-v 
RECOLLECT.ONS OF A BUSY LIFE:
INCLUDING
REMINISCENCES OF AMERICAN POLITICS
AND POLITICIANS,
FROM THE OPENING OF THE MISSOURI CONTEST TO THE
DOWNFALL OF SLAVERY;
TO WHICH ARE ADDED
MISCELLANIES:
"LITERATURE AS A VOCATION," "POETS AND POETRY," "REFORMS AND
REFORMERS," A DEFENCE OF PROTECTION, ETC., ETC.
ALSO,
A DISCUSSION WITH ROBERT DALE OWEN OF
THE LAW OF DIVORCE.
BY HORACE GREELEY.
NEW YORK:
J. B. FORD & CO.,- PRINTING-HOUSE SQUARE.
BOSTON: H. A. BROWN & CO. CHICAGO: J. A. STODDARD & CO.
SAN FRANCISCO: FRANCIS DEWING & CO.
CINCINNATI: C. F. VENT & CO.
1869.
t —;
.. 
, j
~.
*,
I I 
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1868, by
HORACE GREELEY,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of
New York.
UNIVERSITY PRESS: WELCH, BIGELOW, & Co.,
CAMBRIDGE.
;4i 
0
:.: I... 
TO
OUR AMERICAN BOYS,
WHO,
BORN IN POVERTY, CRADLED IN OBSCURITY, AND EARLY CALLED
FROM SCHOOL TO RUGGED LABORS
ARE SEEKIENG
TO CONVERT OBSTACLE INTO OPPORTUNITY, AND WREST
ACHIEVEMENT FROM DIFFICULTY,
Ebese 3ecotlecttons
ARE REGARDFULLY INSCRIBED BY
THEIR AUTHOR. 
'i
i; -,,           i
, I -/ I Y- I
i-I
-— I 
PUBLISHERS' CIRCULAR.
HE book herewith presented to the public is a collection
of the series of articles originally published by MR.
GREELEY in the New York Ledger, bearing, as now, the accurately descriptive title, "RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE."
Revised, and in part rewritten, by the author, and enriched
by the addition of much original matter, it is believed that
these autobiographical reminiscences will be, not only entertaining and attractive to tihe casual reader, but of permanlent value to all students of the times we live in. They
form a record of the inner life and inspiration of one who
has actively shared in the many strange intellectual and
political phases through which America has gone during
the past thirty years of intense vitality.   MR. GREELEY
himself gives the best indication of their nature: "' I shall
never write anything else into which I shall put so much of
myself, my experiences, notions, convictions, and modes of
thought, as these Recollections.   I give, with small reserve,
my mental history."
Whatever view may be taken of HORACE GREELEY'S opinions and teachings, all will concede that he has been, and
is, a man of untiring industry, of strong convictions, of continual and immense intellectual activity, and of wide-spread
influence.   Laboring in the metropolis of the country, lihe
has there planted and nurtured with his own life a journal
whose political and social ideas have been powerful in
i 
PUBLISHERS' CIRCULAR.
affecting the public mind beyond any other one agency;
and he himself, intimately associated as he has been with
all the great men and great events of the time, is a singularly interesting character.  The mental history of such a
man, and the varied reminiscences of his life and experience, cannot fail to attract the attention and excite the
interest of all who take any pains to understand the history
of the day; while the practical hints to young men, and
the familiar chat about political, literary, agricultural, social, and personal topics contained in the book, must make
it welcome to the general reader.
Of the illustrations, the views of MR. GREELEY'S various
homes, &c., it is only necessary to say that they have been
engraved from tihe most authentic sources, -generally photographs. The fine portrait of Mr. GREELEY is engraved on
steel by AIR. J. ROGERs, and that of the accomplished and
lamented MARGARET FULLER is from the artistic hand of
MR. W. J. LINTON, whose personal remembrance of that
gifted lady has been aided by an excellent portrait. In
every way, the publishers have endeavored to make  the
book one attainable and desirable by all, and feel sure that
it will prove its own best commendation.
viii 
APOLOGY.
HESE Recollections owe their existence wholly to an
impulse external to their author, who, of his own
choice, writes on many topics, himself not included. When,
years ago, he was introduced to Mir. James Parton, and apprised that he had been chosen, by that gentleman, as the
subject of a biographic volume, he said that every person
whose career was in some sense public was a fair subject
for public comment and criticism, but that he could not
furnish materials for, nor in any wise make himself a party
to, the undertaking.  As it had never occurred to him that
he should have time and inclination to write concerning
himself, he had never saved even a scrap with reference to
such contingency; and he has chosen not to avail himself
of Mr. Parton's labors, in order that the following chapters
should, so far as possible, justify their title of Recollections.
Mr. Robert Bonner is justly entitled to the credit (or otherwise) of having called these Recollections into tangible (even
though fleeting) existence. He had previously invited me
to write for his Ledger, and had paid me liberally for so
doing; but our engagement and intimacy had long ceased,
when, on the occasion of the hubbub incited by my bailing
of Jefferson Davis, he reopened a long-suspended  correspondence, and once more urged me to write for his columns;
suggesting a series of autobiographic reminiscences, which 
APOLOGY.
I at first flatly declined to furnish. On mature reflection,
however, I perceived that he had proffered me opportunity
to commend to many thousands, of mainly young persons,
convictions which are a part of my being, and conceptions
of public events and interests which might never so fairly
invoke their attention if I repelled this opportunity; and
that, therefore, I ought not to reject it. Hence, I soon recalled my hasty negative, apprised him that I would accept
his offer, and immediately commenced writing, as I could
snatch time from other pressing duties, the Recollections
herewith printed. That they are less personal and more
political than Mr. Bonner would have wished them, I was
early aware; yet he allowed all but two of them to appear,
and to have the post of honor in successive issues of his
excellent and widely circulated periodical. I have added
somewhat, however, to nearly half of them, in revising them
for publication in this shape; but the reader who may note
the discrepancy will be so just as to attribute it to the
proper source. In a single instance only, was I requested
by Mr. Bonner to change an expression in one of the numbers he published; and therein he was clearly right, as I
instantly conceded.
The papers which I have chosen to add to my PRecollections, in giving them this permanent form, embody my
views oni certain topics which I was not able to present
so fully in my contributions to The Ledger, yet which I
hoped would reward the attention of most readers. That in
which Protection is explained and commended was printed
as it was hurriedly written more than twenty-five years
ago; I present it now, without the change of a sentence,
as a statement of views contemptuously rejected by most
writers on Political Economy in our day, who never really
X 
APOLOGY.
gave them consideration or thought. That they deserve a
different and more respectful treatment, I profoundly believe: the public must judge between me and their contemners.
I hope to be spared to write hereafter a fuller and more
systematic exposition of Political Economy from the Protectionist stand-point; and I do not expect henceforth to write
or print any other work whatever.  If, then, my friends will
accept the essays which conclude this volume as a part of
my mental biography, I respectfully proffer this book as my
account of all of myself that is worth their consideration;
and I will cherish the hope that some portion, at least, of
its contents embody lessons of persistency and patience
which will not have been set forth in vain.
The controversy with Mr. Robert Dale Owen respecting
Marriage and Divorce, which is printed at the end of the
volume, was wholly unpremeditated on my part, yet I had
so clearly, though unintentionally, provoked Mr. Owen's first
letter, that I could not refuse to print it; and I could not
suffer it to appear without a reply. My strictures incited a
response; and so the discussion. ran on, till each had said
what seemed to him pertinent on a subject of wide and enduring interest.   Before my  last letter was printed,  Mr.
Owen, presuming that I had closed, had prepared those already in print for issue in a pamphlet, which accordingly
appeared. The whole first appear together in this volume;
and I trust it will be found that their interest has not exhaled during the eight years that have elapsed since they
were written.
H. G.
NEW  YORE,  Septemnber 1, 1868.  
C O NTENT S.
L. A SAMPLE OF THE SCOTCH-IRISH.....
II. OUR FOLKS AT LONDONDERRY.....
III.. THE TIMES THAT TRIED MEN'S SOULS"..
IV. RURAL NEW ENGLAND FIFTY YEARS AGO.
V. MY EARLY SCHOOL-DAYS......
VI. ADIEU TO NEW HAMPSHIRE.....
VII. WESTHAVEN...........
VIII. MY APPRENTICESHIP.........
IX. MY FAITH............
X. A YEAR BY LAKE ERIE.......
XI. MY FIRST EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK..
XII. GETTING INTO BUSINESS.......
XIII. TEMPERANCE IN ALL THINGS.....
XIV. POLITICS............
XV.  PLAY-DAYS............
XVI. TRIUMPH............
XVII. LoG-CABIN DAYS.........
XVIII. THE TRIBUNE..........
~..   64
~ ~    61
Y
...   68
..  1 75
~..    83
~.      91
....  98,
XIX. SOCIALISM........... 144
XX. SOCIALISTIC EFFORTS...........   151
XXI. HARRY CLAY..............159
XXII. MARGARET FULLER...............   169
XXIIL. BEGGARS AND BORROWERS........                  192
PAGE
. 17
23
. 29
84
. 41
48
... 106
1
... 114
... 122 -
... 129
... 136
I/ 
CONTENTS.
DRAMATIC MEMORIES............
" OLD ZACK"...............
CONGRESS. - MILEAGE............
CONGRESS AS IT WAS............
GLAMOUR...........
LAKE SUPERIOR. - MINING. -CHICAGO. -THE PRAIRIES 
THE GREAT SENATORS. - THE COMPROMISE OF 1850         2
LIBELS AND LIBEL-SUITS........
EUROPE. - THE WORLD'S EXPOSITION.......
THE DISSOLUTION OF THE WHIG PARTY.......
THE SLAVERY CONTROVERSY.......
THE NEW ERA IN POLITICS.......
MY FARM................
MY FARMING.........
I" SEWARD, WEED, AND GREELEY".....
EUROPE REVISITED. -PARIS. -SWITZERLAND                2
TWO DAYS IN JAIL.........
"THE BANKS CONGRESS."- THE LONG CONTEST FOR SPEAKER
FREMONT. - BUCHANAN. - DOUGLAS.....
A RIDE ACROSS THE PLAINS.......
THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. - THE GREAT BASIN.
UTAH. -NEVADA.........
THE SIERRA NEVADA.- THE YOSEMITE.- THE BIG TREES
THE FUTURE OF CALIFORNIA.......
THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF 1860.....
SECESSION, - How CONFRONTED......
OUR CIVIL WAR, - ACTUAL AND POSSIBLE.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.............
JEFFERSON DAVIS.............
AUTHORSHIP. -WRITING HISTORY.......     e
MY DEAD...............        e
xiv
XXIV.
XXV.
YIXVI.
XXVII.
XXVIU.
XXIX.
xxx.
49- xxxi.
xxxii.
X-XXIH.
xxxiv.
XXXV.
XX-XVI.
XXXVII.
XXXVIII.
.XXXIX.
XL.
XLI.
XLIII.
XLIH.
XLIV.
XLV.
XLVI.
XLVII.
YILVIII.
xilix.
L.
LI.
LTI.
LIV.
200
207
216'
225
234
242
250
260
268
276
281 V
289
295
302
311
323
332
845
353
360
368
i
374
379
384
389
396
400
404
410
417
42r) 
CONTENTS.
MISCELLANIES.
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION....
POETS AND POETRY......
REFORMS AND REFORMERS....
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION....
SUNDRY LECTURING REMINISCENCES.
A DAY'S RIDE IN MAINE....
A RIDE ACROSS THE ALLEGHANIES.
A NIGHT-RIDE ACROSS THE PRAIRIES.
A WINTER FLOOD IN ILLINOIS..
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE: A DISCUSSION BETWEEN HORACE GREELEY
AND ROBERT DALE OWEN......... 571
ANALYTICAL INDEX..
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PORTRAIT OF HORACE GREELEY..
FAC-SIMILE OF MR. GREELEY'S WRITING.
"THE COT WHERE I WAS BORN".
MY FIRST SCHOOLHOUSE...
MARGARET FULLER....
MY EVERGREEN HEDGE...
MY HOUSE IN THE WOODS.,
MY PRESENT HOME...
MY BARN........
xv
.. 433
460
.. 497
528
554
. 557
660
. 566
7,
-i
;.I
. 619
4
" i
..I
I
I-1
-1
Frontispiece.
.. 16
..    37
.. 42
.. 173
.. 300
..   305
.. 306
...308
-1
1 
LETTER FROM MR. GREELEY.
NEW YORK TRIBUNE,
NEW YORK, June 1, 1868.
GENTLEMEN:
I wrote my Recollections because Mr. Bonner urged and paid
me to do so, and because I hoped thus to make clear to many
of our younger generation several points in our country's internal
history which have been widely misunderstood.. Trusting that
these unpretending papers may be found to embody some lessons
of industry, integrity, self-reliance, truth, and hope, I commit
them to you as the substance of a volume which I dedicate and
commend to the portionless youth of this Republic.
Yours,
HORACE GREELEY.
MESSRS. J. B. FORD & Co.,
104 Nassau Street, City.
I'=,
i-,
4
I,.
i..
fl,
0 
0
ttbuitt.
/%< 
.
C> d
-  y
6 ,t*
___
*  Wt
<6
4*
II
-i
I
i
i 
-4
-4
0 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
I.
A SAMPLE OF THE SCOTCH-IRISI.
LSTER,-  the most northern of the four provinces into
which Ireland is pretty equally divided,- being separated but by a strait from the western coast of Scotland, was
doubtless the recipient of emigration thence from time immemorial; but, after the suppression, by Queen Elizabeth, of a
bloody insurrection of the Celts under Hugh O'Neil against
English domination, a large area of the soil previously held
by the insurgents was confiscated; and "The Plantation of
Ulster," with some English, but more Scotch emigrants, was
effected under James I. More Celtic insurrections naturally
followed; that of 1641 being marked as especially murderous;
40,000 of the Protestant settlers in Ulster having been speedily massacred, with small regard to age or sex. Eight years
later, Cromwell, heading his terrible "Ironsides," swept resistlessly over Ulster not only, but all Ireland, crushing out her
resistance, and leaving in his track but blood, ashes, and
ruins; actually subjugating the entire island, for the first
time, to British power, and confiscating four fifths of its soil.
Forty years of such peace as subjugation can make was
suddenly broken by the expulsion of James II. from the
throne of England, mainly because of his Romanism, while
Papal Ireland still clung to his falling throne, and resisted the
accession of Dutch William and his wife Mary, daughter of
James.  Ulster, in so far as she was  Scotch-English and
Protestant, hailed with rapture the new rule; while Catholic
Ireland clung to James; who, having fled to France, landed
2
4 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
thence at Kinsale, and was received with open arms.  The
Protestants of Ulster, unaccountably left to themselves, had
already been nearly overrun by the French and Irish soldiers
of James, who was eager to pass over to Scotland and recruit
his forces from the Highlanders of that kingdom, who were 
already enrolled, under the banners of Grahame of Claverhouse,
and eagerly awaiting their monarch's appearance.  Londonderry (originally Derry, but re-named on being re-peopled, as
above recited, under the patronage of a London company) for
months stood up almost alone against the overwhelming forces
of James, ably led by Richard Hamilton, and finally by Conrad de Rosen. A poorly walled town of perhaps a thousand
houses, garrisoned by a few drilled soldiers, and three or four
thousand armed citizens, partly fugitives driven in from the
surrounding country, who, wretchedly armed, and most scantily
provided with ammunition, commanded for weeks by artraitor
(Colonel Lundy), who did all he dared to betray them to their
enemies, nevertheless defied the most desperate efforts of their
besiegers, with the still more terrible assaults of famine; and
even their cowardly desertion by General Kirke, who was
sent from England to relieve them with 5,000 men and a
supply of provisions, but who recoiled with all his fleet without even seriously attempting to succor the famishing, heroic
city. Yet the sorely disappointed and distressed Protestants,
so far from despairing, resolved, five days afterward, that no 
man, on penalty of death, should propose a surrender, and
fought on, eating horses, dogs, cats, rats, salted hides and
tallow, while scores died of absolute starvation, until not two
days' subsistence remained, or only nine lean horses in all,
and one pint of. meal per man, when, on the 28th of July,
1690, a frigate and two transports ran up the Foyle past the
enemy's batteries, and, sadly peppered and cut up, anchored
at the quay,-  the transports laden with provisions.
Of 7,500 men enrolled for the defence at the outset, but 4,300
survived; and one fourth of these were disabled.  That night
James's army raised the siege, in which they had lost more
than 8,000 men; and the signal defeat of their monarch by
.18 
A SAMPLE OF THE SCOTCH-IRISH.
his son-in-law in the battle of the Boyne, a few days before,
was speedily followed by the utter overthrow and expulsion
of the former. Londonderry had saved the kingdom, and
enabled William to fight the decisive battle under auspices
far more favorable than if James had been allowed to cross
into Scotland, and add the Highland clans and their great
leader to the army wherewith he struggled for his crown.
A quarter of a century had elapsed.  William and Mary
were dead; so was their sister and successor, Anne; George I.
had been called from Hanover to the throne; when a new
migration was meditated and resolved on by a goodly conmpany
of the "Scotch-Irish" of Londonderry and its neighborhood
They were rigid Presbyterians, of the school of Knox; the
faith and observances of their Celtic neighbors were exceedingly repugnant to them, and those of the Protestant Epicscopal Church by law established, little less so. Acts of Uniformity and other prelatical devices bore hardly upon them;
they resolved to seek homes where they would enjoy absolute
religious. freedom. Sending out to New England a young
Mr. Holmes to examine and inquire, they were incited by his
report to take the decisive step; and a considerable portion
of four Presbyterian societies (one of them that of Holmes's
father), resolved to cross the Atlantic. Early in 1718 they despatched PRev. William Boyd with an address to Governor Shute,
of Massachusetts, signed by 217 of their number, of whom
210 attached their names in fair, legible chirography; nine of
them being clergymen.  The Governor's response was such that
the colony, on receiving it, took passage on five small vessels,
landing at Boston, August 4, 1718. Months were now wasted
in seeking, in different lands, a location, -the ensuing Winter
being passed with-great privation and suffering by twenty families of these explorers, near Falmouth, now Portland, Maine,
where they were saved from starving by a donation of one
hundred bushels of Indian meal from the Massachusetts General Court.
But Spring at length opened.  The colonists, returning from
Casco Bay, dissatisfied with their experience in that quarter,
19~ 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
entered the mouth of the Merrimac, and ascended it to Haverhill; where they heard of an inviting tract of wilderness,
known as Nutfield, from the abundance of its indigenous
chestnut, butternut, and hickory trees. Leaving their families
at Haverhill, the men visited this tract, some fifteen miles
northward; and, having found it worth their taking, they
located thereon their grant from Governor Shute of any twelve
miles square of unoccupied land which they should select
within the boundaries of his colony,- to find, ultimately, that
their Canaan was not in Massachusetts, but New Hampshire,
and their grant, consequently, of no use. As many, if not
most of them, including nearly all their leaders, had borne
part in the defence of the Protestant stronghold of their native
land, they, in memory thereof, discarded the name of Nutfield,
and were, in 1722, incorporated under that of LONDONDERRY.
Having hastily erected a few huts of logs, the pioneers
returned to Haverhill for their families; the day of whose
arrival- April 11 (old style), 1719- is regarded as that on
which their settlement was founded. RPev. James McGregor,
their chosen pastor, preached (from Isa. xxxii. 2) next day,
under a great oak, the first sermon ever listened to in that
locality. When he had left to seek his family in Dracut, but
sixteen sturdy pioneers and their families remained; and
these, for mutual defence against Indians, were located but
thirty rods apart, facing a brook; each lot being a mile in
depth, or sixty acres in area. But two stone houses of refuge,
in case of attack, were soon built, affording some security
against savage incursions; and the town was finally laid off
into lots, each sixty rods wide on the road it fronted, and a
mile deep, making each allotment one hundred and twenty
acres. Such were the dimensions of the tract on "the High
Range," allotted, in 1721, to my mother's grandfather, John
Woodburn, and which was by his industry transformed into
the farm whereon she was born, and which is to day the
property of her youngest and only surviving brother, John,*
* Since this was first printed he has deceased, aged 72; but the farm descends to his numerous children.
20 
A SAMPLE OF THE SCOTCH-IRISH.
now about 70 years old. The first framed house, wherein she
was born, was superseded, about 1800, by that wherein she
was married, and whence I first went to school, which is now
the family homestead. No price was ever paid for the Wood burn farm, nor has a deed of it ever been given.
Though the infant settlement of Londonderry was rapidly
augmented, not only by the flocking thither of the original
colonists (whose sixteen families in April had thus been
swelled to seventy by September), but by continuous acces sions of relatives and friends from the old country, yet brave
men long ploughed and sowed with a loaded gun standing as
handy as might be, and with a sharp eye on the adjacent
woods; and they never went to "meeting" on Sunday with out carrying their trusty weapon, first seeing that it was in
good order.  Nay, their spiritual teacher and guide for months
regularly entered his pulpit musket in hand, and, having
cocked it and carefully scrutinized the priming, sat it down
in one corner, and devoutly addressed himself to the everliving Gbd.  His influence with the Marquis de Vaudreuil,
then French Governor of Canada, who had been his classmate
at college, and with whom he still maintained a friendly correspondence, was supposed to have averted from his charge the
savage attacks by which so many frontier towns were desolated.
Mr. McGregor died in 1729, and was succeeded by Rev.
Matthew Clark, a patriarch who now came out from Ireland
on purpose, and whose memory deserves a paragraph. lHe
never ate flesh, but said nothing on the subject; and his abstinence was regarded as an idle whimin, until one day when my
great-grandmother (his niece, as I remember), then a young girl
and an inmate of his house, saw the pot wherein the family
dinner was cooking boil over into the smaller vessel wherein
was boiling his frugal mess of greens.  Supposing this of no
consequence, she said nothing until - the family being seated
at the table, and its head having said grace and taken his
first mouthful -he was observed to fall back insensible and
apparently dying. Recovering his consciousness after a few
moments, he calmed the general excitement by saying, "Itf is
21 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
nothing - a trifle- I shall be well directly- only a little of
the water from your meat has boiled over into my greens."
He had been a lieutenant in the famous Siege, wherein he
was wounded in the temple by a ball, which injured a bone
so that it never healed; and, though a devoted evangelist,
could never forget that he had been a soldier.  Once, while
acting as Moderator of an assembled Presbytery, the music of
a marching company was heard, when  his attention. was
wholly absorbed by it. Being repeatedly called to give heed
to the grave business in hand, his steady reply was, " Nae
business while I hear thie roll of the drum." When death
came to him at seventy-six years of age, and after forty years
of blameless ministry, he said to sympathizing friends, "I
have a last request which must not be denied."  "What is it,
Father Clark?"  "Let me be borne to my rest by my brother
soldiers in the Siege, and let them fire a parting volley over
'my grave!" The military parade was conceded; but, according to my mother's tradition, the volley, though promised, was
withheld; it being deemed indecorous and unsuitable that so
holy a man should be indulged in a dying freak so unbecoming his cloth.
22 
II.
OUR FOLKS AT LONDONDERRY.
THIE current notion that the Puritans were a sour, morose,
ascetic people - objecting, as Macaulay says, to bear baiting, not that it gave pain to the bear, but that it gave
pleasure to the spectator - is not justified by my recollections,
nor by the traditions handed down through my mother. The
pioneers of Londonderry were so thoroughly Puritan that,
while their original framed and well-built meeting-house was
finished and occupied in the third year of the settlement,
when there were none other but log huts in the township,
nearly a century elapsed before any other than a Presbyterian
or Orthodox Congregational sermon was preached therein, and
nobody that was anybody adhered to any rival church, down
to a period within the memory of persons still living. "The
Westminster Shorter Catechism"- a rather tough digest of
Calvinistic theology, which aroused my infantile wonder as
to what a dreadful bore its longer counterpart must be- was,
within my experience, regularly administered to us youngsters once a week, as a portion of our common-school regimen;
and we were required to affirm that "God having, out of his
mere good pleasure, from all eternity, elected some to everlasting life," &c., &c., as though it were next of kin to the
proposition that two and two make four. If there was anywhere a community strictly, thoroughly Puritan, such was
Londonderry down to at least 1800, as she mainly is to-day.
And yet there was more humor, more play, more fun, more
merriment, in that Puritan community, than can be found
anywhere in this anxious, plodding age. All were measurably 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
poor, yet seldom were any hungry; all wore coarse clothes,
made in utter contempt of the fashions which, in the course
of three or four years, had made their way from Paris to
Boston; yet lads and lasses were as comely in each other's
eyes, though clad in coarse homespun, as if they had been arrayed in purple and fine linen, and redolent of lavender and
patchouli: and they danced with each other through long
winter nights with a vigor and zest rarely evinced at Almack's
or in Fifth Avenue mansions. Their weddings were far more
numerously attended and more expensive than are the average
in our day; for not to be invited was an affront, as it implied
discredit or insignificance; and all who were invited expected
to eat and drink bountifully of the best that could be had.
A general discharge of musketry throughout the neighborhood ushered in a wedding-day; and the bridegroom's party,
starting from his house, was met by the bride's at a point halfway to hers, when one of each party was chosen to "run for
the bottle" to the bride's house; and whichever won the race
returned with the prize to the wvaiting assembly; which,
having drunk all around, proceeded, under a dropping fire of
musketry, to their destination; where- the ceremony having
been duly performed - drinking was resumed, and continued,
with alternate feasting and dancing, often till broad daylight.
Nor was this the worst. Our ancestors had somehow caught
from their Celtic neighbors, in the old country, despite their
general antipathy, the infection of "wakes "; and the house
in which lay a corpse awaiting burial was often filled through
the night with sympathizing friends, who, after due religious
observances, proceeded to drown their sorrow in the strong
drink supplied in abundance, whereby strange transformations
were sometimes wrought from plaintive grief to exuberant,
and even boisterous, hilarity.  Funerals were attended by
nearly every one who seasonably heard of them, and all would
have felt insulted if not asked to drink at least twice; while
those who walked to the grave were entitled by usage to a
third glass, and at least a lunch, on their return. As none
were yet rich, while many were quite poor on their arrival,
24 
OUR FOLKS AT LONDONDERRY.
many families were absolutely impoverished by the expense
imposed on them by the funeral of a deceased member; while,
if a wedding and a funeral occurred within a few months in
a household, it could hardly escape ruin. Happily, living in
frugal plenty, almost wholly on their own products, spending
much of their time in vigorous exercise in the open air, and
having but one doctor within call, they had great tenacity of
life; so that funerals were few and far between.
The pioneers of Londonderry brought with them the Potato,
which, despite its American origin, was hardly known in New
England till they introduced it from Ireland, where it had
already taken root and flourished. Some of them, having
spent their first winter in America in a neighboring settlement of Massachusetts, planted there a few of the valued
tubers, which were duly tended by those to whom they were
left; but, the plants being matured, they gathered the seedballs from the stalks and tried to cook them into edibility;
but by no boiling, baking, or roasting could they render them
palatable; and they gave it up that those Scotch-Irish had
unaccountable tastes.
Next Spring, however, when the garden was duly ploughed,
the large, fair "murphies" were rolled out in generous abundance, and, being dubiously tasted, were pronounced quite
endurable. Like too many ignorant people, these novices in
potato-eating had begun at the wrong end. They could never
have made this mistake in Londonderry; yet it is related that
the first pound of tea ever seen there was received as a present
from a Boston friend, and, being duly boiled as a vegetable,
and served up as "greens," was unanimously pronounced detestable, and pitched out of doors.
Flaxseed was brought from Ireland by the pioneers; and
the growth of flax and production of linen early became important elements of the industry and trade of Londonderry,
though every operation, from the sowing of the seed to the
bleaching of the cloth, was effected by the simplest manual
labor; and I can personally testify that "breaking flax," in
the bad, old way, is the most execrably hard work to which a
25 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
young boy can be set. A skilful, resolute man could hardly
make laborer's wages at it now, if the raw material were given
him. When the matrons of the town had a neighborhood
gathering,- tea, like coffee, being then happily unknown, -
each took her "little wheel" under her arm to the house
whereto she had been invited, and the flow of conversation
and gossip ran on for hours to a constant "whir, whir" of
swiftly flying wheels.  Whitney's Cotton Gin and Arkwright's
Spinning Jenny have long since dismissed those wheels to
the moles and the bats; but, so late as 1819, my mother spun
and wove a goodly roll of linen from the flax grown on our
farm, bleaching it to adequate whiteness by spreading it on
the aftermath of a meadow, and watering it thrice per day
from a sprinkling-pot.
Poor folks have their vanities as well as the rich. Most of
the pioneers had been small farmers or artificers "at home";
and the rude log huts, which were at first inevitable, seemed to
many good wives to involve a sacrifice, not only of comfort, but
of social standing. Hence it is related of the Morrisons, who
were among the first settlers, that the good dame remonstrated
against the contemplated homestead until assured that there
was no help for it, when she acquiescingly entreated: "A-weel,
a-weel, dear John, if it mniaun (must) be a log-house, make it a
log heegher nor the lave" (a log higher that the rest).
The settlers knew that their homespun garments (often of
tow) contrasted strongly with the trim, dapper apparel of the
polished denizens of more refined communities; but they
were not thereby disconcerted. Though Burns had not yet
strung his immortal lyre, his spirit so flooded their log-cabins
that he would have been welcomed and understood in any of
them, but would have excited surprise in none. Thus it is
related of the Rev. Matthew Clark, already mentioned, that,
among the audience in attendance on his ministrations was
once a young British military officer, whose scarlet uniform
far outshone any rival habiliments, and so fixed the gaze of
the young damsels present, that the wearer, enjoying the impression he was making, not only stood through the prayer
26 
OUR FOLKS AT LONDONDERRY.
with the rest, but remained standing after all others had sat
down, until the pastor had proceeded for some time with his
sermon. At length, noticing a divided attention and its cause,
the minister stopped, laid aside his sermon, and, addressing his
new hearer, said: "Ye're a braw (brave) lad; ye ha'e a braw
suit of claithes, and we ha'e a' seen them; ye may sit doun."
The lieutenant dropped as if shot, and the sermon was resumed and concluded as though it had not been interrupted.
Rev. E. L. Parker's "History of Londonderry," to which I am
indebted for many facts, gives the following specimen of Mr.
Clark's pulpit efforts. His theme was Peter's assurance that,
though all others should forsake his Divine Master, he never
would; and this was a part of his commentary:  "Just like Peter - aye mair forrit (forward) than wise;
ganging swaggering aboot wi' a sword at his side; an' a puir
han' he mad' o' it when he cam' to the trial; for he only cut
off a chiel's lug (ear); an' he ought to ha' split doun his
head."
This was a gleam of.the spirit evoked in the Siege of
Derry.
I fear I have nowise portrayed the perfect mingling of
humor and piety in the prevalent type of our Scotch-Irish
pioneers,- all of them baptized in infancy, and growing up
devoted members of the church,- all hearing the Bible read,
a hymn sung and a prayer offered, each morning at the family
fireside, and these exercises repeated at night, so uniformly,
that one of the early pastors, having learned that a parishioner
had retired without invoking the throne of grace, forthwith
repaired to. his dwelling, called up the delinquent and his
family, made them kneel and renew their devotions, and did
not leave till they were finished; and yet there was never a
people who loved play better, or gave it more attention, than
these. House-raisings, corn-huskings, and all manner of excuLses for festive merry-making, were frequent, and generally
improved; games requiring strength, rather than skill, especially wrestling (with, I grieve to say, some boxing), were
favorite pastimes; and it is recorded of the pioneers of Peter
27' 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
borough, N. I.,- one of the several swarms sent out by the
parent hive in Londonderry,- that, having cut each his hole
in the great woods, and reared his log-cabin, a meeting was
called to form a church, and generally attended. The object
having been duly set forth, some one started the cavil: "I
fear we are such a rough set - so given to frolic and drinkthat we are not good enough to constitute a church"; but he
was instantly silenced by another, who, like a true Calvinist,
observed: "Mr. Moderator, if it be the Lord's will that He
should have a church in Peterborough, I am sure He will be
willing to have it made up of such materials as there are."
So it was.
The present township of Londonderry embraces but a fraction of the original town, whose 144 square miles have been
sliced away to form the several townships of Derry, Windham, and parts of others, until it now probably contains less
than forty square miles. Though a railroad now crosses it, and
acc'ords it a station, it has no considerable village, no lawyer
(I believe); its people nearly all live by farming, and own
the land they cultivate; three fourths of them were born
where they live, and there expect to die. Some families of
English lineage have gradually taken root among them; but
they are still mainly of the original Scotch-Irish stock, and
even Celtic or German "help" is scarcely known to them.
Simple, moral, diligent, God-fearing, the vices of modern civilization have scarcely penetrated their quiet homes; and,
while those who with pride trace their origin to the old settlement are numbered by thousands, and scattered all over
our broad land, I doubt whether the present population of
Londonderry exceeds in number that which tilled her fields,
and hunted through her woods, fifty to sixty years ago.
28 
III.
"TlHE TIMES -THAT TRIED MEN'S SOULS."
THE Scotch-Irish founders of our Londonderry indignantly
eschewed the characterization of "Irish," which was
sometimes maliciously, but oftener ignorantly, applied to
them; stoutly insisting that, as stanch Protestants and
zealous upholders of the Hanoverian succession, they should
not be confounded with the savage and intractable Celtic
Papists who were indigenous to Ireland. Devoted loyalty
was their pride and boast, and was usefully evinced in the
"Old French War," which lasted from 1756 to 1763, and
effected a transfer of the Canadas from France to Great Britain;
yet the British assumption, directly thereafter, of a right to
impose taxes on the Colonies, without their consent, was here
early, promptly, zealously, persistently resisted; and the tidings that Colonial blood had been shed by British soldiers at
Lexington, Mass., on the 19th of April, 1775, operated like
an electric shock on this rural, peace-loving community.
Ten minutes after receiving it, JOHN STARK - who had served
with distinction in the recent French war - stopped the sawmill in which he was at work, mounted his horse, and rode off
to Cambridge, leaving directions for his neighbors to muster
and follow. The two companies of Londonderry militia were
immediately assembled, and, though many had already hastened to the scene of action, a full company -the best blood
of the township -volunteered, choosing GEORGE REED their
captain. Six days after the Lexington fray, the two thousand
New Hampshire men now confronting General Gage were
organized by the convention sitting at Exeter into two regi 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
ments, with Stark and Reed as their respective colonels.
Another regiment from this thinly peopled colony was soon
formed, under Colonel Poor; but the left wing of our army,
stationed near Medford, was composed of the two regiments
commanded by Londonderry colonels; and these, under Stark
and Reed, were soon deputed to join the Connecticut men
under Putnam, and a Massachusetts regiment under Prescott,
in throwing up and holding the breastwork on Bunker's or
Breed's Hill, in Charlestown, which the British assailed next
day with such memorable consequences. Londonderry had
130 men behind those slight defences. In the struggle for
this position, the New Hampshire men lost 19 killed and 74
wounded.
The three New Hampshire regiments were detached from
Washington's army to swell that which, in 1776, was organized in this State, under General Sullivan, for the conquest of
Canada; but which, having invaded that Province, by way of
the Hudson and Lake Champlain, found itself outnumbered
and compelled to retreat to Ticonderoga, losing a third of its
number by sickness, privation, and exposure. Rejoining General Washington, Stark's regiment was conspicuous in the
brilliant affair at Trenton, where it had the advance, and participated in the succeeding actions at Princeton and at Springfield, N.J.
In the list of promotions made by Congress next Spring,
Stark's name did not appear; whereupon, he promptly and
indignantly resigned. But, on the alarm of Burgoyne's invasion from Canada, soon afterward, a fresh appeal to the patriotism of the people was made by the General Assembly of
New Hampshire; when Londonderry raised another company
of seventy men, besides contributing liberally to existing
organizations. In fact, there was nearly a levy en masse of
the able-bodied men of this State and the debatable lands
now known as Vermont. Stark was asked to take command
of the new militia, and did so; stipulating only that he
should not be subordinate to any other commander. Hence, he
refused to obey General Schuyler's order to advance to and
30 
"THE TIAIES THAT TRIED MEN'S SOULS."
cross the Hudson, giving excellent reasons therefor; but, remaining within the territory his mei were called out to protect, he fought and won - Aug. 26, 1777 - the brilliant battle
of Bennington, routing and killing Colonel Baum, the Hessian
commander, and takiing five hundred prisoners.  His speech
to his troops, on the brink of engaging, ran substantially thus:
"Boys, you see them Hessians.  King George gave ~4 7s. 6d.
apiece for'em.  I reckon we are worth more, and will prove it
directly.  If not, Molly Stark sleeps a widow to-night!"  There
have been more elegant and far longer speeches; but this
went as straight to its mark as a bullet.
The danger to his State having thus been averted, Stark
hastened to join General Gates on the Hudson, was in the
council which fixed the terms of Burgoyne's surrender, and
was soon thereafter restored to position in the Continental
line,- Congress making reparation for its oversight by publicly thanking him for his victory at Bennington, and appointing him a Brigadier-General in the regular service. He
remained in the army till the close of the war, and lived
forty years thereafter,- dying May 8, 1822, in his ninetyfourth year.
Colonel Reed, though not awarded his rank in the Continental line, also served through the war, -  taking part in the
battles of Long Island, White Plains, Trenton, Saratoga, Stillwater, Brandywine, Germantown, and in Sullivan's Indian
expedition. Having at length risen to a Continental colonelcy,
he was in command at Albany in 1782, when he was favored
with several letters from Washington, of whose military and
political character he was evermore a passionate admirer.
Having left his family in haste, on the tidings of the first
shot, hlie paid it but two or three hurried visits in midwinter
till honorably mustered out of service after the close of the
war, in the Summer of 1783. Meantime his wife, Mary, sister
of my grandfather Woodburn, was the ruler of his household,.
the manager of his farm and business, and the sharer in full
measure of his fervid, unwearying patriotism. He lived to
fill several public stations, including those of Brigadier-Gen
31 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
emral and Sheriff of his county; dying in 1815, aged eighty-two
years. His wife survived him; dying in 1823, at the ripe
age of eighty-eight.
Never was a war more essentially popular than that waged
in support of American Independence, and never were the
issues involved more thoroughly debated or more clearly
understood by a people. Congress having, early in 1776,
requested the authorities of each township to ascertain and
to disarm all persons "who are notoriously disaffected to the
cause of America," the selectmen of Londonderry reported the
names of 374 adult males in that town who had severally
signed the following pledge:  "We, the subscribers, do hereby solemnly engage and promise
that we will, to the utmost of our power, at the risk of our lives
and fortunes, with arms, oppose the hostile proceedings of the
British fleets and armies against the United American Colonies."
Of course, those who had already enlisted, and were then
absent in the Continental service, should be added to the
above list, raising it nearly to five hundred; while barely fifteen
men  in that entire community refused to sign.   Several
Tories," however, had already left, finding the place too hot
for them: among them, Major Robert Rogers, of the "' Pangers," raised in 1756, who had served with distinction throughout the French war; but who now, taking the wrong side, was
proscribed, and fled to England, where he died.   Colonel
Stephen Holland, who had been one of the most eminent and
popular citizens, and had held several important public trusts,
after concealing and denying his Toryism so long as he could,
finally proclaimed it by fleeing to General Gage at Boston;
whereupon his property was confiscated. Nowhere was Toryism more execrated; and the suggestion in the Treaty of
Paris that the Loyalists should be permitted to return to the
communities they had, to serve the king, deserted, was unanimously scouted and defied in full town meeting.
Dr. Matthew'Thornton, whose name heads the list of signers
to the pledge aforesaid, soon afterward affixed his signature to
the immortal Declaration of American Independence. He
32 
"THE TIMES THAT TRIED MEN'S SOULS."
was born in Ireland in 1714, but brought over when but
three years old; early commenced the practice of medicine in
Londonderry, and steadily rose to esteem and competence.
HIe was a surgeon of the New Hampshire forces in the expedition against Cape Breton, in 1745, and was a colonel of
militia at the breaking out of the Revolution.  He was President of the first Provincial Convention assembled in New
Hampshire after the retirement of the royal Governor Wentworth, and was chosen by it a delegate to Congress, in which
he did not take his seat till November, 1776, when -though
it was.the darkest hour of the struggle- he at once signed the
Declaration. After peace was restored, though no lawyer, he
was chosen a judge of the Superior Court, and afterward
Chief-Justice of the Common Pleas. He died in 1803, aged
eighty-nine.
From first to last, Londonderry furnished 347 soldiers to
the Revolutionary armies, while her whole number of adult
males cannot, as we have seen, have much exceeded 500.
Some of these served but for short terms; yet, after making
every deduction, this record, from a purely rural township,
whose youth had for forty years been constantly drawn away
to pioneer new settlements, not only in different parts of
New Hampshire, but in Londonderry and Windham, Vermont,
Truro, Nova Scotia, Cherry Valley, N. Y., &c., &c., is one
which her children have a right to regard with affectionate
pride. And not only were town bounties- liberal, considering
the value of money in those days -paid to her volunteers, but
their families were shielded from want by the provident care
of her authorities and people. Food was scarce and dear;
clothing was scarcer and dearer; but those who fought their
country's battles were consoled by the thought that, whatever
might befall them, their wives and little ones should not
famish or freeze while bread or cloth remained. And, when
independence and peace were at length achieved, it was a
proud reflection that they had been won by the constancy and
devotion, not of a class or a portion, but of the entire people.
3
33 
IV.
RURAL NEW ENGLAND FIFTY YEARS AGO.
HREE  brothers named Greeley (spelled five different
ways) migrated to America in 1640.  One settled in
Maine, where he has many living descendants; another in
Rhode Island, where he soon died; a third in Salisbury, Mass.,
near the south line of New Hampshire, into which his descendants soon migrated, if he did not. One large family
of them hail from Gilmanton; another, to whom I am less
remotely related, from Wilton; my own great-grandfather
(named Zaccheus, as was his son my grandfather, and his son
my father) lived in or on the verge of Londonderry, in what
was in my youth Nottingham-West, and is now Hudson,
across the Merrimac from Nashua (which was then Dunstable
or nothing). I never heard of a Woodburn of our stock who
was not a farmer; but the Greeleys of our clan, while mainly
farmers, are in part blacksmiths. Some of them have in this
century engaged in trade, and are presumed to have acquired
considerable property; but these are not of the tribe of Zaccheus.
My grandfather Greeley was a most excellent, though never
a thrifty citizen. Kind, mild, easy-going, honest, and unambitious, he married young, and reared a family of thirteen,nine sons and four daughters,- of whom he who died youngest
was thirty years old; while a majority lived to be seventy,
and three are yet living, - at least two of them having seen
more than eighty summers.
So many children in the house of a poor and by no means
driving farmer, in an age when food and cloth cost twice the 
RURAL NEW ENGLAND FIFTY YEARS AGO.
labor they now do, made economy rather a necessity than a
virtue; but I presume none of those children ever suffered
protractedly from hunger, while all of them obtained such
education as was afforded by the common schools of sixty to
eighty years ago; or, if not, the fault was their own. Still,
the school-houses were ruder and rarer, the teachers less competent, and the terms much shorter, than now; while attendance was quite irregular, being suspended on slight pretexts;
so that I have heard my father say that his winter's schooling
after he came of age- when for three months he hired his
board, attended constantly, and studied diligently- was worth
more to him than all that preceded it.
My grandfather owned and worked small farms successively
in Hudson, Pelham, Nottingham, and Londonderry, and was
living in the latter town for a second or third time when, on
the death of his wife, when he was about seventy-five years
old, he sold out, and went to spend his remaining days with
his son Gilbert, living in Manchester; but, that son dying
before him, he found a home thenceforth in Londonderry,
with his older son John, whose farm all but joins that of the
Woodburns in "the High Range,"- the respective houses
being but a hundred rods apart,- and here, in his fulness of
days, he died,' aged ninety-four. (My grandfather Woodburn
had died at eighty-five, nearly thirty years before.) A devoted, consistent, life-long Christian,- originally of the Baptist, but ultimately of the Methodist persuasion,- exemplary
in deportment and blameless in life, I do not believe that my
grandfather Greeley ever made an enemy; and, while he
never held an office, and his property was probably at no time
worth $ 2,000, and generally ranged'from $1,000 to zero, I
think few men were ever more sincerely and generally esteemed than he by those who knew him.
My father- married at twenty-five to Mary Woodburn,
aged nineteen - went first to live with his father, whose farm
he was to work, and inherit, supporting the old folks and
their still numerous minor children; but he soon tired of this,
and seceded; migrating to and purchasing the farm whereon
six of his seven children were born.
35 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
The old road to Amherst from the Merrimac, at what in
my childhood was Amoskeag Falls, crossed by a rickety
old bridge, with but two or three houses in sight, and is now
the manufacturing city of Manchester, with twenty-five thousand inhabitants, passes through the little village of Piscataquoag, near the mouth of the creek of like name; thence
through the township and village of Bedford, ad, zigzagging
over the gentler hills, descends, when about five miles from
"Amherst Plain," or village, and just on the verge of the
township, into the deep valley of a brook, not yet quite large
enough for a mill-stream. (The road now travelled is far
smoother and better, and passes a mile or two southward of
the old one.)  The" Stewart farm," of some forty acres (enlarged by my father to fifty), covers the hillside and meadow
north of the road, with a few acres south of it, and lies partly
in Bedford, but mainly in Amherst. The soil is a gravelly
loam, generally strong, but hard and rocky; grass, heavy at
first, "binds out" the third or fourth year, when the land
mnust be broken up, manured, tilled, and seeded down again;
and a breaking-up team, in my early boyhood, was made up
of four yoke of oxen and a horse, whereby an acre per day
was seldom ploughed. Across the brook were two or three
little knolls, of an acre or so each, in good part composed of
water-worn pebbles, - the dberis of I know not what antediluvian commotion and collision of glaciers and marine currents,-  which, when  duly fertilized and tilled, produced
freely of corn or potatoes; but which, being laid down to
grass, utterly refused to respond, deeming itself better adapted
to the growth of sorrel, milk-weed, or mullein. The potato
yielded more bounteously then than it does now, and was
freely grown to be fed into pork; but I reckon that Indian
corn cost treble, if not quadruple, the labor per bushel that
our Western friends now give for it; while wheat yielded
meagrely and was a very uncertain crop. Rye and oats did
much better, and were favorite crops to "seed down," upon;
"rye and Indian " were the bases of the farmer's staff of life;
and, when well made, no bread is more palatable or whole
36 
RURAL NEW ENGLAND FIFTY YEARS AGO.
some.   The hop culture was then common in our section;
and, though fearfully hazardous,- there being no yield one
year and no price the next,- was reckoned inviting and pro
ductive. My father estimated hops at ten cents per pound
as profitable a crop as corn at one dollar per bushel.
My father bought and removed to this farm early in 1808;
"The cot where I was born."
here his first two children died; here I was born (February
3, 1811), and my only surviving brother on the 12th of June,
1812. The house — a modest, framned, unpainted structure
of one story - was then quite new; it was only modified
in our time by filling up and making narrower the old-fashioned kitchen fireplace, which, having already devoured all
the wood on the farm, yawned ravenously for more. This
dwelling faces the road from the north on a bench, or narrow
plateau, about two thirds down the hill; the orchard of natural
fruit covers two or three acres of the hillside northeast of the
house, with the patch of garden and a small frog-pond between.
37 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
It seemed to me that sweeter and more spicy apples grew in
that neglected orchard than can now be bought in market;
and it is not a mere notion that most fruits attain their highest
and best flavor at or near the coldest latitude in which they
can be grown at all. That orchard was not young fifty years
ago; and, having been kept constantly in pasture, never tilled
nor enriched, and rarely pruned, must be nearly run out by
this time.
Being the older son of a poor and hard-working farmer,
struggling to pay off the debt he had incurred in buying his
high-priced farm, and to support his increasing family, I was
early made acquainted with labor. I well remember the cold
summer (1816) when we rose on the eighth of June to find
the earth covered with a good inch of newly fallen snow,when there was frost every month, and corn did not fill till
October. Plants grew very slowly that season, while burrowing insects fed and fattened on them.  My task for a time
was to precede my father as he hoed his corn, dig open the
Htills, and kill the wire-worms and grubs that were anticipating
our dubious harvest.  To "ride horse to plough" soon became
my more usual vocation; the horse preceding and guiding the
oxen, save when furrowing for or tilling the planted crops.
Occasionally, the plough would strike a fast stone, and bring up
the team all standing, pitching me over the horse's head, and
landing me three to five feet in front. In the frosty autumn
mornings, the working teams had to be "baited" on the rowen
or aftermath of thick, sweet grass beside the luxuriant corn
(maize); and I was called out at sunrise to watch and keep
them out of the corn while the men ate their breakfast before
yoking up and going afield. My bare feet imbibed a prejudice
against that line of dutyi but such premature rising induced
sleepiness; so, if my feet had not ached, the oxen would have
had a better chance for corn.
Burning charcoal in the woods south and southwest of us
was a favorite, though very slow, method of earning money in
those days. The growing wood, having then no commercial
value, could usually be had for nothing; but the labor of
38 
RURAL NEW ENGLAND FIFTY YEARS AGO.  39
cutting it down and reducing it to the proper length, piling it
skilfully, covering the heap with soas, or with straw and earth,
and then expelling every element but the carbon.by smothered
combustion, is rugged and tedious. I have known a pit of
green wood to be nine days in burning; and every pit must
be watched night and day till the process is complete. Nightwatching by a pit has a fascination for green boys, who have
hitherto slept soundly and regularly through the dark hours;
but a little of it usually suffices. To sit or lie in a rude foresthut of boards or logs, located three or four rods from the pit,
with a good fire burning between, and an open, flaring front
looking across the fire at the pit, is a pleasant novelty of a
mild, quiet evening; and many a jovial story has been told,
many a pleasant game of cards, fox-and-geese, or checkers
played, and (I fear) some watermelons lawlessly purveyed from
neighboring fields and gardens by night-watching charcoalburners.   But the taste for turning out, looking for and
stopping the holes that are frequently burnt through the
covering of the pit, is easily sated; while a strong wind that
drives the smoke of fire and pit into the open mouth of your
shanty, and threatens to set fire to the straw flooring on which
you recline, is soon regarded as a positive nuisance, especially
if accompanied by a pelting storm. In a wild night, your pit
breaks out far oftener than in calm weather; requiring constant attention and effort to keep it from burning up altogether;
thus consuming the fruits of weeks of arduous toil. And,
after a week of coal-burning, you find it hard to return to
regular sleep, but hastily wake every hour or so, and instinctively jump up to see how the pit is going on.
Picking stones is a never-ending labor on one of those rocly
New England farms. Pick as closely as you may, the next
ploughing turns up a fresh eruption of boulders and pebbles,
from the size of a hickory-nut to that of a tea-kettle; and, as
this work is mainly to be done in March or April, when the
earth is saturated with ice-cold water, if not also whitened
with falling snow, youngsters soon learn to regard it with detestation. I filially love the "Granite State," but could well
excuse the absence of sundry subdivisions of her granite. 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
"Hlop-picking" was the rural carnival- the festive harvesthome - of those old times; answering to the vintage of southern France or Italy. The hop matures about the first of September, when the vines are cut near the ground, the poles
pulled up and laid successively across forked sticks lengthwise
of a large bin, into which busy fingers from either side rapidly
strip the hops- each pole, when stripped, being laid aside and
replaced by another. The bin having been filled, the hops are
drawn to the kiln, wherein they are cured by exposure for
hours to a constant, drying heat from a charcoal fire below;
after which, they are pressed, like cotton, into bales so compact and dense as to defy easy disintegration. The pickers are
mainly young women- the daughters of neighboring farmers
— and the older children of both sexes; while the handling
of the poles demands masculine strength and energy; the
work is pushed with ardor, often by rival groups employed at
different bins, racing to see which will first have its bin full.
The evenings are devoted to social companionship and rustic
mnerry-making; friends drop in to enjoy and increase.the
festivity; and, if hop-picking is not now an agreeable labor,
despite the sore eyes sometimes caught from it, then rural life
in hop-growing districts has lost what was one of its pleasantest features half a century ago.
40
0 
V.
MY EARLY SCIOOL-DAYS.
Y mother, having lost her mother when but five years
old, was, for the next few years, the especial protdgde
and favorite of her aged grandmother, already mentioned,
who had migrated from Ireland when but fourteen years
old, and whose store of Scottish and Scotch-Irish traditions,
songs, anecdotes, shreds of history, &c., can have rarely been
equalled.  These she imparted freely to her eager, receptive
granddaughter, who was a glad, easy learner, whose schooling
was better than that of most farmers' daughters in her day,
and who naturally became a most omnivorous and retentive
reader. There were many, doubtless, whose literary acquisitions were more accurate and more profound than hers;
but few can have been better qualified to interest or to stimulate the unfolding mind in its earliest stages of development.
I was for years a feeble, sickly child, often under medical
treatment, and unable to watch, through a closed window, the
falling of rain, without incurring an instant and violent
attack of illness. Having suddenly lost her two former children, just before my birth, my mother was led to regard me
even more fondly and tenderly than she otherwise might
have done; hence, I was her companion and confidant about
as early as I could talk; and her abundant store of ballads,
stories, anecdotes, and traditions was daily poured into my
willing ears. I learned to read at her knee, -of course,
longer ago than I can remember; but I can faintly recollect
her sitting spinning at her "little wheel," with the book in 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
her lap whence I was taking my daily lesson; and thus I
soon acquired the facility of reading from a book sidewise or
upside down as readily as in the usual fashion, -a knack
which I did not at first suppose peculiar; but which, being at
length observed, became a subject of neighborhood wonder
and fabulous exaggeration.
Two months before I had attained the age of three years,
I was taken home by my grandfather Woodburn to spend a
few weeks with him, and sent to school from his house,- the
My  First School-House.
school-house of his district being but fifty rods from his door;
whereas, our proper school-house in Amherst was two miles,
and the nearest school-house (in Bedford) over a mile, from
my father's. Hence, I lived at my grandfather's, and went
thence to school, most of each Winter and some months in
Summer during the next three years.
My first schoolmaster was David Woodburn Dickey, a
nephew of my grandfather, a college graduate, and an able,
42 
MY EARLY SCHOOLDAYS.
worthy man, though rather a severe than a successful governor of youth. The district was large; there were ninety
names on its roll of pupils, - many of them of full-grown
men and women, not well broken to obedience and docility,
- with an average attendance of perhaps sixty; all to be
instructed in various studies, as well as ruled, by a single
teacher, who did his very best, which included a liberal application of birch and ferule. He was a cripple; and it was
all he could do, with his high spirit and unquestioned moral
superiority, to retain the mastery of the school.
Our next teacher in Winter was Cyrus Winn, from Massachusetts, - a tall, muscular, thoroughly capable young man,
who rarely or never struck a blow, but governed by moral
force, and by appeals to the nobler impulses of his pupils.
They were no better, when he took charge of them, than his
predecessor's had been,- in fact, they were mainly the same,
-yet his sway was far more complete, and the revolts
against it much rarer; and when he left us, at the close of
his second term, a general attendance of parents on his last
afternoon, with a rural feast of boiled cider and doughnuts,
attested the emphatic appreciation of his worth.   For my
own part, I could enjoy nothing, partake of nothing, so
intense was my grief at parting with him. It was the first
keen sorrow of my life. I never saw him again, but learned
that he was drowned the next Winter.
There was an unruly, frolicsome custom of "barring out"
in our New Hampshire common schools, which I trust never
obtained a wider acceptance. On the first of January, and
perhaps on some other day that the big boys chose to consider
or make a holiday, the forenoon passed off as quietly as that
of any other day; but, the moment the master left the house
in quest of his dinner, the little ones were started homeward,
the door and windows suddenly and securely barricaded, and
the older pupils, thus fortified against intrusion, proceeded to
spend the afternoon in play and hilarity. I have known a
master to make a desperate struggle for admission; but I do
not recollect that one ever succeeded, - the odds being too
43 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
great. If he appealed to the neighboring fathers, they were
apt to recollect that they had been boys themselves, and
advise him to desist, and let matters take their course. I
recollect one instance, however, where a youth was shut out
who thought he ought to have been numbered with the elect,
and resolved to resent his exclusion. Procuring a piece of
board, he mounted from a fence to the roof of the schoolhouse, and covered the top of the chimney nicely with his
board. Ten minutes thereafter, the house was filled with
smoke, and its inmates, opening the door and windows, were
glad to make terms with the outsider.
The capital start given me by my mother enabled me to make
rapid progress in school,- a progress monstrously exaggerated
by gossip and tradition. I was specially clever in spelling,
- an art in which there were then few even tolerably proficient, - so that I soon rose to the head of the "first class,"
and usually retained that position. It was a custom of the
school to "choose sides" for a "spelling-match" one afternoon
of. each week, - the head of the first class in spelling, and
the pupil standing next, being the choosers. In my case,
however, it was found necessary to change the rule, and confide the choice to those who stood second and third respectively; as I- a mere infant of four years- could spell, but
not choose, - often preferring my playmates, who could not
spell at all.
These spelling-matches usually took place in the evening,
when I could not keep my eyes open, and should have been
in bed.  It was often necessary to rap me sharply when "the
word" came around to me;, but I never failed to respond;
and it came to be said that I spelled as well asleep as awake.
I apprehend that this was more likely to be true of some
others of the class; who, if ever so sound asleep, could
scarcely have spelled worse than they did.
We very generally complain of frequent changes in our
school-books, and with reason. Yet we ought to consider
that these frequent changes have resulted in signal improvement; that our school-books of to-day are not only far
44 
MY EARLY SCHOOL-DAYS.
better than those of fifty years ago, but that their improvement has not been fully paralleled elsewhere.  When I first
went to school, Webster's Spelling-Book was just supplanting Dilworth's; "The American Preceptor" was pushing
aside "The Art of Reading"; and the only grammar in use
was "The Ladies' Accidence," by Caleb Bingham, - as poor
an affair as its name would indicate.  Geography was scarcely
studied at all; while chemistry, geology, and other departments of natural science, had never been heard of in rural
school-houses. "Morse's Geography," which soon came into
vogue, was a valuable compend of political and statistical
information; but, having barely one map, would scarcely
pass for a school geography now. Very soon, Lindley Murray's Grammar and English Reader came into fashion, - solid
works, but not well adapted to the instruction of children of
eight to fourteen years. In fact, I spent considerable time on
grammar to little purpose, and made no decided progress
therein, till I had learned to scan my authorities critically,
and repudiate their errors. When I had pondered myself
into a decided conviction that Murray did not fully understand his subject, and that his giving "Let me be" as an
example of the first, and "Let him be" as its correlative in
the third person singular of the imperative mood, were simply
blunders, which a deeper knowledge of grammar would have
taught him to avoid, I had broken loose from the shackles of
routine and iteration, and was prepared to accept all the light
from any quarter that might irradiate the science. Daniel
Adams (a New Hampshire man, now lately deceased) had not
then published his lucid and favorite Arithmetic, or, if he
had, it had not reached us; Pike's far more difficult work
was in general use. I cannot say what progress has very
recently been made; but Greenleaf, some thirty or forty
years since, shortened the time and effort required to gain a
decent knowledge of English grammar by at least one half.
I believe like progress has been made in elementary treatises
in other departments of knowledge.
The first book I ever owned was "The Columbian Orator,"
45 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
given to me by my uncle Perry (husband of my father's oldest sister), as I lay very sick of the measles at my maternal
grandfather's, when  about four years of age.  Those who
happen to have been familiar, in its day, with that volume,
will recollect it as a medley of dialogues, extracts from orations, from sermons, from speeches in Parliament, in Congress,
and at the Bar, with two or three versified themes for declamation, such as "Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise!" and the
lines (since attributed to Edward Everett,1 but who  must
have written them very young, if he wrote them at all)
beginning, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in
public on the stage," - lines which I was dragged forward to
recite incessantly, till I fairly loathed them.' This " Orator"
was my prized text-book for years, and I became thoroughly
familiar with its contents; though I cannot say that I ever
learned much of value from it, - certainly not oratory. The
first large work that I ever read consecutively was the Bible,
under the guidance of my mother, when I was about five
years old.
I attended school, rather irregularly, during the brief term
of my fifth and sixth summers, in the western district of
Bedford, about a mile from my father's. For the next two
years, we lived in that township, -my father having tented
his own farm to a brother, and himself removed to the much
larger "Beard Farm," in the eastern part of that town, which
he had undertaken to work on shares. Here we were again
nearly equidistant from two school-houses; living in the
northeastern district, but often attending the school at the
centre of the town, which was much larger, and generally
better taught.
Here I first learned that this is a world of hard work.
Often called out of bed at dawn to "ride horse to plough"
among the growing corn, potatoes, and hops, we would get as
much ploughed by 9 to 10 A. M. as could be hoed that day;
when I would be allowed to start for school, where I some
1 Their author, I have learned since the above was first printed, was Moses
Everett, a Massachusetts teacher of sixty to eighty years ago.
46 
MY EARLY SCHOOL-DAYS.
times arrived as the forenoon session was half through. In
Winter, our work was lighter; but the snow was often deep
and drifted, the cold intense, the north wind piercing, and
our clothing thin; beside which, the term rarely exceeded,
and sometimes fell short of, two months. I am grateful for
much    schooling included -to my native State; yet I trust
her boys of to-day generally enjoy better facilities for education at her common schools than they afforded me half a
century ago.
The  French have a proverb importing that in age we return to the loves of our youth. I have asked myself, " How
would you like to return to that cot on the hillside, and spend
the rest of your days there?" My answer, is that I would
not like it, - that, though adversity drove me inexorably
thence, I have been so thoroughly weaned that I have no
wish to go back "for good."  The cot still looks friendly and
kindly when I (too seldom) pass it; the farm and the orchard
are still familiar objects, and I would gladly muse a sunny,
genial Autumn day there; but my heart no longer recognizes
that spot as its home.
The last Summer that we lived in New Hampshire, an
offer was made by the leading men of our neighborhood to
send me to Phillips Academy at Exeter, and thence to college, - the expense being so defrayed that no part of it should
fall on my parents. They listened thoughtfully to the proposal, briefly deliberated, then firmly, though gratefully, declined it; saying that they would give their children the
best education they could afford, and there stop. I do not
remember that I had then any decided opinion or wish in the
premises; but I now  have; and, from the bottom of my
heart, I thank my parents for their wise and manly decision
Much as I have needed a fuller, better education, I rejoice
that I am indebted for schooling to none but those of,whom
I had a right to ask and expect it.
47 
VI.
ADIEU TO NEW HAMPSHIRE.
UR  tenancy of the "Beard Farm," in Bedford, answered
very nearly to my seventh and eighth years. That was
a large and naturally good farm, but in a state of dilapidation:
overgrown with bushes and briers, its fences in ruins, and the
buildings barely able to stand alone,- the large two-story
house more especially far gone. My father had let his own
farm, on shares, to a younger brother, whom he wished and
hoped thus to serve, while he was led to expect payment for
whatever improvements he should make on that which he
tad taken instead. He was disappointed every way; his
health failed, and he was for nearly a year unable to work;
his brother did not prosper on our place; while the promises
which had lured us to the larger sphere of effort were not
made good. To us children -by this time, four in number
-the larger house and broader activities of the hired farm
were a welcome exchange; but our fortunes, manifestly, waned
there; and I think we were all soberly glad to return to our
own snugger house and smaller farm, in the Spring of 1820.
As we were trying to work off a lee-shore, I believe neither
of us boys went to school at all that Summer, though I was
but nine years old, and my brother not eight till June.
All in vain.  The times were what is termed "hard,"- that
is, almost every one owed, and scarcely any one could pay.
The rapid strides of British manufactures, impelled by the
steam-engine, spinning-jenny, and power-loom, had utterly
undermined the homely household fabrications whereof Londonderry was a prominent American focus; my mother still 
ADIEU TO NEW HAMPSHIRE.
carded her wool and flax, spun her yarn, and wove her woollen,
linen, and tow cloth; but they found no market at living
prices; our hops sold for little more than the cost of bagging;
and, in short, we were bankrupt.  I presume my father had
never been quite out of debt since he bought his place; but
sickness, rash indorsements (a family failing), and bad luck
generally, had swelled his indebtedness'to something like
$1,000,- which all we had in the world would not, at current
prices, pay. In fact, I do not know how much property would
have paid $ 1,000 in New Hampshire in 1820, when almost
every one was hopelessly involved, every third farm was in
the sheriff's hands, and every poor man leaving for "the
West" who could raise the money requisite for getting
sway.  Everything was cheap,- dog-cheap,- British goods
especially so; yet the comparatively rich were embarrassed,
and the poor were often compulsorily idle, and on the brink
of' famine.   I have not been much of a Free-Trader ever
since.
We had finished our Summer tillage and our haying, when
a very heavy rain set in, near the end of August.  I think its
second day was a Saturday; and still the rain poured till far
into the night. Father was absent on business; but our mother
gathered her little ones around her, and delighted us with
stories and prospects of good things she purposed to do for us
in the better days she hoped to see. Father did not return
till after we children were fast asleep; and, when he did, it
was with tidings that our ill-fortune was about to culminate.
I guess that he was scarcely surprised, though we young ones
ruefully were, when, about sunrise on Monday morning, the
sheriff and sundry other officials, with two or three of our
principal creditors, appeared, and -first formally demanding
payment of their claims- proceeded to levy on farm, stock,
implements, household stuff, and nearly all our worldly possessions but the clothes we stood in. There had been no writ
issued till then, - of course, no trial, no judgment, - but it
was a word and a blow in those days, and the blow first, in
the matter of debt-collecting by legal process.  Father left
4
49, 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
the premises directly, apprehending arrest and imprisonment,
and was invisible all day; the rest of us repaired to a friendly
neighbor's, and the work of levying went on in our absence.
It were needless to add that all we had was swallowed up,
and our debts not much lessened. Our farm, which had cost
us $ 1,350, and which had been considerably improved in our
hands, was appraised and set off to creditors at $ 500, out of
which the legal costs were first deducted. A barn-full of rye,
grown by us on another's land, whereof we owned an undivided
half, was attached by a doctor, threshed out by his poorer
customers by days' work on account, and sold; the net result
being an enlargement of our debt,-the grain failing to meet
all the costs.  Thus, when night fell, we were as bankrupt a
family as well could be. 
We returned to our devastated house; and the rest of us
stayed there while father took a journey on foot westward, in
quest of a new home.  He stopped in the township of Hampton, Washington County, N. Y., and worked there two or three
months with a Colonel Parker French, who tilled a noble farm,
and kept tavern on the main road from Troy into western
Vermont. He returned to us in due time, and, on the 1st of
January, 1821, we all started in a hired two-horse sleigh, with
the little worldly gear that was left us, for the township of
Westhaven, Vermont, where father had hired, for $16 per
annum, a small house, in which, after an intensely cold journey, we were installed three days later.
Let me revert for a little to our New Hampshire life, ere I
bid it a final adieu.
I have already said that Amherst and Bedford are in the
main poor towns, whose hard, rocky soil yields grudgingly,
save of wood. Except in the villages, if even there, there
were very few who could be called forehanded in my early
boyhood. Poor as we were, no richer family lived within
sight of our humble homestead, though our western prospect
was "only bounded by the "Chestnut Hills," two or three miles
50 
ADIEU TO NEW HAMPSHIRE.
away. On the east, our range of vision was barred by the
hill on the side of which we lived.  The leading man of our
neighborhood was Captain Nathan Barnes, a Calvinist deacon,
after whom my brother was named, and who was a farmier of 
decided probity and sound judgment,- worth, perhaps, $ 3,000.
Though an ardent Federalist, as were a majority of his townsmen, he commanded a company of "exempts," raised to defend
the country in case of British invasion, during the war of
1812.
The Revolutionary War was not yet thirty years bygone
when I was born, and its passions, its prejudices, and its
ballads were still current throughout that intensely Whig
region. When neighbors and neighbors' wives drew together
at the house of one of their number for an evening visit, there
were often interspersed with "Cruel Barbara Allen," and other
love-lorn ditties then in vogue, such reminiscences of the preceding age as "American Taxation," a screed of some fifty
prosaic verses, opening thus:
"While I relate my story,
Americans, give ear;
Of Britain's fading glory
You presently shall hear.
I'11ll give a true relation,
(Attend to what I say,)
Concerning the taxation
Of North America."
The last throes of expiring loyalty are visible in this longdrawn ballad,- Bute and North, and even Fox, being soundly
berated for acts of tyranny whereof  their royal master,
George III., was sole author, and they but reluctant, hesitating, apprehensive instruments.
The ballads of the late war with Great Britain were not so
popular in our immediate neighborhood, though my mother
had good store of these also, and sang them with spirit and
effect, along with "Boyne Water," "The Taking of Quebec,"' by
Wolfe, and even "Wearing of the Green," which, though
dating from Ireland's'98, has been revived and adopted in
our day, with so vast and deserved an Irish popularity.
5.1 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
We were, in the truest sense, democrats, we Scotch-Irish
Federalists from Londonderry, where Jefferson received but
two votes in the memorable struggle of 1800. When, for a
single.year at the "Beard Farm," our house echoed to the tread
of a female "help," whose natural abilities were humble, and
whose literary acquirements were inferior even to ours, that
servant always ate with the family, even when we had the
neighbors as "company"; and, though her wages were but
fifty cents a week, she had her party, and invited the girls of
the neighborhood to be her guests at tea, precisely as if she
had been a daughter of the house. Nowhere were manners
ever simpler, or society freer from pretension or exclusiveness,
than in those farmers' homes.
Hospitality was less bounteous, and kinship less prized,
than in the days of the Scotch-Irish pioneers; but there was
still much visiting of relatives and social enjoyment, especially
in Winter, when hundreds returned to the old Londonderry
hive from the younger swarms scattered all over the East:
Some of them beginning to stretch away even to the far " Holland Purchase," in Western New York; then practically as
distant as Oregon or Alaska now is. I remember when the
Doles left the "Chestnut Hills" to pitch their tent in Illinois,
-then a far bolder venture than migration to Sitka would
now be.  I have often seen my grandfather Woodburn's house
crammed for days with cousins and nephews from Vermont
and other'Derry settlements, who could not be so many as
to miss a hearty welcome. Our house was far smaller, and
less frequented; but its latch-string was always out; and a
free liver, with twelve brothers and sisters, to say nothing of
their partners by marriage and their children, is not apt to
be persistently shunned. In fact, we lived better than we
could afford to (as poor folks are too apt to do), and this was
one cause of our downfall. My father, as proud as he was
poor, spared nothing when friends and relatives, especially
those of higher social standing, favored him with their company, and was rarely found unable to fulfil their most sanguine
expectations. When too many dropped in upon us at once,
52 
ADIEU TO NEW HAMPSHIRE.
or we were found deficient in the luxuries they might fairly
expect, he had a habit of telling them this anecdote:
"When I was a boy of fifteen," said he, "I worked two
summers in the great brick-yards of Medford, Mass. My
employer, Mr. Marshall, was at first a new man in the community, whose wife deemed it incumbent on her to give her
neighbors a tea-party, as a prelude to better acquaintance.
In those ante-canal days, wheaten flour was a luxury, though
nearly all had it for'company' occasions; ordinarily, our
bread was made of'rye and Indian' exclusively.  Mrs. Marshall, on the great occasion, had the inevitable'short-cake'
for tea,- of rye flour, as all could perceive: still, it was not
imperative on common folks to proffer cake of wheaten flour;
and all would have passed off without remark, and been soon
forgotten, but for a maladroit explanation by the hostess.
'Ladies,' said she to her guests,'I beg you not to infer that
we have no wheat flour, from the fact that I give you rye
short-cake. We have wheat flour in the house; but I thought
I would save that for Mr. Marshall, when he comes to work
hard in haying-time."' The astonished guests tittered; the
glee broadened into a loud laugh as the explanation galloped
through the neighborhood; and it readily passed into a proverb,
that anything deficient on a kindred occasion was saved for
Mr. Marshall in haying-time.  "Friends," added my father,
in conclusion, "if you note anything deficient in our fare,
consider that it is saved for Mr. Marshall in haying-time."
53 
VI-I.
WESTHAVEN.
HE  township of Westhaven, Vermont, comprises that
irregular corner of the State which is bounded by Lake
Champlain on the west, and by Hampton and Whitehall,
N. Y., on the south and southeast, and may be roughly compared to a very blunt wedge driven into the State of New
York; its point being formed by the rather sharp angle which
the little Poultney river, which here divides the two States,
makes with the Lake, in which it is finally lost. The general
4)plain or level, widening from south to north, which separates
the Green Mountains from that lake, is here repeatedly broken
by gentle upheavals of limestone, and, less frequently, by
higher and more precipitous ridges of gneiss or of trap, which
increase in number and height as you approach the chain of
verdant hills which have given the State her name.
This whole region was thickly covered by heavy timber,
in good part, white pine,- when its devastation by our race
commenced; and its proximity to navigable water, with the
abundance of mill-streams everywhere pervading it, incited
its rapid monopoly for "lumbering" purposes.  A Dr. Smith,
from Connecticut, -brother of one and uncle of another
Governor of that State,- pitched his tent in Westhaven (then
a part of Fairhaven) some seventy to eighty years ago, and
did great execution upon the pines; rapidly amassing wealth,
and becoming an extensive landholder. Death stopped him
in mid-career, paralyzing his activity, and dividing his property, whereof part was inherited by his brother, and the
residue by his widow; who soon married Christopher Minot, 
WESTHAVEN.
a Boston banker, who thenceforth made his home in Westhaven; inhabiting the spacious mansion which his predecessor
had barely lived to complete. Our first home in Vermont
was on his estate, and within a few rods of his mansion; and
we mainly worked for him, or on his land, while we lived in
that town.
Westhaven might have been, and should be to-day, a rich
grazing township; but for its original wealth of pines, it probably would have been. But its pioneers, high and low, were
lumbermen; and it has never yet liberated itself from their
baleful sway. As Moore says,
"The trail of the serpent is over it all."
As the pines had begun to fail, I presume its population was
declining when we settled there, or a house that might be
lived in with frugal comfort could not have been hired for
$16 per annum; but it had then a considerably larger population than it has to-day, - our school-district at least twice
as much. "Going West" has ever since been the general
proclivity; though I believe any one who understands and
likes dairy farming can buy land and buildings there cheaper
than anywhere beyond the Ohio. By and by some one will
settle there who knows how to apply the superabundant lime
to the strong but stubborn clay; making farms richly worth
$100 per acre which now go begging at $ 30. Until then, let
Westhaven sleep; for I lack power or time to wake her.  I
can heartily commend her remaining people -all farmers,
after a sort - as too honest to need a lawyer, and too wise to
support a grog-shop, even though the law had not forbidden
any one to open it.
When we first set our stakes there, father was thirty-eight
and mother was thirty-three years old. I was not quite ten;
my brother and two sisters, eight, six, and four, respectively.
A third sister - the youngling of the flock- was born two
years later; and all five of us children have been spared
through the intervening forty-seven years.
We now made the acquaintance of genuine poverty,-not
5'5 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
beggary, nor dependence, but the manly American sort. Our
sum total of worldly goods, including furniture, bedding, and
the clothes we stood in, may have been worth $ 200; but, as
we had afterward to pay that amount on old New Hampshire
debts, our material possessions may be fairly represented by 0,
with a credit for $ 200 worth of clothing and household stuff.
Yet, we never needed nor ran into debt for anything; never
were without meal, meat, and wood, and very rarely without
money.  Father went to chopping at fifty cents per day, with out repining or apprehension; and we children all went to
school till Spring, though there were no school-funds in those
days, and rate-bills for four children made quite a hole in a
gross income of $ 3 per week. Hitherto, we had never lived
Within a mile of a school-house; now, we were within fifty
rods of one,- in fact, of two; for a quarrel had split the district, and two schools were in full blast on our arrival, - one
on either side of us. The Vermont schools were rather better
than the New Hampshire, - better, at least, in this: their
terms were longer. I never tried them in Summer, - except
during one very rainy day; but I had a full opportunity in
Winter; and I deeply regret that such homely sciences as
Chemistry, Geology, and Botany were never taught, - were
not even named therein. Had our range of studies included
these, I had ample time to learn something of them; and this
would have proved of inestimable value to me evermore. Yet,
I am thankful that Algebra had not yet been thrust into our
rural common schools, to knot the brains and squander the
time of those who should be learning something of positive
and practical utility.
Before the Spring of 1821 opened, father had taken a job of
clearing fifty acres of wild land, a mile north of our cot; and
here he and his sons were employed, save in Winter, for the
next two years.
The work was rugged and grimy, but healthful. The land
had been timbered with Yellow Pine, a thousand years before,
-as a hundred giant trunks, long since prostrated, but not
yet wholly mouldered back to dust, attested. This was fol
56 
WESTHA VEN.
lowed by a forest of White Pines, of which hundreds were
still standing, mostly lifeless; while a large number lay prone
and dead, though the trunks were mainly sound. Black Ash
in abundance formed a later and generally living growth;
though a fierce conflagration, which swept over this whole
region, during a great drouth, four years before we saw it, had
devoured much, and killed more of the forest, but increased
the undergrowth of Beech, Alder, Poplar, etc., which we were
required to dispose of. When we first attacked it, the snow
was just going, and the water and slush were knee-deep. We
were all indifferent choppers, when compared with those who
usually grapple with great forests; and the job looked so formidable that travellers along the turnpike which skirted our
task were accustomed to halt and comfort us with predictions
that we boys would be grown men before we saw the end of
it. But, cutting trees and bushes; chopping up great trunks
into manageable lengths, drawing them together, rolling up
and burning great heaps of logs; saving out here and there a
log that would do to saw; digging out rotten pines from the
soil wherein they had embedded themselves, so that they
might dry sufficiently to burn; piling and burning brush and
rotten or worthless sticks, and carting home such wood as
served for fuel, we persevered until the job was done; when I
could have begun another just like it and managed so as not
to require more than two thirds of the labor we expended on
this. And now, if any one has a great tract of land to clear
of trees, decaying logs, and bushes, I fancy that I might give
him hints worth considering. N. B.- I work for pay.
We had been farmers of the poorer class in New Hampshire; we took rank with day-laborers in Vermont. We had
lived freely, though not lavishly, much less sumptuously, in
our earlier home; here, we were compelled to observe a sterner
frugality. The bread of our class in this section was almost
exclusively made of rye,- Indian corn being little grown on
the clay soil of Western Vermont, - and, though there are
always about six women alive who know how to make of rye
the best bread ever tasted, our mother was not one of these,
57 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and never learned their admirable art.  Then the clay itself,
alternating with the weather from mire to rock, is not well
adapted to bare feet; while the detestable Canada thistles,
which infest every road and almost every field in Westhaven,
are not conducive to placidity of temper or propriety of speech.
Having the sharp lances of these thistles dug out of my festered feet with needles was long my daily terror and my
nightly torture; the tough, horny integument with which
their rough experiences had covered our naked feet rendering
the dislodgement of the thistle-beards more laborious and
painful than any soft-footed person can realize. I have never
since been able to appraise stiff clay soils at their full value.
A precipitous ledge, eighty rods east of the turnpike from
which we worked westward, afforded us good spring water,
and supplied us also with rattlesnakes, whereof we killed
some, which might have proved annoying to us barefoot boys,
as we worked among the brush and weeds, had they caught
the idea. Still, clearing land is pleasant work, especially
when you have a hundred heaps of logs and brush burning at
once of a dark, windy night; while ten or twenty acres of
fallen, leafy tiinber, on fire at once, affords a magnificent spectacle.  We were to have had $ 7 per acre, with the use of a
team, and half the wood suitable for timber and fuel; and,
though $ 350, even in those days, was not large pay for two
years' work of a man and two boys, we were well satisfied.
In the event, however, Mr. Minot died before we had effected
a settlement; when his estate was declared insolvent, and we
were juggled out of a part of our pay.
Our third year in Vermont was spent two miles farther
west, where we inhabited and worked a little place known as
Flea Knoll, while father ran a neighboring saw-mill on shares.
As he sawed twelve hours on and twelve off, with a partner,
I insisted on being his helper; but I think once working from
noon till midnight satiated my ambition, and I never fully
learned the art and mystery of sawing boards by water-power.
lMy brother, though younger, was more persistent, and made
greater progress. I gave that Summer pretty diligently to
58 
WESTHAVEN.
farming, with very meagre results. First, the season was wet
till the 1st of June; and our corn, planted in mortar, encountered a brick-like crust when it undertook to come up; and,
unable to pierce or break it, pushed laterally under it for two
inches or so, until we dug off the crust, and introduced the
pale, imprisoned shoots to sunshine. Next came a long Summer of intense drouth, baking and cracking our fields, so that
the hoe made no serious impression on their rock-like masses,
causing the corn to stand still and turn yellow, while the
thistles came up thick, rank, and vigorous, covering the fields
with a verdure most deceitful to the eye at a distance. We
had failed in an attempt to make maple sugar that Spring: the
season being bad, the trees distant, and our knowledge of the
art very meagre; our crops amounted to little; while the
water we drank here was so bad that the fever and ague struck
down our parents in the Fall, and all of us children next
Spring, when we beat a precipitate retreat from "Flea Knoll,"
where it was said that no family ever remained more than
a year, -and returned to the Minot estate; living in a larger
house just west of our former tenement, cultivating the adjacent land on shares, and clearing off some twenty acres more
of young White Pine, for which we were to be paid by two
years' crops; which proved, in the main, a failure: our wheat
being destroyed by the midge.
Thus ended my boyish experiences of farming, which may
be said to have commenced in my sixth, and closed with my
fifteenth year. During the whole period, though an eager
and omnivorous reader, I never saw a book that treated of
Agriculture and the natural sciences auxiliary thereto. I think
I never saw even one, copy of a periodical devoted mainly to
farming; and I doubt that we ever harvested one bounteous
crop. A good field of rye, or corn, or grass, or potatoes, we
sometimes had; but we had more half crops than whole ones;
and a good yield of any one product was generally balanced
by two or three poor ones. I know I had the stuff in me for
an efficient and successful farmer; but such training as I
received at home would never have brought it out. And the
59 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
moral I would deduce from my experience is simply this:
Our farmers' sons escape fromn  their fathers' calling whenever
they can, because it is made a mindless, monotonous drudgery,
instead of an ennobling, liberalizing, intellectual pursuit.  Could
I have known in my youth what a business farming sometimes is, always may be, and yet generally shall be, I would
never have sought nor chosen any other. In the farmer's
calling, as I saw it followed, there was neither scope for expanding faculties, incitement to constant growth in knowledge, nor a spur to generous ambition. To preserve existence
was its ordinary impulse; to get rich, its exceptional and
most exalted aim.  So I turned from it in dissatisfaction, if
not in disgust, and sought a different sphere and vocation.
Fairhaven, lying southeast of Westhaven, was the poorer
of the two towns thirty years ago, producing no surplus but
of rye, which was readily transmuted into whiskey, and drank
at -home to no profit; but the more recent development of
her natural wealth in slate, with the erection of mills for sawing the marble abundantly found a few miles farther east, has
given her a pretty rapid and quite substantial growth. Though
limited in area, and nowise inviting in soil, Fairhaven now
takes rank with the more prosperous townships of Vermont;
a considerable accession of inhabitants, - mainly Welsh miners and Irish laborers, - with the erection of new dwellings
and other structures, evincing the thrift which everywhere
attends or follows the opening of a new field for productive
industry. Fairhaven might to-day be mistaken, at a hasty
glance, for a growing township of Pennsylvania or Ohio;
while Westhaven - having no pursuit but Agriculture- lies
petrified and lifeless as though located in Nova Scotia or
Lower Canada. Clearly, Man was not intended to live by
bread alone, - whether the eating or the growing of it.
60 
VIII.
MY APPRENTICESHIP.
AVING loved and devoured newspapers-indeed, every
form of periodical- from childhood, I early resolved
to be a printer if I could.  When but eleven years old, hearing that an apprentice was wanted in the newspaper office at
Whitehall, I accompanied my father to that office, and tried
hard to find favor in the printer's eyes; but he promptly and
properly rejected me as too young, and would not relent; so
I went home downcast and sorrowful. No new opportunity
was presented till the Spring of 1826, when an apprentice was
advertised for by the publishers of The Northern Spectator, at
East Poultney, Vt. That paper had just been purchased by
an association of the leading citizens of the place from its
founders, Messrs. Smith and Shute, who had started it as The
Poultney Gazette three or four years before.   The village,
though larger and more active then than now, was not adequate to the support of a newspaper; but the citizens thought
otherwise, and resolved to maintain one, under the management of a committee. So they hired from New York an
editor, —Mr. E.G. Stone, brother of the more distinguished
editor of The Commercial Advertiser, - paid handsomely for
the printing-office and good-will, and went ahead. Much of
the old force having left with the retiring publishers, there
was room for a new apprentice, and I wanted the place. My
father was aboat starting for the wide West in quest of a
future home; so, not needing at the moment my services, he
readily acceded to my wishes. I walked over to Poultney,
saw the publishers, came to an understanding with them, and 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
returned; and a few days afterward - April 18, 1826my father took me down, and verbally agreed with them for
my services. I was to remain till twenty years of age, be
allowed my board only for six months, and thereafter $ 40 per
annum in addition for my clothing.  So I stopped, and went
to work; while he returned to Westhaven, and soon left in
quest of a more inviting region. He made his way to the
town of Wayne, Erie County, Pennsylvania, on the State line
opposite Clymer, Chautauqua County, N.Y., - a spot where
his brothers Benjamin and Leonard had, three or four years
earlier, made holes in the tall, dense forest, which then
covered nearly all that region for twenty to fifty miles in
every direction.   He bought out first one, then another
pioneer, until he had at length two or three hundred acres of
good land, but covered with a heavy growth of Beech, Maple,
Elm, Hemlock, &c.  Having made his first purchase,- which
included a log hut, and four acres of clearing, - he returned
for his family; and I walked over from Poultney to spend a
Sabbath with and bid them farewell.
It was a sad parting. We had seen hard times together,
and were very fondly attached to each other. I was urged
by some of my kindred to give up Poultney, -where there
were some things in the office not exactly to my mind,- and
accompany them to their new home; whence, they urged, I
could easily find, in its vicinity, another and better chance to
learn my chosen trade. I was strongly tempted to comply;
but it would have been bad faith to do so; and I turned my
face once more toward Poultney with dry eyes but a heavy
heart. A word from my mother, at the critical moment,
might have overcome my resolution; but she did not speak
it, and I went my way; leaving the family soon to travel
much farther, and in an opposite direction. After the parting
was over, and I well on my way, I was strongly tempted to
return; and my walk back to Poultney (twelve miles) was
one of the slowest and saddest of my life.
I have ever since been thankful that I did not yield to the
temptation of the hour. Poultney was a capital place to
62 
MY APPRENTICESHIP.
serve an apprenticeship. Essentially a rural community, her
people are at once intelligent and moral; and there are few
villages wherein the incitements to dissipation and vice are
fewer or less obtrusive. The organization and management
of our establishment were vicious; for an apprentice should
have one master; while I had a series of them, and often two
or three at once. First, our editor left us; next, the company
broke up or broke down, as any one might have known it
would; and a mercantile firm in the village became owners
and managers of the concern; and so we had a succession of
editors and of printers. These changes enabled me to demand
and receive a more liberal allowance for the later years of my
apprenticeship; but the office was too laxly ruled for the
most part, and, as to instruction, every one had perfect liberty
to learn whatever he could. In fact, as but two, or at most
three, persons were employed in the printing department, it
would have puzzled an apprentice to avoid a practical knowledge of whatever was done there. I had not been there a
year before my hands were blistered and my back lamed by
working off the very considerable edition of the paper on an
old-fashioned, two-pull Ramage (wooden) press,- a task beyond my boyish strength, - and I can scarcely recall a day
wherein we were not hurried by our work. I would not
imply that I worked too hard; yet I think few apprentices
work more steadily and faithfully than I did throughout the
four years and over of my stay in Poultney. While I lived
at home, I had always been allowed a day's fishing, at least
once a month in Spring and Summer, and I once went hunting; but I never fished, nor hunted, nor attended a dance, nor
any sort of party or fandango, in Poultney. I doubt that I
even played a game of ball.
Yet I was ever considerately and even kindly treated by
those in authority over me; and I believe I generally merited
and enjoyed their confidence and good-will.  Vary seldom
was a word of reproach or dissatisfaction addressed to me by
one of them. Though I worked diligently, I found much
time for reading, and might have had more, had every leisure
63 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
hour been carefully improved. I had been generously'loaned
books from the Minot house while' in Westhaven; I found
good ones abundant and accessible in Poultney; where I first
made the acquaintance of a public library. I have never
since found at once books, and opportunity to enjoy them, so
ample as while there; I do not think I ever before or since
read to so much profit. They say that apprenticeship is distasteful to, and out of fashion with, the boys of our day: if so, 
I regret it for their sakes.  To the youth who asks, "How
shall I obtain an education?"  I would answer, "Learn  a
trade of a good master."  I hold firmly that most boys may
thus better acquire the knowledge they need than by spending
four years in college.
I was kindly allowed to visit my father's family in their
new Western home twice during my apprenticeship; having
a furlough of a month in either instance. I made either journey by way of the Erie Canal, on those line-boats whose "cent
and a half a mile, mile and a half an hour," so many yet
remember. Railroads, as yet, were not; the days passed
slowly yet smoothly on those gliding arks, being enlivened
by various sedentary games; but the nights were tedious
beyond any sleeping-car experience. At daybreak, you were
routed out of your shabby, shelf-like berth, and driven on
deck to swallow fog while the cabin was cleared of its beds
and made ready for breakfast. I say nothing as to "the good
old times"; but, if any one would recall the good old lineboats, I object. And the wretched little tubs that then did
duty for steamboats on Lake Erie were scarcely less conducive
to the increase and diffusion of human misery. I have suffered in them to the extent of mortal endurance; I have left
one at Dunkirk, and walked twenty miles to Westfield, instead
of keeping on by boat at a trifling charge, simply because
flesh and blood could bear the torture no longer. I trust I
have due respect for "the good old ways" we often hear of;
yet I feel that this earthly life has been practically lengthened
and sweetened by the invention and construction of railroads.
