his youthful pohtics. It was published in the first number 
of the jSTew-Yorker : 

OX THE DEATH OF WILLIAM WIRT. 

Rouse not the muffled drum, 
"Wake not the martial trumpet's mournful sound 

Por him whose mighty voice in death is dumb ; 
"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 — 
Silently bear him to the house of death : — 
The aching hearts by whom 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 grief, 
"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 — 



NERo's TOMB. 157 

Earth has no spell whose magic shall not fail 
To light the glcH>m that shrouds thy narrow bed, 
Or 1V00 tliee 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 alilie have spurned the clod— 

Kest thee in God. 

A series of poems, entitled " Historic 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'sasing and char- 
•acteristic : 

NERO'S TOMB. 
" When Nero perished by the justest doooi, 

lit •(• ^ /p Jt" 

Some hand unseen strewed flowers upon his graV'^." 

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

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

Alone remained ? ' Ah ! no ; 
Eome's scathed and blackened walls retold th* 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 w^eep — 

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

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

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



158 EDITOU OF THE NEW YORKER. 

"What mean those gentle flowers ? 
So sweetly smiling in the face of wrath — 

Children of genial suns and fostering showers. 
Now cruslied V'lnd 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 eartli unmourned depart ; 

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

The heavenly image in liis features traced — 
Or quenched the love unchanging to the last ! 

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 

AVitli shouts 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 31st, 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 ; 



-I 



FANTASIES. 

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

They deem me proud, that, where the world hath flattered, 
I ne'er have 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 rides 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 thee ! 

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

Nor 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 me, 

Nor fail the star that lights 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 may scorn thee. 
Be but thy soin. still pure, thy feelings warm ; 



159 



160 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

Be' thine bright Intellect's unfiiding treasures, 

And Poes3-'s more deeply-hallowed spell, 
And Faith the zest -which heightens all tliy pleasures, 

With trusting love— Maid of my soul ! farewell ! 

One more poem claims place here, if from its autobiographical 
character alone. Those who 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 appeared 
in the Southern Literary Messenger for August, 1840. 

THE FADED STARS. 

I mind the time when Heaven's high dome- 
Woke in my soul a Avondrous thrill — 

"When every leaf in Nature's tome 
Bespoke creations marvels still ; 

When mountain cliff and sweeping glade, 
As morn unclosed her rosy bars. 

Woke joys intense^-but naught e'er bade 
My heart ieap up, like you, 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 Man born to die ? 



SUBJECTS OF HIS ESSAYS. ICl 

'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 hiu-rying by ; "^ 

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 tJiis strife be not in vain ; 
To war on Fraud entrenched with Power — 

On smooth Pretence and specious "Wrong — 
This task be mine, though Fortune lower ; 

For this be banished sky and song. 

The subjects upon which the editor of the New Yorker tidfcd tc 
descant, as editor, contrast curiously with tliose 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 Eelations with France,' ' Speculation,' 
' The Science of Agriculture,' ' Usury Laws,' ' The Currency,' ' Over- 
trading,' ' Divorce of Bank and State,' ' National Conventions,' ' In- 
ternational Copyright,' ' Relief 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 tJie aiithority in the de- 
partment of political statistics. There were many people who did 
â– 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 Horace Greeley. To 
quote the language of a proof-reader — "If there is a thing that will 
make Horace fiu-ious, it is to have a name spelt wrong, or a mistake 



102 KDITOR OF THE NEW YOnKER, 

ill election returns." In fact, he was morbid on the subject, till 
time toughened hira ; time, and proof-readers. 

The opinions â– which he expressed in the columns of the New 
Yorker are, in general, those to wliich he still adheres, though on a 
few subjects he used language wliich he would not now use. His 
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, lie 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, unpalliated 
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 verj- much in toae. Then, he thought the North the ag- 
gressor. Since then, we have had Mexican Wars, Nebraska bills, 
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 its 
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. 103 

the decline of Virginia, of Maryland, of Carolina. We see it even retarding 
the growth of the new State of Missouri, and causing her to fall far behind 
her sister Indiana in improvement and population. And we venture to assert, 
that if the ohjections 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.' " 

ijt JjC SJt J|I Jj! 5p 1* 

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 countrj', 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 history of the nineteenth century will afford a direct con- 
tradiction to all former experience. * * * y^Q 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 that which has been the theatre of their servitude and degra- 
dation. They 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 was 
feeling his way towards it. He wrote thus : 

" Were we called upon to indicate simply the course which should be pursued 
for the eradication of this crying evil, our compliance would be a far easier 
matter. We should say, unhesitatingly, that the vending of alcohol, or of 
liquors of which alcohol forms a leading component, should be regulated by 
the laws which govern the sale of other insidious, yet deadly, poisons. It 
Bhould be kept for sale only by druggists, and dealt out in small portions, 
and with like regard to the character and ostensible purpose of the applicant 



164 ErnTOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

as in the case of its counterpart. * * * * But we must not forget, that 
wo are to determine simply what may be done by the friends of temperance 
for the advancement of the noblo cause in which they are engaged, rather 
than what tho 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 liquora 
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 $100 to SIOOO per annum — which would have tho effect of 
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, 
as to render its adoption and efficiency extremely doubtful." 

The most bold and stirring of his articles in the New Yorker, 
was one on the " Tyranny of Opinion," which was suggested by tho 
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 which 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 tho 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 
jropound 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 and 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 of&cer 
of the customs, or a lamp-lighter ; while, if he be positively and frankly 
sceptical in his theology, grave judges pronounce him incompetent to give 



HIS MARRIAGK. . K35 

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 to 
the errors of parties or individuals ; it flows naturally from the vice of the 
age and country — the tyranny of Opinion. It can never be wholly rectified 
until the whole community shall be brought to feel and aclsnowledge, 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 well 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 
â–  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 shame- 
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 ofiice ? "Why 
might it not as properly be insisted that a town-oflicer should be six feet 
high, or have red hair, if the majority were so distinguished, as that he 
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 V 

In the New Yorker of July 16th, 1836, may be seen, at the 
head of a long list of recent marriages, the following interesting an- 
nouncement : 

"In Immanuel church, AYarrentown, North Carolina, on Tues- 
day morning, 5th inst, by Eev, William Norwood, Mr. Horace 
Greeley, editor of the New Yorker, to Miss Y. Cheney, of War- 
rentown, formerly of this city." 