Among the incidents of my sojourn in Poultney that made
64 
' MY APPRENTICESHIP.
most impression on my mind is a fugitive slave-chase. New
York had professed to abolish slavery years before, but had
ordained that certain born slaves should remain such till
twenty-eight years old; and the year of jubilee for certain.of
these had not yet come. A young negro, who must have been
uninstructed in the sacredness of constitutional guaranties,
the rights of property, &c., &c., &c., feloniously abstracted himself from his master in a neighboring New York town, and
conveyed the chattel-personal to our village; where he was
at work when said master, with due process and following,
came over to reclaim and recover the goods.   I never saw so
large a muster of men and boys so suddenly on our villagegreen as his advent incited; and the result was a speedy disappearance of the chattel, and the return of his master, disconsolate and niggerless, to the place whence hq came. Everything on our side was impromptu and instinctive; and nobody
suggested that envy or hate of "the South," or of New York,
or of the master, had impelled the rescue. Our people hated
injustice and oppression, and acted as if they could n't help it.
Another fresh recollection of those far-off days concerns
our Poultney celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of American Independence. I know we still celebrate the Fourth of
July; but it does seem to me that the glory has departed.
In those times, we had always from twenty to fifty PRevolutionary soldiers on the platform,    veterans of seventy to
ninety years, in whose eyes the recurrence of the nation's anniversary seemed to rekindle "the light of other days."  The
semi-centennial celebration brought out these in full force,the gatherings were unusually large, and the services impres sive; since few of those present, and none of the veterans, could
rationally hope to see its repetition. The Declaration of In dependence sounded far less antediluvian than it now does;
the quarrel of the colonists with King George, if not recent,
was yet real; and the old soldiers forgot for a day their rheu matism, their decrepitude, and their poverty, and were proud
of their bygone perils and hardships, and their abiding scars.
I doubt that Poultney has since been so thrilled with patriotic
5
65 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY'LIFE.
emotion as on that 4th of July, 1826; and when we learned,
a few days later, that Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, the
author and the great champion, respectively, of the Declaration, had both died on that day, and that the messengers
bearing South and North, respectively, the tidings of their
decease, had met in Philadelphia, under the shadow of that
Hall in which our Independence was declared, it seemed that
a Divine attestation had solemnly hallowed and sanctified the
great anniversary by the impressive ministration of Death.
Time works changes, even where a hasty glance discerns
but immobility and virtual stagnation. A railroad from Troy
to Rutland (via Eagle Bridge and Salem, N. Y.) now runs
through West Poultney; increasing the decided advantage
which that village had already achieved over its rival by the
establishment within its limits of a great Methodist seminary
and of certain manufactures. East Poultney has fewer stores,
fewer mechanics' shops, less business, and fewer inhabitants, than when I first saw it, forty-odd years ago; while
scarcely a house has meantime been built within its limits.
It is still a pleasant place to visit, however; and I live in
hopes of spending a quiet week there ere I die.
Our paper was intensely Adams and Clay before, and in the
Presidential struggle of 1828, and our whole community sympathized with its preference.  The defection of our State's foremost politician, Governor Cornelius P. Van Ness, after he had
vainly tried, while professing to be an Adams man, to vault from
the Governor's chair into the United States Senate, created
a passing ripple on the face of the current, but did not begin
,to stem it. A few active yet unpopular politicians went over
with him; but the masses stood firm, especially in our section,
where the influence of Hon. PRollin C. Mallary, our representative in Congress, was unrivalled. The Jackson party nominated him for Congress; but that did not affect his position,
nor much affect his vote, which in any case would have been
nearly lman'imous. We Vermonters were all Protectionists;
66 
MY APPRENTICESHIP.
and Mr. Mallary was the foremost champion of our cause in
the House. He made a speech in Poultney the evening before
the election, when, though the omens were sinister, we still
hoped that Adams might be reelcted. The Jackson paper
nearest us headed its Electoral Ticket, "For General Jackson
and a Protective Tariff"; and Jackson men all over the
North and West protested that their party was as decidedly
for Protection as ours; pointing to the attitude of Pennsylvania, at once the leading Protectionist and the strongest
Jackson State; but we could not help seeing that all the
Free Traders were for Jackson; that Calhoun was running
with him for Vice-President; and that South Carolina was
threatening nullification and forcible resistance if the Protective policy were not abandoned; and we concluded that either
Pennsylvania or Carolina must be cheated, and that the latter
would take good care not to be. So Mr. Mallary urged us to
stand fast by those whom.we knew to be devoted to our cherished policy, rather than try those whose professions were
discredited by notorious facts; and the response in our section
was enthusiastic.   Poultney gave next day 334 votes for
Adams to 4 for Jackson. I doubt that her vote has ever
since been so unanimous or so strong. And, though the general result was heavily adverse to our desperate hopes, - only
New England, not quite half of New York, New Jersey, Delaware, and part of Maryland, giving Mr. Adams their votes;
while Pennsylvania, the rest of New York, and all the South
and West, went against him, - we had the poor consolation,
that, for whatever disaster the political revolution might
involve, no shadow of responsibility could rest on our own
Vermont.
67 
IX.
MY FAITH.
MUST have been about ten years old, when, in some
school-book, whereof I have forgotten the name, I first
read an account of the treatment of the Athenians by Demetrius, called Poliorcetes (Destroyer of Cities), one of the successors of "Macedonia's madman."  I cannot rediscover that
account; so I must be content with the far tamer and less
vivid narration of the French historian Rollin: -
* "Demetrius had withdrawn himself to Ephesus after the Battle
of Ipsus, [wherein he was routed,] and thence embarked for Greece;
his whole resources being trusted to the affection of the Athenians,
with whom he had left his fleet, money, and wife, Deidamia. But
he was strangely surprised and offended when he was met on his
way by ambassadors from the Athenians, who came to apprise him
that he could not be admitted into their city, because the people
had, by a decree, prohibited the reception of any of the kings;
they also informed him that his consort, Deidamia, had been conducted to Megara with all the honors and attendance due to her
dignity. Demetrius was then sensible of the value of honors and
homages extorted by fear, and which did not proceed from the will.
The posture of his affairs not permitting him to revenge the perfidy
of that people, he contented himself with intimating his complaints
to them in a moderate manner, and demanded his galleys; with
which, as soon as he had received them, he sailed toward the
Chersonesus."
Not many months elapsed before, through one of those
strange and sudden mutations which were frequent throughout his career, the fortunes of Demetrius were completely 
MY FAITH.
restored, and he was enabled to settle his running account
with those who had proved so treacherous in his adversity.
I return here to the narration of PRollin:   "Athens, as we have already observed, had revolted from Deme trius, and shut her gates against him.   But, lvhen that prince
thought he had sufficiently provided for the security of his terri tories in Asia, he moved against that rebellious and ungrateful
city, with a resolution to punish her as she deserved. The first
year was devoted to the conquest of the Messenians, and of some
other cities which had quitted his party; but he returned the next
season to Athens, which he closed, blocked up, and reduced to the
last extremity, by cutting off all influx of provisions.  A fleet of a
hundred and fifty sail, sent by King Ptolemy to succor the Athen ians, and which appeared off the coast of AEgina, afforded them but
a transient joy; for, when this naval force saw a strong fleet arrive
from Peloponnesus to the assistance of Demetrius, besides a great
number of other vessels from Cyprus, and that the whole amounted
to three hundred, they weighed anchor and fled.
"Although the Athenians had issued a decree by which  they
made it t capital offence for any person even to mention a peace
with Demetrius, the extremity to which they were reduced obliged
them to open their gates to him. When he entered the city, he
commanded the inhabitants to assemble in the theatre, which he
surrounded with armed troops, and posted his guards on either
side of the stage where the dramatic pieces were wont to be per formed; and then, descending from the upper part of the theatre,
in the manner usual with actors, he showed himself to the multi tude, who seemed more dead than alive, and awaited the event in
inexpressible terror, expecting it would prove their sentence to
destruction; but he dissipated their apprehensions by the first
words he uttered: for he did not raise his voice like a man enraged,
nor deliver himself in any passionate or insulting terms; but
softened the tones of his voice, and only addressed to them gentle
complaints and amicable expostulations. He pardoned their offence
and restored them to his favor, —presenting them, at the same
time, with 100,000 measures of corn [wheat], and reinstating such
magistrates as were most agreeable to them. The joy of this
people may be easily conceived from the terrors with which they
were previously affected; and how glorious must that prince be
who could always support so admirable a character!1"
69 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
Reflecting with admiration on this exhibition of a magnanimity too rare in human annals, I was moved to inquire if a
spirit so nobly, so wisely, transcending the mean and savage
impulse which man too often disguises as justice, when it is
in essence revenfge, might not be reverently termed Divine;
and the firm conclusion to which I was finally led, imported
that the old Greek's treatment of vanquished rebels or prostrate enemies must forcibly image and body forth that of the
"King immortal, invisible, and only wise God."
When I reached this conclusion, I had never seen one who
was called, or who called himself, a Universalist; and I neither
saw one, nor read a page of any one's writings, for years thereafter. I had only heard that there were a few graceless reprobates and scurvy outcasts, who pretended to believe that all
men would be saved, and to wrench the Scriptures into some
sort of conformity to their mockery of a creed. I had read
the Bible through, much of it repeatedly, but when quite
too infantile to form any coherent, definite synopsis of the
doctrines I presumed to be taught therein. But, soon after
entering a printing-office, I procured exchanges with several
Universalist periodicals, and was thenceforth familiar with
their methods of interpretation and of argument; though I
first heard a sermon preached by one of this school while
passing through Buffalo, about 1830; and I was acquainted
with no society, and no preacher, of this faith, prior to my
arrival in New York in August, 1831; when I made my way,
on the first Sunday morning of my sojourn, to the little chapel
in Grand Street, near Pitt,- about the size of an average
country school-house,- where Rev. Thomas J. Sawyer, then
quite young, ministered to a congregation of, perhaps, a
hundred souls; to which congregation I soon afterward
attached myself: remaining a member of it until he left
the city.
I am not, therefore, to be classed with those who claim to
have been converted from one creed to another by studying
the Bible alone. Certainly, upon re-reading that book in the
light of my new convictions, I found therein abundant proof
70 
MY FAITH.
of their correctness in the averments of patriarchs,* prophets,t
apostles,$ and of the Messiah ~ himself.   But not so much in
particular passages, however pertinent and decisive, as in the
spirit and general scope of the Gospel,- so happily blending
inexorable punishment for every offence with unfailing pity
and ultimate forgiveness for the chastened transgressor, - thus
saving sinners from sin by leading them, through suffering, to
loathe and forsake it; and in laying down its Golden Rule,
which, if of universal application, (and why not?) must be
utterly inconsistent with the infliction of infinite and unending
torture as the penalty of transient, and often ignorant, offending, did I find ample warrant for my hope and trust that all
suffering is disciplinary and transitional, and shall ultimately
result in universal holiness and consequent happiness.
In the light of this faith, the dark problem of Evil is irradiated, and virtually solved.   "Perfect through suffering"
was the way traced out for the great Captain of our salvation:
then why not for all the children of Adam? To say that
temporary affliction is as difficult to reconcile with Divine
goodness as eternal agony is to defy reason and insult common
sense.  The history of Joseph's perfidious sale into slavery by
his brethren, and the Divine overruling 11 of that crime into a
means of vast and permanent blessing to the entire family of
Jacob, is directly in point. Once conceive that an Omniscient
Beneficence presides over and directs the entire course of
human affairs, leading ever onward and upward to universal
purity and bliss, and all evil becomes phenomenal and preparative,- a nmere curtain or passing cloud, which hides for a
moment the light of the celestial and- eternal day.
I am not wise enough, even in my own conceit, to assume
to say where and when the deliverance of our race from evil
and suffering shall be consummated. Perceiving that many
* Gen. iii. 15; xii. 3.
t Isa. xxv. 8; xlv. 23 - 25.
t Rom. v. 12 - 21; viii. 19 - 21;  1 Cor. xv. 42-54; Eph. i. 8-10; Col. i.
19-21; 1 Tim. ii. 3-6.
~ Matt. xv. 13; John xii. 32.
11 Gen. xlv. 5- 8.
71 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
leave this stage of being depraved and impenitent, I cannot
believe  that they will be transformed into angels of purity by
the intervention of a circumstance so purely physical and
involuntary as death. Holding that the government of God
is everywhere and always perfect (however inadequate may
be our comprehension of it), I infer that, alike in all worlds,
men will be chastised whenever they shall need to be, and
that neither by suicide, nor any other device, can a single
individual escape the penalty of his evil:doing. If man is
punished  because he needs to be,   because that is best for
him, -why should such discipline be restricted to this span
of life? While I know that the words translated hell, eternal,
&c., in our version of the Bible, bear various meanings which
the      translators have befogged,   giving hell, the grave, the pit,
&c., as equivalents of the one Hebrew term that signifies the
unseen home of departed souls, -and while I am sure that
the    luxuriant metaphors whereby a state of anguish and suffering are depicted were not meant to be taken literally,- I yet
realize that human iniquity is often so flagrant and enormous
that its punishment, to be just and efficient, must be severe
and protracted. How or where it will be inflicted are matters
of incident and circumstance, not of principle nor of primary
consequence. Enough that it will be administered by One
who "doth not willingly * [that is, wantonly] afflict nor grieve
the children of men," but because their own highest good
demands it, and would be prejudiced by his withholding it.
But I do not dogmatize nor speculate. I rest in a more assured conviction of what Tennyson timidly, yet impressively,
warbles, in mourning the death of his beloved friend:
"0, yet we trust that, somehow, good
Will be the final goal of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
"That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroyed,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete;
* Lam. iii. 33.
72 
MY FAITH.
"That not a worm is cloven in vain;
That not a moth, with vain desire,
Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire,
Or but subserves another's gain.
"Behold! we know not anything:
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last, - far off, - at last, to all,
And every Winter change to Spring."
Twenty years earlier, Mrs. Hiemans, when on the brink of
the angelic life, was blest with a gleam from within the celestial gates, and, in almost her last sonnet, faintly refracted it
as       follows -
. "ON RECORDS OF IMMATURE GENIUS.
"0, judge in thoughtful tenderness of those
Who, richly dowered for life, are called to die
Ere the soul's flame, through storms, hath won repose
In truth's divinest ether, still and high!
Let their minds' riches claim a trustful sigh;
Deem them but sad, sweet fragments of a strain,
First notes of some yet struggling harmony
By the strong rush, the crowding joy and pain,
Of many inspirations, met and held
From its true sphere. 0, soon it might have swelled
Majestically forth! Nor doubt that He
Whose touch mysterious may on earth dissolve
Those links of music, elsewhere will evolve
Their grand, consummate hymn, from passion-gusts made free!"
If I pronounce timid and tentative these and many kindred
utterances of modern poets, I mean only that the great truth,
so obscurely hinted by one, and so doubtingly asserted by the
other, had long before been more firmly grasped, and more
boldly proclaimed, by seers like Milton and Pope, and has in
our age been affirmed and systematically elucidated by the
calm, cogent reasoning of Ballou, the critical research of Balfour, the fervid eloquence of Chapin, and hundreds beside
them, until it is no longer a feeble hope, a tremnbling aspiration, a pleasing hypothesis, but an assured and joyful conviction. In its clear daylight, the hideous Inquisition, and all
kindred devices for torturing heretics, under a libellous pre
73 
74      RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
tence of zeal for God, shrink and cower in shame and terror;
the revolting gallows hides itself from public view, preliminary to its utter and final disappearance; and man, growing
ashamed of all cruelty and revenge, deals humanely with the
outcast, the pauper, the criminal, and the vanquished foe.
The overthrow of a rebellion is no longer the signal for
sweeping spoliation and massacre; the downfall of an ancient
tyranny like that of Naples is followed by no butchery of its
pertinacious upholders; and our earth begins to body forth and
mirror - but so slowly, so faintly! -the merciful doctrines
of the meek and loving Prince of Peace.
Perhaps I ought to add, that, with the great body of the
Universalists of our day (who herein differ from the earlier
pioneers in America of our faith), I believe that "our God
is one Lord," - that "though there be that are called gods,
as there be gods many and lords many, to us there is but one
God, the Father, of whom are all things, one Lord Jesus
Christ, by whom are all things";* and I find the relation
between the Father and the Saviour of mankind most fully
and clearly set forth in that majestic first chapter of Hebrews,
which I cannot see how any Trinitarian can ever have intently
read, without perceiving that its whole tenor and burden are
directly at war with his conception of "three persons in one
God." Nor can I see how Paul's express assertion, that "when
all things shall be subdued unto him, then shall the Son himself also be subject to Him that put all things under him, that
God may be all in all," t is to be reconciled with the more
popular creed. However, I war not upon others' convictions,
but rest satisfied with a simple statement of my own.
*  1 Cor. viii. 5, 6.
f 1 Cor. xv. 28. 
x.
A YEAR BY LAKE ERIE.
H EN  I entered Poultney, an aspirant to apprenticeship
in her printing-office, I knew no one of her citizens
or residents; when I left that place, after a quiet sojourn of a
little more than four years, I parted with many valued friends,
of whom all who survive still, I trust, remain such. I have
never since known a community so generally moral, intelligent, industrious, and friendly, -never one where so much
good was known, and so little evil said, of neighbor by neighbor. there is no single individual among the many whose
acquaintance I formed there, of whom I have other than a
kindly remembrance; while of nearly all those with whom I
was brought into immediate contact I cherish fervid and
grateful recollections.
The two-story wooden house, whence our Spectator was
issued, still stands on the east side of the street leading from
north to south, a few rods southeast of the Baptist meetinghouse, near the centre of the village green; but the printing
materials were packed up directly after I left, and have been
sold away,- I know not whither. No single number of a
journal has been issued from that town since I left it in
June, 1830.
A friend of like years accompanied me thence by wagon to
.Comstock's Landing, on the Champlain Canal, where we
waited, scarcely twelve miles from Poultney, through a dreary
day of pelting rain, for a line-boat from Whitehall, whereon
we crept snail-like to Troy, and thence, by another such conveyance, to Buffalo; though my friend stopped to look about 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
him not far westward of Rochester. I kept on by steamboat
on Lake'Erie to Dunkirk, and thence diagonally across Chautauqua County to my father's in Pennsylvania.
I think it was on this visit that I made my best day's walk,
-from Fredonia, through Mayville and Mina, to my father's,
which can hardly be less than forty miles now, and by the
zigzags we then made must have been considerably farther.
I have known my father to walk fifty-two miles in a day,that is, betwixt morning and midnight, -and I had made
thirty-six miles per day (from Salem, Washington County,
N. Y., to Westhaven) before I was fifteen years old; but I
caught a horseback ride for several miles of the distance. I
estimated the route I travelled from Fredonia to Wayne at
forty-five miles of bad road, equal to fifty of good. tIe who
will measure his walk by mile-stones, as I have done, will
discover that lively and persistent stepping, with no stopping
to chase butterflies, is required to make four miles per hour.
I have done this on the tow-path of the Delaware and RParitan
Canal; but the sweat started freely pretty early in the second
mile. Beginning at twenty-five miles per day, walking slowly,
but keeping pretty constantly in motion, you may add two to
three miles per day, till you have reached forty; all above
that, I judge, must, for most persons, involve exhaustive
fatigue. I once walked across a corner of Chautauqua Lake
when it was freshly frozen, and learned that walking on
smooth ice, no matter how firm and assured your tread, will
start the sweat on the coldest day, though you have been quite
cool enough while walking on hard, frozen ground.
The railroads have nearly killed pedestrianism, and I regret
it. Days of steady, solitary walking I have found most favorable to patient meditation. To study Nature profitably, you
must be left alone with her, - she does not unveil herself to
babbling, shouting crowds.  A walk of two or three hundred
miles in a calm, clear October, is one of the cheap and wholesome luxuries of life, as free to the poor as the rich. I do
not regard the modern student plan of tramping and caminping,
ten to twenty in a mess, as its fair equivalent. A solitary
76 
A YEAR BY LAKE ERIE.
walk of day after day is inevitably sober, quiet, thoughtful;
and the weary pedestrian washes his feverish feet and drops
asleep very soon after he has halted at night. An encampment of several pedestrians, whether in tent or tavern, is prone
to stories, songs, games, feasting, drinking, and often to boisterous hilarity, whereby rest is postponed or sacrificed, and
health imperilled. Of course, these evils are often shunned
or repelled; yet I would advise the young pedestrian, who
seeks mainly enjoyment, to travel with a single, well-chosen
friend; if his aim be meditation and self-improvement, let
him swing his pack and step off entirely alone.
I was once travelling in the company of a chance companion,
whom I had never seen before, and have not seen since, -a
man of perhaps forty years,.-when our route led us through
the village of Mayville, Chautauqua County, N.Y.   We were
in doubt as to our road beyond that village, and civilly inquired our way of a thrifty citizen whom we met. IHe looked
us well over, and, seeing that we were evidently of no account,
vouchsafed us never a word of reply, but passed us in utter
silence. We, too, walked on without remark, until, at length,
my companion broke the stillness with the abrupt observation:
"I am glad I have got to die some time."
I did not see the point, and looked inquiry.
"Because," he resumed, "that man has got to die just the
same as I have."
I saw.
On my first visit to my father's forest home, I had entered
the little hamlet termed Clymer,- then of four or five very
new houses, -just at dusk of a Saturday night, when I learned
that the log-cabin I sought was three miles away in a southwesterly course., "But you can't make your way to it tonight," I was very properly advised. I tried to hire some one
to guide me, but without success; there was no tavern to stay
at; so I took the track pointed out, and plunged into the
darkening woods. Half a mile on, the cart-tracks diverged;
and I took the more easterly and wrong one. I went on till
I found a log-cabin tenanted by a mother and her children,
77 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
who responded to my inquiries that they knew the way to
Zack Greeley's quite well, but that it was two miles off,
through dense woods, away from any road, and could not be
reached that night, especially as the two intervening cabins
stood tenantless, - their usual occupants having gone off to
work on the Pennsylvania State Canal, then being dug in the
vicinity of Meadville.  I was pressed to stay here till morning, and- there being no practicable alternative- consented.
The house was quite new, consisting of a single room, some
twenty by sixteen feet, and the logs of which it was built
were still so green that the fire was made close to one side,
on the bare earth, with no fireplace and no chimney save a
hole through the bark-covered roof. The man of the house
soon came home, and we all slept sweetly till morning, when
I made my way to my destination.
The cabin which my father had bought with his land was
a little better than that I have just described, but nothing to
brag of. My mother- born half a century after the log,-cabin
stage of Londonderry - could never be reconciled to this, nor
to either of the two rather better ones that the family tenanted
before it emerged into a poor sort of framed house. In fact,
she had plunged into the primitive forest too late in life, and
never became reconciled to the pioneer's inevitable discomforts.  The chimney of the best log-house, she insisted, would
smoke; and its roof, in a driving, drenching rain, would leak,
do what you might.  I think the shadow of the great woods
oppressed her from the hour she first entered them; and,
though removed but two generations from pioneer ancestors,
she was never reconciled to what thie less roughly bred must
always deem privations and hardships. I never caught the
old smile on her face, the familiar gladness in her mood, the
hearty joyfulness in her manner, from the day she entered
those woods until that of her death, nearly thirty years later,
in August, 1855. Though not yet sixty-eig,ht, she had for
years been worn out by hard work, and broken down in mind
and body. Those who knew her only in her later years, when
toil and trouble had gained the victory over her, never truly
knew her at all.
78 
A YEAR BY LAKE ERIE.
My father had fot many years- perhaps from boyhoodfixed his affections on Western Pennsylvania as his ultimate
home, and the region to which his footsteps were at length
directed is essentially a good one. Situated on high, moderately rolling land, just across the line from Clymer, Clhautauqua County, N. Y., in Erie County, Pa., two miles from the
line of Warren County, the region is healthy and the soil
strong, though better adapted to grass than to grain.  He
never wished to move again. Still, it was a mistake, at his
time of life, to plunge so deep into the primitive forest. The
giant timber - Beech, Maple, Hemlock, Elm, Ash, Basswood,
&c. - yielded very slowly to his axe; he and my brother
were often a full WVinter month in chopping off an acre; and
logging up and burning made another serious job; still leaving
the soil cold with green roots, and deformed by an eruption
of stumps, which must be allowed years wherein to rot out.
A wealthy pioneer, who can pay for slashing or winrowing
forty to eighty acres at once of timber when in full leaf, and
can afford to let it lie untouched for a full year (better still,
two years), and then put fire into it when favored by a dry
spell and a good breeze, then log off and put it into grain
forthwith, may clear at a third of the cost to, and have his land
in far better condition than the poor settler, who must burn
up his timber green, because he needs the land to till, and
cannot afford to lay out of the fruits of his labor for years.
Thus, a poor man hews a farm out of the great woods at more
than twice the proper cost, and injures the soil by the process. I presume my folks gave two thousand days' work to
gathering ashes from their burned log-heaps, and leaching
them into "Black Salts " (the base of Pot and Pearl Ashes),
because they must have wherewith to pay store-bills, though
the product did not give fifty cents' return for each fair day's
work, and the removal of the ashes impoverished the soil by
more than they brought. But the crops grown among green
roots, in a small excavation from a vast, tall forest, are precarious and scanty at best, being preyed upon by pigeons in
myriads, and by all manner of four-footed beasts; and the
79 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
pioneer's family must somehow live while he slowly transforms the stubborn wilderness into fruitful fields and orchards.
After spending some weeks at home, I sought work at my
trade in various directions: finding a little first at Jamestown,
N. Y., and, after an interval, more at Lodi (now Gowanda),
Cattaraugus County, where I received $-11 per month for six
weeks; but my employer could afford to hire a journeyman
no longer; and I thence walked home across Chautauqua
County, about January 1, 1831, and remained a full month
-a bitter cold one- chopping with my father and brother,
but not very efficiently nor satisfactorily. Fully convinced
that the life of a pioneer was one to which I was poorly
adapted, I made one more effort to resume my chosen calling.
Having already exhausted the possibilities in the printing
line of Chautauqua County, I now visited Erie, Pa., where I
found work in the office of The Erie Gazette, and was retained
at $ 15 per month well into the ensuing summer.
This was the first newspaper whereon I was employed that
made any money for its owner, and thus had a pecuniary
value. It had been started twenty years or so before, when
borough and county were both thinly peopled, almost wholly
by poor young men, and it had grown with the vicinage until
it had a substantial, profitable patronage. Its proprietor, Mr.
Joseph M. Sterrett, now in the prime of life, had begun on The
Gazette as a boy, and grown up with it into general consideration and esteem; his journeymen and apprentices'boarded at
his house, as was fit; and I spent here five months industriously and agreeably.  Though still a raw youth of twenty
years, and knowing no one in the borough when I thus entered
it, I made acquaintances tihere who are still valued friends;
and, before I left, I was offered a partnership in the concern;
which, though I had reasons for declining, was none the less
flattering as a mark of appreciation and confidence.  Mr.
Sterrett has' since represented his district acceptably in the
Senate of Pennsylvania, has received other proofs of the trust
80 
A YEAR BY LAKE ERIE.
ful regard of his fellow-citizens; and, though he has retired
from The Gazette, still lives in the enjoyment of competence
and general esteem.
Erie dwells in my memory as. a place which started with
too sanguine expectations, and was thus exposed to a sudden
check, from which it has never fully recovered. From time
to time, its early dreams of greatness have been revived by a
State canal, by railroads, by coal-mines, and at length by the
oil developments of the Titusville region not far south of it;
but they have never been fully realized. It was rather a
busy borough for its size in 1831; it is much larger and more
important now; yet it has seen Buffalo, Cleveland, Toledo, on
either side, rise above it like meteors, and not merely achieve
a preeminence, but retain it.  I fancy it must have ceased
even to dream of coming grandeur by this time.
The quality for which its people were most remarkable in
1831 was an intense addiction to partisan strife. An ardent
politician from' childhood, I was fairly appalled by the assiduity and vehemence wherewith political controversy was prosecuted by nearly every man and boy I met in Erie. I have
seen individual politicians elsewhere who could never set eyes
on a stranger without mentally measuring up the' feet and
inches of party capital that might be made out of him; but
politics in Erie seemed the universal and engrossing topic, to
an extent and in a degree I have never known paralleled.
Possibly, however, there was a temporary frenzy on the subject while I stayed there, from which her people have long
since recovered. At all events, I will hope so.
At length, work failed at The Gazette office, and I was constrained to take a fresh departure. No printing-office in all
that region wanted a journeyman. The West seemed to be
laboring under a surfeit of printers. One was advertised for
to take charge of a journal at Wilkesbarre, Pa., and I applied
for the place, but failed to secure it. I would gladly have
given faithful labor at case and press through some years yet
6
81 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
for $15 per month and board, or even less; but it was not to
be had. So, upon full consideration, I decided to turn my
steps toward the Commercial Emporium, while still considerably younger than I would have preferred to be on making
such a venture.  Paying a parting visit to my father's, under
the reasonable expectation that my next absence would be a
long one, I divided with him my Erie earnings, and, with $ 25
in my pocket, and very little extra clothing in my bundle, I
set my face toward New York.
It was now midsummer, -dry and hot.  I had but one
friend on my rather long route, and I resolved to pay him a
visit. HIe lived at Gaines, nearly forty miles westward of
Rochester; and I traversed on foot the dusty "ridge road"
eastward from Lockport the day before I reached him. That
day was quite hot, and the water I was incessantly compelled
to drink seemed very hard; by nightfall, I fancied that it had
covered my mouth and throat with a scale like that often
found incrusting a long-used tea-kettle.   The region was
gently rolling and very fertile; but I should have more
enjoyed a saunter over New England hills and rocks, sweetened by draughts from New England wells and springs.
It was Saturday night when I reached my friend, and I
remained with him till Sunday afternoon, when we walked
down to the canal, and waited long for a boat. None came
till after nightfall, when I dismissed my friend, confident that
a boat must soon appear. After waiting in vain till near
midnight, I started down the tow-path, and walked through
the pitchy darkness to Brockport, some fifteen miles. Repeatedly, the head-light of a boat moving westward came in
sight, when I was obliged to plunge down the often rugged,
briery, off-bank of the tow-path, to avoid being caught by the
tow-line and hauled into the not quite transparent and nowise
inviting "drink." Though the almanac made that night short,
it seemed to me quite long; and I very gladly hailed and
boarded at Brockport a line-boat heading eastward.   My
sleepy tendencies amused my fellow-passengers thence to
Rochester, to whom  "sparking Sunday night" afforded a
ready and natural explanation.
82 
XI.
MY FIRST EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK.
EACHING  Schenectady from Buffalo by line-boat,      my sixth and last journey on "the raging canal,"- I
debarked about 6 P. M., and took the turnpike for Albany. I
think a railroad between the two cities first and last named
was completed soon afterward; but I believe not a mile of
iron track was then operated in the State, if (in fact) anywhere
in America, save the little affair constructed to freight granite
from the quarry at Quincy, Mass., to Boston. Night fell when
I was about half-way over; so I sought rest in one of the
many indifferent taverns that then lined the turnpike in question, and was directed to sleep in an ante-room through which
people were momently passing; I declined, and, gathering up
my handful of portables, walked on.  Half a mile farther, I
found another tavern, not quite so inhospitable, and managed
to stay in it till morning; when I rose and walked on to
Albany. Having never been in that city before, I missed the
nearest way to the day-boat, and when I reached the landing
it was two or three lengths on its way to New York, having
left at 7 A. M. I had no choice but. to wait for another, which
started at 10 A. M., towing a barge on either side, and reached,
in twenty hours, the emporium, where I; after a good view of
the city as we passed it down the river, was landed near
Whitehall at 6 A. M.
New York was then about one third of her present size; but
her business was not one fourth so great as now; and her real
size - counting her suburbs, and considering the tens of
thousands who find employment in and earn subsistence here, 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
though sleeping outside of her chartered limits- was not one
fifth that of 1867. No single railroad pointed toward her
wharves. No line of ocean steamers brought passengers to
her hotels, nor goods to her warehouses, from any foreign port.
In the mercantile world, her relative rank was higher, but her
absolute importance was scarcely greater, than that of Rio
Janeiro or San Francisco is to-day. Still, to my eyes, which
had never till yesterday gazed on a city of even 20,000 inhabitants, nor seen a sea-going vessel, her miles square of
mainly brick or stone houses, and her furlongs of masts and
yards, afforded ample incitement to a wonder and admiration
akin to awe.
It was, if I recollect aright, the 17th of August, 1831.  I
was twenty years old the preceding February; tall, slender,
pale, and plain, with ten dollars in my pocket, Summer clothing worth perhaps as much more, nearly all on my back, and
a decent knowledge of so much of the art of printing as a boy
will usually learn in the office of a country newspaper. But
. knew no human being within two hundred miles, and my
unmistakably rustic manner and address did not favor that
immediate command of remunerating employment which was
my most urgent need. However, the world was all before
me; my personal estate, tied up in a pocket-handkerchief, did
not at all encumber me; and I stepped lightly off the boat,
and away from the detested hiss of escaping steam, walking
into and up Broad Street in quest of a boardinghouse. I
found and entered one at or near the corner of Wall; but the
price of board given me was $ 6 per week; so I did not need
the giver's candidly kind suggestion that I would probably
prefer one where the charge was more moderate. Wandering
thence, I cannot say how, to the North River side, I halted
next at 168 West Street, where the sign of "Boarding" on a
humbler edifice fixed my  attention.   I entered, and was
offered shelter and subsistence at $2.50 per week, which
seemed more rational, and I closed the bargain.
My host was Mr. Edward McGolrick; his place quite as
much grog-shop as boarding-house; but it was quietly, decently
84 
MY FIRST EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK.
kept while I stayed in it, and he and his family were kind
and friendly. I regret to add that liquor proved his ruin not
many years afterward. My first day in New York was a
Friday, and, the family being RPoman Catholic, no meat was
eaten or provided, which I understood; but when Sunday
evening was celebrated by unlimited card-playing in that
same house, my traditions were decidedly jarred. I.do not
imply that my observances were better or worse than my
host's, but that they were different.
Having breakfasted, I began to ransack the city for work,
and, in my total ignorance, traversed many streets where none
could possibly be found. In the course of that day and the
next, however, I must have visited fully two thirds of the
printing-offices on Manhattan Island, without a gleam of success. It was midsummer, when business in New York is
habitually dull; and my youth, and unquestionable air of
country greenness, must have told against me.  When I called
at The Journal of Commerce, its editor, Mr. David Hale, bluntly
told me I was a runaway apprentice from some country office;
which was a very natural, though mistaken, presumption. I
returned to my lodging on Saturday evening, thoroughly
weary, disheartened, disgusted with New York, and resolved
to shake its dust from my feet next Monday morning, while
I could still leave with money in my pocket, and before its
almshouse could foreclose upon me.
But that was not to be. On Sunday afternoon and evening several young Irishmen called at McGolrick's, in their
holiday saunterings about town; and, being told that I was a
young printer in quest of work, interested themselves in my
effort, with the spontaneous  kindness of their race.   One
among them happened to know a.place where printers were
wanted, and gave me the requisite direction; so that, on
visiting the designated spot next morning, I readily found
employment; and thus, when barely three days a resident, I
had found anchorage in New York.
The printing establishment was John T. West's, over
McElrath and Bangs's publishing-house, 85 Chatham Street,
85 
RECOLLEC'lIONiS OF A BUSY LIPE.
and the work was at my call simply because no printer who
knew the city would accept it. It was the composition of a
very small (32mo) New Testament, in double columns, of
Agate type, each column barely 12 ems wide, with a centre
column of notes in Pearl, only 4 ems wide; the text thickly
studded with references by Greek and superior letters to the
notes, which of course were preceded and discriminated by
corresponding indices, with prefatory and supplementary remarks on each Book, set in Pearl, and only paid for as Agate.
The type was considerably smaller than any to which I had
been accustomed; the narrow measure and thickly sown Italics
of the text, with the strange characters employed as indices,
rendered it the slowest, and by far the most difficult, work I
had ever undertaken; while the making up, proving, and
correcting twice, and even thrice over, preparatory to stereotyping, nearly doubled the time required for ordinary composition. I was never a swift type-setter; I aimed to be an
assiduous and correct one; but my proofs on this work at first
looked as though they had caught the chicken-pox, and were
in the worst stage of a profuse eruption. For the first two or
three weeks, being sometimes kept waiting for letter, I scarcely
made my board; while, by diligent type-sticking through
twelve to fourteen hours per day, I was able, at my best, to
earn but five to six dollars per week. As scarcely another
compositor could be induced to work on it more than two
days, I had this job in good part to myself; and I persevered
to the end of it. I had removed, very soon after obtaining it,
to Mrs. Mason's shoemaker boardinghouse at the corner of
Chatham and Duane Streets, nearly opposite my work; so
that I was enabled to keep doing nearly all the time I did not
need for meals and sleep. When it was done, I was out of
work for a fortnight, in spite of my best efforts to find more;
so I attended, as an unknown spectator, the sittings of the
Tariff Convention, which was held at the American Institute,
north end of the City Hall Park, and presided over by Hon.
William Wilkins, of Pittsburg, Pa. I next found work in
Ann Street, on a short-lived monthly, where my pay was not 
MY FIRST EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK.
forthcoming; and the next month saw me back at West's,
where a new work - a commentary on the Book of Genesis,
by Rev. George Bush -had come in; and I worked on it
throughout. The chirography was blind; the author made
many vexatious alterations in proof; the page was small and
the type close; but, though the reverse of fat, in printers'
jargon, it was not nearly so abominably lean as the Testament;
and I regretted to reach the end of it. When I did, I was
again out of work, and seriously meditated seeking employment at something else than printing; but the Winter was a
hard one, and business in New York stagnant to an extent
not now conceivable.  I think it was early in December, when
a "cold snap" of remarkable severity closed the Hudson, and
sent up the price of coal at a bound to $ 16 per ton, while the
cost of other necessaries of life took a kindred but less considerable elevation. Our city stood as if besieged till Spring
relieved her; and it was much the same every Winter.
Mechanics and laborers lived awhile on the scanty savings of
the preceding Summer and Autumn; then on such credit as
they could wring from grocers and landlords, till milder
weather brought them work again. The earnings of good
mechanics did not average $ 8 per week in 1831- 32, while they
are now double that sumi; and living is not twice as dear as
it then was. Meat may possibly be; but Bread is not; Fuel is
not; Clothing is not; while travel is cheaper; and our little cars
have enabled working-men to live two or three miles from
their work without serious cost or inconvenience; thus bringing Yorkville or Green Point practically as near to Maiden
Lane or Broad Street as Greenwich or the Eleventh Ward was.
Winter is relatively dull now, but not nearly so stagnant as
it formerly was. In spite of an inflated currency and high
taxes, it is easier now for a working-man to earn his living in
New York than it was thirty to forty years ago.
About the 1st of January, 1832, I found employment on
The Spirit of the Times, a weekly paper devoted to sporting intelligence, then started by Messrs. William T. Porter and James
Howe, two young printers, of whom the former, if not both,
87 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
had worked with me at West's the previous Fall. I think it
was a little after midnight, on the 1st of January, 1832, that
we compositors delivered. the forms of the first number into
the hands of the pressmen in an upper story in Fulton Street.
The concern migrated to Wall Street the next March, finding
a location very near the present site of thle Merchants' Exchange; and I clung to it through the ensuing Spring and
Summer; its foreman, Francis V. Story, being nearly of my
own age, and thenceforth my devoted friend. But the founders
and editors were also quite young; they were inexperienced
in their calling, without capital or influential friends, having
recently drifted from the country to the city much as I did;
and their paper did not pay,- I know it was difficult to make
it pay me,- especially through the dreary cholera Summer of
1832. The disease was then new to the civilized world, while
the accounts of its recent ravages in the far East were calculated to appall the stoutest heart; the season was sultry, the
city filthy, and the water we drank such as should breed a
pestilence at any time.  New  York had long enjoyed and
deserved the reputation of having worse water than any other
city of its size on earth; and the loose, porous sands whereon
it was built rendered this fluid more and more detestable as
the city grew larger and older. I am glad that it was my
privilege to vote soon afterward for the introduction of the
Croton, which I did right heartily, though a good many opposed it (some of them voting "Brandy"); two of the Wards,
tenanted mainly by poor men, giving inajorities against it.
Twelve years intervened betwixt that vote and our celebration to welcome the actual introduction of the water, - the
fluid we drew from the wells growing steadily more and more
repulsive and unwholesome; but the glad day came at last;
and New York has ever since been a more eligible, healthful
residence for rich or poor than it previously was.
We have had cholera and other epidemics since; but our
city has never since been paralyzed as it was in the Summer
of 1832. Those who could mainly left us; scarcely any one
entered the city; trade was dead, and industry languished
88 
MY FIRST EXPERIENCES IN NEW YORK.
during that fatal Summer. I think I sometimes met two, if
not three, palanquins, bearing cholera patients to some hospital, in my short walk from dinner in Chatham Street to my
work in Wall Street. One died at my boarding-house., I
believe nearly all experienced symptoms of the plague, though
it was most common and most fatal with those debilitated by
intemperance or some form of sensual excess. But it passed
off as cool evenings came on; our fugitives and our business
came back to us; and all, save the dead and the bereaved,
was as before.
In October I paid a visit, via Providence and Boston, to my
relatives in New Hampshire; walking over the lower part of
that State from Londonderry into eastern Vermont, and as far
north as Newport, which I entered after dark of a stormy evening, having walked from Claremont (nine miles) in a rain, at
first gentle, but steadily increasing to the last. I never enter,
as a stranger, a private house if I can avoid it; and I kept
hoping to see a tavern-sign until I was so wet that it was of
no consequence. When at last I reached the village, where
I expected (but failed) to find an uncle living, it proved to be
court-week, with the two taverns crowded to overflowing.
Making my way through a thick cloud of tobacco-smoke to
the office of one, I procured a remnant of supper, and part of
a bed in a private house at some distance, where I threw off
my wet clothes and slept. In the morning, my clothes all
responded to the call to duty till it came to my short boots;
these utterly refused, until I had taken off my wet socks and
thrust them into my pockets, when the boots were barely
persuaded to resume their only serviceable position. I took
breakfast, paid my bill, and walked off, in the frosty morning
air, considerably less supple-jointed than one should be at oneand-twenty. I never saw this New Hampshire Newport before, and have not seen it since.
My relatives being pretty widely scattered, I had occasion
to traverse southwestern New Hampshire in various directions; and I saw more of that State than ever before or
since. I started, one clear, frosty morning, from Francestown,
89 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
taking a mountainous by-way to Stoddard; and, as I recollect,
I did not see a hundred acres of really arable soil in travelling
twelve to fifteen miles. There was some rugged pasturage;
but Hemlock and White Birch, alternating with naked rocks
and mountain tarns or petty lakes, generally monopolized
the prospect.   I met one poor soul who had a horse and
wagon, and heartily pitied him.  He could rarely ride, while
my walk was far easier and less anxious than his.
Preaching Stoddard (a small village half-way up a high
hill), I stepped into a convenient tavern, and called for dinner.
My breakfast had been quite early; the keen air and rough
walk had freshened my appetite; I was shown into a dinin,groom with a well-spread table in the centre, and left to help
myself. There were steaks, chickens, tea, coffee, pies, &e., and
I did ample justice to all.  "What is to pay?" I asked the
landlord, on reentering the bar-room.   "Dinner 183 cents," he
replied. I laid down the required sum, and stepped off, mentally resolving that I would, in mercy to that tavern, never
patronize it again.
I returned by the way I went; walking from Providence
across to Norwich, Conn., where I took steamboat, and arrived
in New York on the second of our three days of State election. I gave my vote right heartily for the anti-Jackson
ticket, but without avail,-  Jackson being overwhelmingly
reelected, with Marcy over Granger for Governor. I soon
found work which paid fairly at the stereotyping establishment of J. S. Redfield, and was there employed till the close
of that year, when an opportunity presented for commencing
business on my own account, which I improved, as will be
set forth in my next chapter.
90 
XII.
GETTING INTO BUSINESS.
AVING  been fairly driven to New York two or three
years earlier than I deemed desirable, I was in like
manner impelled to undertake the responsibilities of business
while still in my twenty-second year. My friend Story, barely
older than myself, but far better acquainted with city ways,
having been for many years the only son of a poor widow,
and accustomed to struggling with difficulties, had already
conceived the idea of starting a printery, and offering me a
partnership in the enterprise. His position in Wall Street, on
The Spirit of the Times, made him acquainted with MAr. S. J.
Sylvester, then a leading broker and seller of lottery-tickets,
who issued a weekly "Bank-Note Reporter," largely devoted
to the advertising of his own business, and who offered my
friend the job of printing that paper. Story was also intimate
with Dr. W. Beach, who, in addition to his medical practice,
dabbled considerably in ink, and at whose office my friend
made  the acquaintance  of a  young graduate, Dr. IH. D.
Shepard, who was understood to have money, and who was intenit on bringing out a cheap daily paper, to be sold about the
streets, -  then a novel idea,-  daily papers being presumed
desirable only for mercantile men, and addressed exclusively
to their wants and tastes. Dr. Shepard had won over my
friend to a belief in the practicability of his project; and the
latter visited me at my work and my lodging, urging me to
unite with him in starting a printery on the strength of Mr.
Sylvester's and Dr. Shepard's proffered work. I hesitated,
having very little means,- for I had sent a good part of my
I 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
past year's scanty savings to aid my father in his struggle
with the stubborn wilderness; but Story's enthusiastic con fidence at length triumphed over my distrust; we formed a
partnership, hired part of two rooms already devoted to print ing, on the southwest corner of Nassau and Liberty Streets
(opposite our city's present post-office), spending our little all
(less than $ 200), and stretching our credit to the utmost,, for
the requisite materials. I tried Mr. James Conner, the extensive type-founder in Ann Street, - having a very slight acquaintance with him, formed in the course of frequent visits
to his foundry in quest of "sorts" (type found deficient in
the several offices for which I had worked at one time or
another),-but he, after hearing me patiently, decided not to
credit me six months for the $ 40 worth of type I wanted of
him; and he did right, - my exhibit did not justify my
request. I went directly thence to Mr. George Bruce, the
older and wealthier founder, in Chambers Street,- made the
same exhibit, and was allowed by him the credit I asked; and
that purchase has since secured to his concern the sale of not
less than $ 50,000 worth of type. I think he must have noted
something in my awkward, bashful ways, that impelled him
to take the risk.
The Morning Post -Dr. Shepard's two-cent daily, which
he wished to sell for one cent - was issued on the 1st of
January, 1833. Nobody in New York reads much (except
visitor's cards) on New Year's Day; and that one happened
to be very cold, with the streets much obstructed by a fall of
snow throughout the preceding night. Projectors of newspapers in those days, though expecting other people to advertise in their columns, did not comprehend that they also must
advertise, or the public will never know that their bantling has
been ushered into existence; and Dr. Shepard was too poor to
give his sheet the requisite publicity, had he understood the
matter. He was neither a writer nor a man of affairs; had
no editors, no reporters worth naming, no correspondents, and
no exchanges even; he fancied that a paper would sell, if
remarkable for cheapness, though remarkable also for the
92 
GETTING INTO BUSINESS.
absence of every other desirable quality. Hie was said to
have migrated, while a youth, from New Jersey to New York,
with $ 1,500 in cash; if he did, his capital must have nearly
all melted away before he had issued his first number. Though
his enterprise involved no outlay of capital by him, and his
weekly outgoes were less than $200, he was able to meet
them for a single week only, while his journal obtained a circulation of but two or three hundred copies. Finally, he
reduced its price to one cent; but the public would not buy
it even at that, and we printers, already considerably in debt
for materials, were utterly unable to go on beyond the second
or third week after the publisher had stopped paying. Thus
the first cheap-for-cash daily in New York-perhaps in the
world - died when scarcely yet a month old; and we printers
were hard aground on a lee shore, with little prospect of
getting off.
We were saved from sudden bankruptcy by the address of
my partner, who had formed the acquaintance of a wealthy,
eccentric Briton, named Schols, who had a taste for editorial
life, and who was somehow induced to buy the wreck of The
Morning Post, remove it to an office of his own, and employ
Story as foreman.  He soon tired of his thriftless, profitless
speculation, and threw it up; but we had meantime surmounted our embarrassments by the help of the little money
he paid for a portion of our materials and for my partner's
services. Meantime, the managers of the New York lotteries,
then regularly drawn under State auspices, had allowed a
portion of their letter-press printing to follow Mr. Sylvester's
into our concern, and were paying us very fairly for it; I
doing most of the composition.' For two or three months
after Dr. Shepard's collapse, I was frequently sent for to work
as a substitute in the composing-room of The Commercial
Advertiser, not far from our shop; and I was at length offered
a regular situation there; but our business had by this time
so improved that I was constrained to decline.  Working early
and late, and looking sharply on every side for jobs, we were
beginning to make decided headway, when my partner was
93; 
94      RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
drowned (July 9, 1833) while bathing in the East River
near his mother's residence in Brooklyn, and I bitterly mourned
the loss of my nearest and dearest friend. His place in the
concern was promptly taken by another young printer, a
friend of the bereaved family, Mr. Jonas Winchester, who
soon married Story's oldest sister; and we thus went on, with
moderate but steady prosperity, until the ensuing Spring,
when we issued (March 22, 1834), without premonitory
sound of trumpet, THE NEW-YORKER, a large, fair, and cheap
weekly folio (afterward changed to a double quarto), devoted
mainly to current literature, but giving regularly a digest of
all important news, including a careful exhibit and summary
of election returns and other political intelligence. I edited
and made up this paper, while my partner took charge of our
more profitable jobbing business.
The New-Yorker was issued under my supervision, its editorials written, its selections made, for the most part, by me,
for seven years and a half from the date just given. Though
not calculated to enlist partisanship or excite enthusiasm, it
was at length extensively liked and read. It began with
scarcely a dozen subscribers; these steadily increased to nine
thousand; and it might, under better business management,
(perhaps I should add, at a more favorable time,) have proved
profitable and permanent. That it did not was mainly owing
to these circumstances: 1. It was not extensively advertised
at the start, and at least annually thereafter, as it should have
been. 2. It was never really published, though it had half a
dozen nominal publishers in succession. 3. It was sent to
subscribers on credit, and a large share of them never paid for
it, and never will, while the cost of collecting from others ate
up the proceeds. 4. The machinery of railroads, expresses,
news companies, news offices, &c., whereby literary periodicals
are now mainly disseminated, did not then exist. I believe
that just such a paper, issued to-day, properly published and
advertised, would obtain a circulation of one hundred thousand
in less time than was required to give The New-Yorker scarcely
a tithe of that aggregate, and would make money for its 
GETTING INTO BUSINESS.
owners, instead of nearly starving them, as mine did. I was
worth at least $ 1,500 when it was started; I worked hard
and lived frugally throughout its existence; it subsisted for
the first two years on the profits of our job-work; when I,
deeming it established, dissolved with my partner, he taking
the jobbing business and I The New-Yorker, which held its
own pretty fairly thenceforth till the Commercial Revulsion
of 1837 swept over the land, whelming it and me in the general ruin. I had married in 1836 (July 5th), deeming myself
worth $5,000, and the master of a business which would
thenceforth yield me for my labor at least $1,000'per annum;
but, instead of that, or of any income at all, I found myself
obliged, throughout 1837, to confront a net loss of about $100
per week, -my income averaging $100, and my inevitable
expenses $ 200. It was in vain that I appealed to delinquents
to pay up; many of them migrated; some died; others were
so considerate as to order the paper stopped, but very few of
these paid; and I struggled on against a steadily rising tide
of adversity that might have appalled a stouter heart. Often
did I call on this or that friend with intent to solicit a small
loan to meet some demand that could no longer be postponed
nor evaded, and, after wasting a precious hour, leave him,
utterly unable to broach the loathsome topic. I have borrowed $ 500 of a broker late on Saturday, and paid him $ 5
for the use of it till Monday morning, when I somehow contrived to return it. Most gladly would I have terminated the
struggle by a surrender; but, if I had failed to pay my notes
continually falling due, I must have paid money for my weekly
supply of paper, -so that would have availed nothing. To
have stopped my journal (for I could not give it away) would
have left me in debt, beside my notes for paper, from fifty
cents to two dollars each, to at least three thousand subscribers
who had paid in advance; and that is the worst kind of bankruptcy. If any one would have taken my business and debts
off my hands, upon my giving him my note for $2,000, I
would have jumped at the chance, and tried to work out the
debt by setting type, if nothing better offered. If it be sug
95 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
gested that my whole indebtedness was at no time more than
$ 5,000 to $ 7,000, I have only to say that even $ 1,000 of
debt is ruin to him who keenly feels his obligation to fulfil
every engagement, yet is utterly without the means of so
doing, and who finds himself dragged each week a little deeper
into hopeless insolvency.  To be hungry, ragged, and penniless is not pleasant; but this is nothing to the horrors of
bankruptcy.  All the wealth of the PRothschilds would be a
poor recompense for a five years' struggle with the consciousness that you had taken the money or property of trusting
friends,- promising to return or pay for it when required,
and had betrayed their confidence through insolvency.
I dwell on this point, for I would deter others from entering that place of torment. Half the young men in the country, with many old enough to know better, would "go into
business" -that is, into debt   to-morrow, if they could.
Most poor men are so ignorant as to envy the merchant or
manufacturer whose life is an incessant struggle with pecuniavy difficulties, who is driven to constant "shinning," and
who, from month to month, barely evades that insolvency
which sooner or later overtakes most men in business; so
that it has been computed that but one in twenty of them
achieve a pecuniary success. For my own part, - and I
speak from sad experience, - I would rather be a convict in
a State prison, a slave in a rice-swamp, than to pass through
life under the harrow of debt. Let no young man misjudge
himself unfortunate, or truly poor, so long as he has the full
use of his limbs and faculties, and is substantially free from
debt. Hunger, cold, rags, hard work, contempt, suspicion,
unjust reproach, are disagreeable; but debt is infinitely worse
than them all. And, if it had pleased God to spare either or
all of my sons to be the support and solace of my declining
years, the lesson which I should have most earnestly sought
to impress upon them is, -" Never run into debt! Avoid
pecuniary obligation as you would pestilence or famine. If
you have but fifty cents, and can get no more for a week, buy 
a peck of corn, parch it, and live on it, rather than owe any
96 
GETTING INTO BUSINESS.
man a dollar!" Of course, I know that some men must do
business that involves risks, and must often give notes and
other obligations, and I do not consider him really in debt
who can lay his hands directly on the means of paying, at
some little sacrifice, all he owes; I speak of real debt,- that
which involves risk or sacrifice on the one side, obligation
and dependence on the other,-  and I say, From all such, let
every youth humbly pray God to preserve him evermore!
When I at length stopped The New-Yorker (September 20,
1841), though poor enough, I provided for making good all I
owed to its subscribers who had paid in advance, and shut up
its books whereon were inscribed some $10,000 owed me in
sums of $1 to $10 each, by men to whose service I had
faithfully devoted the best years of my life, -years that,
though full of labor and frugal care, might have been happy
had they not been made wretched by those men's dishonesty.
They took my journal, and probably read it; they promised
to pay for it, and defaulted; leaving me to pay my papermaker, type-founder, journeymen, &c., as I could. My only
requital was a sorely achieved but wholesome lesson. I had
been thoroughly burned out, only saving my books, in the
great Ann Street fire (August 12, 1835); I was burned out
again in February, 1845; and, while the destruction was
complete, and the insurance but partial, I had the poor consolation, that the account-books of The New-Yorker -which
I had never opened since I first laid them away, but which
had been an eye-sore and a reminder of evil days whenever I
stumbled upon them - were at length dissolved in smoke
and flame, and lost to sight for ever.
7
97 
XIII.
TEMPERANCE IN ALL THINGS.
N  the first day of January, 1824, while living in West      haven, Vermont, I deliberately resolved to drink no
more distilled liquors.  At this time I had heard of persons
who had made a kindred resolve, but I had not known one.
I had probably heard that Temperance societies had somewhere been formed, though I do not now distinctly recollect
the circumstance. I believe the first American society that
adopted the principle of Total Abstinence- at least from
distilled liquors -had been organized in a rural township
of Saratoga County, N.Y., in 1817; but the American Temperance Society was yet unknown, and did not adopt the
principle of Total Abstinence from Alcoholic Beverages until
1833.
Whiskey and Tobacco were the universal luxuries - I
might say the poor man's only luxuries - in Vermont, as
Ptum had been in New Hampshire. The apple-tree flourished
-luxuriantly, and bore abundantly on the virgin soils wherein
it was generally planted, and while each settler's "clearing"
was shut in by the grand old woods which softened the
harsher winds and obstructed the dissemination of fruitdestroying insects. Good peaches were grown in southern
New Hampshire fifty years ago; whereas they can no longer
be produced, save rarely and scantily, in southern New York.
Cider was, next to water, the most abundant and the cheapest
fluid to be had in New Hampshire, while I lived there,often selling for a' dollar per barrel. In many a family of six
or eight persons, a barrel tapped on Saturday barely lasted a 
TEMPERANCE IN ALL THINGS.
fill week. Whoever dropped in of an evening expected to
be treated to cider; a mug, once emptied, was quickly refilled;
and so on, till every one was about as full as he could hold.
The transition from cider to warmer and more potent stimulants was easy and natural; so that whole families died
drunkards and vagabond paupers from the impetus first given
by cider-swilling in their rural homes.
I believe I was five years old when my grandfather Woodburn's house in Londonderry was, one Winter day, filled with
relatives, gathered, in good part, from Deering, Windham, and
from Vermont towns originally settled from the old hive;
who, after dinner, departed in their sleighs to visit some
other relative, taking our old folks with them, and leaving
but three or four little boys of us to keep house till their
return. A number of half-smoked cigars had been left on
the mantel, and some evil genius suggested to us tow-headed
urchins that it would be smart and clever to indulge in a
general smoke. Like older fools, we went in; and I was
soon the sickest mortal on the face of this planet. I cannot
say as to my comrades in this folly; but that half-inch of
cigar-stump will last me all my life, though its years should
outnumber Methuselah's. For a decade thereafter, it was
often my filial duty to fill and light my mother's pipe, when
she had lain down for her after-dinner nap; and she, having
taken it, would hold it and talk till the fire had gone out, so
-that it must again be lighted and drawn till the tobacco was
well ignited; hence I know that, if I had not been proof
against narcotic seduction, I should have learned to like the
soothing weed; but I never used, nor wished to use, it as a
sedative or a luxury after my one juvenile and thoroughly
conclusive experiment. From that hour to this, the chewing,
smoking, or snuffing of tobacco has seemed to me, if not the
most pernicious, certainly the vilest, most detestable abuse
of his corrupted sensual appetites whereof depraved Man is
capable.
In my childhood, there was no merry-making, there was
no entertainment of relatives or friends, there was scarcely
* 1.
~...:
I I
. I
99 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
a casual gathering of two or three neighbors for an evening's
social chat, without strong drink. Cider, always, while it
remained drinkable without severe contortions of visage;
Rum at all seasons and on all occasions, were required and
provided. No house or barn was raised without a bountiful
supply of the latter, and generally of both. A wedding
without "toddy," "flip," "sling," or "punch," with rum  undisguised in abundance, would have been deemed a poor,
mean affair, even among the penniless; while the more fortunate and thrifty of course dispensed wine, brandy, and gin
in profusion. Dancing -almost the only pastime wherein
the sexes jointly participated -was always enlivened and
stimulated by liquor. Militia trainings- then rigidly enforced at least twice a year -usually wound up with a
drinking frolic at the village tavern. Election days were
drinking days, as they still too commonly are; and even
funerals were regarded as inadequately celebrated without
the dispensing of spirituous consolation: so that I distinctly
recollect the neighborhood talk, in 1820, after the funeral of
a poor man's child, that, if he had not been mean as well as
poor, he would have cheered the hearts of his sympathizing
friends by treating them to at least one gallon of rum.   I
have heard my father say that he had mowed through the
haying season of thirty successive years, and never a day
without liquor; and the account of an Irishman who mowed
and pitched throughout one haying, drinking only buttermilk, while his associates drank rum, yet accomplished more,
and with less fatigue, than any of them, was received with
as much wondering incredulity as though it had been certified
that he lived wholly on air. Nay: we had an ordination in
Amherst nearly fifty years ago, settling an able and popular
young clergyman named Lord (I believe he is now the venerable ex-President of Dartmouth College) to the signal satisfaction of the great body of our people; and, according to my
recollection, strong drink was more generally and bountifully
dispensed than on any previous occasion: bottles and glasses
being set on tables in front of many farmers' houses as an in
...*  *
100 
TEMPERANCE IN ALL THINGS.
vitation to those who passed on their way to or from the installation to stop and drink freely. We have worse liquor now
than we had then; and delirium tremens, apoplexy, palsy, &c.,
come sooner and oftener to those who use it; but our consumers of strong drink are a class; whereas they were then
the whole people. The pious probably drank more discreetly
than the ungodly; but they all drank to their own satisfaction, and, I judge, more than was consistent with'their personal good.
My resolve not to drink was only mentioned by me at our
own fireside; but it somehow became known in the neighborhood, where it excited some curiosity, and even a stronger
feeling. At the annual sheep-washing, in June following, it
was brought forward and condemned; when I was required to
take a glass of liquor, and, on my declining, was held by two
or three youngsters older and stronger than I, while the
liquor was turned into my mouth, and some of it forced down
my throat. That was understood to be the end of my foolish
attenmpt at singularity.
It was not, however. I kept quiet, but my resolution was
unchanged; and, soon after my removal to Poultney, I "assisted" in organizing the first Temperance Society ever formed
in that town, - perhaps the first in the county. It inhibited
the use of distilled liquors only; so that I believe our first
president died of intemperance some years afterward; but a
number still live to rejoice that they took part in that movement, and have since remained faithful to its pledge and its
purpose. I recollect a story told at that time by our adversaries of a man who had joined the Temperance Society just
organized in a neighboring township, and, dying soon afterward, had been subjected to an autopsy, which developed a
cake of ice weighing several pounds, which had gradually
formed and increased in his stomach, as a result of his fanatical devotion to cold water. Alas that most of our facetious
critics have since died, and no autopsy was needed to develop
the cause of their departure! A glance at each fiery proboscis, that irradiated even the cerements of the grave, was
sufficient.
101 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
Total Abstinence has never yet been popular in this nor
in any other great city; and, as liquor grows unfashionable
in the country, it tends to become less and less so. A great
city derives its subsistence and its profits from ministrations
therein, not only to the real needs of the surrounding country,
but to its baser appetites, its vices, as well; and, as the
country becomes less and less tolerant of immoral indulgences
and vicious aberrations, the gains of cities therefrom, and
their consequent interest therein, must steadily increase.
Time was when the young man of means and social position,
who shunned the haunts of the gamester, the wiles of the
libertine, and never indulged in a drunken "spree," was
widely sneered at as a "milksop," or detested as a calculating
hypocrite. Sheridan's Joseph Surface admirably reflects the
once popular appreciation of such absurd, fanatical Puritanism; but, as the world grows wiser and (in an important
sense) better, a great though silent change is wrought in public sentiment, which compels the vicious to conceal indulgeices that they formerly paraded, and maintain an exterior
decency which would once have exposed them to ridicule.
Thousands, who formerly gratified their baser appetites without disguise or shame, now feel constrained, not to "leave
undone," but to "keep unknown," by hieing to some great
city, - where no one's deeds or ways are observed or much
regarded so long as he keeps out of the hands of the police,
and there balance a year's compelled decorum by a week's
unrestrained debauchery.   Fifty years back, a jug would
readily be filled with any designated liquor at almost any
country store; now, the devotee of alcoholic potations must
usually send or take his demijohn to.the most convenient
city, where it will at once be filled and despatched to its impatient, thirsty owner; and so, as the Liquor Interest grows
weaker and weaker in the country, it becomes stronger and
yet stronger in the cities, whose politics it fashions, whose
government it governs, by virtue of its inherent strength
and apprehensive activity. And thus the Liquor Traffic has
greater strength and vitality in our city to-day than it had
twenty to forty years ago.
102 
TEMPERANCE IN ALL THINGS.
Sylvester Graham first appeared in New York as a lecturer,
I think, in the Winter of 1831- 32. He had been a Presbyterian clergyman, settled in New Jersey, and was styled "Dr.,',"
though I do not know that he ever studied or practised medicine. He had an active, inquiring mind, and a considerable
knowledge of physics, metaphysics, and theology; he was a
fluent and forcible, though diffuse and egotistical, speaker; and
he was possessed and impelled by definite convictions. He
was at home in single combat alike with Alcohol and Atheism; but there was nothing narrow in his Temperance nor
in his Orthodoxy. He believed, therefore taught, that Health
is the necessary result of obedience, Disease of disobedience,
to physical laws; that all stimulants, whether alcoholic or
narcotic, are pernicious, and should be rejected, save, possibly,
in those rare cases where one poison may be wisely employed
to neutralize or expel another: he condemned Tea and Coffee,
as well as Tobacco, Opium, and Alcoholic potables,- Cider
and Beer equally with Brandy and Gin, save that the poison
is more concentrated in the latter. He disapproved of all
spices and condiments save (grudgingly) a very little salt;
and he held that more suitable and wholesome food for human beings than the flesh of animals can almost always be
procured, and should be preferred.  The bolting of meal, to
separate its coarser from its finer particles, he also reprobated;
teaching that the ripe, sound berry of Wheat or Rye, being
ground to the requisite fineness, should in no manner be
sifted, but should be made into loaves and eaten precisely as
the mill-stones deliver it. Such is, in brief, "the Graham
system," as I heard it expounded in successive lectures by its
author, and fortified by evidence and reasoning which commanded my general assent. A boarding-house was soon
established, based on its principles, and I became an inmate
thereof, as well as of others afterward founded on the same
general ideas, though I never wholly rejected the use of
meat. Tea I never cared for, and I used none at all for a
quarter of a century; now, I sometimes take it in moderation,
when black and very good. Coffee had for years been my
103 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
chief luxury, - coffee without breakfast being far preferable,
to my taste, to breakfast without coffee; but, having drank a
strong cup of it one evening at a festive board, I woke next
morning to find my hand trembling; and I at once said, " No
more coffee!" and have not drank it since. My taste grad ually changed thereafter, so that I soon ceased to crave, and
now thoroughly dislike, the beverage. And, while I eat
meat, and deem it, when unspoiled by decay or bad cookery,
far less objectionable than hot bread, rancid. butter, decayed
fruits, wilted vegetables, and too many other contributions to
our ordinary diet, I profoundly believe that there is better food
obtainable by the great body of mankind than the butcher
and the fisherman do or can supply; and that a diet made up
of sound grain (ground, but unbolted), ripe, undecayed fruits,
and a variety of fresh, wholesome vegetables, with milk, butter, and cheese, and very little of spices or condiments, will
enable our grandchildren to live in the average far longer,
and fall far less frequently into the hands of the doctors, than
we do.
My wife, whose acquaintance I made at the Graham
House, and who was long a more faithful, consistent disciple
of Grahamn than I was, in our years of extreme poverty kept
her house in strict accordance with her convictions; never
even deigning an explanation to her friends and relatives
who from time to time visited and temporarily sojourned
with us; and, as politeness usually repressed complaint or
inquiry on their part, their first experiences of a regimen
which dispensed with all they deemed most appetizing could
hardly be observed without a smile. Usually, a day, or at
most two, of beans and potatoes, boiled rice, puddings, bread
and butter, with no condiment but salt, and never a pickle,
was all they could abide; so, bidding her a kind adieu, each
in turn departed to seek elsewhere a more congenial hospitality.
"But what peculiar effects of a vegetable diet.did you experience?" some will naturally ask.   I answer generally,
"Much the same as a rum-drinker notes after a brief return
104 
TEMPERANCE IN ALL THINGS.
to water-drinking exclusively. I first felt a quite perceptible
sinking of animal spirits, a partial relaxation or depression
of natural energies. It seemed as though I could not lift so
much, jump so high, nor run so fast, as when I ate meat.
After a time, this lowering of the tone of the physical system
passed away or became imperceptible. On the other hand,
I had no feeling of repletioh or over-fulness; I had no headache, and scarcely an ache of any sort; my health was stubbornly good; and any cut or other flesh-wound healed more
easily and rapidly than formerly. Other things being equal,
I judge that a strict vegetarian will live ten years longer than
a habitual flesh-eater, while suffering, in the average, less
than half so much from sickness as the carnivorous must.
The simple fact, that animals are often diseased when killed
for food, and that the flesh of those borne in crowded cars,
from far inland, to be slaughtered for the sustenance of seaboard cities, is almost always and inevitably feverish and
unwholesome, ought to be conclusive.
On the whole, I am convinced, by the observation and
experience of a third of a century, that all public danger lies
in the direction opposite to that of vegetarianism, - that a
thousand fresh Grahams let loose each year upon the public
will not prevent the consumption, in the average, of far too
much and too highly seasoned animal food; while all the
Goughs and Neal Dows that ever were or can be scared up
will not deter the body politic from pouring down its throat
a great deal more "fire-water" than is good for it.  And,
while I look with interest on all attempts to substitute
American wines and malt liquors for the more concentrated
and maddening decoctions of the still, I have noted no such
permanent triumphs in the thousand past attempts to cast
out big devils by the incantations of little ones as would give
me reason to put faith in the principle, or augur success for
this latest experiment.
105 
XIV.
POLITICS.
N eager, omnivorous reader, especially of newspapers,
from early childhood; I was an ardent politician when
not yet half old enough to vote. I heartily sympathized with
the Northern uprising against the admission of Missouri as a
Slave State, and shared in the disappointment and chagrin so
widely felt when that uprising was circumvented and defeated
by what was called a Compromise. I think few of us blamed
the Southern politicians for their agency in our defeat; but
She score of Northern Senators and Representatives who (as
we thought) betrayed us were thenceforth marked men, and
few indeed of them were ever again successful aspirants to
popular favor.
When, in 1824, the country was freshly agitated and divided, after several years of general calm, by the nomination
of William H. Crawford, of Georgia, for President, in a caucus
attended by less than a third of the Members of Congress,considerably less than half of those who were chosen by the
dominant party,- all New England became zealously antiCaucus, and her electoral vote was cast solid for John Quincy
Adams; there being no serious opposition among the masses,
though several of her leading politicians, and hitherto most
influential journals, were vehemently for Crawford. The
choice in the House of Adams for President, by the help of
Mr. Clay and his friends, suited us exactly, and all the more
that Mr. Clay was eminently National in his views and feelings, a leading champion of Internal Improvements, Protection
to Home Industry, and every good work. But the hostile 
POLI TICS.
combination soon thereafter formed of the lately warring supporters of Jackson, Crawford, and Calhoun respectively, did
not please us at all; Calhoun especially - having been a
National man, a supporter of Protection, River and Harbor Improvement, &c., while in Congress, and having been generally
sustained by our section for Vice-President -was regarded,
up our way, as a renegade from principle for office and power.
The fierce personal warfare waged upon Adams and Clay for
their alleged coalition, by and in full view of this hostile combination, excited our wrath and scorn; but this did not overbear the fact that their three factions united were an overmatch for our two; and, as Crawford died soon after Adams's
accession, they were enabled to achieve what would now-adays be called a close connection, by running Jackson for
President, with Calhoun for Vice-President. We ought to
have countered this by nominating Clay with Adams, or
(better still) by having Adams decline a reelection, and running Clay for President, with Walter Forward, of Pennsylvania,
or SmitTl Thompson, of New York, for Vice-President; but
everything went wrong with us: the sudden death of De
Witt Clinton consolidated many of his personal followers with
their life-long adversaries in the support of Jackson for
President, with Van Buren for Governor of New York; our
nomination of Richard Rush, of Pennsylvania, for Vice-President was injudicious, and gave us no strength; and our
reasonable hopes that the Tariff question would secure us
Ohio with Kentucky, and give us a fair chance for Pennsylvania, were blighted by the tactics of our antagonists: Van
Buren, Silas Wright, Buchanan, the Jackson delegations from
Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Kentucky, in solid column, with all
but two or three members from New York, uniting (in 182w)
to frame and pass the highest and most Protective Tariff that
had ever been proposed, over the votes of a majority of the
Adams men from New England. Outmanceuvred on every
side, we were clearly foredoomed to defeat; the loss of Mr.
Clay's own Kentucky was a blow for which her preceding
election of Members to Congress had partly prepared us,
107 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
though we carried, by a close vote, her Governor (Metcalf) in
the spirited August election of this year; but Indiana, and
even Ohio, went with her, though we had carried the latter
in her State'election scarcely a month before the popular vote
for President. Louisiana, too, voted for Jackson, though with
us in her preceding State contest; New York (then choosing
electors by districts) gave Adams but 16 votes to 20 for his
opponent; and so we were badly beaten, carrying but 84
electors, while Jackson -having every vote below the Potomac, and all west of the Alleghanies- had more than double
that number.
In the, succeeding Presidential contest (1832) we had
scarcely a chance. Anti-Masonry had divided us, and driven
thousands of Adams men over to Jackson, whose personal
popularity was very great, especially with the non-reading
class, and who had strengthened himself at the North by his
Tariff Messages and his open rupture with Calhoun. New
Hampshire and Maine had already gone over to him; Vermiont voted for Wirt, the Anti-Masonic candidate; Ohio, distracted by Anti-Masonry, went again for Jackson; New York
(now choosing electors by general ticket) went solid for him,
with Pennsylvania, and even New Jersey: so that Mr. Clay,
though carrying his own Kentucky, made but a sorry figure
in the electoral aggregate.   Massachusetts, PRhode Island,
Connecticut, Delaware, and part of Maryland (by districts),
were all the States that voted for him, save his own.
South Carolina now threw away her vote for President on
John Floyd, of Virginia, and proceeded to nullify the Tariff,
which had just been somewhat reduced,- in part, to placate
her.  But Van Buren had been substituted for Calhoun as
Vice-President, and she would not be placated. Her nullification was abandoned, rather than suppressed, and this only
after the main point had been virtually yielded to her by a
graduated reduction of the Tariff throughout the next ten
years to a purely Revenue standard. Though overborne, she
was practically triumphant. Mr. Clay proposed the Compromise Tariff, that gave her ample excuse for receding from her
108 
POLI TICS.
untenable position; but only after it had been rendered
certain that a more immediate and sweeping reduction of the
Tariff, already reported by Mr. Verplanck, from the Committee
of Ways and Means, would be carried if this were forborne.
So the land had peace again for a brief season.
The United States Bank war, which soon followed, had
already been inaugurated by General Jackson's imperious
will. Early in his first term, he had been prompted to require the removal of Jeremiah Mason, President of the branch
at Portsmouth, N. H., who was obnoxious to his leading
friends in that State.   He was not gratified.  Though the
first charter of the bank would not expire till 1836, he demonstrated against its renewal so early as 1830; telling Congress that the question should be promptly acted on, so that
arrangements might seasonably be made, in case it should not
be rechartered, for supplying its place as a financial agent of
the Government, and a commercial convenience to the people.
A Jackson Congress, in due time, took the matter in hand,
and, in 1q32, voted a renewal of the charter, by large majorities
in either House. The bill was vetoed, and the Veto Message
complained that the act of rechartering was premature!
That Congress, prior to its final adjournment, heard vaguely
that the President intended to remove the deposits of public
money from the detested Bank; whereupon the House voted,
by three to one, that they ought not to be removed.
William J. Duane, of Pennsylvania, was then Secretary of
the Treasury. The President required him to remove the
deposits. He declined. Jackson thereupon removed him;
appointing in his stead Roger B. Taney, of Maryland, who
proceeded at once to do his master's bidding. When a new
Congress assembled (December, 1833), the Federal deposits, as
they accrued, were being dispersed among a multiplicity of
State banks,- the least able being of course the most needy
and clamorous for a share of the pap, on the strength of their
directors' professed devotion to the Administration and its
"revered chief."
I have always- at least, since I read Dr. Franklin's auto
109 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
biographly, more than forty years ago- been an advocate of
paper money.  But I want it to be money, - convertible at
pleasure into coin,-not printed lies, even though they fail
to deceive. From 1818 up to 1830, this country suffered
from a dearth of money. Tens of thousands were unwillingly
idle from month to month, who would have been usefully and
profitably employed had the country been blest with an adequate circulating medium. Comparatively few houses were
built in those years, because of the scarcity of money, which
palsied enterprise and petrified labor. As a journeyman, I
could rarely find work in the country, because there was so
little money; and, on coming to the city, I found that payments by master mechanics to their men were mainly made
in "uncurrent" notes of State banks, which must often, if not
generally, be taken to a broker and "shaved" before they
would pay board or buy groceries. The consequent loss was
something; the inevitable bother and vexation were a far
greater nuisance.   A  paper currency everywhere current,
everywhere convertible into coin, was my ideal; hence I was
not partial to local emissions of paper, but a zealous, determined advocate of a National Bank.
The United States Bank, being required to pay over the
millions it held on deposit for the Government, receiving no
more, began, of course, to contract its loans. It could do no
otherwise; especially as an attempt, evidently inspired, had
been made by Jackson brokers to break its branch at Savannah by quietly collecting a large quantity of its notes and
presenting them at once for payment, hoping that they could
not all be met, and that it might thereupon be claimed that
the Bank had failed. It was charged by its adversaries that
the contraction consequent upon the removal of the Deposits
was too rapid and too great; in fact, that its purpose was the
creation of commercial distress and panic. This may have
been; but a very decided contraction by that Bank was inevitable; and it could have pursued no course that did not
expose it to accusation and reproach. I presume it struggled
for its life, as most of us would' do, if assailed with deadly
110 
POLITICS.
intent.  With the removal of the Deposits, its power to regulate the currency lapsed, and its duty as well. Those Banks
to which the Government had transferred its funds and its
favors should unitedly have assumed and exercised the functions of a regulator, or confessed their inability.
As the pressure for money increased, the political elements
were lashed to fury, and our city, the focus of American commerce, became the arena of a fierce electioneering struggle.
Hitherto, the Jackson ascendency had, since the death of De
Witt Clinton, been so decided, that our charter elections had
usually been scarcely contested; but the stirring debates daily
received from Washington, the strivings of merchants  and
banks to avert bankruptcy, the daily tightening of the money
market, and the novel hopes of success inspired in the breasts
of those who now took the name of "Whigs" (to indicate
their repugnance to unauthorized assumptions of Executive
power), rendered New York for some weeks a boiling caldron
of political passions. Our three days' election (April, 1834)
was the.most vehement and keenly contested struggle which
I ever witnessed. Our city was then divided into fifteen
Wards, with but one poll to each Ward; and I should estimate the average attendance on each poll at little less than
one thousand. I am certain that I saw the masses surrounding the Fourth and Sixth Ward polls respectively (then but
two or three blocks apart), so mingled that you could not say
where the one ended and the other began. There were some
fights, of course, and one general collision in the Sixth Ward
that might have resulted in deplorable bloodshed; but peace
was soon restored. In the event, the Jacksonites elected their
Mayor (Cornelius W. Lawrence) over the Whig candidate
(Gulian C. Verplanck) by 384 majority, which was less than
their overplus of voters naturalized on the last day of the
poll. The total vote was nearly 35,000; which was probably
a closer approach to the whole number of legal voters than
was ever drawn out before or since. The Whigs carried both
branches of the Common Council, giving them the control of
most of the city patronage; so that the result was generally
and justly regarded as a drawn battle.
ill 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
My concern printed a daily campaign penny paper, entitled
The Constitution, through most of that year, and I was a free
contributor to its columns, though its editor and publisher
was Mr. Achilles R. Crain, who died some thirty years ago.
It did not pay, and the firm of Greeley and Winchester were
losers by it, counting my editorial assistance worth nothing.
William H. Seward, then thirty-four years old, and just closing
with distinction a four years' term in the State Senate, was our
candidate for Governor, with Silas M. Stillwell for Lieutenant;
and we fondly hoped to carry the State in the November
election. But meantime the State Banks, wherein the Federal
revenue was deposited (" Pet Banks," we Whigs termed them),
had been enabled to effect an enormous expansion of their
loans and issues; and the country - not yet feeling the Tariff
reductions which the Compromise of 1833 had barely inaugurated - was launched on the flood of a factitious but
seductive semblance of prosperity. Money was abundant;
every one had employment who wanted, and pay if he earned
it; property was rapidly appreciating. in value; factories and
furnaces had full work, and were doing well; so, when the
Fall election came, we made a gallant fight, but were badly
defeated, - Marcy being reelected Governor over Seward by
some 13,000 rmajority,- more than he had over Granger in
1832,- and the Whigs, beaten pretty generally and decisively,
relapsed into a torpor whence they were scarcely aroused by
the ensuing Presidential Election, wherein General Harrison
was made their candidate for President, with Francis Granger
for- Vice-President, while Hugh L. White, of Tennessee, ran
for President, with John Tyler, of Virginia, for Vice-President,
on an independent ticket which contested the South with the
Jackson regulars, who alone held a National Convention, in
which they nominated Martin Van Buren for President, with
Colonel Richard M. Johnson, of Kentucky, for Vice. I was
among the very few in the Eastern States who had taken any
interest in bringing forward General Harrison as a candidate,
believing that there was the raw material for a good run in
his history and character; but this was not generally credited,
112 
POLITICS.
at least in our State, which, in a languid contest on a light
vote, went for Van Buren, Johnson, and Marcy, by some
28,000 majority. When, however, the returns from other
States came pouring in, and it was found that General Harrison had carried, with Vermont only of the New England
States, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, Ohio, Indiana, and
Kentucky, and had barely failed to carry Pennsylvania, while
White had carried Tennessee and Georgia, barely failing in
North Carolina, and in two or three Southwestern States,
and that Virginia had refused her vote to Johnson, so that he
had failed of an election by the people, and had to be chosen
over Granger by the Senate, there was a general waking up
to the conviction, that either Harrison was more popular, or
Van Buren more obnoxious, than had been supposed in our
State, and that the latter might have been beaten by seasonable
concert and effort. In that slouching Whig defeat of 1836
lay the germ of the overwhelming Whig triumph of 1840.
Mr. Van Buren's election to the Presidency always seemed
to me anomalous, and I am not yet fully reconciled to it. He
had none of that personal magnetism which made General
Jackson and Mr. Clay respectively the idols of their contending parties. He was not even an orator, was far inferior to
Silas Wright as a debater, and to William L. Marcy in executive ability. I believe his strength lay in his suavity. He
was the reconciler of the estranged; the harmonizer of those
who were at feud, among his fellow-partisans. An adroit and
subtle, rather than a great man, I judge that he owed his election, first to the Vice-Presidency, then to the Presidency, to
the personal favor and imperious will of Andrew Jackson,
with whom "Love me, love my dog," was an iron rule. Had
there been no Jackson, Van Buren would never have attained
the highest office in the gift of his countrymen.
8
113 
xv.
PLAY-DAYS.
HOEVER  has spent a few weeks in Paris has doubt    less paused to witness, on the greensward enclosed by
the Palais Royal, or elsewhere, groups of young children at
play, and been charmed by their unconscious spirit, freedom,
and grace of manner. The French chronicler's observation,
centuries ago, -" The English take their pleasures sadly,"will be brought to his mind on almost every occasion when
he witnesses an attempt at festivity on the part of the neighboring islanders or of their descendants on this side of the
Atlantic. Our Scotch-Irish settlers in southern New Hampshire brought with them from the other side a broad humor,
a love of fun, a spirit of hospitality, a regard for kinship and
clanship, which had not wholly faded out in my boyhood, or
been drowned in the sea of British nationality which in time
rolled over the continent, submerging the islets of Scotch,
Hollandic, Swedish, French, or other diverse origin, which
had for a season gleamed above the waves. The low-born,
rudely bred Englishman has but one natural fashion of enjoying himself, - by getting drunk. We have modified this
somewhat; but, as a rule, our thrifty, self-respecting people
have hitherto allowed themselves too few holidays, and failed
to make the best use of those they actually took.
Fifty years have passed since I first stoie down, one foggy
morning, to the brook that ran through the west side of my
father's farm in New Hampshire, and, dropping my line off
the bridge, felt a bite almost inistantly, and, hauling up, drew
in a nice speckled trout.   I had tried to fish before, but 
PLAY-DAYS.
without success; henceforth, through boyhood, I was an
enthusiastic, persevering fisherman, though never a master
of the art.  The modern sophistications of fly and reel were
unknown in rural New England in those days; hook, line,
and sinker gave adequate warning to every considerate, wary
fish of what he had to expect if he bit; but fishermen were
fewer and brooks more shady, less capricious in volume, than
the clearing away of woods has since made them, while intellectual delights were rarer and less inviting: so fishing
was largely the pleasure of the gay and the business of the
grave. Our rivers, unvexed by mill-dams, swarmed in their
season with shad, lamprey-eels, &c., and afforded some salmon, as well as fish of less consideration. Even the sea was
not too far to be visited by adventurous parties, intent on a
week's profitable sport. Winter brought its sleigh-loads of
fresh cod, frozen as soon as fairly out'of water, and so retaining the sweetness which soon vanishes forever; and I reckon
that, down to 1800, the people of New Eng,land had eaten
many mnore pounds of fish than of beef and mutton together,
-perhaps of all meats save those obtained by the chase.
In Vermont, the clay soil of the Champlain Valley discolors the brooks when full and repels the trout; but the
abundant lakes and lakelets used to abound in perch, bass,
and sunfish, while the larger streams afforded, in addition,
eels and pike.   East Bay -the common  estuary of the
Poultney and Castleton creeks, and dividing Westhaven
from Hampton, N. Y. - is, in Spring, the resort of a small,
peculiar shad, which, with a few pike, bass, mullet, &c., come
up from the Lake to spawn, and are caught with seines drawn
by two fishermen, who wade through the swollen stream,one of them sometimes obliged to swim,- while great blocks
of ice, left aground by the receding floods, often lie slowly
wasting along the bank.  The melted snow from the mountains eastward stings like a hornet as you enter it; so that,
if this were not sport, it would be disagreeable; but I have
often, when ten to twelve years old, carried the in-shore staff
while my father took the deeper track, which immersed him
115 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
up to his neck; we dipping together at his word of command,
and then gathering up our net and carrying out therein, from
no fish at all up to six or eight. I have known-a dozen taken
at one haul; but this was most extraordinary.
In Summer, we sometimes caught a fine pike or eel with
hook and line in the basin beneath the fifty-foot cataract by
which the blended creeks tumble into the Bay; but fishing
here was too slow for any sportsman less persistent than I
then was. I have sat here alone in the dense darkness of a
wooded abyss, where the fall drowned all sounds but its own,
from 8 to 11 P. M., without being blest with a bite, and
then felt my way up through the Egyptian darkness of the
forest hillside to the road, and so home, pondering on the
fickleness of fortune; yet eager to try again whenever opportunity should favor. I always had my week's work allotted
me when I could, and generally succeeded in redeeming at
least the Saturday afternoon for my favorite pastime. And I
wish here to bear my testimony against a current theory which
imports that boys are naturally lazy. My experience contradicts it. My schoolmates and neighbors, who had a great
deal more leisure than I, were frequent visitors to the field
wherein I was working out my "stint," and very rarely hesitated to turn in, with hearty good-will, and help me out, so
that I might devote the rest of the day to fishing, ball, or
other sport with them. A lazy man, in my view, is always
the pitiable victim of miseducation.   Each human  being,
properly trained, works as freely and naturally as he eats;
only the victims of parental neglect or misguidance hate work,
and prefer hunger and rags with idleness, to thrift won by
industry and patient effort.
There came a day, early in June, 1824, when I had ransomed from toil the afternoon for perch-fishing in "Inman
Pond," a lovely tarn, lying lonely among wooded hills in
Fairhaven, some two miles east of our home.  I was undeniably ill, in the forenoon, so that I was twice compelled to
desist from labor and lie down; hence, my mother judiciously
urged me to let the fish alone for that day, and care for my
116 
PLAY-DAYS.
health. I had not fished for months, however; the day was
glorious; I set off for the pond a little after noon, and was
dropping the perch a line within the hour. But my head
soon grew heavy; there was a strange ache in my every
bone; the breeze that sped gently across the pond, though
really warm and bland, seemed to chill me as never before.
I was soon compelled to put aside my pole, and lie down,
shivering, on the bare rock which here formed the shore;
thus passing two hours in a semi-conscious state of mingled
delirium and suffering. When the fit of ague passed off, I
rose and started homeward, but was constrained to stop at
the first house, half a mile from home, where I passed the
night. I had seen fever and ague before, but never felt it;
and I made haste to terminate the unpleasant acquaintance.
Judging solely from my own experience, I believe he who
will begin with an emetic directly after his first fit, and follow this with heavy and frequent doses of Peruvian Bark (I
distrust Quinine, as less natural and more perilous), taking
care to eat very little, and that of the simplest vegetable food,
and do absolutely no work at all, may break the fits directly,
and return to work quite well after a fortnight.   He  who
neglects or trifles with this scourge may lose a Summer by
it, and never again be restored to his pristine health and
vigor.
Ball was a common diversion in Vermont while I lived there;
yet I never'became a proficient at it, probably for want of
time and practice. To catch a flying ball, propelled by a
muscular arm straight at my nose, and coming on so swiftly
that I could scarcely see it, was a' feat requiring a celerity of
action, an electric sympathy of eye and brain and hand, which
my few and far-between hours snatched from labor for recreation did not suffice to acquire. Call it a knack, if you will;
it was quite beyond my powers of acquisition. "Practice
makes perfect."   I certainly needed the practice, though I
am not sure that any amount of it would have made me a
perfect ball-player.
I like popular amusements, especially those which develop
117
I.::: 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and strengthen the muscles; but I do not like the modern
matches made up between clubs located hundreds of miles
apart. According to my notion, the prize should be awarded
in these matches to the side which makes the shorter score.
In awarding the palm for such a contest, count n,y vote always for the beaten party. They doubtless mind their proper
business better, and perform their duties as fathers, husbands,
sons, clerks, journeymen, apprentices, &c., more thoroughly
than do the victors. It is an honor not to beat, but to be
beaten, in a match of this sort.
I wish it were practicable to win our countrymen to a
wiser and more equable frame of mind respecting recreations.
Many sourly contemn and reject them altogether; and I
think this was a prevalent mistake of our better class, up to
a late period. Now, the excess seems to be of an opposite
character. Too many make play a business, when it should
be only a diversion from business. The youth, who has
given his minority to study and play alternately, with no
experience of work, is deplorably ill fitted to grapple with the
stern realities of responsible life. His muscles need hardening; his sinews have not been disciplined to the work that
solicits them. As between a youth all work and one all
play, though neither is commendable, the former is preferable.
I never saw a game of Billiards played, and know nothing
of Bowling; yet I judge this latter a capital in-door exercise
for persons of sedentary pursuits and habits. These I would
advise to shun such games as Chess, Cards, Checkers, Backgammon, &c., because of their inevitable tendency to impair
digestion and incite headache. If played at all, they should
be played by men who give their days to muscular, outdoor exertion, and at night feel too tired to study.
I tried fishing again, after being weaned of it throughout
my  apprenticeship, while stopping with my  father at the
WVest, and had some little success in the creeks adjacent to
his new home; but I was no longer fascinated by the sport,
while the proceeds were of slender bulk and value. The
118 
PLAY-DAYS.
streams were full of trees and rodts, while overgrown by a
tangle of limbs and bushes; the sawdust gradually repelled
or killed the trout; the business involved more plague than
profit of any kind; and I soon deserted it. I had become, in
my poor way, a fisher of men.
I protest against making a business of play. The Yankees
are prone to "run the thing into the ground," be it what it
may. We work immoderately, and play ditto. I have seen
very few holidays during my thirty-six years' sojourn in New
York; and such is the experience of a large class; while
others have too many play-days,- far too many. We must
somehow strike a general average, for mutual benefit and the
promotion of public health.
I have often cooled my imagination, amid the fervid and
sweltering heats of a summer of constant work in the city,
with a dream of spending a week amid the lakes and mountains, under the dense forest-shades of "John Brown's Tract,"
as we term the great northern wilderness wherein the Hudson, IMohawk, Au-Sable, Racket, Black, and other rivers of
the eastern half of our State, have their sources; and, though
I never found time to set foot therein, I have hardly yet
relinquished the hope that I may do so. I was ever the
zealous advocate of all works of internal improvement, so
called, save those which aim at the heart of that wilderness,
threatening to hunt the deer from their last refuge on our
soil, and denude of their forest-covering the springs which
feed our most useful and valued streams.   Strip "John
Brown's Tract" of its timber, and the Hudson will, from June
to October, cease to be navigable by floating palaces to Albany; while desbolating floods, especially in Spring, will do
immense damage from Utica down to Castleton.
I presume, if I were ever to have the week I covet, I should
find it insufferably tedious,  - the mosquitoes biting superbly;
the trout shyly, or not at all,- and should long for a return
to civilization, with its hourly toils and struggles, its thronged
pavements, and its damp newspapers with breakfast.  Still,
I should like to try the experiment; and I hope our children
119 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
will see, though I shall not, the greater portion of Pike and
Monroe Counties, with other sterile mountain districts of
eastern Pennsylvania, converted into spacious deer-parks of
fifty to five hundred square miles each, enclosed by massive
stone walls, intersected by belts of grass traversing each tiny
valley (so as speedily to stop the running of any fires that
might chance to be started), planted with the best timber,
and held by large companies of shareholders for sporting,
under proper regulations. These lands are not now worth five
dollars per acre in the average; but the timber on them
would soon be cheap at one hunidred dollars per acre, if this
plan were adopted. They are full of petty lakes, and of
spring-fed, swiftly running streams, which would soon abound
with the finest trout if they were simply let alone; with
proper arrangements for breeding and feeding, they would
produce more of this delicate fish than New York and Philadelphia ever yet saw. A century hence, were those bleak
mountains thus dealt with, they would be covered, as of old,
with a magnificent forest, containing more serviceable pine
than is now standing in all our States east of the Potomac
and Lake Erie, and then worth at least five hundred dollars
per acre.
Yet the fact remains, that we do not enjoy our holidays,do not know how to play judiciously and in moderation.
Though often invited, I never yet went on a railroad excursion that was to outlast the day of starting; knowing by instinct that it would prove a failure so far as enjoyment was
concerned.   And  my recollection of steamboat excursions,
however brief, is, that they were generally bores. I recollect
that, one Fourth of July, long ago, an excursion to Sandy
IHook was advertised that seemed specially inviting; so I
overruled my distrust, and went. At 11 A. M., we passengers, some hundreds in number, were debarked, by small
boats, on the back side of the island, which we found a sandheap, thinly bristled with bushes, - its solitary dwelling
inhabited by the keeper of the light-house, whose limited
stock of bread and bacon scarcely afforded us a fair mouthful
120 
PLAY-DAYS.
each. Our steamboat had gone back to the city for a second
load; so we bathed, and killed time as well as we could, until
she returned, - running aground as she attempted to near
the shore. We got aboard, and waited dreary hours - hungry, crowded, and sullen - for the tide to rise and float us
off; being tantalized throughout the evening by the shooting
up of abundant rockets over the city, barely within our range
of vision. At length, we partly floated, partly pulled off;
and, at midnight, we were landed at the Battery, - as thoroughly wearied and disgusted a lot of disappointed pleasureseekers as ever crept silently to their homes. I have never
since hankered after a seaward excursion.
We have teachers of every art, science, and ology; why not
a teacher of the art of enjoying leisure, - of making play a
little less wearisome than work? Take excursions to illustrate my idea. Why should not any person above ten years
old know better than to embark on a crowded vessel or train
with some hundreds of others, mainly total strangers, expecting to enjoy in their company a trip of several days? But
if, instead of this, a small party of intimate, devoted friends,
of reasonably accordant tastes, education, and habits, were to
charter a little steamboat, or a train, or a dozen wagons,
and so betake themselves to some quiet nook where they
would be safe from intrusion or prying curiosity,- say an
islet off the coast or in the St. Lawrence, a lake-side in our
Northern wilderness, a cluster of deserted shingle-makers'
huts on the mountains of Eastern Pennsylvania, where fish
or game was procurable, and cool breezes in Midsummer
might be confidently expected, -they surely might expect to
redeem a full week from care and trouble, and return to their
homes more vigorous, more healthful, more at peace with
themselves and with others, - cured of these interminable
headaches, and sound in body and soul. Who will teach us
incessant workers how to achieve leisure and enjoy it?
121 
XVI.
TRIUMPII.
R. VAN  BUREN  was inaugurated President on the
l 4th of March, 1837; when General Jackson retired to
his Hermitage, congratulating himself that he left the'American people prosperous and happy.   Never was man more
mistaken. He had just before pointed to the immense sales
of public lands, in 1835-36, as proof of increased and general
addiction to agriculture, when, in fact, it proved only a plethora of currency, and a consequent high-tide of speculation.
At length, convinced that something was wrong, the General
attempted to dam the flood by a " specie circular," prescribing
that only coin should thenceforth be received in payment for
public lands. This device precipitated the catastrophe it was
intended to avert. The harvest of 1836 had been generally
bad, while our importations had been quite large; we were
compelled to import grain, while heavily in debt to Europe
for goods; thus our banks were drained of specie both ways,
-to pay for lands in the West and South, and for grain and
goods daily pouring in from the Old World. They held out
so long as they could, and then gave way,- those of our city
suspending specie payment on the 10th of May, and all others
directly afterward, save that some of those located in the
southwest had done so some days before.  Samuel Swartwout,
Collector of Customs at this port, at first proclaimed that he
would continue to receive bank-notes for duties, notwithstanding the suspension (which was promptly legalized by
our Jackson legislature); but he was soon overruled from
Washington; and the duties on imports- indeed, the entire 
TRIUMIPH.
Federal revenue -were thenceforth collected and kept in
coin alone. The revenues of all the States, however, were
still collected, kept, and paid out in bank-notes, which continued to be the currency of the people.
Mr. Van Buren promptly called the new Congress to meet
in extraordinary session on the first Monday in September,
when he addressed to it a Message which laid the blame of
suspension on the banks, which were accused of over-issuing
and over-lending; and he thereupon insisted that the Government should divorce itself from all connection with banks,
and should thenceforth collect, keep, and pay out its revenues
in coin only, through the agency of special depositories, forming what he termed the Independent Treasury. An able,
earnest, searching debate in the House was elicited by this
proposition, which was terminated by a motion of Hon. John
C. Clark, of this State, that the bill providing for the Independent Treasury (so called) do lie on the table; which was
carried in a full House by a small majority. Mr. Clark had
been a' Jackson-Van Buren Democrat, but was henceforth
accounted a "Conservative," and acted openly with the Whigs,
as did Hon. Nathaniel P. Tallmadge, one of our United States
Senators, and many other leading men hitherto Democrats.
The Independent Treasury, thus condemned by the House,
remained in force, by the President's direction, until it was
finally enacted in the Summer of 1840.
The commercial revulsion, which was rather apprehended
than fully experienced in 1834, was abundantly realized in
1837.  Manufactories were stopped, and their "hands" thrown
out of work.   Trade was almost stagnant.   Bankruptcies
among men of business were rather the rule than the exception. Property was sacrificed at auction -often at sheriff's
or assignee's sale- for a fraction of its value; and thousands,
who had fondly dreamed themselves millionnaires, or on the
point of becoming such, awoke to the fact that they were
bankrupt.  The banks were, of course, in trouble,- those
123 
RECOLLECTIONS OF 4 BUSY LIFE.
which had been Government depositories, or "pets," rather
deeper than the rest. Looking at the matter from their point
of view, they had been first seduced into a questionable path,
and were now reviled and assailed for yielding to their seducers.
Soon were heard the rumblings of a political earthquake.
Scarcely a State elected Members of Congress or a Governor
in 1837, after the Suspension of Specie Payments; but the
Legislative and local elections of Autumn sufficiently indicated the popular revulsion. When New York came to vote,
in November, the gale had stiffened into a tornado. The
Whigs carried New York City, - which they had never done
before,- with Westchester, Orange, Dutchess, Greene, Oneida,
Onondaga, and other counties hitherto overwhelmingly Democratic, giving them six of the eight Senate districts, including
the -First and Second. Herkimer, Jefferson, St. Lawrence, Suffolk, and a few smaller counties, were all that clung to the
waning fortunes of Van Buren, - the Whigs choosing 100
out of the 128 Members of Assembly. The Senate, being
cosen but one fourth annually, remained strongly Democratice
I had been active, as usual, in the canvass, but not conspicuously so, -my personal embarrassments constraining
me not to be. I had been privately tendered a place on the
City Assembly ticket, but felt obliged to decline it. Outside
of the city, I had no political, and little personal, acquaintance
in the State; having never yet attended a State Convention.
I was somewhat surprised, therefore, at a visit, in my rude
editorial attic, a few days after the extent of our victory was
ascertained, from a stranger, who introduced himself as Mr.
Thurlow Weed, editor of The Albany Evening Journal, who,
with Mr. Lewis Benedict, also of Albany, was stopping at the
City Hlotel, and wished to confer with me at their lodgings.
I accompanied Mr. Weed to his hotel, where the business
which had brought the friends to New York was unfolded.
Decided as had been our triumph in the State, it had been
won on a moderate vote, and quite as much by the failure of
124 
TRIUMiPH.
Democrats to exercise their right of suffrage as by their voting
the AVhig ticket. The next election would naturally bring
many of these stay-at-homes to the polls, and - there being a
Governor and Representatives in Congress to be then chosen,
with a United States Senator in prospect — would inevitably
draw out a heavy vote.  To maintain and confirm the Whig
ascendency, it had been resolved to publish, throughout 1838,
a cheap weekly journal, to be called The Jeffersonian, which
I had been pitched upon as the proper person to edit. I
believe Mr. Weed first designated me for the post, though he
knew nothing of me except by reading my paper, The NewYorker; for though I had written for several Whig dailies,
mainly of the ephemeral type, I had done so anonymously.
The Jeffersonian was to be a small octavo, issued weekly for
a year, and virtually given away for the nominal price of fifty
cents per annum, - the expense of its issue being made up
by voluntary contributions from wealthy or spirited Whigs.
I was offered $ 1,000 to serve as editor, and concluded to
accept it, though this would oblige me to spend a good part
of my time- in Summer, half of each week; in Winter, nearly
the whole - in Albany.
About two months thereafter, having put my affairs into
as good a shape as possible, I took stage in Cortlandt Street,
one cold Winter morning, and had a sleigh-ride thence up the
west side of the Hudson to Albany, where I arrived in the
afternoon of the third day. My No. 1 appeared in due time
thereafter; but, as my small paper did not require all my
time, I made condensed reports of the Assembly debates for
The Evening Journal, and wrote some articles for its editorial
columns.
The new era in politics had called many of our foremost
men to Albany. The courtly and gracious Luther Bradish
was Speaker of the Assembly. Our city was represented
therein by several notables,- among them David B. Ogden,
WVillis Hall, Samuel B. Ruggles, and Adoniram Chandler.
We had chosen as Senator Gulian C. Verplanck, whom we
vainly tried to make Mayor in 1834. From Albany, Daniel
125 
.RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
D. Barnard; from Troy, Day O. Kellogg; from Oneida, Fortune C. White; from Onondaga, James R. Lawrence, Victory
Birdseye, and Azariah Smith; from Rochester, Derick Sibley;
from Livingston, George W. Patterson,- were Whig Members
of Assembly. On the other side stood Abijah Mann, of Herkimer, Preston King, of St. Lawrence, and Richard Hulbert,
of Jefferson, with several others of decided ability-and cleverness in parliamentary warfare. The Free Banking Systemfor which our State is specially indebted to Willis Hallwas developed and established that tinter, -a great and
admirable improvement on the corruptihg political monopoly
it superseded. Our banks were again allowed to issue small
bills, which the last preceding Legislature had forbidden.
The partisan device whereby County Judges (there were then
several in each county) were interpolated into the County
Boards of Supervisors for the purpose of making certain county
appointments, was knocked on the head. In short, I believe
our State has, since 1824, had no other Legislature so able,
'or one that did so much good and so little harm, as that
of 1838.
The Jeffersonian was a campaign paper, but after a fashion
of it~ own. It carefully eschewed abuse, scurrility, and railing accusations. Its editorials were few, brief, and related to
the topics of the day, - rarely evincing partisanship, never
bitterness. Its pages were mainly devoted to the ablest and
calmest speeches made  in Congress, - generally  to those
which opposed the Independent (or Sub-) Treasury scheme
and its adjuncts, though other able essays also found place in
it. In short, it aimed to convince and win by candor and
moderation, rather than overbear by passion and vehemence.
Its circulation was, throughout, about 15,000 copies; and,
being mainly read by those who took no other paper, I think
it did good.  Had it been conducted on the high-pressure
principle, it would probably have had a larger circulation, and
perhaps done no good at all. I think its efficiency was somewhat evidenced by the fact that, while the Whigs were beaten
126 
TRIUMPH.
that Fall in Maine, in Pennsylvania, in Ohio (which they
had carried two years before), and in nearly or quite every
State westward of Ohio, they were successful in the later
election in New York, as the result of a desperate struggle,
and on an average vote largely beyond precedent,- William
IHI. Seward ousting William L. Marcy from the Governor's
chair, and Luther Bradish succeeding John Tracy as Lieutenant-Governor, -each by more than 10,000 majority. We
carried also the Assembly (though by no such majority as the
year before), and gained somewhat in the Senate; but that
branch was still adverse to us, owing to the dead weight accumulated in former years: so Governor Seward's nominations
were all laid on the table, and our attempt to reelect Hon.
N. P. Tallmadge United States Senator was likewise defeated,
-the law requiring each House to nominate a Senator, meet
to compare nominations, and, in case of their disagreement,
proceed to elect in joint ballot; but the Democratic Senators
evaded its requirement by each voting for a separate candidate: so that the Senate made no nomination, and could not
be compelled to go into joint ballot.
Considerable excitement was caused by this evasion of a
strictly prescribed duty; and the Whigs, by desperate exertions, carried the State again in the ensuing election (November, 1839), though this city, which for two years had gone
with them, now went against them.  There were three Senators to be chosen this year in the Third (Albany and Delaware) District; and the Whigs just carried them all,- one of
them (General Erastus Root) by barely one majority.  They
had never triumphed in this district before; and I think they
never carried it again unless their adversaries were divided.
And now, when the new Legislature met (January, 1840), we
had, along with the Governor and Assembly, a clear majority
(20 to 12) in the Senate, and a new chapter was to be opened.
I was writing at a reporter's desk in the Senate, when, very
soon after its first sitting had begun, some Whig rose and
moved that so and so (the Democratic incumbents) be removed from thie posts of secretary, sergeant-at-arms, &c., and
127
. , 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
that so and so [nominees of a Whig caucus, held the night
before] be appointed in their stead. At once, up rose the
venerable but vigorous Colonel Samuel Young, of Saratoga,
and for nearly an hour poured hot shot into the proposition,
descanting on bleeding constitutions, outraged liberties, violated rights, &c., &c. When he had blown out, Uncle Harry
Livingston, of Dutchess, - a humorous old Whig, who, in the
general overturn of 1837, had blundered into the Senate from
the Second District, to the amazement of himself and of everybody else,- sprang to his feet. As we all knew that he
could not make a speech, -in fact, had scarcely, till now,
attempted it, - curiosity was on tiptoe to catch his first sentence; but his consciousness that he had something good to
say for a moment choked his powers of utterance.  "Mr. President" (che-hee-hee), -" Mr. President," he at length managed
to say, "I take it that this is one of those questions that are
settled by the rule of eighteen to fourteen." [Throughout the
preceding session, every attempt to confirm one of Governor
Seward's nominees resulted in this entry in the journal: "Laid
on the table, - 18 to 14."] The hit was decided; the spectators roared; the Senator from the Fourth was shut up; and
the Senate proceeded to appoint the Whig nominees without
further opposition or demur. Mr. Tallmadge was soon reelected to the Senate, and everything put in order for the
decisive struggle of this eventful 1840.
128 
XVI I.
LOG-CABIN DAYS.
NEW YORK, which gave Mr. Van Buren the largest ma    jority of any State in 1836, had been held against him
throughout his administration, though she was his own State,
and he had therein a powerful body of devoted, personal
adherents, led by such men of eminent ability as Silas;Wright,
William L. Marcy, and Edwin Croswell.  She had been so
held by the talent, exertion, and vigilance of men equally
able and determined, among whom  Thurlow Weed, William
HI. Sewafd (now Governor), John C. Spencer, and Willis Hall
were conspicuous.  But our majority of 15,000 in'37 had
fallen to 10,000 in'38, and to 5,000 in'39, despite our best
efforts; Governor Seward's school recommendations and dispensation of State patronage had made him many enemies;
and the friends of Mr. Van Buren counted, with reason, on
carrying the State for his reelection, and against that of
Governor Seward, in the impending struggle of 1840. Pennsylvania, Ohio, Tennessee, and all the Northwest, had been
carried against the Whigs in the most recent contests; Mr.
Van Buren's star was clearly in the ascendant at the South;
while New England and New Jersey were nicely balanced,
Massachusetts, as well as Maine and New Hampshire, having
chosen a Democratic governor (Marcus Morton) in 1839. Mr.
Van Buren's Administration, though at first condemned, was
now sustained by a popular majority: New York alone- his
own State - stood forth the flagship of the Opposition.  Both
parties were silently preparing to put forth their very best
efforts in the Presidential contest in prospect; but fully two
9 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
thirds of the States, choosing about that proportion of the
electors, were now ranged on the Democratic side,- many of
them by impregnable majorities, -while scarcely one State
was unquestionably Whig.  Mr. Van Buren, when first overwhelmed by the popular surge that followed close upon the
collapse of the Pet Bank system, had calmly and with dignity
appealed to the people's "sober second thought"; and it now
seemed morally certain that he would be triumphantly reelected.
Such were the auspices under which the first Whig National
Convention (the second National Convention ever held by
any party,- that held in 1840 by the Democrats at Baltimore,
which nominated Van Buren and Johnson, having been the
first) assembled at Harrisburg, Pa., early in December, 1839.
Of its doings I was a deeply interested observer. The States
were nearly all represented, though in South Carolina there
were no Whigs but a handful; even the name was unknown
in Tennessee, and the party was feeble in several other States.
]ut the delegations convened included many names widely
and favorably known, - including two ex-Governors of Virginia (James Barbour and John Tyler), one of Kentucky
(Thomas Metcalf), one of Ohio (Joseph Vance), and at least
one from several other States. I recollect at least two exGovernors of Pennsylvania (John Andrew Shultze and Joseph
PBitner) as actively counselling and sympathizing with the
delegates.
The sittings of the Convention were protracted through
three or four days, during which several ballots for President
were taken. There was a plurality, though not a majority, in
favor of nominating Mr. Clay; but it was in good part composed of delegates from States which could not rationally be
expected to vote for any Whig candidate. On the other hand,
the delegates from Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana said,
"We can carry our States for General Harrison, but not for
Mr. Clay."  New York and  New Jersey cast their earlier
votes for General Scott, but stood ready to unite on General
Harrison whenever it should be clear that he could be nomi
130 
LOG-CABIN DAYS.
nated and elected; and they ultimately did so. The delegates
from Maine and Massachusetts contributed powerfully to
secure General Harrison's ultimate nomination. Each deleg,a tion cast its vote through a committee, and the votes were
added up by a general committee, which reported no names
and no figures, but simply that no choice had been effected;
until at length the Scott votes were all cast for Harrison, and
his nomination thus effected; when the result was proclaimed.
Governor Seward, who was in Albany (there were no tele graphs in those days), and Mr. Weed, who was present, and
very influential in producing the result, were strongly blamed
by the ardent, uncalculating supporters of Mr. Clay, as having
cheated him out of the nomination,- I could never see with
what reason. They judged that he could not be chosen, if
nominated, while another could be, and acted accordingly.
If politics do not meditate the achievement of beneficent ends
through the choice and use of the safest and most effective
means, I wholly misapprehend them.
Mr. John Tyler, with nearly or quite all his fellow-delegates from Virginia, was for Clay first, last, and all the time;
for him whether he could be elected or not. When it was
announced that Mr. Clay was defeated, he cried (so it was
reported); and that report (I think) gave him the nomination
for Vice-President without a contest.  It was an attempt of
the triumphant Harrisonites to heal the wounds of Mr. Clay's
devoted friends. Yet the nomination was, for several reasons,
a strong one. Mr. Tyler, though a Jackson man, had received,
in 1828, the votes for United States Senator of the Adams mnen
in the Virginia Legislature, and been thereby elected over
John Randolph. When Jackson removed the deposits from
the United States Bank, he united with the Whigs in publicy
condemning the act; and, having been superseded therefor,
he was thereafter regarded as a Whig. He had voted alone
in the Senate of 1832 - 33 against the Force bill, which provided for the collection of the Federal revenue in South Carolina in defiance of the nullifying ordinance of her Convention.
He had run for Vice-President on the White ticket in 1836,
131 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and so had acquired a hold on the Southern opponents of Van
Buren, which soon brought them all heartily into the support
of the Harrisburg ticket. In short, the Convention made the
strongest possible ticket, so far as success was regarded; and
the Democrats in attendance all felt, though they did not
confess it.  Every one who had eyes could see that they desired and worked for the nomination of Mr. Clay. One of
them, after the ticket was made, offered to bet that it would
not be elected; but, his offer being promptly accepted, and he
requested to name the amount, he hauled off. Inl short, we
left Harrisburg with that confidence of success which goes far
to secure its own justification; and we were greeted on our
way home as though the battle were already won.
But it was well understood that the struggle would be
desperate, especially in our State, and preparations were soon
in progress to render it effective.  Our adversaries now helped
us to our most effective weapons. They at once commenced
assailing General Harrison as an imbecile, dotard, granny,
&c., who had seen no real fighting, but had achieved a good
deal of tall running from the enemy; and one militia general,
Crary, who represented Michigan in the House, having made
a speech in this vein, provoked a response from Hon. Tom
Corwin of Ohio, which for wit, humor, and withering yet
good-natured sarcasm has rarely, if ever, been excelled. The
triumph was overwhelming; and, when the venerable and
grave John Quincy Adams, in a few casual remarks next
morning, spoke carelessly of "the late General Crary," a spon taneous roar attested the felicity of the allusion.
General Harrison had'lived many years after his removal
to Ohio in a log-house, and had been a poor man most of his
lie, as he still was. A Democratic journalist, scoffing at the
idea of electing such a man to the Presidency, smartly ob served, in substance, "Give him a log-cabin and a barrel of
hard cider, and he will stay content in Ohio, not aspiring to
the Presidency." The taunt was immediately caught up by
the Whigs: "log-cabins" and "hard cider" became watch  words of the canvass; and every hour the excitement and
enthusiasm swelled higher and higher.
132 
LOGCABIN DAYS.
But the Democratic party claimed an unbroken series of
triumphs in every Presidential election which it did not throw
away by its own dissensions; and, being now united, regarded
its success as inevitable. "You Whigs," said Dr. Duncan, of
Ohio, one of its most effective canvassers, "achieve great vic tories every day in the year but one, -that is the day of
election." It was certain that a party which had enjoyed the
ever-increasing patronage of the Federal Government for the
preceding twelve years, which wielded that of most of the
States also, and which was still backed by the popularity and
active sympathy of General Jackson, was not to be expelled
from power without the most resolute, persistent, systematic
exertions. Hence, it was determined in the councils of our
friends at Albany that a new campaign paper should be issued,
to be entitled The Log-Cabin; and I was chosen to conduct
it. No contributions were made or sought in its behalf. I
was to publish as well as edit it; it was to be a folio of good
size; and it was decided that fifteen copies should be sent for
the full term of six months (from May 1 to November 1)
for $ 5.
I had just secured a new partner (my fifth or sixth) of considerable business capacity, when this campaign sheet was
undertaken; and the immediate influx of subscriptions frightened and repelled him.  He insisted that the price was ruinous,-that the paper could not be afforded for so little,that we should inevitably be bankrupted by its enormous
eireulation,-and all my expostulations and entreaties were
unavailing against his fixed resolve to get out of the concern
at once. I therefore dissolved and settled with him, and was
left alone to edit and publish both The New-Yorker and The
Log-Cabin, as I had in 1838 edited, but not published, The
New-Yorker and The Jeffersonian.  Having neither steam
presses nor facilities for mailing, I was obliged to hire everything done but the head-work, which involved heavier outlays
than I ought to have had to meet.   I tried to make  The
Log-Cabin as effective as I could, with wood engravings of
General iHarrison's battle-scenes, music, &e., and to render it
4
133 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
a model of its kind; but the times were so changed that it
was more lively and less sedately argumentative than The
Jeffersonian.
Its circulation was entirely beyond precedent. I fixed the
edition of No. 1 at 30,000; but before the close of the week
I was obliged to print 10,000 more; and even this was too
few. The weekly issues ran rapidly up to 80,000, and might
have been increased, had I possessed ample facilities for
printing and mailing, to 100,000. With the machinery of
distribution by news companies, expresses, &c., now existing,
I guess that it might have been swelled to a quarter of a
million. And, though I made very little money by it, I gave
every subscriber an extra number containing the results of
the election. After that, I continued the paper for a full year
longer; having a circulation for it of 10,000 copies, which
about paid the cost, counting my work as editor nothing.
* The Log-Cabin was but an incident, a feature of the canvass. Briefly, we Whigs took the lead, and kept it throughout.   Our opponents struggled manfully, desperately;  but'
wind and tide were against them. They had campaign and
other papers, good speakers, and large meetings; but we were
far ahead of them in singing, and in electioneering emblems
and mottoes which appealed to popular sympathies. The
elections held next after the Harrisburg nominations were
local, buf they all went our way; and the State contests,
which soon followed, amply confirmed their indications. In
September, Maine held her State election, and chose the WVhig
candidate for Governor (Edward Kent) by a small majority,
but on a very full vote. The Democrats did not concede his
election till after the vote for President, in November. Pennsylvania, in October,  gave a small Democratic majority;
but we insisted that it could be overcome when we came to
vote for Harrison, and it was. In October, Ohio, Indiana,
and Georgia all gave decisive Harrison majorities, rendering
the great result morally certain. Yet, when the Presidential
134 
LOG-CABIN DAYS.
electors chosen were fully ascertained, even the most sanguine
among us were astounded by the completeness of our triumph.
We had given General Harrison the electoral votes of all but
the seven States of New Hampshire, Virginia, South Carolina,
Alabama, Illinois, Missouri, and Arkansas, -60 in all, 
while our candidate had 234; making his the heaviest majority by which any President had ever been chosen. New
York, where each party had done its best, had been carried
for him by 13,290 majority; but Governor Seward had been
reelected by only 5,315. With any other candidate for President, he could scarcely have escaped defeat.
I judge that there were not many who had done more
effective work in the canvass than I had; but I doubt that
General Harrison ever heard my name.  I never visited nor
wrote him; I was not of the throng that surrounded him on
reaching Washington, -in fact, I did not visit that city, in
1841, until after his most untimely death. I received the
news of that calamity on landing one morning from an Albany
steamboat; and I mournfully realized, on the instant, that it
was no common disaster, but far-reaching in its malign influence.  General Harrison was never a great man, but he had
good sense, was moderate in his views, and tolerant of adverse
convictions; he truly loved and aspired to serve his country,
and was at the summit of a broadly based and substantial
popularity which, had he lived out his term, would have
averted many impending evils. Our country, in my view,
had lost many abler men, but none that she could so ill spare
since Washington. He was President for one short month;
and then the hopes born of his election were suddenly buried
in his grave.
135 
XVIII.
THE TRIBUNE.
N the tenth day of April, 1841, - a day of most unseason      able chill and sleet and snow, - our city held her great
funeral parade and pageant in honor of our lost President, who
had died six days before.  General Robert Bogardus, the venerable Grand Marshal of the parade, died not long afterward
of exposure to its inclemencies.   On that leaden, funereal
morning, the most inhospitable of the year, I issued the first
number of TIIE NEW YORK TRIBUNE. It was a small sheet,
for it was to be retailed for a cent, and not much of a newspaper could be afforded for that price, even in those speciepaying times., I had been incited to this enterprise by several Whig friends, who deemed a cheap daily, addressed more
especially to the laboring class, eminently needed in our city,
where the only two cheap journals then and still existingThe Sun and The Herald -were in decided, though unavowed, and therefore more effective, sympathy and affiliation
with the Demlocratic party.   Two  or three had promised
pecuniary aid if it should be needed; only one (Mr. James
Coggeshall, long since deceased) ever made good that promise,
by loaning me one thousand dollars, which was duly and
gratefully repaid, principal and interest. I presume others
would have helped me had I asked it; but I never did. Mr.
Dudley S. Gregory, who had voluntarily loaned me one thlousand dollars to sustain The New-Yorker in the very darkest
hour of my fortunes, in 1837, and whom I had but recently
repaid, was among my most trusted friends in the outset of
my new enterprise also; but I was able- to prosecute it without taxing (I no longer needed to test) his generosity. 
THE TRIBUNE.
My leading idea was the establishment of a journal removed alike from servile partisanship on the one hand and
from gagged, mincing neutrality on the other.  Party spirit
is so fierce and intolerant in this country that the editor of
a non-partisan sheet is restrained from saying what he thinks
and feels on the most vital, imminent topics; while, on the
other hand, a Democratic, Whig, or PRepublican journal is
generally expected to praise or blame, like or dislike, eulogize
or condemn, in precise accordance with the views and interest
of its party. I believed there was a happy medium between
these extremes, -a position from which a journalist might
openly and heartily advocate the principles and commend
the measures of that party to which his convictions allied
him, yet frankly dissent from its course on a particular question, and even denounce its candidates if they were shown to
be deficient in capacity or (far worse) in integrity. I felt that
a journal thus loyal to its guiding convictions, yet ready to
expose and condemn unworthy conduct or incidental error on
the part of men  attached to its party, must be far more
effective, even party-wise, than though it might always be
counted on to applaud or reprobate, bless or curse, as the
party's prejudices or immediate interest might seem to prescribe. Especially by the Whigs- who were rather the
loosely aggregated, mainly undisciplined opponents of a great
party, than, in the stricter sense, a party themselves- did
I feel that such a journal was consciously needed, and would
be fairly sustaine~/ I had been a pretty constant and copious
contributor (generally unpaid) to nearly or quite every cheap
Whig journal that had, from time to time, been started in our
city; most of them to fail after a very brief, and not particularly bright career; but one - The New York TWhig, which
was, throughout most of its existence, under the dignified and
conscientious direction of Jacob B. MAoore, formerly of The
New Hampshire Journal -had been continued through two
or three years.  My familiarity with its history and management gave me confidence that the right sort of a cheap Whig
journal would be enabled to live. I had been ten years in
137 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
New York, was thirty years old, in full health and vigor, and
worth, I presume, about two thousand dollars, half of it in
printing materials. The Jeffersonian, and still more The LogCabin, had made me favorably known to many thousands of
those who were most likely to take such a paper as I proposed to make The Tribune, while The New-Yorker had
given me some literary standing and the reputation of a useful and well-informed compiler of election returns. In short,
I was in a better position to undertake the establishment of
a daily newspaper than the great mass of those who try it
and fail, as most who make the venture do and rmust. I presume the new journals (in English) since started in this city.
number not less than one hundred, whereof barely two - The
Times and The World -can be fairly said to be still living;
and The World is a mausoleum wherein the remains of The
Evening Star, The American, and The Courier and Enquirer
lie inurned; these having long ago swallowed sundry of their
predecessors.   Yet several of those which have meantime
lived their little hour and passed away were conducted by
men of decided ability and ripe experience, and were backed
by a pecuniary capital at least twenty times greater than the
fearfully inadequate sum whereon I started The Tribune.
On the intellectual side, my venture was not so rash as it
seemed. My own fifteen years' devotion to newspaper-making,, in all its phases, was worth far more than will be generally supposed; and I had already secured a first assistant
in Mr. Henry J. RPaymond, who- having  for two years,
while in college at Burlington, Vt., been a valued contributor
to the literary side of The New-Yorker- had hied to the city
directly upon graduating, late in 1840, and gladly accepted
my offer to hire him at eight dollars per week until he could
do better.  I had not much for him to do till The Tribune
was started: then I had enough: and I never found another
person, barely of age and just from his studies, who evinced
so signal and such versatile ability in journalism as he did.
Abler and stronger men I may have met; a cleverer, readier,
more generally efficient journalist, I never saw. He remained
138 
THE TRIBUNE.
with me nearly eight years, if my memory serves, and is the
only assistant with whom I ever felt required to remonstrate
for doing more work than any human brain and frame could
be expected long to endure. His salary was of course gradually increased from time to time; but his services were more
valuable in proportion to their cost than those of any one else
who ever aided me on The Tribune.
Mr. George M. Snow, a friend of my own age, who had had
considerable mercantile experience, took charge of the Financial or Wall-Street department (then far less important than
it now is), and retained it for more than twenty-two years;
becoming ultimately a heavy stockholder in, and a trustee of,
the concern; resigning his trust only when (in 1863) he departed for Europe in ill health; returning but to die two
years later. A large majority of those who aided in preparing or in issuing the first number had preceded or have followed Mr. Snow to the Silent Land; but two remain, and
are now Foreman and Engineer respectively in the Printing Department, -both stockholders and trustees.  Others,
doubtless, survive, who were with us then, but have long
since drifted away to the West, to the Pacific slope, or into
some other employment, and the places that once knew them
know  them  no  more.   Twenty-six years witness  many
changes, especially in a city like ours, a position like mine;
and I believe that the only men who were Editors of New
York dailies before me, and who still remain such, are Mr.
William Cullen Bryant of The Evening Post, and Mr. James
Gordon Bennett of The Herald.
About five hundred names of subscribers had already been
obtained for The Tribune- mainly by my warm personal and
political friends, Noah Cook and James Coggeshall - before
its first issue, whereof I printed five thousand, and nearly
succeeded in giving away all of them that would not sell. I
had type, but no presses; and' so had to hire my press-work
done by the "token"; my folding and mailing must have
139 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
staggered me but for the circumstance that I had few papers
to mail, and not very many to fold.  The lack of the present
machinery of railroads and expresses was a grave obstacle
to the circulation of my paper outside of the city's suburbs;
but I think its paid-for issues were two thousand at the close
of the first week, and that they thenceforth increased pretty
steadily, at the rate of five hundred per week, till they reached
ten thousand. My current expenses for the first week were
about five hundred and twenty-five dollars; my receipts
ninety-two dollars; and, though the outgoes steadily, inevitably increased, the income increased in a still larger ratio, till
it nearly balanced the former.   But I was not made for a
publisher; indeed, no man was ever qualified at once to edit
and to publish a daily paper such as it must be to live in
these times; and it was not until Mr. Thomas MIcElrathwhom I had barely known as a member of the publishing
firm over whose store I first set type in this city, but who
was now a lawyer in good standing and practice - made me
a voluntary and wholly unexpected proffer of partnership in
my still struggling but hopeful enterprise, that it might be
considered fairly on its feet. He offered to invest two thousand dollars as an equivalent to whatever I had in the business, and to devote his time and energies to its management,
on the basis of perfect equality in ownership and in sharing
the proceeds. This I very gladly accepted; and from that
hour my load was palpably lightened.   During the ten years
or over that The Tribune was issued by Greeley & MeElrath,
my partner never once even indicated that my anti-Slavery,
anti-Hanging, Socialist, and other frequent aberrations from
the straight and narrow path of Whig partisanship, were injurious to our common interest, though he must often have
sorely felt that they were so; and never, except when I
(rarely) drew from the common treasury more money than
could well be spared, in order to help some needy friend
whom he judged beyond help, did he even look grieved at
anything I did,- On the other hand, his business management
of the concerrif, though never brilliant, nor specially energetic,
140 
THE TRIBUNE.
was so safe and judicious that it gave me no trouble, and
scarcely required of me a thought, during that long era of all
but unclouded prosperity.
The transition from my four preceding years of incessant
pecuniary anxiety, if not absolute embarrassment, was like
escaping from the dungeon and the rack to freedom and sympathy.   Henceforth, such rare pecuniary troubles as I encountered were the just penalties of my own folly in indorsing notes for persons who, in the nature of things, could not
rationally be expected to pay them. But these penalties are
not to be evaded by those who, soon after entering responsible
life, "go into business," as the phrase is, when it is inevitable
that they must be thereby involved in debt.  He whq starts
on the basis of dependence on his own proper resources, resolved to extend his business no further and no faster than
his means will justify, may fairly refuse to lend what he
needs in his own operations, or to indorse for others when he
asks no one to indorse for him.  But you cannot ask favors,
and then churlishly refuse to grant any, -borrow, and then
frown upon whoever asks you to lend, -  seek indorsements,
but decline to give any: and so the idle, the prodigal, the
dissolute, with the thousands foredoomed by their own defects of capacity, of industry, or of management, to chronic
bankruptcy, live upon the earnings of the capable, thrifty,
and provident.   Better wait five years to go into business
upon adequate means which are properly your own, than to
rush in prematurely, trusting to loans, indorsements, and the
forbearance of creditors, to help you through. I have squandered much hard-earned money in trying to help others who
were already past help, when I not only might, but should,
have saved most of it if I had never, needing help, sought and
received it. As it is, I trust that my general obligation has
-been fully discharged.
The Tribune, as it first appeared, was but the germ of what
I sought to make it. No journal sold for a cent could ever
be much more than a dry summary of the most important or
the most interesting occurrences of the day; and such is not
141 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
a newspaper, in the higher sense of the term. We need to
know, not only what is done, but what is purposed and said,
by those who sway the destinies of states and realms; and,
to this end, the prompt perusal of the manifestoes of monarchs, presidents, ministers, legislators, etc., is indispensable.
No man is even tolerably informed in our day who does not
regularly "keep the run" of events and opinions, through the
daily perusal of at least one good journal; and the ready cavil
that "no one can read" all that a great modern journal contains, only proves the ignorance or thoughtlessness of the
caviller.  No one person is expected to take such an interest
in the rise and fall of stocks, the markets for cotton, cattle,
grain, and goods, the proceedings of Congress, Legislatures,
and Courts, the politics of Europe, and the ever-shifting
phases of Spanish-American anarchy, etc., etc., as would incite him to a daily perusal of the entire contents of a metropolitan city journal of the first rank.  The idea is rather to
embody in a single sheet the information daily required by
all ethose who  aim to keep "posted" on every important
occurrence; so that the lawyer, the merchant, the banker, the
forwarder, the economist, the author, the politician, etc., may
find here whatever he needs to see, and be spared the trouble
of looking elsewhere. A copy of a great morning journal now
contains more matter than an average twelvemo volume, and
its production costs far more, while it is sold for a fortieth or
fiftieth part of the volume's price. There is no other miracle
of cheapness which at all approaches it. The Electric Telegraph has precluded the multiplication of journals in the
great cities, by enormously increasing the cost of publishing
each of them. The Tribune, for example, now pays more
than one hundred thousand dollars per annum for intellectual
labor (reporting included) in and about its office, and one
hundred thousand dollars more for correspondence and telegraphing, -in other words, for collecting and transmitting
news.  And, while its income has been largely increased from
year to year, its expenses have inevitably been swelled even
more rapidly; so that, at the close of 1866, in which its
142 
THE TRIBUNE.
receipts had been over nine hundred thousand dollars, its
expenses had been very nearly equal in amount, leaving no
profit beyond a fair rent for the premises it owned and occupied. And yet its stockholders were satisfied that they had
done a good business,- that the increase in the patronage
and value of the establishment amounted to a fair interest on
their investment, and might well be accepted in lieu of a
dividend. In the good time coming, with cheaper paper and less
exorbitant charges for "cable despatches" from the Old World,
they will doubtless reap where they have now faithfully
sown. Yet they realize and accept the fact, that a journal
radically hostile to the gainful arts whereby the cunning and
powerful few live sumptuously without useful labor, an. often
amass wealth, by pandering to lawless sensuality and popular
vice, can never hope to enrich its publishers so rapidly nor so
vastly as though it had a soft side for the Liquor Traffic, and
for all kindred allurements to carnal appetite and sensual
indulgence.
Fame is a vapor; popularity an accident; riches take wings;
the only earthly certainty is oblivion; no man can foresee
what a day may bring forth; while those who cheer to-day
will often curse to-morrow: and.yet I cherish the hope that
the journal I projected and established will live and flourish
long after I shall have mouldered into forgotten dust, being
guided by a larger wisdom, a more unerring sagacity to discern the right, though not by a more unfaltering readiness to
embrace and defend it at whatever personal cost; and that
the stone which covers my ashes may bear to future eyes the
still intelligible inscription, "Founder of The New York
Tribune."
143 
XIX.
SOCIALISM.
HE Winter of 1837-38, though happily mild and open
till far into January, was one of pervading destitution
and suffering in our city, from paralysis of business and consequent dearth of employment.  The liberality of those who
could and would give was heavily taxed to save from famishing the tens of thousands who, being needy and unable to
find employment, first ran into debt so far as they could, and
thenceforth must be helped or starve. For, in addition to all
who may be said to belong here, legions of laborers, servants,
etc., are annually dismissed in Autumn from the farms, country-seats, and watering-places of the suburban districts, and
drift down to the city, whence they were mainly hired;
vaguely hoping to find work here, which a small part of them
do: the rest live on the good-nature of relatives, if such they
have here; or on credit from boarding-houses, landlords, or
grocers, so long as they can; and then make their choice
between roguery and beggary, or change from this to that, or
take them mixed, as chance may dictate. Since the general
diffusion of railroads and the considerable extension of our
manufacturing industry, business is far more equable than it
was, even in prosperous times, thirty years ago; but Winter is
still a season of privation and suffering to many thousands
who live in tolerable comfort through the warmer seasons.
To say that ten thousand young persons here' annually take
their first lessons in debauchery and crime would be to keep
quite within the truth; and, while passion, ignorance, and
miseducation ruin their thousands, I judge that destitution 
SOCIALISM.
flowing from involuntary idleness sends more men and women
to perdition, in this city, than any other cause,- intemperance
possibly excepted.
I lived that Winter in the Sixth Ward, -then, as now,
eminent for filth, squalor, rags, dissipation, want, and misery.
A public meeting of its citizens was duly held early in December, and an organization formed thereat, by which committees were appointed to canvass the Ward from house to
house, collect funds from those who could and would spare
anything, ascertain the nature and extent of the existing destitution, and devise ways and means for its systematic relief.
Very poor myself, I could give no money, or but a mite; so I
gave time instead, and served, through several days, on one
of the visiting committees.   I thus saw extreme destitution
more closely than I had ever before observed it, and was
enabled to scan its repulsive features intelligently. I saw
two families, including six or eight children, burrowing in one
cellar under a stable,- a prey to famine on the one hand, and
to vermin and cutaneous maladies on the other, with sickness
adding its horrors to those of a polluted atmosphere and a
wintry temperature. I saw men who each, somehow, supported his family on an income of $ 5 per week or less, yet
who cheerfully gave something to mitigate the sufferings of
those who were really poor. I saw three widows, with as
many children, living in an attic on the profits of an applestand which yielded less than $ 3 per week, and the landlord
came in for a full third of that. But worst to bear of all was
the pitiful plea of stout, resolute, single young men and young
women: "We do not want alms; we are not beggars; we hato
to sit here day by day idle and useless; help us to work,- we
want no other help: why is it that we can have nothing to do?"
I pondered these scenes at intervals throughout the next
two or three years, and was impelled thereby to write for The
New-Yorker - I think, in the WAVinter of 1839 - 40 - a series
of articles entitled, "What shall be done for the Laborer?"
I believe these attracted the attention of Mr. Albert Brisbane,
a young man of liberal education and varied culture, a native
10
145
t 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUTSY LIFE.
of Batavia, N. Y., which he still regarded as his home, but
who had travelled widely and observed thoughtfully; making
the acquaintance in Paris of the school of Socialists called
(after their founder) St. Simonials, and that also of Charles
Fourier, the founder of a different school which had been
distinguished by his name. Robert Owen, by his experiments
at New Lanark and his " New Views of Society," was the first
in this century to win public attention to Socialism, though
(I believe) Fourier had not only speculated, but written, before
either of his co-laborers. But Owen was an extensive and
successful manufacturer; St. Simon was a soldier, and the heir
of a noble family; while Fourier was a poor clerk, reserved
and taciturn, whose hard, dogmatic, algebraic style seemed
expressly calculated to discourage readers and repel adherents;
so that his disciples were few indeed, down to the date of his
death in 1837. Mr. Brisbane, returning not long afterward
from Europe, prepared and published his first work- which
was an exposition and commendation of Fourier's industrial
system - in 1840.  My acquaintance with the author and his
work commenced soon afterward.
I sum up these three competing projects of Social Reform
as follows:
Owen.- Place human beings in proper relations, under favoring circumstances (among which I include Education and
Intelligence), and they will do right rather than wrong.
Hitherto, the heritage of the great majority has been filth,
squalor, famine, ignorance, superstition; and these have impelled many to indolence and vice, if not to crime. Make
their external conditions what they should be, and these will
give place to industry, sobriety, and virtue.
St. Simon.-" Love is the fulfilling of the law."  Secure to
every one opportunity; let each do whatever he can do best;
and the highest good of the whole will be achieved and perpetuated.
Fourier.- Society, as we find it, is organized rapacity. Half
of its force is spent in repressing or resisting the jealousies
and rogueries of its members. We need to organize Universal
146 
SOCIALISM.1
Justice based on Science. The true Eden lies before, not
behind us. We may so provide that Labor, now repulsive,
shall be attractive; while its efficiency in production shall
be increased by the improvement of machinery and the extended use of natural forces, so as to secure abundance, education, and elegant luxury, to all. What is needed is to
provide all with homes, employment, instruction, good living,
the most effective implements, machinery, &c., securing to
each the fair and full recompense of his achievement; and
this can best be attained through the association of some four
to five hundred families in a common household, and in the
ownership and cultivation of a common domain, say of 2,000
acres, or about one acre to each person living thereon.
I accept, unreservedly, the views of no man, dead or living.
The master has said it," was never conclusive with me.
Even though I have found him right nine times, I do not
take his'tenth proposition on trust; unless that also be proved
sound and rational, I reject it. But I am convinced, after
much study and reflection, that the Social Reformers are right
on many points, even when clearly wrong on others; and I
deem Fourier-  though in many respects erratic, mistaken,
visionary-the most suggestive and practical among them.
I accept nothing on his authority; for I find many of his
speculations fantastic, erroneous, and (in my view) pernicious;
but on many points he commands my unreserved concurrence. Yet I prefer to set forth my own Social creed rather
than his, even wherein mine was borrowed from his teachings;
and mine is, briefly, as follows: -
I. I believe that there need be, and should be, no paupers
who are not infantile, idiotic, or disabled; and that civilized
society pays more for the support of able-bodied pauperism
than the necessary cost of its extirpation.
II. I believe that they babble idly and libel Providence
who talk of surplus Labor, or the inadequacy of Capital to
supply employment to all who need it. Labor is often most
147 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
required and best paid where Capital is scarcest (as was shown
in California in 1849- 50); and there is always   even in
China - far more work than hands, provided the ability to
devise and direct be not wanting. Where Labor stands idle,
save in the presence of some great public calamity, there is a
demonstrated deficiency, not of Capital, but of brains.
III. I believe that the efficiency of human effort is enormously, ruinously diminished by what I term Social Anarchy.
That is to say: "We spend half our energies in building fences
and providing safeguards against each other's roguery, while
our labor is rendered inefficient and inadequately productive
by bad management, imperfect implements, a deficiency of
power (animal or steam), and the inability of our producers
to command and wield the most effective machinery.  It is
quite within the truth to estimate the annual product of our
National Industry at less than one half what it might be if
better applied and directed.
IV. Inefficiency in production is paralleled by waste in
consumption. Insects and vermin devour at least one fourth
of the farmer's harvests, which inadequate fertilizing and unskilful cultivation have already reduced far below the proper
aggregate. A thousand cooks are required, and a thousand
fires maintained, to prepare badly the food of a township;
when a dozen fires and a hundred cooks might do it far better,
and with a vast saving in quantity as well as improvement in
quality. [I judge that the cooks of Paris would subsist One
Million persons on the food consumed or wasted by Six Hun dred Thousand in this city; feeding them better than they are
now fed, and prolonging their lives by an average of five years.]
V. Youth should be a season of instruction in Industry
and the Useful Arts, as well as in Letters and the Sciences
mastered by their aid. Each child should be trained to skill
and efficiency in productive Labor. The hours of children
should be alternately devoted to Labor, Study, and Recreation,
-say, two hours to each before, and a like allotment after,
dinner each secular day. Thus each child would grow up an
adept, not merely in letters, but in arts,- a skilful worker as
148 
149
SOCIALISM.
well as a proficient in the lessons of the school-room,- able to
do well, not one thing only, but many things,- familiar with
mechanical as well as agricultural processes, and acquainted
with the use of steam and the direction of machinery. Not
till one has achieved the fullest command, the most varied
use, of all his faculties and powers, can he be properly said to
be educated.
VI. Isolation is at war with efficiency and with progress.
As "iron sharpeneth iron," so are man's intellectual and inventive faculties stimulated by contact with his fellow-men.
A nation of herdsmen, dwelling in movable tents, invents
little or nothing, and makes no progress, or next to none.
Serfdom was the general condition of the laboring class in
Europe, until aggregation in cities and manufactories, difd
fusing intelligence, and nourishing aspiration, wrought its
downfall.
VII. The poor work at perpetual disadvantage in isolation,
because of the inadequacy of their means. Let us suppose
that four or five hundred heads of families propose to embark
in Agriculture. Each buys his little farm, his furniture, his
implements, animals, seeds, fertilizers, &c., &c., and - though
he has purchased nothing that he does not urgently needhe finds his means utterly exhausted, and iis farm and future
exertions heavily burdened by debt. He hopes and labors to
clear off the mortgage; but flood and drouth, frost and fire,
work against him; his poverty compels him to do without
many implements, and to plough or team with inadequate force;
he runs up an account at the store, and pays twenty per cent.
extra for his goods, because others, who buy on credit, fail to
pay at all; and so he struggles on, till his strength fails, and
he dies oppressed with debt. Such is the common lot.
VIII. Association would have these unite to purchase, inhabit, and cultivate a common domain,- say, of two thousand
acres, -whereby these advantages over the isolated system
would be realized:  1. One fourth (at most) of the land required under the old
system would be found abundant. 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
2. It could be far better allotted and appropriated to Grain,
Grass, Fruits, Forest, Garden, &c.
3. The draught animals that were far too few, when dispersed
among five hundred owners, on so many different farms, would
be amply sufficient for a common domain.
4. Steam or water power could now be economically employed for a hundred purposes- cutting and sawing timber,
threshing and grinding grain, ploughing the soil, and for
many household uses -where the small farmer could not
think of employing it.
5. Industry would find new and powerful incentives in the
observation and praise or censure of the entire community;
uniforms, banners; and music, with the rivalry of bands of
competing workers, would provoke emulation and lighten
labor; while such recreations as dramas, concerts, readings,
&c.,- now utterly beyond the reach of rural workers,- would
give a new zest to life. At present, our youth escape from
rural industry when they can,- not that they really hate
work, but that they find their leisure hours even duller and
less endurable than those they give to rugged toil.
I must devote another chapter to a narration of my experiences as an advocate of the views above set forth, and a brief
account of the efforts made within my knowledge to give them
practical exemplification. That these efforts resulted in failtires the world already knows: I will endeavor to set forth
the facts dispassionately, so as to afford fair grounds for judgment as to how far these failures are due to circumstances,
and how far they may be fairly charged to the system itself.
I shall endeavor to lay little of the blame on well-abused
Human Nature; since, if any system be ill adapted to Man
as we find him, it may be excellently calculated for use on
some other planet, but not on this one.
150 
xx.
SOCIALISTIC EFFORTS.
THE  propagation in this country of Fourier's ideas of
Industrial Association was wholly pioneered by Mr. A.
Brisbane, who presented them in a series of articles in The
Tribune, beginning in 1841, and running through two or three
years. The Future- a weekly entirely devoted to the subject- was issued for a few weeks, but received no considerable
support, and was therefore discontinued. The Harbinger, a
smaller weekly, was afterward issued from the Brook Farm
Association, and sustained - not without loss - for two or
three years.   Meantime, several treatises, explaining and
commending the system, were published, - the best of them
being "Democracy, Pacific and Constructive," by Mr. Parke
Godwin, now of The Evening Post. The problem was further
discussed in a series of controversial letters between Mr. Henry
J. Raymond and myself. Thus, by persevering effort, the
subject was thrust, as it were, on public attention; a few
zealous converts made to the new ideas, and probably more
vehement adversaries aroused; while the far greater number
could not be induced to read or consider, but regarded all
Socialist theories with stubborn indifference.   Those  who
were in good circumstances, or hoped yet to be, wished no
such change as was contemplated by the new theories; the
ignorant, stolid many, who endure lives of destitution and
squalid misery, were utterly devoid of faith or hope, receiving
with profound incredulity and distrust any proposal to improve their condition. My observation justifies the belief,
that the most conservative of mankind, when not under the
0 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
influence of some great, convulsive uprising like the French
Revolution, are those who have nothing to lose.
Of the practical attempts to realize our social Utopia, I
believe that known as "Brook Farm," in Roxbury, Mass., ten
miles from Boston, was first in the order of time, and notable
in many  other respects.   Its  projectors were  cultivated,
scholarly persons, who were profoundly dissatisfied with the
aims, as well as the routine, of ordinary life, and who welcomed in theoretic Socialism a fairer and nobler ideal. So
they bought a cold, grassy farm of two hundred acres, added
two or three new buildings to those which had served the
last preceding owner, and bravely took possession. New
members joined from time to time, as others left; the land
was improved, and, I believe, some was added; boarders were
taken occasionally; a school was started and maintained; and
so the concern fared on through some five or six years. But,
deficient in capital, in agricultural skill, and in many needful
things besides, it was never a pecuniary success, and was
fipally given up about 1847 or'48,- paying its debts, I understood, to the last dime, but returning nothing to its stockholders. I believe this was the only attempt made in New
England.
From this city, two bands of Socialist pioneers went forth,
-one to a rugged, lofty region in Pike County, Pa., five
miles from the Erie RPailroad at the mouth of the Lackawaxen,
which they called "Sylvania," after the State. The domain
here purchased was ample, - some 2,300 acres; the location
was healthy, and there was abundance of wood and water.
But the soil was stony and'poor; the altitude was such that
there was a heavy frost on the 4th of July, 1844; the members were generally very poor, and in good part inefficient
also; and the crops harvested were slender enough. I think
"Sylvania" was founded early in 1843, and gave  up the
ghost-having little else to give up - some time in 1845.
Its domain returned to the seller or his assigns, in satisfaction
of his mortgage, and its movables nearly or quite paid its
debts, leaving its stock a total loss.
152 
SOCIALISTIC EFFORTS.
The " North American Phalanx" had more vitality and a
better location. The nucleus of its membership was formed
in Albany, though it drew associates from every quarter.
Several of them were capable mechanics, traders, and farmers.
It was located in Shrewsbury, Monmouth County, N. J., five
miles from the dock at Red Bank, on a farm of 673 acres,
originally good land, but worn out by most improvident,
thriftless cultivation, so that it was bought for less than $ 23
per acre, which was its full value. But there was an ample
bed of marl on its eastern border, considerable timber along
its creeks, two or three very dilapidated farm buildings, and
a few large, old apple-trees, which were just better than none.
Here we few, but zealous, Associationists of New York and
its vicinity for a time concentrated our means and our
efforts; each subscribing freely to the capital, and then aiding
the enterprise by loans to nearly an equal amount. I think
the capital ultimately invested here (loans included) was fully
$100,000, or about one fourth the amount there should have
been. By means thereof, a capacious wooden dwelling, one
or two barns, and a fruit-house were erected, thousands of
loads of marl dug and applied to the land, large orchards were
planted and reared to maturity, and a mile square of sterile,
exhausted land converted into a thrifty and productive domain. The experiment was finally abandoned, on the heel
of a heavy loss sustained in the burning of our fruit-house,
which, with some other set-backs, discouraged some of the
best associates, and caused them to favor a dissolution. There
was no pecuniary failure, in the ordinary acceptation of the
term. The property was sold out at auction, - the domain
in tracts of ten to eighty acres, - and, though it brought not
more than two thirds of its cash value, every debt was paid,
and each stockholder received back about 65 per cent. oft his
investment with interest. I reckon that not many stockholders in gold-mines or oil-wells can show a better result
(I can speak of gold-mines from personal experience; oilwells -being older when they came into vogue - I have
carefully kept out of.) As I recollect, the " North American
153 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
Phalanx" was founded in 1843, and wound up about 1850,
when I think no sister Association was left to deplore its fate.
Its means had been larger, its men and women, in the average,
more capable and devoted, than those of any rival; if it could
not live, there was no hope for any of them.
A serious obstacle to the success of any Socialist experiment must always be confronted. I allude to the kind of
persons who are naturally attracted to it. Along with many
noble and lofty souls, whose impulses are purely philanthropic,
and who are willing to labor and suffer reproach for any cause
that promises to benefit mankind, there throng scores of
whom the world is quite worthy,-the conceited, the crotchety,
the selfish, the headstrong, the pugnacious, the unappreciated,
the played-out, the idle, and the good-for-nothing generally;
who, finding themselves utterly out of place and at a discount
in the world as it is, rashly conclude that they are exactly
fitted for the world as it ought to be. These may have failed
again and again, and been protested at every bank to which
they have been presented; yet they are sure to jump into any
new movement, as if they had been born expressly to superintend and direct it, though they are morally certain to ruin
whatever they lay their hands on. Destitute of means, of
practical ability, of prudence, tact, and common sense, they
have such a wealth of assurance and of self-confidence that they
clutch the responsible positions, which the capable and worthy
modestly shrink from: so responsibilities that would tax the
ablest are mistakenly devolved on the blindest and least fit.
Many an experiment is thus wrecked, when, engineered by
its best members, it might have succeeded.   I judge not what
may be done and borne by a mature, thoroughly organized
Association; but a pioneer, half-fledged experiment- lacking
means, experience, edifices, everything - can bear no extra
weight, but needs to be composed of, and directed by, most
efficient, devoted, self-sacrificing men and women.
That there have been- nay, are- decided successes in
practical Socialism, is undeniable; but they all have that
Communistic basis which seems to me irrational, and calcu
154 
SOCIALISTIC EFFORTS.
lated to prove fatal. I cannot conceive it just, that an associate who invests $100,000 should stand on an equal footing,
so far as property is concerned, with one who brings nothing
to the common fund; nor can I see why an ingenious, efficient
mechanic, whose services are worth $ 5 per day, should receive
no more of the annual product than an ignorant ditcher, who
can at best earn but $ 2 per day. To my mind, every one is
fairly entitled to what he has earned, and to what he shall
earn, unless he chooses to bestow it on some one else; and I
hold, with Fourier, that Communism must destroy individual
liberty. Credit me on the books with what I invested, and
what I have since earned or otherwise added to the common
wealth; and, if I choose to spend my day with a visiting
friend, or go off for a week's fishing, it is no one's business
but my own. But, say that all we have and all we make are
common property, wherein each has rightfully an equal interest, and I shall feel morally bound to do my share of the
work, and shall be dissatisfied when others palpably do less
than I do. Hence, I can easily account for the failure of
Communism,- at New Harmony, and in several other experiments; I cannot so easily account for its successes.  Yet the
fact stares us in the face, that, while hundreds of banks and
factories, and thousands of mercantile concerns managed by
shrewd, strong men, have gone into bankruptcy and perished,
Shaker Communities, established more than sixty years ago,
upon a basis of little property and less worldly wisdom, are
living and prosperous to-day. And their experience has been
imitated by the German Communities at Economy, Pa., Zoar,
Ohio, the Society of Ebenezer, &c., &c. Theory, however
plausible, must respect the facts.
I once visited the Society of Ebenezer, when it was located
on lands seven miles from Buffalo, not long before surrendered
by the Tonawanda Indians. The members were nearly all
Prussians, led by a rich nobleman, who had- invested his all
in the common fund, and led his followers to this country,
where they first located near Buffalo as aforesaid, but have
since sold, and migrated to cheaper land, away from any great
155 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
city, in Iowa.  I did not see the "head centre," but the second
man was from the Zoar Community, and I had a free talk
with him, part of which (in substance) is worth recalling:  "What do you do with lazy people?" I inquired.
"We have none," he promptly replied. "We have often
disciplined members for working too hard and too long; for,
whatever the world may think of us, we profess to be associated for spiritual edification, not temporal gain; and we do
not desire our people to become absorbed in drudgery and
money-getting."
"Yes, I understand," I persisted; "but suppose you had a
lazy member: how would you treat him? How does your
discipline provide for the possible contingency of his attaining
to the membership of your body?"
"In this way only: we are a brotherhood and sisterhood
for spiritual, not temporal, ends. Our temporal relations are
a consequence of our spiritual union. For spiritual growth
and improvement, we are divided into four classes, according
to our presumed religious advancement respectively. If, tlhen,
a member of the fourth (highest) class were to evince a lazy,
shirking disposition, he would, after some private admonition,
be reported by that class to the next general meeting, as not
sufficiently developed, or endued with Divine grace, for that
class; and, on that report, he would be reduced to the third
class. If, after due probation, he should evince a slothful
spirit there, he would be reported by that class, as he had
been by the higher; and, on this report, be reduced to the
second class; and, on the report of this, in like manner, to
the first or lowest class, -that which includes young children
and all wholly undeveloped natures. Theoretically, this would
be our course; we know no further or other discipline than
this: practically, no occasion for such discipline has arisen.
We often discipline members for working too much or too
persistently; never for working too little."
I do not believe men naturally lazy; but I judge that they
prefer to receive the fair recompense of their labor,- to work
for themselves'and those dear to them, rather than for hun
156 
SOCIALISTIC EFFORTS.
dreds, if not thousands, whom they scarcely know tby sight.
I believe in Association, or Cooperation, or whatever name
may be given to the combination of many heads and hands
to achieve a beneficent result, which is beyond the means of
one or a few of them; for I perceive that vast economies, and
vastly increased efficiency, may thus be secured; I reject
Communism  as at war with one of the strongest and most
universal instincts, -that which impels each worker to produce and save for himself and his own.   Yet Religion often
makes practicable that which were else impossible, and Divine
Love triumphs where Ihuman Science is baffled. Thus I interpret the past successes and failures of Socialism.
Co6peration - the combination of some hundreds of producers to dispose of their labor or its fruits, or of consumers
in like manner to supply their common wants of food, &c.
nore economically and satisfactorily than by individual purchases from markets, stalls, or stores -is one-sided, fragmentary Association. Its advantages are signal, obvious, immediate; its chief peril is the rascality of the agent, treasurer,
or manager, whom it is obliged to trust.  As it involves no
decided, radical change of habits and usages, it is destined to
achieve an early success, and thus to pioneer further and
more beneficent reforms. It has already won signal triumphs
in sober, practical England; it is winning the intellectual
*ssent of earnest, meditative Germany.  I shall be sorely
disappointed if this Nineteenth Century does not witness its
very general adoption as a means of reducing the cost and
increasing the comfort of the poor man's living. It ought to
add twenty-five per cent. to the average income of the thriftier
half of the laboring class; while its advantages are free to all
with whom economy is an object. And even above its direct
advantages I prize the habits of.calculation, of foresight, of
saving which it is calculated to foster and promote among
those who accept its principle and enjoy its more material
blessings.
With a firm and deep religious basis, any Socialistic scheme
may succeed, though vicious in organization, and at war with
157 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LUFE.
Human Nature, as I deem  Shaker Communism, and the
antagonist or "Free Love" Community of Perfectionists at
Oneida, N.Y. Without a basis of religious sympathy and
religious aspiration, it will always be difficult, though, I judge,
not impossible. Even the followers of Comte, the swallowers
of his Pantheistic fog, will yet be banded or melted into communities, and will endeavor to realize the exaltation of Work
into Worship, with a degree of success to be measured by the
individual characters of the associates.  And every effort to
achieve through Association a less sordid, fettered, grovelling
life, will have a positive value for the future of mankind,
however speedy and utter its failure. I deem it impossible
that beings born in the huts and hovels of isolated society,
feebly, ineffectively delving and grubbing through life on the
few acres immediately surrounding each of them, shall there
attain the full stature of perfect manhood. They are dwarfed,
stunted, shrivelled, by their petty avocations and shabby surroundings,- by the seeming necessity which constrains them
tm bend their thoughts and energies to the achievement of
narrow, petty, paltry ends. Our dwellings, our fields, our
farms, our industries, all tend to belittle us; the edifice which
shall yet lodge commodiously and agreeably two thousand
persons, giving each the requisite privacy and independence,
though as yet unconstructed, is not a chimera; no more is
the prosecution of agricultural and other labor by large bands,
rendered picturesque by uniforms, and inspired by music.
That "many hands make light work" is an old discovery; it
shall yet be proved that the combined efforts of many workers
make Labor efficient and ennobling, as well as attractive. In
modern society, all things tend unconsciously toward grand,
comprehensive, pervading reforms. The steamboat, the railcar, the omnibus, are but blind gropings toward an end which,
unpremeditated, shall yet be attained; in the order of Nature,
nothing ultimately resists an economy; and the sceptical,
sneering world shall yet perceive and acknowledge that, in
many important relations, and not merely in one, "It is not
good for Man to be alone."
158 
9
XXI.
HARRY CLAY.
OHN  TYLERP  succeeded General Harrison in the Presi  dency.  He was called a Whig when elected Vice-President; I think he never called himself, nor wished others
to call him so, from the day on which he stepped into our
dead President's shoes. At all events, he contrived soon to
quarrel with the great body of those whose efforts and votes
had borne him into power. If he cried at Harrisburg over
Mr. Clay's defeat, Mr. Clay's friends had abundant reason to
cry ever afterward over Tyler's success there. He vetoed
the bill chartering a new United States Bank; and, having
himself sketched the plan of a substitute, and given it a name,
he, when Congress passed it, vetoed that. He having inherited
General Harrison's cabinet, this veto compelled its members to
resign; Mr. Webster, as Secretary of State, lingering for
months after all the rest had left; but he, too, had. to go at
last; and Mr. Tyler stood forth an imbittered, implacable
enemy of the party which had raised him from obscurity and
neglect to the pinnacle of power. Men always hate those
they have wronged; and Mr. Tyler fairly detested those he
had betrayed. Before he had been a year in power, he was
in full, though covert, alliance with the Democrats, and figuring for their next Presidential nomination. But such as he
are often used, never trusted.
Of course, the blighting of the fond hopes of the Whigs,
and the transfer to their adversaries of the power and patronage they had so arduously won, were disastrous. Their plunder-seekers went over to the adversary; their favorite meas
~ 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
ures were defeated, and their energies paralyzed: go State
after State deserted their standard. New York, which had
proved herself Whig at every State election held under Van
Buren's administration, went strongly Democratic at the very
first held under Tyl*'s, and remained so at the two following.
Two thirds, if not three fourths, of the States were carried
against us in the State elections of 1841,'42,'43.
On the 1st of May, 1844, a Whig National Convention
assembled in Baltimore. The venerable Ambrose Spencer, of
New York, then nearly eighty years old, presided. Henry
Clay was nominated for President without a dissenting voice,
and with rapturous enthusiasm. Theodore Frelinghuysen, of
New Jersey, was, after a spirited contest, presented for VicePresident. The delegates separated in undoubting confidence
that their choice would be ratified by the people.
The Democratic Convention met in the same city soon
afterward. A large majority of the delegates had been expressly instructed to nominate Martin Van Buren for President, and such was the undoubted preference of the Democratic masses. But many of the managing politicians had
other views. Some of them had rival personal aspirations;
and these thought two chances for the Presidency enough for
one person, even though he had but once succeeded. A good
many were tired of the New York ascendency, and eager for
a change'. The question of annexing Texas - of which more
hereafter- had been so manipulated as to render many
Southern politicians bitterly, actively hostile to Mr. Van
Buren, who had taken ground adverse to annexation under
the existing circumstances.  Hence, when  the Convention
met, a resolve was introduced and passed requiring the vote
of two thirds of the delegates to nominate a candidate. Van
Buren's pledged majority was thus rendered of no avail; and
soon, as the ballotings progressed, delegate after delegate
dropped away from him, until at length his remaining and
earnest supporters, in order to defeat Cass, Buchanan, and
Woodbury, went over in a body to James K. Polk, of Tennessee, and nominated him on the forty-fourth ballot. Silas
160 
HARRY CLAY.
Wright, of New York, was quite unanimously named for
Vice-President; but he declined, and George M. Dallas, of
Pennsylvania, was set up in his stead.
Mr. Polk was a man of moderate abilities, faultless private
character, and undeviating Jacksonism. #He had briefly but
positively avowed himself an advocate of the immediate An nexation of Texas. He had once been chosen Speaker of the
House of PRepresentatives, and once Governor of Tennessee;
being beaten, when he stood for reflection, by Colonel James
C. Jones, the Whig candidate.  The suggestion that such a
man, whose very name was unknown, up to the hour of his
nomination, by a majority of those whose votes he must obtain
if he were to be elected, should be pitted against the worldknown and admired iHarry Clay, was deemed the height df
absurdity. And not only did multitudes of Whigs deem the
nomination of Polk a virtual surrender at discretion, but many
Democrats privately cherished a similar conviction.   The
canvass, which opened at once with unusual spirit and determinatiop, soon undeceived them. Yet I think I do not err
in stating that thousands supported Mr. Polk who intended
only to maintain their standing in the Democratic party,
while they neither expected nor wished to defeat Mr. Clay's
election.
The early nomination of Silas Wright for Governor of our
State added immensely to Mr. Polk's strength.  He  was
widely known as a life-long friend and devoted follower of
Mr. Van Buren, and his refusal to be placed second on the
Polk ticket had increased his popularity with those who felt
as he did. It soon became evident that the party would be
substantially united on its National nominees, - united rather
by their common hostility to Mr. Clay than by their devotion
to his competitor. A few eminent New York Democrats
issued what was called a secret circular, advising their friends
to vote for Polk and Dallas, but to be careful to send members
to Congress who would oppose to the last the Annexation of
Texas. This recommendation was not followed. Those Democrats who disliked Annexation generally held their peace;
11
161 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
Silas Wright, in two or more campaign speeches, proclaimed
that Annexation should only take place under conditions that
gave Free Labor equal advantages with Slave from the acquisition. In the event, though the repugnance to Annexation
at the North had been strong and general, Mr. Polk lost very
few Democratic votes on account of it, though his support of
the measure was open and unequivocal. Mr. Clay, on the
other hand, though always clearly hostile to the Tyler or any
kindred project,- to any scheme of immediate, unconditional
Annexation without the prior consent of Mexico,- yet wrote
several letters on the subject that served to embarrass his
friends and encourage his foes.  He explained that he did
not object to Annexation because of Slavery, which he regarded as temporary, while the acquisition of Texas would be
permanent, and, under fit circumstances, desirable. These
letters were written to two different friends in Alabama, and
were probably not intended for publication, - at all events,
they should not have been published. They gave Mr. Clay's
opponents plausible grounds for saying that lie was dissatisfied
with his position before the public, and-anxious to change it;
they embarrassed his many friends who did object to Annexation on anti-Slavery grounds; and they did not help him
anywhere. Alabama and all the planting States went against
him, - all but Georgia and Louisiana heavily so. He would
have been stronger with the people if he had stood on his
letter written from Raleigh, N. C., before his nomination,
which was sufficiently full and explicit. A candidate for a
high elective office can hardly be too sparing of personal
manifestoes and explanations.
On the other great issue of the canvass- the Tariff- Mr.
Clay's position was unquestionable. He was for Protection
as a cardinal feature of a beneficent National policy, and he
was especially in favor of the Protective Tariff of 1842, then
just fairly in operation, and giving profitable employment to
much hitherto dormant labor, not only in existing mines,
furnaces, factories, &c., but in opening new mines, and in
erecting and fitting up many more furnaces and factories.
162
.4 
HARRY CLAY.
The country had unquestionably been poor, its industry paralyzed, its revenue deficient, when that Tariff was enacted;
the subsequent change had been signal and rapid, and the
Whigs believed and insisted that the Protection and the Prosperity stood to each other in the relation of cause and effect.
Our opponents, of course, denied the relation: they could not
plausibly deny the facts. And their metropolitan organ,The Globe, - which issued a prospectus for campaign subscribers, in which Protection and the Tariff were fiercely assailed, circulated in Pennsylvania a revised and expurgated
edition, from which the anti-Tariff fulmination was carefully
expunged.
Nor was this the worst. Mr. Polk had been for years in
Congress, and had always voted there against Protection, as
all Southern Democrats had voted since 1828. He was as
much a Free-Trader in his votes as Mr. Calhoun had been ever
since 1824. And yet he was induced by the exigencies of
the canvass in Pennsylvania to write (or sign) the following
letter:
COLUMBIA, TENN., June 19, 1844.
DEAR SIR: I have received recently several letters in reference
to my opinions on the subject of the Tariff, and, among others,
yours of the 10th ultimo.* My opinions on this subject have been
often given to the public. They are to be found in my public
acts, and in the public discussions in which I have participated. I
am in favor of a tariff for revenue, - such a one as will yield a
sufficient amount to the Treasury to defray the expenses of Government, economically administered. In adjusting the details of
a revenue tariff, I have heretofore sanctioned such moderate discriminating duties as would produce the amount of revenue needed,
and at the same time afford incidental protection to our home
industry. I am opposed to a tariff for protection merely, and not
for revenue. Acting upon these general principles, it is well kiown
that I gave my support to the policy of General Jackson's administration on this subject. I voted against the tariff act of 1828.
I voted for the act of 1832, which contained modifications of some
of the objectionable provisions of the act of 1828.  As a member
* Never given to the public.- H. G.
163 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
of the Committee of Ways and Means of the House of Representsa
tives, I gave my assent to the bill reported by that committee in
December, 1832, making further modifications of the act of 1828,
and making also discriminations in the imposition of the duties
which it proposed. That bill did not pass, but was superseded by
the bill commonly called the Compromise Bill, for which I voted.
In my judgment, it is the duty of the government to extend, as
far as it may be'practicable to do so, by its revenue laws and all
other means within its power, fair and just protection to all the
great interests of the whole Union, embracing Agriculture, Manufactures, and the Mechanic Arts, Commerce, and Navigation. I
heartily approve the resolutions upon this subject passed by the
Democratic National Convention, lately assembled at Baltimore.
I am, with great respect, dear sir,
Your ob't serv't,
JOHN K. KANE, Esq., Philadelphia
It was impossible not to see that this was an elaborate
attempt to darken counsel so as to break the force of the
Tariff issue, which was telling strongly against him wherever
Protection was the favorite policy, and especially in intensely,
and all but unanimously, Protective Pennsylvania. The Whigs
had felt confident of carrying Pennsylvania on the Tariff
issue in her State (October) election, and thereupon carrying,
not her only, but New York and other doubtful States, at the
Presidential election in November; but this letter enabled
those who saw fit to insist that Polk was as much a Tariff
man as Clay, and thereupon to override us by appeals to
Pennsylvania's Democratic and Jackson prepossessions. A
remarkably clever and subtle speech by Silas Wright, at
Watertown, N.Y., aided this effort. Mr. Wright had voted
in Congress for both the Tariffs of 1828 and 1842, -the two
most Protective of any ever yet passed. Yet he assailed the
latter, not in principle, but in detail; arguing that it favored
the woollen manufacturer at the expense of the woolgrower,
by admitting cheap, coarse foreign wool at a low rate of duty.
All our efforts to make a distinct issue, and obtain a popular
decision as between Protection and Free Trade respectively,
164
JAMEs K. POLEK. 
HARRY CLAY. 
were thus baffled; and, while every Free-Trader went against
us,- Gulian C. Verplanck leaving us expressly on that ground,
- we lost the votes of thousands of Protectionists, who were
unfairly induced to believe Polk as much a Protectionist as
Clay!  A " Native American" movement, which had originated in the Fall of 1843; among the native Democrats of this
city, who revolted against what they considered a monopoly
of office by our foreign-born population, had extended to, and
almost absorbed, the Whig voters of this and other cities,
New York and Philadelphia being both swept by it in the
Spring of'44. The first impression that Mr. Clay would gain
more than he would lose by-this side-wind was not justified
by the result; as the Presidential contest grew hotter and
hotter, the Democratic Natives returned to their old standard,
while immigrants by tens of thousands'were naturalized expressly to vote against Nativism, and all their votes told
against us, as did those of thousands more who managed to
vote without awaiting naturalization. Hence we failed to
elect oar Governor in Pennsylvania by 4,397 majority,-  the
vote standing: Shunk, 160,759; Markle, 156,352; and of
course failed to carry the State at the following Presidential
election, when Polk had 167,535 to 161,203 for Clay; and,
as Pennsylvania then voted on the Friday before our election,
which commenced on the following Monday and continued
till Wednesday night,- the weight of that State's vote against
us fell heavily on New York, and, by the help of a heavy
illegal vote in this city, barely carried her against us; the
votes cast being: Polk, 237,588; Clay, 232,482; and Birney
(Abolition), 15,812. I think we should have had at least half
of that Birney vote for Clay, and made him President (for he
only needed the vote of New York), it spite of all other drawbacks, but for those fatal Alabama letters. And the result in
Michigan was likewise decided by the Birney vote; while
Louisiana was lost by the scandalous "Plaquemine" frauds,
-a parish which had given 179 Democratic to 93 Whig
votes in'42 giving 1,007 Democratic to but 37 Whig in'44:
the voters coming down from New Orleans on a steamboat,
165 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and pouring in their illegal ballots with scarcely a fig-leaf of
decency.  Polk carried that State by 699 majority; and he
had 970 in Plaquemines, where he was entitled to 200 at
most.  As it was, we carried for Mr. Clay the States of Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, Ohio, North Carolina, Kentucky,
and Tennessee, -11 in all, casting 105 electoral votes; while
Mr. Polk's electors were chosen in fifteen States, casting 170
votes. And, so close was the contest throughout, that Mr.
Clay had in the whole Union 1,288,533 popular votes to
1,327,325 for Mr. Polk: Polk's majority, 38,792.  Mr. Birney
had in all 62,263 votes: so that Mr. Polk was preferred by a
plurality, not a majority, of the entire people. But that did
not affect the fact nor the validity of his election. 
I have admired and trusted many statesmen: I profoundly
loved Henry Clay. Though a slaveholder, he was a champion
of Gradual Emancipation when Kentucky formed her first
State Constitution in his early manhood; and he was openly
tht same when she came to revise it, half a century later.
He was a conservative in the true sense of that much-abused
term: satisfied to hold by the present until he could see
clearly how to exchange it for the better; but his was no
obstinate, bigoted conservatism, but such as became an intelligent and patriotic American. From his first entrance into
Congress, he had been a zealous and effective champion of
Internal Improvements, the Protection of Home Industry, a
sound and uniform National Currency, - those leading features of a comprehensive, beneficent National policy which
commanded the fullest assent of my judgment and the best
exertions of my voice and pen. I loved him for his generous
nature, his gallant beating, his thrilling eloquence, and his
life-long devotion to what I deemed our country's unity, prosperity, and just renown. Hence, from the day of his nomination in May to that of his defeat in November, I gave every
hour, every effort, every thought, to his election. My wife
and then surviving child (our third) spent the Summer at a
farm-house in a rural township of Massachusetts, while I
166 
HARRY CLAY.
gave heart and soul to the canvass. I travelled and spoke
much; I wrote, I think, an average of three columns of The
Tribune each secular day; and I gave the residue of the
hours I could save from sleep to watching the canvass, and
doing whatever I could to render our side of it more effective.
Very often, I crept to my lodging near the office at 2 to 3
A.M., with my head so heated by fourteen to sixteen hours of
incessant reading and writing, that I could only win sleep by
means of copious affusions from a shower-bath; and these,
while they probably saved me from a dangerous fever, brought
out such myriads of boils, that- though I did not heed them
till after the battle was fought out and lost - I was covered
by'them for the six months ensuing, often fifty or sixty at
once, so that I could contrive no position in which to rest,
but passed night after night in an easy-chair. And these
unwelcome visitors returned to plague me, though less severely, throughout the following Winter. I have suffered from
their kindred since, but never as I did from their young luxuriance in that Winter of'44 - 45.
Looking back through almost a quarter of a century on
that Clay canvass of 1844, I say deliberately that it should
not have been lost, - that it need not have been. True, there
was much good work done in it, but not half so much as there
should have been. I, for example, was in the very prime of
life,- thirty-three years old,- and knew how to write for a
newspaper; and I printed in that canvass one of the most
effective daily political journals ever yet issued. It was sold
for two cents; and it had 15,000 daily subscribers when the
canvass closed. It should have had 100,000 from the first
day onward; and my Clay Tribune- a campaign weekly,
issued six months for fifty cents- should have had not less
than a quarter of a million. And those two issues, wisely
and carefully distributed, could not have failed to turn the
long-doubtful scale in favor of Mr. Clay's election. Of course,
I mean that other effective, devoted journals should also have
been systematically disseminated, until every voter who could
and would read a Whig journal had been supplied with one,
even though he had paid nothing for it. A quarter of. a million
jo
167 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
Campaign Tribunes would have cost at most $125,000; and
there were single houses largely engaged in mining or manufacturing who were damaged more than that amount by Mr.
Clay's defeat, and the consequent repeal of the Tariff of'42.
There should have been $1,000,000 raised by open subscription during the week in which Mr. Clay was nominated, and
every dime of it judiciously, providently expended in furnishing information touching the canvass to the voters of New
York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. To put a good, efficient journal into the hands of every voter who will read it
is the true mode of prosecuting a political canvass; meetings
and speeches are well enough, but this is indispensable. Mr.
Clay might have been elected, if his prominent, earnest supporters had made the requisite exertions and sacrifices; and I
cannot but bitterly feel that great and lasting public calamities would thereby have been averted.
Mr. Clay, born in poverty and obscurity, had not even a
common-school education, and had only a few months' clerkship in a store, with a somewhat longer training in a lawyer's
office, as preparation for his great career.  Tall in person,
though plain in features, graceful in manner, and at once
dignified and affable in bearing, I think his fervid patriotism
and thrilling eloquence combined with decided natural abilities and a wide and varied experience  to render  him  the
American more fitted to win and enjoy popularity than any
other who has lived. That popularity he steadily achieved
and extended through the earlier half of his long public life;
but he was now confronted by a political combination wellnigh invincible, based on the potent personal strength of
General Jackson; and this overcame him. Five times presented as a candidate for President, he was always beaten, -
twice in conventions of his political associates, thrice in the
choice of electors by the people. The careless reader of our
history in future centuries will scarcely realize the force of
his personal magnetism, nor conceive how millions of hearts
glowed with sanguine hopes of his election to the Presidency,
and bitterly lamented his and their discomfiture.
168 
XXII.
MARGARET FULLER.
TEE year 1840- rendered notable by the Harrison can     vass —ewas signalized by several less noisy reactions
and uprisings against prescription and routine. One of these
made itself manifest in the appearance at Boston of The Dial,
- the quarterly utterance of a small fraternity of scholars
and thinkers, who had so far outgrown the recognized standards of orthodox opinion in theology and philosophy as to be
grouped, in the vague, awkward terminology of this stammering century, as Transcendentalists. Inexcusably bad as the
term is, it so clearly indicates an aspiration, a tendency, as
contradistinguished from a realization, an achievement, that
it may be allowed to stand. Those to whom it was applied
had alike transcended the preexisting limitations of decorous
and allowable thinking; but they were alike in little else.
The chosen editor of this magazine was SARAH MARGARET
FULLER, while Ralph Waldo Emerson and George Ripley
were announced as her associates. After a time, Mr. Emerson became the editor, with his predecessor as his chief assistant, but there was in reality little change; and, while
others contributed to its pages, The Dial, throughout the four
or five years of its precarious existence, was chiefly regarded
and valued as an expression and exponent of the ideas and
convictions of these two rarest, if not ripest, fruits of New
England's culture and reflection in the middle of the Nineteenth Century. The original editor was to have been paid
a salary of two hundred dollars per annum, had the sale of
the work justified so liberal a stipend; but I believe it never 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
did. What was purposed by its projectors is thus stated in
one of her private letters:  "A perfectly free organ is to be offered for the expression of
individual thought and character. There are no party measures
to be carried, no particular standard to be set up. A fair, calm
tone, a recognition of universal principles, will, I hope, pervade
the essays in every form. I trust there will be a spirit neither of
dogmatism nor of compromise; and that this journal will aim, not
at leading public opinion, but at stimulating each man to judge
for himself, and to think more deeply and more nobly, by letting
him see how some minds are kept alive by a wise self-trust.....
We cannot show high culture, and I doubt about vigorous thought.
But we shall manifest free action as far as it goes, and a high aim.
It were much if a periodical could be kept open, not to accomplish
any outward object, but merely to afford an avenue for what of
liberal and calm thought might be originated among us, by the
wants of individual minds."
I presume the circulation of The Dial never reached two
thpusand copies, and that it hardly averaged one thousand.
But its influence and results are nowise measured by the
number of its patrons, nor even of its readers. To the "fit
audience, though few," who had long awaited and needed its
advent, without clearly comprehending their need, it was like
manna in the wilderness; and scores of them found in its
pages incitement and guidance to a noble and beneficent, even
though undistinguished, career.
S. MARGARET FULLER, the eldest child of Timothy and
Margaret Crane Fuller, was born at Cambridgeport, Mass., on
the 23d of May, 1810. Her father was a lawyer of humble origin, who had risen, by force of resolution and industry,
to a respectable position at the Boston bar, though he was a
Republican, and all the wealth and business of that city were
intensely Federal; and he ultimately represented in Congress,
for several terms, the Middlesex district adjacent. This did
not increase his popularity nor his professional gains in Boston; so that, when he died of cholera (Oct. 2, 1835), after
a life of labor and frugality, he left but a narrow competence
170 
MARGARET FULLER.
to his widow and large family of mainly young, dependent
children.
But that widow was a woman of signal excellence of soul
and life. He was well established in practice, and must have
been ten or fifteen years at the bar when he met her, a
young girl of humble family and little education, but of rare
beauty, physical and mental; and, falling in love with her at
sight, sought her acquaintance, wooed, won, and married her.
And, though she never found time for extensive study, her
natural refinement was such that the deficiencies of her education were seldom or never perceptible.
Her eldest daughter was too early stimulated to protracted,
excessive mental labor by her fond, exacting, ambitious father, justly proud of her great natural powers, and ignorant
of the peril of overtaxing them. I have heard that, when but
eight years old, she had her "stint" of so many Latin verses
to compose per day, ready to recite to him on his return to
their suburban home from his day's work in the city. This
may be.idle gossip; I only know that, when I first made her
acquaintance, she was, mentally, the best instructed woman
in America; while she was, physically, one of the least enviable, - a prey to spinal affliction, nervous disorder, and protracted, fearfully torturing headaches. Those who knew her
in early youth have assured me that she was then the picture
of rude health, - red-cheeked, robust, vigorous, and comely,
if not absolutely beautiful. Too much of this was sacrificed
to excessive study.  Her near friend and literary associate,
Ralph Waldo Emerson, gives this account of his first impressions of her in her early prime of womanhood, ten years before I met her:
"I still remember the first half-hour of Margaret's conversation.
She was then twenty-six years old. She had a face and frame that
would indicate fulness and tenacity of life.  She was rather under
the middle height; her complexion was fair, with strong, fair hair.
She was then, as always, carefully and becomingly dressed, and of
lady-like self-possession.   For the rest, her appearance had nothing prepossessing.  Her extreme plainness, a trick of incessantly
171 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
opening and shutting her eyelids, the nasal tones of her voice, all
repelled; and I said to myself,' We shall never get far.' It is to
be said that Margaret made a disagreeable first impression on
most persons, including those who became afterward her best
friends, to such an extreme that they did not wish to be in the
same room with her. This was partly the effect of her manners,
which expressed an overweening sense of power, and slight esteem
of others; and partly the prejudice of her fame. She had a dangerous reputation for satire, in additiQn to her great scholarship.
The men thought she carried too many guns, and the women did
not like one who despised them. I believe I fancied her too much
interested in personal history; and her talk was a comedy, in
which dramatic justice was done to everybody's foibles.  I remember that she made me laugh more than I liked; for I was, at that
time, an eager scholar of ethics, and had tasted the sweets of solitude and stoicism, and I found something profane in the hours of
amusing gossip into which she drew me; and, when I returned to
my library, had much to think of the crackling of thorns under a
pot."
* Her beloved and loving cousin, Rev. William 11. Channing, in his account of a visit he paid her, somewhat later, when she lived at Jamaica Plain, near Boston, in 1840,
says:
"As, leaning on one arm, she poured out her stream of thought,
turning now and then her full eyes upon me to see whether I
caught her meaning, there was leisure to study her thoroughly.
Her temperament was predominantly what the physiologist would
call nervous-sanguine; and the gray eye, rich brown hair, and
light complexion, with the muscular and well-developed frame,
bespoke delicacy balanced by vigor.   Here was a sensitive yet
powerful being, fit at once for rapture or sustained effort, intensely
active, prompt for adventure, firm for trial. She certainly had no
beauty; yet the high-arched dome of her head, the changeful
expressiveness of every feature, and her whole air of mingled dignity and impulse, gave her a commanding charm. Especially
characteristic were two physical traits. The first was a contraction
of the eyelids almost to a point,- a trick caught from near-sightedness,- and then a sudden dilation, till. the iris seemed to
172 
MARGARET FULLER.
emit flashes, -an  effect, no  doubt, dependent  on her highly
magnetized condition. The second was a singular pliancy of the
vertebrae and muscles of the neck, enabling her, by a mere movement, to denote each varying emotion; in moments of tenderness,
or pensive feeling, its curves were swan-like in grace; but, when
she was scornful or indignant, it contracted, and made swift turns,
like that of a bird of prey.  Finally, in the animation, yet a)bandon,
of Margaret's attitude and look, were rarely blended the fiery
course of northern, and the soft languor of southern races."