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






166 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

tinned by correspondence after Miss Cheney, in the pursuit of her 
vocation, liad removed to North Carolina. Thither the lover hied ; 
the two became one, and returned together to Is^ew York. They 
were married, as he said he would be, by the Episcopal form. 
Sumptuous was the attire of the bridegroom ; a suit of fine black 
broadcloth, and " on this occasion only," a pair of silk stockings ! 
It appears that 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 his 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 anotlier garment. The questioir 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 said, before his 
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 "Washington, 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 the 
floor is Mr. Clay, who is incessantly in motion, and whose spare, 
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 while his face was completely averted, would give assur- 
ance that he Avas 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 ideas reminded me of a Ijarrel filled 



A-> 



PECUNIABY DIFFICULTIES. 1G7 

with pebbles, each of which must find great difiiculty in escaping 
from the very sohdity 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 
has the least intellectual countenance I ever saw on a senator. Mr. 
"Webster was not in his place." * * * * it xhe best 
speech was that of Mr. Crittenden, of Kentucky. That man is not 
appreciated so higbly as he should and must be. He has a 
rough readiness, a sterling good sense, a republican manner and 
feeling, and a vein oi 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 New 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 October, 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 vory 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 
five 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, be3'ond all re- 
ceipts, of two 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 un.able 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 



168 EDITOR OF THE KEW YORKER. 

our expenditures effected. With the exercise of the most parsimonious frugal. 
ity, and aided by the extreme kindness and generous confidence of our friends, 
•sve have barely and with great difficulty 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- 
ing 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 proprietors 
having charge respectivelj' 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 besides 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 for charity, 
but for justice. "Whoever among you is in our debt, no matter how small the 
sum, is guilty of a mora! 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, andr 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 all in si- 
lence : we now tell you we must Ifave our pay. Our obligations for the next 
two months are alarmingly heavy, and they 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 for 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. 

" We have struggled until we can no longer doubt that, with the present 
currency — 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 
including notes of two and three dollars, one half our receipts would come to 



PECUNIARY DIFFICULTIKS. 169 

US directly from tbe subscribers ; without such notes, we must submit to an 
agent's charge on nearly every collection. Besides, the notes from the South 
Western States are now at from twenty to thirty per cent, discount ; and have 
been more : those from the West range from six to twenty. All notes beyond 
the Delaware Iliver range from twice to ten times the discount charged upon 
them when we started the New Yorker. We 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 pay. But one course, then, is left us — to tax our valuable 
patronage with the delinquences of the worse than worthless — the paying for 
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 Iiis- 
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 gaze 
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 ' attraction' brings us to the confession that the 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 lack, 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 Mr. 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, seven copartners in its publication 
have successively withdrawn from the concern, generally, we regret to say, 
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 
the complaint of more than one of our retiring associates; 'you ought to 

8 



170 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

raako more noise, and vaunt your own merits. The world will never believe 
you print a good paper unless you tell tbera so.' Our course has not been 
changed by those representations. We have endeavored ia all things to 
maintain our self-respect and deserve tbe good opinion of others ; if we have not 
succeeded in the latter particular, the failure is much to he 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 scarcely 
outweigh the weekly evidence still more abundantly and convincingly fur- 
nished. We are aware that this view of the case is controvered by practical 
results in some cases ; but we are content with the old course, and have never 
envied the success which Merit or Pretence 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 eitlier 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, which, in all times and countries, is a snrall 
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- 
tiye 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 jadiciously parcelled out, form 
the staiuini of at least, one professor of languages, two brazen lee- 



CAUSES OF THE NEW YORKEr's ILL-SUCCESS. 171 

turers on science, ethics, oi* phrenologj", and three average congress- 
ional or other demagogues. Why, then, should starvation wave 
his skeleton sceptre 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 
where he had not sown. He was too amiable, too confiding, loo 
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-ofiice himself, and receiving a 
large number of letters, put them, it is said, into the pockets of 
Lis 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 thought 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 tlie 
first cool day in October, when the editor was shaking a summer's 
dirt fi-om 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 
see 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!" said the puppy, "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 ia 
exceedingly disagreeable to those who assist in them. 

4. The Year of Ruin. 



172 EDITOR OF THE NEW YORKER. 

6. The ' cash principle,' the only safe one, had not been yet ap- 
plied to the newspaper business. The New Yorker lost, on an aver- 
age, 1,200 dollars a year by the removal of subscribers to parts 
unknown, who left without paving 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 Feae 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. TTiat 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 commensurate with 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, bnt only 
alludes, to his anguish at this period. "Through most of the time," 
he wrote years afterwards, " I was very poor, and for four years re- 
ally bankrupt ; though always paying my notes and keeping my 
word, but living as poorly as possible." And again : " My embar- 
rassments were sometimes dreadful ; not that I feared destitution, 
bnt the fear of invoUing my friends in my misfortunes was vejy 
bitter." 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 number of the New Yorker yon 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 ; but that con- 
stant and invincible friend would not listen to it. He insisted on 
his continuing the struggle, and otfered his assistance with such 



PARK BENJAMIN. HENRY J. RAYMOND. 173 

frank and earnest cordiality, that our hero's scruples were 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 
of long duration. It was long enough, however, to make him ac- 
quainted with the character of his associate. On retiring, in Octo- 
ber, 1839, he wrote : " Grateful to my feelings has been my inter- 
course with the readers of the New Yorker and with 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 which my coadjutor may interpose, that I can- 
not leave the association which 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 the 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; 
his plain good name is his best eulogy." 

A few months later, Mr. Henry J. Eaymond, a recent graduate 
of Burlington College, Vermont, came to the city to seek his for- 
tune. He had written some creditable sketches 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 something bet- 
ter," and it may encourage some young, hard-working, uniecognized, 
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. The said unrecognized, however, should further be informed, 
that Mr. Eaymond is tlie hardest and swiftest worker connected 
with the New York Press. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE JEFFERSOXIAN. 

Objects of the Jeffersonian— Its character— A novel Glorious- Victory paragraph— 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 published 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 the 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 whigs 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 intelHgence, at a rate which shall place it absolutely within the 
reach of every man 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 Whig party a Governor, Lieutenant Governor, 
Senate, Assembly, U. S. Senator, Congressmen, and all the vast ex- 
ecutive patronage of the State, then amounting to millions of dol- 
lars a year." 



GLORIOUS VICTORY. 175 

The Jeffersonian was a good paper. It was published in a neat 
quarto form of eight pages. Its editorials, generallj' few and brief, 
were written to coavince, 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 
more, of general intelligence. It was not, in the slightest degree, 
like what is generally understood by a ' campaign paper.' Capital 
letters and points of admiration wei'e as little used as in the sedate 
and courteous columns of the Jfew 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 pounij-master and two hog-reeves elected ! There never was such a 
triumph !" 

Stop, my friend. Have you elected the best men to the several offices to be 
filled 1 Have you chosen men who have hitherto evinced not only capacity 
but integrity 7 — men whom you would trust implicity in every relation and 
business of life 7 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- 
son 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 unexaraplecl 'campaign' language. In a word, 
the Jeffersonian was a bettel* fifty cffnts worth of thought and fact 
than had previously, or has since, been afforded, in the form of a 
weekly paper. 

The columns of the Jeffersonian afford little material for the pur- 
poses of this volume. There are scarcely any of those character- 
istic touches, those autobiographical allusions, that contribute so 
much to the interest of other papers with which our hero has been 
connected. Tliis 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 this 
ofiice.) / 



170 THE JEFFERSONIAN, 

I will indulge the reader AvitL one article entire from the Jeffer- 
son ian ; 1, because it is interesting ; 2, because it will serve to show 
the spirit and the manner of the editor in recording and comment- 
ing upon the topics of the day. He has since written more em- 
phatic, but not more effective articles, on similar subjects ; 

THE TRAGEDY AT WASHINGTON. 