Margaret Fuller.
Such a woman could not live idly, especially in diligent,
practical New England, even had she been shielded by fortune from the most obvious necessity for habitual industry.
After the completion of her school-day education, and before
undertaking the editorship of The Dial, she had taught classes
of girls in her home, given two years to the conduct of a seminary in Providence, R. I. (for which she was  never paid),
had translated (in 1839) Eckermann's "Conversations with
Goethle," and in the autumn of this year she planned and announced her most unique enterprise, - a series of conversa
173 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
tions (in Boston), for women only, wherein she was to take a
leading part; but every one who attended was required to
contribute according to her ability, by written essay or spoken
word, as should be suggested or found possible.  The general
object of these conferences, as declared in her programme, was
to supply answers to these questions: "What were we born
to do?" and " low shall we do it?" or (as I think she elsewhere said),." to vindicate the right of Woman to think," by
showing that she can think nobly and to good purpose; but
Life, Literature, Mythology, Art, Culture, Religion, were liberally drawn upon for material and stimulus in the progress
of this most arduous undertaking.
But Margaret had higher qualifications for such a task than
any other person that America had yet produced, being "the
best talker since De Stael," as I once heard her characterized.
And, as the ablest and most cultivated women in and around
Boston were naturally attracted to her conversations, and incited to take part in them, I doubt not that they were more
*interesting and profitable than any intellectual exercises which
had preceded them; and, while the attendance was necessarily
limited, - averaging less than fifty persons,- there are still
many living who gratefully recall them as the starting-point
and incitement of a new and nobler existence. Yet an attempt by Margaret to extend their advantages to men proved
a failure; and, even when repeated under the guidance of so
eminent a conversationist as Mr. A. Bronson Alcott, I judge
that no decided success was achieved.
In 1839, she had visited, with a party of friends, what was
then "the Great West";, spending weeks in traversing the
prairies of Illinois, as yet undeformed by fences and unvexed
by the plough. Her observations and impressions, embodied
in a volume entitled " Summer on the Lakes," evinced an unAmerican ripeness of culture, and a sympathetic enjoyment
of Nature in her untamed luxuriance. But the alternating
meadow and forest of that bounteous region in its primitive
state evinced little of the rugged wildness of mountain or
desert; and she remarked that it seemed  a reproduction,
174 
MARGARET FULLER.
though on a gigantic scale, and without enclosures, of the
great baronial domains and parks of Europe; so that the
traveller was constantly looking for the castles and other evidences of human occupation and enjoyment which, it seemed,
must be just at hand. Half a century hence, Illinoians will
read her book, and wonder if the region it vividly depicts and
describes can indeed be identical with that which surrounds
them.
But the work by which she will be longest and widest
known first appeared in The Dial (1843) as "The Great Lawsuit," and, when afterward expanded into a separate volume,
was entitled, "Woman in the Nineteenth Century." If not
the clearest and most logical, it was the loftiest and most
commanding assertion yet made of the right of Woman to be
regarded and treated as an independent, intelligent, rational
being, entitled to an equal voice in framing and modifying
the laws she is required to obey, and in controlling and disposing of the property she has inherited or aided to acquire.
Yet questions of property, personal rights, guardianship of
children, &c., are but incidental, not essential.  She says:  "It is the fault of MARRIAGE, and of the present relations between the sexes, that the woman belongs to the man, instead of
forming a whole with him..... Woman,  self-centred, would
never be absorbed by any relation; it would only be an experience
to her, as to Man. It is a vulgar error, that love - a love - is to
Woman her whole existence: she also is born for Truth and Love
in their universal energy. Would she but assume her inheritance,
Mary would not be the only virgin mother."
If you say this is vague, mystical, unmeaning, I shall not
contradict you; I am not arguing that Woman's undoubted
wrongs are to be redressed by the concession of what Margaret, or any of her disciples, has claimed as Woman's inherent rights; I only feel that hers is the ablest, bravest,
broadest, assertion yet made of what are termed Woman's
Rights; and I suspect that the statement might lose in force
by gaining in clearness.  And, at all events, I am confident
that there lives no man or woman who would not profit (if
175 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
he or she has not already profited) by a thoughtful perusal of
"Woman in the Nineteenth Century."
My wife, having spent much time in and near Boston, had
there made Margaret's acquaintance, attended her conversations, accepted her leading ideas; and, desiring to enjoy her
society more intimately and continuously, Mrs. G. planned
and partly negotiated an arrangement whereby her monitor
and friend became an inmate of our family and a writer for
The Tribune.
Up to the close of the Presidential canvass in 1844, I had
lived thirteen years in New York, and never half a mile
from the City Hall, - usually within sixty rods of it. The
newspaper business requiring close attention, and being wholly
prosecuted "down town," it seemed, when I once ventured to
live so far up as Broome Street, that I had strayed to an
inconvenient distance from my work; but, when the great
struggle was over, and I the worst beaten man on the continent,- worn out by incessant anxiety and effort, covered with
boils, and thoroughly used up,- I took a long stride landward,
removing to a spacious old wooden house, built as a country
or summer residence by Isaac Lawrence, formerly President
of the United States Branch Bank, but which, since his death,
had been neglected, and suffered to decay. It was located on
eight acres of ground, including a wooded ravine, or dell, on
the'East River, at Turtle Bay, nearly opposite the southernmost point of Blackwell's Island, amid shade and fruit trees,
abundant shrubbery, ample garden, &c.; and, though now for
years perforated by streets, and in good part covered by buildings, was then so secluded as to be only reached by a narrow,
devious, private lane, exceedingly dark at night for one accustomed to the glare of gas-lamps; the nearest highway being
the old" Boston Road" at Forty-ninth Street; while an hourly
stage on the Third Avenue, just beyond, afforded our readiest
means of transit to and from the city proper. Accustomed to
the rumble and roar of carriages, the stillness here at night
seemed at first so sepulchral, unearthly, that I found difficulty
i76 
MARGARET FULLER.
in sleeping. Of the place itself, Margaret- who became one
of our household soon after we took possession -wrote thus
to a friend:
"This place is, to me, entirely charming; it is so completely in
the country, and all around is so bold and free. It is two miles
or more from the thickly settled parts of New York, but omnibuses
and cars give me constant access to the city; and, while I can
readily see what and whom I will, I can command time and retirement. Stopping on the Harlem Road, you enter a lane nearly a
quarter of a mile long, and, going by a small brook and pond that
locks in the place, and ascending a slightly rising ground, get sight
of the house, which, old-fashioned and of mellow tint, fronts on a
flower-garden filled with shrubs, large vines, and trim box borders.
On both sides of the house are beautiful trees, standing fair, fullgrown, and clear. Passing through a wide hall, you come out upon
a piazza stretching the whole length of the house, where one can
walk in all weathers; and thence, by a step or two, on a lawn,
with picturesque masses of rocks, shrubs, and trees, overlooking
the East River. Gravel-paths lead, by several turns, down the
steep bdnk to the water's edge, where, round the rocky point, a
small bay curves, in which boats are lying; and, owing to the currents and the set of the tide, the sails glide sidelong, seeming to
greet the house as they sweep by. The beauty here, seen by
moonlight, is truly transporting.  I enjoy it greatly, and the genus
loci receives me as to a home."
We have seen that the first impressions made by Margaret,
even on those who soon learned to admire her most, were not
favorable; and it was decidedly so in my case. A sufferer
myself, and at times scarcely able to ride to and from the
office, I yet did a day's work each day, regardless of nerves or
moods; but she had no such capacity for incessant labor. If
quantity only were considered, I could easily write ten columns
to her one: indeed, she would only write at all when in the
vein; and her headaches and other infirmities often precluded
all labor for days. Meantime, perhaps, the interest of the
theme had evaporated, or the book to be reviewed had the
12
177 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
bloom brushed from its cheek by some rival journal. Attendance and care were very needful to her; she would evidently
have been happier amid other and more abundant furniture
than graced our dwelling; and, while nothing was said, I felt
that a richer and more generous diet than ours would have
been more accordant with her tastes and wishes. Then I had
a notion that strong-minded women should be above the
weakness of fearing to go anywhere, at any time, alone,- that
the sex would have to emancipate itself from thraldom to
etiquette and the need of a masculine arm in crossing a street
or a room, before it could expect to fight its way to the bar,
the bench, the jury-box, and the polls. Nor was I wholly
exempt from the vulgar prejudice against female claimants of
functions hitherto devolved only on men, as mistaking the
source of their dissatisfaction.. Her cousin, Channing, narrating a day's conversation with her in 1840, delicately says: -
"But the tragedy of Margaret's history Was deeper yet. Behind
the poet was the woman,- the fond and relying, the heroic and
disinterested woman.   The very glow of her poetic enthusiasm was
but an outflushi of trustful affection; the very restlessness of her
intellect was the confession that her heart had found no home.
A'book-worm,''a dilettante,' a' pedant,' I had heard her sneeringly
called; but now it was evident that her seeming insensibility was
virgin pride, and her absorption in study the natural vent of emotions which had met no object worthy of life-long attachment.
At once, many of her peculiarities became intelligible. Fitfulness,
unlooked-for changes of mood, misconceptions of words and actions,
substitution of fancy for fact,- which had annoyed me during the
previous season, as inconsistent in a person of such capacious judgment and sustained self-government, - were now referred to the
morbid influence of affections pent up to prey upon themselves."
If I had attempted to say this, I should have somehow
blundered out that, noble and great as she was, a good husband and two or three bouncing babies would have emancipated her from a deal of cant and nonsense.
Yet I very soon noted, even before I was prepared to ratify
their judgment, that the women who visited us to make or
178 
MARGARET FULLER.
improve her acquaintance seemed instinctively to recognize
and defer to her as their superior in thought and culture.
SQme who were her seniors, and whose writings had achieved
a far wider and more profitable popularity than hers, were
eager to sit at her feet, and to listen to her casual utterances
as to those of an oracle. Yet there was no assumption of
precedence, no exaction of deference, on her part; for, though
somewhat stately and reserved in the presence of strangers,
no one "thawed out" more completely, or was more  unstarched and cordial in manner, when surrounded by her
friends. Her magnetic sway over these was marvellous, unaccountable: women who had known her but a day revealed
to her the mdst jealously guarded secrets of their lives, seeking her sympathy and counsel thereon, and were themselves
annoyed at having done so when the magnetism of her presence was withdrawn. I judge that she was the repository of
more confidences than any contemporary; and I am sure no
one had ever reason to regret the imprudent precipitancy of
their trust. Nor were these revelations made by those only
of her own plane of life, but chambermaids and seamstresses
unburdened their souls to her, seeking and receiving her
counsel; while children found her a delightful playmate and
a capital friend.  My son Arthur (otherwise "Pickie"), who
was but eight months old when she came to us, learned to
walk and to talk in her society, and to love and admire her
as few but nearest relatives are ever loved and admired by a
child.  For, as the elephant's trunk serves either to rend a
limb from the oak or pick up a pin, so her wonderful range
of capacities, of experiences, of sympathies, seemed adapted
to every condition and phase of humanity. She had marvelous powers of personation and mimicry, and, had she condescended to appear before the foot-lights, would soon have been
recognized as the first actress of the Nineteenth Century. For
every effort to limit vice, ignorance, and misery she had a
ready, eager ear, and a willing hand; so that her charitieslarge in proportion to her slender means - were signally enhanced by the fitness and fulness of her wise and generous
179 
RECOLLECTIONVS OF A BUSY LIFE.
counsel, the readiness and emphasis with which she, publicly
and privately, commended to those richer than herself any
object deserving their alms. She had once attended, with
other noble women, a gathering of outcasts of their sex; and,
being asked how they appeared to her, replied, "As women
like myself, save that they are victims of wrong and misfortune."  No project of moral or social reform ever failed to
command her generous, cheering benediction, even when she
could not share the sanguine hopes of its authors: she trusted
that these might somehow benefit the objects of their selfsacrifice, and felt confident that they must, at all events, be
blest in their own moral natures. I doubt that our various
benevolent and reformatory associations had ever before, or
have ever since, received such wise, discriminating commendation to the favor of the rich, as they did from her pen during
her connection with The Tribune.
In closing her "Woman in the Nineteenth Century," not
long before she came to New York, she had said:
' I stand in the sunny noon of life. Objects no longer glitter
in the dews of morning, neither are they yet softened by the
shadows of evening. Every spot is seen, every chasm revealed.
Climbing the dusty hill, some few effigies, that once stood for
symbols of human destiny, have been broken; those I still have
with me show defects in this broad light. Yet enough is left, even
by experience, to point distinctly to the glories of that destiny,
faint, but not to be mistaken, streaks of the future day. I can say
with the bard,
' Though many have suffered shipwreck, still beat noble hearts."'
Though ten years had not passed since her first visit to Emerson, at Concord, so graphically narrated by him in a reminiscence wherefrom I have already quoted, care and suffering had
meantime detracted much from the lightness of her step, the
buoyancy of her spirits. If, in any of her varying moods, she
was so gay-hearted and mirth-provoking as he there describes
her, I never happened to be a witness; but then I was never
so intimate and admired a friend as he became at an early
180 
MARGARET FULLER.
day, and remained to the last. Satirical she could still be,
on great provocation; but she rarely, and, I judge, reluctantly,
gave evidence of her eminent power to rebuke assumption or
meanness by caricaturing or intensifying their unconscious
exhibition. She could be joyous, and even merry; but her
usual manner, while with us, was one of grave thoughtfulness,
absorption in noble deeds, and in paramount aspirations and
efforts to leave some narrow corner of the world somewhat
better than she had found it.
I may have already spoken of her quick, earnest sympathy
with humanity under all diversities of temporal condition,
her easy penetration of the disguise which sometimes seeks
to conceal the true king in the beggar's rags, and her profound
appreciation of nobleness of soul, wherever and however manifested. Here is an instance, from her newspaper article on
"Woman in Poverty":  "The old woman was recommended as a laundress by my friend,
who had long prized her. I was immediately struck with the dignity and propriety of her manner. In the depth of Winter, she
brought herself the heavy baskets through the slippery streets;
and, when I asked her why she did not employ some younger person to do what was so entirely disproportioned to her strength,
simply said, she'lived alone, and could not afford to hire an
errand-boy.''It was hard for her?''No; she was fortunate in
being able to get work, at her age, when others could do it better.
Her friends were very good to procure it for her.''Had she a
comfortable home?''Tolerably so; she should not need one
long.'' Was that a thought of joy to her'' Yes; for she hoped
to see again the husband and children from whom she had long
been separated.'
"Thus much in answer to the questions; but, at other times, the
little she said was on general topics. It was not from her that I
learned how the great idea of Duty had held her upright through a
life of incessant toil, sorrow, bereavement; and that not only had
she remained upright, but that her character had been constantly
progressive. Her latest act had been to take home a poor sick girl
who had no home of her own, and could not bear the idea of dying
in an hospital, and maintain and nurse her through the last weeks
181
I 
RECOLLECTIONS. OF A BUSY LIFE.
of her life.' Her eyesight was failing, and she should not be able
to work much longer; but, then, God would provide. Somebody
ought to see to the poor motherless girl.'
"It was not merely the greatness of the act, for one in such circumstances, but the quiet, matter-of-course way in which it was
done, that showed the habitual tone of the mind, and made us feel
that life could hardly do more' for a human being than to make
him or her the somebody that is daily so deeply needed, to represent
the right, to do the plain right thing.
"' God will provide.'- Yes, it is the poor who feel themselves
near to the God of Love.  Though He slay them, still do they
trust Him.
"' I hope,' said I, to a poor apple-woman, who had been drawn on
to disclose a tale of distress that, almost in the mere hearing, made
me weary of life,' I hope I may yet see you in a happier condition.'
"' With God's help!' she replied, with a smile that a Raphael
would have delighted to transfer to his canvas; a Mozart, to strains
of angelic sweetness.   All her life she had seemed an outcast
child; still, she leaned upon a Father's love."
In the summer of 1846,- modifying, but not terminating,
her conniection with The Tribune, - Margaret left New York
for Boston, and, after a parting visit to her relatives and early
friends, took passage thence (August 1) for Europe. As I
last saw her on the steamboat that bore her hence, I might,
perhaps, here bid her adieu.  But my recollections of her do
not cease with her departure; and I feel that my many young
readers, whose previous acquaintance with her was  but a
vag(ue tradition, cannot choose that she be thus abruptly dismissed from these reminiscences, but will prefer to hear more
of the most remarkable, and in some respects the greatest,
woman whom America has yet known.  I therefore devote
some pag,es to her subsequent career; only regretting that time
and space do not serve to render that career ampler justice.
Leaving in the company of admiring, devoted friends, who
welcomed her to the intimacy of their family circle, and writ
0
182 
MARGARET FULLERP
ing to The Tribune whenever she (too seldom) found topics
of interest that did not trench upon her deference to the sanctities of social intercourse, she first traversed Great Britain;
meeting and conversing with Wordsworth, Joanna Baillie, De
Quincey, Carlyle, Mazzini, Dr. Chalmers, the Howitts, and
many other celebrities, -  most of whom have since passed
away, - thence crossing to France, where she met George
Sand, B4ranger, La Mennais, saw Rachel act, and listened to
a  lecture by Arago.  The next Spring (1847), she, with her
party, sped to Italy; coasting to Naples, and thence returning
leisurely to RPome, where Pius IX. had just been made Pope,
and had signalized his accession by words of sympathy and
cheer for the aspirations to freedom of down-trodden millions,
which he has long since recanted, but they refuse to forget
Passing thence by Florence, Bologna, Ravenna, to Venice,
she there parted with the friends who had thus far been her
companions in travel,- they crossing the Alps on their homeward way; while she -fully identified with the new-born
hopes of Italy- had decided to remain. After hastily visiting Vicenza, Verona, Mantua, Brescia, Milan, the lakes Garda,
Maggiore, and Como, and spending a few days in southern
Switzerland, she returned, via Milan and Florence, to Rome,
august "city of.the soul," which she had chosen for her future
home, and whence she wrote (December 20) to her friend
Emerson: 
"I find how true was the hope that always drew me toward
Europe.  It was no false instinct that said I might here find an
atmosphere to develop me in ways that I need. Had I only come
ten years earlier!  Now, my life must be a failure, so much
strength has been wasted on abstractions, which only came because
I grew not on the right soil."
She was privately married, not long after her return to
Rome, to Giovanni Angelo Ossoli, of a noble but impoverishedl
Roman family. He had caught the infection of liberal principles from the air, or from her,- his three brothers being as
he had been, in the Papal service, and so remaining after the
Pope had disappointed the hopes excited by his first words and
183
4k
6 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
acts under the tiara. In the troublous times then imminent,
it was deemed expedient to keep their marriage a close secret,
as their only hope of securing their share of the patrimony of
Ossoli's recently deceased father; and she spent the ensuing
Summer at the little mountain village of Rieti, where her son
Angelo was born.  Returning before Winter to RPome, she
became at once a trusted counsellor of Mazzini during the
brief but glorious era of the Republic; and, when the city
was invested and besieged by a French army, she was appointed director of a hospital, and therein found a sphere of
sad, but earnest and beneficent activity. While thus absorbed in the noblest efforts in behalf of Italy, of Freedom,
and  Humanity, she snatched time (May 6) to send me a
letter descriptive of the situation, opening, truinpet-toned, as
follows:
0
"I write you from barricaded Rome. The mother of nations is
now at bay against them all.
"Rome was suffering before.
".The misfortunes of other regions of Italy, the defeat at Novarra,
-preconcerted, in hope to strike the last blow at Italian independence, -the surrender and painful condition of Genoa; the
money difficulties, - insuperable, unless the government could
secure confidence abroad as well as at home, -prevented her
people from finding that foothold for which they were ready. The
vacillations of France agitated them; still, they could not seriously
believe she would ever act the part she has. We must say France,
because, though many honorable men have washed their hands of
all share in the perfidy, the Assembly voted funds to sustain the
expedition to Civita Vecchia, and the nation, the army, have remained quiescent."
This letter closed as follows: -
"The Americans here are not in a pleasant situation.  Mr. Cass,
the Charge6 of the United States, stays here without recolgnizing
the government. Of course, he holds no position at the present
moment that can enable him to act for us. Besides, it gives us
pain that our country, whose policy it justly is to avoid physical
interference with the affairs of Europe, should not use a moral
.
184 
MARGARET FULLER.
influence. Rome has - as we did - thrown off a government no
longer tolerable; she had made use of the suffrage to form another;
she stands on the same basis as ourselves. Mr. Rush did us great
honor by his ready recognition of a principle, as represented by
the French Provisional Government; had Mr. Cass been empowered to do the same, our country would have acted nobly, and
all that is most truly American in America would have spoken
to sustain the sickened hopes of European Democracy.   But of
this more when I write next. Who knows what I may have to
tell another week I"
She soon afterward wrote (June 6) to another friend as
follows: -
"On Sunday, from our loggia, I witnessed a terrible, a real
battle. It began at four in the morning: it lasted to the last
gleam of light.  The musket-fire was almost unintermitted; the
roll of the cannon, especially from St. Angelo, most majestic. As
all passed at Porta San Pancrazio and Villa Pamfili, I saw the
smoke of every discharge, the flash of the bayonets; with a glass,
could see the men. The French could not use their heavy cannon,
being always driven away by the legions of Garibaldi and,
when trying to find positions for them. The loss on our side is
about three hundred killed and wounded; theirs must be much
greater. In one casino have been found seventy dead bodies of
theirs......The cannonade on our side has continued day and
night (being full moon) till this morning; they seeking to advance
or take other positions, the Romans firing on them.  The French
throw rockets into the town; one burst in the court-yard of the
hospital just as I arrived there yesterday, agitating the poor sufferers very much; they said they did not want to die like mice in
a trap."
She writes, five days later, to her friend Emerson as
follows: -
"I received your letter amid the sound of cannonade and musketry. It was a terrible battle, fought here from the first till the
last light of day. I could see all its progress from my balcony.
The Italians fought like lions.  It is a truly heroic spirit that
animates them. They make a stand here for honor and their
rights, with little ground for hope that they can resist, now they
are betrayed by France.
185 
RECOLLECTIONVS OF A BUSY LIFE.
"Since the 30th April, I go almost daily to the hospitals;  and
though I have suffered, -for I had no idea before how terrible
gunshot wounds and wound-fever are,- yet I have taken pleasure,
and great pleasure, in being with the men; there is scarcely one
who is not moved by a noble spirit.   Many, especially among the
Lombards, are the flower of the Italian youth. When they begin
to get better, I carry them books and flowers; they read, and we
talk.
"The palace of the Pope, on the Quirinal, is now used for convalescents. In those beautiful gardens, I walk with them,- one
with his sling, another with his crutch. The gardener plays off
all his water-works for the defenders of the country, and gathers
flowers for me, their friend.
"I feel profoundly for Mazzini; at moments, I am tempted to
say,'Cursed with every granted  prayer,'- so cunning is the
demon. He is becoming the inspiring soul of his people. He
saw Rome, to which all his hopes through life tended, for the first
time as a Roman citizen, and to become in a few days its rller.
He has animated, he sustains her to a glorious effort, wich, if it
fails this time, will not in the age.  His country will be free.  Yet
to me it would be so dreadful to cause all the bloodshed, to dig the
graves of such martyrs.
"Then Rome is being destroyed; her glorious oaks; her villas,
haunts of sacred beauty, that seemed the possession of the world
forever,-the villa of Raphael, the villa of Albani, home of Winkelmaun, and the best expression of the ideal of modern Rome,
and so many other sanctuaries of beauty,- all must perish, lest
a foe should level his musket from their shelter. I could not,
could not!
"I know not, dear friend, whether I shall ever get home across
that great ocean; but here inl Rome I shall no longer wish to live.
O Rome, my country! could I imagine that the triumph of what
I held dear was to heap such desolation on thy head!
" Speaking of the Republic you say,' Do not I wish Italy had
a great man?'  Mazzini is a great man.   In mind, a great poetic
statesman; in heart, a lover; in action, decisive, and full of resources as Caesar. Dearly I love Mazzini. He came in just as I
had finished the first letter to you. His soft, radiant look makes
melancholy music in my soul; it consecrates my present life, that,
186 
.IARGARET FULLER.
like the Magdalen, I may, at the important hour, shed all the
consecrated ointment on his head. There is one, Mazzini, who
understands thee well; who knew thee no less when an object of
popular fear, than now of idolatry; and who, if the pen be not
held too feebly, will help posterity to know thee too;"
Her friend, Mrs. William W.  Story, an eyewitness, writes
of her in those heroic days as follows:
"Night and day, Margaret was occupied, and, with the Princess
[Belgiojoso], so ordered and disposed the hospitals, that their conduct was truly admirable. All the work was skilfully divided, so
that there was no confusion or hurry; and, from the chaotic condition in which these places had been left by the priests, -who
previously had charge of them,- they brought them to a state of
perfect regularity and discipline.   Of money they had very little;
and they were obliged to give their time and thoughts in its place.
From the Americans in Rome they raised a subscription for the
aid of the wounded of either party; but beside this they had
scarcely any means to use. I have walked through the wards
with MArgaret, and saw how comforting was her presence to the
poor suffering men.' HIow long will Signora stayt''When will
the Signora come  again' they eagerly asked.   For each one's
peculiar tastes she had a care: to one, she carried books; to
another, she told the news of the day; and listened to another's
oft-repeated tale of wrongs, as the best sympathy she could give.
They raised themselves up on their elbows, to get the last glimpse
of her as she was going away.  There were some of the sturdy
fellows of Garibaldi's Legion there; and to them she listened, as
they spoke with delight of their chief, of his courage and skill; for
he seemed to have won the hearts of his men in a remarkable
manner."
Of course, this most unequal struggle could have but one
result. Rome, gallantly defended by the badly armed, ill-supplied, motley h1ost of volunteers, who had gathered from all Italy
to iuphiold the flag of the Republic, at last fell: the- superiority
of the French in numbers, in discipline, and in every resource,
being too decided to leave room for hope.  Margaret had
accompanied her husband to the battery in front of the enemy,
187 
RPECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
where his company was stationed on the last evening of the
siege; but the cannonade was not renewed, and next morning
the city surrendered. Husband and wife hastened directly
to RPieti, where their child had been left at nurse through the
storm; and whence she wrote her mother, saying'
"DEAREST MOTHER:  I received your letter a few hours before
reaching Rome.   Like all of yours, it refreshed me, and gave me
as much satisfaction as anything could at that sad time. Its
spirit is of eternity, and befits an epoch when wickedness and
perfidy so impudently triumph, and the best blood of the generous
and honorable is poured out like water, seemingly in vain.
"I cannot tell you what I suffered to abandon the wounded to
the care of their mean foes; to see the young men that were faithful to their vows hunted from their homes,- hunted like wild
beasts, -denied a refuge in every civilized land. Many of those
I loved sunk to the bottom of the sea by Austrian calnnon, or will
be shot; others are in penury, grief, and exile. May God give due
recompense for all that has been endured t
My mind still agitated, and my spirits worn out, I have not
felt like writing to any one. Yet the magnificent Summer does
not smile quite in vain for me. Much exercise in the open air,
living much on milk and fruit, have recruited my health; and I
am regaining the habit of sleep, which a month of nightly cannonade in Rome had destroyed.
"Receiving, a few days since, a packet of letters from America,
I opened them with more feeling of hope and good cheer than for
a long time past. The first words that met my eye were these, in
the hand of Mr. Greeley:' Ah, Margaret! the world grows dark
with us!  Yox grieve, for Rome is fallen; I mourn, for Pickie is
dead.'
"I have shed rivers of tears over the inexpressibly affecting
letter thus begun. One would think I might have become familiar enough with images of death and destruction; yet, somehow, the image of Pickie's little dancing figure lying stiff and
stark, between his parents, has made me weep more than all else.
There was little hope he could do justice to himself, or lead a
happy life, in so perplexed a world; but never was a character of
richer capacity, - never a more charming child. To me, he was
188 
MARGARET FULLER.
most dear, and would always have been so.  Had he become stained
with earthly faults, I could never have forgotten what he was
when fresh from the soul's home, and what he was to me when my
soul pined for sympathy, pure and unalloyed. The three children
I have seen who were fairest in my eyes, and gave most promise
of the future, were Waldo [Emerson], Pickie, Hermann Clarke;all nipped in the bud. Endless thought has this given me, and a
resolve to seek the realization of all hopes and plans elsewhere;
which resolve will weigh with me as much as it can weigh before
the silver cord is finally loosed. Till then, Earth, our mother,
always finds. strai, ge, unexpected ways to draw us back to her
bosom, -to make us seek anew a nutriment which has never
failed to cause us frequent sickness."
Having somewhat regained her health and calmness at
Rieti, she journeyed thence, with her husband and child, by
Perugia to Florence, where they were welcomed and cheered
by the love and admiration of the little American colony, and
by the few British liberals residing there, -the Brownings
prominent among them.  Here they spent the ensuing Winter,
and Margaret wrote her survey of the grand movement for
Italian liberty and unity, which had miscarried for the
moment, but which was still cherished in millions of noble
hearts. With the ensuing Spring came urgent messages from
her native land, awaking, or rather strengthening, her natural
longing to greet once more the dear ones from whom she had
now been four years parted; and on the 17th of May, 1850,
they embarked in the bark Elizabeth, Captain Hasty, at Leghorn, for New York, which they hoped to reach within sixty
days at farthest.
Margaret's correspondence for the preceding month is darkened with apprehensions and sinister forebodings, which were
destined to be fearfully justified. First: Captain Hasty was
prostrated, when a few days on his voyage, by what proved
to be confluent small-pox, whereof he died, despite his wife's
tenderest care, and his body was consigned to the deep.  Then
Angelo, Marg,aret's child, was attacked by the terrible disease,
and his life barely saved, after he had for days been utterly
189 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
blind, and his recovery seemed hopeless.  So, after a week's
detention by head winds at Gibralter, tliey fared on, under
the mate's guidance, until, at noon of July 15, in a thick fog,
with a southeast breeze, they reckoned themselves off the
Jersey coast, and headed northeast for the bay of New York,
which they expected to enter next morning. But the evening
brought a gale, which steadily increased to a tempest, before
which, though under close-reefed sails, they were driven with
a rapidity of which they were unconscious, until, about four
o'clock the next morning, the Elizabeth struck heavily on
Fire Island Beach, off the south coast of Lon,tg Island, and her
prow was driven harder and farther into the sand, while her
freight of marble broke through her keel, and her stern was
gradually hove around by the terrible waves, until she lay
broadside to their thundering sweep, her deck being careened
toward the land, the sea making a clear sweep over her at
every swell. The masts had been promptly cut away; but
the ship was already lost, and her inmates could only hope
to save their own lives.  Making their way with great difficuity to the forecastle, they remained there, amid the war of
elements, until 9 A. M., when, as the wreck was evidently
about to break up, they resolved to attempt the perilous passage to the desolate sand-hills which were plainly visible at a
distance of a few hundred feet; and, venturing upon a plank,
Mrs. Hasty, aided by a seaman named Davis, reached the shore.
But Margaret and her husband refused to be saved separately,
or without their child; and the crew were directed to save
themselves, which most of them did. Still, some remained on
the wreck, and were persuading the passengers to trust themselves to planks, when, at 3 P. M., a great sea struck the forecastle, carrying away the foremast, together with the deck
and all upon it. Two of the crew saved themselves by swimming; the steward, with little Angelo in his arms, both dead,
was washed ashore twenty minutes later; but of Margaret
and her husband nothing was evermore seen.
Just before setting out on this fateful voyage, she had written
apprehensively to a friend at home:
190 
MARGARET FULLER.
"I shall embark- more composedly in our merchant-ship; praying fervently, indeed, that it may not be my lot to lose my boy at
sea, either by unsolaced illness, or amid howling waves; or, if so,
that Ossoli, Angelo, and I may go together, and that the anguish
may be brief."
So passed away the loftiest, bravest soul that has yet irradiated the form of an American woman.
IN MEMORY
OF THE
MARTYRS TO HUMJAN LIBERTY,
WHO FELL
DURING THE SIEGE OF MAY AND JUNE, 1 849,
AS
DEFENDERS OF ROME;
STERNLY STRUGGLING
AGAINST OVERWHELMING NUMBERS, AGAINST AMPLE MUNITIONS,
AGAINST FATE:
THEIR HIGHEST HOPE THAT IN THEM, LIVING OR DEAD, THE
SACRED CAUSE SHOULD NOT BE DISHONORED:
THEIR PROUDEST WISH
THAT FREEDOM'S CHAMPIONS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD
MIGHT RECOGNIZE THEM AS BRETHREN,
NOBLY DYING
THAT SURVIVING MILLIONS MAY DULY ABHOR TYRANNY AND LOVE LIBERTY:
CLOSING THEIR EYES SERENELY,
IN THE GENEROUS FAITH THAT RIGHTS FOR ALL, DOMINION FOR NONE,
WILL SOON REVIVIFY THE EARTH BAPTIZED IN THEIR BLOOD.
STAY, HEEDLESS WANDERER!
DEFILE NOT WITH LISTLESS STEP THE ASHES OF HEROES!
BUT,
ON THE RELICS OF THESE MARTYRS, SWEAR A DEEPER AND STERNER
HATE TO EVERY FORM OF OPPRESSION:
HERE LEARN TO FEEL
A DEARER LOVE FOR ALL WHO STRIVE IOR LIBERTY:
HERE BREATHE A PRAYER
FOR THE SPEEDY TRIUMPH OF RIGHT OVER MIGHT, LIGHT OVER NIGHT;
AND FOR ROME S FALLEN DEFENDERS,
THAT THE GOD OF THE OPPRESSED AND AFFLICTED MAY HAVE
THEM IN HIS HOLY KEEPING.
"They never fail who die
In a great cause; the block may soak their gore;
Their heads may sodden in the sun; their limbs
Be strung to city gates and castle walls, -
But still their spirit walks abroad."
BYRON, Marino Faliero, Act II. Scene 2.
191
0.. 
XXIII.
BEGGARS AND BORROWERS.
EW  YORK is the metropolis of beggary.  The wrecks
of incapacity, miseducation, prodigality, and profligacy
drift hither from either continent, and are finally stranded on
our shore. Has a pretentious family in Europe a member
who is felt as a burden or loathed as a disgrace? money is
somehow scraped together to ship him off to New York; taking good care that there be not enough to enable him to ship
himself back again. Does a family co]lapse anywhere in the
interior or along the coast of our country, leaving a helpless
widow and fatherless children to struggle with difficulties
utterly unexpected and unprepared for? though too proud to
work, or even beg, where they are known, they are ready
enough to try their fortune and hide their fall in this great
emporium, where they would gladly do -if they could get
it - the vely work which they reject as degrading in the
home of their by-gone prosperity and consequence. Though
living is here most expensive, and only eminent skill or efficiency can justify migration hither on the part of any but
single young men, yet mechanics and laborers of very moderate ability, and even widows with small children, hie hither,
in reckless defiance of the fact that myriads have done so
before them,- at least nineteen-twentieths of them only to
plunge thereby into deeper, more squalid, hopeless misery
than they had previously known.  Want is a hard master
anywhere; but nowhere else are the sufferings, the woes, the
desperation, of utter need so trying as in a great city; and
they are pree;minently so in this city; because the multi 
BEGGARS'AND BORROWERS.
plicity of the destitute benumbs the heart of charity and
precludes attention to any one's wants, while each is ab  sorbed in his own cares and efforts to such extent that he
knows nothing of the neighbors who may be starving to
death, with barely a brick wall between him and them.
The beggars of New York comprise but a small proportion
of its sufferers from want; yet they are at once very numerous
and remarkably impudent. One who would accept a franc
in Paris, or a shilling in London, with grateful acknowledg ments, considers himself ill-used and insulted if you offer
him less than a dollar in New York. With thousands, beg gary is a profession, whereof the rudiments were acquired in
the Old World; but experience and observation have qualified
them to pursue it with veteran proficiency and success in the
New. Even our native beggars have a boldness of aspiration,
an audacity of conception, such as the magnificent proportions
of our lakes and valleys, our mountains and prairies, are
calculated to inspire. I doubt that an Asiatic or European
beggar ever frankly avowed his intent to beg the purchase money of a good farm, though some may have invested their
gains thus laudably; but I have been solicited by more than
one American, who had visited this city from points hundreds
of miles distant, expressly and avowedly to beg the means of
buying a homestead. I wish I were certain that none of these
had more success with others than with me.
Begging for churches, for seminaries, for libraries, has been
one of our most crying nuisances. If there be two hundred
negro families living in a city, they will get up a Baptist,
a Methodist, and perhaps an Episcopal or Congregational
Church; and, being generally poor, they will undertake to
build for each a meeting-house, and support a clergyman,in good part, of course, by begging, -often in distant cities.
A dozen boys attending a seminary will form a library association, or debating club, and then levy on mankind in general for the books they would like to possess. Thus, in addition to our resident mendicancy, New York is made the
cruising-ground, the harvest-field, of the high-soaring beggary
13
193 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
of a whole continent; while our princely merchants, at some
seasons, are waited upon by more solicitors of contributions
than purchasers of goods.   Hence, our rich men generally
court and secure a reputation for meanness, which may or
may not be deserved in a particular instance, but which, in
any case, is indispensable as a protection, like the shell of
a tortoise. Were they reputed benevolent and free-handed,
they would never be allowed time to attend to their business,
and could not enjoy an hour's peace in the bosom of their
respective families.
The chronic beggars are a bad lot; but the systematic borrowers are far worse. What you give is gone, and soon forgotten, -there is the end of it.  It is presumable that you
can spare, or you would have withheld it. But you lend (in
your greener days) with some expectation of being repaid;
hence, disappointment and serious loss,- sometimes, even
disgrace, - because of your abused faith in human nature.
I presume no year passes wherein the solvent business men
of this city lose so little as Ten Millions of Dollars borrowed
of them, for a few hours or days, as a momentary accommodation, by neighbors and acquaintances, who would resent a
suggested doubt of its punctual repayment; yet who never
do repay it.  I am confident that good houses have been
reduced to bankruptcy, by these most irregular and improvident loans.
Worse still is the habit of borrowing and lending among
clerks and young mechanics.  A part of these are provident,
thrifty, frugal, and so save money; another, and much larger
class, prefer to "live as they go," and are constantly spending
in drink and other dissipation that portion of their earnings
which they should save. When I was a journeyman, I knew
several who earned more than I did, but who were always
behind with their board.  Men of this class are continually
borrowing five dollars or ten dollars of their frugal acquaintances to invest in a ball, a sleigh-ride, an excursion, a frolic;
and a large proportion of these loans are never repaid.  Millions of dollars, in the aggregate, are thus transferred from
194 
BEGGARS AND BORROWERS.
the pockets of the frugal to those of the prodigal; depriving
the former of means they are sure to need when they come
to furnish a house.or undertake a business, and doing the lat ter no good, but rather confirming them in their evil ways.
Such lending should be systematically discountenanced and
refused.
I hate to say anything that seems calculated to steel others
against the prayers of the unfortunate and necessitous; yet
an extensive, protracted experience has led me to the conclu sion that nine tenths of those who solicit loans of strangers
or casual acquaintances are thriftless vagabonds, who will
never be better off than at present, or scoundrels, who would
not pay if they were able. In hundreds of cases, I have been
importuned to lend from one dollar up to ten dollars, to help a
stranger who had come to the city on some errand or other, had
here fallen among thieves (who are far more abundant here
than they ever were on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho),
been made drunk, and plundered of his last cent, and who
asked only enough to take him home, when the money would
be surely and promptly returned. Sometimes, I have lent
the sum required; in other cases, I have refused it; but I
cannot remember a single instance in which the promise to
repay was made gQod. I recollect a case wherein a capable,
intelligent New-England mechanic, on his way from an Eastern city to work two hundred miles up the Erie RPailroad,
borrowed of me the means of saving his children from famine
on the way, promising to pay it out of his first month's
wages; which he took care never to do. This case differs
from many others only in that the swindler was clearly of a
better class than that from which the great army of borrowers
is so steadily and bounteously recruited.
In one instance, a young man came with the usual request,
and was asked to state his case.  "I am  a clerk from NeV
Hampshire," he began, "and have been for three years employed in Georgia. At length, a severe sickness prostrated
me; I lost my place; my money was exhausted; and here
am I, with my wife, without a cent; and I want to borrow
195 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
enough to take me home to my father's house, when I will
surely repay it." "Stranger," was the response, "you evidently cannot stay here, and I must help you get away; but
why say anything about paying me?   You know, and I
know, you will never pay a cent." My visitor protested
and remonstrated; but I convinced, if I did not convert, him.
"Don't you see," I rejoined, "that you cannot have been
three years a clerk in a leading mercantile house in Georgia
without making the acquaintance of merchants doing business in this city? Now, if you were a person likely to pay,
you would apply to, and obtain help from, those merchants
whom you know; not ask help of me, - an utter stranger."
He did not admit the force of my demonstration; but of
course the sequel proved it correct.
I consider it all but an axiom, that he who asks a stranger
to lend him money will never pay it; yet I have known an
exception. Once, when I was exceedingly poor and needy,
in a season of commercial revulsion or "panic," I opened a
etter from tUtica, and found therein five dollars, which the
writer asked me to receive in satisfaction of a loan of that
sum which I had made him - a needy stranger - on an occasion which he recalled to my remembrance. Perplexed by
so unusual a message, and especially by receiving it at such
a time, when every one was seeking to borrow,- no one
condescending to pay, - I scanned the letter more closely,
and at length achieved a solution of the problenm. The writer
was a patient.in the State lunatic asylum.
A gushing youth once wrote me to this effect:
"DEAR SIR:  Among your literary treasures, you have doubtless preserved several autographs of our country's late lamented
poet, Edgar A. Poe. If so, and you can spare one, please enclose
it to me, and receive the thanks of yours truly."
I promptly responded, as follows:  "DEAR SIR: Among my literary treasures, there happens to be
exactly one autograph of our country's late lamented poet, Edgar
A. Poe. It is his note of hand for fifty dollars, with my indorse
196
i
I 
BEGGARS AND BORROWERS.
ment across the back. It cost me exactly $ 50.75 (including protest), and you may have it for half that amount. Yours, respectfully."
That autograph, I regret to say, remains on my hands, and
is still for sale at first cost, despite the lapse of time, and the
depreciation of our currency.
I once received a letter from an utter stranger, living' two
hundred miles away, asking me to lend him a large sum on a
mortgage of his farm, and closing thus: -
"P. S. My religious views are radically antagonist to yours;
but I know no member of my own church of whom I would so
readily, and with such confidence, ask such a favor, as of you."
This postscript impelled me, instead of dropping the letter
quietly into the waste-basket; as usual, and turning to the
next business in order, to answer him as follows: -
"SIR: I have neither the money you ask for, nor the inclination to lend it on the security you proffer. And your P. S.
prompts the suggestion that, whenever I shall be moved to seek
favors of the members of some other church, rather than of that to
which I have hitherto adhered, I shall make haste to join that
other church."
-I trust I have here said nothing calculated to stay the
hand or chill the spirit of heaven-born Charity. The world
is full of needy, suffering ones, who richly deserve conmpassion; not to speak of the vagrants, who, though undeserving
must not be allowed to starve or freeze. I was struck with
the response of a man last from St. Louis, who recently insisted on being helped on to Boston, which he said was his
early home, and to whom  I roughly made answer,-" You
need not pretend to me that the universe is bankrupt: I
know better, - know that a man of your natural abilities, if
he 6nly behaved himself, need not be reduced to beggary-."
"Well, sir," he quickly rejoined, "I don't pretend that I have
always done the right thing,- if I did, you would know better, -all I say is, that I am hungry and penniless, and that,
if I can only get back to Boston, I can there miiake a living.
197 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
That's my whole story."  I felt that he had the better reason
on his side.
There must, there will, be heavy drafts made on the syirmpathies and the means of all who can and will give, especially
during a hard, dull Winter or a "panic."  Every prosperous
man should ask himself, "How much can I afford to give?"
and should set apart from a tenth to a third of his income for
the relief of the needy and suffering. Then he should search
out the most effective channels through which to reach those
whose privations are greatest, and on whom private alms call
be wisely and usefully expended. There are thousands who
ought to go to the Almshouse at once,- who will be more
easily supported there than elsewhere,-and it is no charity
to squander your means on these. A great majority of the
destitute can be far better dealt with by associations than by
individuals; and of good associations for philanthropic purposes there is happily no lack in any great city. There remains a scanty residuum of cases wherein money or food
tnust be given at once, by whomsoever happens to be nearest
to the sufferer; but two thirds of those who beg from door to
door, or who write begging letters, are the very last persons
who ought to be given even a shinplaster dime.  And, as a
general rule, the importunity of a beggar is in inverse ratio to
his deserving, or even to his need.
-" Then you condemn borrowing and lending entirely?"
No, I do not. Many a man knows how to use, wisely and
beneficently, means that he does not, while others do, possess:
lending to such, under proper safeguards, is most commendable. Many a young farmer, who, by working for others, has
earned one thousand dollars, and saved a good part of it, is
now prepared to work a farm of his own. He who lends
such a youth from one thousand to two thousand dollars,
wherewith to purchase a farm, taking a mortgage thereon for
the amount, and leaving to the young farmer his own wellearned means wherewith to buy stock'and seed, provisions
and implements, will often enable him to work his way into
a modest independence, surrounded and blessed by a wife and
9
198
I 
BEGGARS AND BORROWERS.
children, -himself a useful member of society, and a true
pillar of the Stae, - when he must, but for that loan, have
remained years longer single and a hireling.   So, a young
mechanic may often be wisely and safely aided to establish
himself in business by a timely and well-secured loan; but
this should never be accorded him till, by years of patient,
frugal industry, he has qualified himself for mastery, and
proved himself worthy of trust. (Of traders, there will always
be too many, though none should ever be able to borrow a
dollar.) But improvident borrowing and lending are among
our most prevalent and baneful errors; and I would gladly
conduce to their reformation.
I hold that it may sometimes be a duty to lend; and yet
I judge that at least nine of every ten loans to the needy
result in loss to the lender, with no substantial benefit to the
borrower.  That the poor often suffer from poverty, I know;
but oftener from lack of capacity, skill, management, efficiency,
than lack of money. Here is an empty-handed youth who
wants mqch, and must have it; but, after the satisfaction of
his most urgent needs, he wants, above all things, ability to
earn money and take gocd care of it.  He thinks his first
want is a loan; but that is a great mistake. He is far more
certain to set resolutely to work without than with that pleasant but baneful accommodation. Make up a square issue,"Work or starve!" - and he is quite likely to choose work;
while, provided he can borrow, he is more likely to dip into
some sort of speculation or traffic. That he thus almost iinevitably fools away his borrowed money concerns only the
unwise lender; that he is thereby. confirmed in his aversion
to work, and squanders precious time that should fit him for
decided usefulness, is of wider and greater consequence. The
widow, the orphan, the cripple, the invalid, often need alms,
and should have them; but to the innumerable hosts of
needy, would-be borrowers the best response is Nature's,"Root, hog, or die 1"
199 
xx IV.
DRAMATIC MEMORIES.
KNOW not that the instinctive yearning of human beings
U
for dramatic representations, and the delight with which
these are witnessed, alike by cit and savage, may not be a
dictate of Man's innate and utter depravity, inspired by the
great author of evil; yet I bear unhesitating testimony to its
existence. It is very nearly half a century since my father,
lying on a sick-bed, and supposed to be asleep, was intensely
amused, as I afterward heard him relate, by witnessing the
gambols of his three younger children, - all between eight
and three years old, - who rudely recast into a dramatic form
the nonsensical old song of "A frog he would a-wooing go,"
and enacted it - each personating one of the animals mentioned therein- for their own mutual delectation; supposing
that no one else was cognizant of the performance. I have
no reason to suppose that one of them had ever heard of a
theatre or play prior to that unique effort.
Four or five years later, after we had migrated to Vermont,
what was called an "exhibition " -  that is, a play - was set
on foot in our Westhaven school district, prompted by the
master, and I was allotted a part therein. The drama was
entitled, I think, "The Fall of Bonaparte," and was intensely
saturated with detestation of the great but fallen Corsican,
who, I believe, was still living, though in reduced circumstances. I recollect that my part was that of either General
or Captain Lescourt (both were in the play, and I have forgotten which was mine); I only recollect that it was as full
of execration of the destroyer of French liberty, the betrayer
I
i. 
DRAMATIC MEMORIES.
of the hopes of the untitled millions, as even I could wish to
utter. I recollect that we had several recitations, and that
the play nearly spoiled our studies for that Winter; but I
cannot be certain of the consummation. I believe our play
was played-badly, of course; for the performers did not
average twelve years old, and not one of them had ever seen
a drama really enacted. If any one asserts from knowledge
that that long-expected and intently prepared-for "exhibition"
failed, for some reason, to come off, I shall not contradict
him, though my impression is different.
More years passed; and at length, while an apprentice at
Poultney, an "exhibition" was advertised to come off one
evening in the church at Wells, six miles south of us: so a
,party was made up to attend it, - I being one of that party.
Wells had rather a hard reputation in those days (perhaps
from the ill behavior of those who went thither from neighboring towns to "carry on "); which fame, I trust, it has since
outgrown.  It was late in Winter, with deep snow, but thawing; so that, to protect us from the balls of ice and snow constantly thrown at us from our horse's feet, a long board had
been set up on edge across the front of our rude sleigh, or,
rather, sled; and this, in passing a point of rock which projected into the narrow road through the forest which skirted
"Lake St. Austin" (otherwise Wells Pond), was caught and
held; so as to rake the sled clear of its human freight.   I
received a hurt on my right shin which remained unhealed
for years. But no one complained, all laughed; and we were
soon all on board and in motion again; reaching Wells in good
time for the "exhibition." The church was crowded with
eager, and not very critical, auditors; tlhe players were considerably older than we of Westhaven were at the date of our
maiden effort; and I presume the playing was better, mainly
because it could not easily be worse. There were several
pieces (most of them literally so) on the bills, and all were
duly undergone; yet even their names have escaped me.
One peculiarity remains firmly imbedded in my memory.
There was a scene in one of the plays wherein a man snugly
201 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
hidden amid the thick branches of an evergreen tree overhears
a plot to commit robbery, and perhaps murder also. Whereupon he bides his time, and duly precipitates himself on the
robber (or robbers) in the very act, putting him (or them) to
death or flight, and gallantly rescuing the intended victim.
Well: here is where the laugh comes in: The tree- a substantial pine or hemlock, some eight inches through, and
twenty feet high -had been firmly implanted in the stage
before the "exhibition" began; and there it remained to the
end, - forming a noticeable, but not very congruous, portion
of the furniture of every parlor, boudoir, prison-cell, courtroom, &c., &c., from first to last. If city audiences were less
fastidious, I suspect that managers might have learned how
to retrench their expenses for furniture, fixtures, scenery,
attendants, &c., by studying that Wells." exhibition."
Unluckily, some of my companions on that excursion were
of the "won't go home till morning" stamp, and could not
see why any one should go to Wells unless to have a (high
old time."  They controlled the team, and would neither set
it on the road to Poultney, nor permit the rest of us to do so,
until late the next day, Meantime, they would neither sleep
nor tolerate slumber on the part of any one else. The performances of the latter half of the night were a little wilder
and rougher than any I was ever before or since implicated
in, however innocently, and Wells was nowise to blame therefor. I never saw that respected village save during that
single visit; and I sincerely trust that my reputation there
is not based on the average conduct of my party on that exceptionally boisterous occasion. It was never before nor
since so hard for me to work as during the afternoon and
evening following our return to Poultney.
More years passed; I had migrated to this city; and, in
December, 1831, I was first a spectator of a genuine dramatic
performance. The place was the Old Bowery; the play was
William Tell; the hero's son was personated by a Miss Mestayer, then in her early teens, and still, I think; on the stage,
though I have not seen her these many years.  The night
202 
DRAMATIC MEMORIES.
was intensely cold, in-doors as well as out; the house was
thin; the playing from fair to middling; yet I was in raptures from first to last. I have since thought that the wise
way would be to choose a fit occasion, go once to a good
theatre, and never darken the doors of any playhouse again.
I never yet entered a green-room, and have no desire to enter
one; but, dim as is my eyesight, I cannot now help seeing
boards, and paint (coarsely laid on), and spangles, and general
tawdriness, where I once saw glory, and beauty, and splendor,
and poetry, -life idealized, and Paradise realized. Yes; unless to recall lost dreams while watching the ecstasies of children on their first visit, I judge that the wise man is he who
goes but once to the theatre, and keeps the impression then
made on his mind fresh and clear to the close of life.
During that, my first Winter in New York, a new theatre
was opened at Richmond Hill (corner of Charlton and Varick
Streets), in what was said to have been Aaron Burr's countryseat thirty years before, and was still deemed far up town,
tliougl! now far below the bulk of our population. There
were no street-cars, and scarcely an omnibus, in those days
Richmond Hill was away from the great thoroughfares; so,
though the house Was small, it was seldom well filled; and
we journeymen printers, who worked on newspapers that
helped the theatres to auditors, were admitted on orders from
the editors respectively. on Saturday evenings, when audiences
were habitually and emphatically thin. I think I thus attended ten or twelve times, - oftener than in any five consecutive years thereafter.  The manager was a Mr. Russell,gossip said ivrs. Russell, who was certainly the better player,
and presumptively a cleverer person, than her husband, whose
talents were nevertheless respectable. Here I saw Mrs. Duff
personate Lady Macbeth better than it has since been done in
this city, though she played for $30 per week, and others
have received ten times that amount for a single night.  I
doubt that any woman has since played in our city, -and
I am thinking of Fanny Kemble, -who was the superior of
Mis. Duff in a wide range of tragic characters.  I am not
203 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
sufficiently familiar with the present stage to render my judg ment of much value; yet it seems to me that Henry Placide
at the Park was a better general comedian than we now have,
though John S: Clarke and Joseph Jefferson probably each
surpass him in a certain round of characters, and Sothern
stands alone as Lord Dundreary. Barney Williams is a clever
Irishman of his kind; so is William J. Florence: but is not
this decidedly a poorer kind than the genial, gentlemanly
Irishman of the lamented Power? I have seen fellows (none
of these) personating Irishmen on our stage,   and with a
rude, Chinese fidelity to a low, vulgar type of Irish character,
-who seemed to me deserving of indictment as libellers of
an unlucky race, who, with all their faults, never yet made
themselves despicable.
A glad vision is evoked from the long-buried past as I recall
and review the playing I have seen,- that of Naomi Vincent,
who appeared at the Old Bowery, became Mrs. Hamblin, and
died while still very young. I never saw her off the stage;
am.not sure that she was beautiful, nor even that she had the
elements of a great actress in her nature; but beauty of mind
she must have had, or her face greatly belied her. I never
saw another walk the stage with such an ingenuous, trustful,
confiding manner, evincing either artlessness or the perfection
of art, - in her case, I am sure, it must have been the former.
Yet her dramatic capacities were barely in the bud - hardly
in the blossom- when she was called away by inexorable
Death.
While in Europe, I attended some half a dozen plays,mainly operatic, - but the only one that much impressed me
was that wherein several popular authors took part, in behalf
of the fund for the relief of their luckless and decayed brethren.
The Duke of Devonshire had fitted up a theatre in his London
palace, - a very large and fine one, - Bulwer had written "Not
so Bad as we Seem" for the occasion; and the leading parts
in it were presented by Douglas Jerrold, Mark Lemon, Charles
Dickens, &c., &c. I believe the actresses were drawn from the
ranks of the profession; so that their playing was less bad than
204 
DRAMATIC MEMORIES.
that of the men, who were for the most part- not to speak it
profanely- sticks.  I never witnessed more melancholy failures than the attempts at dignity and courtesy of those who
stood for noblemen. The demonstration of Thackeray's theory
that the British plebeian is essentially a snob was perfect.
But we had for afterpiece a farce, written by Dickens and
Mark Lemon conjointly; and the chief part - that of a smart,
garrulous, conceited lawyer, named Gabblewig - was played
by Dickens most admirably. Though it was not concluded
till after midnight, I suspect most of the auditors found this
play entirely too short.
I witnessed the debut in America of Fanny Kemble and
her father, - she being in her spring-time of youth and its
comeliness; he either a man of little genius, or suffering from
the premature decay of his physical powers. I heard the
first notes that Jenny Lind condescended to exchange for our
dollars, - either of them of greater worth than those of today. As I never heard Malibran, I cannot say that Jenny
Lind's.vocal power exceeded that of any other woman who
ever lived, though I suspect such was the fact. I saw and
heard Forrest in his later prime, and judged him effective in
a round of characters by no means the highest. When in
Paris, I attended several representations at the Theatre Frandais, and, though I understood little that was said, I could
not fail to notice the wide difference between French and
Anglo-Saxon acting, -a difference nowise creditable to the
latter. Off the stage, the French are more demonstrative and
theatrical than the English. Why is it that their positions
are reversed before the foot-lights? - that the Frenchman is
there quiet, simple, natural, and the Anglo-Saxon quite otherwise.  Why does the "star" of our kin walk as though on
stilts, and speak like an auctioneer's bellman? Can any one
explain this strange incongruity?
Of late years, I have seldom visited the theatre, unless to
accompany some country friend to whom a play was a novelty
205 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and a luxury; having been repelled by its habitual leaning
to the side of Slavery, Tippling, and other iniquities whereby
some men derive profit from others' weaknesses. The stage
was of old a powerful ally of Liberty; yet, throughout our
long and arduous struggle against the vilest and grossest system of oppression ever known, it had ever so many sneers
and slurs to each cheering, sympathizing word for the champions of Man's right to his own limbs and sinews. Why this
was, I stop not here to inquire: I rest on the shameful fact.
And the Temperance Reform has likewise been confronted
at every step by scurrilous jests, insidious flings, and mean
insinuations, from before the foot-lights. Hence thousands,
impatient of constant misrepresentation and insult, have abandoned the theatre.
I believe that it is even yet possible to restore the failing
prestige of the stage,- to revive its by-gone glories in the
ages when eminent moralists, like Addison and Dr. Johnson,
were its steadfast patrons, and when actors like Garrick and
John Philip Kemble were the honored and intimate friends
of the proudest nobles in the land. But, to achieve this, we
must have a manager who can nowise be bribed or tempted
to minister to prurient appetites, nor pettifog the cause of
the oppressor. We must have a stage which commands
the respect of the wise and good, of the philanthropic and
humane, by never varnishing villany, never sneering at virtue, never pandering to lewd impulses, nor gilding with sophistry the car of triumphant wrong. I know that "confidence,
is a plant of slow growth," -that, once justly forfeited, it is
not easily regained; yet I feel sure that there will yet be a
stage which, by years of patient, self-sacrificing devotion to
right and justice, to freedom and humanity, will win the favor
and support of the noble and worthy, and will exert a benign
influence over the earthly progress and destiny of our race.
206 
xxv.
"OLD ZACK.'"
UPR Whig anticipations of mali,n results from the defeat
of Clay by Polk, in the Presidential contest of 1844,
were fully justified by the result. The XXIXth Congress,
elected with Polk, was strongly Democratic; Mr. Robert J.
Walker, of Mississippi, who was made Secretary of the Treasury, devoted his first annual Report to an elaborate and skilfill attack on the Protective policy, and on the Tariff of 1842;
and Congress proceeded thereupon to pass a new Tariff, substantially as drafted by Mr. Walker, which not only effaced
or modified the Protective features of the Tariff of 1842, but
substituted Ad. Valorem for nearly every Specific duty embodied in the latter. In other words: where the Tariff of
1842 imposed a duty of so many dollars per ton on a particular kind of iron (for instance), that of 1846 substituted one
of 30 per cent. on its value; so that, whenever iron brought a
high price, the duty on its importation was correspondingly
high; but, when the price ran down to zero, the duty was
diminished in proportion; being thus highest when it was
least needed by our iron-workers, and lowest when their need
of Protection was greatest. And'this act, though opposed by
every representative of Pennsylvania in Congress but one, was
carried through the Senate by the casting vote of Vice-President Dallas, whose nomination had been harped upon in the
Presidential canvass as a guaranty to Pennsylvania, that the
Tariff of 1842 would stand unaltered! Thus the very staff
on which she leaned proved a spear to pierce her.'
In 1844, that State had chosen 12 Democrats, 10 Whigs, 
RECOLLECTIONLS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and 2 Natives, as her representatives in the XXIXth Congress; electing the Democratic Governor by 4,397 majority.
We took an appeal to her people in the election of 1846, and
they reversed their verdict of 1844, or, rather, attested that
they had been deceived in rendering it; choosing the WVhig
over the Democratic candidate for Canal Commissioner (the
only office filled at that election by a general vote of her
people) by a majority of 8,894, on a light vote.  At this election, she chose 16 Whigs and 1 Native to 8. Democrats, to
represent her in the XXXth  Congress.  New  York, New
Jersey, North Carolina, and even Virg,inia, also showed decided
Whig gains; so that, though Maine, New Hampshire, Indiana,
Illinois, Missouri, and Michigan remained strongly Democratic, along with the Cotton States, the new House had a
small Whig majority, whereby Robert C. Winthrop, of Boston,
was chosen Speaker.  This was a clear verdict against Mr.
Polk's Administration, and more especially against its dealing,s with the Tariff. question in acquiring and ill wielding
po.wer.
Mr. Polk had not yet been inaugurated when the indorsement and momentum given to the Annexation policy by his
election carried a bill, providing equivocally for the acquisition
of Texas, through both Houses of the expiring Cong,ress,  the
Senate being with difficulty, and not without intimidation,
induced to concur therein by a bare majority. President
Tyler eagerly signed it, and despatched an acgent post-haste to
Texas to secure her assent, which was as eagerly given.  Mr.
Polk, soon after his inauguration (March 4, 1845), despatched
a considerable part of our little army, under General Zachary
Taylor, to the southern limit of the territoiy actually possessed by the Texans, near Corpus Christi, where the General
halted, and awaited explicit orders- which were finally sent
him - to cross the intervening desert, and advance to the Rio
Grande del Norte, nearly opposite Matamoros. WThen hle had
thus invaded a region which had, except for a very few days,
been in peacefully undisturbed possession of Mexicans for at
least a century, he was attacked by a Mexican force, under
208 
"OLD ZACK."
Ampudia and Arista, which he easily routed, first at Palo
Alto; * then, pursuing, at Resaca de la Palma; t whence the
Mexicans were driven across the river in disorder; evacuating
Matamoros, when General Taylor crossed, without making a
shadow of resistance.  And the war thus begun was prosecuted with such manifest disproportion of resources and of
military prowess, that New Mexico and Upper California were
yielded to our arms without a serious contest.  General
Taylor defeated Santa Anna with an army thrice as numerous
as his own at Buena Vista, t in the heart of Northern Mexico,
where fell Henry Clay, Jr., at the head of his Kentucky regiment, and Hon. John J. Hardin, of Illinois, also commnanding
a regiment of volunteers, with many others of our bravest and
best. The Mexicans' loss was, as usual, considerably heavier
than ours. Furthier advance on this line being impracticable,
- the country being in the main a rLugged, waterless desert,
- General Scott was despatched with an army considerably
larger than General Taylor's to Vera Cruz, which he soon reduced; ~ advancing thence, with 10,000 men, directly on the
city of Mexico; being opposed by Santa Anna, with 15,000
men, at a difficult and strongly fortified pass in the mountains, fifty miles inland, known as Cerro Gordo, which he
carried after severe fighting; [ the Mexicans losing five generals and 3,000 men. Scott thence advanced by easy marches,
wholly unopposed, through Xalapa and Perote, to Puebla,
where he waited some time in expectation of peace; but none
was offered, and he again advanced to the vicinity of the
capital, where Santa Anna had collected 30,000 men to stop
the march of Scott's 12,000, behind such,intrenchments, and
in positions of such natural strength, that he deemed them
impregnable.  But those works were partly turned by a flanking movement toward the South, when that at Contreras was
assaulted at 3 A. M., ~ and carried by the bayonet; the Mexicans losing 22 guns, 700 killed, and 1,500 prisoners.  Pursuing their advantage, our soldiers next attacked the Mexicans
y  February 22, 1847.
~ March 27.
14
209
* May 8,1846.
t May 9.
I11 April 18.
11 August 20. 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
at Chutrubusco (or San Pablo), where the latter were again
beaten, after a protracted resistance, with a loss of 1,000 on
our side to 5,000 on theirs. The battle closed at the gates of
the city of Mexico, which General Scott might at once have
entered; but he chose to remain outside, while a volunteer
effort at peace-making, by Mr. Nicholas P. Trist, was made,
without immediate result. Meantime, the Mexicans had
strongly intrenched themselves at Chepultepec, on the south
side of the city; and another fight took place at Molino del
RPey,* near Tambago, where General Worth's division routed
a force of twice its own numbers, inflicting a loss of 3,000,
but suffering one of 700, including Colonels Martin Scott and
Graham. Chepultepec was next bombarded and assaulted; t
the Mexicans being driven from it with great loss, and pursued to thie gates of the city, where they were met at midnight by commissioners, who gave notice that Santa Anna
was escaping with the remnant of his forces, and that the
capital was at General Scott's mercy.  Our soldiers   reduced
by. so many bloody conflicts to about 6,000 effectives -
marched in without further resistance, and the Stars and
Stripes floated over the "halls of the Montezumas!"  Peace
-despite the difficulty of finding a responsible government
wherewith to make it -was at length negotiated;:t Mexico
ceded New Mexico and upper California to the United States;
abandoned all her rights in or claim to Texas; and received
from us an indemnity of $ 15,000,000, whereof $ 3,000,000
were to be reserved, and applied to the payment of our citizens who had claims against her for spoliations. So ended -
when our forces had been withdrawn, and the stipulated payments made- our war upon Mexico.
The Presidential canvass of 1848 opened directly thereafter.  General Zachary Taylor- a native of Virginia, but
long resident in Louisiana - had evinced qualities in the war
which strongly commended him to many as a candidate for
* September 8.    t September 12, 13.   t February 2, 1848.
210 
"OLD 7ZACK."
our highest civil office. Though his part in it was less brilliant, less important, than that of General Scott, he had commended himself far more widely to popular favor. Quiet,
resolute, sententious, unostentatious, he was admired by mnultitudes who profoundly detested the war wherein he had so
suddenly achieved renown; and many of them gloated over
the prospect of hurling from power the politicians who had
so wantonly plunged us into a contest of aggression and invasion by means of the very instrument which they had employed to consummate their purposes.
I nlon-concurred in this view, most decidedly.   General
Taylor, though an excellent soldier, had no experience as a
statesman, and his capacity for civil administration was wholly
undemonstrated. He had never voted; had, apparently, paid
little attention to, and taken little interest in politics; and,
though inclined toward the Whig party, was but slightly identified with its ideas and its efforts. Nobody could say what
were his views regarding Protection, Internal Improvement,
or the Currency. On the great question -which our vast
acquisitions from Mexico had suddenly invested with the
gravest importance - of excluding Slavery from the yet untainted Federal Territories, he had nowise declared himself;
and the fact that he was an extensive slaveholder justified
a presumption that he, like most slaveholders, deemed it right
that any settler in the Territories should be at liberty to take
thither, and hold there as property, whatever the laws of his
own State recognized as property. We desired to "take a
bond of fate" that this view should not be held by a Whig
President, at all events.
And then I (with many others) wanted to try over again
the issue on which I thought we had been defrauded in 1844.
It seemed impossible that Pennsylvania (in view of her recent
experience) should aycgain be persuaded that any Democrat
was as good a Protectionist as Henry Clay. True, we had
not defeated Governor Shunk's reelection in 1847; but the
running of distinct Whig and Native candidates for Governor
rendered our defeat inevitable. New York we had carried in
211 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
1847 by a very large majority, -the Free-Soil section of the
Democratic party withholding its votes from the pro-Slavery
or "(Hunker" State ticket. The Whigs of our State were
mainly for Clay; we could give him her electoral vote; and
this, with Pennsylvania, made his election morally certain.
Hence I worked hard to secure his nomination.
The attempt to run a parallel between this case and that of
1840 failed in the most material point. General Harrison
may not have been so able as Mr. Clay, but he was not less
earnestly and unequivocally a Whig.  No one could indicate
a shade of difference in their political views. General Harrison's military career was brief and casual; his life had been
that of a civilian, honored and trusted by all Administrations
between 1800 and 1828,-  a Territorial Governor, United
States Senator, and Ambassador to Colombia. General Taylor,
now an old man, had been in the regular army from boyhood,
and was in all things a veteran soldier. His slender acquaintance with and interest in politics was nowise feigned, but was
usual and natural with men of his class and position.
The Whig National Convention met at Philadelphia on the
1st of June.   There was a pretty full, but not extraordinary,
attendance. I believe ex-Governor Morehead, of North Carolina, presided. It was very soon apparent that the shrewd,
influential, managing  politicians were generally for  Taylor,
who had a plurality, but not a majority, on the first ballot,
and gained steadily on the two following, viz.:                                      1st.  2d.  3d.
Taylor,...................   III  111  8  133
Clay............ 9...    7   86   74
Scott........................  43    49   54
Webster,........... 22   22   17
Scattering....................... 6 - -
An adjournment was now had till next morning; but the
issue was already decided, and General Taylor was nominated
on the next ballot; when the vote stood: Taylor, 171; Clay,
35; Scott, 60; Webster, 14.  All that we Clayites achieved
was the substitution of Millard Fillmore as Vice-President for
Abbott Lawrence, of Boston, who was on the Taylor slate; but
212
m 
"OLD ZACK."
the evidences of dissatisfaction induced the managers to take
him off, and let Mr. Fillmore be nominated.
The Democrats had met at Baltimore, May 22, and, after a
spirited contest, nominated General Lewis Cass, of Michigan,
for President, and General William O. Butler, of Kentucky,
for Vice-President. This ticket was respectable both as to
character and services, yet its prospects were marred by the
fact that that faction of the New York Democracy which had
been known as "Barnburners," or Free-Soil men, reseilting
the admission of their competitors to seats in the Convention,
had bolted, and refused to be governed by the result. Ultimately, they united with the Abolitionists, and with synlpathlizing Democrats in other States, in holding a National
Convention at Buffalo, which nominated Martinl Van Buren,
of New York, for President, and Charles Francis Adamns, of
Massachusetts, for Vice-President. This ticket, though it
obtained no single electoral vote, blasted the hopes of General
Cass and the regular Democraey.  Running, General Dix for
Governor of this State, with Seth M. Gates'(Abolition) for
Lieutenlant-Governor, it polled a larger popular vote than was
given to Cass; while General Taylor- though he received
many thousands fewer of the people's votes than Mr. Clay did
four years previous - carried the State by 98,093 plurality.
Ie carried Pennsylvania likewise by 13,357 plurality, and
2,274 majority over all. Vermont and Connecticut gave him
pluralities only; while Massachusetts, IRhode Island, New
Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, North Carolina, Georgia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Louisiana, and Florida gave him absolute
majorities: making fifteen States in all that went for him,
giving him 163 electoral votes. General Cass had pluralities
only in Maine, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin,
and Iowa, just carrying the two last named; he was run very
close by Taylor in Virginia, Alabama, and Mississippi, but
carried them by majorities, as there was no third party in
either.  New Hampshire, Texas, and Arkansas were all the
States that went strongly for him; miaking fifteen States in all,
casting 127 electoral votes. General Cass received the vote
213
a 
RECOLLECTlOiVNS OF A BUSY LIFE.
of every State lying north and west of the Ohio and Missouri
rivers. General Taylor had a plurality of the popular vote in
the Free, and a small majority of that cast in the Slave States;
carrying seven of the former and eight of the latter. In the
entire Union, the popular vote stood: Taylor, 1,361,450; Cass,
1,221,920; Van Buren, 291,342.  (South Carolina choosing
her electors by the Leg,islature, no return of her popular vote
can be given.)
In the event, I think the anticipations of those who had
favored and those who had opposed General Taylor's noriination as the Whig candidate for President were both realized.
Hie proved an honest, wise, fearless public servant, - true to
his convictions, but yieldillng all proper fealty and deference
to those whose votes had placed him in the White House.
None more keenly regretted his sudden, untimely deathwhich occurred on the 9th of July, 1850, after he had been
sixteen months President - than those who had most strenuously resisted his nomination.
.Yet the fact: remains, that the Whig, party was demoralized
by that nomination, and lost ground thereby in the confidence
of the masses.  We had fought through our great struggle of
1844 on well-defined, important principles of national policy,
whereon we were at odds with our adversaries. We had
challenged them to meet us, and had met themr, in face-toface discussion of our respective views, and had shown the
people how and why their personal prosperity and well-being
would be promoted by the triumph of our ideas, our measures.
Beaten in the declared result, the Whig party never stood so
strong in the popular conviction that its aims were just and
its policy beneficent, as at the close of the canvass of 1844,
- as was evinced in our carrying the next House of PRepresentatives. On the other hand, our success in 1848 was the
triumph of General Taylor, not of our principles. It showed
that a majority preferred General Taylor to General Cass for
President: that was all.  We had fought the contest, not on
our principles, but on our candidates; hence, many  who
accepted our candidates were indifferent or averse to our
214
0 
"OLD ZACK."
principles; and the very Hiouse elected with or under General
Taylor ciOS3 a Democratic Speaker, and was organized to
oppose his Administration.  The Whigs could not say with
Pyrrhus, "Another such victory, and I am ruined!"  This
one sufficed to disintegrate and destroy their organization.
They were at once triumphant and undone.
I think I never saw General Taylor save for a moment at
the Inauguration Ball, on the night after his accession to the
Presidency. I was never introduced and never wrote to him;
and, while I ultimately supported and voted for him, I did not
hurry myself to secure his election. In fact, that of 1848 was
my easiest and least anxious Presidential canvass since 1824.
When a resolve opposing the Wilmot Proviso was laid on the
table at the Convention that nominated him, I felt that my
zeal, my enthusiasm for the Whig cause was also laid there.
Yet I have little faith in third-party movements, - which
are geierally impelled by an occult purpose to help one of the
leading parties by drawing off votes from the other.  General
Taylor at length avowed himself "a Whig, but not an ultra
Whig"; and I believe that was about the literal truth.  Zealous Whigs apprehended that he might, if elected, shrink from
discharging the officeholders appointed by Tyler and Polk;
but, after giving him a trial, they were constrained to admit
that he "turned out better than had been expected."  He
was a man of little education or literary culture, but of signal
good sense, coolness, and freedom from prejudice.   Few
trained and polished statesmen have proved fitter depositaries
of civil power than this rough old soldier, whose life had been
largely passed in camp and bivouac, on the rude outskirt of
civilization, or in savage wastes far beyond it. General Taylor
died too soon for his country's good, but not till he had
proved himself a wise and good ruler, if not even a great
one.
215 
XXVI.
CONGRESS. - MILEAGE.
IN our State Election for 1846, David S. Jackson (Demo    crat) had been chosen to represent the upper district of
our city in the XXXth Congress, by a small majority over
Colonel James Monroe (Whig,).  That majority was obtained
by bringing over from Blackwell's Island and polling in the
XIXth Ward the adult male paupers domiciled in the Almshouse- not merely those who had resided in our district
before they honored our city by condescending to live at her
expense, but those who had been gathered in from other districts.  Colonel Monroe objected to this as carrying a joke too
far; and, on his contesting the return of Mr. Jackson, the
House sustained the objection, and unseated Jackson without
replacing him by Monroe.  The people were required to vote
again.
By this time, it was 1848,- the year of General Taylor's
election.   Colonel Monroe confidently expected to be the
Whig, candidate, not merely for the vacancy, but for the ensuing (XXXIst) Congress.  The delegates, however, were "fixed"
for Mr. James Brooks, editor of The Express, who was duly
nominated for the XXXIst, while Colonel Monroe was tendered the nomination for the remaining ninety days (at $ 8
per day) of the XXXth Congress. He declined indignantly;
whereupon, that fag-end of a term was tendered to me. I at
first resolved to decline also,-  not seeing how to leave my
business so abruptly for a three months' sojourn at Washington; but thie nomination was so kindly pressed upon me, with
such apparently cogent reasons therefor, that I accepted it. 
CONGRESS. - MILEAGE.
There was never any doubt of the result. A politician soon
called on me, professing to be from Mr. Brooks, to inquire as
to what should be done to secure our election.  "Tell Mr.
Brooks," I responded, "that we have only to keep so still
that no particular attention will be called to us, and General
Taylor will carry us both in. There are not voters enough
in the district who care about either of us, one way or the
other, to swamp the majority that the Taylor Electors cannot
fail to receive."  The returns proved the correctness of this
calculation; the vote of the district st,nding as follows: —
Electors.....        Taylor.....  11,066
XXXth Congress...  Greeley.....             9,932
XXXIst Congress.. Brooks....   9,709
My Cass competitor had 6,826 votes; my Van Buren ditto,
1,681.
General Taylor received but a plurality of the vote of our
entire State, while Mr. Van Buren's popular vote exceeded
that for General Cass; but in our city the case was quite
otherwise; the a,ggregates being: Taylor, 29,057; Cass, 18,884;
Van Buren, 5,106. I believe that was the very last election
wherein our city ever gave a clear majority against the Democratic party, save that in 1854 her vote was pretty evenly
divided between the Democratic, Whig-Republican, and KnowNothling, parties. Owing to the Democratic split, nearly or
quite all the Representatives elected from our city to the
XXXIst Congress were Whigs.
The district from which I was chosen included all our city
above Fourteenth Street, with the XIth, XVth, and XVIIth
Wards lying below that street.  It then contained about one
third of the city's entire population; it now contains at least
two thirds.  When, soon after taking my seat, I introduced a
bill authorizing each landless citizen of the United States to
occupy and appropriate a small allotment of the National
Domain free of charge, a Western member wanted to know
why ANew York should busy herself as to the disposal of the
Public Lands. I responded that ny interest in the matter
was stimulated by the fact that I represented more landless
men than any other member on that floor.
217 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
When the pay of Members of Congress was originally fixed,
railroads and steamboats as yet were not; stage-coaches ran
on a few, and but a few, great highways of travel; most of
the members came part of the way on horseback, as some
came all the way.  It was therefore deemed just, in fixing
their compensation at $ 6 per day, to stipulate that a like sum
should be allowed as mileage, or the cost in time and money
of journeying each twenty miles on the roads to and from
Washington.
Congress, in time, raised its own pay to $ 8 per day, and $ 8
for every twenty miles in coming  to and returning from
Washing,ton.  In 1816, the pay was changed to $1,500 per
annum, the mileage remaining as before; but the people
revolted at this, and swept out nearly every member who had
voted for it. Henry Clay had not voted at all on the question; but he was Speaker when the bill passed, and was,
therefore, held responsible for its passage, - a responsibility
which he gallantly met. Opposed for reelection by one-armed
5ohn Pope,- one of the ablest men then living in Kentucky,
but who labored under the serious disadvantage of having
been a Federalist, - Mr. Clay had all he could do, by popular
addresses and personal appeals, to stem the tide of discontent
raised by the passage of the Compensation Act; even his
barber - a naturalized Irishman, who had hitherto been one
of his most enthusiastic, efficient supporters - maintaining
an ominous silence on the subject, until Mr. Clay himself
canvassed him, saying: "I trust I may count on your lhearty
support, as usual?" when he responded: "Faith, Mr. Clay, I
think I shall vote tthis time for the man who can get but one
hand into the Treasury."
Mr. Clay triumphed, as he ever did when a candidate for
the House; but he had to promise to favor a repeal of the
Compensation Act, which was carried without serious opposition. I think it was at this time that the pay was advanced
from $ 6 to $ 8 per day: mileage to correspond.
But the introduction and rapid multiplication of steamboats,
especially on our great trans-Alleghany network of rivers
218 
CONGRESS. - MILEA GE.
and lakes, rendered this mileage absurdly too high.  A member now traversed a distance of two thousand miles about as
quickly as, and at hardly more expense than, his predecessor
by half a century must have incurred on a journey of two
hundred miles, for which the latter was paid $80, and the
former $ 800.
Nor was this all.  The steamboat routes, though much
more swiftly and cheaply traversed, were  nearly twice
sometimes thrice- the length of the stag,e and horseback
roads they superseded. And -as the law said at first, and
continued to say, that they were to charge Mileage "by the
usually travelled route" - they now charged and received twice
as much for travelling five days in a sumptuous cabin, replete
with every luxury, as their fathers paid for roughing it over
the mountains in fifteen to twenty days, at a far greater cost.
Colonel Benton, -who deemed himself, and meant to be,
an honest man,- somewhere about 1836, made a claim on
the Treasury for about $ 2,000, which (he computed) was required tb bring up his Mileage in past years to a par with
the charges of others!-and this amount was'allowed and
paid him.
Said First Comptroller Elisha Whittlesey to me, near the
close of his long, upright, and useful public life: "Even Mr.
Calhoun has increased his charge for Mileage since the old
horseback and stage-coach days: and there is just one man
in Congress who charges Mileage now as all did then.  That
man is HENRY CLAY."
Getting into the House, I had access to the schedules of
Compensation and Mileage, which, (though they are said to
be printed) were not (and are not) easily found by outsiders;
and I resolved to improve my opportunity. So I hired a
reporter to transcribe them, and (using as a basis of comnparison the United States Topographer's official statement of the
distances from Washington, by the most direct mail-route, of
each post-office in the country) I aimed to show exactly how
much could be saved,iin the case of each member, by computing, Mileage on the most direct post-route instead of "the
219 
R.ECOLLECTlONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
usually travelled route." This expose, when prepared, was
transmitted to New York, duly appeared in The Tribune, and
so came back to Washington.
I had expected that it would kick up some dust; but my
expectations were far outrun. It happened that two of our
Whig members from Ohio had been run out by close votes at
the recent election (October, 1848), and that the crooked Mileage they charg,ed had been used with effect by their opponents in the canvass.  It might be all right for them to charge
Mileage from the heart of Ohio around by Lake Erie to Washington, when the Government had constructed a first-rate
national road from the vicinity of Baltimore due west through
Zanesville and Columbus to Indialnapolis; but the people
did n't or would n't see it.  These beaten sore-heads were
specially prompt and eager in preaching a crusade ag,aiinst me
on the floor.
Good and true men shared, to some extent, their feelings.
Rarely, for example, has our country been served by a purer,
more upright man than Hion. Jacob Collamer, of Vernlont.
"Mr. Greeley," said he to me, "is it not hard that I should be
held up to the public as a swindler? Look at the facts: I
live in Woodstock.  I take the stag(e to Windsor,-  twentytwo miles, -where I strike the nearest railroad.   I ride
thence by rail to Boston; from Boston to New York; from
New York to Washington.  It is the easiest and quickest
route I can take,-  lthe natural route of travel   I charge for
the miles I actually travel, - not one more. Why is not this
right?"
Judg,e," I responded, "now hear ze.  Your predecessors,
I happen to know, took stage from Woodstock to PRutland;
from PRutland to Troy; thence steamboat to New York; thence
railroad to Washington. It is now cheaper and easier for
you to go by Boston, - three hundred miles farther.  Will
you tell me why you should be paid $ 240 more per annum
because this cheaper and easier route ias lately been opened?
I concede you the advantage of the improved transit.  I protest against your charging $ 240, and the people paying it,
therefor. That is not just."
220 
CONGRESS. -MJLEA GE.
The only answer I ever received to this way of putting the
case was, "Such is the law."  But Congress was master of the
law, -  able, at any time, to make it just, - therefore bound
to make it just.  It was the object of my expose to compel
such adjustment.
General J. J. McKay, of North Carolina, once came across
to my seat.  He was a stern, pro-Slavery Democrat, and it
was not the habit of such to waste civilities on me.
"Mr. Greeley," he said, "you have printed me as charging
seven miles more than the actual distance from my home to
Washington.  The fact is not so.  I charge precisely as you
say is just, -by the shortest mail-route; but I live seven
miles beyond my post-office, and I charge from my own house."
"How could I know that?" I inquired..
"You could not," he replied.  "I am not blaming you; on
thie contrary, I thank you for what you have done. It was
needed, and will do good. I only wished that you should
know the facts."
As  I remember, thie Mileage  exposg was  first brought
formally to the notice of the House by IHon. William Sawyer,
of Ohio,- a very bitter Democrat, who had been annoyed, ere
this, by the strictures of a correspondent of The Tribune on
his habit of eating a luncheon in the House behind the
Speaker's chair.  He had a new grievance in the Milea,ge
expose, - in that, though the exlosd correctly stated the difference between h]is Mileage as charged, and what it would be
if computed by the most direct mail-routes, there was a blunder in the case of his nearest Whig neighbor, Hon. Piobert C.
Schenck, whose overcharge was not made nearly so much as it
should be. Schenck promptly rose and offered to swap with
his colleague, if that would afford him any satisfaction.  It
did n't.
There was one shabby dodge of those who stretched their
Mileage to the utmost, that challenged, but did not command,
my admiration: Each of them would find out which old stager
221 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
living near him had crowded his Mileage up to the highest
high-water mark; and, upon being asked by the Chairman of
the Committee on Mileage to state his distance from Washington, would respond, "I live -  miles beyond [or thlis side
of] Mr.."  The Chairman would make out his Mileage
accordingly; and now the indignantly virtuous beneficiary
would say, "I had nothing to do with the matter. The
Chairman made out my Mileage as he saw fit, and I took
whatever he allowed me."
The cleverer wounded pigeons knew a great deal better
than to take issue with me directly on the Mileage question;
whereon (as I told them) they were a party of ten-score, confronted by twenty-odd millions.  Their true expedient was a
back-fire; and they contrived to set one. This Congress had,
at its former session (when I was not a member), voted itself
the books which it had for years been the customn to purchase
for each new member, consisting of American Archives, Debates in Cong,ress, etc., now swelled (by enormous charges)
to a cost of about $1,000 per man. Those books had been
ordered and bought; nothing remiained but to pay for them.
I had resolved to vote against this item when the bill which
contained it came up in the House, though I knew it must be
paid; for I apprehended that the advocates of what are called
liberal appropriations would seek to make capital out of my
votillng, for such an item. Yet, when the usual Deficiency
Bill was rapidly going through the House in Commnittee of
the Whole, the members being called on a dozen times in
twenty minutes to vote (by rising) for or against some motion
or item, a mischievous neighbor called out to me, "There,you've voted' for the books!"  I presume it was so; and his
exultation was based on his knowledge that it was my purpose to vote against them. And yet (as I had often said)
had those books been bought at fair prices, and deposited as
public property by the receivers in public libraries and county
clerk's offices in their respective districts, the outlay would
have been judicious and proper.  It was well known, however, that many to whom the books were voted never took
222 
CONGRESS.- 3MILEA GE.
nor saw them,- merely drawing an order for them and selling it to the book-suppliers for so much cash in hand, -- less
than half what the books cost the Treasury.  In one case, a
member well known to me was reputed to have sold his order,
and gambled away the proceeds, before going to his lodging
the night after the appropriation was voted.
A concerted effort was made to involve me in glaring inconsistency on this subject, - A. testified that I had justified the
book-buying, -B. that I had denied having intended to vote
for it, -and so on. I presume that what each so asserted
was true, or nearly so; a very slight explanation might have
harmonized statements which were so made as to seem in
conflict.  For a time, it looked as though the Mileage men
had the uLpper hand of me; and I was told that a paper was
drawn up for signatures to see how many would agree to stand
by each other in voting my expulsion, but that the movement
was crushed by a terse interrogatory remonstrance from Hon.
John WTentworth, then a leading Democrat.
"Vhy, you blessed fools!" warmly inquired'long John,'
"do you want to make him President?"
They did n't, and so subsided.
Much has been said on sundry occasions about the time I
wasted, the trouble Imade, in the House, concerning Mileage.
In fact, I did not introduce the subject there, - made no
move regarding it, - and scarcely alluded to it.  Hon. Elijah
Embree, of Indiana, moved an amendment to the proper Appropriation Bill, providing that Mileag,e should thenceforth
be charig,ed by the most direct mail-route,- a clause which
would have saved to the Treasury-more than $100,000 per
annum,- and I voted for it; but it. was beaten in Committee
of the Whole, and I think never came to the yeas and nays. At
all events, the abuse was not corrected, and has not yet been;
though the last Colngress, in raising its own pay from $ 3,000
to $ 5,000 per annum, had the grace to cut down Mileage
from forty to twenty cents per mile by "the usually travelled
route."  But I think it is no longer "usual" for a man living
in central Ohio, Indiana, or Illinois to "swing around the
q~~~~~~
223 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
circle," via Detroit, Buffalo, Albany, and New York, in travelling from home  to Washington city; in fact, railroads are
generally straightening and shortening the "usual" routes of
travel I presume, therefore, that the worst excesses of the
Mileage swindle have ere this been abated.  So mote it be!
I do not imply that legislation, whether in Congress or elsewhere, is purer and cleaner now than it was twenty or forty
years ago. On the contrary, I judge that it is oftener swayed,
to the prejudice of the public interest, by considerations of
personal advantage, and that the evil tends strongly to increase and diffuse itself. The chartering of railroads through
public lands which are required (as is clearly just) to contribute to their construction, whether by liberal grants of territory or by direct subsidies in cash, and many kindred devices
for promoting at once public and private prosperity, have
strongly tended to render legislation mercenary, whether in
Congress, in  State legislatures, or in municipal councils.
When I was in the House, there were ten or twelve members
-not more than twelve, I am confident -who were generally
presumed to be "on the make," as the phrase is; and they
were a class by themselves, as clearly as if they were so many
black sheep in a large flock of white ones. I would gladly
believe that this class has not since increased in numbers or
in impudence; but the facts do not justify that presumption.
224 
XXVII.
CONGRESS AS IT WAS.
HEN  I first saw the Congress of the United States,
in the Summer of 1836, I judge that the Senate was
the ablest body of its numbers on earth. Though there were
scarcely more than fifty Senators in all, among them were
Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, John C. Calhoun, Silas Wright,
John Forsyth, John M. Clayton, George B. Poindexter,
Thomas  Ewing, William  C. Preston, Nathaniel  P. Tallmacldge, and James Buchanan.  The House, though less noticeably'strong, contained many able and eminent members,
headed by the "old man eloquent," John Quincy Adams, who
had been-with James K. Polk and Franklin Pierce, of
whom each was to be- President of the United States.
WhIen I entered the House twelve years later, Mr. Adams
had recently died in the Capitol, and been succeeded by
Horace Mann, who won much honor in his educational, but
little distinction in his parliamentary, career.  The Senate
was decidedly weaker than when I first looked down on it
from the gallery; but Messrs. Webster, Calhoun, and Clayton
were still members, while Messrs. Wright, Forsyth, Poindexter, and Preston had passed away, and Mr. Ewing was
living (as he still is) in retirement.  Mr. Polk was President,
and Mr. Buchanan was his Secretary of State.  Mr. Clay had
resigned in 1842, and had not since been in public life, save
that he was a candidate for President in 1844; but he was
reelected to the Senate that winter, and served thenceforth till
his death, June 29, 1852. Mr. Pierce, after serving four years
in the House, and five in the Senate, had resi,gned in 1843,
15 
RECOLLECTIONS OP' A BUSY LIFE.
and had since been in retirement, save that he took part in
the Mexican War. He had been so completely lost to
public life that his nomination for President, three or four
years afterward, seemed nearly equivalent to a resurrection.
Abraham Lincoln and Andrew Johnson (each then about
forty years old) were members of the House to which I was
chosen, as Mr. Johnson had been of the two preceding and
remained through the two following, when he was translated
to the Senate. Mr. Johnson, being a Democrat, seldom visited our side of the hall, and I saw much less of him than
of Mr. Lincoln, who was a Whig, and who, though a new
member, was personally a favorite on our side. He seemed
a quiet, good-natured man, did not aspire to leadership, and
seldom claimed the floor.  I think he made  but one set
speech during that session, and this speech was by no means
a loing, one. Though a strong partisan, he voted against the
bulk of his party once or twice, when that course was dictated by his convictions.  He was one of the most moderate,
though firm, opponents of Slavery Extension, and notably of
a buoyant, cheerful spirit. It will surprise some to hear that,
though I was often in his company thenceforward till his
death, and long on terms of friendly intimacy with him, I
never heard him tell an anecdote or story.
I judge that Massachusetts had, relatively, the strongest
delegation in the House; as hers included Robert C. Winthrop
(Speaker), Julius Rockwell, Joseph Grimiell, Charles Hudson, George Ashmun, Horace Manln, and John G. Palfrey.
Ohio probably ranked next; being in part represented by
Samuel F. Vinton (then Chairman of Ways  and Means),
Robert C. Schenck (who now fills that post), Joshua R. Gidding,s, and Joseph M. Root.  Of the Democrats in that House,
those whom I recollect as strongest were James J. McKay
and Abraham W. Venable of North Carolina, Howell Cobb
of Georgia, John Wentworth of Illinois, Jacob Thompson of
Mississippi, and George W.  Jones of Tennessee.   Messrs.
Alexander H. Stephens and Robert Toombs of Georgia were
conspicuous members, but both then Whigs, though they
226 
CONGRESS AS IT WAS.
have since been quite otherwise.  Vermont had already been
reduced to three representatives; but two of these were Jacob
Collamer and George P. Marsh.   Virginia had (I believe)
more Whigs in that House than in any before or since; and
among them were Johln M. Botts, William L. Goggin, and
John S. Pendleton.  I judge that A. H. Stephens was the
most acute, and perhaps the ablest, member of that House;
but one of the cleverest, if he had known how to take good
care of himself, was William T. Haskell of Tennessee, of
whom the world never heard.  He was not reelected, and
died a few years afterward.
I do not propose to give here a history of the little that was
achieved or the much that was said at that short session. As
those were the last sands of an Administration already superseded, the old heads of either party were indisposed to have
much done beside passing the necessary Appropriation bills;
and they were able to have substantially their own way.
It used to be a standing topic of complaint, in Cong,ress as
well as out of it, that too much time was wasted there in debate on abstractions, and especially on questions relating to
Slavery.  I was repeatedly asked, "Don't you want the floor
for a speech on the Slavery question? "- to which I answered
that I did not,- that my views on that subject were already
tolerably well known, and that I did not see how I could
use the time of the House to public advantage by haranguing
it on the threadbare topic.  I think I did once speak some
twenty minutes on the ruling theme; but it was on an evening set apart for general debate, and when the time was to be
thus wasted anyhow.  Yet, one day, w]hen the House was in
Committee on some bill having no necessary or proper connection with Slavery, a member rose and said, "Mr. Chairman, I propose to improve this opportunity to give my views
on'the Slavery question."   Hereupon another rose and said,
"Mr. Chairmanal, I object.  The subject of Slavery is not now
in order.  The rule of the House is plain and imperative:
the only subject that can be debated is that expressly before
us. I insist that the gentleman shall proceed, if at all, in
227 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
order." The Chairman decided that, since it had long been
the tolerated practice to discuss anything pertaining to the
state of the Union when in Committee on that subject, he
should rule that the gentleman was in order; and, though we
rallied a respectable force to overrule this decision, it was
triumphantly sustained, - those who were frequently denouncilng "Slavery agitation" taking the lead in its support.
Sundry attempts at reforming what were considered abuses
were made that Winter, but without brilliant success. We
tried to abolish flogging in the Navy, but were beaten. I
think it was Mr. (now General) Schenck who raised a laugh
against us by proposing so to amend that the commander of
a ship of war should never order a sail spread or reefed without calling all hands and taking a vote of his crew on the
question. We were temporarily successful in voting in Commnittee to stop dealing out strong drink to the sailors and
marines in our Navy, thiough this, too, was ultimately defeated; but, in the first flush of our delusive triumph, a member sitting near me, who had voted to stop the grog ration,
said to a friend who (I believe) had voted the same way,"Gid, that was a glorious vote we have just taken."   "Yes,
glorious," was the ready response. "Gid," resumed the elated
reformer, "let us go and take a drink on the strength of it."
"Agreed," was the willing echo; and they went.
I had been but a few days on the floor, when a leading
member on our side came along canvassing in behalf of an
embryo proposition that the House should pay from its contingent fund seven dollars and a half per column each' to The
Union and The National Intellig,encer respectively for reporting and printing our debates.  "You can't pass that scheme
here," I said, somewhat abruptly. "Well, sir, I believe you
have been a member of this House some four or five days,"
he retorted; "and you seem to begin early to decide what
measures can and what cannot pass." "No matter," I rejoined, "you can't pass that measure here." Nevertheless,
he tried, but couldn't.  Up to this period, I had been favorably regarded and kindly treated by Messrs. Gales and Seaton,
228 
CONGRESS AS IT WAS.
the excellent but unthrifty editors of The National Intelligencer; but they wasted no more civilities nor smiles on me
so long as they lived respectively.  They evidently could not
realize that any one could oppose such a proposition from
any impulse other than one of personal hostility or general
malignity.
An abuse had crept in, a few years before, at the close of
a long, exhausting session, when some liberal soul proposed
that each of the sub-officers and attaches of Cong,ress (whose
name is Legion) be paid two hundred and fifty dollars extra
because of such protracted labor. Thenceforth, this gratuity
was repeated at the close of each session, - the money being
taken by the generous members, not from their own pockets,
but Uncle Sam's, and the vote being now that "The  tsual
extra compensation," &c.  As our session was a light as well
as a short one, some of us determined to stop this Treasury
leak; and we did it once or twice, to the chagrin of the
movers.  At length, came the last night of the session, and
with it.a magnificent "spread," free to all members, in one
of the Commiittee-rooms, paid for by a levy of five dollars
per head from the regiment of iunderlings who hoped thus to
secure their "usual" gratuity; giving each a net profit on
the investment of two hundred and forty-five dollars.  After
the House had been duly mellowed and warmed, a resolve
to pay the "usual extra compensation" was  sprung, but
failed, - two thirds in the affirmative being necessary to
effect the requisite suspension of the rules.  Nothing daunted,
the operators drew off to repair damages; and soon there was
moved a resolve to pay the chaplain of the House his stipend
from the Contingent Fund, and to suspend the rules to accord
this resolve an immediate consideration.
"I object, Mr. Speaker," I at once interposed; "we all
know that the chaplain's salary has not been left unprovided
for to this time. This is a ruse, - I call for the Yeas and
Nays on suspending the rules."
"Shame! shame!" rose and reverberated on every side;
"don't keep the chaplain out of his hard-earned money! PRefuse the Yeas and Nays!"
229 
RECOLLEC7'IONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
They were according'ly'refused; the rules were indignantly
suspended, and the resolution received.
"And now, Mr. Speaker," said the member who  had been
cast for this part,." I move to amend the resolve before us by
adding the usual extra compensation to the sub-clerks, doorkeepers, and other employgs of the House."
No sooner said than done; debate was cut off, and the
amendment prevailed. The resolve, as amended, was rushed
through; and our em-ployJgs pocketed their two hundred and
fifty dollars each, less the five dollars so recently and judiciously invested as aforesaid.
I was placed by the Speaker on the Committee on Public
Lands, whereof Judge Collamer of Vermont was chairman,
and which was mainly composed of worthy, upright men,
intent on standing up for public'ri(ght against privrate greed.
Various fair-seemiing bills and claims came before us, some
of which had passed the Senate, yet which we put our heel
on as barefaced robberies.   Virginia land-claims (for additional bounty lands to her Revolutionary soldiers), a preemnption to part of Rock Island, a preemption  claim  to
Eelgrass Island, etc., -were among the jobs  remorselessly
slaughtered by us: our self-coniiplacency -not to say, selfconceit - steadily augmenting.  At length, there came along
a meek, innocent-looking strang,er, by whom we were nicely
taken in and thoroughly done for. It was a bill to cede to
the several New States (so called) such portions of the unsold
public lands within their limits respectively as were submerged or sodden, and thus rendered useless and pestilential,
-that is, swamps, marshes, bogs, fens, etc.  These lands, we
were told, were not merely worthless while undrained: they
bred fevers, ague, and all manner of zymotic diseases, shortening the lives of the pioneers, and rendering good lands adjacent unhealthy and worthless. But cede these swamp lands
to the States including them respectively, on condition that
they should sell them and devote the proceeds to draining
and improving them, and everything would be lovely, - the
neig(hboring dry lands would sell readily, and the Treasuy be
230 
CONGRESS AS IT WAS.
generously replenished, etc.  There was never a cat rolled
whiter in meal; and I, for one, was completely duped.   As I
recollect, the bill did not pass at that session; but we reported strongly in its favor; and that report, doubtless, aided
to carry the measure through the next Congress. The consequence was a reckless and fraudulent transfer to certain
States of millions on millions of choice public lands, whole
sections of which had not muck enough on their surface to
accommodate a single fair-sized frog; while the appropriation
of the proceeds to draining proved a farce and a sham. The
lands went, -all of them that had standing water enough on
a square mile of their surface to float a duck in March, with
a good deal more beside; while never a shake of ague has any
pioneer been spared by reason of all the drainage done
under this specious act. I can only hope that some of us
learned a wholesome lesson of distrust.
The last night of a session is usually a long one; and ours
was not only long, but excited. The two Houses were at
variance: The House desiring (at least, voting) to prohibit
the introduction of Slavery into the vast territories just then
acquired from Mexico; the Senate dissenting from that
policy.   Of course, we who voted for the restriction could
not carry it through nor over the Senate.   But that body
was not content to stand on the defensive: it attached to the
great Civil and Diplomatic Appropriation bill (since divided)
a provision for the organization of the new Territories,- of
course, without the restriction against Slavery, -and,  in
effect, said to us, "You shall agree to this, or the new [Taylor]
Administration shall not have a dollar to spend after the 1st
of July ensuing."  We  had one or two conferences by committee; but neither Ilouse would give way.   Finally, the
bill came back to us on this last evening, - the Senate insisting on its Territorial amendment.   Each side had rallied
in full force (there were but three of all the representatives
chosen from the Slave States who were not in their seats),
and we were morally certain to be beaten on a motion to
recede, -three or four weak brethren changing their votes
231
I 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
rather than leave the Government penniless; when some one
on our side -I believe it was iRichard W. Thompson of
Indiana- got in a motion to concur, with an anencdment.
This amendment accepted the Senate's project of organizing
the new Territories, barely adding a stipulation that thAe excisting laws thereof should remain     in force till changed by consent
of Congress. (The existing laws were those of Mexico, and
forbade Slavery.) This motion prevailed (as I recollect, the
vote on one important division stood one hundred and eleven
to one hundred. and ten), and completely changed the whole
aspect of the matter. The pro-Slavery men were now as
anxious to expunge the Territorial clause as they had previously been determined to insert it at all hazards; and the
Senate struck out its cherished provision, and let the Appropriation bill pass as it originally was, leaving the question of
Slavery in the new Territories as a legacy of trouble to the
incoming Administration. Never was a parliamentary move
more clever than that motion to concur with an amendment.
When it had been carried through our House, and while
the Senate was chewing upon it, there ensued a hiatus or
interregnum, -the House having really nothing to do but
wait. At such times, any member who has a pet project or
bill asks a suspension of the rules in favor of its consideration. Among these motions was one by Mr. RPobert W. Johnson
of Arkansas, who wished the House to consider a bill providing payment for horses lost by his constituents while acting
as volunteers in Indian wars. His motion to suspend the
rules failed; when I drew from my drawer a resolve, which
had lain there for weeks, proposing that our country take the
general name of COLUMBIA, ini honor of the great discoverer.
I was making a few remarks introductory to my motion to
suspend the rules, - which I knew would be defeated, - when,
as the affair was afterward explained to me, Mr. R. W. Johnson, my predecessor on the floor, turned upon Mr. O. B. Ficklin of Illinois, who sat very near him, and angrily said:
"Ficklin, why do you always oppose any motion I make?"
"I did not oppose your motion," was the prompt and true
232 
CONGRESS AS IT WAS.
reply.  "You lie!" rejoined Johnson, whose powers of obser vation were not then in their best estate, and he sprang for ward as though to clutch Ficklin; when Mr. Samuel W. Inge
of Alabama rushed upon the latter, and struck him two or
three blows with a cane.  "Order!  Order!- Sergeant-atarms, do your duty!" interposed the Speaker; and the affray
was promptly arrested.  "Why, Inge, what did you fall upon
Ficklin for?" inquired one of his neighbors; Ficklin being an
intensely pro-Slavery Democrat, as were Inge and Johnson.
"Why, I thought," explained Inge, "that the fight between
the North and the South had commenced, and I might as
well pitch in." I did not hear him say this; but it was reported to me directly afterward, and I have no doubt that he
said and thought so.
Mr. Giddings went over to the Democratic side of the
House that night, and made some jocular remark to an acquaintance on the change of aspect since we had made and
sustained our motion to concur with an amendment, - when
he was assaulted, and was glad to get away quite rapidly. I
am confident I could not have passed quietly through that
side of the House between ten and two o'clock of that night
without being assaulted; and, had I resisted, beaten within
an inch of my life, if not killed outright.  Yet I had proposed
nothing, said nothing, on the exciting topic; I was obnoxious
only because I was presumed earnestly hostile to Slavery.
I believe it was just 7 A. M. of the 4th of March, 1849,the day of General Taylor's inauguration, - when the two
Houses, having finished all the inevitable business of the
session, were adjourned without day, and I walked down to
my hotel, free thenceforth to mind my own business. I have
not since been a member, nor held any post under the Federal
Government; it is not likely that I shall ever again hold one;
yet I look back upon those three months I spent in Congress
as among the most profitably employed of any in the course
of my life.  I saw things from a novel point of view; and, if
I came away from the Capitol no wiser than I went thither,
the fault was entirely my own.
233 
XXVIII.
GLAMOTUR.
BELIEVE I heard vaguely of what were called "The
Rochester Knockings" soon after they were first proclaimed, or testified to, in the Spring of 1848; but they did
not attract my attention till, during a brief absence from New
York,  -- perhaps while in Congress,- I perused a connected,
circumstantial account of the alleged phenomena, signed by
several prominent citizens of Rochester, and communicated
by them to The Tribune, wherein I read it. It made little
impression on my mind, though I never had that repugnance
to, or stubborn incredulity regarding, occurrences called supernatural which is evinced by many. My consciousness of
ignorance of the extent or. limitations of the natural is so vivid,
that I never could realize that difficulty in crediting what are
termed miracles, which many affirm. Doubtless, the first person who observed the attraction of iron by the magnet supposed he had stumbled upon a contradiction to, or violation
of, the laws of nature, when he had merely enlarged his own
acquaintance with natural phenomena. The fly that sees a
rock lifted from its bed may fancy himself witness of a miracle, when what he sees is merely the interposition of a power,
the action of a force, which transcends his narrow conceptions,
his ephemeral experience. I know so very little of nature,
that I cannot determine at a glance what is or is not supernatural; but I know that things do occur which are decidedly
superusual, and I rest in the fact without being able, or feeling
required, to explain it.
I believe that it was early in 1850 that the Fox family, in 
GLAMOUR.
which the so-called Knockings had first occurred or been
noted, - first at the little hamlet known as Hydesville, near
Newark, Wayne Co., N.Y.,- came to New York, and stopped
at a hotel, where I called upon them, and heard the so-called
"raps," but was neither edified nor enlightened thereby.
Nothing transpired beyond the "rappings"; which, even if
deemed inexplicable, did not much interest me. In fact, I
should have regretted that any of Any departed ones had been
impelled to address me in the presence and hearing of the
motley throng of strangers gathered around the table on which
the "raps" were generally made.
I had no desire for a second " sitting," and might never have
had one; but my wife- then specially and deeply interested
in all that pertains to the unseen world, because of the recent
loss of our darling "Pickie"- visited the Foxes twice or
thrice at their hotel, and invited them thence to spend some
week or so with her at our house. There, along with much
that seemed trivial, unsatisfactory, and unlike what might
naturally be expected from the land of souls, I received some
responses to my questions of a very remarkable character,
evincing knowledge of occurrences of which no one, not an
inmate of our family in former years, could well have been
cognizant. Most of these could have no significance or cogenicy to strangers; but one of them seems worth narrating.
It was the second or third day after the Foxes came to our
house.  I had worked very hard and late at the office the
night before, reaching home after all others were in bed; so I
did not rise till all hlad had breakfast and had gone out, my wife
included. When I rose at last, I took a book, and, reading
on a lounge in our front parlor, soon fell into an imperfect
doze, during which there called a Mrs. Freeman, termed a
clairvoyant, from Boston, with her husband and an invalid
gentleman.   They had together visited Niagara Falls, had
seen the Foxes at Rochester on their way; and now, returning, had sought them at their hotel, and followed them thence
to our house. As they did not inquire for me, being unaware
of, as well as indifferent to, my presence in the house, they
235
I 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
were shown into the back parlor, separated by sliding-doors
from that in which I was, and they there awaited the return
of the Foxes, which occurred in about half an hour.  The
sliding-doors being imperfectly closed, I drowsily heard the
strangers urge the Foxes to accompany them to their hotel;
saying, "We feel like intruders here." This impelled me to
rise and go into the back parlor, in order to make the stran gers welcome. Mrs. Freeman had been already, or was soon
afterward, magnetized by her husband into the state termned
clairvoyance, wherein she professed to see spirits related to
those who were put into magnetic rapport with her. What
she reported as of or from those spirits might be ever so true
or false for aught I know.  At length- merely to make the
strangers feel more at their ease- I said, "Mr. Freeman, may
not I be put into communication with spirits through Mrs.
Freeman?" to which he readily assented, placed my hand in
hers, made a few passes, and bade me ask such questions as I
would. As she had just reported the presence of spirit brothers and sisters of others, I asked, "Mrs. Freeman, do you see
any brothers or sisters of mine in the spirit world?"  She
gazed a minute intently, then responded, "Yes, there is one;
his name is Horace," and then proceeded to describe a child
quite circumstantially. I made no remark vhen she had concluded, though it seemed to me a very wild guess, even had
she known that I had barely one departed brother, that his
name was identical with my own, though such was the fact.
I resumed, "Mrs. Freeman, do you see any more brothers or
sisters of mine in the spirit world?"  She looked again as
before; then eagerly said, "Yes, there is another; her name
is Anna - no - her name is Almira-'no (perplexedly), I
cannot get the name exactly, - yet it begins with A."   Now
the only sister I ever lost was named Arminda, and she, as
well as my brother, died before I was born, - he being three,
and she scarcely two, years old.  They were buried in a secluded rural graveyard in Bedford, N. H., about sixty years
ago, and no stone marks their resting-place. Even my wife
did not know their names, and certainly'no one else present
236 
GLAMOUR.
but myself did. And, if Mrs. Freeman obtained one of these
names from my mind (as one theory affirms) why not the other
as well? since each was there as clearly as the other.
Not long after this, I had called on Mademoiselle Jenny Lind,
then a new-comer among us, and was conversing about the
current marvel with the late N. P. Willis, while Mademoiselle
Lind was devoting herself more especially to some other callers. Our conversation caught Mademoiselle Lind's ear, and
arrested her attention; so, after making some inquiries, she
asked if she could witness the so-called "Manifestations."
I answered that she could do so by coming to my house in
the heart of the city, as Katy Fox was then staying with us.
She assented, and a time was fixed for her call; at which
time she appeared, with a considerable retinue of total strangers.  All were soon seated around a table, and the "rappings"
were soon audible and abundant. "Take your hands from
under the table!" Mademoiselle Jenny called across to me
in the tone and manner of an indifferently bold archduchess.
"What a" I asked, not distinctly,omprehending her.  "Take
your hands from under the te.ohe!" she imperiously repeated;
and I now understood tha:t she suspected me of causing, by
some legerdemain, the puzzling concussions.   I instantly
clasped my hands over my head, and there kept them until
the sitting closed, as it did very soon.  I need hardly add
that this made not'the smallest difference with the "rappings"; but I was thoroughly and finally cured of any desire
to exhibit or commend them to strangers.
Not long afterward, I witnessed what I strongly suspected
to be a juggle or trick on the part of a "medium," which gave
me a disrelish for the whole business, and I have seen very
little of it since.  I never saw a "spirit hand," though persons
in whose veracity I have full confidence assure me that they
have done so. (I do not say that they were or were not deluded or mistaken.) But I have sat with three others around
a small table, with every one of our eight hands lying plainly,
palpably, on that table, and heard rapid writing with a pencil
on paper, which, perfectly white, we had just previously
237 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
placed under that table; and have, the next minute, picked
up that paper with a sensible, straightforward message of
twenty to fifty words fairly written'thereon. I do not say by
whom, or by what, said message was written; yet I am quite
confident that none of the persons present, who were visible
to mortal eyes, wrote it.
And here let me deal with the hypothesis of jugglery, kneejoint rattling, toe-cracking, &c. I have no doubt that pretended "mediums" have often amazed their visitors by feats
of jugglery,- indeed, I am confident that I have been present when they did so. In so far as the hypothesis of spirit
agency rests on the integrity of the "mediums," I cannot
deem it established.  Most of them are persons of no especial
moral elevation; and I know that more than one of themi has
endeavored to simulate "raps" when the genuine could not be
evoked.   Let us assume, then, that the "raps" prove just
nothing at all beyond the bare fact that sounds have often
been produced by some agency or impulse which we do not
fully understand, and that all the physical phenomena have
been, or may be, simulated or paralleled by such jugglers as
HIoudin, Blitz, the Fakir of Ava, &c. But the amazing sleight
of hand of these accomplished performers is the result of protracted, laborious training, by predecessors nearly or quite as
adroit and dexterous as themselves; while the "mediums" are
often children of tenderyears, who had no such training, have
no special dexterity, and some of whom are known to be
awkward and clumsy in their movements.  The ju,gglery hypothesis utterly fails to account for occurrences which I have
personally witnessed, to say nothing of others.
Nor can I unreservedly accept the hypothesis which ascribes the so-called "spiritual" phenomena to a demoniac
origin. That mig,ht account satisfactorily for some of them,
but not for all. For instance: In the township of Wayne,
Erie Co., Pa., near the house of my father and brother, there
lived, twelve or fifteen years ago, a farmer well known to me,
named King, who had many good traits, and one bad habit,
that of keeping a barrel of whiskey in his house, and dealing
238 
GLAMOUR.
out the villanous fluid at so much per quart or pint to his
thirsty neighbors.  Having, recently lost a beloved daughter,
he had recourse to "spiritualism," (abominable term!) and
received many messages from what purported to be his lost
child, - one or more of which insisted that the aforesaid
whiskey-barrel must be expelled from his premises, and never
reinstated.  So said, so done, greatly to the benefit of the
neighborhood.   Nowv, I feel confident that the Devil never
sent nor dictated that message; for, if he did, his character
has been grossly belied, and his biography ought to be rewritten.
The failures of the "mediums" were more convincing to
my mind than their successes. A juggler can do nearly as
well at one time as another; but I have known the most emninent "mediums" spend a long, evening in trying to evoke the
"spiritual phenomena," without a gleam of success. I have
known this to occur when they were particularly anxious
and for obviously good reasons - to astound and convince
those wllo were present and expectant; yet not even  the
faintest "rap" could they scare up.  Had they been jugglers,
they could not have failed so utterly, ignominiously.
But, while the sterile "sittings "contributed quite as much
as the other sort to convince me that the "rappings" were
not all imposture and fraud, they served decidedly to disincline me to devote my time to what is called "investigation."
To sit for two dreary, mortal hours in a darkened room, in a
mixed company, waiting for some one's disembodied grandfather or aunt to tip a table or rap on a door, is dull music at
best; but so to sit in vain is disgusting.
I close with a few general deductions from all I have seen
or known of "spirit-rapping."
I. Those who discharge promptly and faithfully all their
duties to those who "still live" in the flesh can have little
time for poking and peering into the life beyond the grave.
Better attend to each world in its proper order.
II. Those who claim, through the "mediums," to be Shakespeare, Milton, Byron, &c., and try to prove it by  writing
239 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
poetry, invariably come to grief. I cannot recall a line of
"spiritual" poetry that is not weak, if not execrable, save that
of Rev. Thomas L. Harris, who is a poet still in the flesh.
After he dies, I predict that the poetry sent us as his will be
much worse than he ever wrote while in the body. Even
Tupper, appalling as is the prospect, will be dribbling worse
rhymes upon us after death than even he perpetrated while on
earth.
III. As a general rule, the so-called "spiritual communications" are vague, unreal, shadowy, trivial.  They  are not
what we should expect our departed friends to say to us. I
never could feel that the lost relative or friend who professed
to be addressing me was actually present. I do not doubt
that foolish, trifling people remain so (measurably) after they
have passed the dark river; I perceive that trivial questions
must necessarily invite trivial answers; but, after making all
due allowance, I insist that the "spiritual" literature of the
day, in so far as it purports to consist of communications or
revelations from the future life, is more inane and trashy
than it could be if the sages and heroes, the saints and poets,
of by-gone days were really speaking to us through these pretended revelations.
IV. Not only is it true (as we should in any case presume)
that nearly all attempts of the so-called "mediums" to guide
speculators as to events yet future have proved melancholy
failures, but it is demonstrated that the so-called "spirits"
are often ignorant of events which have already transpired.
They did not help fish up the broken Atlantic Cable, nor find
Sir John Franklin, nor dispel the mystery which still shrouds
the fate of the crew and passengers of the doomed steamship
President,- and so of a thousand instances wherein their
presumed knowledge might have been of use to us darkly
seeing mortals. All that we have learned of them has added
little or nothing to our knowledge, unless it be in enabling
us to answer with more confidence that old, momentous question, "If a man die, shall he live again?"
V. On the whole (though I say it with regret) it seems to
240 
GLAMOUR.
me that the great body of the "Spiritualists" have not been
rendered better men and women - better husbands, wives,
parents, children - by their new faith. I think some have
been improved by it,- while many who were previously
good are good still, and some have morally deteriorated. I
judge that laxer notions respecting Marriage, Divorce, Chastity, and stern Morality generally, have advanced in the wake
of" Spiritualism."  And, while I am fully aware that religious
mania so-called has usually a purely material origin, so that
revivals have often been charged with making persons insane
whose insanity took its hue from the topic of the hour, but
owed its existence to purely physical causes, I still judge that
the aggregate of both Insanity and Suicide has been increased
by "Spiritualism."
VI. I do not know that these "communications" made
through "mediums" proceed from those who are said to be
their authors, nor from the spirits of the departed at all. Certain developments strongly indicate that they do; others, that
they do not.  We know that they say they do, which is evidence so far as it goes, and is not directly contradicted or rebutted.  That some of them are the result of juggle, collusion,
or trick, I am confident; that others are not, I decidedly believe. The only certain conclusion in the premises to which
my mind has been led is forcibly set forth by Shakespeare
in the words of the Danish prinoe:         "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
VII. I find my "spiritual" friends nowise less bigoted, less
intolerant, than the devotees at other shrines. They do not
allow me to see through my own eyes, but insist that I shall
see through theirs. If my conclusion from certain data differs
from theirs, they will not allow my stupidity to account for
our difference, but insist on attributing it to hypocrisy, or some
other form of rascality. I cannot reconcile this harsh judgment with their professions of liberality, their talk of philosophy.  But, if I speak at all, I must report.what I see and
hear.
16
241 
XXIX.
LAKE SUPERIOR.- MINING. - CHICAGO. - THE PRAIRIES.
A BOUT the year 1836, when the Territory of Michigan was
crystallizing into a State, there arose a dispute between
her and Ohio concerning a small but important corner, which
included the then village- now city - of Toledo. Military
- or rather militia - demonstrations were made on both
sides, wherein much whiskey was consumed, but no blood
shed; and at length the vastly preponderant weight of Ohio
in the national councils prevailed, and insured her the peacef'il possession of the contested corner; while Michigan was
indifferently consoled by the preposterous addition to her natural area of a vast, wild region lying north and northwest of
Lake Michigan, since known as her "Upper Peninsula."  This
region, when it came to be surveyed and mapped for settlement, proved rich in superficial indications of mineral wealth,
mainly Copper and Iron; and a small crowd of adventurers
rushed thither in quest of suddenly acquired riches, in the
Summer or Fall of 1844. The early closing df navigation on
Lake Superior and the St. Mary's River compelled a part of
these to remain on Keewenaw Point throughout the ensuing
Winter; and, being without'advices from elsewhere later than
the preceding August or September, the Whig portion of this
crowd celebrated, on the 4th of March, 1845, Mr. Clay's presumed inauguration as President, - an inauguration which,
unhappily, failed to come off, as they sanguinely believed it
would do,- nay, did,- because it should have done.  WThen
Spring opened, several of them came down, bringing wondrous accounts of the riches of the Superior region in copper 
LAKE SUPERIOR. - MINING.
and silver, if not also in gold, and organized in our city several
companies for the development of the wealth thus laid open
to human appropriation. An old backwoodsman, named
Bailey, who had heard my name, - possibly, read my paper,
- had set apart for me some stock. in a projected company,
to be located on a copper-vein or outcrop of his discovery;
requesting me to act in his behalf as a trustee or director of
said company; to which I, in my yet complete ignorance of
mining, acceded. For some three years thereafter, I acted
accordingly; coaxing several assessments from unwilling stockholders (who, in their primeval innocence, had expected to
receive dividends from their stock instead of paying assessments thereon), and applying the proceeds, as well as I could,
to the opening of our mine. At length, in the Spring of 1847,
I made a business visit to our property, - taking along the
gold required to pay off our workmen, and buying at Detroit
a yoke of oxen, a supply of hay and grain, a good stock of
provisions, &c., &c., and taking them with me to their and my
destination.
I had never before been farther in that direction than Detroit; and this journey considerably enlarged my acquaintance with the northwest. Lake Huron was shrouded in fog
and mist, and our steamboat traversed its entire length slowly
and cautiously; thence feeling our way up the St. lVMary's
only by daylight,- the channel being too shallow, rocky, and
intricate for navigation by night. At the Sault Ste. Marie
we found a small but smart young village, to whose assembled inhabitants two of us made temperance addresses, which
I think some of them needed; and, when our goods had been
wagoned across the portage, we took the only old propeller
which had, as yet, been got across and launched on Lake
Superior, and started up the lake: but it soon came on to
blow a fair, fresh breeze, which was too much for our rickety
craft; and her captain (very properly) ran her behind Point
Keewenaw, and lay there some thirty hours, while we passengers traversed the coast for a mile or so, picking agates
and other fancied, curious bits of fragmentary rock from the
243 
RECOLLECTI.-.S OF A BUSY LIFE.
enormous quantity of pebbles which filled, almost to the exclusion of sand, the narrow strip of debatable ground between
land and water. Next day - the wind having lulled - we
rounded the Point, and ran down its longer (northwest) coast
to Eagle Harbor; where, in default of piers, my oxen had to
be pushed off the steamboat into the ice-cold water, and compelled to swim ashore; my goods being taken off in a small
boat. That was the 15th of June; and the shallow water of
the harbor was frozen over next morning for some distance
from shore. There were possibly two hundred acres in all
then cleared of timber on Keewenaw Point, a dozen of them
adjoining this harbor, which, but for that clearing and the
two taverns located thereon, remained very much as when
Indians alone possessed or approached it. During the bright,
warm day that followed that night's hard frost I made my
way through the dense woods, unbroken save by our rough
road, to our location, some six miles east of the harbor, and
six hundred feet above it, where I paid off our men, and next
day made, with others, an excursion of ten or twelve miles to
the Bohemian and other kindred locations across the Point on
Bay de Gris, and back again to. our place in the afternoon,
a pedestrian journey of hardly more than twenty miles in all;
yet across such a succession of brooks, bogs, and other impediments, that I - unused these sixteen years to walking more
than an hour per day - was utterly fagged out, and fell my
full length repeatedly in the course of the last two miles.
Thence I visited, in the course of the next three or four days,
the locations farther down the point, then known as Copper
Falls, Pittsburg and Boston (Cliff), National, Forsyth, &c.,
encountering - especially around Sand Bay - denser and
more ferocious clouds of mosquitoes and gnats than ever before
or since presented me their bills, and insisted on immediate
satisfaction. I remember an instance in which several of us
fled half a mile from their haunts to a hut, which we filled
with a thick and pungent smoke, with very little abatement
of their numbers or their appetite.
The Point was not, in those days, calculated to attract a
244 
LAKE SUPERIOR.- MINING.
Sybarite, nor even a gourmand; yet its white-fish and lake
trout relieved admirably the more usual and quite substantial
fare of pork, bread, beans, and potatoes; there were speckled
trout in its multitudinous brooks for those who had time to
catch them; while the prevailing forest of yellow pine, maple,
beech, &c., covered a soil generally well adapted to potatoes,
turnips, grass, &c., though not to the grains most acceptable
for human food.  Winter wheat or rye was generally smothered by the snows, which began to fall early in November, and
kept coming till the aggregate fall often exceeded thirty
feet, -the whole being settled meantime to a medium depth
of six to seven feet. Sometimes, they said, a chopper, who
fell from the trunk he was cutting in two, seemed in danger
of disappearing, and being smothered in earth's fleecy vesture.
Indian corn could rarely be matured: the nights, even in
midsummer, being so sharp that seldom did a mosquito venture to pursue his human (or other) prey much after sunset.
No copper of any account had yet been obtained from any
but the Pittsburg or Cliff mine, nor was any of consequence
shipped from the Point, save as aforesaid, while I was interested there.  Shareholders, who had raised their $ 10,000 to
$50,000 in fond expectation of early returns, found in time
that every cent, and generally more, had been expended in
constructing a rude pier whereon to land their supplies,
cutting a road thence to their location, building a few rude
shanties, drawing up their tools, powder, edibles, &c., and
beginning to scratch the earth; another, and still another
assessment being required,- not to secure returns, but to sink
a shaft on the vein far enough to determine that they had any
ore or metal to mine. By this time, their patience, or their
faith, or their means, had generally failed, and they were ready
to sell out for a song, or abandon the enterprise in despair
and disgust. Such is, in essence, the history of most mining
enterprises on Lake Superior; and I suspect it is not essentially difierent elsewhere.  I presume there were not in 1859
so many deserted habitations throughout all the rest of our
country as in California and the adjacent mining districts; and
245
v 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
some of these were quite decent houses.  All I ever realized
by mining was a conviction that digging Gold, or Silver, or
Copper, or Iron, or - best of all- Coal, is a fair business for
those who bring to and invest in it the requisite capacity,
knowledge, capital, experience, perseverance, and good luck,
and that the rarely encountered "big strikes" are as one to a
million.  As  a rule, there are many easier ways of gaining
gold than digging it from the earth; yet let all dig who will.
The possibility of large and sudden gains gives to the business
that element of chance or gaming which so fascinates, the
average mind; yet, if all the gold-diggers on earth were to
work faithfully throughout next year, and exchange their
products respectively for wheat, I doubt that their recompense
would average a peck each per day. And what is true of gold
is nearly or quite so of copper, and of most other minerals as
well.
I may here say that I made another journey to Lake Superior on the same errand the next year (1848), but considerably
later in the season, or at the close of August, when encouraging progress had been made since my previous visit.  I now
tested an assertion which I had repeatedly heard, but never
believed, - that, except in certain shallow bays, and even
there only after a succession of hot, still days,- the water of
that lake is too cold to bathe in. Going alone to the headland
west of Eagle Harbor, on a bright Summer noon, when a fresh
northern breeze was rolling in a very fair surf, I stripped and
plunged in; but was driven out as by a legion of infuriated
hornets. The water was too cold to be endured; and I never
thereafter doubted the current assertion, that a hot day was
never known on that Lake at a distance of a mile or more
from land.
On this second visit, I waited and watched a day at themouth of Eagle River, while our propeller made a gallant fight
for (lear life against a very moderate gale.  She had failed to
get in; if, indeed, it were safe to do so,-did not dare to go
out boldly, if she could, -but, with both anchors down and
full steam up, lay head to the wind, and did her best to hold
246 
CHICAGO.-THE PRAIRIES.
her ground and resist being drifted on the rugged rocks at
length barely two or three hundred yards astern.  She dragged
her anchors steadily, in spite of her best efforts, but slowly;
so that we, expectant passengers ashore, took observations on
her from hour to hour, and predicted that she would or would
not ride out the gale. She did it handsomely, however; and,
the next morning, her boat took us off, shipping a sea midway
back to her that thoroughly drenched and nearly swamped us.
Once on board, she weighed anchor and put out; and, in a
few hours, I had looked my last (as yet) on the bold shores
of the Father of Lakes, which stand forth green and fair in
my memory evermore.
My earlier trip to the upper Lakes was concluded by a
visit, per steamboat, via Mackinac, Sheboygan, and Milwaukee,
to Chicago, then a smart and growing village, where some
thousands of us gathered from the East and from the West
in a grand River and Harbor Convention, which was organized
on the 4th of July, 1847. Edward Bates, of St. Louis, -who
had been in Congress twenty years before, and is still living,
more than twenty years afterward, - was President of that
Convention, and made from the chair a magnificent speech
on our country's progress, genius, and destiny. Other able
and good men were there, and many good speeches were made;
but Mr. Bates's alone commanded general admiration. I presume that the cause of Internal Improvement, with the subsequent growth of Chicago, received a considerable impetus
from that Convention.
When it had closed its deliberations, Mr. John Y. Scammon,
then a rising young lawyer, since an eminent banker of Chicago, took his carriage and pair, and drove with me for three
days over the prairies west of that city; crossing Fox River,
at Geneva, proceeding to what is now Sycamore, and returning
by Elgin to the City of the Lakes. I had, eight years earlier,
traversed eastern Michigan, and there made the acquaintance
of what were called "wet prairies," by which I had not been
fascinated. But the prairies of Illinois are of another order;
and, though by no means that dead, unbroken level which
247 
RECOLLECTIONVS OF A BUSY LIFE.
many suppose them, but cut up by brook-beds, sloughs, and
roads, which were merely wagon-tracks in a deep, black soil,
wore a generally delightful aspect. Forests were less frequent
than seemed desirable; but "openings," or scattered trees,
were never out of sight; and the small and scanty settlements
were usually surrounded by promising fields of wheat and
Indian corn. I presume we did not see one human habitation
where a traveller over our route would now see fifty; while
the average value or cost of the rude cabins we passed would
hardly exceed $ 200, where that of the present houses would
reach at least $ 2,000. Teamsters conveying grain to Chicago,
or returning with lumber, we frequently met; yet inns were
decidedly scarce; since few teamsters could afford to pay
money for food or shelter, while the great mass stopped for rest
or meals under almost any tree, turned out their horses to
graze, or fed them from their wagons, while they ate of the
substantial, wholesome food they had brought from home. I
was told that a load of wheat taken sixty miles to Chicag,o in
those days just about paid for a return load of fence-boards,
leaving the' farmer who made the exchange little or nothing
wherewith to pay tavern-bills.  Few of the early pioneers of
Illinois took thither more than a fair wagon-load of worldly
gear and $100 in money; many lacked the $100, and had
but half a load of household stuff in the wagon, the other
half being composed of wife and children; yet all found somehow enough to eat, and did not suffer intolerably from cold:
and now those children enjoy comforts and may revel in luxuries which their parents scarcely aspired to. Do they realize
and fitly honor the self-forgetting courage and devotion to
which they are so deeply indebted?
Milwaukee was then a smart but struggling country village,
consisting of some three to four hundred new houses clustered about a steaminboat-landiing at the mouth of a shallow,
crooked creek. Wisconsin had then less than One Hundred
Thousand inhabitants, which the twenty subsequent years
248 
CHI CA GO. -THE PRAIRIES.
have increased to nearly or quite One Million. Sheboygan
was then relatively of far greater consequence and promise
than now; but, going back thence a dozen miles inland to
visit my father's brother, Leonard, I was traversing the wil derness within two miles from the steamboat-landing, and I
travelled under the shade of the primitive forest through most
of the succeeding ten miles. But the soil was generally good,
and the timber excellent, being largely composed of Hickory,
Elmn, and other valuable trees; while the clearings, thol,ugh
new and small, were fll of promise, not only in their thickset, velvet grass, and their springing grain, but in their wealth
of rugged, active, coarsely clad, but intelligent, vigorous children.  Wisconsin has scarcely been. surpassed by any State
in her subsequent growth in population, production, and
wealth; and I predict that the close of this century will see
her the home of Three Millions of people as energetic, industrious, worthy, and happy, as any on earth.'
At that time, no mile of railroad terminated in Chicago,
and barely one line (the Michigan Central) pointed directly
at that young city. Even this one proposed to stop at Newv
Buffalo (mouth of St. Joseph's River), its passengers reaching
thence its present proper terminus by steamboat in Summer,
and by stage-coach in Winter.   Of course, they soon saw
reason to change their plans; and New  Buffalo, deserted,
became one of our many American victims of bli,ghted hopes.
Yet, after years of desolation, her denizens have discovered
that their district is admirably adapted to peach-culture; the
cold, northwest winds of later Autumn and Winter reaching
them softened by passing over the adjacent lake, and so leaving her fruit-buds unblighted by their shlrivelling breath.
Landing here from Chicago, I took stage to Kalamnazoo, or
thereabout, where we met a just-completed section of the
Michigran Central, on which I was brought to Detroit, and
thlence came homeward by steamboat to Buffalo, railroad to
Albany, and steamboat to this city.
249 
xxx.
IlTE GREAT SENATORS. - THIE COMPROMISE OF 1850.
UPR great triumvirate - Clay, Webster, Calhoun -  last
appeared  together in public life in the Senate of
1849 - 50: the two former figuring conspicuously in the debates which preluded and resulted in what was termed the
Compromise of that year, - Mr. Calhoun dying as they had
fairly opened, and Messrs. Clay and Webster not long after
their close. This chapter is, therefore, in some sort, my humble tribute to their genius and their just renown.
, I best knew and loved Henry Clay: he was by nature
genial, cordial, courteous, gracious, magnetic, winning. When
General Glascock, of Georgia, took his seat in Cong,ress as a
Representative, a mutual friend asked, "General, may I introduce you to Henry Clay?"  "No, sir!" was thie stern response; "I am  his adversary, and choose not to subject myself to his fascination." I think it would have been hard to
constitute for three or four years a legislative body whereof
M1r. Clay was a member, and not more than four sevenths
were his pledged,, implacable opponents, whereof he would
not have been the master-spirit, and the author and inspirer
of most of its measures, after the first or second year.
Mr. Webster was colder, graver, sterner, in his general bearing; though he could unbend and be sunny and blithe in his
intercourse with those admitted to his intimacy. There were
few gayer or more.valued associates on a fishing or sailing
party. His mental calibre was much the larger; I judge
that he had read and studied more; though neither could boast
much erudition, nor even intense application. I believe each 
THE GREAT SENATORS.
was about thirty years in Congress, where Mr. Clay identified
his name with the origin or success of at least half a dozen
important measures to every one thus blended with Mr. Web ster's. Though Webster's was far the more massive intellect,
Mr. Clay as a legislator evinced far the greater creative, con structive power. I once sat in the Senate Chamber when
Mr. Douglas, who had just been transferred from the House,
rose, to move forward a bill in which he was interested.
"We have no such practice in the Senate, sir," said Mr. Web ster, in his deep, solemn voice, fixing his eye on the mover,
but without rising from his seat. Mr. Douglas at once varied.
his motion, seeking to achieve his end in a somewhat different
way.  "That is not the way we do business in the Senate,
sir," rejoined Mr. Webster, still more decisively and sternly.
"The Little Giant" was a bold, ready man, not easily overawed or disconcerted; but, if he did not quiver under the eye
and voice of Webster, then my eyesight deceived me,-and I
was very near him.
Mr. Calhoun was a tall, spare, earnest, evidently thoughtful
man, with stiff, iron-gray hair, which reminded you of Jackson's about the time of his accession to the Presidency. He
was eminently a logician, - terse, vigorous, relentless. He
courted the society of clever, aspiring young men who inclined
to fall into his views, and exerted great influence over them.
As he had abandoned the political faith which I distinguish
and cherish as National while I was yet a school-boy, I
never met him at all intimately; yet once, while I was connected with mining on Lake Superior, I called on him, as on
other leading members of Congress, to explain the effect of
the absurd policy then in vogue, of keeping mineral lands out
of market, and attempting to collect a percentage of the
mineral as rent accruing to the Government.   He received
me  courteously, and I took care to make my statement as
compact and perspicuous as I could, showing him that, even
in the Lead region, where the system had attained its full
development, the Treasury did not receive enough rent to
pay the salaries of the officers employed in collecting it.
251
0 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
"Enough," said Mr. Calhoun; "you are clearly right.  I will
vote to give away these lands, rather than perpetuate this
vicious system." "We only ask, Mr. Calhoun," I rejoined,
"that Congress fix on the lands whatever price it may deem
just, and sell them at that price to those lawfully in possession; they failing to purchase, then to whomsoever will buy
them." "That plan will have my hearty support," he responded; and it did. When the question came at length to
be taken, I believe there was no vote in either House against
selling the mineral lands.
Mr. Clay had failed to be chosen President in 1844, in part
because he tried to reconcile to his support those whose views
on the Texas question conflicted with his. General Taylor,
on the other hand, had succeeded in 1848, while saying very
little as to the pending questions affecting Slavery, or even
seeming to care that adverse opinions should be conciliated.
There was an anecdote current in the canvass to this effect:
A planter wrote Old Zack, saying, "I have worked hard all
my life, and the net product is a plantation with one hundred
negroes, - slaves. Before I vote, I want to know how you
stand on the Slavery question."   The General at once responded: "Sir, I too have worked faithfully these many years,
and the net product remaining to me is a plantation with tlree
hundred negroes. Yours truly." The planter was satisfied.
The National Convention which nominated General Taylor
had laid on the table a resolve approving, if not demanding
the exclusion of Slavery from the Territories; and this probably lost us the votes of Ohio, Illinois, Wisconsin, and Iowa.
On the other hand, Alabama, Mississippi and Arkansas all
voted, by small majorities, for Cass: Jefferson Davis, though
a son-in-law of General Taylor, declining, on political or
Slavery grounds, to support him. Had he been clearly understood to be for or against the so-called Wilmot Proviso, he
would have both gained and lost votes; but I judge that,
with reference to success, his silence was wisdom.
252
0 
THE GREAT SENATORS.
Being elected and inaugurated, he called to his cabinet
Messrs.      Clayton of Delaware, Crittenden of Kentucky, Ewing
of Ohio, Meredith of Pennsylvania, G. W. Crawford iof Georgia,  B   allard Preston of Virginia, Collamer of Vermont, and
RPeverdy Johnson of Maryland, and proceeded to deal cautiously with the grave questions impending. It was soon
evident to keen-sighted observers, that the new Administration
aimed to tide over the breakers just ahead by securing the
newly  acquired Territories practically to free labor, through
a qu    iet discouragement of the transfer of slaves thereto, and
the speedy transformation of each Territory into a State.
Dissension and division on the WVilmot Proviso were thus to
be               avoided by achieving expeditiously the en,d whereto that
Proviso was but a means. Thus, California was rapidly metamorphosed into a free State even before she had been provided with a regular Territorial organization; whiile yet the
Administration could fairly protest with Macbeth.,
"Thou canst not say I did it! Never shake
Those gory locks at me!"
The pro-Slavery interest soon felt that it was being undermrnined and circumvented.  In the elections for Congress, next
after General Taylor's inauguration, the South, which had
given him both a popular and an electoral majority, chose
but twenty-nine RPepresentatives to support, with sixty-two
to oppose, his Administration.
At the North, the new Administration was likewise distrusted by the more zealous champions of Free Soil, though
with less reason. In the election of 1849, the Democrats of
Vermont united with the Abolitionists in framing and supporting a common State ticket, on an unequivocally Free-Soil
platform, with.the watchword, "Free Democracy"; and, as
the coalescing parties had outnumbered the Whigs in the
preceding vote for President, the prospect looked squally. I
was invited by the Whigs to canvass their State, and did so;
beginning at Brattleborough. in the southeast, passing up to
Montpelier and across to Burlington, thence down by Rutland
to Bennington. One anecdote of this trip is characteristic of
the times, and will bear reviving:
253 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
As, when previously asked by friends in the State what
they should do for me, I had stipulated for a committee of
thirteen to let me alone, and persuade others to do so, I enjoyed unusual exemption from bother, and, after speaking one
rainy afternoon at some town ill Orange County (Royalton, as
I recollect), I took the cars, and was soon borne to Montpelier,
where I was to speak the next day. The rain poured heavily,
and I made my way solus from the railway station to a hotel,
where I obtained a room, and sat down in it'to my solitary
reflections. I must here explain that two brothers, Vermonters, named respectively Charles G. and E. G. Eastman,
then edited the Democratic State organs at Montpelier and
at Nashville respectively. The Vermont Eastman, being in
league with the Abolitionists, labored day by day to prove
that the Taylor Administration was managing to secure the
new Territories to Slavery; while the Tennessee Eastman,
seeking capital for his party on the other tack, as strenuously
insisted that that same Administration was doing its utmost
to exclude Slavery from those same Territories.  As The Tribune exchanged with both these candid journalists, I had
recently taken a leading article from each, cut it into paragraphs, copied first from one charging the Administration as
aforesaid, and then, simply premising, "Now we will hear
what t'other Eastman has to say on this point," I would
quote the exact opposite from the Tennessee or the Vermont
brother, as the case might be. So, having seated myself in
my room in the hotel at Montpelier, which. I had never
before been near, and where I knew no one, I looked drearily out at the furious rain for half an hour, and was about
falling asleep in utter desperation, when my door opened,
and a tall, sturdy mountaineer, unannounced, walked in.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Greeley," was his cordial salutation.
"Good afternoon," I less cordially responded; "though I do
not happen to know you."  "Not know me?" he incredulously asked: "why, I am t' other Eastman."
When Congress met in December following, and Howell
254 
THE COMPROMIISE OF' 1850.
Cobb, [Dem.] of Georg,ia, had, after a long struggle, been
chosen Speaker,* because the distinctively Free-Soil members
would not support Winthrop, the Whig candidate, General
Taylor, in his Annual Message (already published during the
long struggle for Speaker), avowed that he desired and expected the early admission of both California and New Mexico as States, under such constitutions as their people should
see fit to frame, - which constitutions, it was already notorious, would forbid Slavery.
Mr. Clay soon submitted t to the Senate his plan for a comprehensive settlement of all the mooted questions regarding
Slavery. It contemplated: 1. The prompt admission of California as a State, under her anti-Slavery Constitution; 2.
The organization of the remaining Territories, without allusion to Slavery; 3. The limitation of Texas to a defined
Northern boundary, ignoring- or rather buying off - her
claim to nearly all New Mexico; 4. Paying her a sum (afterward fixed at $10,000,000) for consenting to the limitation
aforesaidj 5. No abolition of Slavery in the District of Columbia; 6. Exclusion by law of the traffic in slaves from said
District; 7. A denial of the right of any State to obstruct or
embarrass the traffic in slaves between other States, or their
removal from one to another. As the second of these propositions has an abiding significance, in view of the Nebraska
bill afterward avowedly based thereon, I quote it verbatim:
"2. Resolved, That as Slavery does not exist by law [in,] and is
not likely to be introduced into, any of the territories acquired by
the United States from the republic of Mexico, it is inexpedient
for Congress to provide by law either for its introduction into, or
[its] exclusion from, any part of the said territory, and that appropriate territorial governments ought to be established by Congress
in all the said territories not assigned as within the boundaries of
the proposed State of California, without the adoption of any restriction or condition on the subject of Slavery."
* Under the plurality rule: Cobb, 102; Winthrop, 99; scatteling (mainly
Free-Soil), 20.
t February 13, 1850.
t
255 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
The gist of this proposition, as I apprehend it, is, that
Slavery had not then a legal existence in the newly acquired
Territories. In other words: Mr. Clay (in opposition to Mr.
Calhoun and his followers, who maintained that the Federal
Constitution necessarily became the fundamental law of any
region acquired by the United States, and thus legalized Slavery in that region, and every part of it,) held, with the FreeSoil party, that Slavery must be established by positive law
in any Territory, before it could be legal therein. I felt that
we could afford to accept this as a basis of adjustment, especially when we gained therewith the instant admission of
California as a Free State, and the extrusion of slaveholding
Texas from nearly all New Mexico, whereof she claimed every
acre lying eastward of the Rio Grande del Norte. Mr. Clay's
proffer seemed to me candid and fair to the North, so far as
it related to the newly acquired territories. I do personally
know that Mr. Clay himself regarded it as a capitulation on
the part of the South, wherein she merely stipulated for the
honors of war.  And it was instantly assailed by Senators Jefferson Davis and Henry S. Foote of Mississippi, James M.
Mason of Virginia, William R. King of Alabama, S. U.
Downs of Louisiana, and A. P. Butler of South Carolina, as
proposing to the South a surrender at discretion. They all
repelled the suggestion that Slavery could not legally exist in
a Territory till expressly established there by law, affirming
the opposite or Calhoun doctrine. Mr. Clay met them frankly
and squarely; replying to Mr. Jefferson Davis as follows:
"I am extremely sorry to hear the Senator from Mississippi say
that he requires, first, the extension of the Missouri Compromise
line to the Pacific; and, also, that he is not satisfied with that,
but requires, if I understand him correctly, a positive provision for
the admission of Slavery south of that line. And now, sir, coming
from a Slave State, as I do, I owe it to myself, I owe it to the
truth, I owe it to the subject, to state that no earthly power could
induce me to vote for a specific measure for the introduction of
Slavery where it had not before existed, either south or north of
that line.  Coming, as I do, from a Slave State, it is my solemn,
m
256 
THE COMPROMISE OF 1850.
deliberate, and well-matured determination that no power -no
earthly power- shall compel me to vote for the positive introduction of Slavery, either south or north of that line. Sir, while you
reproach, and justly, too, our British ancestors for the introduction
of this institution upon the continent of America, I am, for one,
unwilling that the posterity of the present inhabitants of California
and New Mexico shall reproach us for doing just what we reproach
Great Britain for doing to us. If the citizens of those Territories
choose to establish Slavery, I am for admitting them with such
provisions in their constitutions; but then it will be their own
work, and not ours; and their posterity will have to reproach
them, and not us, for forming constitutions allowing the institution
of Slavery to exist among them. These are my views, sir, and I
choose to express them; and I care not how extensively and universally they are known. The honorable Senator from Virginia
(Mr. Mason) has expressed his opinion that Slavery exists in these
Territories; and I have no doubt that opinion is sincerely and honestly entertained by him; and I would say, with equal sincerity
and honesty, that I believe that Slavery nowhere exists within any
portion of'the territory acquired by us from Mexico. He holds a
directly contrary opinion to mine, as he has a perfect right to do;
and we will not quarrel about the difference of opinion."
The debate thus inaugurated was prosecuted at great length.
Mr. Webster, in the course of it, startling the country by an
elaborate speech,* wherein he took ground against what were
termed Slavery agitation and agitators; against the asserted
right of legislatures to instruct senators; against legislation
to exclude Slavery from Federal Territories, &c., &c. In so
doing he said:." Now; as to California and New Mexico, I hold Slavery to be
excluded from those Territories by a law even superior to that
which admits and sanctions it in Texas, -  I mean the law of Nature, - of physical geography,- the law of the formation of the
earth.  That law settles forever, with a strength beyond all terms
of human  enactment, that Slavery cannot exist in California or
New Mexico.... I will say further, that, if a resolution or a bill
were before us, to provide a Territorial government for New Mexico,
* March 7, 1850.
17
257 
RECOLLECTIONS OF' A BUSY LIFE.
I would not vote to put any prohibition into it whatever. Such a
prohibition would be idle as it respects anlly effect it would have on
the Territory; and I would not take pains uselessly to reaffirm an
ordinance of Nature, nor to reenact the will of God. I would put
in no Wilmot Proviso for the mere purpose of a taunt or a reproach.
I would put into it no evidence of the votes of a superior power,
exercised for no purpose but to wound the pride of the citizens of
the Southern States."
I cannot here follow the great debate through the weary
months in which the Senators and Representatives of California awaited permission to take the seats to which they had
been'chosen. The compromise or adjustment proposed by
Mr. Clay was assailed from either side,- by zealous antiSlavery men like Hale, Chase, and Seward; by zealous, aggressive pro-Slavery men like Calhoun, Jeff. Davis, Mason,
and Butler, - while it was sustained by the more moderate
members of either great party. A grand committee of thirteen, whereof Mr. Clay was chairman, was raised on the
4ubject, wherefrom the chairman reported * his plan, modified so as to be less objectionable to pro-Slavery men: the
vital assertion that Slavery had then no legal existence in
the new territories being omitted. In the progress of the
debate, further modifications of the plan were made, - all
tending in the same direction; and the sudden death of
General Taylor,t allowing the Presidency to devolve on Mr.
Fillmore, powerfully aided the triumph of the Compromise,
which had, a few days before, seemed all but hopeless. Ultimately, bills admitting California, organizing New Mexico and
Utah as Terrintories, fixing the northern boundary of Texas,
and giving her $10,000,000 for consenting thereto, providing
more effectually for the recovery of fugitive slaves, and prohibiting the bringing of slaves into the Federal district for
sale, were severally passed,-though with very diverse support,
-and became laws of the land: thus, it was fondly, but most
mistakenly, calculated, putting an end to Slavery agitation,
and ushering in a long era of fraternity and domestic peace.
* May 18.                        t July 11.
258 
THE COMPROMISE OF 1850.
Meantime, Mr. Calhoun had died, March 31, 1850, at Washing,ton, where Mr. Clay likewise died, June 29, 1852.  Mr.
Webster survived his great compeer less than four months;
dying at his home in Marshfield, Mass., October 24th of that
year. These three left no statesmen among us who were
their equals in general ability or in power to fix the attention
of the country. We still read speeches in Congress, though
generally quite satisfied with telegraphic summaries of their
contents, but we no longer impatiently await, eagerly enjoy,
and carefully treasure them, as we did those of the great
departed.
The question is often asked, "Were the traditional great
men of the past really greater than their living successors?"
I can only answer that, while I presume the average intellect
of our day is not inferior to that of the last generation, I
judge that the master minds of different periods are attracted
to different spheres of activity, and are impelled to different
stages oft development. Hiad Henry Clay or Daniel Webster
been born and lived fifty years earlier, he could not have
failed to be distinguished and honored by those who knew
him; but he would probably have achieved distinction as a
Revolutionary soldier, or. in some other sphere than that of
legislation.
"Is it not hard," I was once asked by the Governor of an
important Western State, "that my salary should be far less
than that  of a railroad president or chief engineer?"  "I
infer from it," I replied, "that our age realizes more keenly
its need of competent railroad men. than that of capable governors of States." In this, as in many things, the intensity
of the demand creates or regulates the supply. If we now
lack great political.debaters, it is because they are not greatly
required, or because talent is more in demand and better
rewarded in some other field of intellectual exertion.
259
0 
xxx I.
LIBELS AND LIBEL-SUITS.
DITOPRIAL life has many cares, sundry enjoyments,
with certain annoyances; and prominent among these
last are libel-suits. I can hardly remember a time when I
was absolutely exempt from these infestations. In fact, as
they seem to be a main reliance for support of certain attorneys, destitute alike of character and law, I suppose they
must be borne for an indefinite period. The fact that these
suits are far more common in our State than elsewhere cannot
have escaped notice; and I find the reason of that fact in
a perversion of the law by our judges of thirty to fifty
years ago.
The first notable instance of this perversion occurred on the
trial of RPoot v. King, at Delhi, aboyt 1826. General Erastus
Root was a leading Democrat through the earliest third of this
century, and was, in 1824, a zealous supporter of William H.
Crawford for President. As President of the Senate, he presided at the joint meeting of the two Houses, wherein electors
of President were chosen; when, to his and his friends' sore
disappointment, a large number of Adams, and but few Crawford men, received the requisite majority, -the friends of
Adams and those of Clay having privately united on a
common ticket. When the votes for this ticket began to be
counted out, presaging a Crawford defeat, General Root attempted to break up the joint meeting, and thus invalidate
the election. For this, and other such acts, he was severely
handled by The New York American; whose editor, Charles
King, was thereupon sued by Root for libel, and -the case
I 
LIBELS AND LIBEL-SUITS.
being tried at Delhi, where Root resided and was lord-paramount -the jury, under the rulings of a Democratic judge,
gave the plaintiff $1,400 damages. It was a most unjust
verdict, based on a perversion of the law, which, if sustained,
left the press no substantial liberty to rebuke wrong-doing or
chastise offenders. And the perversion of justice thus effected
naturally led to still further and worse aberrations.
Ten or a dozen years afterward, Mr. J. Fenimore Cooper
returned from a long residence abroad, during which many of
his novels had been written.  A man of unquestioned talent,
almost genius, - he was aristocratic in feeling and arrogant in bearing, altogether combining in his manners what a
Yankee once characterized as "winning ways to make people
hate him."  Retiring to his paternal acres near Cooperstown,
N. Y., he was soon involved in a difficulty with the neighboring villagers, who had long been accustomed, in their boating
excursions on the Lake (Otsego), to land and make themselves
at home for an hour or two on a long, narrow promontory or
"point,"'that ran down from his grounds into the lake,- and
whom he had now dissuaded from so doing by legal force.
The Whig newspaper of the village took up the case for the
villagers, urging that their extrusion from "The Point," though
legal, was churlish, and impelled by the spirit of the dog in
the manger; whereupon Cooper sued the editor for libel, recovered a verdict, and collected it by taking the moneythrough a sheriff's officer - from the editor's trunk.  By this
time, several Whig journalists had taken up the cudgels for
the villagers and their brother editor; and, as Mr. Cooper had
recently published two caustic, uncomplimentary, self-complacent works on his countrymen's ways and manners, entitled
"Homeward Bound," and "Home  as Found," some' of these
castigations took the form of reviews of those works. One or
more of them appeared in The Courier and Enquirer, edited
by James Watson Webb; at least one other in The Commercial Advertiser, edited by William L. Stone; while several
racy paragraphs, unflattering to Mr. Cooper, spiced the editorial columns of The Albany Evening Journal, and were doubt
261 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
less from the pen of its founder and then editor, Mr. Thurlow
Weed. Cooper sued them all; bringing several actions to
trial at Fonda, the new county-seat of Montgomery County.
Hie had no luck against Colonel Webb, because, presuming
that gentleman moneyless, he prosecuted him criminally, and
could never find a jury to send an editor to prison on his
account. Colonel Webb was defended in chief by Ambrose
L. Jordan, afterward Attorney-General of the State, an able
and zealous advocate, who threw his whole soul into his cases,
and who did by no means stand on the defensive.
In one of his actions against Mr. Weed, he was more fortunate. Weed had not given it proper attention; and, when
the case was called for trial at Fonda, he was detained at
home by sickness in his family, and no one appeared for him;
so a verdict of $ 400 was entered up against him by default.
He was on hand a few hours afterward, and tried to have the
case reopened, but Cooper would not consent; so Weed had
to pay the $400 and costs.   Deeming himself aggrieved,
he wrote a letter to The Tribune, describing the whole performance; and on that letter Cooper sued me, as for another
libel.
And here let me say, that Weed was forced to pay some
$ 2,500 to Cooper, and as costs in his various suits, most unjustly. Weed was a profound admirer of Cooper's novels,an extravagant one, in my judgment, - and was so fond of
quoting them, that jokers gravely affirmed that he evidently
had never read but three authors, -Shakespeare, Scott, and
Cooper. (At a later day, they were obliged to add Dickens
to the list.) The paragraphs that provoked Cooper's libelsuits were intended by Weed rather to admonish the American novelist that he was acting absurdly, suicidally, in quarrelling with his neighbors, to preclude their landing on "The
Point";  with his countrymen by his harsh, supercilious
criticisms on their manners; and with the Press by his innumerable libel-suits. Not a shred, a spice of malice, nor
even of ill-will, impelled the paragraphs which Cooper resented so litigiously.
262 
LIBELS AND LIBEL-SUITS.
The first writ wherewith I was honored "By the Author
of the'Pioneers,' &c.," cited me to answer at Ballston, Saratoga County, on the first Tuesday (I believe) in December,
1842; and I obeyed it to the letter. I employed no lawyers,
not realizing that I needed any. In its turn, the case was
called, and opened in due form by Richard Cooper (nephew
of Fenimore) for the plaintiff. No witnesses were called, for
none were needed. I admitted the publication, and accepted
the responsibility thereof: so the questions to be tried were
these, "Was the plaintiff libelled by such publication?  If
so, to what amount was he damaged?"  When Richard had
concluded, I said all that I deemed necessary for the defence;
and then Fenimore summed up his own cause in a longer
and rather stronger speech than Richard's, and the case was
closed. So far, I felt quite at my ease; but now the presiding
judge (Willard) rose, and made a harder, more elaborate, and
disingenuous speech against me than either Richard or Fenimore had done; making three against one, which I did not
think quite fair. He absolutely bullied the jury, on the presumption that they were inclined to give a verdict for the
defendant, which he told them they were nowise at liberty
to do. I had never till that day seen one of them, and had
never sought to effect any intimacy or understanding with
them; so I must say that the judge's charge seemed to me
as unfair as possible. The jury retired at its close; and, on
balloting, seven of them voted to make me pay $ 100, two
voted for $ 500, one for $ 1,000, and two for nothing at all,or very nearly so. They soon agreed to call it $200, and
make it their verdict; which they did. When all the costs
were paid, I was just $ 300 out of pocket by that lawsuit.  I
have done better and worse in other cases; but, having been
most ably and successfully defended in several, maugre the
proverb that, " He who pleads his own cause has a fool for a
client," I am satisfied that, could I have found time, in every
case wherein I was sued for libc,. t) attend in person, and
simply, briefly state the material facts to the jury, I should
have had less to pay than I haye done. There is always
263 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
danger that the real merits of your case will be buried out of
sight under heaps of legal rubbish. But it is not possible for
a business man to spend his whole life in court-rooms, waiting
for his case to be called; and I have often been sued in distant counties, where I could scarcely attend at all.
I left Ballston in a sleigh directly upon the rendering of
the verdict, caught a steamboat, I think, at Troy, and was at
my desk in good season next morning; so that, by 11 P. M., I
had written out and read in proof, besides other matter, my
report of the trial, which filled eleven columns of the next
morning's Tribune. I think that was the best single day's
work I ever did. I intended that the report should be goodnatured,- perhaps even humorous, — and some tliought I
succeeded; but Fenimore seems not to have concurred in that
opinion; for he sued me upon the report as a new libel,- or,
rather, as several libels. I was defended against this new
suit by Hions. William H. Seward and A. B. Conger, so cleverly,
that, though there were hearings on demurrer, and various
expensive interlocutory proceedings, the case never came to
trial. Indeed, the Legislature had meantime overborne some
of the more irrational rulings of our judges; while our Judiciary itself had undergone important changes through the
political revolution in our State, and the influence of our Constitution of 1846; so that the Press of New York now enjoys
a freedom which it did not in the last generation.
I say the Press,- yet only the journals of one party were
judicially muzzled. RPather more than forty years ago, Mr.
Weed, then living at Rochester, was positively and generally
charged, through the Democratic journals, with having shaved
off or pulled out the whiskers of a dead man, in order to
make the body pass for that of the long-missing and neverrecovered William Morgan, of anti-Masonic fame. The
charge was an utterly groundless calumny, having barely a
shred of badinage to palliate its utterance.  Mr. Weed sued
two or three of his defamers; but the courts were in the
hands of his political adversaries, and he could never succeed
in bringing his cases to trial.  Finally, after they had been
264 
LIBELS AND LIBEL-SUITS.
kicked and cuffed about for ten or a dozen years, they were
kicked out, as too ancient and fishlike to receive attention.
This was probably the best disposition for him that could
have been made of them. If he had tried them, and recovered nominal verdicts, his enemies would have shouted over
those verdicts as virtually establishing the truth of their
charges; while, if he had been awarded exemplary damages,
these would have been cited as measuring the damages to be
given against him in each of the hundred libel-suits thereafter brought against him. This consideration was forcibly
brought home to me when, years afterward, having been outragceously libelled with regard to a sum of $1,000, which it
was broadly intimated that a'railroad or canal company in
Iowa had given me for services rendered, or to be rendered,-I
ordered suits commenced against two of the most reckless
libellers. But, when time had been allowed for reflection, I
perceived that I could afford neither to lose nor to win these
suits; that such verdicts as I ought to recover would be cited
as measuring the damages that I ought to pay in all future
libel-suits brought against me; so I gladly accepted such retractions as my libellers saw fit to make, and discontinued my
suits.  Henceforth, that man must very badly want to be sued
who provokes me to sue him for libel.
Passing in silence several recent cases of interest wherein
I was chosen defendant, - cases on which I couLld not dilate
without annoyance to persons yet living, - I close with a
statement of points in difference, as I understand them, between sundry judges and certain editors touching the Law
of Libel.
. I have often heard it asserted from the Bench that editors
claim impunity to libel, - which is not the truth. What
I claim and insist on is just this: That the editor shall be
protected by the nature and exigencies of his calling to the
same extent, and in the same degree, that other mren are pro
265 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
tected by the exigencies, the requirements, of THEIR callings or
positions respectively. 
For instance: A judge on the bench, a lawyer at the bar,
may libel atrociously; and I hold may be fairly held responsible for such libel; but the law will not presume him a libeller from the mere fact that he speaks disparagingly of some
person or persons. A householder applied to for the character of his late servant may respond: "I turned him off because I found him an eye-servant, a drunkard, and a thief";
yet the law will presume no malice not specifically proven;
because it avers that, in giving his ex-servant's character,
that householder was acting in the line of his duty. Had
he posted up those precise words in a public place, the law
would have presumed malice, because no duty required such
posting.
Now let us apply the principle above enunciated to the
actual case in hand: Jefferson Jones posts up in a bar-room,
livery-stable, or on the town-pump, these words: "Clifford
Npkes was last night caught stealing a hog, and was committed by Justice Smith, to await indictment and triaL"
The law will presume that posting malicious, and will deal
harshly with Jones if he should fail to prove it literally true.
And why?  Clearly, because no duty required him to make
any such proclamation of his neighbor's alleged frailty,because of the fair, natural presumption, that he was moved
so to post by hate or malevolence. But that same paragraph
might appear in the columns of any journal that habitually
printed police intelligence, without justifying or rendering
plausible a kindred presumption. It might, indeed, be proved
that the editor had inserted the item with malicious intent to
injure Nokes; and then I say: "Punish the libeller to the
extent of the law."  But I protest against presuming  an
editor a libeller, because, in the routine of his vocation, the
line of his duty, he prints information which may prove inaccurate or wholly erroneous, without fairly exposing him to
the presumption that he was impelled to utter it by a malevolent spirit, a purpose to injure or degrade. Am I understood?
266
11 
LIBELS AND LIBEL-SUITS.
Twice, in the course of my thirty-odd years of editorship,
I have encountered human beings base enough to require me
to correct a damaging statement, and, after I had done so to
the extent of their desire, to sue me upon that retracted
statement as a libel! I think this proves more than the
depravity of the persons implicated,  that it indicates a
glaring defect in the law or the ruling ulder which such a
mnanoeuvre is possible. If the law were honest, or merely
decent, it would refuse to be made an accomplice of such
villany.
Ere many years, I hope to see all the reputable journals of
this city, if not of the entire State, unite in an association
for mutual defence against vexatious and unreasonable libelsuits. They ought to do this; employing a capable and
painstaking lawyer, to whom every suit for libel against any
member of the association should at once be referred, with
instructions to investigate it candidly, and decide whether its
defence ought or ought not to devolve on the press generally.
If not, lt it be remitted to the counsel for the journal prosecuted; but, if the prosecution be clearly unreasonable and
vexatious, -  a lawyer's dodge to ley black mail, -  then let
no money or effort be spared to baffle and defeat the nefarious attempt. Such a combination for mutual defence would
arrest the prevailing habit of paying $ 50 or $100 to buy
off the plaintiff's attorney as the cheapest' way out of a
bother, would soon greatly reduce the number of suits for
libel, and would result in a substantial and permanent enlargement of the Freedom  of the Press.   It should have
been formed long ago.
267 
XXXII.'
EUROPE. - THE WORLD'S EXPOSITION.
TiHE year 1851 was signalized by the first grand Exposi     tion of the products of All Nations' Art and Industry.
It was held in Hyde Park, London, once at the extreme west
end of that metropolis, but long since enveloped by her
steady, imperial growth in commerce, wealth, and population.
Prince Albert, the Queen's husband, having been placed at
the head of the enterprise, the Queen did her best to insure its
success; and her influence, exerted to the utmost, extended
far beyond her Court and those who aspire to bask in its beams.
A portion of the Tory Aristocracy stood aloof, or only visited
the Exposition as careless sight-seers; but the PRoyal Family,
the Liberal Aristocracy, the Manufacturing, Commercial,
and more intelligent Laboring classes, were united and enthusiastic in their efforts to secure the success of the grand
undertaking.  I judge that the habitual frigidity of British
bearing toward foreigners was never before so thoroughly put
aside or overcome. "You foreigners," said Earl Granville at
a great dinner given at Richmond to the Foreign Commissioners and Jurors, "complain that we English are icy and
repulsive; but you never give us a fair chance to be otherwise. WVe try to be courteous and hospitable whenever we
are afforded an opportunity. Don't we make heroic, though
luckless, attempts to speak your several languages? Don't
we try in every way to make ourselves agreeable? Give us
a fair trial before you condemn us as exclusive and unsocial."
In this spirit, the great mass of the educated, thrifty classes
treated their many foreign visitors throughout that long 
EUROPE.- THE WORLD'S EXPOSITION.
Summer.' I doubt that the hospitality which is evinced in
entertainments and festivities was ever more widely displayed
anywhere, or with more persistent generosity.
And I doubt that another exhibition, so comprehensive, so
instructive, has since been or ever will be presented, though
several have been, and many doubtless will be, so planned, so
weeded, as to embody only articles of decided merit, as this
did not.  For, as all nations were invited to send samples of
their exportable products to this Exposition, all had done so,
without at all considering the figure these would cut when
compared with the kindred products of other countries. Side
by side with the subtlest and most elaborate devices of British
and American locksmiths to guard the hoards of bankers and
capitalists from spoliation, were the rude contrivances of
Tunisian or Thibetan blacksmiths, clumsily hammered out of
poor iron, on a very rude anvil, and doing no credit to the
workmanship, even after all due allowances had been made.
The striking contrasts thus presented in almost every department ofthe Exposition gave it a piquancy. and zest which are
henceforth unattainable; for the contributors of sorry specimens, having thus been made aware of their own relative
demerits, refuse thenceforth to appear as foils for their brilliant rivals; and any attempt to replace them by samples
gathered from the ends of the earth, on purpose to be derided
and ridiculed, must almost necessarily prove a failure.
Hereafter, we shall find in kindred expositions only the best
products of the cleverest, most ingenious of the world's artificers; while the worse, and even worst, by which their worth
was so admirably set off and illustrated in 1851, will remain
in their coveted oblivion.
The Crystal Palace, wherein the Exhibition was held, was
constructed wholly of iron and glass, and was one of the
noblest, most magnificent, most graceful edifices ever seen.
Its grand avenue, traversing its centre from end to end, was
studded with some of the rarest and costliest articles exhibited, including Powers's statue of " The Greek Slave," the
Queen's matchless "Koh-i-Noor," or Mountain of Light, said
269 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
to be next to the largest diamond in existence, and hundreds
more of the most admirable products of Art and Nature.
Several stately and gracious elms, which were among the
chief ornaments of the Park, grew on the site chosen for the
Palace, and were a chief obstacle to its concession, as this
was supposed to involve their destruction; but the stately
edifice was made to include and cover them, so that they put
forth their ample foliage and stood green and graceful throughout the Exhibition under its transparent roof, each of them
"a thing of beauty" and a positive enhancement of the fairy
spectacle on every side presented. Aladdin's fabled palace
may have been richer in gold and gems; but ours far exceeded his in the extent and multiplicity of its devices for
the sustenance; comfort, enjoyment of mankind,- its numberless steam-driven spindles, looms, &c., would have far outworked all the genii or gnomes of the Arabian romance;
while the vast crowds of human beings, especially of sumptuously, picturesquely apparelled women, who thronged that
gl;and avenue throughout day after day for weeks and months,
had no rival even in the most gorgeous creations of Oriental
fancy.
Having left New York in the stanch American steamship
Baltic, Capt. J. J. Comstock, on the 11th of April, when a
strong and cold northeaster had just set in, we took it with
us across the Atlantic, rarely blest with a brief glimpse of the
watery sun during our rough passage of twelve days and
some hours, encountering a severe gale on our first night out,
and another as we reached soundings on the Irish coast; and
being surfeited with rain and head-winds during our entire
passage, I was sick unto death's door for most of the time,
eating by an effort when I ate at all, and as thoroughly miserable as I knew how to be; so that the dirty, grimy little tug
that at last approached to take us ashore at Liverpool seemed
to me, though by no means white-winged, an angel of deliverance; and my first meal on solid, well-behaving earth will
long be remembered with gratitude to the friends who pro
270 
EUROPE.- THE WORLD'S EXPOSITION.
vided and shared it. I have since repeatedly braved the
perils and miseries of the raging main, and have never found
the latter so intolerable as on that first voyage; yet the ocean
and I remain but distant, unloving acquaintances, with no
prospect of ever becoming friends.
Pteaching London just before the Exposition opened, I was
accorded by the partiality of my countrymen who had pre ceded me (somewhat strengthened, I believe, by their jeal ousy of each other) the position of Chairman of one of the
Juries, - each of the countries largely represented in the
Exposition bcing allowed one Chairman. My department
(Class X.) included about three thousand lots (not merely
three thousand articles), and was entitled, I believe, Hardware; but it embraced not only metals, but all manner of
devices for generating or economizing gas, for eliminating or
diffusing heat, &c., &c. The duties thus devolved upon me
were entirely beyond my capacity; but my vice-Chairman,
Mr. William Bird, a leading British iron-master and London
merchant, was as eminently qualified for those duties as I was
deficient; and between us the work was so done that no complaint of its quality ever reached me. We had several most
competent colleagues on our jury, among them M. Spitaels, of
Belgium, a director of the Vielle Montaigne Zinc Mines, and
one of the wisest and best men I ever knew.
Revisiting England four years thereafter, I called on my
friend Bird, and he told me this anecdote: -
You may remember," he premised, "that I paid special
attention to foreign iron'throughout our service as jurors in
the Exposition, and that I dwelt on the admirable quality of
certain of the Austrian products which came within our purview.  Well: two years thereafter, when Summer brought its
usual dulness of trade, I thought I would run over and see
how those products were made. So, providing myself with
as good letters as I could command, I, in due time, waited on
Lord Westmoreland, our Ambassador at Vienna. He received
me courteously, but soon said:'I perceive, Mr. Bird, that the
letters you hand me from Lord Palmerston, Lord John Rus
271 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
sell, &c., imply something more than ordinary civilities.
What do you desire?'' I seek an order from the Austrian
Minister of Industry [or whatever the designation may be],
authorizing me to visit all the great iron-works in the Empire.''Why, Mr. Bird,' rejoined the Ambassador,'you cannot be aware of the jealousy wherewith British predominance
in iron-working is here regarded, or you would as soon request
me to ask the Minister to cede you Hungary. I cannot present your request.' So (continued Mr. B.), I left the Ambassador, thoroughly rebuffed, and returned to my carriage, in
which I had left an Austrian friend, who had been a commissioner at our Exposition.'What is the matter, Mr. Bird?'
he at once inquired;'you seem to have met with a disappointment.' I certainly had, as I proceeded to explain.' But
why not yourself ask the Minister for the privilege you desire?''Becaus'e he never heard of me.''There you are
mistaken,' said the,Austrian; and, opening his official report
on the London Exposition, he pointed therein to repeated and
hdarty acknowledgments of the highly important services
rendered to the Austrian exhibitors by Mr. Bird, of the tenth
jury.  He offered at once to introduce and commend me to
the Minister, and I gladly assented. Having been introduced
accordingly in the most flattering terms, the Minister soon
asked,'Mr. Bird, can I do nothing to make your visit agreeable?' - when I indicated my wish to visit the iron-works
of Austria.'With the greatest pleasure,' he responded, and
at once wrote me the desired order, couched in most emphatic
and sweeping terms. Thereupon, I left him, and spent my
next month in a tour through the iron-producing districts of
the empire,- everywhere received most hospitably, and shown
all that I asked or wished to see. Returning, at last, to
Vienna, I made a parting call on Lord Westmoreland; and,
in reply to his inquiry, informed him that I had spent my
time, since my previous call, among the iron-works of Ca rinthia, Styria, &C.'But how did you obtain the needful
order?' he inquired.'I asked the Minister for it in my own
name, and he readily granted it.''Very well, Mr.  Bird,'
272 
EUROPE. - THE WORLD'S EXPOSITION.
rejoined the puzzled Ambassador,'should I ever have any
great favor to ask of the Austrian Government, I may be
glad to avail myself of your influence.''
The council of the Exposition was composed of the chair men of the several juries; its president was Lord Canning
(son of the great Canning), who died Governor-General of
India some ten years thereafter. I regarded him with deep
interest for his father's sake, -that father having been Eng land's foremost man for years within my recollection. The
son seemed a man of decided cleverness and geniality, while
his countenance denoted wit, though I recollect nothing said
by him that confirmed my prepossession. Of the higher aris tocracy, I remember only the Duke of Argyle, - a small,
slight, sandy-haired person, gentle in manner, modest in bear ing, and nowise exacting the servile deference generally paid
by personal merit to inherited rank in Great Britain. I am
sure Lordel Canning, who had evidently a keen sense of the
ridiculous, must have been nauseated by the genuflexions and
prostrations, - " If your lordship will permit me to remark,"
"If I may presume to claim your lordship's attention for
a moment," &c., &c.- wherewith he was habitually addressed
by men whose achievements in Science and its applications
were elements at once of England's glory and of her prosperity and greatness. I may have seen a favorable sample of
the British nobility, but those I met were simply and eminently gentlemen,- and none more so than Arthur, Duke of
Wellington, - the Duke, then more than eighty years old,
who was one of the earliest and most frequent visitors to our
American quarter, and one of the very first to proclaim 
while the great London journals were jeering at the poverty
and.shabbiness of our department-its eminent and remarkable excellence.   He not merely visited, he studied and
inquired; and no more unpretending, fair-minded seeker of
practical information was among our visitors.  He was one of
those privileged, with the jurors, to enter and examine during
18
273 
RECOLLECTION,S OF A BUSY LIFE.
the early morning hours, when the public was excluded, and
when the queen, with her attendants, spent hours there, day
after day,- in part, doubtless, to satisfy a legitimate interest,
but in part, also, to commend and render popular the Exposition; so that, as my friend Charles Lane aptly remarked,
"You could not exactly say whether she stood on this side
of the counter or on that."  I am sure, few labored more
earnestly, more indefatigably than she did to make the enterprise a success, and no one with more decided efficiency.
British self-complacency and British fairness were  both
strikingly evinced in the conduct of the Exhibition. The
chairman of the Agricultural jury was Mr. Philip Pusey, M. P.
(brother of the clergyman of Tractarian fame), who inhabited
anid enjoyed a generous estate in Berkshlire, which had been
likewise inhabited and enjoyed by his ancestors for generations preceding the Norman conquest. RPepeatedly, he brought
up to the council a request from his jury that they might be
authorized to award prizes to the best, and the second-best,
American, Belgium, French, &c., ploughs, - and so of other
implements, - a request evidently prompted by apprehensions that they would otherwise be constrained by the general
superiority of British implements to award prizes to them
only.  "Mr. President," I urged in opposition, "we are asked
to destroy the practical value of our awards altogether. It
will be idle for this body to award a prize to one American
as better for a given purpose than another American plough,
- we can settle that point at home. Nor do we wish you to
award a prize to an American, as best adapted, say, to working stiff clay soils, if there be a much better plough for-that
purpose sent here from some other country. We do not Wish
to be confirmed in our errors, but warned to forsake them.
Let your prizes be awarded only to what is absolutely best,
and we shall then be enabled, if other nations have better
ploughs than ours, to adopt and profit by them."  Others
urged the same views more forcibly; and the Agricultural,
like all other juries, was ultimately obliged to conform to the
original programme.
274 
EUROPE.- THE WORLD'S EXPOSITIOiV.
When the council had met, late in July, for what was intended to be its last sitting, Mr. Pusey said, "I am constrained
to ask, on behalf of the Agricultural jury, that another meeting of this body be held some fortnight hence. We have,
this week, been testing reapers at Tiptree Hall (M. Mechi's),
and one of the American machines (Mr. C. HI. McCormick's)
surprised us by the efficiency and thie excellence of its operation. But thle day was rainy and the grain unripe; so we do
not feel sure that its triumph was not owing to those circumstances. We require another trial on a fair day, with ripe,
dry grain; and, sl-hould this machine then do as well as it has
already done under our eyes, we must ask for it the very
highest award." The request was granted; the trial repeated
under the conditions required, with a success fully equal to
that previously achieved; and a Council Medal solicited and
awarded accordingly.
I travelled hastily, that Summer, through France, from
Calais, ty Paris, to Lyons and across Savoy and Mount Cenis,
into Italy,- visiting Turin, Genoa, Rome, Florence, Ferrara,
Bologna, Padua, Venice, and Milan; recrossing the Alps by
the St. Gothard pass, and thence coming down through Altorf
and Lucerne to the RPhine at Basle; and so down the great
river to Cologne; thence, across Belgium, by Aix-la-Chapelle
and Brussels, into Northern France, and back to London, by
Paris, Dieppe, and New Haven. I soon after journeyed northward through Newcastle-on-Tynle,  York, and  Berwick-onTweed, to Edinburgh; thence, by Glasgow, to Belfast and
Dublin; thence westward, through Athlone to Galway; and,
after returning to Dublin, through Wexford and Tipperary, so
far southward as Limerick; returning, through WNVales, to
Liverpool, and there taking the Baltic for home.  The very
few deductions from such hasty journeyings that I may hazard will'be submitted in future chapters.
275 
XXXIII.
THE DISSOLUTION OF THE WHIG PARTY.
IEDRICH  KNICKEPRBOCKER,  the most  sagacious
and most popular historian of the Dutch era of our
city and State, notes one grave error of the New Netherland
magnates, and their pushing, meddling, encroaching Yankee
neighbors, in that, having wisely stopped fighting and betaken
themselves instead to negotiation, they did not protract indefinitely that amiable and hopeful procedure, but terminated it
abruptly by a treaty; over the interpreting of which their
quarrel instantly broke out afresh, and raged with greater
fury than before.
Their blunder has been often repeated.
The Compromise of 1850 had been carried through the
XXXIst Congress, not long after President Taylor's death,
mainly by virtue of the $10,000,000 given therein to Texas
for the relinquishment of her preposterous claim to New
Mexico. That donation raised the value of several millions
of outstanding Texas bonds from ten or fifteen cents on the
dollar to par..A Western Governor told me, a few years
afterward, that he administered on the estate of one of the
Senators from his State who helped pass the Compromise
measure, and who soon after died, and that among said Senator's assets he found nearly $30,000 of those Texan bonds,
with no scratch of pen to indicate liow he came by them, or
how much he gave for them.  Had he been a Croesus, this
would have been extraordinary; as he was a politician and
legislator of moderate means, it could be accounted for in but
one way. 
THE DISSOLUTION OF THE WHIG PARTY.
The Compromise measures had been carried by the votes
of all the Northern Democrats but a few decided opponents
of the Slave Power, all the Southern Whigs, with scarcely an
exception, a minority of the Southern Democrats, and a decided minority of the Northern Whigs, - a minority absolutely
inconsiderable until decidedly strengthened by Mr. Fillmore's
accession to the Presidency. Having now the National Administration on their side, the Compromisers endeavored to
make devotion to their measure a touchstone of political
orthodoxy; and a manifesto was drawn up and signed by
forty or fifty members of Congress, pledging themselves to
support no man for any office who did not sustain the Compromise.
A Whig State Convention met at Syracuse in the Autumn
of 1850, and nominated a State Ticket headed by Washington
Hunt for Governor. Francis Granger was President of that
Convention. Its resolves said nothing pro or con of the Compromise, but one of them approved the course of Governor
Seward' in the United States Senate (which he had entered
on the day of President Taylor's inauguration); and this was
vehemently resisted by the "Conservative" or Compromise
minority of the delegates, who, headed by its President, vacated their seats on its adoption. In the contest which followed, Hunt was barely chosen over Horatio.Seymour; but
the Democrats carried their Lieutenant-Governor (Church),
with most, if not all, of their remaining State officers. It was
clear that the "Silver Grays," (or Conservative Whigs,) had
either refused to vote, or gone over to the Democracy; though
Governor Hunt was in fact one' of themselves, and, after
running once more for Governor, and being badly beaten by
the "Silver Grays," he went openly over to them, and assiduously sought, but never found, promotion at their hands and
those of the Democrats, with whom he had by this time become completely affiliated.