The -whole country is shocked, and its moral sensibilities outraged, by the 
horrible tragedy lately perpetrated at "Washington, of which a member of 
Congress was the victim. It was, indeed, an awfnl, yet wo will hope not a 
profitless catastrophe ; and we blush for human nature when we observe the 
most 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 official in- 
fluence and exertion 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 investigated 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 tlie 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 be 
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 one. 

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 
liablo to be understood, because the writer was not worthy the treatment of 
a gentleman, the dishonor was reflected on himself as the bearer of a di3;;race- 



THE GRAVES AND CILLEY DUEL. 177 

ful message. Mr. Graves, therefore, wrote a note to Mr. C, asking him if 
he were correct in his understanding that the letter in question 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. Webb as a gentleman. To this note Mr. Cilley replied, on the ad- 
visement of his friends, that he declined the note of Col. Webb, because he 
" chose to be drawn into no controversy with him," and added that he 
" neither afiBrmed nor denied anything in regard to his character." This was 
considered by Mr. Graves as involving him fully in the dilemma which he 
was seeking to avoid, and amounting to an impeachment of his veracity, and 
he now addressed another note to inquire, " xchether you declined to receive his 
(Col. Webb's) covimunication on the ground of any personal objection to him 
as a gentleman of honor?" To this query Mr. Cilley declined to give an 
answer, denying the right of Mr. G. to propose it. The next letter in course 
was a challenge from Mr. Graves by the hand of Mr. Wise, promptly respond- 
ed to by Mr. Cilley through Gen. Jones of AVisconsin. 

The weapons selected by Mr. Cilley 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 ho 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 7" The reply was — " 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 he chose not to be drawn into any controversy with Colonel Webb." 
This is Mr. Jones' version ; Mr. Wise thinks he said, " My friend refuses to 
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- 

8* 



178 THE JEFFERSONIAN. 

turned to Mr. Jones aud 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 been 
mutually and anxiously desirous that the affair should here terminate, but no 
arrangement could be effected. Mr. Graves insisted that his antagonist 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 AVebb for words 
spoken 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- 
pressed a wish to see him, and was answered by Jlr. Jones — " My friend is 
dead, sir !" 

Colonel AVebb 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- 
pose.d to concede anything from the first in consideration of his own course 
when a difficulty recently arose between two of his colleagues, Messrs. Jarvis 
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 
us 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- 
acts and palliates this atrocity. It appears evident that Mr. Cilley's course 
must have been based on the determination that Col. Webb was not entitled 



THE EDITOR OVERWORKED. 179 

to be regarded as a gentleman ; and if so, there was hardly an escape from 
a bloody conclusion after Mr. Graves had once consented, however uncon- 
sciously, to bear the note of Col. Webb. Each of the parties, doubtless, acted 
as 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 eye of reason, of morality, 
of humanity, and the imperative laws of man and of God. Of the principals, 
cue 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 
anguish and remorse the hour when he was impelled to imbrue his hands in 
the blood 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 young man, has been for two years Spea,ker of the House of 
Representatives of Maine, and was last year elected to Congress from the 
Lincoln District, which is decidedly opposed to him in politics, and which 
recently gave 1,200 majority for the 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, 
so direful in its consequences. 

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

The year of the Jeffersonian was a most laborious and harassing 
3ne. 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 
weekly 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 Avith the bed-bugs of the cabin, or the 
politicians of the hurricane-deck, he hurried off to new duties at the 
office of the Jeffersonian. The Albany boat of 1838 was a very 
different style of conveyance from the Albany boat of the present 



180 THE LOG CABIN. 

year of our Lord. It was, in fact, not much more than six times as 
elegant and comfortable as the steamers that, at this hour, j)ly in 
the seas and channels of Europe. The suflForings of our hero may 
be imagined. 

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



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE LOG-CABIN. 

"TIPPECANOE AND TTLEE TOO.". 

Wire-pulling— The delirium of 1840— The Log-Cabin— Unprecedented hit— A glance at 
its pages — Log-Cabin jokes — Log-Cabin songs— Horace Greeley and the cake-ba»- 
ket— Pecuniary difflculties continue— The Tribune annouiiced. 

"WiEE-PTiLLiNG is & Sneaking, bad, demoralizing business, and the 
people hate it. The campaign of 1840, which resulted in the elec- 
tion of General Harrison to the presidency, was, at bottom, the 
revolt of the people of the United States against the wire-pulling 
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 slowly, from 
the disasters of 1836 and 1837, ancf the times were still 'hard.' 
But the fire and fury of the struggle arose from the fact, that Gen- 
eral Harrison, a man who had done something, ^ivas pitted against 
Martin Van Buren, a man who had pulled wires. The hero of Tip- 
pecanoe and the farmer of North Bend, against the wily diplomatist 
who partook of sustenance by the aid of gold spoons. The Log- 
Cabin against the White House. 

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



UNPRECEDENTED HIT. 181 

Wolsey ; as the elephant, with a tap of his trunk, knoclis the breath 
out of the little tyrant whom he had been long accustomed implicitly 
\o obey, — so do the People, in some quite unexpected moment, blow 
away, with one breath, the elaborate and deep-laid schemes of the 
republican wire-puller; and him/ They have done it, O wire-pul- 
ler ! and will do it again. 

"Who can have forgotten that campaign of 1840? The 'mass 
meetings,' the log-cabin raisings, the 'hard cider' drinking, the song 
singing, the Tippecanoe clubs, the caricatures, the epigrams, the 
jokes, the universal excitement ! General Harrison was sung into 
the presidential chair. • Van Buren 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, Tippecanoe flags, Tippecanoe handker- 
chiefs, Tippecanoe almanacs, and Tippecanoe shaving-soap. All 
other interests were swallowed up in the 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 
w'ith 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-Oabin 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 sis 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, which Mr. Greeley's friends thought 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. In a few days, how- 
ever, the demand became so urgent, that the number was re-set, and 
an edition of ten thousand struck off. Altogether, forty-eight thou- 
sand of the first number were sold. Subscribei's came pouring in 
at the rate of seven hundred a day. The list lentrthened in a few 



182 THE LOO CABIN. 

weeks to sixty thousand naines, and kept increasing till the weekly 
issue was between eighty and ninety thousand. ' H. Greeley and 
Co.' were really ovcrwlielined 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, 
thus : — 

" 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 the day, who commenced by promising Prosperity, 
Abundance, and Plenty of Gold as the sure result of thdr policy; 
and lo ! Ave have its issues in disorganization, bankruptcy, low 
wages and treasury rags. In fine, it will be the advocate of Free- 
dom, Improvement, and of ISTational 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 the People, 
Such are the objects and scope of the Log Cabin." 