Connecticut was, in like manner, barely carried over to the
Democrats by the "Silver Grays" in the Spring of 1851, and'
Hon. Roger S. Baldwin, who had opposed the Compromise in
277 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
the Senate, was supplanted by Isaac Toucey. Thus the
usually doubtful or closely contested Free States were generally carried by the Democrats, who elected United States
Senators from nearly all of them between 1850 and 1854;
giving their party an overwhelming preponderance in the
upper House for the six years prior to 1861.
In the South, the opponents of the Compromise attempted
to make head under the banner of State Pights.  Mississippi
having been represented in the Senate of 1850 by Jefferson
Davis, who strongly opposed, and by Henry S. Foote, who as
vehemently supported, the Compromise, that State divided
into two new parties, termed "Union" and "State PRig,hts"
respectively, and nominated the two Senators as rival candidates for Governor. A most spirited contest resulted in the
polling of an unprecedented vote,- nearly 60,000 in all,and the choice of Foote, "Union," by more than 1,000 majority. The residue of the Union Ticket was carried by a still
larger average majority.
In South Carolina, the new parties were essentially the
same, but the names were different; "Cooperation" -  that is,
a resolve to solicit and await the concurrence of other Slave
States before initiating forcible resistance to the Compromise
acts- being adopted as the watchword of the more moderate
party. As their election did not come off till Mississippi and
other Southern States had unequivocally decided against the
"Chivalry," or "Fire-Eaters," these were beaten here also by
a large majority, and the hope of dragging the South into an
attitude of Nullification or Disunion on this issue shown to
be utterly futile.
And now the two great parties held their several Presidential Conventions,- that of the Whigs assembling at Baltimore,
about the 1st of June, 1852. Mr. Fillmore was supported for
refelection by nearly all the Southern, as General Scott was
by the great body of the Northern, adherents of the drooping
flag.  The delegates friendly to either were 130 to 134 in
278 
THE DISSOLUTION OF THE WHIG PARTY.  279
number, while 30 to 36 preferred Mr. Webster to either of
them. Mr. Webster had been the Ajax of Compromise, had
been chosen by Mr. Fillmore as his Secretary of State, and in
that capacity had given character and dignity to the Administration. There was reason, therefore, for Mr. WVebster's sanguine hope, that, when Mr. Fillmore's nomination was proved
clearly hopeless, his name would be withdrawn, and his
strength transferred to his illustrious premier. This hope was
doomed, however, to disappointment. Forty or fifty ballots
were had without result; when the supporters of Webster
gradually went over to Scott, who was thereupon nominated,
with William A. Graham, of North Carolina, for Vice-President.
But the friends of Fillmore and Webster, though differing
as to candidates, were a unit as to platform; and they framed
one which pledged the party unequivocally to the support
and maintenance of the Compromises of 1850.  General
Scott made haste to plant himself squarely on this platform,
which vas in undoubted accordance with his own prepossessions. He thus alienated thousands of Anti-Slavery Whigs,
whose detestation of the new and stringent Fugitive Slave law
was uncontrollable; while the Conservative or "Silver Gray"
Whigs, would not support him because the great body of
Anti-Slavery Whigs did, and because they foresaw that his
counsellors must necessarily be chosen in good part from
among these.
The delegates to the Democratic National Convention were
divided in their preferences for President, - General Cass
and Mr. Buchanan being the leading favorites, but a good
many votes being scattered upon others. Finally, Franklin
Pierce, of New JIampshire, was brought forward, and nominated with substantial unanimity.  Hie had been a representative in, and finally Speaker of, the more popular branch of the
Legislature of his State, a Pepresentative and Senator in Congress, and then a volunteer and Brigadier-General in the Mexican WVar, but had passed the last eight years mainly in retirement.  A pleasing canvasser, of popular address and manners, 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
he could.not be said to have achieved eminence, whether in
his civil or his military career; indeed, General Cass, who
had served with him two or three years as fellow-Democrats
in the Senate, had not made his acquaintance up to the hour
of his nomination. Hon. William Pt. King, of Alabama, who
had long been United States Senator from that State, was
nominated with him for Vice-President.
The ensuing canvass was short, tolerably spirited, but onesided from the start. The Democrats, who were quietly
ploughing with the "Silver Gray" heifer throughout, knew
they were backed to win, - that there could be no mistake
about it.  The Whigs tried hard to stem the tide; but the
nomination of John P. Hale for President by the Abolitionists
was a heavy side-blow, as he was sure to take thousands of
votes which, but for the Compromise platform, would have
been given for Scott. Maine and California in September,
Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana in October, gave majorities
or decisive pluralities for the Democrats. The Whigs were
thus prepared for defeat, but not for the overwhelmhning rout
which overtook them, when, at the closing of the polls in
November, it was found that they had carried precisely four
States,- Massachusetts, Vermont, Kentucky, and Tennessee,
all the rest having chosen Pierce electors,- New York by
some 25,000 plurality; Pennsylvania, Ohio, Virginia, &c., by
majorities equally conclusive. True, the popular vote showed
no such disparity as the electoral; but the preponderance exceeded 200,000 in an aggregate poll of about Three Millions.
The Whig party had been often beaten before; this defeat
proved it practically defunct, and in an advanced stage of decomposition.
280 
XXXIV.
THE SLAVERY CONTROVERSY.
I  AM naturally anti-Slavery.  If Slavery is not wrong,
then nothing is wrong.  I cannot remember when I did
not so think and feel." So said Abraham Lincoln to Governor
Braminlette, ex-Senator Dixon, and Editor Hodges, when they
waited on him with Kentucky's remonstrance against the
arming of Blacks to put down the Rebellion, and against the
Emancipation policy, too tardily adopted on the part of the
Union.
I believe Mr. Lincoln thus forcibly gave expression to what
was the very general experience of American boys reared in
the Free States forty to sixty years ago, while the traditions
and the impulses of our Revolutionary age were still vivid
and pervading,- at least, of those trained by intelligent Federal mothers. In the South, it may have been otherwise;
though nearly all the great Southrons of our country's purer
days, from George Washington and Thomas Jefferson down
to Henry Clay, were at least theoretical emancipationists. As
the fires of the Revolution never burned so deeply, nor shone
so vividly, in the South as in the North, it is natural that
they should there have sooner been stifled, if not extinguished;
yet I was fifteen years old when the avowal of pro-Slavery
sentiments by a Northern Representative * in Congress called
forth an instant and indignant rebuke from several eminent
natives t and champions of the South.
* Edward Everett of Massachusetts.
t Churchill C. Cambreleng, of North Carolina (removed to New  York);
J. C. Mitchell, of Tennessee; John Randolph, of Virginia. 
.RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
Though but a child of seven to ten years, I was an omnivorous reader throughout the progress of the great Missouri
struggle, and intensely sympathized with the North in her
effort to prevent the admission of Missouri as a Slave State.
The defeat of that effort showed that it had been made too
late, -that the North should have insisted on the exclusion
of         Slavery from at least her share of Louisiana immediately
after  it s purchase from France, or when it came to be organized a s a    Territory (or Territories) of the Union.   "Just as
the tw ig is bent the tree's inclined," is an axiom of the
widest scope; and letting Slavery (or any other evil) creep
int o  a      vast region, and there quietly establish and fortify
itself, while that region is called a Territory, intending and
expecting to extrude and exclude it when said region shall
present itself for recognition and admission as a State, is a
manifest futility. The problem involved is neatly set forth
in t     he hackneyed old Parliamentary epigram:
"I hear a lion in the lobby roar;
Say, Mr. Speaker, shall we shut the door,
And keep him out? or shall we let him in,
And see if we can turn him out again?"
Mr. Jefferson, in his purer, nobler days,- before he became
the leader and oracle of a great party which, in spite of his
unconcealed prepossessions, gave him the votes for President
of nearly all the essentially Slave States, and thenceforth
leaned more and more upon the Slave Power for support, so
long as that Power had a substantial existence,- had proposed, and nearly carried, in the Continental Congress of 1784,
the absolute exclusion of Slavery from all the territory then
belonging to, or likely to be acquired by, the old Confederation. The RPevolutionary War was then barely ended; the
British troops still held the city of New York; and the accidental absence of a member from New Jersey probably prevented the adoption at that time of a policy which would
have realized the hopes of our Revolutionary heroes and
sages, by quietly, gradually tending to and  insuring the
peaceful, bloodless extirpation of Human Bondage from our
282 
THE SLAVERY CONTROVERSY.
country. To have confined it, as Mr. Jefferson purposed and
proposed, to the existing States which saw fit to maintain it,
making their bounds a limit beyond which it could not pass,
would not have been an expeditious nor heroic, but would
have been a cheap, quiet, and certain mode of ridding the
country of its most gigantic wrong and peril. But Mr. Jefferson was soon sent envoy to France, and the next Congress
reduced his statesmanlike programme so as merely to exclude
Slavery from all the territory then possessed by the Confederation; viz., the region lying between the Ohio and the
Mississippi. And when the vast, wild country then known
as Louisiana came to be acquired from France, though few
years had passed, and Mr. Jefferson was then at the zenith of
his power, no potent voice was raised in favor of consecrating
at least its still virgin soil, or even the Northern half of it, to
Free Labor forever. There is a sad pathos in the simple Scriptural narration, "Another king arose, who knew not Joseph";
but in these faster ages we do not need to await the transformation wrought by death; our kings forget, not merely their
Josephs, but whatever was best and noblest of themselves.
MIr. Jefferson having thus, in 1784, proposed, and all but
carried, the exclusion of Slavery absolutely and forever from
all the territory contained within our National Boundaries,
and not yet embraced within the jurisdiction of our thirteen
States, though much of it was still the especial property of
North Caroling and Georgia, both Slave States; Congress, in
1787, unanimously adopted Mr. Jefferson's prohibition, but
confined its application to such territory as had already been
ceded to, and was then possessed by, the Confederation. The
next Congress was chosen and met under the Federal Constitution; and this, without a dissenting voice, ratified and
confirmed the prohibition, as already made; but the Territories
soon thereafter cut off from North Carolina and Georgia, to
be ultimately moulded into the States of Tennessee, Alabama,
and Mississippi, were expressly shielded, in the acts or ordinances whereby they were ceded, from the operation of the
anti-Slavery proviso of 1787, and thus fastened to the car of
Bondage.
283 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
And thenceforth no new National effort was made in the
right direction until the Missouri struggle, which resulted in
our defeat on the main point, through the medium of a Compromise; the make-weight being a stipulation that Slavery
should thenceforth be excluded from all United States territory north of the line of 36~ 30' north latitude,- that is, the
southern boundary of Missouri. In other words, it was agreed
and stipulated that - Missouri being admitted as a Slave
State.- all our remaining territory, and consequently all our
States still in embryo, north of the southern boundary of that
State, should be evermore free.
"After a storm comes a calm." From 1821 to 1835, or from
my tenth to my twenty-fourth year, the Northern peoplebusy, usually prosperous, and pretty steadily increasing in
numbers, wealth, and power - very generally ignored the subject of Slavery.  The convictions of that portion of them who
may be said to have had any were not materially changed;
but what use in parading a conviction which can have no
other effect than that of annoying your proud and powerful
neighbor?  True, Benjamin Lundy had already begun the
agitation for Slavery's overthrow, which William Lloyd Garrison and others, during this period, continued and methodized;
but the handful of proclaimed, aggressive Abolitionists were
as one to a thousand, even at the North; while none were
tolerated at the South. And, in fact, whatever of impunity
they enjoyed throughout the greater portion of the North was
accorded them rather through contempt for their insignificance
than willingness to let them be heard.  Had it been imagined
that the permanence of Slavery was endangered by their
efforts, they would scarcely have escaped with their lives from
any city or considerable village wherein they attempted to
hold forth: even as it was, hootings, howlings, blackguard
revilings, rotten eggs, stoned windows, &c., &c., were among
the milder demonstrations of repugnance to which they were
habitually subjected.
284
I 
THE SLAVERY CONTROVERSY.
And, while I could not withhold from these agitators a certain measure of sympathy for their great and good object, I
was utterly unable to see how their efforts tended to the
achievement of their end.   Granted  (most heartily) that
Slavery ought to be abolished, how was that consummation to
be effected by societies and meetings of men, women, and
children, who owned no slaves, and had no sort of control
over, or even intimacy with, those who did?
Suppose the people of Vermont all converted to Abolition,
how was that to bring about the overthrow of Slavery in
Georgia? I could not say nor see; and therefore I was never
a member of any distinctively Abolition society, and very
rarely found time to attend an Abolition meeting. Conservative by instinct, by tradition, and disinclined to reject or leave
undone the practical good within reach, while straining after
the ideal good that was clearly unattainable, I clung fondly
to the Whig party, and deprecated the Abolition or Third
Party movement in politics, as calculated fatally to weaken
the onlygreat National organization which was likely to oppose an effective resistance to the persistent exactions and
aggressions of the Slave Power. Hence, I.for years regarded
with complacenrcy the Colonization movement, as looking to
the establishment of a respectable, if not formidable, Christian
republic on the western coast of Africa, and vaguely hoped
that a day might ultimately dawn, wherein the rudely transplanted children of Africa might either be restored to her soil,
or established, under a government and flag of their own, in
some tropical region of our own continent.
Two events, of nearly simultaneous occurrence, materially
modified these preconceptions.   One was  the irruption of
certain Western filibusterers, of whom Sam Houston may be
regarded as the leader and type, into the Mexican province
of Texas, under the pretence of colonization and settlement,
but with deliberate intent to wrest that province, under the
pretence of a revolution, from its rightful owners, and then
annex it to the United States; thus expanding the area and
enhancing the power of American Slavery,- a programme
285 
RECOLLECTION,S OF A BUSY LIFE.
which was thoroughly realized in the course of ten or twelve
years.
It is easy to sever the acts of this drama so as to ignore
their continuity and interdependence; but I, who read the
exulting anticipations of the end from the beg,inning, having
no motive for self-delusion, never affected it. In my view,
the whole business was one of gigantic spoliation, - of naked
villany, - and its "being's end and aim" were the aggrandizement of the Slave Power.
The coordinate event was the martyrdom of Elijah P.
Lovejoy, -a young Congregational minister, sent out from
Maine to St. Louis as an evangelist in 1832, and soon impelled to start in that city an Orthodox Protestant newspaper,
wherein Slavery, like Intemperance and other social evils,
was treated as an impediment to the spread and sway of vital
godliness.  Perhaps his a,,ggressive Protestantism had some
influence in arousing the resolute, menacing opposition which
at length destroyed his establishment, and drove him from
the city and the State.* At all events, Mr. Lovejoy was
urged, and in effect compelled, to remove his establishment to
Alton, Illinois; where he fondly trusted a religious journal
would be tolerated, even though it should occasionally expose
and reprobate the iniquities necessarily inherent in or flowing
from man-selling and man-owning.
Vain hope! there is, there can be, no Free State in a nation
which allows its people to be bought and sold, held and
treated, like cattle.  Soon, Mr. Lovejoy was ordered to "move
on"; and, failing to do so, his press was a second time destroyed by a mob. Again he resolved to renew and refit his
establishment; and was proceeding to do so, when, surrounded
by a few friends, he stood to arms for the defence of his
property and his right of utterance, at the warehouse where
his third press had just been landed from Cincinnati, and was
shot dead t by one of the pro-Slavery ruffians, who thus attested their devotion to the Union and to "Southern PRights."
And no legal justice was ever meted out to his murderers,
In May, 1836.                  t November 7, 1837.
286 
THE SLAVERY CONTROVERSY.
no restitution made to his bereaved family for his press and
type, which constituted "the spoils of victory."  He had
dared, as a Christian minister, to argue the incompatibility
of Slavery with the Golden RIule; and the mob had dealt
him therefor what the messages of President Jackson, of Governor Marcy, &c., &c., set forth as his substantial deserts.
If I had ever been one of those who sneeringly asked, "What
have we of the North to do with Slavery?" the murder of
Lovejoy would have supplied me with a conclusive answer. A
thousand flagrant outrages had been, and were, committed upon
the persons and property of men and women guilty of no
crime but that of publicly condemningl Slavery; but these
were usually the work of irresponsible mobs, acting under
some sort of excitement; but Lovejoy was deliberately, systematically, hunted to his death, simply because hlie would
not, in a nominally Free State, cease to bear testimony as a
Christian minister and journalist to the essential iniquity of
slaveholding. It was thenceforth plain to my apprehension,
that Slavery and true Freedom could not coexist on thie same
soil. And this conviction was deepened and strengthened by
the progress and issue of the struggle which resulted in the
Annexation of Texas and the consequent War upon Mexico.
That Slavery, having thus extended her power in and over
the Union, should not reap a further advantage, through the
extension of her sway over the whole or any portion of the
territory beyond Texas, most unrighteously wrested from
Mexico, was my earnest resolution. To break the dangerous
hold which the Slave Power had already gained in New
Mexico, through the preposterously impudent, but not therefore impotent, claim of Texas to the ownership of that
country, through the committal of the Democratic party, if
not of the Federal Government also, to the support of that
claim, through the advance of General Taylor, by President
Polk's express orders, to the Rio Grande, near Matamoras,
and the consequent outbreak of actual hostilities, was the
cardinal point which I kept steadily in view while in Congress, and which moved me to give a qualified support to
287 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
so much of Mr. Clay's original programme of Compromise as
contemplated the admission of California and the organization
of the remaining acquisitions from Mexico.
This general survey has seemed essential to a clear comprehension of the circumstances under which a new and more
pervading excitement was aroused at the North by the shape
ultimately given by Senator Douglas to his bill for the organization of the new Territories of Kansas and Nebraska,- an
excitement which recast the great parties, and gave a new
phase to our National career,
In politics, as in nature, great events may seem to result
from inadequate causes, because a long series of preexisting
causes are unnoted or ignored. The North gave a majority
of its Electoral votes to Polk, against Clay, not because of
the Texas issue, but in spite of it. The more intelligent,
considerate, conscientious Democrats did not approve of the
proposed Annexation of Texas under existing circumstances;
but they were too intent on beating Mr. Clay to give much
thought or weight to the Texas'issue; and, beside, they were
able to convince themselves that there was little difference
as to Texas between Polk and Clay. But, the struggle being
over, and their ancient grudge satisfied, the celerity wherewith Annexation was effected —the election of Polk being
triumphantly quoted as justifying and even requiring it -
made a deep impression on their minds.  They could not now
effectually breast the sweeping current; but they saw, reflected, and quietly bided their time. In the Democratic,
triumph of 1844 was the germ of future Democratic disasters
and humiliations.
288 
xxxv.
THE NEW ERA IN POLITICS.
T IE  Presidential contest of 1852 had witnessed - if I
should not rather say attested-the practical dissolution
of the Whig party, - dissolved not by popular aversion to its
principles or its leaders, but by the ever-increasing and ultimately absorbing importance acquired by questions to which
those principles bore no direct relation. A majority of the
voters of Pennsylvania, of Ohio, of Maryland, of North Carolina, Kentucky, and several other States, still agreed with the
Whigs in favoring Protection to Home Industry, National
Internal Improvements, &c., &c.; but other questions had assumed greater prominence or imminence in the minds of many
of them; and these, by dividing and distracting those who had
been Whigs, had not merely overthrown the former Whig
ascendency, but precluded all rational hope of its reestablishment. The veterans who had fought their best campaigns
under the lead of Clay, Harrison, or Webster, might not realize this,- might persist in holding conventions, framing
platforms, nominating candidates, and even achieving local
successes; but the young, the ambitious, the unprejudiced,
had already perceived by instinct that the party which triumphed in 1840 and in 1848 - which was barely, even if
fairly, outnumbered in 1844- was so paralyzed by divisions
and. defections founded on new or alien issues, that it could
hardly be expected ever to carry the country again. And its
virtual dissolution left the ground open and inviting for new
combinations and developments.
The first of these in the order of time was the "American,"
19 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
familiarly characterized as the "Know-Nothing," movement.
It had its origin in this city; where a similar, but less vigorous,
less formidable, organization had been effected in 1843 - 44,
as also at an earlier day.  It now assumed the shape of a secret Order, hostile in profession to foreign domination, and in
effect to the naturalization of immigrants until after a residence in this country of twenty-one years, and more especially
to Roman Catholic influence and ascendency.  Hitherto, this
movement had been confined to a few of our great cities and
their vicinage, and had, after a brief career, subsided; but now
it pervaded most of our States, achieving temporary'triumphs
in Kentucky, Maryland, and Delaware, and stoutly battling
for ascendency even in Virginia, as in nearly every Eastern
State; and for a brief season it seemed destined to sweep all
before it, and remodel our institutions into conformity with
its ideas. But its apparent strength was largely factitious,men of diverse parties, of radically incompatible views and
purposes, using its machinery to further their several ends,
and discarding it whenever such use was precluded or defeated.
The fact that almost every "Know-Nothing" was at heart a
Whig or a Democrat, a champion or an opponent of Slavery,
and felt a stronger, deeper interest in other issues than in
those which affiliated him with the "Order," rendered its disruption and abandonment a question, not of years, but of
months. It claimed to have carried the Legislature of our
State in 1854; but that Legislature reelected to the Senate
William IH. Seward, who had no sympathy with any of its
purposes; it actually chose the State officers elected in our'
State in 1855, though it polled less than three eighths of the
entire vote,- running its candidates in between those of the
two adverse parties; but its attempt to choose a President in
1856 resulted in disastrous rout; the only State carried by it
being Maryland, though Millard Fillmore was its candidate
for President, with Andrew J. Donelson, the nephew and heir
of General Jackson, for Vice-President. Thenceforth, it dwindled rapidly, until its members had been fully absorbed into one
or the other of the great rival parties some four years thereafter.
290 
THE NEW ERA IN POLITICS.
The simultaneous - in fact, concurrent at the outset, but
widely divergent- movement which has since so deeply influenced our national career had its origin in the attempt to
organize the territories lying directly west of the State of
Missouri and Iowa, under the name of Nebraska.  The leading facts in the premises are so widely known, and have been
so thoroughly discussed, that I may pass over them hurriedly;
yet they excited so powerful an influence over my own subsequent course that I cannot wholly ignore them.
Stephen Arnold Douglas, a Vermonter by birth, had made
Illinois his home; and, though his education was limited, and
his means moderate, aspired to fortune and power as a lawyer
and politician. A Democratic candidate for Con,gress in 1838,
in a district which included the northern two thirds of the
area of the State, and now contains at least 1,500,000 inhabitants, he was beaten 68 votes by his Whig competitor in a
poll of 36,742, though the Democratic Governor had therein
a decided majority. But Mr. Douglas evinced in the canvass
qualities that endeared him to his party, by which he was
soon made a judge, in a few years chosen a Representative in
Congress, and in due course transferred to the Senate, where
he was placed on the Committee on Territories, and in time
became its Chairman. As such, he had already (at the short
session of 1852- 53) introduced a bill to organize the Territory
of Nebraska, which Senator Atchison, of western Missouri,
had opposed and obstructed, - notoriously in the interest of
Slavery, - the territory in question having been expressly,
undeniably, consecrated to Free Labor by the Missouri Compromise of 1820.
At the next long session of 1853-54, Mr. Douglas reintroduced his bill to organize the territory in question; and
now for the first time did he seek to deprecate the hostility
evinced through Mr. Atchison by an intimation that the
Compromise of 1850 had superseded and annulled the interdict of 1820. Hereupon, Mr. Dixon, of Kentucky, interposed a direct proposition that the interdict be repealed and
cancelled. Mr. Douglas did not at once acquiesce, and The
291 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
Union (the Democratic organ at Washington) pointedly denounced the Dixon amendment; but Mr. Douglas, after some
hesitation, accepted it in principle, and interpolated it into
his bill, in terms which declared "the true intent and meaning" thereof to be "neither to legislate Slavery into the territory in question, nor to exclude it therefrom," but to leave
the people thereof perfectly free to establish or exclude "the
peculiar institution," as to them should seem advisable.  And
President Pierce, though he at first resisted and protested,
was ultimately induced to sustain this proposition, and to
give a written pledge (as I am well assured) that he would
do so to the end.
Soon after the bill had taken this shape, and while the
North was beginning to be aroused to resist it, I was traversing Ohio; and, visiting either Newark or Lancaster, I was
there introduced to Hon. William Stanberry, who, years before,
had been an eminent representative in Congress, but was now
old and retired from public life. "What do you think of
this Nebraska bill?" he eagerly inquired.  "I think it bound
to pass," was my response.  "Ah! I see you don't understand it," he confidently rejoined: "Frank Pierce has had
this project introduced, in order that he may veto it; and
then nothing can prevent his ree6lection." I might have
assured SMr. Stanberry that a Democratic President who
should lead his party into such a quagmire for his own personal advantage would not be long for this world;  but he
was much older than I, and I left him firm in his original
faith.
I do not propose to trace here the history of the Nebraska
bill, which was at length so modified by its author as to provide for two distinct Territories, -that lying directly westward of Missouri being designated Kansas, while the residue
of that originally contemplated became Ncebraska.   In this
shape, it passed the Senate by 35 Yeas to 13 Nays, and the
House by 113 Yeas to 100 Nays, -nine of the latter from
Slave States. And thereupon commenced a practical struggle between Freedom and Slavery for the possession of Kan
292 
THE NEW ERA IN POLITICS.
sas, which lasted down to her final admission as a Free State,
after the Southern representatives had abandoned their seats
in Congress, in obedience to their States' respective Ordi nances of Secession. I
As I gave, from first to last, whatever of strength I pos sessed, and of effort that I was capable of making, to the
work of arousing the people of the Free States to resist and
baffle, step by step, the attempt to open to Slavery the region
already solemnly pledged to Free Labor, I desire briefly to
set forth the grounds of that resistance whereon conservative
Unionism and radical Anti-Slavery seemed to meet and
coincide.
Slavery, as a local institution, was primarily the business
of the States which saw fit to uphold it. We of the North,
under our Federal Constitution as it then stood, had the same
right to deprecate and oppose it that we had to oppose drunkenness in Canada, or polygamy in Turkey,- no less, no more.
Only when it transcended the limits of those States, and
challenged favor and support as a matter of National or general concern, did it (in our view) expose itself to our political
antagonism.  Only when it sought to involve us in a common effort, a common responsibility, with its upholders and
champions, did it force us into an attitude of active, determined antagonism. This view had been succinctly and forcibly set forth, with immediate reference to Texas, so early as
February, 1838, by Daniel Webster, in a speech at Niblo's
Garden, New York, and was held (I presume) by a large majority of those citizens of the Free States who supposed that
conscience and morality have any business in the sphere of
politics.
Yet the rulers of opinion at the South seemed never to
comprehend, nor even to consider it. In their view, whoever
evinced repugnance to Slavery anywhere, under any circumstances, was an Abolitionist, and an enemy of their section,
-a wanton aggressor upon their rights. What they in effect
required of us, and what those whom they heeded and
trusted at the North accorded them, was partnership in the
:293 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
extension and fortification of Slavery and the Slave Power.
"True, we hold and work the slaves," they virtually said;
"but as much for your profit as for our own.  You buy our
crops, and sell us whatever we need or fancy in return. You
own the vessels that fetch and carry for us; you supply our
fabrics, and make a part of them: help us to diffuse our institution over more territory, and we will grow more cotton
and buy more goods, to your satisfaction and profit: Why
not?" The answer given to this question by her Northern
factors, servitors, political allies, the South heard and rejoiced
in: the very different response made by the conscience of
the North, she did not, because she would not, hear and comprehend.
The passage of the Nebraska Bill was a death-blow to
Northern quietism and complacency, mistakingly deeming
themselves conservatism. To all who had fondly dreamed or
blindly hoped that the Slavery question would somehow settile itself, it cried, "Sleep no more!" in thunder-tones that
would not die unheeded. Concession and complacency were
plainly doomed to subserve none other than the most transient purposes. Every new surrender on the part of the
North was seen to provoke a new exaction in the name of the
South. Louisiana, Missouri, Texas, Kansas,- the more that
was conceded, the more was still required. As, in the ascent
of a mountain,
"Hills peep over hills, and Alps on Alps arise,"
so a long vista of future exactions and concessions was
opened by this latest and fullest triumph of aggressive Slavery. Systematic, determined resistance was now recognized
as imperative duty. That resistance could only be rendered
effective through a distinct, compact political organization.
That organization was therefore resolved on, spontaneously
and simultaneously, by a million Northern firesides.  It was
earliest effected in the West, but had pervaded nearly every
Free State before the close of 1854, and had assumed almost
everywhere a common designation,- that of the Republican
party.
294 
XXXVI.
MY FARM.
SHOULD  have been a farmer.  All my riper tastes in   cline to that blessed calling whereby the human family
and its humbler auxiliaries are fed. Its quiet, its segregation
from strife, and brawls, and heated rivalries, attract and delight me.  I hate to earn my  bread in any calling which
complicates my prosperity in some sort with others' adversity,
my success with others' defeat.  The farmer's floors may
groan with the weight of his crops, yet no one else deems
himself' the poorer therefor. He may grow a hundred bushels of corn or forty of wheat to every arable acre, without
arousing jealousy or inciting to detraction.
I am content with my lot, and grateful for the generosity
wherewith my labors have been rewarded; and yet I say
that, were I now to begin my life anew, I would choose to
earn my bread by cultivating the soil. Blessed is he whose
day's exertion ends with the evening twilight, and who can
sleep unbrokenly and without anxiety till the dawn awakes
him, with energies renewed and senses brightened, to fresh
activity and that fulness of health and vigor which are
vouchsafed to those only who spend most of their waking
hours in the free, pure air and renovating sunshine of the
open country.
I would have been a farmer, had any science of farming
been known to those among whom my earlier boyhood was
passed. We New-Englanders supposed ourselves, even then,
an educated, intelligent people, and, relatively considered,
were so: there was no person among us, over twelve years 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
old, who had not enjoyed the privileges of common schools,
and learned therein to read, write, and cipher; we all read
books and newspapers, and I read nearly all of both that were
to be found in our neighborhood; yet I cannot remember
that I had ever seen a periodical devoted to farming, up to
the day wherein, in my sixteenth year, I abandoned the farm
for the printery. A book treating of Agriculture, or seeking
to set forth the rationale of its processes, the natural laws on
which they are based, I certainly had not seen. Nay, more:
during the ten or twelve years in which I attended school,
more or less, I never saw a treatise on Chemistiry, Geology,
or Botany, in a school-room. I hardly saw one anywhere.
That true Agriculture is a grand, ennobling science, based on
other sciences, and its pursuit a liberal, elevating profession,
was not even hinted, much less inculcated, in any essay, speech,
or sermon, any book, pamphlet, or periodical, so far as I then
knew.   Farming,  as understood  and  practised  by those
among whom I grew up, was a work for oxen; and for me
thQ life of an ox had no charms.   Most of those I knew
seemed to till the earth mainly because they could not help
it; and I felt that I could help it. So I shook from my brogans the dust of the potato-patch, and stepped out in quest
of employment better suited to an intelligent, moral being.
It was a quarter of a century after this before I felt able
to buy or make the farm whereon to abide the coming of
decay and death. I had been some twenty years a resident
of the city, and fifteen the head of a household. Six children
had been born to me, and four of them had died, - as I am
confident some of them would not so prematurely have done,
had they been born and reared in the country.
I had earned and bought a small but satisfactory house in
the very heart of the city; but who, if he has any choice,
prefers to grow old and die at No. 239, unknown, to, and uncared for by, the denizens of Nos. 237 and 241? For my
family's sake, if not for my own, a country.home was required: so I looked about and found one.
The choice was substantially directed by my wife, who
296 
MY FARA.3
said she insisted on but three requisites,- 1. A peerless spring
of pure, soft, living water; 2. A cascade or brawling brook;
3. Woods largely composed of evergreens. These may seem
light matters; yet I was some time in finding them grouped
on the same small plat, within reasonable distance from the
city.
I did find them, however; and those who object to my
taste in choosing for my home a rocky, wooded hillside,
sloping to the north of west, with a bog at its foot, cannot
judge me fairly, unless they consider the above requirements.
My land was previously the rugged, mainly wooded, outskirt of.two adjacent farms, whereof my babbling brook
formed the boundary.
Nine miles above White Plains, and thirty-five N. N. E. of
our City Hall, the Harlem Railroad, when nearly abreast of
the village of Sing-Sing, and six miles east of it, just after
entering the township of Newcastle, crosses a quite small,
though'pretty constant, mill-stream, named by the Indians
Chappaqua, which is said to have meant falling or babbling
water, and which, here running to the southeast, soon takes
a southwesterly turn, recrosses under the railroad, and finds
its way into the Hudson, through the Sawmill or Nepperhan
creek, at Yonkers. A highway, leading westward to SingSing, crosses the railroad, just north of the upper crossing of
the brook, and gives us, some twenty rods from the northwest corner of my farm, a station and a post-office, which,
with our modest village of twenty or thirty houses, take their
name from our mill-stream. Chappaqua is not a very liquid
trisyllable, but there is comfort in the fact that it is neither
Clinton, nor Washington, nor Middletown, nor any of the
trite appellations which have been so often reapplied, that
half the letters intended for one of them are likely to bring
up  at some other.   (How can a rational creature  be so
thoughtless as to date his letter merely "Greenfield," or "Jackson," or "Springfield," and imagine that the stranger he addresses can possibly guess whither to mail the answer?)
297 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
My brook has its source in wooded, granite hills, on the
east southeast, and comes tinkling or brawling thence to be
lost in the Chappaqua, a few rods south of the road to Pleasantville, which forms my southwestern boundary. As to
springs, there are not less than a dozen, which no drouth
exhausts, breaking out along the foot of my hill, or at the
base of a higher ridge which forms its crest.
My woods are the pride of the farm, which without them
would never have been my farm. They cover about twentyfive of the seventy-five acres which compose it; and I say to
them, with Oriental courtesy, and more than Oriental sincerity,
"May your shadow never be less!"  For the ground they
cover is in good part an irregular, sideling granite ledge, or
portions of a ledge, thinly covered by a granitic, gravelly soil,
which could not be made to grow anything but wood to the
profit of the grower; whereas, it grows wood better than a rich
Illinois or Kansas prairie often condescends to do. Its trees
are mainly Hemlock and Red Cedar (my evergreens), White
aid Red Oak, Whitewood, Chestnut, White and Blue Beech,
Dogwood, White Ash, Sugar and Soft Maple, Elm, Hickory,
Tulip, Butternut, Black, Yellow, and White Birch. There were
just two trees that I could not name, after twenty years' absorption in the city; one of them is known as Pepperidge, the
other as Yellow Poplar. There were a good many wild Black
Cherries; but these I have nearly exterminated, as they bred
caterpillars to infest my Apple-trees.  Of shrubs, there are
many that I cannot name.   Witch Hazel, Bunch Willow,
Choke Cherry, Hazel, Sassafras, and Sumac, are among those
that I readily recognized. Swamp Alder infested the springy,
rocky, boggy ground at the foot of one of my hills, till I extirpated it, and the Dogwood is marked for speedy destruction.
It beautifies- nay, glorifies- the woods while in blossom for
a week or so early in May; but it is of no account as timber,
while it sows its seed everywhere, and tends to monopolize
a good deal more ground than it will pay for.
My first care, on getting possession of my farm, was to
shut cattle out of the greater part of the woods, where they
298 
MY FARM.
had been free to roam and ravage throughout the two preceding centuries that this region had felt the presence of civilized man. Pasturing woods is one of the most glaring vices
of our semi-barbarian agriculture.   Cattle browse the tender
twigs of delicate, valuable young trees, while they leave the
coarse and worthless unscathed. I have, to-day, ten times as
many of the Sugar Maple, White Ash, etc., coming on in my
woods as there were when I bought and shut the cattle out
of them.
I have no blind horror of cutting trees. Any fairly grown
forest can always spare trees, and be benefited by their removal.   But I protest most earnestly against the reckless
waste involved in cutting off and burning over our forests.
In regions which are all woods, ground must of course be
cleared for cultivation; but many a farmer goes on slashing
and burning long after he should halt and begin to be saving
of his timber. Many of our dairymen are beginning to say,
"Down with the rest of our woods! we can buy all the coal
we need for fiuel, with half the butter and cheese we can
make on our lands now covered with wood." Friends, that
is a sad miscalculation. With one fourth of your land in
wood, judiciously covering the crests of your ridges, the sides
of your ravines, your farms will grow more grass than if
wholly denuded and laid bare to the scorching sun. Protracted, desolating drouths, bleak, scathing winds, and the
failuire of delicate fruits like the Peach and finer Pears, are
part of the penalty we pay for depriving our fields and gardens of the genial, hospitable protection of forests.
Of tree-planting, other than for fruit, I have as yet done
little. A row of RPock Maples along the highways that skirt
my farm, and a clump of evergreens just north of my garden,
are nearly all I have to show. Any one can grow Sugar
Maples who will try.'To prove it, I need only say that I
have lost but two in over a hundred, and these by accident,
though my trees mainly came from Rochester, were opened
on a warm, sunny day, and left thus with their roots exposed
till thoroughly dry.   I came upon the planter just then,
299 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and told him he had killed the trees; but I was mistaken.
I would, however, advise no one to try the experiment of
drying the roots of trees while transplanting them; but, if he
will be so careless, he may better take the risk on the Sugar
Maple than on any other tree within my knowledge.
As there is a stout hill just south of my farm, my lower
land is overshadowed by hills in the two wrong directions,
and so inclines to be cold. Just north of where my brook
dances out of the glen which it has worn down the face of
My Evergreen HIedge.
the hill is my garden, with a slight elevation or ridge just
north of it.
This low ridge I have planted with evergreens, as a shelter or wind-break for the garden. Part of them are Hemlocks
and Ped Cedars, transplanted from the woods just at hand;
perhaps as many are Norway and other Pines, with Balsam
and other Firs, obtained from nurseries.  These latter have
300 
MY FARM.
the more luxuriant growth, but all have done well; and the
copse or clulnp -possibly forty rods in length by three or four
in width- is (at least in Winter) the pleasantest object seen
on the farm. The little greenhouse which nestles beneath it
is flanked by strawberry beds, a few grape-vines, and room for
early vegetables, which, sloping gently southward, enjoy an
average temperature several degrees higher than they would if
the evergreens were away; and the acre or so of level garden
farther south is also, but less considerably, warmed and shel tered by this belt of evergreens, which not only verifies the
apothegm of Keats, that "A thing of beauty is a joy forever,"
but is a positive relnforcement to the productive capacity of
the farm.
I hope this narration will induce some- I wish it might
induce many -  to plant trees, and especially evergreens.
Not merely as ornamental drapery to dwellings, but as mollifiers of the harshness of our capricious climate, they have a
value as yet too narrowly appreciated. A few choice trees,
just old enough to transplant, cost but a trifle; and whoever
plants a dozen such judiciously, and shields them from injury, has provided a source of healthful enjoyment, not only
for his own lifetime, but for that of generations yet to be.
But we need tree-planting on a broader scale than this.
WVherever a ledge or giant rock impedes thorough tillage, there
should be a tree, if not trees. Men of means and of thrift
should buy up sterile tracts that are offered for sale at low
rates, and promptly cover them with White Oak, Hickory,
White Pine, Locust, Chestnut, &c. They can no otherwise so
safely and profitably invest their means for the benefit of
their children, while benefiting also future generations. Timber grows steadily dearer and dearer; streams become desolating torrents at intervals, and beds of dry sand and pebbles
for weeks in Summer and Fall, because our hills have been
too generally stripped and denuded of trees. Let us unitedly
cease to do evil and learn to do well in relation to trees.
301 
XXXVII.
MY FARMING.
T HOSE who have read my account of my farm will have
judged that it is not well calculated to enrich its owner
by large, easily produced crops, and that it was bought in full
view of this fact. I wanted a place near a railroad station,
and not too far from the city; my wife wanted pure air,
agreeable scenery, reasonable seclusion, but, above all, a
choice, never-failing spring, a cascade, and evergreen woods,
as I have already stated. Having found these on the thirtyodd acres which comprised our original purchase, we were
not so unreasonable as to expect to secure also the fertility
and facility of a dry, gently rolling Western prairie, or of a
rich intervale of the Connecticut or Hudson. We knew that
our upland was in good part hard, steep, and rocky, and that
its productive capacity -never remarkable- had been largely
reduced by two centuries of persistent and often excessive
pasturing. Sheep may thus be fed a thousand years, yet return to the soil nearly as much as they take from it; not so
with milch cows, when their milk is sent away to some city,
and nothing returned therefor that enriches the fields whence
that milk, in the shape of grass or hay, was drawn.  And so,
measurably, of Fruit: whereas Apples have long been a leading staple of our region,- Newcastle having formerly boasted
more Apple-trees than any township of its size in America.
But an Apple-tree cannot forever draw on the bank of Nature
without having its drafts protested, if nothing is ever deposited there to its credit; and caterpillars have so long been
allowed to strip most of our trees unresisted, that many have 
MY FARilMING.
grown prematurely old and moss-covered. One year with
another, Newcastle does not grow half so many Apples as her
trees call for; and she never will till she feeds her trees better and fights their enemies with more persistent resolution
than she has done. I have seen five thousand of those trees,
in the course of a brief morning ride in June, with more
caterpillars than remaining leaves per tree; and very little
reflection can be needed to show that trees so neglected for a
few years will have outlived their usefulness.
The woods are qy special department.  Whenever I can
save a Saturday for the farm, I try to give a good part of it
to my patch of forest.   The axe is the healthiest implement that man ever handled, and is especially so for habitual
writers and other sedentary workers, whose shoulders it
throws back, expanding their chests, and opening their
lungs.  If every youth and man, from fifteen to fifty years
old, could wield an axe two hours per day, dyspepsia would
vanish from the earth, and rheumatism become decidedly
scarce. I am a poor chopper; yet the axe is my doctor and
delight. Its use gives the mind just enough occupation to
prevent its falling into revery or absorbing trains of thought,
while every muscle in the body receives sufficient, yet not
exhausting, exercise. I wish all our boys would learn to love
the axe.
I began by cutting out the Witch Hazels, and other trash
not worth keeping, and trimming up my trees, especially the
Hemlocks, which grow limbs clear to the ground, and throw
them out horizontally to such a distance that several rods of
ground are sometimes monopolized by a single tree.  Many of
these,lower limbs die in the course of time, but do not fall off;
on the contrary, they harden and sharpen into spikes, which
threaten your face and eyes as if they were bayonets. These
I have gradually cut away and transformed into fuel. Many
of my Hemlocks I have trimmed to a height of at least fifty
feet; and I mean to serve many others just so, if I can ever
find time before old age compels me to stop climbing.
But the Hemlock so bristles throughout with limbs that it
303 
P{ECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
can easily be climbed by a hale man till he is seventy; and,
working with a hatchet or light axe, you commence trimming
at the top, -that is, as high as you choose to trim, - and,
without difficulty, cut all smooth as you work your way down.
Limbs to the ground may be graceful in the edge of your
wood; but your tree will not make timber nearly so fast as
if trimmed, and you cannot afford it so much space as it
claims in the heart of your patch of forest.
If I linger proudly among my trees, consider that here most
of my farm-work has been done, and here my profit has been
realized, in the shape of health and vigor. When I am asked
the usual question, "How has your farming paid?"  I can
truthfully answer that ray part of it has paid splendidly, being, all income and no outgo, - and who can show a better
balance-sheet than that?
Seriously - I believe there is money to be made by judicious tree-planting and forest-culture, now that railroads have
so greatly cheapened the cost of transportation. If any man
has or can buy a tract of woodland, or land too poor or
broken to be profitably tilled, let him shut out cattle, and
steadily plant choice trees while rutting out poorer; let him
cut every tree that stops growing and begins to decay, or shed
its limbs; let him not hesitate to thin as well as trim up; let
him cut out Red Oak, for instance, and sow the acorns of
White; let him, when half a dozen or more sprouts start from
a single stump, cut away all but two or three, and by and by
cut again; and I am confident that he may thus grow timber
twice as rapidly as where it is neglected, and grow trees far
more valuable than those that come by chance.  Nay: if
near a city, he can make a thousand dollars far more easily,
though less quickly, by growing Timber than by growing
Grain.
The land I ultimately bought included part of an old orchard, which I estimated worth a little more than the firewood that might be made of it; but there I was mistaken.
Old Apple-trees, never grafted, or grafted with indifferent
304  
ilk,,            od
NVIOSI N'rlle Wool).
I
J"Zli,li'. 
MY FARMING.
fruit, and which have been suffered to grow out of proper
shape to a height of forty or fifty feet, so that caterpillars
flourish in their tops with impunity, are simply nuisances.
If you buy or inherit such, cut them down remorselessly
the moment you can obtain fruit for your own use from
others.
On the land I first purchased was a young orchard of two
acres, mainly Russets, -small fruit, but  not inviting to
worms, while it keeps splendidly, -in fact, hardly becomes
eatable till April or May.  The  Russet yields bounteously
and pretty constantly; so that, if I were planting for profit
in this region, I should give this sort the preference.   I
should carefully avoid the common error (which I, when
greener, committed) of planting many sorts together; indeed,
I would prefer to have but one sort in an orchard, for the
convenience of gathering and marketing.
My young orchards are just fairly beginning to bear. The
ground was not ploughed so deeply as it should be, -in fact,
the ground on which Apple-trees are to be set should be
trenched three feet deep,- but it has been well fertilized; and
I hope for good crops in the years close at hand.
In the little dell or glen through which my brook emerges
from the wood wherein it has brawled down the hill, to dance
across a gentle slope to the swamp below, is the spring,pure as crystal, never-failing, cold as you could wish it for
drink in the hottest day, and so thoroughly shaded and sheltered that, I am confident, it was never warm and never
frozen over.  MAany springs on my farm are excellent, but
this is peerless.  It determined the location of my house,
which stands on a little plateau or bench of level ground halfway down the hill, some twenty rods north of, and forty feet
higher than, itself.  I never saw a sweeter spot than was
the little plat of grass which my house has supplanted, with
tall woods all around, and a thrifty growth of youlng hemlocks starting thickly just west and south of it. I do not
now regard this as a judicious location: it is too much shaded
and shut in; it is too damp for health in a wet time; it
20
305 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
tempts the chimney to smoke, especially when the atmosphere is so heavy that the wind beats down over the wooded
hill that rises directly on the north and east; but the hottest
day is cool here; dust is unknown; and no rumble from any
highway disturbs meditation or piques curiosity. My house
is not much, -hastily erected, small, slight, and wooden, it
has at length been almost deserted for one recently purchased
and refitted on the edge of the village, just where my private
road emerges from the farm, on its way to the station; but
thie cottage in the woods is still my house, where my books
remain, where I mean to garner my treasures, and wherein I
propose to be "at home" to my friends at stated seasons, and
"not at home" to any one when I address myself to work,
and especially to the consummation of a yet unaired literary
project. But these are dreams, which opportunity may never
be afforded to realize. As yet, I am a horse in a bark-mill,
and tread his monotonous round; never finding time to do
lo-day what can possibly be postponed to the morrow.
The woodless portion of my upland has been patiently improved by digging, blasting, and picking out rock and stone,
by running under-drains where they seemed to be needed, by
ploughing deeper than it was ever ploughed before, though
not yet nearly deep enough, and by persistent fertilizing with
composted swamp muck, lime, salt, gypsum, bone-dust, and
artificial, as well as mineral, manures, until it is to-day in very
fair condition, or only needs deepening six to twelve inches
more to make it so. Already, it produces almost unfailingly
good crops of Indian Corn, Oats, Turnips, and especially of
Grass. I have repeatedly grown fair crops of Wheat, especially
of Spring, and never decidedly failed but once. Most of our
lands that have long been devoted to the production of milk
are in special need of phosphates, which are most readily
supplied in the shape of ground bones,- the finer the better.
With land in proper condition, Wheat is as sure a crop in
Southern New York as in Wisconsin or Minnesota. Roots
have generally done well with me on ground properly prepared; but the Potato is an exception; and I doubt that it
306 
~'~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~'
k,
MY PRESEN'I' HO'.IIE. 
4 R 
MY FARMING.
will hereafter produce so plenteously on our seaboard as on
the breezy slopes of the Green Mountains, the Catskills, or of
our high inland counties like Madison or Steuben.
My swamp (whereof successive purchases have increased
the area to fully twenty acres) has been my chief difficulty.
Originally, a muddy, oozy fen, thickly dotted with "hassocks"
or "tussocks" of coarse bog-grass, I have cut these and (tired
of awaiting their natural decay) burned them to fertilizing
ashes for my upland; have seamed the entire flat with underdrains; have cut down the little runnel that permeated its
centre, and the open ditch that for some distance ran parallel
to it on the east, collecting the waters of a dozen springs;
obliged to join it ere it was lost in my brook, that comes
brawling down my hillside, and have spared no effort, grudged
no cost, to render it completely arable. But the fall is so
slight, not only on my own land, but for nearly a mile below
it, that my success is still partial and unsatisfactory. Though
I have been allowed to straighten, as well as deepen, the
brook on my neighbors' land, below me, I am still flooded at
intervals with back-water, which chokes my drains and
threatens to inundate my fattest acres.  If I live, I shall
surely triumph in the end; and I am now profiting by the
engineering of Mr. James Gall, whose experience in the Central (New York) and Prospect (Brooklyn) Parks is of decided
value. But a good outlet, or. fall, is so essential to easy success in draining, that every one who shall hereafter attempt
to drain a swamp ought to begin with this, and be sure of -at
least two feet fall from his lowest point at flood-time in
Spring before he cuts his first drain.   Of all unprofitable
work, burying tiles where water will run sometimes one way,
sometimes the other, until they choke with mud and become
utterly useless, is most discouraging. But thorough underdraining is the basis of all lasting improvement in farm or
garden culture; and we should either drain our swamps
thorou,ghly, or provide for flooding them in Winter and lay
them down to cranberries. I do not doubt that this latter
is in many cases the wiser disposition, except where the
307 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
vicinity of a city or village forbids it, from due regard to
others' health. But my swamp is close by a hamlet which
is soon to be quite a village: so it must and shall be drained;
and, that thoroughly done, it will be cheap at five hundred
dollars per acre, since it needs little but draining to assimilate
it in fertility to a patch of Western prairie. If I live, it shall
yet come to.
My Barn.
My barn is a fair success. I placed it on the shelf of my
hill, nearest to the upper (east) side of my place, because a
barn-yard is a manufactory of heavy fertilizers from materials
of lesser weight; and it is easier to draw these down hill than
up. I built its walls wholly of stones gathered or blasted
from the adjacent slope, to the extent of four or five thousand
tons, and laid in a box with a thin mortar of (little) limne and
(much) sand, filling all the interstices and binding the whole
into a solid mass, till my walls are nearly one solid rock,
308 
MY FARMINLG.
while the roof is of Vermont slate. I drive into three stories,
-a basement for manures, a stable for animals, and a story
above this for hay -while grain is pitched into the loft or
"scaffold" above, from whose floor the roof rises steep to a
height of sixteen to eighteen feet. There should have been
more windows for light and air; but my barn is convenient,
while impervious to frost, and I am confident that cattle are
wintered in it at a fourth less cost than when they shiver
in board shanties, with cracks between the boards that
will admit your hand. No part of our rural economy is
more wasteful than the habitual exposure of our animals to
pelting, chilling storms, and to intense cold. Building with
concrete is still a novelty, and was far more so ten years ago,
when I built my barn. I could now build better and cheaper;
but I am glad that I need not. I calculate that this barn
will be abidingly useful long after I shall have been utterly
forgotten; and that, had I chosen to have my name lettered
on its front, it would have remained there to honor me as a
builder, Tong after it had ceased to have any other significance.
"You will be sick of living in the country within two
years," I was confidently told when I bought; "'and your
place will be advertised for sale" "Then the sheriff's name
will be at the foot of the advertisement," I responded. The
mere fact that I am not yet sick of it proves nothing, since I
only try to spend Saturdays upon it, and am often unable to
do even that; but my wife, who spends most of each year
there, and has done so ever since it was bought, is equally
constant in her devotion; and the bare idea of exchanging
our place for any other has never yet suggested itself to either
of us.  With a first-rate stone or brick house to shut out the
cold, I doubt if either of us would, of choice, live elsewhere,
even in Winter.  For, while the young may love to wander,
and may feel that they enjoy the fragrance of others' flowers,
the stately grace of their woods, I think we all, as we grow
old, love to feel and know that some spot of earth is pecu
309 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
liarly our own, - ours to possess and to enjoy,- ours  to
improve and to transmit to our children.  As we realize the
steady march of years in the thinning of our blanched locks,
the deepening of our wrinkles, we more and more incline to
shun travel and crowds and novelties, and concentrate our
affections on the few who are infolded by "that dear hut, our
home."
"But what of the profits of your farming?  You have said
nothing of them," I often hear. Well: it is not yet time to
speak of them,-in fact, they are, as yet, unspeakably small.
Thus far, I have been making a farm, rather than working
one; and the process is not yet complete. The first Appletrees of my planting, are just beginning to bear; my best land,
having been recently bought, and as yet imperfectly drained,
is still unproductive. Nor do I expect that farming - or
anything else - will pay without better oversight than I have
yet been able to accord it.
"Do you not perceive," said one near to me, "that your
man there does not more than half work?"  "Certainly," I
replied; "I am quite aware of it.  Were he disposed to be
efficient, he would work his own land, not mine." You can
scarcely hire any work well done, to which you cannot give
personal attention. Publishing newspapers by proxy would
be still more ruinous than farming.
But I close with a confident assertion that good farming
WILL pay-yes, does pay-right here by New York,- pay
generally, and pay well.   Of course, he who lacks capital
must work to disadvantage' in this as in everything else; and
a little capital will go further in the Far West than on the
crowded seaboard; but I feel certain that even I could make
money by farming in Westchester County, if I could give my
time and mind to it; and that a good farmer, with adequate
means, can, in following his vocation, do as well near this city
as a reasonable man could expect, or wisely desire.
310 
XXXVIII.
"SEWARD, WEED, AND GREELEY."
S I had first engaged conspicuously in political strife at
the invitation of Mr. Thurlow Weed, and had thus been
brought, very soon afterward, into familiar and confidential
relations with his next friend, Mr. William H. Seward, I was
measurably identified with, if not thoroughly devoted to, their
mutual fortunes, for the next fifteen or sixteen years. While
editing The Jeffersonian in Albany, I wrote and reported (imperfectly) legislative proceedings for Mr. Weed's paper, The
Albany Evening Journal; and, though I had no part in
nominating Mr. Seward for Governor in 1838, I did whatever
I could to help elect him; and so at his reelection in 1840.
(He had previously been State Senator, elected in 1830; but
had been badly defeated by William L. Marcy, when first a
candidate for Governor, in 1834.) When, after four years of
obscuration, the Whig star was again in the ascendant, in
1846- 48, I was a zealous, if not very effective, advocate of his
election to the United States Senate.
Apart from politics, I liked the man, though not blind to
his faults. His natural instincts were humane and progressive. He hated Slavery and all its belongings, though a
seeming necessity constrained him to write, in 1838, to this
intensely pro-Slavery city, a pro-Slavery letter, which was at
war with his real, or at least with his subsequent, convictions.
Though of Democratic parentage, he had been an Adams man,
an Anti-Mason, and was now thoroughly a Whig. The policy
of more extensive and vigorous Internal Improvement had no
more zealous champion. By nature, genial and averse to 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
pomp, ceremony, and formality, few public men of his early
prime were better calculated to attract and fascinate young
men of his own party, and holding views accordant on most
points with his.
Yet he had faults, which his accession to power soon displayed in bold relief. His natural tendencies were toward a
government not merely paternal, but prodigal, - one whiQh,
in its multiform endeavors to make every one prosperous, if
not rich, was very likely to whelm all in general embarrassment, if not in general bankruptcy. Few Governors have
favored, few Senators voted for, more unwisely lavish expenditures than he. Above the suspicion of voting money into
his own pocket, he has a rooted dislike to opposing a project
or bill whereby any of his attached friends are to profit. And,
conceited as we all are, I think most men exceed him in the
art of concealing from others their overweening faith in their
own sagacity and discernment.
Mr. Thurlow Weed was of coarser mould and fibre,- tall,
robust, dark-featured, shrewd, resolute, and not over-scrupulous,- keen-sighted, though not far-seeing.  Writing slowly
and with difficulty, he was for twenty years the most sententious and pungent writer of editorial paragraphs on the Amnerican press.
In pecuniary matters, he was generous to a fault while
poor; he is said to be less so since he became rich; but I am
no longer in a position to know. I cannot doubt, however,
that if he had never seen Wall Street or Washington, had
never heard of the Stock Board, and had lived in some yet
undiscovered country, where legislation is never bought nor
sold, his life would have been more blameless, useful, and
happy.
I was sitting beside him in his editorial room soon after
Governor Seward's election, when he opened a letter from a
brother Whig, which ran substantially thus:  "DEAR WEED: I want to be a Bank Commissioner.  You know
how to fix it.  Do so, and draw on me for whatever sum you may
see fit. Yours truly."
312 
"SEWARD, WEED, AND GREELEY."
In an instant, his face became preternaturally black with
mingled rage and mortification.  "My  God!" said he, "I
knew that my political adversaries thought me a scoundrel,
but I never till now supposed that my friends did."  He at
once responded to the overture to this effect:
"SIR:  I have received your letter, and shall lay it before the
Governor elect, with whom it will doubtless have the influence it
deserves. Yours."
Though generally in hearty accord, these fast friends were
not entirely so. Seward, born in comfortable circumstances,
and educated a gentleman, had none of the "Poor White"
prejudice against Blacks; while it was otherwise with Weed,
whose origin and training had been different. My New England birth and Federal antecedents saved me from sharing
this infirmity, to which the poverty and obscurity of my boyhood might else have exposed me.
I was early brought into collision with both my seniors on
the subject of a Ptegistry Law. Every Whig who had been
active in the political contests of this city was instinctively
and intensely a champion of a registration of legal voters;
knowing well, by sad experience, that, in its absence, enormous
frauds to our damage are the rule, and honest and legal voting
the exception. So, in the first legislature of our State that
was Whig all over, a bill was introduced, with my very hearty
assent and active support, which provided for a registration
of voters here; and it had made such headway before it attracted the serious attention of Messrs. Seward and Weed,
that all their great influence could not prevent the Whig
members supporting and passing it. Yet the measure was so
intensely deprecated by them, as tending to alienate the undistinguished poor, and especially those of foreign birth, from
our side, by teaching them to regard the Whigs as hostile to
their rights, that the purpose of vetoing it was fully formed
and confidentially avowed; and, though it was at length
abandoned, and the bill signed, Mr. Weed assured me that
the Governor would have preferred to lose his right hand.
313 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
On one important question, Mr. Weed and I were antipodes.
Believing that a currency in part of paper, kept at par with
specie, and current in every part of our country, was indispensable, I was a zealous advocate of a National Bank; which
he as heartily detested, believing that its supporters would
always be identified in the popular mind with aristocracy,
monopoly, exclusive privilege, &c. He attempted, more than
once, to overbear my convictions on this point, or at least
preclude their utterance, but was at length brought apparently to comprehend that this was a point on which we must
agree to differ.
The political canvass of 1854 in our State was unlike any
other ever known. The advocacy and passage of the Nebraska Bill had disorganized and seriously weakened the
Democrats; the Whig party had wasted to a shadow, yet an
august, imposing, venerable shade; the question of Liquor
Prohibition, grown suddenly prominent by reason of its success in Maine, was rapidly effacing, or at least overriding,
party lines; while the American, or "Know-Nothing" movement had not only a considerable, though ill-defined, genuine
strength, but had attracted crowds of nominal adherents,
intent on diverse special ends. Though the State had been
two or three years under Democratic rule by large majorities,
no one could safely guess how this year's election would result.
I was a member of the first anti-Nebraska or Republican
State Convention, which met at Saratoga Springs in September; but Messrs. Weed and Seward for a while stood aloof
from the movement, preferring to be still regarded as Whigs.
We made no nominations at that time, but provided for a
nominating convention at a later day; meantime, the Whigs
held theirs, and nominated Myron H. Clark for Governor,
with Henry J. Raymond for Lieutenant. The Republicans
and the Prohibitionists severally held conventions thereafter,
and adopted these candidates, finding them all they could
ask.  The Democrats had been rent afresh by their old feud
314 
,SEWARD, W4ED, AND GREELEY."
respecting Slavery in the Territories: the "Softs" running
the incumbent, Horatio Seymour; the "Hards," Greene C.
Bronson, for Governor.' The "American" candidate was
Daniel Ullmann. When the vote was canvassed, it was
found thus divided:
Gov. Clark...... 156,804  Lt.-Gov. Raymond...
Seymour....   156,495             Ludlow (Soft).
Ullmann (Am.)... 122,282             Scroggs (Am.)..
Bronson.....   33,851              Ford (Hard)..
The Whigs had both branches of the Legislature by large
majorities, and they had like majorities for every candidate
on their State ticket but their Governor, who was barely
elected.   And, though the "Americans" claimed many of
the members elect, and with reason, we, who had been laboring to secure the return of Governor Seward to the Senate,
knew that we had succeeded, -that many of the votes confidently counted on by his adversaries were sure for him.
There were some members who actually voted against him,
who would have voted for him had their votes been needed.
When all was beyond contingency, I wrote Governor
Seward a private letter, intended for his eye alone; but the
pointed and misleading allusions to it by certain of the Governor's devoted followers, after his failure to be nominated
for President at Chicago in 1860, impelled me to demand it
for publication, and to print it. It is, verbatimn, as follows: -
HORACE GREELEY TO WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
NEw YORK, Saturday Evening, November 11, 1854.
GOVERNOR SEWARD: The Election is over, and its results sufficiently ascertained.  It seems to me a fitting time to announce
to you the dissolution of the political firm of Seward, Weed, and
Greeley, by the withdrawal of the junior partner,- said withdrawal to take effect on the morning after the first Tuesday in
February next. And, as it may seem a great presumption in me
to assume that any such firm exists, especially since the public
was advised, rather more than a year ago, by an editorial rescript
in The Evening Journal formally reading me out of the Whig party,
that I was esteemed no longer either useful or ornamental in the
315
157,166
128,833
121,037
52,074 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
concern, you will, I am sure, indulge me in some reminiscences
which seem to befit the occasion.
I was a poor young printer and Editor of a Literary Journal,
-a very active and bitter Whig in a small way, but not seeking
to be known out of my own Ward Committee, - when, after the
great Political Revulsion of 1837, I was one day called to the City
Hotel, where two strangers introduced themselves as Thurlow 
Weed and Lewis Benedict, of Albany.  They told me that a cheap
Campaign Paper of a peculiar stamp at Albany had been resolved
on, and that I had been selected to edit it. The announcement
might well be deemed flattering by one who had never even sought
the notice of the great, and who was not known as a partisan
writer; and I eagerly embraced their proposal. They asked me
to fix my salary for the year; I named $ 1,000, which they agreed
to; and I did the work required, to the best of my ability. It
was work that made no figure, and created no sensation; but I
loved it, and I did it well. When it was done, you were Governor,
dispensing offices worth $ 3,000 to $ 20,000 per year to your friends
and, compatriots, and I returned to my garret and my crust, and
my desperate battle with pecuniary obligations heaped upon me
by bad partners in business and the disastrous events of 1837.
I believe it did not then occur to me that some one of these abundant places might have been offered to me without injustice; I
now think it should have occurred to youe. If it did occur to me,
I was not the man to ask you for it; I think that should not have
been necessary. I only remember that no friend at Albany inquired as to my pecuniary circiunstances; that your friend (but
not mine), Robert C. Wetmore, was one of the chief dispensers of
your patronage here; and that such devoted compatriots as A. H.
Wells-and John Hooks were lifted by you out of pauperism into
independence, as I am glad I was not; and yet an inquiry from
you as to my needs and means at that day would have been timely,
and held ever in grateful remembrance.
In the Harrison campaign of 1840, I was again designated to
edit a campaign paper. I published it as well, and ought to have
made something by it, in spite of its extremely low price; my extreme poverty was the main reason why I did not. It compelled
me to hire press-work, mailing, &c., done by the job, and high
charges for extra work nearly ate me up. At the close, I was still
316 
"SEWARD, WEED, AND GREELEY."
without property and in debt; but this paper had rather improved
my position.
Now came the great scramble of the swell mob of coon minstrels and cider-suckers at Washington,- I not being counted in.
Several regiments of them went on from this city; but no one of
the whole crowd - though I say it who should not - had done
so much toward General Harrison's nomination and election as
yours respectfully. I asked nothing, expected nothing; but you,
Governor Seward, ought to have asked that I be postmaster of
New York. Your asking would have been in vain; but it would
have been an act of grace neither wasted nor undeserved.
I soon after started The Tribune, because I was urged to do
so by certain of your friends, and because such a paper was needed
here. I was promised certain pecuniary aid in so doing; it might
have been given me without cost or risk to any one. All I ever
had was a loan by piecemeal of $ 1,00 from James Coggeshall,
God bless his honored memory! I did not ask for this; and I
think it is the one sole case in which I ever received a pecuniary
favor from a political associate. I am very thankful that he did
not die'till it was fully repaid.
And here let me honor one grateful recollection. When the
Whig party under your rule had offices to give, my name was
never thought of; but when, in 1842-43, we were hopelessly out
of power, I was honored with the party nomination for State
Printer. When we came again to have a State Printer to elect as
well as nominate, the place went to Weed, as it ought. Yet it is
worth something to know that there was once a time when it was
not deemed too great a sacrifice to recognize me as belonging to
your household. If a new office had not since been created on purpose to give its valuable patronage to H. J. Raymond, and enable
St. John to show forth his Times as the organ of the Whig State
Administration, I should have been still more grateful.
In 1848, your star again rose, and my warmest hopes were
realized in your election to the Senate. I was no longer needy,
and had no more claim than desire to be recognized by General
Taylor.   I think I had some claim  to forbearance  from  yorl
What I received thereupon was a most humiliating lecture in the
shape of a decision in the libel-case of Redfield and Pringle, and an
obligation to publish it in my own and the other journal of our
.
317 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
supposed firm. I thought, and still think, this lecture needlessly
cruel and mortifying. The plaintiffs, after using my columns to
the extent of their needs or desires, stopped writing, and called on
me for the name of their assailant. I proffered it to them, a
thoroughly responsible name.  They refused to accept it, unless it
should prove to be one of the four or five first men in Batavia!
— when they had known from the first who it was, and that it
was neither of them. They would not accept that which they had
demanded; they sued me instead for money; and money you
were at liberty to give them to your heart's content. I do not
think you were at liberty to humiliate me in the eyes of my own
and your  public as you did. I think you exalted your own
judicial sternness and fearlessness unduly at my expense.    I
think you had a better occasion for the display of these qualities
when Webb threw himself untimely upon you for a pardon which
he had done all a man could do to demerit. (His paper is paying
you for it now.)
I have publicly set forth my view of your and our duty with
respect to Fusion, Nebraska and party designations. I will not
repeat any of that. I have referred also to Weed's reading me out
of the Whig party,- my crime being in this, as in some other
things, that of doing to-day what more politic persons will not be
ready to do till to-morrow.
Let me  speak of the late canvass.   I was once sent to Congress for ninety days, merely to enable Jim Brooks to secure a
seat therein for four years. I think I never hinted to any human
being that I would have liked to be put forward for any place.
But James W. White (you hardly know how good and true a man
he is) started my name for Congress, and Brooks's packed delegation thought I could help him through, so I was put on behind
him.  But this last Spring, after the Nebraska question had
created a new state of things at the North, one or two personal
friends, of no political consideration', suggested my  name  as a
candidate for Governor, and I did not discourage,them. Soon,
the persons who were afterward mainly instrumental in nominating Clark came about me, and asked if I could secure the Know
* If I am not mistaken, this judgment is the only speech, letter, or document, addressed to the public, in which you ever recognized my existence. I
hope I may not go down to posterity as embalmed therein.
318
. 
"SE WARD, WEED, AND GREELEY."
Nothing vote.  I told them I neither could nor would touch it,
on the contrary, I loathed and repelled it.  Thereupon, they
turned upon Clark.
I said nothing, did nothing.   A  hundred people asked  me
who should be run for Governor.  I sometimes indicated Patterson; I never hinted at my own name.    But by and by Weed
came down and called me to him, to tell me why he could not
support me for Governor. (I had never asked nor counted on his
support.)
I am sure Weed did not mean to humiliate me, but he did it.
The upshot of his discourse (very cautiously stated) was this: If I
were a candidate for Governor, I should beat not myself only, but
you.  Perhaps that was true.  But, as I had in no manner solicited
his or your support, I thought this might have been said to my
friends, rather than to me. I suspect it is true that I could not
have been elected Governor as a Whig. But had he and you been
favorable, there would have been a party in the State, ere this,
which could and would have elected me to any post, without injuring myself or endangering your reelection.
It was in vain that I urged that I had in no manner asked a
nomination. At length, I was nettled by his language -well
intended, but very cutting, as addressed by him to me -to say,
in substance, "Well, then, make Patterson Governor, and try my
name for Lieutenant. To lose this place is a matter of no importance, and we can see whether I am really so odious." *
I should have hated to serve as Lieutenant-Governor, but I
should have gloried in running for the post. I want to have my
enemies all upon me at once,- I am tired of fighting them piecemeal. And, although I should have been beaten in the canvass, I
know that my running would have helped the ticket and helped
my paper.
It was thought best to let the matter take another course.
No other name could have been put upon the ticket so bitterly
humbling to me as that which was selected. The nomination was
given to Raymond,- the fight left to me.  And, Governor Seward,
I have made it, though it be conceited in me to say so. What
little fight there has been, I have stirred up. Even Weed has not
been (I speak of his paper) hearty in this contest, while the journal of the Whig Lieutenant-Governor has taken care of its own
319 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
interests and let the canvass take care of itself, as it early declared
it would do. That journal has (because of its milk-and-water
course) some twenty thousand subscribers in this city and its suburbs; and of these twenty thousand, I venture to say, more voted
for Ullmann and Scroggs than for Clark and Raymond; The Tribune
(also because of its character) has but eight thousand subscribers
within the same radius; and, I venture to say that, of its habitual
readers, nine tenths voted for Clark and Raymond, very few for
Ullmann and Scroggs.  I had to bear the brunt of the contest, and
take a terrible responsibility, in order to prevent the Whigs uniting
upon James W. Barker, in order to defeat Fernando Wood. Had
Barker been elected here, neither you nor I could walk these
streets without being hooted, and Know-Nothingism would have
swept like a prairie-fire. I stopped Barker's election at the cost of
incurring the deadliest enmity of the defeated gang, and I have
been rebuked for it by the Lieutenant-Governor's paper. At the
critical moment, he came out against John Wheeler in favor of
Charles H. Marshall (who would have been your deadliest enemy
in the House); and even your Colonel-General's paper, which was
even with me in insisting that Wheeler should be returned, wheeled
about at the last moment,  and went in for Marshall,    The
Tribune alone clinging to Wheeler to the last. I rejoice that they
who turned so suddenly were not able to turn all their readers.
Governor Seward, I know that some of your most cherished
friends think me  a great obstacle to your advancement, -that
John Schooleraft, for one, insists that yo'u and Weed shall not be
identified with me. I trust, after a time, you will not be. I trust
I shall never be found in opposition to you; I have no further
wish but to glide out of the newspaper world as quietly and as
speedily as possible, join my family in Europe, and, if possible,
stay there quite a time,- long enough to cool my fevered brain
and renovate my overtasked energies. All I ask is that we shall
be counted even on the morning after the first Tuesday in February, as aforesaid, and that I may thereafter take such course as
seems best, without reference to the past.
You have done me acts of valued kindness in the line of your
profession,- let me close with the assurance that these will ever
be gratefullyv remmbererd by      Yors
HORACE GREELEY.
HON. WM. H. SEWARD, Present.
320
Yours, 
",SEWARD, WEED, AND GREELEY."
Seeing nothing in this letter that requires explanation, I
simply add that my personal relations with Governor Seward
were wholly unchanged by it. We met frequently and cordially after it was written, and we very freely conferred
and cooperated during the long struggle in Congress for Kansas
and Free Labor. He understood as well as I did that my
position with regard to him, though more independent than it
had been, was nowise hostile, and that I was as ready to
support his advancement as that of any other statesman,
whenever my. judgment should tell me that the public good
required it. I was not his adversary, but my own and my
country's freeman.
In the Spring of 1859, Governor Seward crossed the Atlantic; visiting Egypt, traversing Syria and other portions of
Asia Minor, as well as much of Europe. Soon after his return, he came one evening to my seat in Dr. Chapin's
church, - as he had repeatedly done during former visits to
our city, - and I now recall this as the last occasion on which
we ever met. The Scripture lesson of the evening was the
thirty-first chapter of Proverbs, which recounts the merits
and proclaims the honors of the virtuous woman; enumerating, among the latter, that "Her husband is known in the
gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land."  "Two
months ago," thereupon observed Governor Seward, "I was
travelling in Syria, with. a Turkish firman and other documents, which proclaimed me, I infer, a person of some consequence; since the head functionary of a village where  I
halted and presented my papers received me with the greatest
distinction, and, as a final proof of his regard, invited me to
sit with him in the gate, as, flanked by the elders, lie heard
complaints and defences, and rendered judgment thereon."
So unchanging are the essential habits and usages of the
Asiatics, that foreign conquest - Egyptian, Assyrian, Persian,
Greek, Roman, Saracen, Crusader, and Osmanli- had, along
with more than thirty centuries, rolled their effacing surges
over that region, yet here are the chiefs of the respective
villages or tribes judging the people as of old, surrounded
21
321 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and counselled by the elders; and any eminent stranger is
invited, as a mark of honor, to sit with them, as he was in (or
before) the reign of Solomon.
RPoss Browne found but one man doing anything in Syria;
and he was falling off a house.  It is well to be usefully busy;
yet quiet and tenacious contentment with
"The good old ways,- all ways, when old, are good,"
is not devoid of recommendation, and even advantage.
I have often, during these later years, been unable to agree
with Governor Seward, - have sometimes quite pointedly
dissented from his views of great public questions. It is not
probable that we shall ever again be as near to each other as
we have been. That his ends have ever been patriotic, I will
not doubt; that his means have sometimes been mistaken, I
think his warmest friends must admit. That he once aspired
to the Presidency is a truth, but no reproach; able; wise, and
good men have done so, without impeachment of their patriotism or abatement of their usefulness. Still, one who has
all but clutched the glittering prize, yet failed to secure it,
always thereafter seems to have suffered from the aspiration
or the failure, - possibly from both. Great, intellectually,
as Daniel Webster was, he would have been morally greater,
and every way more useful and honored, had he sternly responded "Get thee behind me, Satan!" to every suggestion
that he might yet attain the Presidency. I hope Mr. Seward
will outlive, if he has not already outlived, his ambition, and
will find leisure and incitement to write of what he has seen
and known during his all but a half-century of devotion to
public affairs. Doubtless, he could clear up points which
now seem obscure and puzzling; and I will hope he would
succeed in showing that, even when most denounced and
execrated, he was, however mistaken, faithful in heart and
purpose to Justice, to Freedom, and the inalienable Rlights of
Man.
3229 
XXXIX.
EUROPE REVISITED. - PARIS. - SWITZERLAND.
N the Autumn of 1854, my wife took passage, with our
two surviving children, for Europe, under a pledge that I
should follow and rejoin her the ensuing Spring. As those
children were less than six and four years old respectively, I
did not believe she had the courage to start on such a journey without me to a continent whereon she had scarcely an
acquaintance; but when I at length said to her, "If you are
really going, I must engage your passage," she replied, "Engage it,. then"; and I did so.  She went accordingly, and
spent the ensuing Winter quietly in London; where I joined
her late in April ensuing. In a few days, I ran over in advance to Paris, where I hired a little cottage just outside of
the then western barrier l'Etoile or octroi gate, which separates the Avenue Champs Elysees from the street outside,
which leads to the Bois de Bolougne, to Passy, and to Neuilly.
Here my wife soon rejoined me with our children, two female
friends, and the husband of one of them; and here we
remained till late in June, visiting the second World's Exposition, the Louvre, the Garden of Plants, the Invalides, Notre
Dame, the Field of Mars, the Madeleine, Pere-la-Chaise, &c.,
&c., and making (or renewing) a very few French with many
American acquaintances.  The Spring was remarkably cold,
backward, cloudy, and rainy,- very unlike our preconceptions of "sunny France," and our enjoyment of Paris did not
fulfil our expectations; yet the six weeks thus spent are fixed
in my memory as the nearest approach to leisure I have
known during the last thirty years. For, though still occu 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
pied, and even busy, throughout nearly every day, I was less
so than in any former six weeks since I first landed in New
York. I spent much time in the Exposition, trying to comprehend it; but I was not a juror, as I had been in London
four years previously, and I did not feel required to study
this Exposition so persistently, so systematically, as I had
studied the former. Besides, it did not impress me so favorably nor interest me so deeply as that did. The edifice was
of stone; hence, far more massive, gloomy, crypt-like, than
the Hyde Park marvel;  and the French seemed to me inferior in the skill required for lucid arrangement and classification. This judgment may have been the dictate of prejudice
or ignorance; I only speak as I felt, and record an abiding
impression. Two hours of impulsive wandering and gazing
in the Paris Exposition fatigued me more than four hours'
steady work as a juror in its London precursor; and I learned
immeasurably more from that of'51 than I did from that of
'55. In fact, the only point on which my little all of knowlecge seems to have been permanently enlarged by the latter
is that I think I obtained here some faint, rude conception
of the peculiarities and merits of the school of art termed
"pre-Raphaelite,"- I cannot say how aptly.  I was deeply,
though not altogether favorably, impressed by the works of
J. E. Millais, Holman Hunt, and other apostles of this school,
whose works here first arrested my attention; and I now recall a picture of "The Dead Ophelia" (by Millais, if I rightly
remember), which evinced a pains-taking fidelity, and made a
vivid, though unpleasant, impression. I trust that this school
has not yet attained its fulness of development, or at least
had not in 1855; if it had, the grand achievements of Raphael, of Titian, and of Murillo are in little danger of being
eclipsed or superseded by those of its disciples or devotees.
Still, the fact remains, that, of the many pictures exhibited in
the Fine Arts division of the Paris Exposition, I remember
none beside so distinctly, so vividly, as those of the British
pre-Paphaelites, so called, though several of the French
painters of our day evince decided merit.
324 
EUROPE REVISITED. -PARIS.-SWITZERLAND. 325
Paris is the Paradise of thoughtless boys with full pockets; but I, if ever thoughtless, had ceased to be a boy some
time ere I first greeted the "gay, bright, airy city of the
Seine." I presume I could now enjoy a week of the careless,
sunny life of her mob of genteel idlers; but a month of it
would sate and bore me.  To rise reluctantly to a late breakfast; trifle away thie day, from noon to 5 P. M., in riding and
sight-seeinlg; dine elaborately; and thenceforward spend the
evening at theare, opera, or party, is a routine that soon tells
on one who is indurated in the habit of making the most of
every working-hour. I envy no man his happiness; I envy
least of all the pleasure-seeker, who chases his nimble, coquettish butterfly, year in, year out, along the Boulevards and
around thie "Places" of the giddy metropolis of France.
And here let me turn aside to say that the very common
aspiration of our young men to spend a year or more in foreign travel seems to me inconsiderate and mistaken. No one
is fit to travel in foreign lands till he has made himself pretty
thoroughly acquainted with his own; and the youth whoignorant of History, of Art, of Languages, and very slenderly
versed even in Natural Science- fancies that he can pay his
way while traversing Europe by writing for the Press, evinces
inordinate, preposterous presumption. If I seem, in saying
this, to condemn myself, so be it; but remember I was more
than forty years old, and had had a full dozen years' familiarity with public affairs, before I set my face toward the Old
World; yet, even thus, I doubt not that my letters abounded
in blunders and yauchecies which a riper knowledge, a better
preparation, for foreign travel, would have taught me to avoid.
As it was, I wrote for a circle of readers of whom many were
glad to look through my eyes because they were mine, - that
is, because, having read my writings for years, they were interested in knowing how Europe would impress me, and what
I should find there to admire or to condemn. Had not this
been the case, - had I addressed readers to whom I was un 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
known or indifferent,- I could not have deemed my letters
worth their attention, nor likely to attract it.
I say, then, most earnestly, to every youth anxious to go
abroad, traverse Europe, and pay his way by writing for some
journal, "Tarry at Jericho till your beard be grown."  I never
knew but one of your class - Bayard Taylor - who achieved
a real success in thus travelling; and he left home a good
type-setter, with some knowledge of modern languages; so
that he stopped and worked at his trade whenever his funds
ran short; yet, even thus, he did not wholy pay his way
during the two years he devoted to his delightful "Views
Afoot." I know it; for I employed and paid him all that his
letters were fairly worth, though not nearly so much as his
letters now righteously command. HIe practised a systematic
and careful economy; yet he Went away with money, and returned with the clothes on his back, and (I judge) very little
more. My young friend, if you think yourself better qualified
than he was, go ahead, and "do" Europe! but don't ask me
to further your scheme; for I hold that you may far better
stay at home, apply yourself to some useful branch of productive industry, help pay our National Debt, and accumulate
a little independence whereon, by and by, to travel (if you
choose) as a gentleman, and not with but a sheet of paper
between you and starvation. It is bad to be ragged and hungry at home; it is infinitely worse to be destitute in a foreign
country, where every one feels that you have no moral right
to subtract from his means or add to his burdens. Even if
willing to be a beggar and a vagabond, be content to burden
your country, and go not abroad to disgrace her! The borrowing Yankee is a nuisance anywhere; but he is a frightful,
hideous pest in those portions of Europe most frequented by
Americans.
If I were to spend a year at leisure in the Old World, I
think I should give a month of it to London, another to the
residue of the British Isles, a third to France, a fourth to Germany, a month to PRome, another to the realm of Victor Emmanuel, or what the Pope terms "the sub-Alpine kingdom,"
326 
EUROPE REVISITED.-PARIS. -SWITZERLAND.  327
and the remaining half of the year to Switzerland, -  not political, but geographical, Switzerland, which includes Savoy
and the Tyrol.  I would cross the ocean in June, land at
Havre or Antwerp, make my way directly to the Alps, and
there remain until driven down their southward sloping vales
by the coming on of Winter.   Then I would descend  to
Milan, pass eastward to Venice, and back, by Bologna and
Florence, to Rome; hieing therefrom to Naples to greet the
advent of Spring; steaming thence to Marseilles, and crossing
France by Lyons and Paris, to finish my tour in Great Britain
and Ireland
I crossed the Alps twice in my former visit to Europe; first
by Mont Cenis, from Lyons to Turin; returning, via Milan,
across the pass of St. Gothard to Lucerne and Basle. The
long June day in which I'traversed, by diligence, Savoy, from
the frontier (alas! the frontier no longer) of France to the
crest of /ont Cenis, is one of the brightest that lives in my
memory; next to that stands that wherein I left Milan at 5
A. M., travelled fifteen miles by rail to Monza, and thence
skirted by diligence Lake Como, crossed into the valley of
the Ticino, which we wound steadily up to the little villa,ge
or hamlet of Airolo, at the foot of the pass of St. Gothard,
very near the upper limit of cultivation. PResting here for
the night, and crossing the summit of the pass about noon,
we rattled down to the Lake of Altorf, whereon a tiny steamboat conveyed us to Lucerne before nightfall. Though the
plains of Italy glowed beneath a July sun, and the Vine, the
Maize, and the Chestnut clung tenaciously to the valley of
the Ticino, still they were successively constrained, by the
increasing cold, to abandon it. We found little besides Oats,
Potatoes, and Grass growing around Airolo; and these forsook us a little further up; so that, at the summit of the pass,
a chill storm was piling new snow upon the still formidable
drifts of the preceding Winter (perchance of a thousand Winters), and the tumbling, roaring brooks were frequently seen
emerging from beneath ice of ample thickness and solidity. 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
On my later visit to Europe, I left'Paris with my family in
June; travelled by rail to Dijon, capital of the kingdom of
Burgundy that was, - the palace of whose kings is now a museum of deeply interesting relics of that monarchy,- and,
after spending a bright day there, we took diligence at 9 P. M.,
were toiling up the Jura next forenoon, and were soon rattling
down their southeastern slope, whence we reached Geneva
before night. Passing thence up the valley of the Arve to
Chamonix, we spent five days there in deeply interested observation of the adjacent peaks and glaciers. I gave one day
to a visit to Montanvert and the Mer de Glace (Sea of Ice),
across which cattle are annually driven - a practical path
being first made by cutting ice and filling crevices - to a
sunny southern slope ("the Garden"), 9,000 feet above tidelevel,'on an adjacent mountain, where they are pastured till
snow falls and lies, and then driven back to the valley whence
they came. The ice of the Mer de Glace is so frequently
seamed with deep cracks and crevices as to afford most unsafe
footing for novices in Alpine pedestrianism; and I, for one,
was glad to turn about, when I had gone but half-way across
it, and regain the solid ground I had eagerly left. You climb
thence nearly a thousand feet to the perch known as Montanvert, whence a good view is had, in clear-weather, of several
lofty peaks, Mont Blanc included; and, when I had thence
made my way down to Chamonix (you ascend on horse or
mule back, but descend slowly on foot), I was as weary as any
one need wish to be.
During my absence on this trip, my wife had undertaken
to visit, with our children, the Glacier de Boissons, which
seems scarcely a mile distant from the hotels at Chamonix,
and easily accessible; but she had failed to reach it, lost her
way, and been obliged to hire a peasant-woman to pilot her,
and carry our fagged-out younger child, back to our hotel.   I
laughed at this misadventure when we met, and volunteered
to lead the party next morning straight up to the glacier
aforesaid, so that they might put their hands on it; but, on
trying it, I failed miserably. So many deep ravines and steep
328 
EUROPE REVISITED.- PARIS. -SWITZERLAND. 329
moraines were found to bar our way, where all seemed smooth
and level from our hotel, and the actual was so much greater
than the apparent distance, that I gave up, after an hour's
rugged dclambering, and contented myself with asserting that
I could reach the glacier by myself, - as I still presume I
could, though I never tried. Either of the great glaciers is so
large that it dwarfs everything around it; belittling obstacles
and distances to an extent elsewhere incredible.
The Glacier des Bois is said to measure over fifty miles
from the giant snow-drift wherein it originates, filling an indentation or gully leading down the east side of Mont Blanc,
to the very bed of the Arve in the Chamonix valley. Indeed,
the Mer de Glace itself may be considered a branch, if not the
principal source, of the little river, and is approached by following up the bed of the stream for a couple of miles or so
above the village, then stepping from one to another of the
giant boulders, brought down by the glacier from the icy
region above, and which here fill the spacious bed of the
stream.  I spent a forenoon here, watching the gradual dissolution of the ice by the warm breath of the valley, and
noting how moraines are made.
A moraine is a ridge or bank of earth and stones, averaging
four to eight feet high, and perhaps ten to twenty in width at
the base, which is uniformly found bordering a glacier on either
side, with one far larger - oftener two or more- at its lower
extremity. It is so unfailingly separated by distances of ten
to twenty feet from the glacier, that the green observer finds
it difficult to comprehend that it is naturally formed of the
points and fragments of rock broken off by the giant masses
of ice in their imperceptible, yet constant, progress - at the
average rate of six feet or so per day -from the snow-drifts
cradled between the higher peaks to the deep valleys, green
with grass, and crimson with Alpine flowers.
But steady observation detects a constant wearing away, in
warm weather, of the lower part of the glacier facing the
valley, and a consequent formation of cavities and channels
therein, whereby the stones are loosened and allowed to pre 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
cipitate themselves. But, while the water falls directly downward, the stones fall outward, or, striking a lower slope of ice,
are so deflected from the perpendicular that they rest at last
at some distance outward from the base of the glacier. Hience
moraines.
We were in Chamonix, I believe, from the 20th to the 25th
of June, - too early by a month.   Snow  fell repeatedly,
though lightly; rain frequently and heavily; the mountaintops were usually shrouded in cloud and fog; and we only
caught a clear view of the summit of Mont Blanc on the
morning of our departure. Swamp Alder (a large shrub with
us) here attaining the size of a considerable tree, so that it is
frequently split into fence-rails; and stretches of meadow,
carpeted and blazing with the deep scarlet of innumerable
flowers, —are among my recollections of that lofty, highwalled valley, so deeply embosomed in the Alps, and so rich
in everything that renders the vicinage of mountains attractive
to civilized man.
Returning to Geneva, we took steamboat on Lake Leman
to Lausanne, whence we journeyed by diligence to Berne, and
were to start thence at 4 one morning for Interlachen and the
Bernese Oberland; but the sudden illness of a child forbade;
and we returned to Lausanne, - a lovely little city, nested
half-way up the side of a long, steep, verdant hill, which
would elsewhere be deemed a mountain, - where I left my
family in a rented cottage, and hastened back, by Neufchatel,
Basle, and Strasburg, to Paris, where business urgently required my presence; leaving France two or three weeks later
for London, Liverpool, and home. I embarked at Liverpool
under a deep impression that something' had gone wrong with
my family (which returned in the Autumn to Paris, thence
repaired to Germany, and spent the ensuing Winter at Dresden; returning, via England, to New York the following
Summer). On reaching home, I learned that my mother had
died on the day of my departure from Liverpool.  Though
330 
EUROPE REVISITED.- PARIS.- SWITZERLAND.  331
but sixty-eig,ht years old, she had long been worn out in mini
and body by hard work and rugged cares, and had rarely
spoken or evinced a clear perception of what was going on
around her for many months before her death.
As this was my last passage of the Atlantic, I may barely
say that, of all my experiences of protracted physical discomfort, sea-sickness is decidedly the most vivid and enduring.
Though not now so easily prostrated as when I first traversed,
per steamboat, a corner of Lake Erie, over forty years ago, I
am never tossed on ocean billows without intense misery; and,
while my first sea-passage was decidedly my worst, owing
to the tempestuous weather which prevailed throughout, yet
my very latest reminiscence of the "stormy main " -that of
my passage from Aspinwall, via Key West, to this city in
September, 1859- is just the reverse of "a joy forever."
The Caribbean Sea is not often furrowed so deeply as the
Atlantic;. but its coral reefs, its weeping skies, its high temperature, with the crowds which usually throng its California
steamers, make it a terror to the land-lubbers from whom
Neptune exacts tribute so persistently and distressingly as
from me, to whom an ocean voyage is never an enjoyment, is
seldom less than a torture.  What science and mammoth ships
may do for us, I will not predict; but he who shall teach us to
vanquish sea-sickness will deserve to be honored and crowned
as one of the greatest benefactors of the human race. 
XL.
TWO DAYS IN JAIL.