The contents of the 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 had 
twenty-eight articles and paragraphs of this description. The sec- 



A GLANCK AT ITS PAGES. 183 

ond page contained editorials and correspondence. The third was 
wliere the " Splendid Victories," and " Unprecedented Triumphs," 
were recorded. The fourth page contained a Tippecanoe song with 
music, and a few articles of a miscellaneous character. Dr. Chan- 
niug's lecture upori the Elevation of the Laboring Classes ran 
through several of the early numbers. M.ost 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 Buren caught in a trap, and over the picture was 
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 spetjng, and a sly nibbler 
from KinderTiook 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 were mostly of a serious and argument- 
p,tive cast, upon the Tariff, the Currency, and the Hard Times. 
They were able and timely. The sinrit of the campaign, however, 
is contained in the other departments of the paper, from which a 
few brief exti'acts 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 Avith 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 speechify ings 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- 
ner of Harrison and Reform was displayed. 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 
whose citizens had ever been strong Jackson and Van Buren men. Soon after- 
wards a party jf horsemen, about forty ^in number, dressed in Indian costume, 
armed with tomahawks and scalping knives, approached the Cabin! The 
whigs made prompt preparations to defend their banner. The scene became in- 
tensely exciting. The assailants rode up tothe Cabin, dismounted, and surren- 
dered themselves up as voluntary prisoners of war. On inquiry, they proved to 
be stanch Jackson men from Harbor Creek, who had taken that mode of array- 



184 THE LOa CABIN. 

ing themselves under the Harrison Banner ! The tomahawk was then bur- 
ied ; after which the siring of the latch was pushed out, and the Harbor-Crcek- 
ors were ushered into the Cabin, where they pledged their support to Harri- 
son in a bumper of good old hard cider." 

The great joker of that election, as of every other since, was Mr. 
Prentice, of the Louisville Journal, the wittiest of editors, living or 
dead. Many of his good things appear in the Log Cabin, but most 
of them allude to men and events that have been forgotten, and tho 
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 poor 
man's party and tho rich man's party,' and that ' Mr. Van Buren is the friend 
of the former.' The President is certainly in favor of strengthening the poor 
man's party, numerically ! He goes for impoverishing the whole country — 
except the office-holders." 

" What do the locofocos expect by vilifying the Log Cabin 1 Do they not 
know that a Log Cabin is all the better for being daubed with mud 1" 

" 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 your 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 suffice to show the frenzy of those who -wrote for it. A letter- 
writer at Utica, describing a ' mass meeting ' in that city, bursts 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, bewUdering enthusiasm. The hearts of 
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 ! The people in waves have poured in from the val- 
leys and rushed down from the mountains. The city has been vocal with elo- 
quence, with music, and with acclamations. 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 will 
not now attempt to describe tho procession, of the people. Suffice it to say that 



LOG CABIN SONGS. 185 

there was an ocean of thorn ! The procession was over five miles long. * 
* * Governor Seward and Lieut. Gov. Bradish were unanimously nomina- 
ted by resolution for re-election. The result was communicated to the people 
assembled in Mass in Chancery Square, whose response to the nomination was 
spontaneous, loud, deep and resounding." 

The 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 the Log-Oabin is a speech, delivered in the House of Kepre- 
sentatives by a member of the opposition, in which the bills of the 
])ersons who supplied the White House are given at length. Take 
these specimens : 

34 table knives ground, $l,37i 

2 new knife blades, 75 

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, Ii38 

6,50 

2 tin buckets, $2,00 

Milk strainer and skimmer . . 92^ 

Chamber bucket, 2,00 

2 dozen tart pans, 2,50 

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 
salary, not the public treasury. The speech exhibited some columns 
of these ' house-bills.' It made a great sensation, and was enough 
to cure any decer^ man of a desire to become a serrant of the 
people. 

But, as I have observed, Gen. Harrison was swiff into the presi- 
dential chair. The Log Cabin preserves a large number of the politi- 
cal ditties of the time ; the editor himself contributing two. A very 
fewstanzns will suffice to show the quality of the Tippecanoe poetry. 
Tlie following is one from the 'Wolverine's Song'; 



166 THE LOG CABIN. 

We know that Van Buren can ride in hii coach, 
With sen-ants, 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 1 Who was bolder to fight 
In his country's defence on that perilous night, 
AVhen naught save his valor sufficed to subdue 
Our foes at the battle of Tippecanoe 1 

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

From the song of the 'Buckeye Cabin,' these are two stanzas: 

Oh ! where, tell me where, was your Buckeye Cabin made 7 
Oh ! where, teU me where, was your Buckeye Cabin made 7 
'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 1 
We '11 wheel it to the Capitol and place it there elate, 
For a token and a sign of the bonnie Buckeye State. 

The ' Turn 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 of all the songs ever sung, the most absurd and the most tell- 
-ing, was that which began thus : 



LOa CABIN SONGS. • 187 

What has caused this great commotion-motion-motion 
Our country through 1 
It is the ball a-rolling 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. 

This song had two advan'-.ages. The tune — half chaunt, half 
jig — was adapted to bring out all the absuixlities of the words, and, 
in particular, those 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 : 

" The 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 1840. 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 share of the 
consequences of their bad measures. His whole soul was in this 
contest. He fought fairlj^ too. His answer to a correspondent, that 
- articles assailing the personal character of Mr. Van Buren or any 
of his supporters cannot be published in the Cabin,' was in advance 
of the politics of 1840. 

One scene, if it could be portrayed on the printed page as visibly 
as it exists, in the memories of those who witnessed it, Avould show, 



188 THE LOG CABIN. 

better than declaratory -words, Low dbsoi-bed 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 the ladies, who are 
gracious and hospitable. !Mj-. Greeley is expected to tea, but does 
not come, and the meal is transacted without him. Tea over, he 
arrives, and plunges headlong into a conversation on the currency. 
The lady of the house 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 indigestibles. 

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 another, 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. She 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. 
She removes the plate. No ill consequences follow. Those who 
saw this 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 pecuniary 
embarrassments. Such was not the fact He paid some debts. 



THE CAKE-BASKET. 189 

but he incurred others, and was not, for any "week, free from 
anxiety. The price of the paper was low, and its unlooked-for sale 
involved the proprietors in expenses which might 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 the certain triumph of the 
"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 the 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 those prom- 
ises have not been fulfilled. To those who owe us, therefore, we 
are compelled to say. Friends ! we need our money — our paper- 
maker needs it ! and has a right 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 what 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 expire 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 liis 
subscribers. This number announced, also, that the Log Cabin 
would be resumed in a few weeks. On the fifth of December the 
new series began, as a family political paper, and continued, with 
moderate success, till both it and the New Yorker were merged in 
the Tribune. 

For his services in the campaign — and no man contributed f« 
much to its success as he— Horace Greeley accepted no ofiice ; 
nor did he even witness the inauguration. This is not strange. 
But it is somewhat surprising that the incoming administration had 
not the decency to offer him something. Mr. Fry (W. H.) made a 
speech one evening at a political meeting in Pliiladelphia. The 



190 THE LOG CABIN. 

next morning, a committee waited upon him to know for what of- 
fice he intended to become an applicant. " Office ?" said the aston- 
ished composer—" No office." " Why, then," said the committee, 
" wliat the ti—ll did you speech 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 politician — a 
reputation which soon became more valuable to him than pecuniary 
capital. The Log Cabin of April 3d contained the intelhgence of 
General Harrison's death ; and, among a few others, the following 
advertisement : 

"new toek tribune.' 

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

" The Tribune, as its name imports, will labor to advance the interests of 
the People, and to promote their Moral, Social, and Political well-being. The 
immoral and degrading Police Pveports, Advertisements and other matter which 
have been allowed to disgrace the columns of our leading Penny Papers, will 
be carefully 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 called 'William 
Henry Harrison to the Chief Magistracy of the Nation was a triumph of 
Kight Reason and Public Good over Error and Sinister Ambition, the Tribune 
will give to the New Administration a frank and cordial, but manly and indo 
pendent support, judging it always by its acts, and commending those onl> 
so far as they shall seem calculated to subserve the great end of all govern 
ment — the welfare of the People. 

" The Tribune wUl be published every morning on a fair royal sheet- (size 
of the Log-Cabin and Evening Signal)— and transmitted to its city subscribers 
at the low price of one cent per copy. Mail subscribers, $4 per annum. It 
will contain the news by the morning's Southern Mail, which is contamed in no 
other Penny Paper. Subscriptions are respectfully solicited by 

Horace Gkeeley, 30 Ann St. 



CHAPTER XV. 

STAKTS THE TEIBUNE. 

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. , 

Who furnished the capital? Horace Greeley. But he was 
scarcely solvent on the 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. Horace 
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 icould pay his 
debts at any and at every sacrifice — one Avho 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, (Dudley S. Gregory,) 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 the present yeau, 1855, there are two hundred and three peri- 
odicals published in the city of New York, of which twelve are 
daily papers. In the year 1841, the number of periodicals was one 
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- 
cratic' side of politics, the former avowedly, the latter not. The 



192 STARTS THE TRIBUNE. 

Signal, Tatlcr, and Star were cheap papers, the first two neutral, the 
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 politics, did not exist. On the 10th of April, 1841, the Tribune 
appeared— a paper one-third the size of the present Tribune, price 
one cent; office No. 30 Ann-street; Horace Greeley, editor and 
proprietor, assisted in the department of literary criticism^ the fine 
arts, and general intelligence, by H. J. Kaymond. Under its head- 
ing, the new paper bore, as a motto, the dying words of Harrison : 

"I DESIRE YOU TO UNDERSTAND THE TRUE PRINCIPLES OF THE GOVERN- 
MENT. I WISH THEM CARRIED OUT. I ASK NOTDINO MORE." 

The omens were not propitious. The appallingly sudden deaith 
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 
Whig party. 

The editor watched the preparation of his first number all night, 
nervous and anxious, withdrawing this article and altering that, and 
never leaving the form till he saw it, complete and safe, upon the 
press. The morning dawned sullenly upon the town. " The sleety 
atmosphere," wrote Mr. Greeley, long after, " the leaden sky, tjie 
unseasonable wintriness, the general gloom of that stormy day, 
which witnessed 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 weekly com- 
pend of literature and intelligence, (The New Yorker,) wherefrom, 
though widely circulated and warmly praisecJ^ he had received no 
other return than the experience and wider acquaintance thence 
accruing, he entered upon his 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 political friends of aid to the extent of two thousand 
dollars, of which but one half was ever realized, (and that long. 



THE TRIBUNE APPEARS. 193 

Bince refJaid, but the sense of obligation to the far from wealthy 
friend who made the loan is none the less fresh and ardent,) he un- 
dej-took the enterprise — at all times and nnder any circumstances 
hazardous — of adding one more to the already amply e'^'tensive list 
of daily newspapers issued in this emporium, where the cuiTent. 
expenses of such papers, already appalling, were soon to be doubled 
by rivalry, by stimulated competition, by the progress u^' â–  ' 73, 
the complicatiuu of interests, and especially by the g,&}2fc;,. nati-ri'm 
of the electric telegraph, and where at. least jftVnetcen oat of every 
twenty attempts to establish a nev; -iaily have proved disastrous 
failures. Manifestly, the Pluspects of success, in this (Jase were far. 

The Tribune began with about six hundred subscribers, procured 
by tlie exerfious of a few of the editor's personal and political 
friends. Five thousand copies of the 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 were 
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 word 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 
crush the New York Tribune. The Tribune was, froin its incep- 
tion, very successful, and, in many instances, persons in the habit of 
taking the Sun, stopped that paper — wisely preferring a sheet whic?i 
gives twice the amount of reading, matter, and always contains 
the latest intelligence. This fact aff'orded sufficient evidence to 
Beach, as it did to all otherg who were cognizant of the circum- 
stances, that the Tribune would, before the lapse of many weekp, 
supplant the Sun. To prevent this, and,* if possible, to destroy the 

9 



194 STARTS THE TRIBUNE. 

circulation of the Tribune altogether, an attempt was made to bribe 
the carriers to give up their routes ; fortunately this succeeded only 
in the cases of two men Avho were likewise carriers of the Sun. 
In the next place, all the newsmen Avere 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 Beacli. He 
instigated boys in his office, or others, to whip the boys engaged 
in se?\' '^ ttis Tribune. No sooner was this fact ascertained at the 
office 01 the r'"ihune, than young men were sent to defend the 
sale of that paper. TLcj' tad not been on their station long, be- 
fore a boy from the Sun office ^oproached and began to flog the 
lad with the Tribune; retributory measurco" were instantly resorted 
to ; but, before a just chastisement was inflicted, Beach limiseu, 
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 
j'eason 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 ! New presses capable of printing 
the astounding number of thirty-five hundred copies an hour are 
duly announced. The indulgence of advertisers is besought ' 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 maU. " "We have a number of requests," 
said the 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 substantial 
® ames to its subscription list last week." Again : " The Sun is rush- 
^'-â– ' rapidly to destruction. It has lost even the grovelling sagacity, 
Ijroui ,i]gar sordid instinct with which avarice once gifted it." 
dollars, a Everything appears to work well with us. True, we 



\ 



CONSPIRACY TO PUT DOWN THE TRIBUNE. 195 

have not heard (except through the veracious Sun) from any gen- 
tlemen proposing to give us a $2,500 press ; but if any gentlemen 
Tiate such an intention, and proceed to put it in practice, the pub- 
lic may rest assured that they will not be ashamed of the act, while 
we shall be most eager to proclaim it and acknowledge the kind- 
ness. But even though we wait for such a token of good-will and 
sympathy until the Sun shall cease to be the slimy and venomous 
instrument of loco-focoism it is, Jesuitical and deadly in politics and 
grovelling in morals — we shall be abundantly sustained and cheered 
by the support we are regularly receiving." Editors wrote in the 
English language in those days. Again : " The Sun of yesterday 
gravely informed its readers that ' II is doubtful whether the Land 
Bill can pass the House.'' The Tribune of the same date contained 
the news of the imssacje 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 31st, the 
following notices appeared under the editorial head on the second 
page : 

The undersigned has great pleasure in announcing to his friends and the 
public that he hus formed a copartnership with Thomas McEleath, and 
that The Tribune will hereafter be published by himself and Mr. M. under 
the firm of GREELEY & McELRATH. 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 eflSciency and strength in a department where they 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. Horace 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 
extended to him by his fellow-citizens. Having heretofore received evidence 
of kindness and regard from the conductors of the Whig press of this city, 



196 STARTS THE TRIBUNE. 

and rejoicing in the friendship of most o? them, it will be his aim in his neif 
vocation to justify that kindness and strengthen and increaae those friendships. 
His hearty concurrence in the principles, Political and Moral, on which Thb 
Tribune has thus far been conducted, has been a principal incitement to the 
connection here announced ; and the statement of this fact will preclude the 
necessity of any special declaration of opinions. With gratitude for paat 
favors, and an anxious desire to merit a continuance of regard, he remains, 
The Public's humble servant, Thomas McElhath. 