TIIERE are many ways of studying human nature; many
diverse lights wherein this motley world is or may be
contemplated; I judge that one of the most instructive
glimpses of it is that which we obtain through grated windows. I forget, this moment, who characterizes the poet of
beggary and ruffianism, Crabbe, as
" ature's sternest painter, but the best";
yet I am quite sure that one of the most wholesome and profitable, though least pleasant, experiences of my life, is that
afforded by my confinement for forty-eight hours (with a good
prospect of permanence) in the spacious debtors' prison in
Paris, No. 70 Rue de Clichy, known to misfortune as "the
Maison Clichy," and more familiarly to its inmates as "Clichy"
merely. It happened thus -
In the years 1852 - 53, an association of mainly wealthy
and public-spirited New-Yorkers undertook to imitate, if not
rival, the first great Exposition of the World's Industry at
London in 1851. So they subscribed capital, obtained a
charter from the State, and. a plot of vacant ground from the
city, employed architects and builders, and at length constructed on Reservoir Square (Sixth Avenue and Fortieth to
Forty-second Streets), by far the most symmetrical and spacious edifice which our country has yet seen. The materials
employed were almost wholly iron and glass, as in the case of
its London prototype; but, though the British was a superb
structure, ours was still more graceful and imposing. I doubt
that many are yet born who will see New York graced by a 
TWO DAYS IN JAIL.
finer building than was her Crystal Palace, until destroyed by
fire in 1858.
Yet the Exhibition was doomed to failure from the start.
It was located much too far up town, - as much out of the
way as it would to-day be at Harlem or Hioboken,- it was
but half finished, and nowise ready, when opened, - and it
steadily dragged, after the first few days, until, at the close of
the season, it was found that the million or more of capital
stock was all sunk, and the half-million of bonds a very dubious investment.
A desperate effort was made to retrieve its fallen fortunes
next Spring; and I, with others, was then induced to take a
hand in it as a director and (in a small way) bondholder.
Mlr. P. T. Barnum was our most active, efficient leader in this
desperate effort at resurrection.   There were several more
directors who did their very best; but the year (1854) was
one of pecuniary pressure and revulsion, which combined with
other influences to render success impossible. I gave much
hard work and a little money to the attempt, while Mr. Barnum gave much more, but to no purpose; we barely paid our
heavy current expenses; and the Exposition closed with the
season, nearly as bankrupt as when we undertook to resuscitate it.
I went to Europe the next Spring (1855) without a suspicion that I should there be held accountable for our inability
to wrest victory from defeat; yet, about 4 P.M. of the 2d day
of June, after I had returned from a day's observation in the
French "Palace of Industry," I was waited on at my little
cottage by four French strangers, who soon gave me to understand that they were officers of the law, bearing a writ issued
by Judge de Belleyme, of the Court of Premier Instance, at
the suit of one M. Lechesne, a Parisian sculptor, who swore
that he had contributed to our New York Exhibition a statue
(in'plaster) which had there been broken, or mutilated; for
which he claimed of me, as a director, "represontant et solidaire," of the Exhibition, "douze mille francs," or $ 2,500 in
gold. When we had, by the help of my courier, arrived at
333 
.RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
some approach to a mutual understanding, one element of
which was my refusal to pay M. Lechesne $ 2,500, or any sum
whatever, they said that I must enter their carriage and accompany them forthwith to the Judge, some three miles away;
which, attended by my courier, I did. We had to call for
Lechesne and his lawyer by the way, which consumed nearly
an hour, -they being in no -hurry; and, when we had told
the Judge our respective stories, I proposed to go to the
American Legation and persuade Don Piatt, Esq., Secretary
of Lecgation, to guarantee my appearance for trial when wanted.
The Judge pronounced this sufficient; so we set forth on
another long ride to the Legation; where not only Judge Piatt,
but another friend, Maunsel B. Field, Esq., offered himself as
security for my appearance at'court; but now Lechesne and
his lawyer refused, on the ground of Mr. Piatt's exemption
from arrest on civil process, to take him as security, or (in
fact) to take anything but the cash they were intent on.
High words passed, and a scuffle was imminent, when I insisted on being driven at once to prison, - my guardians
having affected a fear that I would escape them. Crossing
the Avenue Champs Elysee, densely thronged at that hour
(6 P. M.), our carriage came into violent collision with another,
and was disabled; when a very superfluous display of vigilance and pistols was made by my keepers, who could not be
persuaded that I was intent on sticking to them like a brother.
At last, a little before 7 P. M., we reached our destination, and
I was admitted, through several gigantic iron doors, with
gloomy crypts between them, to the office of the prison, where
I was told that I must stay till 91 P. M., because the Judge
had allowed me so long to procure bail. Here my guardians
left me in safe-keeping, while I ordered a frugal dinner, instead of the sumptuous public one at the Trois Freres, given
by Mr. M. B. Field, which I had been invited, and had fully
expected, to attend; and I sent my courier home to quiet the
apprehensions of my family, who as yet knew only that some
strangers had called for me, and that I had gone off with them.
Very soon, Judge Mason (John Y.), our Ambassador, called,
334 
TWO DAYS IN JAIL.
and was admitted to see me, though it was now too late by
the regulations. I explained the matter to him, assured him
that I wanted nothing but a good lawyer, and insisted on
viewing the whole matter in a more cheerful light than it
wore in his eyes.  "But your wife will surely be distressed
by it," he urged; "she being an utter stranger here, with two
young children."  "No," I replied; "a trifle might annoy
her; but this matter looks serious, and it will only calm and
strengthen her.  I have sent our courier to assure her that it
is all right, and request her to keep away from this, and go
on with her visiting and sight-seeing, as though nothing had
happened." "I have heard you called a philosopher, and I
now.see that you deserve the distinction," was the Judge's
rejoinder, as, at my request, he left me.
Half an hour had scarcely passed, giving me barely time to
eat my dinner, when my wife was ushered in, accompanied
by Mrs. Piatt and our little son, whose eyes were distended
with grave wonder at the iron barriers through which he had
reached ue.  "Good woman," I observed to Mrs. Greeley, "I
have been bragging to Judge Mason how quietly you would
take this mischance; but here you are in jail at nightfall,
when visitors are not allowed, as though you were addicted
to hysterics."  "But consider," she urged in mitigation, "that
I first heard of your position from Francis [our courier], who
comes flying home to assure me that there is nothing serious,
to urge me not to be frightened, when he is trembling all over
with anxiety and terror. Hardly had he left the room, when
Mrs. Piatt comes in equal haste to beg me to fear nothing, -
that all is but a trifle,- and she is quite as agitated and panicstricken as Francis. Neither of them seems to understand
the matter; so I thought I must come to you for an explanation." This I gave; when they departed; and I was at last
allowed to go up to my lodging, which I find thus described
in my letter thence to The Tribune:  "By 10 o'clock, each of us lodgers had retired to our several
apartments (each eight feet by five), and an obliging functionary
came around and locked out all rascally intruders. I don't think
335 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
I ever before slept in a place so perfectly secure. At 6 this
morning, this extra protection was withdrawn, and each of us was
thenceforth required to keep watch over his own valuables. We
uniformly keep good hours here in Clichy, which is a virtue that
not many large hotels in Paris can boast of.
"The bedroom appointments are not of a high order, as is
reasonable, since we are only charged for them four sous (cents)
per night, - washing extra. The sheets are rather of a hickory
sort, but mine were given to me clean; the bed is indifferent, but
I have slept on worse; the window lacks a curtain or blind, but in
its stead there are four strong upright iron bars, which are a perfect safeguard against getting up in the night, and falling or pitching out, so as to break your neck, as any one who fell thence would
certainly do. (I am in the fifth or highest story.) Perhaps one
of my predecessors was a somnambulist. I have two chairs, two
little tables (probably one of them extra, through some mistake),
and a cupboard which may once have been clean. The pint washbowl, half-pint pitcher, &c., I have ordered, and am to pay extra
for.  I am a little ashamed to own that my repose has been indifferent; but then I never do sleep well in a strange place."
As it was Saturday evening when I was taken to jail, I
could not expect a release before Monday; in fact, the lawyers
who were applied to in my behalf had all gone out of town,
and could not be found till that day. I rose on Sunday morning in a less placid frame of mind than I had cherished overnight, and devoted a good part of the day to concocting an
account of the matter meant to be satirical, and to "chaff"
mankind in general by contrasting the ways of Clichy with
those of the outside world, to the dispraise of the latter.  Here
is a specimen: -
"I say nothing of' Liberty,' save to caution outsiders in France
to be equally modest; but'Equality' and'Fraternity' I have
found here more thoroughly than elsewhere in Europe. Still, we
have not realized the social millennium, even in Clichy. Some of
us were wont to gain our living by the hardest and most meagrely
rewarded labor; others to live idly and sumptuously on the earnings of others.  Of course, these vices of an irrational and decaying
social state are not instantly eradicated by our abrupt transfer to
336 
TWO DAYS IN JAIL.
this mansion. Some of us can cook; while others only know how
to eat, and so require assistance in the preparation of our food, as
none is cooked or even provided for us, and our intercourse with
the outer world is subject to limitations. Those of us who lived
generously aforetime, and are in for gentlemanly sums, are very
apt to have money; while the luckless chaps who were sent here
for owing a beggarly hundred francs or so, and have no fixed income
beyond the single franc per day which each creditor must pay, or
his debtor is turned loose, are very glad to earn money by doing
us acts of kindness. One of these attached himself to me immedi ately on my induction into my apartment, and proceeded to make
my bed, bring me a pitcher of water and wash-bowl, matches,
lights, &c., for which I expect to pay him,    these articles being
reckoned superfluities in Clichy. But no such aristocratic distinction as master -  no such degrading appellation as servant- is
tolerated in this community: this philanthropic fellow-boarder is
known to all here as my'auxiliary.' Where has the stupid world
outside known how to drape the hard realities of life with fig-leaf
so graceful as this 
"So of ll titular distinctions.  We pretend that we have abjured
titles of honor in America; and the consequence is that every one
has a title, -  either'Honorable,' or'General,' or'Colonel,' or
'Reverend,' or, at the very least,'Esquire.'   But here in Clichy
all such empty and absurd prefixes or suffixes are absolutely unknown; even names, Christian or family, are discarded as useless,
antiquated lumber. Every lodger is known by the number of his
apartment only, which no one thinks of designating a cell. Mine
is 139: so, whenever a friend calls, he gives two cents to a' commissionaire,' who comes in from the outer regions to the great hall
sacred to our common use, and begins calling out cent-trente-neuf
(phonetically'-son-tran-nuf') at the top of his voice, and goes on,
yelling as he climbs, in the hope of finding or calling me short of
ascending to my fifth-story sanctuary. To nine-tenths of my comrades in adversity I am known only as' son-tran-nuf.' My auxiliary is No. 54; so I, when I need his aid, go singing'sankon-cat,'
after the same fashion. Equality being thus rigidly preserved,
maugre some diversities of fortune, the jealousies, rivalries, and
heart-burnings, which keep the mass of mankind in a ferment, are
here absolutely unknown. I never before talked with so many
22
337 
3RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
people intimate with each other without hearing something said or
insinuated to one another's prejudice; here, there is nothing of the
sort. Some folks outside are fitted with reputations which they
would hardly consider flattering,- some laws and usages get the
blessing they so richly deserve,- but among ourselves is naught
but harmony and good-will. How would the Hotel de Ville, or even
the Tuileries, like to compare notes with us on this head  "
A Yankee prisoner, who had seen me in New York, recognized me as I came down stairs on Sunday morning, and
blazoned his inference that I was in jail by some mistake,
so I was soon surrounded by sympathizing fellow jail-birds,
several of whom were no more justly liable to imprisonment
than I was. In a little while, M. Vattemare, well known in
his day as the projector of systematic international exchanges
of books and documents, having heard of my luck at Mr.
Field's dinner the evening previous, made his way in, with
proffers of service, which I turned to account by obtaining,
through him, from some great library, copies of the Revised
Statutes and Session Laws of New York, which clearly demonstrated mylegal irresponsibility to M. Lechesne for his damaged
statue. Soon, other friends began to pour in, with offers of
money and service; but I could not afford to be bailed out nor
bought out, as fifty others would thereby be tempted to repeat
M. Lechesne's experiment upon me, - so I was compelled to
send them away, with my grateful acknowledgments.
Among  my visitors was M. Hector Bossange, the wellknown publisher, who had been accustomed to call at my
rooms each Sunday, as he did on this one, and was soon asked
by my wife, "Have you seen Mr. Greeley?"  "Seen him!"
he perplexedly responded, "I do not understand you; have
I not called to see him?"  "Then you have not heard that
he is in prison?"  "In prison?" he wildly inquired; "what
can that mean?"  "I do not well understand it myself," she
replied; "but it has some connection with our New York
Crystal Palace."  "O, it is money,- is it?" joyfully rejoined
M. Bossange; "then we will soon have him out, - I feared it
was politics!"  He knew that I was a furious anti-Imperialist,
338 
TWO DAYS IN JAIL.
and feared that I had rashly involved myself in some plot
that exposed me to arrest as an apostle of sedition,- an
enemy of "Order."
Our remaining visitors having been barred out when the
clock struck 4 P. M., we two Americans, with two Englishmen,
a Frenchman, and an Italian, sent out our order, and had our
dinner in the cell of one of us, who, being an old settler, had
an apartment somewhat more roomy and less exalted than
mine.  Each brought to the common "spread" whatever he
had of table-ware or pocket-cutlery; and the aggregate, though
there were still deficiencies, answered the purpose. The dinner cost fifty cents per head, of which a part went as toll to
some officer or turnkey, and there was still a good margin of
profit to the restaurateur. Still, there was wine for those who
would drink it; but stronger liquors are not allowed in Clichy,
in spite of the assurance, so often heard, that prohibitory
legislation is unknown in France. A flask of cut-throat-lookinag brandy had, however, been smuggled in for one of our
party; and this was handed around and sipped as though it
were nectar.  Men love to circumvent the laws for the gratification of their appetites; and yet I judge that not one gill
of spirits is drank in Clichy, where quarts were poured down
while every one was free to order and drink so long as he
could pay.
I presume I had had more calls that day than any other
prisoner, though Sunday is specially devoted to visits; and,
though grateful for the kindness and zeal for my release
evinced by several of my friends, I was thoroughly weary
when the lingerers were invited to take their departure, and
the doors clanged heavily behind them. I could then appreciate the politeness with which M. Ouvrard, Napoleon's great
army-contractor, after he had fallen into embarrassments and
been lodged in Clichy by his inexorable creditors, was accustomed, when visitors called, to send to the grating his faithful
valet, who, with the politest bow and shrug whereof he was
master, would say, "I am sorry, sir, - very sorry; but my
master, M. Ouvrard, is out."  This was not even the "white
#0
339 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
lie" often instigated by good society; since the visitor could
not fail to understand that the great bankrupt could be out in
none other than that conventional, metaphorical sense which
implies merely preoccupation, or unwillingness to be buttonholed and bored.
No prisoner in Clichy is obliged- to see a visitor unless of
his own choice; and, as one is frequently called down to the
grating to have a fresh writ served on him, thereby magnifying the obstacles to his liberation, the rule that a visitor must
make a minute of his errand on his card, and send it up, before
an interview is accorded, is one founded in reason, and very
generally and properly adhered to. Yet a fellow-prisoner,
who received notice that he was called for at' the grate, went
recklessly down on the day after my incarceration, only to
greet a tip-staff, and be served with a fresh writ.  "Sir," said
the beguiled and indignant boarder at this city hermitage,
"if you ever serve me such a trick again, you will go out of
here half killed."  Some official underling was violently suspected of lending himself to this stratagem; and great was
the indignation excited thereby throughout our community;
but the victim had only himself to blame, for not standing on
his reserved rights, and respecting the usages and immunities
of our sanctuary.
I was puzzled, but not offended, at a question put me the
moment I had fairly entered the prison:  "HIave you ever
been confined here before?"   I respectfully, but positively,
replied in the negative,- that this was my first experience of
the kind. I soon learned, however, that the question was a
prescribed and necessary one,- that, if I had ever before been
imprisoned on this allegation of debt, or on any other, and
this had been lodged against me, I was not liable to a fresh
detention thereon, but must at once be discharged. The rule
is a good one; and, though I was unable then to profit by it,
it may serve me another time.
My general conclusion, from all I observed and heard in
Clichy, imports that imprisonment for debt was never a bar
to improvidence, nor a curb to prodigality; that, in so far as
340
t 
TWO DAYS IN JAIL.
it ever aided or hastened the collection of honest debts, it
wrenched five dollars from sympathizing relatives and friends
for every one exacted from the debtors themselves; and that
it was, and could not fail to be, fruitful only in oppression
and extortion,-  much oftener enforcing the payment of unjust
claims than of just ones. Let whoever will sneer at human
progress and uneasy, meddling philanthropy, I am grateful
that I have lived in the age which gave the death-blow to
Slavery and to Imprisonment for Debt.
To get into prison is a feat easy of achievement by almost any
one; it is quite otherwise with getting out. You cannot fully
realize how rigid stone walls and iron doors are till they stand
between you and sunshine, impeding locomotion, and forbidding any but the most limited change of place. The restless
anxiety of prisoners for release, no matter how light their cares,
how ample their apartments, how generous their fare, can
never be.appreciated by one who has not had a massive key
turned upon him, and found himself on the wrong side of an
impregnable wall. Doubtless, we hear much nonsense whereof "Liberty" is the burden; but, if you are sceptical as to the
essential worth of Freedom, just allow yourself to be locked
up for a while, with no clear prospect of liberation at any
specified or definite time. Though I was but forty-eight hours
in Clichy, time dragged heavily on my hands, after the friends
who, in generous profusion, visited me on Sunday had been
barred and locked out, and I was left for a second night to
my fellow jail-birds and my gloomy reflections. "I can't get
out" was the melancholy plaint of Sterne's starling; and I
had occasion to believe that so many detainers or claims similar to Lechesne's would, on Monday, be lodged against me, as
to render doubtful my release for weeks, if not for months.
It was late on Monday morning before my active friends
outside could procure me the help I needed; but, when they
did, I had, through M. Vattemare's valued aid, the books I
required, and had my references and citations all ready for
0
341 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
service.  With these in hand, my lawyers went before Judge
de Belleyme to procure my release; but M. Vattemare had
been there already, as well as to M. de Langle, the judge of
a still higher court, to testify that the Americans were generally indignant at my incarceration, and were threatening to
leave Paris in a body if I were not promptly liberated. Even
M. James Rothschild, I was told, had made an indignant
speech about it at a dinner on Saturday evening; saying to
his friends: "We are most of us directors in the Exposition
now in progress here, and of course liable to be arrested and
imprisoned in any foreign country we may visit, on a coinmplaint that some one has had articles danmaed or lost here, if
Mr. Greeley may be so held in this action."
These representations impelled M. de Belleyme to say, in
perfect truth, that he had not ordered my imprisonment,on the contrary, he had directed the plaintiff and his lawyer
to take Mr. Don Piatt's guaranty that I should be on hand,
when wanted, to respond to this action.   So when, at the
instance of my lawyers, M. Lechesne and his attorney were
called to confront them before the Judge on Monday, and
were asked by him how they came to take me to Clichy,
under the circumstances, they could only stammer out that
they had reflected that Mr. Piatt was not subject to imprisonment in like case,- therefore, his guaranty was no security.
This, of course, did not satisfy the Judge, who ordered my
release on the instant; so by 4 P. M. all formalities were
concluded, and my lawyers appeared with the documents
required to turn me into the street. Meantime, I had had so
many visitors, who sent up good-looking cards, and wore
honest faces, that I had manifestly risen in the estimation of
my jailers, who had begun to treat me with ample consideration.
The neighboring servants, who were intimate with ours, had
witnessed my departure with the officers, and knew, of course,
that this was an arrest, but pretended to our servants not to
understand it. One after another of them would call on our
e6mployges to ask, "Why, where is Mr. Greeley?"  "He has
342
6
I 
TWO DAYS IN JAIL.
gone over to London on a little business," was the prompt
reply, "and will be back in a day or two." This was accepted
with many a sly wink and gentle shrug; the inquisitors having obviously united in the conclusion that I was a swindler,
who had robbed some bank or vault, and fled from my own
country to enjoy the fruits of my depredations. When, however, I came quietly home in a cab about the time indicated
by our servants, they greatly exulted over the hoped-for, rather
than expected, denouement, while their good-natured friends
were correspondingly disconcerted by the failure of their calculations. On our part, we resumed at once our round of
visiting and sight-seeing, as though nothing had happened;
but my little son's flying hair and radiant face, as he rushed
down stairs to greet my return, will not soon be forgotten.
He had been told that it was all right, when he found and
left me in prison, and had tried hard to believe it; but my
return, unattended and unguarded, he knew to be right.
I had a tedious legal squabble thereafter, - for my liberation did not, of course, abate M. Lechesne's suit against me, -
and had to send to New York for documents and affidavits;
meantime going to Switzerland with my family, as I have
already related,-  and I was signally aided in my defence by
Hon. Elihu B. Washburne, of Illinois, who happened to
be in Paris at the time; but, as there was really no case
against me, I was at length enabled to demonstrate that fact
to the satisfaction of the functionary who had been deputed
to hear and report on the suit to the Tribunal of Commerce,
before which I had been cited by Lechesne,-  a proceeding
wholly illegal, Vmy lawyers asserted, as neither party to the
action was a merchant. My counsel wished to demur to the
jurisdiction, saying that the Tribunal was not a court of law,
and always decided for a Frenchman against a foreigner, no
matter how unjustly.  At length, however, when my  documents arrived from New York, they could hold off no longer,
but went before the officer in question, where my opponents
343
I 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
were most reluctant to meet them, asking for time to send to
America for documents also! We understood that this was
only a pretext to avoid a judgment for costs, -they did not
really want to send to America, and did not send. We let
them off on that excuse, however, and I came away, - leaving the suit stone dead.
I rejoice that imprisonment for debt was recently abolished
in France, - I trust forever. I doubt that it ever made one
debtor even outwardly honest; I am sure it often compelled the
relatives and friends of prodigals to pay debts which should
never have been contracted. It is wrong - it is immoral
to trust those who do not deserve credit, - it is doubly wrong
to impose the payment of such debts upon some frugal uncle
or brother of the debtor, in pity for that debtor's weeping wife
and children.  "Let every tub stand on its own bottom " is a
sound rule, which imprisonment for debt tends strongly to
subvert. Men are trusted who should not be, on the calculation, "I can get my pay out of his relatives by putting him
into jail"'; hence tavern-scores and merchants' accounts where
cash down would have precluded extravagance and dissipation. The civilized world is not yet prepared for the repeal
of all laws designed to enforce the collection of simple debts
(not trusts); but this reform must come in due time, when
mankind will wonder why it could so long have been resisted.  False credit-credit to those who do not deserve,
and will be rather harmed than helped by it- is the bane of
our civilization. Every second man you meet is struggling
with debts which he should never have contracted. We need
a legal reform, which will greatly diminish our current facilities for running into debt.'
344 
XLI.
"THE BANKS CONGRESS." - THE LONG CONTEST FOR
SPEAKER.
HAD  often, since the establishment of The Tribune, run
down to Washington for a very few days; but never, save
when for ninety days a member of the House, had I been
tempted to protract my stay there; and my associates had
repeatedly regretted that I could not be induced to spend
more time at the political metropolis.   Reflecting on this,
and on the probabilities of a long and doubtful struggle for
the Speakership of the XXXIVth Congress, I resolved,
while staying in Paris in the Summer of 1855, that I would
visit Washington before the opening of that Congress, and
remain there until requested by my associates in business to
return to New York, -a resolve of which I gave them due
notice. When the roll of the new House was first called, at
noon on Monday, December 3, I was looking on from a
reporter's desk; and I remained in observation for many
weeks thereafter.
That House was constituted as no other has ever yet been
No party had a majority of its members, while two separate
organizations seemed to have.  The "Americans" had chosen
a majority; so had the "Republicans," or opponents of the
policy embodied in the N8braska Bill; but the lines of these
two organizations ran into and crossed each other. We Republicans who were anti-" Know-Nothing" were perfectly
willing to support an anti-Nebraska " American" for Speaker;
but nearly all the Southern "Americans" would support no
candidate who was in principle a Republican. Thus, there 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
was in fact no majority of any party, and a long, bitter, exciting struggle for the organization was inevitable.
The Democrats held a caucus, as usual, and nominated
William A. Richardson, of Illinois, for Speaker; but they
could give him, at the utmost, but 80 votes, and actually did
give him, on the first ballot, but 74.  The Southern "Americans" mainly supported Humplhrey Marshall, of Kentucky,
who had 30 votes on the first ballot; but they were ready to
vote for any Northern "Know-Nothing" who was not in
principle a Republican, and Henry M. Fuller, of Pennsylvania, had 17 votes, mainly from the South. The Republicans
and anti-Nebraska "Americans" had held no caucus and
made no nominations; but they cast, on the first ballot, 53
votes for Lewis D. Campbell of Ohio, 21 for Nathaniel P.
Banks of Massachusetts, 7 for Alexander C. M. Pennington of
New Jersey, and there were 23 scattering votes, mainly theirs.
Four ballots were taken that day, with no material variation
from the foregoing result; when the House adjourned. The
next day, five ballots were taken,- Mr. PRichardson's vote
being increased (by a fresh arrival) to 75, Mr. Banks's to 31,
and Mr. Fuller's (at the expense of Humphrey Marshall's) to
21; when the House again adjourned.  The next day, Mr.
Campbell's vote was run up to 81, at Mr. Banks's expense;
but he thenceforth began to fall off; and on Friday, having
just received 75 votes, he formally declined; stating that he
was satisfied that he could not be elected without either repudiating his well-known American and anti-Nebraska principles, or making pledges regarding the formation of Committees that would justly expose him to public contempt. Mr.
Banks now received 41 votes; thence steadily and rapidly
increasing, until, on the thirty-seventh ballot, he had 107;
still lacking six more to elect him; Richardson having 76 and
Fuller 28, with 13 scattering, mainly Southlern "Americans."
Thenceforth, the struggle went on, with no change but that
caused by occasional absences of members of either party,
generally paired, but relieved by fitful debates on party questions, - sometimes lasting through a day or more, until, on
346 
"BANKS CONGRESS." - CONTEST FOR SPEAKER. 347
the 22d, Mr. Stanton, of Ohio, first moved that a plurality
vote (the highest) should thereafter suffice to elect; which
was promptly laid on the table, by 114 Yeas to 107 Nays,the latter being the Republicans or Banks men, outvoted by
the combined strength of all the other parties. This motion
was repeatedly renewed by Republicans, with no better success; and the House once voted not to adjourn till a Speaker
should be chosen; but, after a tedious and excited night session, this resolve was rescinded, and the debating, with occasional ballotings, continued. On the 27th, so many members,
mainly Southern, had gone home to spend Christmas, that
Mr. Banks needed a change of but 3 votes to elect him,- he
having 100 to 105 for all others. On several of the succeeding, ballots during the holidays, Mr. Banks lacked but 3 and
then 4 votes of a majority; but, as the absent members
returned, the prospect of an election receded. At length, on
the 21st of January, Mr. Albert RPust (since a RPebel Brigadier) of Arkansas moved the following:
"Whereas, One hundred and eighteen ineffectual efforts to elect
a Speaker, in which the votes have been divided among Mr. Banks,
Mr. Richardson, Mr. Fuller, and Mr. Pennington, must have made
it manifest to those gentlemen and this Congress that neither of
them is the choice of a majority of the members of this House
for its presiding officer, and that a longer persistence on the part
of their respective friends in urging their names for this office
will only delay the organization of this House, and thereby prevent immediate legislation, when the common interests of the
whole country require it: Therefore,
"Resolved, That it is the sense of this House that Messrs. Banks,
Richardson, Fuller, and Pennington, by withdrawing their names,
and forbidding their use as candidates for the Speakership, would
remove certain and insurmountable obstacles to its organization,
and that the public interests would be greatly promoted by their
doing so."
Hereupon, Messrs. Fuller and Pennlington promptly gave
notice that they were no longer candidates for Speaker.  Mr.
Rust, finding impediments to their present consideration, 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
withdrew his preamble and resolve, giving notice that he
would reoffer them on the morrow.
I listened to his proposition with intense indignation. It
was based on an assumption notoriously false,- namely, that
the organization of the House was impeded by personal aspirations and rivalries, - when all knew that the conflict was
one of principles, and that Rust himself was invincibly
hostile to Banks only because Banks represented resistance
to the further diffusion of Slavery. And Mr. Banks's supporters, with his hearty concurrence, had once and again
offered to let a plurality choose, so that his and their opponents would be compelled to concentrate their strength or
submit to a defeat. So far as the Republicans were concerned, they had long stood ready and eager to close the contest in the only practicable way; and it was a wrong and an
insult for the antagonist parties, who could not unite on a
candidate, to combine their forces for the purpose of driving
from the field the chosen candidate of the Republicans.
Thfs dictating by one side who should or should not be supported by the other seemed to me a gross outrage; and I so
characterized it in my despatches and letters to The Tribune.
Mr. Rust renewed his proposition on the 23d; when the
House refused to order the main question upon it, and it
went over under the rule to the next day; when, on motion
of Mr. Pringle, of New York, it was laid on the table by 100
to 99.
I believe it was on this day that, just after the House had
adjourned, and while all in attendance were returning to
their respective lodgings, I was accosted by a stout, athletic
man whom I did not then know, but afterward ascertained to
be Rust, with the abrupt question, "Would you resent an
insult?"  "That depends on circumstances" was my answer.
The words were scarcely spoken when a powerful blow, that
I neither saw nor anticipated, temporarily stunned and staggered me; but I brought up against the wooden railing of
the walk down through the public grounds, from the Capitol
to the Avenue. Dozens of all parties were around, but no
348 
"BANKS CONGRESS."- CONTEST FOR SPEAKER. 349
one interposed; and Rust, whirling on his heel, proceeded on
his way. Soon recovering my consciousness, I followed; and,
just before reaching my (National) hotel, overtook Rust and
his party, who were probably awaiting me. He turned, with
three or four friends flanking him, and again assaulted me;
this time with a heavy cane, which he broke over my arm,
raised to guard my head, as I was trying to close with him.
MTy arm was badly swelled by the blow, as my head was by
its predecessor, but I neither fell nor recoiled; and PRust,
soon whirling again, went on his way, while I repaired to my
room in the hotel, which I was obliged to keep for some days
thereafter. The only excuse or pretext for this assault was
afforded by my strictures in The Tribune on his baffled attempt to coerce his political opponents into voting for some
one else than the man of their choice for Speaker.
I cannot now remember that I was ever seriously assaulted
since my boyhood except by Rust as aforesaid. Writing the
plainest and squarest Anglo-Saxon I know, and often speaking of political opponents, their works, ways, and words, in
terms that could by no tolerable stretch of courtesy be deemed
flattering, -terms, doubtless, sometimes misjudging and undeserved, - I suppose I ought to deem myself fortunate in
having so seldom been subjected to personal violence.  Still,
if Rust's assaults were intended to convince me that his
proposition was fair and manly, they certainly failed to subserve their purpose.
Some weeks after these assaults, I was waited on at the
Capitol by the Marshal of the District, who wished me to go
before the Grand Jury as a witness against Rust. This I declined to do, unless compelled by due process of law; for, I
urged, there were fully a score who witnessed either assault,
all under circumstances more favorable to observation than
mine; and, if these did not see fit to testify, why call on me?
I did not choose to figure as an informer or complainant. I
decidedly preferred not to have the wrath of the law placated
by a fine of $ 25 or $ 50. So nothing was ever done in the
premises. I do not even remember that Rust was ever pre
.0 
PRECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
sented by his admirers with a cane, as Mr. Brooks of South
Carolina was with several by those who exulted over his far
more savage and damaging attack, a few weeks later, on Senator Sumner,- a crime for which a Washington court fined
the Hon. culprit $ 300.
If there happens to be any one who decides that Rust's
proposal did not justify my strictures (which, I assume, were
severe), I ask him to pass judgment on one that was submitted, directly after Ptust's was disposed of, by Hon. Charles
James Faulkner of Virginia, afterward President Buchanan's
Minister Plenipotentiary to London.  It is as follows:
"Resolved, That the persistent adherence of the Republican
party to the Hon. Nathaniel P. Banks as its candidate for the
office of Speaker, after the repeated manifestations by the majority
of the members of this House that he does not possess their confidence for that situation, exhibits a determination to sacrifice the
public interests of the country to the triumphs of a personal and
sectional party; and that the further continuance of his name
before this body, as the candidate of his party for the office of
Speaker, justly attaches to his supporters the responsibility for a
failure to organize this House."
I do not believe in the Pust style of argumentation; yet I
cannot see how such propositions as the above could be appropriately met by any other.
And still the balloting for Speaker went fitfully on, alternated with debates.
President Pierce having sent in his Annual Message on the
25th, though the House was in no condition to receive it,
Mr. Banks now generally lacking six or seven votes of being
chosen, - while all manner of back-stairs intrigues were fomented  by the twenty or thirty nominal Republicans of
whom each fancied that he would stand a good chance for
the Speakership if Banks were withdrawn; and one or two
serious but unsuccessful attempts having been made to contentrate the entire anti-Republican vote on Hon. James L.
Orr (Dem.), of South Carolina; at length, on the 1st of February, a motion by Hon. John Hickman, of Pennsylvania, to
350 
"BANKS CONGRESS."- CONTEST FOR SPEAKER. 351
adopt a plurality rule, was defeated by the close vote of 108
Yeas to 110 Nays; so that it was evident an election was not
far off.  Next day, Mr. Samuel A. Smith (Dem.), of Tennessee, renewed the proposition in this shape:  "Resolved, That the House will proceed immediately to the
election of a Speaker viva voce. If, after the roll shall have been
called three times, no member shall have received a majority of
all the votes cast, the roll shall again be called, and the member
who shall then receive the largest number of votes, provided it
shall be a majority of a quorum, shall be declared duly elected
Speaker of the House of Representatives of the XXXIVth Congress."
A motion to lay this proposition on the table was promptly
voted down, - 114 to 104, - and the resolution then adopted,
under the Previous Question, - Yeas, 113; Nays, 104. The
Democrats who supported it were Messrs. Barclay of Pennsylvania, Clingman of North Carolina, Herbert of California,
Kelly of New York, Andrew Oliver of New York, S. A. Smith
of Telnnessee, and John Williams of New York. Several attempts to rescind the above rule were successively made and
voted down; and then the House, rejecting all motions to
adjourn, proceeded to vote under it, with the following
result: —
130th ballot.   lSlst.  132d.  133ld.
Nathaniel P. Banks, of Massachusetts.  102   102   102   103
William Aiken, of South Carolina..  93    93    92   100
Henry M. Fuller, of Pennsylvania..   14    13    13    6
Scattering,.............          6     6      6      5
The House thereupon, on motion of Mr. Clingman of North
Carolina, resolved, by 155 to 40, that Mr. Banks had been duly
elected Speaker; and the long struggle was over. It is memorable as the very first in our National history wherein Northern
resistance to Slavery Extension ever won in a fair, stand-up
contest, without compromise or equivocation.  line weeks had
been spent- I think, not unprofitably - in producing this
result; and there were not over seventy-five decided Republicans in the House of 234 members in which it was achieved.
Day after day, those who still insisted on holding on to Banks 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
had been inveighed against as perilling the cause for their
favorite; when, in fact, had Banks been dropped, it would
have been found impossible to concentrate so many votes on
any one else, as were nearly (or quite) a hundred times cast
for him. The readiness of his friends, at all times, to adopt
the plurality rule, and abide the result, shielded them from
all just reproach as wantonly protracting the contest. If appropriations were needed, it became the supporters of the Administration to let the House be organized under that rule, so
that the public need might be satisfied. The long contest
had proved the "American" organization a myth, a fog-bank,
an illusion; and the new-born Republican party, consolidated
and united by this struggle, mustered heartily and formidably
at its first National Convention, which assembled at Pitts-'
burg, Pa., on the 22d of that month.
Mr. Banks, though then in his second term, proved an
excellent Speaker, -prompt, vigorous, decided,  and  just.
Though a majority remained politically hostile to him, and
the waves of party passion ran very high, I believe but one
of the many decisions made by him as Speaker was overruled; and the House, on calmer consideration, reconsidered
its overruling vote. Abler men may have filled that difficult
post; but no man, I judge, ever gave himself more unreservedly to the discharge of its arduous duties. I have heard
that Mr. Banks was a schoolmaster in his youth, and his
manner in the chair often countenanced the tradition. If he
had a fault, it was that of overdoing, impelled by absorbing
anxiety to keep in order a body essentially turbulent, and
inclined to resent and baffle any attempt to draw the reins
too tightly. The temptations to an opposite course are very
strong, and presiding officers far oftener err on the side of
laxity than on that of rigor.
352
I 
XLII.
FREMONT. - BUCHIIANAN. - DOUGLAS.
THE  popular elections of 1854 - 55 had made manifest
the fact that the Opposition, if united on one ticket, was
strong enough to oust the Democratic party from power at
Washington; the long and arduous struggle for Speaker had
shown that such combination could only be effected with
great difficulty, if at all.  The "American" party was first in
the field, - selecting as its candidates Millard Fillmore, of
New York, for President, with Andrew J. Donelson (nephew
and namesake of "Old Hickory"), of Tennessee, for VicePresident, - men of decided personal strength, but impossible
candidates for the Republicans, because radically hostile to
their cardinal principle. The Democrats next held their Convention, and nominated James Buchanan, of Pennsylvania, for
President, with John C. Breckinridge, of Kentucky, for VicePresident. President Pierce and Senator Douglas were Mr. Buchanan's competitors, and were wisely defeated,-each of them
being conspicuously identified with the Nebraska bill; while
Mr. Buchanan, having been, throughout President Pierce's term,
Envoy to Great Britain, had escaped all complication in the
popular mind with that measure. And, as Pennsylvania was
the probable pivot of the contest, it was manifestly wise to
present a Pennsylvanian for the first office. The Republicans,
meeting last, nominated Coloref John C. Fremont, of California, for President, with William L. Dayton, of New Jersey,
for Vice-President.   They were strongly urged to present
John McLean, of Ohio, then a Justice of the Supreme Court,
for the first office, with the assurance that he could secure the
23 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
bulk of the "American" vote,- at least in the Free States,and thus probably carry Pennsylvania and Indiana. This
assurance seemed to rest on no certain or tangible data, and
was overruled,-  a mistake (if such it were) for which I accept my full share of responsibility. I felt that Colonel Fremont's adventurous, dashing career had given him popularity,
with our young men especially; and I had no faith in the
practicability of our winning many votes from those "Americans" who were not heartily Republicans.
Our canvass was very animated, and our hopes, for a season,
quite sanguine, especially after Maine had gone for us in September, by 25,000 plurality; but the October elections gave
us a cold chill, - Pennsylvania choosing the Democratic
State officers, by 3,000 majority, over the vote of the combined Opposition, with 15 of the 25 representatives in Congress, and a majority in the Legislature. Indiana likewise
went against the combined Opposition, by an average majority
of more than 6,000; and when it transpired that the " American" leaders,    rejecting all offers to run combined tickets, persisted in running distinctive Fillmore tickets for Electors in
each of these (as in most other) States, it was clear that we
were doomed to defeat, - all the States that we could still
rationally hope to carry casting less than half the Electoral
votes.  Yet we fought on with much resolution, though with
little hope; giving Fremont and Dayton the six New England
States, by clear majorities; New York, by 80,000 plurality;
and Ohio, by nearly 17,000; while Michigan, Iowa, and Wisconsin went decidedly for us, as Illinois would have done had
there been no third ticket. Pennsylvania and Indiana each
gave Mr. Buchanan a bare majority over the two opposing
tickets.  Mr. Fillmore received the 8 electoral votes of Maryland only; Colonel Fremont had 114 votes, - those of eleven
Free States; while Mr. Buchanan was elected by 112 votes
from fourteen Slave States, and 62 from five Free States,
174 in all, or a clear majority. The aggregate popular vote
stood: Buchanan, 1,838,232; Fremont, 1,341,514; Fillmore,
874,707.   Buchanan's inauguration  (March  4, 1857) was
354 
FREMIONT. - BUCHANAN. - DOUGLAS.
swiftly followed by the since famous Dred Scott decision of
the Supreme Court, which denied the right of Congress to
prohibit slaveholding in the Territories of the Union, and
proclaimed it the notion of our RIevolutionary fathers that
Blacks have no rights that Whites are bound to respect. Mr.
Buchanan foreshadowed this decision in his Inaugural, gave
it his hearty indorsement; and commended it to general approval.
Kansas had begun to be settled in 1854, directly after tlhe
passage of the Nebraska bill, and had inevitably become an
arena of strife and violence. Colonies were sent thither from
the Free States expressly to mould her to the uses of Free Labor; while weaker colonies were sent thither from the South,
to bind her to the car of Slavery. These would have been
of small account had they not been largely' supplemented
by the incursions of Missourians, who, thoroughly armed,
swarmed across the unmarked border whenever an election
was impending; camping in the vicinity of most of the polls,
whereof they took unceremonious possession, and voting till
they were sure that no more votes were needed; when they
decamped, and returned to their Missouri homes. As the
Free-State settlers refused to be thus subjugated, there were
soon two Territorial legislatures, with sheriffs and courts to
match; and these inevitably led to collisions of authorities
and of forces, resulting in general insecurity and turmoil, with
occasional sacrifices of property and of life. Congress had tried
to end these disorders; but no plan could be agreed upon by
the two Houses, and nothing was effected.  At length, in the
Summer of 1857, the pro-Slavery minority, powerfully aided
by the "Border Ruffians," elected a Convention, framed a ProSlavery Constitution, adopted it after their fashion, and sent
it to Congress for approval and ratification.  It was known as
the "Lecompton" Constitution, from the place where it was
fabricated.
Mr. Buchanan at first hesitated to indorse or be complicated
with this procedure; so that there was trouble in the camp;
355 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and it was currently reported that his less scrupulous Secretary of the Treasury,-  Howell Cobb, of Georgia, - being
asked by a visitor what was the matter, carelessly replied,
" 0, not much; only Old Buck is opposing the Administration."   Senator Douglas, on the one hand, at first seemed
inclined to the side of the Missourians, whose cause he had
upheld with signal ability and energy in the preceding Congress; but he soon demonstrated in favor of genuine "'Popular
Sovereignty," in Kansas, which was his more natural and consistent position.  Reports of this change had preceded his
appearance in Washington as a member of the XXXVth Congress; so that, on his calling to pay his respects to the President? an animated and spicy colloquy on the ruling topic was
at once commenced by his host. "Mr. Douglas," said the
President, "how are we to allay the contention and trouble
created by this strife over the Lecompton Constitution?"
"Why, Mr. President," replied his guest, " I do not see how
you should have any trouble in the premises. The Constitutien says,' Congress shall make all needful rules and regulations respecting the Territories,' &c., but I cannot recall any
clause which requires the President to make any." Thus the
conversation ran on, until the President, waxing warm, saw
fit to warn his visitor that his present course would, if persisted in, soon carry him out of the Democratic party. "Mr.
Senator," he inquired, "do you clearly apprehend the goal to
which you are now tending?"  "Yes, sir," promptly responded
the Little Giant; "I have taken a through ticket, and checked
all my baggage." Further discussion being obviously useless,
Mr. Douglas soon left the White House, and I believe he did
not visit it again during Mr. Buchanan's administration.
The XXXVth Congress, which had been mainly chosen
simultaneously with Mr. Buchanan, or nearly so, was decidedly Democratic, and still more strongly pro-Slavery,  the
Senate impregnably so, by about two to one, -and yet, so
flagrant were the enormities of the Lecompton measure, and so
356 
FREMONT. - BUCHANAN. - DOUGLAS.
conspicuous the ability and the energy of Mr. Douglas, who led
the resistance to it, and threw his whole soul into the work,
that the attempt to make Kansas a Slave State under the
Lecompton Constitution (which her people were forbidden to
change to the detriment of Slavery for several years to come)
was fairly beaten; being vitally amended in the House by a
vote of 120 to 112, after it had passed the Senate by 35 to 23.
The Senate at first refused to concur by 34 to 22; whereupon
a conference was had, and an equivocal compromise measure
thereby devised and carried through both Houses by nearly a
party vote. But, as this measure gave the people of Kansas
a chance indirectly to vote upon and reject the Lecompton
scheme, such a vote was thereupon had, and the scheme rejected by an overwhelming majority.  Kansas thus remained
a Territory until after the secession from Congress of most of
the Southern Senators, early in 1861, when she was admitted
as a Free State, with the hearty assent of three fourths of her
inhabitants.
Mr. Douglas's second term as Senator expired with the
Congress in which he made his gallant and successful struggle
against what I deemed a great and perilous wrong,- a wrong
so palpable that the eminent Senator Hammond, of South
Carolina, who supported it at every step, afterward publicly
declared that the Lecompton bill should at once have been
kicked out of Congress as a fraud. It seemed to me that not
only magnanimity, but policy, dictated to the Republicans of
Illinois that they should promptly and heartily tender their
support to Mr. Douglas, and thus insure his reelection for a
third term with substantial unanimity. They did not concur,
however, but received the suggestion with passionate impatience. Having for a quarter of a century confronted Mr.
Douglas as the ablest, most alert, most effective, of their adversaries, they could not now be induced to regard him in a
different light; and, beside, their hearts were set on the election, as his successor, of their own especial favorite and champion, Abraham Lincoln, who, though the country at large
357 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
scarcely knew him as for a single term a Representative in
Congress, was endeared to them by his tested efficiency as a.
canvasser and his honest worth as a man. Four years before,
the Whig portion of them had wished to make him Senator;
but the far fewer anti-Nebraska Democrats held the balance
of power, and they decisively said, "You will elect our leader,
Lyman Trumbull, or you will not elect at all." Having given
way then, the great body of the party had fully resolved that
Lincoln should be their candidate now, and that, at all events,
Douglas should not be. So Lincoln was nominated, and accepted in a memorable speech; and the State was canvassed
by him and Douglas as it had never before been,- they repeatedly speaking alternately from the same stand to gatherings of deeply interested and intently listening thousands.
In the event, Mr. Douglas secured a small majority in either
branch of the Legislature, and was reelected; but Mr. Lincoln's
friends claimed a considerable majority for their favorite in
the aggregate popular vote. They did not, for a while, incline
to. forgive me for the suggestion that it would have been wiser
and better not to have opposed Mr. Douglas's return; but I
still abide in that conviction.
Mr. Douglas was the readiest man I ever knew. He was
not a hard student; if he had been, it would have been difficult to set limits to his power. I have seen him rise in the
Senate quite at fault with regard to essential facts'in controversy, and thence make damaging blunders in debate; but
he readily caught at and profited by any suggestion thrown
out by friend or foe; and no American ever excelled him in
off-hand discussion: so that, even if worsted in the first stages,
he was apt to regain his lost ground as he went on. Once,
as I sat with the senior Francis P. Blair and one or two others
outside the bar of the Senate in 1856, he made us the text of
an amusing dissertation on the piebald, ring-streaked, and
speckled materials whereof the new Republican party was
composed; and, passing us soon afterward, he hailed me famil
358 
FREMONT. - BUCHANAN. - DOUGLAS.
iarly with the interrogation, "Did n't I give you a good turn
just now?"  At a later day, when the Lecomlpton struggle
was in progress, a mutual friend, remembering that my strictures on Mr. Douglas in former years had been of a very
caustic sort, inquired of. him whether he had any objections,
on account of those strictures, to meeting me on a friendly
footing.  "Certaiifly not," was his instant response; "I always
pay that class of debts as I go along." Our country has often
been called to mourn severe, untimely losses; yet I deem
the death of Stephen A. Douglas, just at the outbreak of our
great Civil War, and when he had thrown his whole soul into
the cause of the country, one of the most grievous and irreparable.
Mr. Buchanan, though born nearly a quarter of a century
earlier, survived Mr. Douglas by fully seven years; dying in
1868, when he had long outlived whatever influence or consideration he may once have enjoyed. Alike ambitious and
timid, his conduct throughout the initial stage of the Rebellion is yet unaccountable on any hypothesis but that of
secret pledges, made by him or for him, to the Southern
leaders when he was an aspirant to the Presidency, that
fettered and paralyzed him when they perverted the power
enjoyed by them as members of his Cabinet to the disruption
and overthrow of the Union. That, during those last mournful months of his nominal rule, he repeatedly said to those
around him, "I am the last President of the United States;'
I firmly believe; that he proclaimed and argued that the
Federal government had no constitutional right to defend its
own existence against State secession, is matter of public
record. Though he had spent what should have been the
better part of a long life in working his way up to the Presidential chair, I think the verdict of history must be that it
would have been far better for his own fame, as well as better
for the country, that he had failed to obtain it.
359 
XLIII.
A RIDE ACROSS THE PLAINS.
ROM the hour when,late in 1848, the discovery of rich gold
placers in California had incited a vast and eager migra tion thither, insuring the rapid growth of energetic and thrifty
settlements of our countrymen on that remote and previously
unattractive, thinly peopled coast, the construction of a great
International Railway from the Missouri to the Pacific seemed
to me imperative and inevitable. I could not deem it practi cable to retain permanently under one government communities of many millions of intelligent, aspiring, imperious people,
separated by fifteen hundred miles of desert, traversed by two
great mountain-chains, beside innumerable  clusters, spurs
and isolated summits, and compelling a resort, for comparatively easy, cheap, and speedy transit, to a circuit of many
thousands of miles. A Pacific Railroad was thus accepted by
me at a very early day as a National necessity, alike in its
political and its commercial aspects; and, while others were
scoffingly likening it to a tunnel under the Atlantic or a
bridge to the moon, I was pondering the probabilities and
means of its early construction. I resolved to make a journey
of observation across the continent, with reference to the
natural obstacles presented to, and facilities afforded for, its
construction; but no opportunity for executing this purpose
was afforded me prior to the year 1859. I then hoped, rather
than confidently expected, that, on publicly announcing my
intention, some friend might offer to bear me company on this
journey; but my hope was not realized.  One friend did propose to go; but his wife's veto overruled his not very stubborn 
A RIDE ACROSS THE PLAINS.
resolve. I started alone, on the 9th of May, and travelled rapicdly, via Cleveland, Chicago, Quincy, and the North Missouri
Railroad, to St. Joseph; thence dropping down the Missouri
to Atchison, and traversing Kansas, by Leavenworth and
Wyandot, to Osawatomie; thence visiting Lawrence and returning to Leavenworth, whence the "Pike's Peak" stage
carried me, through Topeka, Manhattan, and Fort Riley, to
Junction City, then the western outpost of civilization in that
quarter.
We stopped overnight at the said city, and I visited a
brother editor, who was printing there a little Democratic
weekly, for which he may possibly have had two hundred
subscribers; but, if so, I am confident that not one half of
them ever paid him the first cent. Hie was, primarily, as I
remember, a Texan; but, having spent two years in California,
he gave me the most rapturous commendations of the beauties,
glories, and delights of that region.  "It is the greatest, the
finest, the most attractive country that man ever saw," he
concluded. "Then why are you not still in California? " I
inquired, glancing around his doleful little shanty.   "Because
I am a great fool," he bluntly replied. I did not see how
profitably to protract the discussion.
We left Junction City on a bright morning late in May,
following a new trail, which kept within sight of the Solomon's or middle fork of the Kansas River for the next two
hundred miles. The country was, in the main, gently rolling
prairie, covered with luxuriant young grass, and fairly glowing with flowers.  Antelopes, though shy, were frequently
seen at a distance, which they rapidly increased. Streams
running into the Solomon, across our track, were at first frequent, and often skirted with trees; but grew scarcer and
more scanty as we proceeded. There was some variety of
timber in the wet bottoms at first; but soon the species
dwindled to two,   Cottonwood and a low, wide-branching
Water Elm; at length, upon passing a wide belt of thin soil,
361 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
covering what seemed to be a reddish sandstone, both wood
and water almost entirely vanished, save as we descried the
former at intervals in the bottoms of the Solomon, some miles
to the left (south) of us. The Cayota or Prairie Wolf (a mean
sort of stunted or foreshortened fox) was infrequently seen;
the bolder and quite formidable Gray Wolf more rarely; soon,
the underground lodges of the Prairie Dog (a condensed gray
squirrel) covered roods of the ground we traversed, - our
newly located path lying right across several of their "towns,"
which it had not yet impelled them to desert. I refused, at
first, to credit the plainsmen's stories that an Owl and a RPtattlesnake were habitually, if not uniformly, fellow-tenants of his
"hole" with the Prairie Dog, though I had already seen many
Owls sitting, as we came near, each at the mouth of a hole,
after the Prairie Dog had barked his quick, sharp note of
alarm at our approach, and dropped ivto it; but I was finally
compelled to succumb to testimony that could not be gainsayed. The rationale of the odd partnership is this: the
Rattlesnake wants a lodging, and cannot easily dig one in that
compact soil; the Prairie Dog does n't want to be dug out and
eaten by the Cayota, as he quickly and surely would be but
for the protection afforded by the Rattlesnake's deadly fangs.
What the Owl (a small particolored one) makes by the association, I do not so clearly comprehend; but I suspect the
Hawk would pounce upon and devour him but for the ugly
customer presumed to be just at hand, and ready to "mix in,"
if any outsider should venture to meddle with the Owl; whose
partnership duties are plainly those of a watch-dog or lookout.
Beyond the sterile sandstone belt, we struck a wide stretch
of almost woodless, gently rolling prairie, thickly reticulated
by tortuous buffalo paths, with frequent skeletons and still
more plenteous skulls, - the soil being covered by a mere
sward of the short, strong buffalo-grass; and soon we came in
sight of galloping, fleeing herds of first three and four, then
twenty to a hundred and fifty, buffaloes, generally running
362
t I 
A RIDE ACROSS TIE PLAINS.
southward, in their alarm at our appearance, to seek safety in
more familiar haunts,- the entire host being at this time in
movement northward. Twenty or thirty miles farther on,
having reached the summit of a gentle slope, we looked down
its western counterpart to the pretty brook at its base, perhaps five miles distant, and thence up the opposite "rise,"the eye taking in at a glance at least a hundred square miles
of close-fed velvet glade, whereof nearly or quite half was
covered by buffalo, not "as thick as they could stand," but as
close together as they could comfortably feed.   Say that
there were but twenty (instead of fifty) square miles of buffaloes in sight, and that each one had four square rods of
ground to himself, the number in sight at once was 512,000.
And for three days we were oftener in than out of sight of
these vast herds, and must have seen several millions of buffaloes.  In fact, we could with difficulty avoid them, -our
driver being once obliged to stop his team, or allow it and us
to be overwhelmed and crushed by a frightened, furious herd,
which, having commenced its stampede southward across our
path forty or fifty rods ahead of us, continued to follow each
other in blind succession until we must have gone down and
rolled over beneath their thundering charge (as an empty
stage did a few days afterward), if we had not halted, and so
avoided them.  A  day or two before, an agent of the line,
who was riding a horse along the track, unthinking of danger,
was borne down by a herd started by some emigrants the
other side of an elevation, and instantly hurled to the earth.
Though badly hurt, he saved himself from death by firing all
the barrels of his revolver at the great brutes careering madly
over his prostrate form; but his horse was instantly killed.
Emerging from the buffalo region, the soil became visibly
thinner, and the vegetation poorer and poorer, until-  the
head sources of the Solomon having been passed -we bore
rather north of west across several tributaries to the Republican or main northern branch of the Kansas, which we found
here a rapid, shallow stream, perhaps a hundred yards wide
by one to two feet deep, rippling over a bed of coarse sand
363 
.RECOLLE.GCTONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and gravel, with a very few cottonwoods thinly dotting its
banks at long intervals,    precious little thin, coarse grass
being occasionally discernible.  A mule, bitten in the jaw by
a rattlesnake, lying dead beside a station-tent, was one of the
fresher features of this dreary region. A stunted cactuswhich reared its small, prickly leaves barely above the
ground- here began to be manifest. Following up the
dwindling river, we soon came to a "sink," - the entire
stream percolating for fifteen or twenty miles hence through
its gravelly bed far below the surface of the earth, - a teamster, who dug through eight feet of sand and gravel in quest
of water for his fainting beasts, being obliged to desist without finding any. Most of the tributaries we crossed on the
Republican were simply broad beds of coarse, loose, dry sand,
into which our mules often sank to a depth of several inches;
though in Winter and Spring I presume these are considerable brooks. Wood here became so scarce that, to supply
one station, it had to be carted sixteen miles. At length, we
left the head springs of the Republican on our right, and
struck, a few miles on, a northern tributary of the Arkansas,
known as the "Big Sandy," which we ascended some twenty
or thirty miles; finally leaving it on our left. Its bed was
dry, of rather coarse sand, and often covered with a white,
alkaline efflorescence; but, occasionally, a small stream ran
gently aboveground, under one of its banks, where the channel had been worn exceptionally deep.
Soon after leaving the Big Sandy, we crossed the head waters of Bijou Creek, which runs northward into the South
Platte. "Pike's Peak," snow-crowned, had for some time
been visible nearly west of us; soon, we found deeper ravines and steeper hills than we had seen since we left the
Missouri, with thin clumps of Yellow or Pitch Pine,- outposts of the Rocky Mountain forests, -occasionally covering
patches of their sides or crests: the soil being sterile, and the
grass too scanty to nourish sweeping fires at any season.
After a few hours of this, we descended to the valley of
Cherry Creek, near the point where it emerges from the
364 
A RIDE ACROSS THE PLAINS.
mountains, and, following down its east bank to its entrance
into the South Platte, saluted, one bright morning in June,
after a rough, chilly, all-night ride, the rising city of DENVERL
Denver was then about six months old; but the rival city
of Auraria (since absorbed by it), lying just across the bed
of Cherry Creek (which suddenly dried up at this point during one night of my brief sojourn), had already attained an
antiquity of nearly a year. As there was no saw-mill within
several hundred miles, none of the edifices which composed
these rival cities could yet boast a ground-floor;  but I
attended Divine worship the next Sunday (in Auraria) on the
first second-story floor that was constructed in either of them.
It may at first blush seem odd that a second-floor should precede a first; but mother Earth supplied a first-floor that did
very well, while nature has not yet condescended to supply
man-made dwellings with chamber-floors.
I suppose there were over a hundred dwellings in the two
cities, when I reached them.   I judge that they averaged
fully ten feet square, though probably the larger number fell
short of that standard. In material, none could boast over
its neighbors, as all were built of cottonwood logs from the
adjacent bank of the South Platte; but some of these were
rudely squared on one side, with an axe; while others were
left as God made them. I believe there was a variety in
roofs also,- some being constructed of "shooks," or pieces
split with an axe from a cottonwood log, while others were of
cottonwood bark. I seem to remember that all the chimneys
were of sticks and mud; but then some were without chimneys; and, while several had windows (I mean one apiece)
composed of four to six licghts of seven-by-nine glass, others
were content with the more primitive device of a rude wooden
shutter, closed at night, and during severe, windy, driving
storms. Most of these cabins had known as yet only male
housekeepers; and nearly half of them had been deserted by
their creators and owners, some of whom were off prospecting
365
0 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
for gold;  while quite a number- disappointed, hopeless,
homesick - had left for the States early in Spring, convinced
that gold in the Rocky Mountains was a myth, a humbug, or
that (in the vernacular)" Pike hadn't got any peak."  But
the recent discoveries on Clear Creek had given matters a new
and more cheerful aspect; so that, while two thirds of those
who started for "the diggings" that Spring never went within sight of the Rocky Mountains, - many of them not halfway to them, -while some barely reached Denver, and then
took the back track, the rival cities were gaining population
quite rapidly during the ten days that I spent in or near
them, and some good families were among the acquisitions.
Cabins that would gladly have been sold for $25 two months
earlier now ran rapidly up to $100; and the market could
fairly be quoted as active and advancing. There were as yet
few or no servants to be hired at any price; but a considerable band of Arapahoes were camped in Denver; and, while
the braves were thoroughly worthless, their squaws were willihg to do anything for food. True, they could do very little;
but lugging water from the South Platte was the first requisite in housekeeping, and this they did faithfully.'We lived
mainly on bread, bacon, beans, coffee, and nettles, the last
being boiled for greens; but those who were not particular as
to dirt could often buy a quarter of antelope just brought in
by an Arapahoe; or, more probably, killed by the hunter and
backed in by his squaw. Whiskey was in good supply (I
know nothing as to the quality) at a quarter (silver) per
drink. There were several rude bedsteads just constructed in
the Denver House,- the grand hotel of the city, - on which
you were allowed to spread your blankets and repose for a
dollar a night; but mine, being bottomed with rough slats
nearly a foot apart, almost broke my back, proving far less
luxurious than the bosom of mother Earth. Two blacklegs
rented opposite corners of the public room, and were steadily
swindling greenhorns at three-card monte, from morning till
bedtime: one stage-driver, who was paid off with $207 at
noon, having lost the last cent of it to one of these harpies
366 
A RIDE ACROSS THE PLAINS.
by 2 P.M. The gamblers and other rough subjects had an
unpleasant habit of quarrelling and firing revolvers at each
other in this bar-room when it was crowded, and sometimes
hitting the wrong man,- by which phrase I certainly do not
indicate any of their own number. On the whole, therefore,
I soon tired of hotel-life in Denver. It was not dull, - quite
otherwise,- but I am shy by nature and meditative by habit,
and some of the ways of the Denver House did not suit me.
They were unmistakably Western, and I was journeying to
study Western character; but, even though distance might
not lend enchantment to the view of these mining-region
blacklegs and ruffians, I am sure that they can be studied to
better satisfaction out of pistol-shot than at close quarters.
"Suppose you jump a cabin?" suggested the friend to
whom I intimated my preference for a less popular lodging.
I did not understand; but he explained, and I saw the point.
Several cabins were still standing vacant, as many had been;
and no one knew whither their owners had gone, so whoever
wanted one of these empty tenements just helped himself.
I at once followed the fashion, and was happy in my choice.
I was thenceforth lodged very eligibly till the owner of my
cabin, returning from a prospecting tour, put in an appearance. He was evidently embarrassed at the thought that his
advent must seem abrupt and unceremonious; but I cut short
his apologies by insisting that the cabin afforded ample accommodation for two; and we thenceforth shared it very
comfortably for the few days that I tarried in Denver.
While thus snugly and cheaply lodged, I boarded with a
widow lady from Leavenworth, who had been keeping a mailstation on the plains, but, tiring of that, had just migrated to
Denver, and jumped a cabin. She, with her little son, slept
on a sort of shelf nearer the roof than the floor of her single
room; while two male boarders, waiting outside while she
made her toilet, spread their blankets on the earth-floor of
her tenement. At daylight, they turned out, giving her a
chance to dress, clear up, and get breakfast, which they duly
returned to eat. Such was life in Denver in June, 1859.
367
I 
XLIV.
THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.- THE GREAT BASITN.
MADE a flying visit, directly after reaching Denver, to
the then new "Gregory Digging,s," on Clear Creek, where
is now Central City. A good road, I hear, now winds thither
through the mountains, mainly keeping close to Clear Creek;
but that was impossible in 1859; as even an empty wagon
would have been capsized into or toward the creek at least
a hundred times before making the distance. Our route lay
across the South Platte, the plairie and Clear Creek (where
Gblden City has since sprung up), and then right up the face
of the first ridge, rising 1,600 feet in a mile and a half, -an
ascent so steep as to appear impossible to teams, however
lightly loaded; and even saddle-horses seemed in great peril
of falling off and rolling to the bottom. After two miles of
level path through an open pine forest on the summit, we had
to descend a declivity nearly as steep; then ascend a second
mountain; and so on, till we camped at sunset, weary enough,
seven miles short of the diggings, which we reached about
nine next morning; spending the day and night with the
pioneers, and returning to the Platte Valley the day after. I
saw enough on that trip to convince me that the Rocky
Mountains abound in Gold and nearly all other metals, but
that these must be earned before they can be enjoyed.
I bade adieu to Denver about the 18th of June; having
hired an "ambulance," or wagon and four mules, to convey
me to the Overland Mail-route at Fort Laramie, on the North
Platte, 200 miles northward.  I judge that there were twenty
considerable streams to cross in that distance, - all then in 
THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.- THE GREAT BASIN. 369
flood, from the melting snows of the inner and higher mountains.  Several of these streams were forded with difficulty
by our team, — one of them (the Cache le Poudre) being as
large as the Charles at Cambridge. I think we saw four huts
on the way, but only three of them were occupied. There
was no White person then living within fifty miles of Cheyenne, where the Pacific Railroad now enters the Rocky
Mountains; and only a deserted fort or  military camp spoke
of civilization.   Yet most of the region between the two
Plattes and the base of the Rocky Mountains- a district
equal in area to Connecticut, if not to Vermont-has good
soil, is tolerably timbered, grows fine grass luxuriantly, and
will yet subsist a large farming population.  It is subject to
drouth, but may easily be irrigated; and then its product of
Wheat, Oats, Barley, and Roots will be immense. I judge
that nearly all the larger tributaries oi the Missouri traverse
a good farming region directly under the Rocky Mountains
wherein they take rise. This region lies from 4,500 to 6,000
feet aboxe tide, and hence is subject to frost, hail, and late
snow, as well as to drouth; yet I predict its rapid settlement
and growth. I wish I could see how to save its Aboriginal
inhabitants from sure and speedy extinction.
After waiting five days at Fort Laramie, I took the mail
stage (then weekly) which traversed the old Oregon as well
as California emigrant trail up the Platte and its northern
tributary, the Sweetwater, to that wide gap in the Pocky
Mountains known as the South Pass, - the Sweetwater
heading on the west side of the mountains, and sending (in
Summer) a scanty mill-stream through the Pass. Much of
this region is quite sterile; snow lay deep in a ravine of the
Pass on the 5th of July; while there is one larg,e swamp,
thirty or forty miles this side, which remains frozen a foot or
two below the surface perpetually. There are small lakes on
this route that look most inviting, yet so surclharged with
alkaline minerals that to drink freely of their water is death
24 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
to man or beast. There is some Yellow Pine on the hills, with
less Cottonwood and Quaking Asp, mainly skirting, at long
intervals, the streams; but this region is, for the most part,
unless rich in minerals, good for nothing. I learn that bounteous mines of Gold have lately been found here; and I know
that the indications of Gold were quite palpable on the hills
in the Pass, where -we camped and spent a day beside a runnel which brings its scanty tribute to the Sweetwater. But,
a few miles beyond the South Pass, where the mountains disappear, and the road to Utah and California diverges from
the old trail to Oregon, and where each begins to descend
toward the Pacific, the country is utterly worthless for at
least two hundred miles; in the midst of which we crossed
Green River, running swiftly southward, in a very deep, narrow valley, which yields a little grass and less Cottonwood.
On either side of this valley stretch dreary wastes of thirsty
sand, shaded only by the two low shrubs, known locally as
Greasewood and Sagebrush, which, together, enclose a thousand miles of the Overland Wagon-route, and probably cover
half a million square miles of the interior of our continent.
Greasewood is a species of Artemisia, and derives its vulgar
name from a waxy or resinous property, which causes it to
burn freely, even while green; but it grows in bunches or
stools six or seven feet apart, with naked, glittering sand between them; and so defies destruction by fire. Sagebrush
exhibits a number of shoots, twelve to twenty inches long,
from a common stalk or stump of about equal height; each
shoot somewhat resembling a stalk of Sage in appearance and
color. There is a Sage-Hen that eats this plant; but who,
unless famishing, would thereafter choose to eat the SageHen?
Fort Bridger was the first village we had seen since we left
Laramie; like which, it owes its existence to a military post.
It is traversed by a brawling mill-stream (Ham's Fork) which
is rushing to be lost in Green River, and is said to have some
arable land in its vicinity. We were still considerably north
of the present route of the Pacific Railroad, which we had
370 
THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.- THE GREAT BASIN. 371
crossed and left near Cheyenne; but soon, crossing a high
divide, we bore southward, and, descending rapidly, forded
Bear River, here a swift stream one or two hundred yards
wide, but scarcely more than two feet deep. It is unfortunate
that the Pacific Railroad cannot follow this river hence to
Salt Lake; but the course of the stream is so tortuous and so
shut in by mountains and difficult precipices that this may
not be. I judge that, next to the Sierra Nevada, already
nearly vanquished, the stretch from Green River to Salt
Lake- some three hundred miles- is the most difficult
section of the entire work. But the route we traversed,
leaving that of the railroad far on our right (north), rises
easily out of the valley of Bear River, and thence follows
down a long, narrow, grassy valley or glen known as Echo
Canion, with steep cliffs on either side, emerges from it to
cross Weber River (also a tributary of Salt Lake), and thence
crosses two difficult ridges of the Wahsatch and Uintah
mountains, whence it winds down a ravine known as Emigration Cabon till that opens into the valley of the River Jordan
and of Salt Lake; and soon we roll into the city of the manywived prophet, the capital of his sacerdotal and political
empire, and the most conspicuous trophy of his genius and
his power.
That city has so changed since I saw it,- being now probably at least thrice its size nine years ago,- that I will
speak of it briefly, and only as to certain permanent phases of
its character. My present belief is that, like most strangers,
I was more favorably impressed by it than I should have
been. Not that its more intelligent people received me kindly
and treated me with emphatic hospitality,- I have been thus
welcomed to other cities, which nevertheless did not specially
impress me. But a thousand miles of parched, mountainous
desert (counting from Denver only) on which I had seen no
single productive farm, and nothing that could be fairly termed
a house but a few cheap structures for officers' lodgings at
Forts Laramie and Bridger -no vegetables, no furniture, no
beds,- had predisposed me to greet even the ruder appliances
0 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
of urban life with uncritical satisfaction. Our civilization, regarded as an end, is faulty enough, and open to objections
from every side; but, considered as a stage in our progress
from the status of the Esquimaux, the Digger, the Hottentot,
I submit that it may be contemplated with a complacency by
no means unreasonable. Soon after leaving the last Kansas
settlement, I noted the rounds of the ladder I had descended
during the preceding fortnight, and photographed them as
follows:
"lVay 12th, Chicago. - Chocolate and morning journals last seen
on the hotel breakfast-table.
23d, Leavenworth.- Room-bells and bath-tubs make their final
appearance.
24th, Topeka. -Beef-steaks and wash-bowls (other than tin) last
visible. Barber ditto.
26th, Man?hattan. - Potatoes and eggs last recognized among the
blessings that "brighten as they take their eflight." Chairs ditto.
27th, Junction City.-  Last visitation of a boot-black, with dissolving views of a board bedroom. Beds bid us good by.
28th, Pipe Creek.    Benches for seats at meals disappeared, giving place to bags and boxes. We (two passengers of a scribbling
turn) write letters to our journals at nightfall in the express-wagon
that has borne us by day, and must serve us as bedchamber for
the night. Thunder and lightning, from both south and west,
give strong promise of a shower before morning. Our trust, under
Providence, is in buoyant hearts and a rubber blanket.   Good
night!"
I descended somewhat farther afterward, and I did not
think of hardship, though the water was often scanty, as well
as bad, and the pilot-bread had been so long exposed to the
drying air of the Plains that human teeth could hardly penetrate it.  Those who fancy army "hard-tack" dry eating
would devour it thankfully, after being rationed a single week
on that which I confronted on the Sweetwater and the Colorado. But hard-tack is wholesome, if not toothsome; while
the bread made on the Plains, of nearly equal parts of flour
and saleratus, baked in a frying-pan or spider, and eaten hot,
372 
THE ROCKY MOUNTAINVS.- THE GREAT BASIN. 373
though I ate it with facility, destroyed my digestion, and
made me sick, - there being nothing to relish it but poorly
smoked pork, except tea and coffee, which I declined. With
good water, I could stand almost anything; but this was often
unattainable, and I suffered for want of it.
Salt Lake City suddenly restored us to abundance and comfort, - rooms, beds, sheets, towels, vegetables, dried fruits,
shade, &c.; while the water was beautiful and good. The
Mormons have faults; but they are more uniformly industrious and (after their fashion) pious than any other people I
ever visited. I doubt whether there is another city on the
continent wherein family worship is so general, and profanity
so rare, as in Salt Lake City, so far as its Mormon inhabitants
are considered. I must believe the authors of their revelations either knavish or self-deluded; but I have such a liking
for solid, steady, bona fide work, that the rank and file have
my most hearty good wishes. Nowhere else are there so few
idlers (Brigham Young assured me that there was none but
himself-; and he is kept busy in his vocation of prophet and
ruler), and nowhere else have so few poor and ignorant people
achieved so much that remains to benefit future generations,
as in Utah. I cherish the hope that their spiritual vision
will soon be cleared, and that they will yet, ceasing to be
polygamists, become better Christians, - retaining the habits
of industry, frugality, and thrift, which command my hearty
admiration. " He builded better than he knew" is a truth of
very wide application; and I am confident that the Pacific
Railroad, of which Brigham  Young  is grading  the thirty
miles next northeast of his metropolis, is destined to work
changes which it is well that he does not foresee, and which
will render his dominions more populous and his people far
less docile to his guidance than they now are. I judge our
age inauspicious to prophets and new revelations from on
high; and, though the past history of Utah seems to refute
my theory, I confidently expect that of the next twenty years
to confirm it. 
XLV.
UTAH.-NEVADA.
A PORTION of our little army, despatched from Kansas
late in 1857 to put down a threatened (or apprehended)
revolt Qf the Mormons, had stopped for the Winter at Fort
Bridger, after its trains, following carelessly in its rear, had, not
far from the Colorado, been surprised and burned by a Mormon
force, rendering its Winter sojourn in that desolate region
one of great hardship, especially for its animals; but it finally
marched into the Mormon settlements unopposed,- the chief
Saints protesting that they had never purposed rebellion
against the National authority. The expedition, which had
threatened a bloody tragedy, was thus transformed into a most
expensive farce; for, though the regulars were hardly more
out of place in Utah than they had been in Kansas, they were
a far more costly nuisance. Every pound of their sustenance
had been hauled across twelve hundred miles of desert and
mountain at a cost of $400 or $ 500 per ton, - or, at any
rate, was charged for as if it had been. And, when I visited
Camp Floyd, where it was stationed, forty-five miles southwest of Salt Lake City, officers were engaged, under orders
from Washington, in selling its heavy trains at auction, at
prices possibly averaging one half the actual value of the
mules and one tenth that of the wagons, -the bidders being
few, and evidently combined to give Uncle Sam the worst
bargains possible.  Governments are made to be plundered,
at all events, are regularly used to that end. I presume that,
when the army was ordered from Camp Floyd to Texas the
next year, part of these same wagons were bought back from 
UTAH. - NEVADA.
their purchasers at generous prices, -which by no means
implies any generosity on the part of those who bought them
of the government and sold them back again.
I spent a day at Camp Floyd as the guest of my oldest
army acquaintance, Lieutenant-Colonel D. C. Ruggles, 5th
Infantry, whom I had first known in. 1835 as a Massachusetts
cadet, just appointed to a lieutenancy; and who, having married in Virginia, afterward became a General of the Southern
Confederacy. We dined with the commander of the post,
Colonel Albert Sidney Johnston, - a grave, deep, able man,
with a head scarcely inferior to Daniel Webster's,- who, less
than two years afterward, left Texas overland to take part in
the Rebellion, and finally found death on the bloody field of
Shiloh or Pittsburg Landing, where he led the Rebel host
with a gallantry and soldiership worthy of a better cause. If
some wizard had foreshadowed to us the future, as we sat
around his hospitable board not three years before, who would
have believed him?
Camp Floyd had been located beside a small but constant
stream, with considerable stunted, bushy Cedar covering the
low mountains adjacent, whence it issued; but the stage-route
thence to California rose gradually from its valley into a hilly,
burnt-up region southwestward; and thenceforth, till we bore
up to strike the Humboldt at Gravelly Ford, some three hundred miles westward, I can remember seeing but three brooks
of any account, - neither of those carrying water enough to
render it a decent mill-stream; and neither, I judge, running
more than five miles from the clustered mountains between
which it was cradled, till the arid, thirsty plain had drank
the last drop, and left its shallow bed thenceforth in Summer
a stretch of dry, hot gravel and sand. We may have passed
a' dozen springs in this distance, though I believe we did not.
In one place, there was a stretch of fifty miles from water to
water, save that some had been carted in barrels to quench
the thirst of our jaded mules at a point half-way from one
375 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
station to another.  Twice, as I recollect, we sat down to our
noonday meal of pork and bread beside springs by courtesy,
where water had been found by shallow digging in depressions
or "sinks" below the usual surface of the plains; but the
'warm, sulphurous fluid thence obtained required intense thirst
to render it potable. In one place, I recollect several miles
of the all-pervading Grease-wood and Sage-brush which had
been killed stone-dead, - dried up, apparently, though their
power of resisting drouth is unparalleled; yet stunted Bunch
Cedar and some Indian Pine thinly covered the brows or the
crests of many hills and low mountains; seeming able to resist
a drouth even of successive years. The country is so broken
and mountainous that I presume Artesian wells have since
been, or will easily be, dug in the rockless clay of the valleys,
which will supply water, not only for drinking, but for irrigation; and the valleys need but this to render their alkaline
clay bounteously productive. I judge that the surface of
most of them has been raised twenty to fifty feet by earth
washed down, in the course of ages, from the circumjacent
mountains, and that, when irrigated, they will be cultivated
with facility, and with ample success. The Mormons raise
bounteous crops, especially of Wheat, wherever they can coax
a stream to meander across and percolate through a portion
of one of their valleys; and I presume most of those between
the Wahsatch and the Sierra Nevada need but water to prove
them equally fertile. Many of the mountains, I doubt not,
will prove rich in minerals; but they are rarely or never
arable, produce a very little grass in Spring only; and their
scanty, fitful covering of wood, once cut off, would not be reproduced in a century.
Bear in mind that the route I travelled rather skirts than
pierces the desert of deserts which spreads southwestward of
Salt Lake, nearly or quite to the Colorado; covering many
thousands of square miles. A friend, now deceased, once
found himself "at sea" on this desert, and likely to perish of
thirst; but he had a noble horse, to which he gave a free rein;
and that horse brought him off alive, - that was all. He
376 
UTAH. - NEVADA.
crossed miles on miles of pure rock salt, - how deep, he could
not say; but he brought away a fragment which had been
washed and worn into a nearly round log,. as large as a man's
thigh, and three or four feet long, which I saw.  Another
friend, who explored a route from Austin, Nevada, to the
Colorado (on the western verge of this desert), rode, for days,
down the bed of what had once been a considerable river, but
which seemed to have been absolutely dry for years.
There is ample corroborating proof that the Great Basin
has been far less parched then it is; and I trust that a more
generous rain-fall will again be accorded it. Probably, reclothing it with timber would renew its rains; but then the
rains seem to be needed to start and sustain the timber.
Two or three hundred miles north, several streams take rise
that make their way northward to the Columbia; as the
Humboldt, issuing from the west side of the same mountainous
region, runs over three hundred miles W.S.W., to be lost in
a sandy, reedy marsh, not a hundred miles from the Sierra
Nevada;.but, southward of this strange river of desolation,
there is rarely a stream large enough to turn a grindstone,
till you are very near the banks of the almost equally lonesome Colorado.
I rode more than two hundred miles down the south or
left bank of the Humboldt. In that distance, I judge that
all the water it receives from tributaries might be passed
through a nine-inch ring; and the stream, of course, grew
smaller and smaller as it flowed. Possibly, three springs were
passed in all that distance, though I cannot remember so
many; while I do right well remember my scarcely modified thirst. The alkaline water of the Humboldt I could not
drink, though others did; in Spring, when its volume is
greater, its quality is probably better. Once, we stopped by a
small brook tumbling down from high adjacent mountains on
the left, and I drank my fill of its warm, sweet water; but
for this, I must have remained thirsty throughout. And, in
all the two hundred miles, I believe I did not see wood
enough to keep a Yankee farmer's fire going through a Winter.
377 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LlFE.
WVillow-bushes,  skirting the little river, were  nearly all.
Even the mountain ranges, from one to five miles distant on
either side, showed no timber, or next to none. And, when
we came at length to that expansion of the stream which is
called a lake, no raft, boat, or even canoe, floated on its bosom
or was moored to either bank, and a cottage built of stones
and clay constituted the mail-station at its foot.  Thence, we
crossed a waste of sand forty miles wide, which separates the
"sink" of the Humboldt from the kindred marsh that drinks
up the waters of the Carson, which comes down from the
Sierra; and, following up the latter, by what is now Virginia
City, but then was nothing, we stopped to eat at Genoa,
then the only considerable village in what has since become
Nevada,- and rested our weary limbs at dark, after a nightand-day ride of four hundred miles (five days and four nights
from Shell Creek in Western Utah), in a wooden hotel, at the
very foot of the Sierra Nevada.
There was then no Austin, and no real mining in what is
now Nevada.   The auriferous and argentiferous deposit or
vein now known as the Comstock lode had just been discovered,- that was about all. The natural grass of the upper
end of Carson Valley had previously attracted a few settlers,
who were weary of mining in California, or worn out with
travel across the desert and reluctant to scale the Sierra;
and, though the valley must be fully six thousand feet above
the sea, and must inevitably be frosty, its beauty and verdure
fully justify their partiality. I estimate that three hundred
habitations, mainly log, are quite as many as existed in the
entire region which is now the State of Nevada, that its civilized population did not exceed five thousand, and that its
aggregate product was barely adequate to the subsistence even
of this number. To-day, Nevada produces more silver, and
little less gold, than any other State or Territory; and the
next census will give her a population of at least two hundred thousand.
378 
X LVI.
THE SIERRA NEVADA.- THE YOSEMITE. - THE BIG
TREES.
CLEAPR, warm, golden 1st of August - such a day as
the Pacific slope of our continent abounds in - took us
across the Sierra Nevada by the double-summit route that follows up one branch of the Carson to its source, then descends
rapidly into the valley of Lake Bigler, thence climbs diagonally the mountain west of it by a steep ascent of two miles,
crosses its summit, and descends again, following a depression
in which springs give birth to rills, which speedily collect into
a brook, which goes brawling and leaping down the western
declivity of the Sierra, and has become quite a little river
(South Fork of the American) at a point twenty or thirty
miles down, where we crossed its valley from the northern
to the southern bank, and, rising thence to the summit of a
ridge or "divide" on the south, ran rapidly down it to the
thriving city of Placerville, at the base of the range, in California's great central valley of the Sacramento.
The Sierra Nevada is probably more heavily timbered than
any other range of mountains on the continent.  On the Ne
vada side, this timber is of moderate size, and almost wholly
of Yellow or Pitch Pine, with a few deciduous trees in the
narrow ravines of the streams; while, on the far longer slope
that looks toward the Pacific, immense Yellow and Sugar
Pines, often eight feet through, thickly cover thousands of
square miles, interspersed with White Cedars from four to six
feet in diameter, stately Balsam. Firs, a considerable variety
of White, Red, Live, and Rock Oaks, with a few other trees.
Such a wealth of nmag,nificent timber profoundly impresses the 
.RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
traveller, who has seen nothing like it since he left the
eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, and a plentiful lack of
trees everywhere else since he bade adieu to the Kansas, now
so many hundred miles away. The valleys and lower slopes
of California are often quite bare, though wide-branching
Oaks are thinly scattered over a portion of the latter; and I
saw here- what I never saw elsewhere- living trees (Buckeye) six to eight inches through, with every leaf killed by
drouth on the 1st of August, so that they would exhibit no
sign of verdure again till after the heavy rains of the ensuing
Winter. The dryness of earth and atmosphere on the Pacific
slope in Summer and Autumn can only be realized by those
who have experienced it. I saw the Mormon farmers cutting
heavy grass by the margin of Salt Lake; but they found no
process of hay-makinig necessary. Though its color was still
a bright green, they raked it up unspread, and stacked it
without ceremony, knowing that the atmosphere would meantime have sucked every atom of superfluous moisture out of
the greenest of it. I presume this is the case, southward of
Oregon, nearly or quite to the Isthmus of Darien.
My visit to the chief wonders of California -the Yosemite
and the Big Trees- was necessarily hurried, but otherwise
satisfactory. The sky was cloudless, as that of California almost uniformly is from May till October; the days were
warm, but not excessively so; the journey was made on
horseback, and in good part under the shade of giant evergreens. There were hundreds of acres covered almost exclusively by the Balsam Fir, sixty to eighty feet high, and one
to two feet in diameter, growing at an elevation of fully 5,000
feet above tide, where the snows of Winter are so heavy and
so many that the limbs of the Fir are depressed at their extremities, so as to form a series of umbrellas (as it were) rising
one above another.   Two high, steep mountains - one on.
either side of the South Merced- are surmounted by what,
in 1859, were difficult bridle-paths, ere you strike at "Grizzly
Flat," the source of a little runnel which meanders through
an upland meadow or grassy morass to the brink of the great
chasm, into which it pours itself by a fall of some 2,500 feet,
380 
THE SIERRA NEVADA.-THE YOSEMITE.
which dissolves it into a white foam, whence it is afflicted
with the lackadaisical appellation of " The Bridal Veil." The
fall is not to blame for this, but some of its early visitors are.
The Yosemite is the grandest marvel of the continent. It
is a rift or cleft in the Sierra Nevada, ten miles long, averaging half a mile wide at the bottom, and perhaps a mile at the
top; its depth ranging from 3,000 to 4,000 feet, though one or
two of the peaks on the north are said to rise 5,000 feet above
the surface of the Merced. There are three points at which
access is had to the valley,- one of them by clambering down
the rocks near its head; the other two by zigzagging down
either brink near its lower end. These are bridle-paths; the
other, a foot-path only. That on the side of Mariposa is two
miles long; and we were two good hours in winding down it
through woods, with the moon's rays obscured to us by the
interposition of the mountain whose north face we were descending. It was midnight when we reached its foot, and
halted in the narrow, grassy valley of the stream, right in
front of q perpendicular wall of gray granite 3,000 feet high,
with a few Yellow Pines rooted in the crevices which at long
intervals creased it, and seeming, with the mountain itself,
about to be precipitated upon us.
Nothing else dwells in my memory that is at all comparable
in awe-inspiring grandeur and sublimity to this wondrous
chasm.   I judge that the soft granite frequently found in
streaks or belts by the miners of California -  granite in
chemical composition, but of the consistency of a rather solid
boiled pudding- here existed on a much larger scale, until
the little river (in Summer, a large mill-stream only) gradually
dug it out, and bore it away, till the last of it had disappeared.
I was told in the valley that repeated efforts of miners to dig
down to the "bed-rock," in quest of mineral, had proved failures,  the sand and gravel, interspersed with bowlders, appearing unfathomable.  The little streams from either brink
which, at several points, leap into the valley, have, by the
aid of frost and freshet, hurled millions of tons of rock and
earth into the chasm, forming gigantic deposits of debris, over
which the road up the valley carries you, generally through
381 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
woodcls, affording difficult footing for men or animals, especially
by night. Fording brooks, stumbling over rocks, winding
among trees, it seemed to me that the six miles from the
point where we entered the Valley to the two cottages or huts
near its centre would never end; but they did end at last,
about 2 A. M.; and I dismounted, and lay down to a welcome,
though unquiet, slumber.  I was covered with boils (the penalty of drinking the alkaline waters of Colorado, Utah, and
Nevada), and had ridden in torture since noon, bearing my
weight on my toes, barely stuck into Mexican stirrups far too
small for me, whereby my feet had been so lamed that I could
scarcely walk; hence, the prospect of soon rising to resume
my travels was by no means alluring. I did rise, however;
took breakfast; rode to the head of the Valley; examined
with some care the famous fall; dined; and, at 2 P. M., started
homeward; reaching Clark's ranche, on the South Merced,
at 10 P. M.
Let me explain that the Yosemite fall is not that of the
Merced, which enters the valley, at its head, by several successive leaps in a wild, rocky gorge or canon, and leaves it by
one even more impracticable, —giant blocks of granite being
piled for hundreds of feet above the surface of the boiling
current, and completely hiding it from view. The Yosemite
is a side-stream or tributary, coming from the north or higher
mountains, and, having itself worn down its bed to a depth of
a thousand feet, leaps thence 2,600 feet into the chasm,
making a single plunge of 1,600 feet. When I saw it, there
was barely water in the Yosemite to turn the wheels of an
average grist-mill; but in Winter and Spring there is probably twenty to forty times as much. The spectacle is rather
pleasing than sublime, -the Mississippi, when in highest
flood, having scarcely sufficient volume to save such a descent
from seeming disproportioned and trivial.
Of Big Trees, there are two principal groups in California,the Calaveras and the Mariposas.  The former is more widely
known, because quite accessible; and it boasts two or three
of the larg,est trees; but it has barely 250 in all, while the
382 
THE YOSEMITE. - THE BIG TREES.
Mariposas has 600. They stand in a shallow valley or depression on the mountains, some 5,000 feet above the sea
level, and 2,500 above the South Merced at Clark's, five miles
distant.
That which was clearly largest fell several years ago, burying itself in the stony earth to a depth of four feet, and exhibiting a length of nearly or quite 400 feet. Formerly, two
horses were ridden abreast for some 200 feet through the
cavity, which successive fires had enlarged in it. It is still
easy thus to ride through it, but the hollow has been burned
out, so that it is now much shorter. Several of the trees still
standing and alive are said to be over 100 feet in circumference; many are 80 to 90 feet, with a bark at least eighteen
inches thick, a very little sap (white) under it,- the residue
of the enormous bulk being a light, dry, reddish heart, which
burns easily, even while the tree is green, but is scarcely
prone to natural decay. Several of these giants rise a full
hundred feet before putting forth a limb; none have many
branches,.but some of these are six feet through. They are
a species of Cedar, -identical with the Cedars of Lebanon,
our guide asserted; but I presume he only guessed so. Their
foliage is scarcely, if at all, larger than that of the Yellow
Pines and White Cedars growing among or near them; many
of these being six to eight feet in diameter near the earth.
Within the next two years, the Central Pacific RPailroad
will have been completed, when passengers will leave New
York on Monday morning, and dine in San Francisco the
sixth evening thereafter. Then the trip, which I found tedious and rugged, will be rapid and easy, with every needed
comfort and luxury proffered on arid stretches of desert,
where I washed down the Mail Company's ancient pork and
hot saleratus bread with more unwholesome and detestable warm alkaline water than (I trust) I shall ever be constrained to swallow hereafter. I hope to be one of the party
who make the first excursion through trip to San Francisco,
there to rejoice with my countrymen in the completion of the
grandest and most beneficent enterprise ever inaugurated and
perfected by man.
383 
XLVII.
THE FUTURE OF CALIFORNIA.