A strict disciplinarian, a close calculator, a man of method and 
order, 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 Avould 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 the 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 I that every Greeley could find his McElrath ! and bless- 
ed is the McElrath thdt 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. The 
concern, thus consolidated, knew, thenceforth, nothing but prosper- 
ity. The New Yorker had existed seven years and a half; the 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. 197 

tare. Still more so, were his clear and able sketches and reports of 
public lectures. In November, the Tribune gave a fair and cour- 
teous report of the Millerite Convention. About the same time, Mr. 
Greeley himself reported the celel«'ated McCleod trial at Utica, 
sending on from four to nine columns a day. 

Amazing was the industry of the editors. Single numbers of the 
Tribune contained eighty editorial paragraphs. Mr. Greeley's aver- 
age day's work was three columns, equal to fifteen pages of foolscap ; 
and the mere writing which an editor does, is not half his daily 
labor. In May, appeared a series of articles on Eetrenchment and 
Eeform 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 the Theatre, as it actually exists among us, is 
in our judgment unwholesome, and therefore, while we do not pro- 
pose to war upon it, we 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 effront- 
ery to assert, in reply, that " most of the illegitimate births in New 
York owe their origin to acquaintances formed «,t 'Evening 
Churches,' and that ' Class-meetings ' have done more to peo'ple the 
House of Eefuge than twenty times the number of theatres." 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 asserting 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 with 
his opinions, we must tell him plainly that he is unreasonable. No 
other paper that we ever heard of establishes any test of the Or- 
thodoxy of works advertised in its columns ; even the Commercial 
Advertiser and Journal of Commerce advertise for the very sect 
proscribed by him. If one were to attempt a discrimination, where 
would he end ? One man considers Universalism immoral ; but 
another is equally positive that Arminianism is so ; while a third 
holds the same bad opinion of Calvinism. Who shall decide be- 
tween them ? Certainly not the Editor of a daily newspaper, un 



19S STARTS THE TRIBUNE. 

less he prints it avowedly under the patronage of a particular sect. 
Our friend inquires whether we should advertise inlidel books also, 
We answer, that if any one should offer an advertisement of lewd, 
ribald, indecent, blasphemous «r law-prohibited books, we should 
claim the right to reject it. But a work no otherwise objection- 
able than as controverting the Christian reeord and doctrine, would 
not be objected to by us. True Christianity neither fears refutation 
nor dreads discussion — or, as Jefferson has forcibly said, ' EiTor 
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 one of the last to yield. In September 
it justified Daniel Webster in retaining oflBce, 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 defence of Web- 
Bter 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 1845 a long explanation, of which the material passage was as 
follows: — "In December, 1841, I visited Washington upon asgur- 
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 ' con- 
nect myself with the cause of the Administration' the moment I 
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 so deeply wronged, bat was treacherously coqueting with Lo- 
co-Focoism, and fooled with the idea of a re-election." 

Against Pwepudiation, then an exciting topic, the Tribune went 



THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 199 

dead in many a telling article. In behalf of Protection to Ameri- 
can Industrj', the editor wrote columns upon columns. 

In a word, the Tribune was equal to its opportunity ; it lived 
Tip to its privileges. In every department it steadily and strikingly 
improved throughout the year. It began its second year with 
twelve thousand subscribers, and a daily average of thirteen col- 
umns of advertisements. The 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 Reader. This book 
was fore-ordained to be a small one. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

What made Horace Greeley a Socialist— The liard winter of 1838— Albert Brisbane— 
The subject broached— Series of articles by Mr. Brisbane begun — Th»ir effect — Cry 
of Mad Dog — Discussion between Horace Greeley and Henry J. Raymond — How it 
arose— Abstract of it in a conversational form. 

The 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, 



200 THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

fnel and food were dear, many thousands of men and women were 

out of employment, and there was general distress. As the cold 
months wore slowly on, the sufferings of the poor hecame 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. Some 
died of starvation. Some were frozen to death. Many, through 
exposure and privation, contracted fatal diseases. A large number, 
who had never before known want, were reduced to beg. Re- 
spectable mechanics were 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 comfortably 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 which 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 
slide. 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 sufficient to relieve 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 WoEK ! Charity their honest souls disdained. Its food choked 
them, its fire chilled them. "Work, give us work ! was their eager, 
passionate demand. 

All this Horace Greeley heard and saw. He was a young man — 
not quite twenty-six — compassionate to weakness, generous to a 
fault. He had known what it was to beg for work, from shop to 
shop, from town to town ; and, that very winter, he was struggling 
with debt, at no safe distance from bankruptcy. Why must these 
things be ? Are they inevitable ? "Will they always be inevitable ? 
Is it in human wisdom to devise a remedy? in human virtue to ap- 
ply it ? Can the beneficent God have designed this, who, with such 
wonderful profusion, has provided for the wants, tastes, and luxuries 



ALBERT BRISBANE. 201 

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 heai'd and believed it. He took it to his heart. It became 
a part of him. 

Albert Brisbane was a young gentleman of liberal education, the 
son of wealthy parents. 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 Future, 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 feUow men what 
he believed it became them to know. He made a few converts, 
but only a few, tiU the starting of the Tribune gave him access to 
the public ear. 

Horace "Greeley made no secret of his conversion to Fourierism. 
On 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 effected, a revolution which would require 
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 no ice of one of 
Mr. Brisbane's lectures : 

9* 



^2 THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

" Mr. A. Brisbane delivered a lecture at the Stuy vesant Institute last evening 
Upon the Genius of Christianity considered in its bearing on the Social Insti- 
tutions and Terrestrial Destiny of the Human Race. IIo 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 
world of Want, Misery, Temptation and Crime. This, Mr. B. believes, will be 
effected by a system of Association, or the binding up of indiridual 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 of Fourier, of whom he is a zealous dis- 
ciple, and we shall then endeavor to give a more clear and full account of his 
doctrines." 

A montli later, the Tribune copied a flippant and sneering arti- 
cle from the London Times, on the subject of Fourierism 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 whieh 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 moans 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. Some 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. It; ..oimack, and others in English. A tri-weekly journal (' La 
Phalange') devoted to the system, is published by M. Victor Considerant in 



SERIES OF ARTICLES BY MR. BRISBANE BEGUN. 203 

Paris, and another (the 'London Phalanx') by Hugh Doherty, in Loudon, 
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 ttjis end, they purchased the 
right to occupy one column daily on the first page of the Tribune 
with an article, or articles, on the subject, 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 atti'acted 
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. Gi-ad- 
ually, Eourierism 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 eftect upon the People. * 

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

" The Doctrine of Association is spreading throughout the country with * 
rapidity which we did not anticipate, and of M'hioh we had but little hope. 
We 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 spealc of the subject 
as one ' which is calling public attention,' or, ' about which so much is now 
said,' or, 'which is a good deal spoken of in (his part of the country,' &c., 
showing that our Principles are becoming a topic of public discussion. From 
the rapid progress of our Doctrines during the past year, we loolc 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 
large number of paper.?, and quite a number of lecturers in various part,^ of 



204 THE TRIBL'NE AND KOURIERISM. 

tho country, who are lending their efforts to the cause, so that the onward 
movement nmst 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, Ac, and pr»par- 
ing for the reception of other members. 

" An Association has been organized in Jefferson county. Our friend, A. 
M. Watson, is at the head of it ; he 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 lands. â–  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 Watertown, near 
which the Association is located. 

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

About the saine 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 tho New York Express, Eochester Evening Post, and sundry 
other Journals which appear inclined to wage a personal controversy 
with u^respecting Fourierism, (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 puddiug' 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- 
ark as choose to hear them on the subject of 'Association' at 7j 



DISCUSSION BETWEEN H. GREELEY AND H. J. RAYMOND. 205 

o'clock this 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- 
ism — the many attempts made to establish Associations — the failure 
of all of them but one, which still exists — the ruin that ensued to 
< many worthy men — the ridicule with which the Associationists 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 H. 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. Horace 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 the public all it loants 
to Mow, and whose comments on passing events best express the 
feeling of the country with regard to them. Mr. Raymond is 
not a manof 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 diflicult. But 
he has the right notion of editing a datly paper, and when the Tri- 
bune lost him, it lost more than it had the slightest idea of— as 
events have since shown. 

However, Horace Greeley and Henry J. Raymond, the one nat- 
urally libera], the other naturally conservative — the one a Universal- 
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 wav. The discussion of Fourierism arose thus ; 



206 THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

Mr. Brisbane, on his return from Europe, renewed the agitation 
of his subject. Tiie 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 Reform. The Courier replied. The Tribune re- 
joined editorially, and was answered in turn by the Courier. Mr. 
Brisbane addressed a second letter to the Courier, and sent it 
direct to the editor of that paper in manuscript. The Courier 
agreed 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 Avith the spirit 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 published twelve articles 
on its own side, an.d twelve on the other, which shall fulfil the 
terms of this agreement. All the twelve articles of each part}' 
shall be published without abridgment or variation in the Dail}', 
Weekly, and Semi-weekly editions of both papers. Afterward each 
party will, of course, be at liberty to comment at pleasure in his 
own columns. In order that neither paper shall be crowded with 
this discussion, one article per week, only, on either 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. Come on! and, on the 20th of 
"tfovember, the 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- 
sisted, were afterwards published by the Harpers in a pamphlet of 
eighty-three closely-printed, double-columned pages, which had a 
considerable sale, and has long been out of print. On one side 



ABSTRACT OF THE DISCUSSION. 207 

we see earnestness and sincerity ; on the other tact and skill. 
One strove to convince, the other to triumph. The 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 
mankind, let them confer in awful whispers — apart, lik5^ conspir- 
ators ; not distract themselves in dispute in the hearing of a nation ; 
for they who would benefit mankind must do it either 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 Gi^eeley. Nov. 20iA. The earth, the 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 /aci 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 
have no legal right to pluck and eat the bitterest acorn in the depths 
of the remotest forest. But tlie 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, which 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 ! 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-Hall bell. 
Here is an enormous waste and loss. We must devise a remedy 
and that remedy, I propose to show, is found in Association. 



208 THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

H. J. Raymond. Nov. 23(Z. Heavens I Here we have one of the 
leading Whig presses of New York advocating the doctrine that no 
man can rightfully own land ! Fanny Wright was of that opinion. 
The doctrine is erroneous and dangerous. If a man cannot right- 
fully own land, he cannot rightfully own anything which 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 they could not exist, is threatened with destruction, and by 
a leading Whig paper too. Conservative Powers, preserve us ! 

Horace Greeley. Nov. 2Gth. 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 ; G, 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- 
serve 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. 

H. J. Eaymond. Nov. 30<A. A home, fair Avages, education, etc., 
are 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 of 



ABSTRACT OF THE DISCUSSION. 209 

its eflScacy. Tell us in whom the property is to he vested, how- 
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 
oftences are to be excluded or punished. Then we may be able to 
discuss the subject. jSTothing was stipulated iibout 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 who contributed the capital to establish it, repre- 
sented 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 
fixed, proportion of their products, of 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, 
Avill find labor not less attractive than profitable. Moral ofiences 
will be punished by legal enactment, and they will be rendered un- 
frequent by plenty and education. . » 

n. J. Raymond. Dec. 8th. Oh — th.en 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) owns Jive tJiousand acres of land, which he leases forever 
to two thousand poor men at the yearly rent of onefourth of Us 
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. lOth. By no means. The capital of a 
mature association would be, perhaps, half a million of dollars ; it 



210 THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

an infant assoc ation, fifty thousand dollars ; and this increase of 
value would be both created and oicned by Labor. In an ordinary 
township, however, the increase, though all created by Labor, is 
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 tliis is the fact in recently-settled 
townships, is undeniable. That it vrould not be the fact in a town- 
ship settled and cultivated on the principle of association, seems to 
me equally so. 

H. J. Raymond. Dec 14:th. 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. "With 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 years, 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 ? 
I^one, that we can see. On the contrary, the more i-apidly the 
domain of an association should increase in value, the more diflBcult 
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 ! The 
skiUful 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 Crreeley. Dee. 16th. 'So, Sir! In association, those who 



ABSTRACT OF THE DISCUSSIOX. 211 

fttrnisli the original capital are the owners merely of so much stock 
in the concern — not of all the land and other property, as you repre- 
sent. Suppose that capital to be 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 stock 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. 



H. J. Raymond. Dec. lUh. Of course; — but association as- 
sumes to shape and govern the details of social life., which is a very 
difierent afiair. One 'â–  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 gardening 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 efiiciency of each laborer, and settle the comparative value 
of his work? There is the religious difiiculty too, and the educa- 
tional difficulty, the medical difficulty, and numberless other diffi- 
culties, arising from differences of opinion, so radical and so earnest- 
ly entertained as to preclude the possibility of a large number of 



212 THE TRIBUNE AND FOL'RIERISM. 

persons living together in the intimate relation contemplated by 
association. 

Horace Crreeley. Bee. 28?A. l^ot so fast. After the first steam- 
sliip had crossed the Atlantic all the demonstrations of the impos- 
sibility of that fact fell to the ground. Now, with regard to as 
sociations, tTxe first sleamsTiip has crossed/ The communities of 
Zoar and Rapp 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 difficulties 
alluded 1o, 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 harmonj', 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 thousands 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 suffering. 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 effect 
a just distribution of products among capital, talent and labor. 

H. J. Eayrnond. 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 members., seems to us fatal to the whole theory 
of association. It implies that individual reform must precede so- 



ABSTRACT OF THE DISCUSSION, 213 

cial reform, which is precisely our position. But how is individual 
reform to be effected ? By association^ says the Tribune. That is, 
the motion of the water-wheel is to produce the water by 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. IStJi. Incorrigible mis-stater of my posi- 
tions ! I am as well aware as you are that the mass of the igno- 
rant and destitute are, at present, incapable of so much as under- 
standing the social order I propose, much less of becoming efficient 
members of an association. What I say is, let those who are capa- 
ble of understanding and promoting it, begin the work, found' asso- 
ciations, and show the rest of mankind how to live and thrive in 
harmonious industry. You tell me that the sole efficient agency of 
Social Reform is Christianity. I answer that association is Chris- 
tianity ; and the dislocation noio existing between capital and labor, 
between the capitalist and the laborer, is as atheistic as it is in- 
human. 

ff. J. Eaymond. Jan. 20th. Stop a moment. The test of true 
benevolence is practice, not preaching ; and we have no hesitation 
in saying that the members of any one of our city churches do 
more every year for the practical relief of poverty and suffering 
than any phalans-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, than any ' association ' that ever was 
formed. 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 
theorizing 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 dishonesty and indolence of individuals, and they 
would do the same under any system, and especially in association. 



214 THE TRIBUNE AND FOURIERISM. 

'Horace Greeley. Jan. 20tJi. Private benevolence is good and 
necessary ; tlie Tribune has ever been its cordial and earnest ad- 
vocate. But benevolence relieves only the effects of poverty, while 
Association proposes to reach and finally eradicate its causes. The 
charitable are doing nobly this -winter forthe relief of the destitute ; 
but â– will there be in this city next winter fewer objects of charity 
than there are now ? And let me tell you, sir, if yon 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. 

M. J. Raymond. Feb. \(Mi. 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. I7t7i. 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 unem- 
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 workmen and the 
work apart. Four centuries ago, the English laborer could ea/n 
by his labor a good and sufficient subsistence for his 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. His 
bread is coarse, his clothing scanty, his home a hovel, his childrer 
uninstructed, his life cheerless. He lives from hand to mouth in 
abject terror of the poor-house, where, he shudders to think, he 



ABSTRACT OF THE D1S0US6ION. 215 

must end his days. Precisely the same causes are ia operation 
here, and, in due time, will produce precisely the same effects. 
There is need of a Social Re-formation ! 

H. J. Raymond. Mareli 3tZ. You are mistaken. The state- 
ment that the laborers of the present day are worse off than 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 which 
the most constant and zealous efforts ought to be made ; yet fiiey 
are very far from being as great or as general as the Associationists 
assert. The fact is indisputable, that, as a rule throughout the 
country, no honest man, able and wiUing to work, need stand idle 
from lack of opportunity. The exceptions to this rule are com- 
paratively few, and arise |^om 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 : duty and pleas- 
ure will have the same meaning ; without inconvenience or calcu- 
lation, man will follow Ms lent: hearing only of Attraction, he will 
never act from necessity, and never curl himself ly restraints.'''' 
"What becomes of the self-denial so expressly, so frequently, so em- 
phatically enjoined by the New Testament ? Fourierism and Chris- 
tianity, Fourierism and Morality, Fourierism and Conjugal Constancy 
are in palpable hostility ! We are told, that if a man has a passion 
for a dozen kinds of Avork, 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 
his full gratification ! For man will follow his lent^ and never curb 
himself by restraints ! 

Horace Greeley . MarcWWi. Not so. I re-assert what I before 
proved, that the English laborers of to-day are worse off than those 
of former 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 gratification of criminal passions or 



216 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 forth Disorder — so long as Inclination may he in opposition 
to Duty — we reprobate as strongly as any class of men all indulg- 
ence of the inclinations and feelings ; and where 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- 
tion of crimes, or the practice of vices. 

H. J. Raymond. March l^tli. Perhaps not. But 1 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 fi'ee 
and full gratification of the passions a crime^ Socialism extols it as 
a virtue. 

Horace G-reeley. March 26 f^. Impertinent. Your 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 
does not secure ; and hence the necessity of a new and better organ- 
ization. So no more of your ' Passional Attraction.' 

H. J. Raymond. April 16th. I tell you the scheme of Fourier is 
essentially and fundamentally irreligious ! by which I mean that it 
does not follow my Catechism, and apparently ignores the Thirty- 
Nine Articles. Shocking. 

Horace Greeley., April 28</<. Humph ! 

H. J. Raymond. May 20th. The Tribune is doing a great deal of 
harm. The editor does not know it — but it is. 

Thus ended Fourierism. Thenceforth, the Tribune alluded to the 



THE TRIBUNE'S SECOND YEAR. 217 

subject occasionalJy, but only in reply to those who sought to make 
political or personal capital by reviving it. By its discussion of the 
subject it rendered a great service to the country : first, by afford 
ing one more proof that, for the ills that flesh is heir to, there is, 
there can be, uo panacea ; secondly, by exhibiting the economy of 
association, and familiarizing the public mind with the idea of asso- 
ciation — an idea susceptible of a thousand applications, and capable, 
in a thousand ways, of alleviating and preventing human woes. 
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 XVII. 

THE TEIBUNE'S second YEAR. 

Increase of price— The Tribune offends the Sixth Ward fighting-men — The office threat- 
ened — Novel preparations for defense — Charles Uiclceus 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- 
creased price of nine cents a week, or two cents for a single num- 
oer, and effected tliis serious advance Avithout losing two hundred 
of its twelve thousand subscribers. At'the same time, Messrs. Gree- 
ley and McElrath started the 'American Laborer,' a monthly maga- 
zine, 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 mightier than the sword," claptraps Buhver 
in one of his playr> ; and the Pen was the only fighting implement 



218 THE tribune's second year. 

referred to. It came to pas?, liowcver, in the first month 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 oflice was, in consequence, threatened by the offended parties 
â– with a nocturnal visit, and the oflSce, alive to the duty of hospital- 
ity, prepared to give the expected guests a suitable reception by 
arming itself to the chimneys. 

This (I believe) was one of the paragraphs deemed most ofteu- 
sive : 

"It orpears that some of the 'Spartan Band,' headed by Michael "Walsh, 
after a fight in the 4th District of the Sixth Ward, paraded up Centre street, 
opposite the Halls of Justice, to the neighborhood of the poll of the 3d Dis- 
trict, where, after marching and counter-marching, the leader Walsh re-com- 
menced the work of violence by knooliing 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 thou 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 
them, had they not been hurried into the Police Office and prison as a place of 
refuge. In this encounter, or the one that preceded it, a man named Ford, 
and said to be one of the ' Spartans,' was carried into the Police Office beaten 
almost to death, and was subsequently transferred to the Hospital." 

On the morning of the day on whicli this appeared, two gentle- 
men, more muscular than civil, called at tlie ofiice to say, that the 
Tribune's account of the riot was incorrect, and did injustice to 



THE OFFICE THREATENED. 219 

Jndividuals, w]io expected to see a retraction on the 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 the muscular 
gentlemen. One of them seized a clerk by \he shoulder, and re- 
quested to be informed whether he was the offspring of a female 
dog who had put tJiat into the paper, pointing to the offensive arti- 
cle. The clerk protested his innocence ; and t