LINGERP yet by the shores of the vast Pacific; for I feel
that the general mind is still inadequately impressed with
the majestic promise that impels the resistless tendency of
our Gothic race toward the sands of that mighty sea. I do
grievously err, if the historian of a future century does not
instance the discovery of the Columbia by a Yankee, and the
finding of Gold in Upper California so soon after that country
had fallen into our hands, as among the most memorable and
fortunate incidents in the annals of our continent, and hence
of mankind.
On Gold per se, I place no high estimate. If all the science
and labor which have been devoted by our people to the discovery and extraction of the Precious Metals had been as
faithfully applied to the production of Iron, Coal, Copper,
Lead, Tin, Salt, Gypsum, Marble, Slate, &c., I believe our
country would have been richer and our people wiser and
happier. Even if we could regard the abundant possession
of Gold and Silver as a chief good, it is plain that the countries which produce are not those which most amply retain
and enjoy them.
But mines or deposits of Gold and Silver are prominent
among the means whereby attention and population are
drawn to a region previously unpeopled, or thinly peopled by
savages. Men rush madly and in thousands to a district reported auriferous; defying famine, heat, cold, pestilence, and
even death itself. Mining or washing for Gold combines the
fascinations of gambling- the chance of sudden riches 
THE FUTURE OF CALIFORNIA.
with the sober incitements of regular and laudable industry:
hence, it always did, and always will, allure vast numbers to
brave peril and privation in its behoof. In time, the bubble
bursts; the glamour is dispelled; but thousands have mean timne found new homes and formed new habits; hence, a new
civilized community.
I judge that gold-mining in California is nearly "played
out." True, there are many good veins there which will con tinue to be worked at a profit for hundreds of years yet,
during which many more and some better will doubtless be
discovered and opened; but this is sober business, requiring
capital, science, luck, patience, to insure success; while the
jovial, free-handed heroes of pick and pan have passed away
forever, - some to Nevada; some to Arizona; others to
Montana, Idaho, &c., &c.,   many to the land of shadows, and the river-beds and "gulches" that knew them shall
know them no more.  California still exports Gold largely;
but most of it is produced in Nevada, Montana, British Columbia, &c., &c.  She for years produced Fifty Millions per
annum; she has fallen off at least half; she is likely soon to
fall still lower. I presume the child is born who will live to
see her annual product fall below Ten Millions.
Yet her natural wealth will still be great, being varied,
vast, and indestructible.  I group it under these heads:  I. Soil.- Of her ninety millions of acres, I should deem
not over twenty millions decidedly arable; but these are, for
the most part, exceedingly fertile. I judge that her great
valleys were once arms of the sea, since gradually filled up
by the continual abrasion and wearihg away of the slopes of
her omnipresent mountains. Many of them have now from
100 to at least 1,000 feet in depth of warm, mellow soil, -a
marine deposit of sand, clay, and vegetable mould, in nearly
equal proportions, wherein the plough very rarely disturbs a
stone. I never saw land better calculated to produce large
crops, year after year, with a moderate outlay of labor. The
absence of rain in Summer and early Autumn keeps down
weeds; while the unclouded, fervid sun hastens growth and
25
385 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
insures perfection.  I am confident that Cotton, and even
Cane, might be grown to profit throughout the southern half
of the State, in which the Fig, the Olive, and the Apricot
grow luxuriantly and ripen unfailingly.
II. Water. - Though I saw large fields of heavy Indian
Corn which grew and ripened without receiving a drop of
rain, I nevertheless realize and admit that water is a desirable
facility to vegetable growth and maturity. And, as cultivation is here mostly confined to valleys and the lower slopes
of mountains, water is abundantly procurable. Artesian wells
are easily dug; their flow is apt to be generous, as well as
constant; and a small stream, well managed, amply irrigate%
a very large field. Trees and vines root deep in that rich,
facile mould; the grape needs a very little water for two
years, and none thereafter; while its culture requires but half
the work needed here or in Europe, because our frequent rains
evoke innumerable weeds. I estimate that a ton of Grapes
may be produced in California with half the labor required
to grow them in Italy; and that Silk, most semi-tropical
Fruits, and I trust Tea, also, may be produced with equal
facility. Wheat and other small grains yield largely and
surely. I saw thousands of acres that had been two months
cut and shocked, yet still awaited the coming of the circulat ing thresher; other fields were yet uncut (September 1),
though long so dead-ripe that a large portion of the grain
must be shelled out and lost in the field, even under the most
careful handling.  I saw fifty acres of choice tree-fruits mainly Peaches and Apples- in a single patch; the Peaches
rotting by hundreds of bushels, because they could not be
gathered and marketed so fast as they ripened. I saw vast
tracts of good Mustard, self-sown and growing wild from year
to year, though apparently as good an article as ever ripened.
The intense drouth of her long, cloudless, dewless Summer
produces cracks and fissures in the earth, into which grains
and other seeds drop when dead-ripe; rains come and close
the fissures in November and later; the self-sown seed
germinates, and produces a "volunteer" crop,- a full one of
386 
THE FUTURE OF CALIFORNIA.
Mustard, but a half crop of Wheat, &c. I saw, at the Mission
of San Jose, giant pear-trees, planted some scores of years
ago by the Jesuits, and producing largely, but of indifferent
fruit, till a Yankee acquired and grafted them, when he sold
in San Francisco their product, the next year but one, so as
to net him $100 from each tree. I look forward to a day
when this country's supply of Raw Silk, as well as of Raisins
and other dried fruits, will reach us from our own Pacific
coast.
The rains of California are ample, but confined to Winter
and Spring. In time, her streams will be largely retained in
her mountains by dams and reservoirs, and, instead of descending in floods to overwhelm and devastate, will be gradually
drawn away throughout the Summer to irrigate and refresh.
For a while, water will be applied too profusely, and injury
thus be done; but experience will correct this error; and
then California's valleys and lower slopes will produce more
food to nourish and fruit to solace the heart of man than any
other Twenty Millions of acres on earth.
III. Timber.- Most of her highlands are valuable for timber and pasturage only. There are more tons of valuable
timber in the Sierra Nevada than in our whole country east
of the Rocky Mountains, and southward of the latitude of
Chicago. Railroads will yet render much of it commercially
available, and incite its diffusion to every country and island
washed by the great ocean. Its value will be found to surpass that of all the minerals covered by it, or ever exposed to
the avaricious gaze of man.
The Pacific Railroads - for there must soon be three distinct lines, and in time at least three more- will be to California what the Erie Canal is to New York, the Mississippi to
the great valley. It is barely possible to over-estimate their
importance and value. While they render New York that
focus of the world's commerce which London has so long
been, they must build up, on our Pacific coast, a traffic with
China, Japan, Australia, such as Tyre or Carthage never conceived. California has hitherto seemed, even to her own
387 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY -LI7E.
people, on one side of the earth; they have too generally felt
as strangers and sojourners, and talked of "going home," -
that is, to the Atlantic slope; but the Pacific Railroads, bringing them within a week's journey of New England, and placing them in daily mail communication with the friends of
their childhood, will make thousands contented with their
lot, and, after a good visit to the old, familiar firesides, they
will return, contented to end their days on the Pacific slope,
and will draw their younger brothers and cousins after them.
I predict that California will have Three Millions of people
in 1900, and Oregon at least One Million.
I close with a mere glance at San Francisco; because her
age has nearly doubled since I saw her, and her population,
wealth, and business, as well. At the mouth of the only considerable river that enters the Pacific from our continent,the Columbia and the Youkon excepted,- with a fair entrance, and an ample, safe harbor, I judge that the Pacific
Railroad fixes and assures her destiny as the second city of
America,- the emporium wherein the farthest East will exchange its products with the remotest West. I dislike her
chilly August fogs and winds, her blowing, drifting sands; I
might wish her relieved of the giant sand-bank which centuries have piled up between her and the Pacific; but then
her Western gales would be fiercer and sharper than now; so
it is best to leave her as she is. Since twenty years have
raised her from a naked beach to a city of 100,000 souls, who
can doubt that eighty more will see these swelled to, at least,
One Million? May Intelligence and Virtues keep even step
with her material progress! may the great-grandchildren of
her adventurous pioneers rejoice in the knowledge that her
stormy, irregular youth has given place to a sober, respected,
beneficent maturity! may her influence on the side of Freedom, Knowledge, Righteousness, be evermore greatly felt and
greatly blest throughout the awaking, wondering, plastic
Western world!
388 
XLVIII.
THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF 1860.
TIE  events of 1858-59, with certain demonstrations
against Senator Douglas and his doctrine of "Squatter
Sovereignty," by nearly all his Democratic brethren in the
Senate, early in the session of 1859- 60, plainly portended a
disruption of the dominant party; creating a strong probability
that the Republicans might choose the next President. I
had already, for months, contemplated that contingency, and
endeavored to fix on the proper candidate for President, in
view of its probable occurrence.
My choice was Edward Bates, of St. Louis. iHe had been
sole Representative of Missouri in Congress fully thirty years
before, when he had heartily supported the administration of
John Quincy Adams. He had since been mainly in retirement, save that he had presided with eminent ability over
the River and Harbor Convention held at Chicago in 1847,
and had held a local judgeship. Born in Virginia, a life-long
slaveholder, in politics a Whig, he was thoroughly conservative, and so held fast to the doctrine of our Revolutionary
sag,es, that Slavery was an evil to be restricted, not a good to
be diffused.  This conviction made him essentially a Republican; while I believed that he could poll votes in every
Slave State, and, if elected, rally all that was left of the Whig
party therein to resist Secession and Rebellion.  If not the
only Republican whose election would not suffice as a pretext
for civil war, he seemed to me that one most likely to repress
the threatened insurrection, or, at the worst, to crush it. I
did not hesitate to avow my preference, though I may have
withheld some of my reasons for it. 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
Many Republicans dissented from it most decidedly; one
of them said to me, "Let us have a candidate, this time, that
represents our most advanced convictions."
"My friend," I inquired, "suppose each Republican voter
in our State were to receive, to-morrow, a letter, advising him
that he (the said voter) had just lost his brother, for some
years settled in the South, who had left him a plantation and
half a dozen slaves,- how many of the two hundred and fifty
thousand would, in response, declare and set those slaves
free?"  "I don't think I could stand that test myself!" was
his prompt rejoinder. "Then," I resumed, "it is not yet
time to nominate as you propose."
The Republican National Convention was called to meet at
Chicago, May 16, 1860, and I attended it, having been requested by the Republicans of Oregon to act as one of their
delegates therein. Governor Seward was the most prominent
candidate for the Presidential nomination, warmly backed by
the delegations from New York, Michigan, and several other
States, including most of those from Massachusetts. I was
somewhat surprised to meet there quite a number who, in
conversations with me and others, had unhesitatingly pronounced his nomination unadvisable, and likely to prove disastrous, now on hand to urge it. I strongly felt that they
had been right before, and were wrong now; and I did what
I could to counteract their efforts; visiting, to this end, and
briefly addressing, the delegations from several States. I did
much less than was popularly supposed; being.kept busy for
ten or twelve of the most critical hours just preceding the
ballotings in the committee of one delegate from each State
represented that framed and reported the platform. An effort
to concentrate, prior to the balloting, all the anti-Seward votes
on one candidate, proved unsuccessful; and the probability
of Seward's success seemed thereafter so decided, that one of
his leading supporters urged me, just before we began to ballot, to name the man whose nomination for Vice-President
would be most effective in reconciling those with whom I
acted to the support of Governor Seward. I advised, through
390 
THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF 1860.
him, the Seward men to make the whole ticket satisfactory to
themselves. We soon proceeded to vote for a candidate for
President, with the following result:
William H. Seward, of New York,
Abraham Lincoln, of Illinois,..
Simon Cameron of Pennsylvania,.
Salmon P. Chase, of Ohio,....
Edward Bates, of Missouri,...
William L. Dayton, of New Jersey,
John McLean, of Ohio,....
Jacob Collamer, of Vermont,..
Scattering,.........
Mr. Lincoln having very nearly votes enough to nominate
him on the third ballot, others were rapidly transferred to
him, until he had 354 out of 466 in all, and his nomination
was declared. On motion of William M. Evarts, on the part
of New York, seconded by John A. Andrew on behalf of
Massachusetts, the nomination was then made unanimous.
On the first ballot for Vice-President, Hannibal Hamlin, of
Maine, received 194 votes, which the next ballot swelled to
367 against 99, - when he, too, was unanimously nominated;
and the Convention adjourned with nine hearty cheers for
the ticket.
The "Constitutional Union" (late "American") party, met
by delegates three days later in Baltimore, declared its platform to be "the Constitution of the country, the Union of
the States, and the enforcement of the Laws," and nominated
thereon John Bell, of Tennessee, for President, and Edward
Everett, of Massachusetts, for Vice-President.
The Democratic National Convention* had met originally
at Charleston, South Carolina; had quarrelled over a platform
for a week or more; and had finally been disrupted by the
withdrawal of a majority of the delegates from Slave States,
because of the adoption (by a vote of 165 to 138) of a platform which was held to favor, or at least not explicitly to
condemn, Senator Douglas's "Squatter-Sovereignty" dogma.
* April 23.
391
Ist ballot.
. 173-1
2
. 102
.   50i
. 49
. 48
. 14
. 12
.   10
. 6
2d ballot.
1841
1812
421
u
35
10
8
4
3d b.Zlot.
180
231i
24i
22
5
2 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFEE.
After taking 57 ballots for President, whereon Mr. Douglas
had a decided majority of all the votes cast on every ballot,
and a majority of a full Convention, that body, by a vote of
195 to 55, adjourned* to reassemble at Baltimore, June 18;
at which time (the places of most of the seceders having
meantime been filled) Mr. Douglas received on the first ballot
1732, and on the second 1811 votes, which was less than
two-thirds of a full Convention (303). He was thereupon,
on motion of Sanford E. Church, of New York, declared the
nominee.
Hon. Benjamin Fitzpatrick, of Alabama, was unanimously
nominated for Vice-President; but he declined, and Hon.
Herschel V. Johnson, of Georgia, was put up in his stead.
The bolters at Charleston met in Baltimore on the 11th
of June, but adjourned to the 25th; at which time, Hon. John
C. Breckinridge, of Kentucky (then Vice-President), was
unanimously nominated for President, with General Joseph
Lane, of Oregon, for Vice-President.
The quadrangular contest thus inaugurated has had no
parallel but a very imperfect one in 1824. It seems clear
that the bolting Democratic ticket was intended to render
the success of the RPepublicans inevitable; and the probability
of that success was openly exulted over in 4th of July toasts
at various celebrations in South Carolina, where no other candidate than Breckinridge had even a nominal support. Yet
in New York the supporters of Douglas, of Bell, and of Breckinridge united on a common ticket, which was defeated, but
only after a most determined canvass. In other States, the
"fusion" was incomplete or non-existent, rendering Mr. Lincoln's success a foregone conclusion. Mr. Douglas, alone
among the Presidential candidates, took the stump, and spoke
with vigor and energy in several States, but to little purpose.
The popular vote in the Free States was mainly divided
between Lincoln and Douglas; in the Slave States, between
Breckinridge and Bell: the totals in either section being, as
nearly as they can be apportioned, as follows:
* May3.
392 
THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION OF 1860.
BBreckinridge.
279,211
570,871
'850,082
Lincoln.
Free States,..... 1,831,180
Slave States......       26,430
Total,... 1,857,610
Mr. Lincoln had 180 electoral votes to 123 for all others;
he having the full vote of all the Free States but New Jersey,
which gave him 4. Mr. Douglas had barely 3 in New Jersey, with the 9 of Missouri,- 12 in all, - while Breckinridge,
with a much smaller popular vote, had 72 electors; barely
missing those of Virginia, also Kentucky and Tennessee,
making 39 in all.
Mr. Lincoln's popular and electoral vote were each a
little larger than those of Mr. Buchanan in 1856; but, practically, the one result had strong points of resemblance to the
other.   In the former, a united South triumphed over a
divided North; in the latter, a United North succeeded over
a divided South. But the division affected only the Presidency; the anti-Republicans still held the Supreme Court,
with the.Senate, and were morally certain of a large majority
also in the new House of Representatives, whereof two thirds
of the members were chosen with or before the Presidential
Electors.
Thus stood the country on the day after that which recorded the popular verdict for Lincoln and HIamlin.
It is true that the moral weight of that verdict was diminished by the consideration that it was pronounced by barely
two fifths of the legal voters. Antagonist on other points as
the defeated factions were, it was notorious that they were a
unit in opposition to the cardinal Republican principle of No
Extension of Slavery, which, by acting in concert, they could
at any time arrest and defeat. Yet the election of Lincoln,
by placing the Executive patronage of the Government in the
hands of a Republican, had done much toward the development throughout the South of that latent anti-Slavery sentiment which her aristocracy abhorred and dreaded. In that
election, therefore, many slaveholders saw foreshadowed the
doom of their cherished "institution."
393
Douglas,
1,128,049
163,525
1,291,,574
Be/.
130,151
515,973
646,124 
XLIX.
SECESSION,-HOW CONFRONTED.
TiHE popular vote * in each State for Presidential Electors
having rendered inevitable the success of Lincoln and
Hamlin, the result - immediately ascertained and disseminated by means of the telegraph - was nowhere received with
more general expressions of satisfaction than in South Carolina, whose ruling caste had, months before, but especially on
the preceding 4th of July, indicated their wish and hope that
the election would have this issue. Indeed, we Republicans
had been fully aware, throughout the canvass, that the division of the Democratic party effected at the Charleston Convention was designed to assure our success, -not as an end,
but as a means,- and that those who supported Breckinridge,
while they would have regarded his election with complacency, were quite as well satisfied with that of Lincoln. Much
as they disliked - nay, detested- the "Black Republicans,"
they regarded Senator Douglas and his "Squatter Sovereignty" with an intenser aversion, and were bent on their
absolute discomfiture at all hazards.
All revolutionary movements derive their momentum from
diverse sources, and are impelled by very different agencies.
Of the four and a half millions of voters for President in
1860, it is quite safe to say that all who desired Disunion
were included within the 850,000 t who voted for Breckin
* November 6, 1860.
t As South Carolina then chose her electors by her Legislature, her people
do not count in this aggregate, which they would probably have swelled to
about 900,000. 
SECESSION.-HOW CONFRONTED.
ridge; but even this fraction should, in justice, be divided
into classes, as follows:  I. The Disunionists, pure and simple, who, believing Slavery
the only natural and stable basis of social order, and noting
the steady advance of the Free States in relative wealth,
population, and power, deemed the Secession and Confederation of the Slaveholding States the only course consistent
with their interests or their safety. I doubt whether this
class numbered half a million of the fifteen hundred thousand
legal voters residing in the Slave States, while it could count
no open adherents in the Free States.
II. Those who, while they perceived neither safety nor
sense in Secession, did not choose to be stigmatized as Abolitionists nor hooted as cowards, but preferred the remote, contingent perils even of civil war to the imminent certainty of
persecution and social outlawry, if they should be pointed out
as lacking the courage or the will to risk all, dare all, in defence of "Southern rights."
III. Those who, while at heart hostile to Disunion,- deeming it no remedy for existing ills, while it opened a new vista
of untold, awful calamities, -yet regarded the menace of
Secession with complacency, as certain  to frighten "the
North" into any and every required concession and retraction
to avert the threatened disruption.
It was this third class -I judge more numerous than,
while superior in wealth and social consideration to, the first
and second combined- that I deemed it our first duty to
resist and baffle.
I had for forty years been listening, with steadily diminishing patience, to Southern threats of Disunion. Whatever an
awakened conscience, or an enlightened apprehension of National interest, commended to a majority of the North as just
and politic, was - if not equally acceptable at the South
-apt to be met by the bravado, " Do what you propose, and
we will dissolve the Union!" I had become weary of this,
and desirous of ending it. In my cherished conception, the
Union was no boon conferred on the North by the South, but
395 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
a voluntary partnership, at least as advantageous to the latter
as to the former. I desired that the South should be made
to comprehend and respect this truth. I wished her to realize
that the North could do without the South quite as well as
the South could do without the North.
For the first breath of Disunion from the South fanned into
vigorous life the old spirit of compromise and cringing at the
North.  "What will you do to save the Union?" was asked
of us Republicans, as if we had committed some enormity in
voting for and electing Lincoln, which we must now atone by
proffering concessions and disclaimers to the justly alarmed
and irritated South.
At once, the attitude of the North became alarmed, deprecatory, self-abasing. Every local election held during the two
months succeeding our National triumph showed great "Conservative" gains. Conspicuous Abolitionists were denied the
use of public halls, or hooted down if they attempted to speak.
Influential citizens, through meetings and letters, denounced
the madness of "fanaticism," and implored the South to stay
her avenging arm until the North could have time to purge
herself from complicity with "fanatics," and demonstrate her
fraternal sympathy with her Southern sister,- that is, attest
her unshaken loyalty to the Slave Power. An eminent
Southern Conservative (John J. Crittenden) having proposed,
as a new Union-saving compromise, the running of the line
of 36 degrees 30 minutes North latitude through our new
territories to the Pacific, and the positive allotment and
guaranty of all South of that line to Slavery forever, the suggestion was widely grasped as an olive-branch,- even the
veteran Thurlow Weed commending the proposal to popular
favor and acceptance as fair and reasonable. The Republican
party -which had been called into existence by the opening
of free soil to Slavery- seemed in positive danger of signalizing its advent to power by giving a direct assent to the practical extension of Slavery over a region far larger and more
important than that theoretically surrendered by the KansasNebraska bill. In fact, the attitude of the North, during the
396 
SECESSION, -HOW CONFRONTED.
two last months of' 1860, was foreshadowed in four lines of
Collins's   Ode to the Passions:
"First, Fear his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewildered laid;
And back recoiled, he knew not why,
E'en at the sound himself had made."
And the danger was imminent that, if a popular vote could
have been had (as was proposed) on the Crittenden Compromise, it would have prevailed by an overwhelming majority. Very few Republicans would have voted for it; but
very many would have refrained from voting at all; while
their adversaries would have brought their every man to the
polls in its support, and carried it by hundreds of thousands.
My  own controlling conviction from first to last was,There must, at all events, be no' concession to Slavery. Disunion, should it befall, may be calamity; but complicity in
Slavery extension is guilt, which the Republicans must in no
case incur.  It had for an age been the study of the slaveholding politicians to make us of the North partners with
them in the maintenance, diffusion, and profit or loss of their
industrial system.  "Slavery is quite as much your affair as
ours," they were accustomed to say in substance: "we own
and work the negroes; you buy the cotton and sugar produced by their labor, and sell us in return nearly all we
and they eat, drink, and wear. If they run away, you help
catch and return them: now set us off a few hundred thousand miles more of territory whereon to work them, and help
us to acquire Cuba, Mexico, &c., as we shall say we need
them, and we will largely extend our operations, to our
mutual benefit." It was this extension that I was resolved at
all hazards to defeat.
But how?
Good and true men met the Disunionists (whether earnest
or'affected) in this square, manly way: "You must obey the
laws. The Union will not be tamely surrendered, and cannot
be dissolved by force. Whoever shall attempt thus to dissolve it will have reason to repent of his temerity. Behave
yourselves, or you will rue your turbulence 1 "
397 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
To me, as to some others, a different course seemed advisable.  We said in substance: "You Disunionists claim to be
the Southern people, and rest your case on the vital principle
proclaimed in our fathers' immortal Declaration of Independence, -'Governments derive their just power from the consent of the governed.' We admit the principle,-nay, we affirm,
we glory in it; but your case is not within it. You are not
the Southern people; you are not even a majority of the
Southern Whites; you are a violent, unscrupulous, desperate
minority, who have conspired to clutch power and wield it
for ends which the overawed, gagged, paralyzed majority at
heart condemn.   Secure us a fair opportunity to state our
side of the case, and to argue the points at issue before your
people, and we. will abide their decision. We disclaim a
union of force, -a union held together by bayonets; let us
be fairly heard; and, if your people decide that they choose
to break away from us, we will interpose no obstacle to their
peaceful withdrawal from the Union."
Whether this was, or was not, in the abstract, sound doctrine, it is clear that those who uttered it exposed themselves
to ready misapprehension and grave obloquy, which were
counterbalanced by no advantage or profit to themselves.
Their consolation was that they had done something toward
arresting the spring-tide of Northern servility that set strongly
in favor of "conciliation" through the adoption of the Crittenden Compromise.
They were right at least in their fundamental assumption
of fact. The South was not for Secession. Though its partisans had previously made skilful use of the machinery of
the Democratic party to secure Governors, Legislatures, &c.
in their interest, and the Federal officers -appointed by
Pierce and Buchanan while Jefferson Davis, Jacob Thompson, John B. Floyd, Howell Cobb, John Slidell, &c., were
their trusted advisers — were nearly all implicated in their
conspiracy, the Disunionists, wholly unresisted by President
]uchanan, were enabled, by their utmost efforts, to alienate
but a minority of the Southern States or People from the
398 
SECESSION, - HOW CONFRONTED.
Federal Union. South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Florida, and Texas-seven States in all,
entitled to but twenty-eight representatives in Congresswere claimed as having seceded, up to the hour wherein War
was formally inaugurated by an order from the Confederate
War Department to open fire upon the Federal fortress named
Sumter, in Charleston harbor. In no one of these States but
Texas had the ordinance of Secession been submitted to, and
ratified by, a direct popular vote. The eight other Slave
States, which had double their free population and double
their representation in Congress, had not merely declined to
secede, - Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Missouri, had
given such majorities against it as they never gave before;
North Carolina and Arkansas had expressly voted it down;
while Maryland and Delaware refused even to take the matter into consideration. In fact, the people of the South, like
those of the North, were as yet unripe for Disunion, and
shuddered at thie prospect of civil war. The bombardment
of Sumter, which summoned the Nation to arms, was impelled
by a consciousness that the mushroom Confederacy would
otherwise collapse and disappear. Said Jeremiah Clemens,
formerly United States Senator from Alabama, at a Union
meeting at Huntsville, March 13, 1864:
"I wish to state a fact in relation to the oommencement of this
war. Some time after the ordinance of Secession was passed I
was in Montgomery, and called on President Davis, who was in
that city. Davis, Memminger, the Secretary of War [Leroy Pope
Walker], Gilchrist, the member from Lowndes County, and several
others, were present.   As I entered, the conversation ceased.
They were evidently discussing the propriety of firing on Fort
Sumter. Two or three of them withdrew to a corner of the room;
and I heard Gilchrist say to the Secretary of War:' It MUST be
done. Delay two months, and Alabama stays in the Union. You
must sprinkle blood in the faces of the people."
So said, so done, - except that the "sprinkle" swelled into
a cascade, the cascade into a river, which inundated and reddened the whole breadth of our country.
399 
OUR CIVIL WAR,- ACTUAL AND POSSIBLE.
OSTILITIES on the part of the Confederacy had been
inaugurated weeks before Mr. Lincoln's accession to
the Presidency. The Federal forts, arsenals, armories, subtreasuries, &c., &c., located in the seceding States, had, in
good part, thus changed hands,'- often with the hearty assent and cooperation of their custodians, - always without
serious resistance offered by them or commanded from Washington. Fort Sumter, Key West, and Fort Piekens (at Pensacola) were all that held out for the Union.   General
Twiggs's surrender * of the greater part of our little Army,
then posted along the exposed frontiers of Texas, with all
the forts, arms, munitions, stores, &c., occurred two weeks before the close of Mr. Buchanan's term. Still, the fact that
war existed, or even that it was inevitable, was not generally
realized in the Free States, till the telegraph flashed far and
wide the startling news that fire had been opened t on Fort
Sumter from the Rebel forts and batteries whereby it was
half encircled, - following this, next day, with the tidings
that the feebly manned and nearly foodless fort had surrendered. Hereupon, Virginia was promptly plunged by her
Convention into the widening vortex of Secession; and was
soon followed by Arkansas, t North Carolina,~ and ultimately
by Tennessee. I
Meantime, President Lincoln, directly on hearing of the
fall of Sumter, had summoned the new Congress to meet in
* February 18, 1861.
t April 12, 1861.
L.
tMay 6, 1861.
~ May 20, 1861.
[I June 8, 1861. 
OUR CIVIL WAR, -ACTUUAL AND POSSIBLE.  401
extraordinary session on the 4th of July ensuing, and had
called on the Governors of the presumptively loyal States for
their respective quotas of a volunteer force of 75,000 men to
defend the capital and public property of the Union. The
Governors, not only of Virginia (which was then on the point,
if not in the act, of seceding), but of North Carolina, Tennessee, Missouri, Kentucky, and even Delaware, responded only
with "railing accusations," implying amazement that any
President should ask or expect their help in the nefarious
work of "coercion." From the Governors of the Free States
(nearly or quite all Republicans) very different responses were
received, swiftly followed by the required volunteers.   One
of the first regiments on foot was from Massachusetts, and
was fiercely assailed* on its passage through Baltimore by a
vast pro-Slavery mob, whereby three of its men were slain
and eight seriously wounded. The residue made their way
through the city, and proceeded to Washington; but a Pennsylvania regiment, just behind it, was roughly handled by the
mob, and constrained to take the back track to Philadelphia.
Baltimore thereupon ranged herself on the side.of Secession,
stopping  the trains and cutting the wires that connected
Washington with the still loyal States; the Federal Arsenal
at Harper's Ferry, being menaced, was fired and abandoned;
the Navy Yard at Norfolk was culpably deserted, leaving two
thousand cannon and large supplies of munitions to the exulting Confederates; a Confederate camp was established near
St. Louis, under the auspices of Governor Jackson, and men
openly enlisted and drilled there for the work in prospect;
the South was closed to Northern travel and commerce, and
everything portended a formidable, bloody, devastating war.
Yet President Lincoln persisted in what seems to me his
second grave mistake, - that of underestimating the spirit
and power of the Rebellion. He had called for but 75,000
men when apprised that Fort Sumter had fallen; he called
for no more when assured that Virginia and North Carolina
had been swept into the vortex of Secession by that open
* April 19, 1861.
26 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
defiance of the National authority and assault on the National
integrity; that Arkansas and Tennessee were on the point
of following their bad example; and that even Maryland and
Missouri were, at least for the moment, in the hands of those
who fully shared the animus and sympathized with the aims
of the Disunionists. It was now plain that the Slave Power
was the Nation's assailant, and that its motto was, "War to
the knife!" I think the President should have changed his
tactics in view of the added gravity of the public danger. I
think he should have invited the people to assemble on a des
ignated early day in their several wards and townships, then
and there to solemnly swear to uphold the Government and
Union, and to enroll themselves as volunteers for the war,
subject to be called out at his discretion. Each man's age, as
well as name, should have been recorded; and then he should
have called them out in classes as they should be wanted,say, first, those of 20 to 25 years old; secondly, those between
25 and 30; and so on. I judge that not less than One Million able-bodied men would have thus enrolled themselves;
that the first two calls would have provided a force of not
less than two hundred thousand men; and that subsequent
calls, though less productive, would have supplied all the men
from time to time required, without cost and without material
delay.
The Confederate Congress had met at Montgomery, Alabama, held a brief session, and adjourned to reconvene at
Richmond on the 4th of July. I hold that it should not
have been allowed so to meet, but that a Union army, One
Hundred Thousand strong, should have occupied that city
early in June, - certainly before the close of that month.
Richmond was not yet fortified; it was accessible by land
and by water; we firmly held Fortress Monroe; the designated capital of the Confederacy should never have received
its Congress, but should have witnessed such a celebration of
the anniversary of American Independence as had never yet
thrilled its heart.  The war-cry, "Forward to Richmond!"
did not originate with me; but it is just what should have
402
4" 
OUR CIVIL WAR,-ACTUAL AND POSSIBLE  403
been uttered, and the words should have been translated into
deeds.
Instead of energy, vigor, promptness, daring, decision, we
had in our councils weakness, irresolution, hesitation, delay;
and, when at last our hastily collected forces, after being demoralized by weeks of idleness and dissipation, were sent
forward, they advanced on separate lines, under different commanders; thus enabling the enemy to concentrate all his
forces in Virginia against a single corps of ours, defeating and
stampeding it at Bull Run, while other Union volunteers,
aggregating nearly twice its strength, lay idle and useless near
Harper's Ferry, in and about Washington, and at Fortress
Monroe.  Thus what should have been a short, sharp struggle
was expanded into a long, desultory one; while those whose
blundering incapacity or lack of purpose was responsible for
those ills united in throwing the blame on the faithful few
who had counselled justly, but whose urgent remonstrances
they had never heeded.  "Forward to Richmond!" was execrated as.the impulse to disaster, even by some who had lustily echoed it; and weary months of halting, timid, nerveless,
yet costly warfare, naturally followed. Men talk reproachfully of the heavy losses incurred by Grant in taking Richmond, forgetting that his predecessors had lost yet more in
not taking it. In war, energy -prompt and vigorous action
- is the true economizer of suffering, of devastation, and of
life. Had Napoleon or Jackson been in Scott's place in 1861,
the Rebelion would have been stamped out ere the close of
that year; but Slavery would have remained to scourge us
still. Thus disaster is overruled to subserve the ends of
beneficence; thus the evil of the moment contains the germ
of good that is enduring; and thus is freshly exemplified the
great  truth proclaimed by Pope:
"In spite of pride, in erring Reason's spite,
One truth is clear, - WHiATEVER IS, IS RIGHT." 
LI.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
THERE are those who say that Mr. Lincoln was fortu   nate in his death as in his life: I judge otherwise.  I
hold himh most inapt for the leadership of a people involved
in desperate, agonizing war; while I deem few men better
fitted to guide a nation's destinies in time of peace. Especially do I deem him eminently fitted to soothe, to heal, and
to reunite in bonds of true, fraternal affection a people just
lapsing into peace after years of distracting, desolating interial strife.  His true career was just opening when an assassin's bullet quenched his light of life.
Mr. Lincoln entered Washington the victim of a grave delusion. A genial, quiet, essentially peaceful man, trained in
the ways of the bar and the stump, he fully believed that
there would be no civil war,- no serious effort to consummate Disunion. His faith in Reason as a moral force was so
implicit that he did not cherish a doubt that his Inaugural
Address, whereon he had bestowed much thought and labor,
would, when read throughout the South, dissolve the Confederacy as frost is dissipated by a vernal sun. I sat just behind
him as he read it, on a bright, warm, still March day, expecting to hear its delivery arrested by the crack of a rifle aimed
at his heart; but it pleased God to postpone the deed, though
there was forty times the reason for shooting him in 1860
that there was in'65, and at least forty times as many intent
on killing or having him killed. No shot was then fired, however; for his hour had not yet come.
Almost every one has personal anecdotes of "Old Abe." 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
I knew him more than sixteen years, met him often, talked
with him familiarly; yet, while multitudes fancy that he
was always overflowing with jocular narrations or reminiscences, I cannot remember that I ever heard him tell an anecdote or story. One, however, that he did tell while in this
city, on his way to assume the Presidency, is so characteristic
of the man and his way of regarding portents of trouble,
that I here record it.
Almost every one was asking him, with evident apprehension if not perturbation: "What is to be the issue of this
Southern effervescence? Are we really to have civil war?"
and he once responded in substance as follows:  "Many years ago, when I was a young lawyer, and Illinois
was little settled, except on her southern border, I, with other
lawyers, used to ride the circuit; journeying with the judge
from county-seat to county-seat in quest of business. Once,
after a long spell of pouring rain, which had flooded the
whole country, transforming small creeks into rivers, we were
often stqpped by these swollen streams, which we with difficulty crossed. Still ahead of us was Fox River, larger than
all the rest; and we could not help saying to each other,'If
these streams give us so much trouble, how shall we get over
Fox River?'  Darkness fell before we  had reached that
stream; and we all stopped at a log tavern, had our horses
put out, and resolved to pass tl~ night. Here we were right
glad to fall in with the Methodist Presiding,Elder of the circuit, who rode it in all weather, knew all its ways, and could
tell us all about Fox River.  So we all gathered around him,
and asked him if he knew about the crossing of Fox River.
'O yes,' he replied,'I know all about Fox River. I have
crossed it often, and understand it well; but I have one fixed
rule with regard to Fox River: I never cross it till I reach
it.' "
I infer that Mr. Lincoln did not fully realize that we were
to have a great civil war till the Bull Run disaster. I cannot
otherwise explain what seemed to many of us his amazing
tameness when required by the Mayor and by the Young
405 
BRECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
Christians of Baltimore to promise not to have any more vol- 
unteers marched across the State of Maryland on their way
to the defence of Washington. Had he then realized that
bloody strife had become a dire necessity, I think he would
have responded with more spirit.
When we were at length unmistakably launched on the
stormy ocean of civil war, Mr. Lincoln's tenacity of purpose
paralleled his former immobility. I believe he world have
been nearly the last, if not the very last, man in America to
recognize the Southern Confederacy, had its arms been triumphant. He would have much preferred death.
This firmness impelled him to what seemed to me a grave
error. Because he would never consent to give up the Union,
he dreaded to recognize in any manner the existence of the
Confederacy. Yet such recognition, after the capture of several thousands of our soldiers, became inevitable. Had Fortune uniformly smiled on our arms, we might have treated
the Rebellion as a seditious riot; but our serious loss in prisoners at Bull Run rendered this thenceforth impossible. We
were virtually compelled to recognize the Confederates as
belligerents, by negotiating an exchange of prisoners. Thenceforth (it seems to me) we were precluded from treating them
as felons. And I could see no objection, not merely to receiving with courtesy any overtures for peace they might see fit
to make, but even to making overtures to them, as Great
Britain so publicly did to our Revolutionary fathers in the
Summer of'76.
War has become so fearfully expensive, through the progress of invention and machinery, that to protract it is to
involve all parties in bankruptcy and ruin. Belligerents are,
therefore, prone to protest their anxiety for Peace,- in most
cases, sincerely. Napoleon, though often at war, was always
proclaiming his anxiety for peace. It seemed to me, throughout our great struggle, that a more vigorous prosecution; alike
of War and of Peace, was desirable. Larger armies, in the
406 
ABRAHAMI LINCOLN.
average more energetically led, more ably handled, seemed to
be the National need, down to a late stage of the contest.
And I deemed it a mistake to put aside any overture that
looked to the achievement of peace. Instead of repelling
such overtures, however unpromising, I would have openly
welcomed any and all, and so treated each as to prove that
the continuance of war was not the fault of our side. And
so, when Henry May, Colonel Jacquess, and others, solicited
permission to go to Richmond in quest of Peace, I would
have openly granted them every facility, asking them only to
state distinctly that I had not sent nor accredited them.
And I judge that Mr. Lincoln slowly came to a conclusion
not dissimilar to mine, since Mr. F. P. Blair's two visits to
RPichmond were made with his full knowledge; while his
own visit to Fortress Monroe, there to'meet Confederate Commissioners and discuss with them terms of pacification, was a
formal notice to all concerned of his anxiety to stay the
effusion of blood. I believe that this conference did much to
precipitate the downfall of the tottering Confederacy.   I
doubt whether any one of Sherman's nearly simultaneous
successes did more. And, while Mr. Lincoln would have
been a tenacious champion of the authority and dignity of
the Union and the rights and security of all its loyal people,
I am sure the vanquished Rebels would have found him a
generous conqueror.
Mr. Lincoln died for his country as truly as any soldier
who fell fighting in the ranks of her armies. He was not
merely killed for her sake,-because of the high responsibilities she had a second time devolved on him, and the
fidelity wherewith he fulfilled them,- he was worn out in
her service, and would not, I judge, have lived out his official
term, had no one sought his immolation. When I last saw
him, a few weeks before his death, I was struck by his haggard, care-fraught face, so different from the sunny, gladsome
countenance he first brought from Illinois. I felt that his life
hung by so slender a thread that any new access of trouble
or excess of effort might suddenly close his career. I had
407 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
ceased to apprehend his assassination,  had ceased even to
think of it; yet "the sunset of life" was plainly looking out
of his kindly eyes and gleaming from his weather-beaten
visage.
I believe I neither enjoy nor deserve the reputation of favoring exorbitant allowances or lavish expenditures; yet I
feel that my country has been meanly parsimonious in its
dealings with Mr. Lincoln's family. The head of that family
was fairly elected and inaugurated President for a second
term; and he had scarcely entered upon that term when he.
was murdered because he was President. I hold that this
fact entitled his family to the four years' salary which the
people had voted to pay him; that the manner of his death
took his case entirely out of the category of mere decease
while in office; and that they should have been paid the
$100,000 which, but for Booth's bullet, would have been
theirs, instead of the one year's salary that was allowed them.
I am quite aware that Mrs. Lincoln was and is unpopular,I need not inquire with what reason, since I am not pleading
for generosity, but for naked justice. Buchanan, trembling at
the rustle of a leaf, served out his term, and was paid his full
salary; dying, seven years later, of natural decay. To withhold
Mr. Lincoln's pay because he invoked the hatred of assassins
by his fearless fidelity, and was therefore bereft of life when
in the zenith of his career, is to discourage fidelity and foster
pusillanimity. May not the wrong be redressed even yet?
Mr. Lincoln was emphatically a man of the people.  Mr.
Clay was called "The Great Commoner" by those who admired and loved him; but Clay was imperious, even haughty,
in his moods, with aristocratic tastes and faults, utterly
foreign to Lincoln's essentially plebeian nature. There never
yet was man so lowly as to feel humbled in the presence of
Abraham Lincoln; there was no honest man who feared or
dreaded to meet him; there was no virtuous society so rude
that, had he casually dropped into it, he would have checked
408 
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
innocent hilarity or been felt as a damper on enjoyment.
Had he entered as a stranger a logger's camp in the great
woods, a pioneer's bark-covered cabin in some new settlement, he would have soon been recognized and valued as one
whose acquaintance was to be prized and cultivated.
Mr. Lincoln was essentially a growing man. Enjoying no
advantages in youth, he had observed and reflected much
since he attained to manhood, and he was steadily increasing
his stock of knowledge to the day of his death. He was a
wiser, abler man when he entered upon his second than when
he commenced his first Presidential term. His mental processes were slow, but sure; if he did not acquire swiftly, he
retained all that he had once learned. Greater men our
country has produced; but not another whom, humanly
speaking, she could so ill spare, when she lost him, as the
victim of Wilkes Booth's murderous aim.
Though I very heartily supported it when made, I did not
favor his re-nomination as President; for I wanted the War
driven onward with vehemence, and this was not in his
nature. Always dreading that the National credit would
fail, or the National resolution falter, I feared that his easy
ways would allow the Rebellion to obtain European recognition and achieve ultimate success. But that "Divinity that
shapes our ends" was quietly working out for us a larger and
fuller deliverance than I had dared to hope for, leaving to
such short-sighted mortals as I no part but to wonder and
adore. We have had chieftains who would have crushed out the
Rebellion in six months, and restored "the Union as it was";
but God gave us the one leader whose control secured not
only the downfall of the Rebellion, but the eternal overthrow
of Human Slavery under the flag of the Great Republic.
409 
LII.
JEFFERSON DAVIS.
THE  President of the Southern Confederacy was chosen
by a capable, resolute aristocracy, with express reference to the arduous task directly before him. - The choice
was deliberate, and apparently wise. Mr. Davis was in the
mature prime of life; his natural abilities were good; his
training varied and thorough.   He  had been educated at
West Point, which, with all its faults, I judge the best school
yet established in our country; he had served in our little
army in peace, and as a Colonel of volunteers in the Mexican
Tar; returning to civil life, he had been conspicuous in the
politics of his State and the Nation; had been elected to the
Senate, and there met in courteous but earnest encounter
Henry Clay and his compeers; had been four years Secretary
of War under President Pierce; and had, immediately on his
retiring from that post, been returned to the Senate, whereof
his admirers styled him "the Cicero," and whereof he continued a member until-not without manifest reluctance
he resigned and returned to Mississippi to cast his future
fortunes into the seething caldron of Secession and Disunion.
As compared with the homely country lawyer, Abraham,
Lincoln, -reared in poverty and obscurity, with none other
than a common-s choo l education, and precious little of that;
whose familiarity with public affairs was confined to three
sessions of the Illinois Legislature and a single term in the
House of Representatives, -it would seem that the advantage of chieftains was largely on the side of the Confederacy.
The contrast between them was striking, but imperfect; 
JEFFERSON DAVIS.
for each was thoroughly in earnest, thoroughly persuaded of
the justice of the cause whereof he stood forth the foremost
champion, and signally gifted with that quality which, in the
successful, is termed tenacity, in the luckless, obstinacy.  Mr. 
Lincoln was remarkably devoid of that magnetic quality
which thrills the masses with enthusiasm, rendering them
heedless of sacrifice and insensible to danger; Mr. Davis was 
nowise distinguished by its possession.  As the preacher of a
crusade, either of them had many superiors.  But Mr. Davis
carefully improved - as Mr. Lincoln did not- every opportunity to proclaim his own undoubting faith in the justice of
his cause, and labored to diffuse that conviction as widely as 
possible.  His successive messages and other manifestoes were 
well calculated to dispel the doubts and inflame the zeal of
those who regarded him as their chief; while, apart from his
first Inaugural, and his brief speech at the Gettysburg celebration,* Mr. Lincoln made little use of his, many oppor- 
tutitjs,to demonstrate the justice and necessity of the War 
for the Union...
Mr. Davis; -after the fortunes of his Confederacy waned,
was loudly accused of favoritism in the allotment of Military
trusts. He is said to have distrusted and undervalued Joseph
Johnston, which, if so, was a grave error; for Johnston proved
himself an able and trustworthy commander, if not a great
military genius, - never a blunderer, and never intoxicated
by success nor paralyzed by disaster. His displacement in
1864 by Hood, as Commander-in-Chief of the Army of Georgia,
was proved a mistake; but it was more defensible than the
appointment of Halleck as General-in-Chief of our armies,
directly after his failure on the Tennessee. Bragg is named as
first of Davis's pets; but Bragg seems to me to have proved
himself a good soldier, and to have shown decided capacity at
the Battle of Stone River, though he was ultimately obliged
to leave the field (and little else) to Rosecrans.  Pemberton
was accounted another of Davis's overrated favorites; but
Pemberton, being of Northern birth, was never fully trusted,
* November 19, 1863.
411 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
nor fairly judged, by his compatriots. On a full survey of the
ground, I judge that Davis evinced respectable, not brilliant,
capacities, in his stormy and trying Presidential career; and
that his qualifications for the post were equal to, while his
faults were no greater than, Mr. Lincoln's.
This, however, was not the judgment of his compatriots,
who extravagantly exaggerated his merits while their cause
seemed to prosper, and as unjustly magnified his faults and
short-comings from the moment wherein their star first visibly
waned. They were ready to make him Emperor in 1862;
they regarded him as their evil genius in 1865.  Having
rushed into war in undoubting confidence that their success
was inevitable, they were astounded at their defeat, and impelled to believe that their resources had been dissipated and
their armies. overwhelmed through mismanagement. They
were like the idolater, who adores his god after a victory, but
flogs him when smarting under defeat.
A baleful mischance saved Mr. Davis from the fate of a
sc/pegoat. After even he had given up the Confederacy as
lost, and realized that he was no longer a President, but a
fugitive and outlaw, he was surprised and assailed, while
making his way through Georgia to the Florida coast with
intent to escape from the country,'.by two regiments of Union
cavalry, and captured. I am confident that this would not
have occurred had Mr. Lincoln survived, - certainly not, if
our shrewd and kind-hearted President could have prevented
it. But his murder had temporarily maddened the millions
who loved and trusted him; and his successor, sharing and
inflaming the popular frenzy, had put forth a Proclamation
charging Davis, among others, with conspiracy to procure
that murder, and offering large rewards for their arrest as
traitors and assassins. Captured in full view of that Proclamation, he might have been forthwith tried by a drum-head
Court-Martial, "organized to convict," found guilty, sentenced,
and put to death.
This, however, was not done; but he was escorted to Savannah, thence shipped to Fortress Monroe, and there closely
412
I 
JEFFERSON DAVIS.
imprisoned, with aggravations of harsh and (it seems) needless indignity. An indictment for treason was found against
him; but he remained a military prisoner in close jail for
nearly two years, before even a pretence was made of arraigning him for trial
Meantime, public sentiment had become more rational and
discriminating. Davis was still intensely and widely detested as the visible embodiment, the responsible head, of the
Rebellion; but no one now seriously urged that he be tried
by Court-Martial and shot off-hand; nor was it certain that
a respectable body of officers could be found to subserve such
an end.  To send him before a civil tribunal, and allow him
a fair trial, was morally certain to result in a defeat of the
prosecution, through disagreement of the jury, or otherwise;
for no opponent of the Republican party, whether North or
South, would agree to find him guilty. And there was grave
doubt whether he could be legally convicted, now that the
charge of inciting Wilkes Booth's crime had been tacitly
abandoned.  AMr. Webster * had only given clearer expression
to the general American doctrine, that, after a revolt has levied
a regular army, and fought therewith a pitched battle, its
champions, even though utterly defeated, cannot be tried and
convicted as traitors. This may be an extreme statement;
but surely a rebellion which has for years maintained great
armies, levied taxes and conscriptions, negotiated loans, fought
scores of sanguinary battles with alternate successes and
reverses, and exchanged tens of thousands of prisoners of war,
can hardly fail to have achieved thereby the position and the
rights of a lawful belligerent. Just suppose the case (nowise
improbable) of two Commissioners for the exchange of prisoners,- like Mulford and Ould, for example, - who had for
years been meeting to settle formalities, and exchange boatloads of prisoners of war, until at length -the power represented by one of them having been utterly vanquished and
broken down-that one is arrested by the victors as a traitor,
and the other directed to prosecute him to conviction and
* In his first Bunker Hill Oration.
413 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
consign him to execution,- how would the case be regarded
by impartial observers in this later half of the Nineteenth
Century?  And suppose this trial to take place two years
after the discomfiture and break-down aforesaid,- what then?
Mr. Andrew Johnson had seen fit to change his views and
his friends since his unexpected accession to the Presidency,
and had, fromn an intemperate denouncer of the beaten Rebels
as deserving severe punishment, become their protector and
patron. Jefferson Davis, ini Fortress Monroe, under his proclamation aforesaid, was an ugly elephant on Johnson's hands;
and thousands were anxious that he should remain there.
Their view of the matter did not impress me as statesmanlike, nor even sagacious.
The Federal Constitution expressly provides* that,
"In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right
to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and
district wherein the crime shall have been committed," &c.
In times of war and grave public peril, Constitutions cannot
afways be strictly heeded; but what national interest required
that this provision should be persistently, ostentatiously defied?
An Irishman, swearing the peace against his three sons for
pertinaciously assaulting and abusing him, made this proper
reservation: "And your deponent would ask your honor to
deal tenderly with his youngest son, Larry, who never struck
him when he was down." I confess to some fellow-feeling
with Larry.
Mr. George Shea, the attorney of record for the defence in
the case of The United States versus Jefferson Davis, indicted
for treason, is the son of an old friend, and I have known and
liked him from infancy. After it had become evident that
his client had no immediate prospect of trial, if any prospect
at all, Mr. Shea became anxious that said client be liberated
on bail. Consulting me as to the feasibility of procuring
some names to be proffered as bondsmen of persons who had
* Amendments, Art. VI.
414
0 
JEFFERSON DAVIS.
conspicuously opposed the Rebellion and all the grave errors
which incited it, I suggested two eminent Unionists, who, I
presumed, would cheerfully consent to stand as security that
the accused would not run away to avoid the trial he had
long but unsuccessfully invoked. I added, after reflection,
"If my name should be found necessary, you may use that."
Hie thanked me, and said he should proffer it only in case the
others abundantly at his command would not answer without
it. Months passed before I was apprised, by a telegram from
Washington, that my name was needed; when I went down
and proffered it. And when, at length, the prisoner was
brought before the United States District Court at Richmond,*
I was there, by invitation, and signed the bond in due form.
I suppose this would have excited some hubbub at any
rate; but the actual tumult was gravely aggravated by gross
misstatements. It was widely asserted that the object of
giving bail was to screen the accused from trial, -in other
words, to enable him to run away,- when nothing like this
was everimagined by those concerned. The prisoner, through
his counsel, had assiduously sought a trial, while the prosecution was not ready, because (as Judge Underwood was
obliged to testify before a Committee of Congress) no conviction was possible, except by packing a jury. The words "straw
bail" were used in this connection; when one of the sureties
is worth several millions of dollars,. and the poorest of them
is abundantly good for the sum of $ 5,000, in which he is
"held and firmly bound" to produce the body of Jefferson
Davis whenever the plaintiff shall be ready to try him. If
he only would run away, I know that very many people would
be much obliged to him; but he won't.
It was telegraphed all over the North that I had a very
affectionate meeting and greeting with the prisoner when he
had been bailed; when in fact I had never before spoken nor
written to him any message whatever, and did not know him,
even by sight, when he entered the court-room. After the
bond was signed, one of his counsel asked me if I had any
* May  13,1867.
415 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
objection to being introduced to Mr. Davis, and I replied that
I had ndne; whereupon we were introduced; and simply
greeted each other. I made, at the request of a friend, a
brief call on his wife that evening, as they were leaving for
Canada; and there our intercourse ended, probably forever.
When the impeachment of President Johnson was fully
resolved on, and there was for some weeks a fair prospect
that Mr. Wade would soon be President, with a Cabinet of
like RPadical faith, I suggested to some of the prospective President's next friends that I had Jefferson Davis still on my
hands, and that, if he were considered a handy thing to have
in the house, I might turn him over to the new Administration for trial at an hour's notice. The suggestion evoked no
enthusiasm, and I was not encouraged to press it.
I trust no one will imagine that I have made this statement with any purpose of self-vindication.  To all who have
civilly accosted me on the subject, I trust I have given civil,
if not satisfactory, answers; while most of those who have
seen fit to assail me respecting it, I have chosen to treat with
silent scorn. I believe no one has yet succeeded in inventing
an unworthy motive for my act that could impose on the
credulity of a child, or even of my bitterest enemy. I was
quite aware that what I.did would be so represented as to
alienate for a season some valued friends, and set against me
the great mass of those who know little and think less; thousands even of those who rejoiced over Davis's release, nevertheless joining, full-voiced, in the howl against me. I knew
that I should outlive the hunt, and could afford to smile at
the pack, even when its cry was loudest. So I went quietly
on my way; and in due time the storm gave place to a calm.
And now, if there is a man on earth who wishes Jefferson
Davis were back in his cell, awaiting, in the fourth year of
his detention, the trial denied him in the three preceding, he
is at liberty to denounce me for my course, in the assurance
that he can by no means awake a regret or provoke a reply.
416 
LIII.
AUTIIORSIIIP.-WRITING HISTORY.
LMOST every one who can write at all is apt, in the
course of his life, to write something which he fancies
others may read with pleasure or with profit. For my own
part, beyond a few boyish letters to relatives and intimate
friends, I began my efforts at composition as an apprentice in
a newspaper office, by condensing the news, more especially
the foreign, which I was directed to put into type from the
city journals received at our office; endeavoring to give in
fewer words the gist of the information, in so far, at least, as
it would be likely to interest our rural readers. Our Editor,
during the latter part of my stay in Poultney, was a Baptist
clergyman, whose pastoral charge was at some distance, and
who was therefore absent from us much of his time, and
allowed me a wide discretion in preparing matter for the
paper. This I improved, not only in the selection, but in
the condensation, of news.  The rudimentary knowledge of
the art of composition thus acquired was gradually improved
during my brief experience as a journeyman in various news-,
paper establishments, and afterward as a printer of sundry
experimental journals in this city; so that I began my distinctive, avowed editorial career in The New-Yorker with a
considerable experience as a writer of articles and paragraphs.
I had even written verses, - never fluently nor happily,- but
tolerably well measured, and faintly evincing an admiration
of Byron, Mrs. Hemrans, and other popular  writers, - an
admiration which I never mistook for inspiration or genius.
While true poets are few, those who imagine themselves
27 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BIUSY LIFE.
capable of becoming such are many; but I never advanced
even to this grade. I knew that my power of expression in
verse was defective, as though I had an impediment in my
speech, or spoke with my mouth full of pebbles; and I very
soon renounced the fetters of verse, content to utter my
thoughts thenceforth in unmistakable prose. It is a comfort
to know that not many survive who remember having read
any of the few rhymed effusions of my incautious youth.
I had been nearly twenty years a constant writer for the
newspaper press ere I ventured (in 1850) to put forth a
volume. This was entitled " Hints toward Reforms," and
consisted mainly of Lectures and Addresses prepared for
delivery before village lyceums and other literary associations
from time to time throughout the preceding six or eight
years. Most of them regarded Social questions; but their
range was very wide, including Political Economy, the Right
t6 Labor, Land for the Landless, Protection to Home Industry, Popular Education, Capital Punishment, Abstinence
from Alcoholic  potations, &c., &c.   My  volume was  an
ordinary duodecimo of 425 pages, compactly filled with the
best thoughts I had to offer; all designed to strengthen and
diffuse sympathy with misfortune and suffering, and to promote the substantial, permanent well-being of mankind.
When I had fully prepared it, I sent the copy to the Harpers;
and they agreed to publish it fairly, on condition that I paid
the cost of stereotyping (about $ 400), when they would give
me (as I recollect) ten cents per copy on all they sold. I
cheerfully accepted the terms, and the work was published
accordingly. I believe the sales nearly reimbursed my outlay for stereotyping; so that I attained the dignity of authorship at a very moderate cost.   Green authors are apt to
suffer from disappointment and chagrin at the failure of their
works to achieve them fame and fortune. I was fairly treated
by the press and thp public, and had no more desire than
reason to complain.
418 
AUTHORSHIP. - WRITING HISTORY.
I have given these unflattering reminiscences so fully, because I would be useful to young aspirants to authorship,
even at the cost of losing their good-will. I have been solicited by many - 0, so many! - of them to find publishers
for the poems or the novel of each, in the sanguine expectation that a publisher was the only requisite to his achievement of fortune and renown; when, in fact, each had great
need of a public, none (as yet) of a publisher.  You are sure,
O gushing youth! that your poems are such as no other
youth ever wrote,- such as Pindar, or Dante, or Milton
would read with delight, - and I acquiesce in your judgment.
But the great mass of readers have not "the vision and the
faculty divine"; they are prosaic, plodding, heavy-witted
persons, who read and admire what they are told others have
read and admired before them,- if the discovery of new
Homers and Shakespeares were to rest with them, none would
henceforth be distinguished from the common herd. You,
we will agree, are such a genius as Heaven vouchsafes us once
in two or three centuries; but can you dream that such are
discerned and appreciated by the great mass of their cotemporaries? How much, think you, did Homer, or Dante, or
Milton receive from the sale of his works to the general public? Nay: how much did Shakespeare's poetry, as poetry, contribute to his sustenance? Nay, more: do you, having acquired the greenback-cost of adding a volume to your library,
buy the span-new verses of Stiggins Dobbs or C. Pugsley
Jagger? You know that you do not, - that you buy Shelley,
or Beranger, or Tennyson, instead.  Then how can you expect
the great mass of us, who have not the faintest claim to genius
or special discernment, to recognize your untrumpeted merit
and buy your volume?  You ought to know that we shall
follow your example, and buy - if we ever buy poems at all
-those of some one whose fame has already reached even
our dull ears and fixed our heedless attention. Hence it is
that no judicious publisher will buy your manuscript, nor
print it, even if you were to make him a present of it.  He
can't afford it. And your talk of the stupidity, the incom
419 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
petency, the rapacity, or the cruelty of publishers is wholly
aside from the case. Not one first work in a hundred ever
pays the cost of its publication. True, yours may be the rare
exception; but the publisher is hardly to blame that he does
not see it.
A year or two later, on my return from my first visit to
Europe, I was surprised by an offer to publish in a volume
the letters I had written thence to The Tribune, and pay me
copyright thereon. I knew, right well, that they did not deserve such distinction, - that they were flimsy and superficial, - things of a day; to be read in the morning and forgotten at night. But it seems that some who had read them
in The Tribune wished to have them in a more compact, portable shape; while it was highly improbable that any others
would be tempted to buy them: so I consented, and revised
them; and they duly appeared as "Glances at Europe" in
1851 - 52.  I recollect my share of the proceeds was about
$S 00; for which I had taken no pecuniary risk, and done
very little labor. Had the work been profounder, and more
deserving, I presume it would not have sold so well,- at all
events, not so speedily.
Years passed; I made my long-meditated overland journey
to California; and the letters I wrote during that trip, printed
from week to week in The Tribune, were collected on my return, and printed in a volume nearly equal in size to either
of my former. As a photograph of scenes that were then
passing away, of a region on the point of rapid and striking
transformation, I judge that this "Overland Journey to California in 1859" may be deemed worth looking into by a dozen
persons per annum for the next twenty years. Its publishers
failed, however, very soon after its appearance; so that my
returns from it for copyright were inconsiderable.
And now came the Presidential contest of 1860, closely
followed by Secession and Civil War, whereof I had no
420 
AUTHORSHIP. - WRITING HISTORY.
thougnt of ever becoming the historian.  In fact, not till that
War was placed on its true basis of a struggle for liberation,
and not conquest, by President Lincoln's successive Proclamations of Freedom, would I have consented to write its history. Not till I had confronted the Rebellion as a positive,
desolating force, right here in New York, at the doors of earnest Republicans, in the hunting down and killing of defenceless, fleeing Blacks, in the burning of the Colored Orphan
Asylum, and in the mobbing and firing of The Tribune office,
could I have been moved to delineate its impulses, aims, progress, and impending catastrophe.
A very few days after the national triumph at Gettysburg,
with the kindred and almost simultaneous successes of General Grant in the capture of Vicksburg, and General Banks
in that of Port Hudson, with the consequent suppression of
the (so called) "Riots" in this city, I was visited by two
strangers, who introduced themselves as Messrs. Newton and
0. D. Case, publishers, from Hartford, and solicited me to
write thee History of the Rebellion. I hesitated; for my
labors and responsibilities were already most arduous and
exacting, yet could not, to any considerable extent, be transferred to others. The compensation offered would be liberal,
in case the work should attain a very large sale, but otherwise quite moderate. I finally decided to undertake the task,
knowing well that it involved severe, protracted effort on my
part; and I commenced upon it a few weeks later, after collecting such materials as were then accessible. I hired for
my workshop a room on the third floor of the new Bible
House, on Eighth Street and Third and Fourth Avenues, procured the requisite furniture, hired a secretary, brought
thither my materials, and set to work. Hither I repaired,
directly after breakfast each week-day morning, and read and
compared the various documents, official reports, newspaper
letters, &c., &c., that served as materials for a chapter, while
my secretary visited libraries at my direction, and searched
out material among my documents and elsewhere. The great
public libraries of New York, - Society, Historical, Astor,
421 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
and Mercantile - all cluster around the Bible House; the two
last-named being within a bowshot. I occasionally visited
either of them, in personal quest of material otherwise inaccessible. When I had the substance of my next chapter
pretty fairly in mind, I began to compose that chapter; having often several authorities conveniently disposed around
me, with that on which I principally relied lying open before
me. I oftener wrote out my first draft, merely indicating
extracts where such were to be quoted at some length; leaving these to be inserted by my secretary when he came to
transcribe my text; but I sometimes dictated to my secretary, who took short-hand notes of what I said, and wrote
them out at his leisure. My first chapter was thus composed
at one sitting, after some days had been given to the arrangement of materials; but, usually, two days, or even three,
were given to the composition of each of the longer chapters,
after I had prepared and digested its material. Our rule was
to lock the door on resuming composition, and decline all
solicitations to open it till the day's allotted task had been
finished; and this was easy while my "den" was known to
very few; but that knowledge was gradually diffused; and more
and more persons found excuses for dropping in; until I was
at length subject to daily, and even more frequent, though seldom to protracted, interruptions. I think, however, that if I
should ever again undertake such a labor, I would allow the
location of my "den" to be known to but one person at The
Tribune office, who should be privileged to knock at its door
in cases of extreme urgency, and I would have that door open
to no one beside but my secretary and myself. Even my
proof-sheets should await me at The Tribune office, whither I
always repaired, to commence a day's work as Editor, after
finishing one as Author at the "den."
A chapter having been fairly written out or transcribed by
my secretary, while I was "reading up" for another, I carefully revised and sent it to the stereotyper, who sent me his
second and third proofs, which were successively corrected
before the pages were ready to be cast. Sometimes, the dis
422 
AUTHORSHIP. - WRITING HISTORY.
covery of new material compelled the revision and recast of
a chapter which had been passed as complete. And, though
the material was very copious, - more so, I presume, than
that from which the history of any former war was written,it was still exceedingly imperfect and contradictory. For instance: when I came to the pioneer Secession of South Carolina, I wished to study it in the proceedings and debates of
her Legislature and Convention as reported in at least one of
her own journals; and of these I found but a single file preserved in our city (at the Society Library), though four years
had not yet expired since that Secession occurred. A year
later, I probably could not have found one at all. Of the score
or so of speeches made by Jefferson Davis, often from cars,
while on his way from Mississippi to assume at Montgomery
the Presidency of the Confederacy, I found but two condensed reports; and one of these, I apprehend, was apocryphal. In many cases, I found officers reported killed in battles whom I afterward found fighting in subsequent battles;
whence.I conclude that they had not been killed so dead as
they might have been.  Some of the errors into which I was
thus led by my authorities were not corrected till after my
work was printed; when the gentlemen thus conclusively
disposed of began to write me, insisting that, though desperately wounded at the battle in question, they had decided nlot
to give up the ghost, and so still remained in the land of embodied rather than that of disembodied souls. Their testimony
was so direct and pointed that I was constrained to believe it,
and to correct page after page accordingly. I presume a few,
even yet, remain consigned to the shades in my book, who
nevertheless, to this day, consume rations of beef and pork
with most unspiritual regularity and self-satisfaction. There
doubtless remain some other errors, though I have corrected
many; and, as I have stated many more particulars than my
rivals in the same field have usually done, it is probable that
my work originally embodied more errors of fact or incident
than almost any other.
Yet "The American Conflict" will be consulted, at least by
historians, and I shall be judged by it, after most of us now
423 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
living shall have mingled with the dust. An eminent antagonist of my political views has pronounced it "the fairest
one-sided book ever written"; but it is more than that.  It
is one of the clearest statements yet made of the long train
of causes which led irresistibly to the war for the Union,
showing why that war was the natural and righteous consequence of the American people's general and guilty complicity in the crime of upholding and diffusing Human Slavery.
I proffer it as my contribution toward a fuller and more vivid
realization of the truth that God governs this world by moral
lawsas active, immutable, and all-pervading as can be operative in any other, and that every collusion or compromise
with evil must surely invoke a prompt and signal retribution.
The sale of my history was very large and steady down to
the date of the clamor raised touching the bailing of Jefferson Davis, when it almost ceased for a season; thousands who
had subscribed for it refusing to take their copies, to the sore
disappointment and loss of the agents, who had supplied themselves with fifty to a hundred copies each, in accordance with
their orders; and who thus found themselves suddenly,
and most unexpectedly involved in serious embarrassments.
I grieved that they were thus afflicted for what, at the
worst, was no fault of theirs; while their loss by every copy
thus refused was twenty times my own. I trust, however,
that their undeserved embarrassments were, for the most
part, temporary, -that a juster sense of what was due to
them ultimate!y prevailed, - that all of them who did not
mistake the character of a fitful gust of popular passion, and
thereupon sacrifice their hard earnings, have since been relieved from their embarrassments; and that the injury and
injustice they suffered without deserving have long since been
fully repaired. At all events, the public has learned that I act
upon my convictions without fear of personal consequences;
hence, any future paroxysm of popular rage against me is
likely to be less violent, in view of the fact that this one
proved so plainly ineffectual.
424 
LIV.
MY DEAD.
~'   DO  not wear my heart upon my sleeve," and shrink
from the obtrusion of matters purely personal upon an
indifferent public.  I have aimed, in the series herewith
closed, to narrate mainly such facts and incidents as seemed
likely to be of use, either in strengthening the young and
portionless for the battle of life, or in commending to their
acceptance convictions which I deem sound and important.
My life has been one of arduous, rarely intermitted, labor,
of efforts to achieve other than personal ends, -of efforts
which have absorbed most of the time which others freely
devote to social intercourse and to fireside enjoyments. Of
those I knew and loved in youth, a majority have already
crossed the dark river, and I will not impose even their names
on an unsympathizing world. Among them is my fellowapprentice and life-long friend, who, after long illness, died in
this city in 1861; my first partner, already named, who was
drowned while bathing in 1832; and a young poet of promise
who was slowly yielding to consumption when the tidings of
our Bull Run disaster snapped short his thread of life, - as
it would have snapped mine had it been half so frail as his.
The faces of many among the departed whom I have known
and loved come back to me as I gaze adown the vista of my
half-century of active life; but I have no right to lift the
veil which shrouds and shields their long repose. I will
name but those who are a part of myself, and whose loss to
earth has profoundly affected my subsequent career.
Since I began to write these reminiscences, my mother's 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
last surviving brother, John Woodburn, has deceased, aged
seventy-two, leaving the old Woodburn homestead, I understand, to some among his children; so has my father's brother,
Isaac, aged eighty, leaving, so far as I know, but one of the
nine brothers (John) still living. My father himself died on the
18th of December last, aged eighty-six. He had, for twelve
years or more, been a mere Wreck, first in body only; but his
infirmities ultimately affected his mind; so that, when I last
visited him, a year before his death, he did not recognize me
till after he had sat by my side for a full half-hour; and he
had before asked my oldest sister, "Did you ever know Henry
Greeley?" -alluding to one of her sons, then several years
dead. He had fitful flashes of mental recovery; but he had
been so long a helpless victim of hopeless bodily and mental
decay that I did not grieve when. I learned that his spirit had
at length shaken off the encumbrance of its mortal coil, which
had ceased to be an instrument, and remained purely an
obstruction. Of his protracted life, forty-two years had been
spent in or on the verge of New  England, and forty-four
in his deliberately chosen, steadily retained, Pennsylvanian
home.
My son, Arthur Young (" Pickie"), born in March, 1844,
was the third of seven children, whereof a son and daughter,
severally born in 1838 and in 1842, scarcely opened their
eyes to a world which they entered but to leave. Physically,
they were remarkable for their striking resemblance in hair
and features to their father and mother respectively.
Arthur had points of similarity to each of us, but with decided superiority, as a whole, to either. I looked in vain
through Italian galleries, two years after he was taken from
us, for any full parallel to his dazzling beauty, - a beauty
not physical merely, but visibly radiating from the soul.  His
hair was of the finest and richest gold; "the sunshine of picture" never glorified its equal; and the delicacy of his complexion at once fixed the attention of observers like the late
N. P. WVillis, who had traversed both hemispheres without
having his gaze arrested by any child who could bear a com
426 
MY DEAD.
parison with this one. Yet he was not one of those paragons
sometimes met with, whose idlest chatter would edify a Sunday school,- who never do or say aught that propriety would
not sanction and piety delight in, - but thoroughly human,
and endued with a love of play and mischief which kept him
busy and happy the livelong day, while rendering him the
delight and admiration of all around him. The arch delicacy
wherewith he inquiringly suggested, when once told a story
that overtaxed his credulity, "I'pose that aint a lie?" was
characteristic of his nature. Once, when about three years
old, having chanced to espy my watch lying on a sofa as I
was dressing one Sunday morning, with no third-person present, he made a sudden spring of several feet, caught the
watch by the chain, whirled it around his head, and sent it
whizzing against the chimney, shattering its face into fragments.  "Pickie," I inquired, rather sadly than angrily, "how
could you do me such injury?"  "'Cause I was nervous," he
regretfully replied. There were ladies then making part of
our household whose nerves were a source of general as well
as personal discomfort; and this was his attestation of the
fact.
There were wiser and deeper sayings treasured as they fell
from his lips; but I will not repeat them. Several yet live
who remember the graceful gayety wherewith he charmed
admiring circles assembled at our house, and at two or three
larger gatherings of friends of Social Reform in this city, and
at the N. A. Phalanx in New Jersey; and I think some grave
seigniors, who were accustomed to help us enjoy our Saturday
afternoons in our rural suburban residence at Turtle Bay,
were drawn thither as much by their admiration of the son
as by their regard for his parents.
Meantime, another daughter was given to us, and, after six
months, withdrawn; and still another born, who yet survives;
and he had run far into his sixth year without one serious
illness. His mother had devoted herself to him from his
birth, even beyond her intense consecration to the care of her
other children; had never allowed him to partake of animal
427 
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
food, or to know that an animal was ever killed to be eaten;
had watched and tended him with absorbing love, till the
perils of infancy seemed fairly vanquished; and we had reason to hope that the light of our eyes would be spared to
gladden our remaining years.
It was otherwise decreed. In the Summer of 1849, the
Asiatic cholera suddenly reappeared in our city, and  the
frightened authorities ordered all swine, &c., driven out of
town,   that is, above Fortieth Street, - whereas our home
was about Forty-eighth Street, though no streets had yet been
cut through that quarter. At once, and before we realized our
danger, the atmosphere was polluted by the exhalations of
the swinish multitude thrust upon us from the densely peopled hives south of us, and the cholera claimed its victims
by scores before we were generally aware of its presence.
Our darling was among the first; attacked at 1 A. M. of
the 12th of July, when no medical attendance was at hand;
and our own prompt, unremitted efforts, reenforced at length
by the best medical skill within reach, availed nothing to
stay the fury of the epidemic, to which he succumbed about
5 P. m. of that day,- one of the hottest, as well as quite the
longest, I have ever known. He was entirely sane and conscious till near the last; insisting that he felt little or no
pain and was well, save that we kept him sweltering under
clothing that he wanted to throw off, as he did whenever he
was permitted. When at length the struggle ended with his
last breath, and even his mother was convinced that his eyes
would never again open on the scenes of this world, I knew
that the Summer of my life was over, that the chill breath
of its Autumn was at hand, and that my future course must
be along the downhill of life.
Yet another son (Raphael Uhland) was born to us two
years afterward; who, though more like his father and less
like a poet than Arthur, was quite as deserving of parental
love, though not so eminently fitted to evoke and command
428 
MY DEAD.
general admiration. He was with me in France and Switzerland in the Summer of 1855; spending, with his mother and
sister, the previous Winter in London and that subsequent in
Dresden; returning with them in May,'56, to fall a victim to
the croup the ensuing February. I was absent on a lecturing
tour when apprised of his dangerous illness, and hastened
home to find that he had died an hour before my arrival,
though he had hoped and striven to await my return.  He
had fulfilled his sixth year and twelve days over when our
home was again made desolate by his death.
Another daughter was born to us four weeks later, who
survives; so that we have reason to be grateful for two children left to soothe our decline, as well as for five who, having
preceded us on the long journey, await us in the Land of
Souls.
My life has been busy  and anxious, but  not joyless.
Whether it shall be prolonged few or more years, I am grateful that it has endured so long, and that it has abounded in
opportunities for good not wholly unimproved, and in experiences of the nobler as well as the baser impulses of human
nature. I have been spared to see the end of giant wrongs,
which I once deemed invincible in this century, and to note
the silent upspringing and growth of principles and influences which I hail as destined to root out some of the most flagrant and pervading evils that yet remain. I realize that
each generation is destined to confront new and peculiar perils,- to wrestle with temptations and seductions unknown to
its predecessors; yet I trust that progress is a general law of
our being, and that the ills and woes of the future shall be
less crushing than those of the bloody and hateful past. So,
looking calmly, yet humbly, for that close of my mortal
career which cannot be far distant, I reverently thank God
for the blessings vouchsafed me in the past; and, with an
awe that is not fear, and a consciousness of demerit which
does not exclude hope, await the opening before my steps of
the gates of the Eternal World.
429  
MISCELLANIES. 
i~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
IHE world is a seminary; Man is our class-book; and
the chief business of life is Education. We are here to
learn and to teach,- some of us for both of these purposes,
all at least for the former. Happy he, and greatly blest, who
comes divinely qualified for a Teacher, -fitted by nature and
training to wrestle with giant Ignorance and primal Chaos,
to dispel unfounded Prejudice, and banish enshrouding Night.
To govern men, in the rude, palpable sense, is a small achievement; agrovelling, purblind soul, well provided with horsemen and artillery, and thickly hedged with bayonets and
spears, may do this. Nero ruled the Roman world at the
height of its power and glory, and ruled it so sternly that no
man dared speak of him, while he lived, save in the language
of abject flattery. Caligula did it likewise; and so, in an
uncouth, second-hand, deputizing way, did (or might have
done) Caligula's horse; but which of these, think you, could
have instructed the millions he so sternly swayed? Alaric
had no difficulty in cutting off ten-score thousand heads; but
he leaves to our own Everett the writing of the poem wherein
the nature of his exploits is duly celebrated. Had he been
obliged- to slice off as many more heads, or write such a poem,
he would have chosen the former task without hesitation or
self-distrust.
. The true king, then, - the man who can, - from which
root I would derive also ken and cunning,- is he who sways
the mighty realm of Thought; whose achievements mimic
those of the Infinite Father by building out into void space,
28
0
0
0 
MISCELLANIES.
and peopling Chaos with living and beneficent, though bodiless, creations. Who knows or cares what was the name of
Homer's temporal sovereign? The world could not spare
Cicero's Orations, but what recks it of his consulate? George
III. ruled respectably a mighty realm through the most memorable half-century in the history of man; yet his age will be
known to remote posterity, not as his by any means, nor even
as that of Napoleon or Wellington, but as that of Goethe,
Wordsworth, and Byron. Bonaparte himself was a reality
and no sham; yet he missed his best chance of earthly immortality when he allowed Fulton to leave France with the
steamboat still in his brain. The burning of Moscow was
unlucky for the conqueror of Austerlitz; but this non-comprehension of our great countryman was a betrayal of incapacity,   a downright discomfiture, of which no Grouchy can
be made the scapegoat.
Inevitable, then, is it, and by no means to be lamented, that,
in an age so eventful and stirring as ours, an innumerable
nultitude should aspire to Write, - that is, to Teach. Nay,
it is greatly to be desired, and every way to be encouraged, that
the largest possible number should aspire to sing and shine as
enlighteners and monitors of their fellow-beings. Brother in
the tow frock and ragged mithinkables! have you an idea humming in your brain, that seems to you fitted to cure even the
lightest of human maladies? Out with it, I pray you, in
mercy to a benighted, heart-sick, and blindly suffering race!
Sister in linsey-woolsey, and wearing a red-cotton handkerchief by way of diadem, have you aught to say, that, if uttered,
would cheer and bless the weary steps whereby we are all
measuring off the little span which divides us from the grave?
For sweet Charity's sake, do not withhold it, but let your
light shine, even though the darkness be sure not to comprehend it,- a by no means novel nor uncommon case. Heed
not the croaker's warning that the world overflows with books
and authors, - so it did in Solomon's time; yet how many
very good ones, that mankind could hardly spare, have been
written since! Truly, the universe is full of light, and has
0
434
a 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
been these thousands of years; yet, for all that, we could not
dispense with the sunshine of to-morrow, whether as a realization or as an assuring prediction.  Never believe those who
tell you that our Riace are surfeited with teachers, -that
their present needs are material only, not spiritual, - and
that your humble lay will be drowned by the crashing volume
of the world's great choral harmonies,- for if you have something to say, and do really say it, never doubt that it will find
or make its way to the eyes and hearts of those fitted to appreciate and enjoy it.
But the real perplexity, the one great source of disappointment and mortification in the premises, is this,-  Of the
legions who aspire to teach and sing, only a very small proportion do so from any hearty, intrinsic, essential love of the
work, while the great multitude seek primarily and mainly
their own glory or aggrandizement, rather than the good of
their kind. They aspire to be teachers, not because the world
needs to be taught, but because they must somehow be fed.
Minim's." lays" are inspired by his laziness, and not by any
of the Muses, who would be tortured by his invocations if
they paid any sort of heed to his twanging.  Crotchet's treatise on Hydraulics and Dynamics was impelled by the vacuum
in his own stomach, rather than by any painful sense of
deficiency or error in popular conceptions of natural science.
Van PRoamer's "Travels" were constrained by the stern alternative of quitting his native soil or cultivating it; he is
enabled to tell us how the Camanches grow corn, or the
Mohaves harvest beans, through his own invincible repugnance to assisting in either process at home. And thus the
domain of letters is continually infested, is wellnigh overrun,
by a swarm of adventurers who are only intellectual in their
pursuits and tendencies because they dread being, and so
have not fitted themselves to be, material,- as Talleyrand
accounted all men Military who were not Civil. Hence, the
patient earth groans beneath the weight of books written
from as grovelling a motive as ever sent a truant whimpering
to school, and the moon and stars are persecuted with flatulent
435 
MISCELLANIES.
apostrophes and impertinent staring by bards whose main
incitement to thus tormenting the night is a constitutional
abhorrence of getting up and swinging an axe in the morning.
It is high time the current cant affirming the misfortunes
of authorship, "calamities of genius," the miserable recompense of intellectual effort, &c., were scouted from the earth.
Its groundwork is a total misconception of the relations of
things intellectual to things physical, - of Mind to Matter,
Time to Eternity.  Milton, they say, sold Paradise Lost for
ten pounds to its original publisher, Mr. Simmons. Begging
your pardon, gentlemen, he did no such thing; if he had
done, the mighty epic would have henceforth been Simwons's
Paradise Lost, no longer Milton's. No such poem was ever
written for pounds, few or many, nor ever can be. The
author sold only the privilege of multiplying copies for the
few years wherein his right of property in his work was protected by law; but the poem was still Milton's, and so must
remain while Time shlall endure. Trade and Law are mighty
in their several spheres; but both together are powerless to
vest the proper ownership of Paradise Lost in anybody else
than John Milton.
I am not palliating the injustice done to authors by our
laws of Copyrig,ht; they are indeed gross and indefensible.
Their original sin inheres in their attempt to draw a distinction where the laws of the Universe make none, -between
Property in the creations of the Brain and in those of the
Hands.  The distinction is at best imperfect.  A poem, as given
by the author to the press, is the joint production of intellect
and muscles, -so is a plough or a boot-jack.  The difference
is one of proportion only, - in the poem, the labor of Production is mainly brain-work; the reverse is the case with the
plough.  The poet's work, as poet, is one of creation purely,
so far as finite beings can create; while  the mechanic's
achievement is one of accommodation or shaping merely.
No man ever made, no man can make, a flour-barrel so thoroughly his as Childe Harold was and is Byron's.  On what
principle, then, do human laws say that the flour-barrel be
436 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
longs to the maker, his heirs or assigns, so long as it shall
exist, and wherever it may be found, but that Childe Harold
was Byron's property only within a narrow territorial radius
and for a brief term of years? Clearly, on no principle at alL
The law plunders the author while pretending to protect him.
It ought to know nothing of Copyright save to require the
author to give fair notice that he regards his production as a
property, and forbids the multiplication of copies by any other
than a publisher expressly authorized by him. Then, if it
were deemed expedient to confiscate the author's right of
property, at the expiration of fifty or a hundred years from
the date of his work's first appearance, he ought to be fairly
compensated for his book, if the demand for it were still
active, so as to justify a claim to indemnity on the part of his
heirs.
The Law of Copyright is pernicious in all its restrictions
on the natural right of property, -wrong in denying that
right in one country to the citizen of another, and thereby
bribing the author to pander to local and provincial prejudices,
instead of speaking to all Hiumanity. A book which finds
readers in all or many lands is presumptively worth far more
than one which finds admirers only in the country which
produced it. This law is doubly wrong in virtually saying to
the author, "Cater to the prejudices, the follies, the passions
of the hour; for the approval of future generations may
indeed pile marble above your unconscious dust, but will
give no bread to your famishing offspring!" It is very true
that the pecuniary recompense is not the main impulse to
the production of works which the world does not willingly
let die; but the State has no moral right to rob a man merely
because he leaves his doors unlocked. It is bound to render
to each his due; and it sets an evil example in divesting any
of what is rightfully his own.
But, to ninety-nine of every hundred literary aspirants, it
makes no difference practically whether the copyright accorded to their works is or is not limited both in time and
space. Out of every hundred books published, not ten are
437 
MISCELLANIES.
ever read out of the country which produced them; hardly
one will be heard of by the author's own grandchildren.
"Come like shadows, so depart," is the motto that would fitliest illustrate the title-page of our booksellers' annual catalogues of their new issues. Like an April snow-shower, they
are poured upon us till they threaten to cover, if not transform, the earth; but soon the sun shines out, and, the next
hour, they have vanished forever.
Now, while it is quite true that Milton did not write Paradise Lost for Mr. Simmons's ten pounds, nor for any number
of anybody's pounds, it is none the less certain that the State
has no moral right to bribe its authors to strive for momentary popularity rather than enduring regard. It has no moral
right to say to them, "Write skilfully on a level with the
passions and prejudices of the day, and you shall have
wealth and present fame; but, if you write what the vicinage
may condemn, yet what the Ages and the Race must approve
and embalm, you shall be punished with poverty for yourself
and beggary for your children." That "ye cannot serve God
and Mammon" was true enough in the nature of things,
before the State undertook to aggravate, as against Mammon's
despisers, the severity of the sentence and the intensity of
the punishment.
The World of Thought! how vast its extent! how majestic its triumphs!  I am not surprised that literary fame is
the object of such general aspiration; I should be surprised
indeed if it were otherwise.  Just consider how potent, how
vast, is the sway to-day exercised by Plato, and Virgil, and
Tacitus, now so many centuries in their graves, and compare
it with the narrow, transient, imperfect dominion of Alexander or Augustus, so omnipotent in his own age and sphere, so
impotent elsewhere, and ever after.   Xenophon the leader
has long been undistinguishable dust, while Xenophon the
narrator is still in the zenith of his power and renown. Julius Cesar holds his place in the world's regard far more by
means of his Commentaries than of his victories, and Bonaparte's first campaign electrified Europe not more by his bat
438 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
tles than his bulletins. We cannot wonder, then, that men
have sacrificed ease and pleasure, youth and strength, grace
of motion and power of vision, to win a name among those
who  worthily wielded  that  "weapon  mightier than the
sword"; for, indeed, there is no other field of effort, no other
arena for ambition, so inviting, so dazzling, as this. Wolfe
on the Heights of Abraham admiringly recited Gray's Elegy,
and declared that he would rather be its author than the conqueror of Montcalm and Canada. "All for love and the
world well lost," is the surrender of the grandest possibilities
to a fleeting delirium of the senses; but well might the conqueror of an empire, the heir of a dynasty, exchange his circumscribed and vanishing dominion for a seat among the
Kings of Mind,- the rulers of that World of Ideas, whose
sway each year expands and strengthens, though their bones
have enriched, centuries ago, the soil with which they wrestled for a meagre subsistence as Homer the mendicant or
Esop the slave.
But have the true Kings of Thought in fact realized their
own might, and actually aspired to and struggled for the preeminence which Mankind has so cordially assigned them?
Did Shakespeare, for instance, know'himself the intellectual
prodigy he truly was, and apprehend that the lines he dashed
off with such facile rapidity would be read in delighted awe
and wonder on isles of the Southern main, far beyond the
African cape, which in his day bounded in that direction the
known world? I find in his writings the presence of amazing
power, but not the consciousness of it. Nay: I cannot help
suspecting that, had he really known how great a man he
was and is, he would have refrained from acting and talking
so often like a little one.  The world has known men who
profoundly esteemed themselves great, and justified that consciousuess by every act of their lives. I could not have dared
to ask Michael Angelo to build me a tavern-stable out of the
crumbling walls of a deserted monastery or fortress; I should
have cowered before the glance of his eye as he turned upon
me with the question, "Do you think I was sent into the
439
it 
MISCELLANIES.
world to build stables?"  Yet I would not have hesitated -
would you?- to ask Shakespeare to write me, for a consideration, an epithalamium, a monody, a pasquinade, an epigram;
and should not have feared rebuke or refusal, if the price named
were sufficient. For I see the man working and delving from
day to day like any journeyman among us, - with immense
courage, certainly, and capacity, and consciousness of power,
-but still working up the ordinary play-house rubbish into
his grand, airy new structure, as any skilful mason might fill
up the centre of his wall with the commonest brickbats, until
the difference between him and other playwrights seems one
of degree purely, and not of kind.  But, reading him thoughtfully, I am arrested by passage after passage evincing an
almost Divine faculty,- a faculty in which I discern nothing
of the playwright, but rather the inspiration of the soul-rapt
prophet, who looks straight through all things; for to him the
universe is without opacity, and past, present, and future are
mere lines of demarcation across the great plain lying lucid
and level before him.  This man's nature is a riddle which I,
very palpably, cannot read; so I turn away, perplexed and
overmastered, to resume the thread of my discussion. If he
were always unapproachable, I could comprehend, though I
might not accurately measure him; if he were only a clever
play-house poet, I could more easily and surely estimate him;
but his starry flights and his paltry jokes- his celestial penetration and his contemptible puns- form together a riddle
entirely too hard for me. I read him; I admire him; but I
do not know him; and all the commentators and critics serve
only to render darkness more visible,- my darkness, I freely
admit; but is it not also in some part their own?
The great soul like Milton's, finding utterance through
Authorship because utterance is a necessity of its being, and
because it feels impelled benignly to assure its weaker, more
opaque brethren, that evil is phenomenal and transitory, -- the
murky exhalation of a chill night, which heaven's sunshine
will in due time dissipate, -for this I take to be the burden
440
00 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
of all true Literature, as of true Prophecy, - this is, to my
eye, the grandest, noblest spectacle beheld on earth. But the
literary hack also, -whereof I hold Shakespeare to be the
highest type yet revealed to us, -perhaps the highest ever
to be seen,   he who, finding  authorship to be the work
directly in his way, takes hold of it and does it, heartily, manfully, capitally, with all his might, as he would do anything
else that thus planted itself across his path; always evincing
talent, energy, resolution; sometimes irradiating these with
the celestial fire of genius- he, too, is at least a respectable
personage; and contemplating him shall give us added strength
and vivacity for the discharge of our own duties, whatsoever
they be.  But the literary mendicant, -  the aspirant to live
by literature, while literature begs to be excused from his
obsequious and superserviceable attentions, - of him and his
works be the heavens mercifully oblivious, be the earth compassionately delivered!  He is just the sorriest sight the sun
looks down upon, and fills us with the dismalest conceptions
of the lower possibilities of human infirmity.
Do but contemplate him, at twenty, thirty, forty, fifty
years of age, -  a hale, stout, broad-shouldered man,  with
thews that might chop cord-wood or do some other creditable
service to his kind, -at all events, with fingers terminating
either fore-arm that would answer for gathering apples or
picking up potatoes,- to see him, thus generously furnished,
insisting on Authorship as his vocation, when nobody wants
to hear or read him,- wandering from publisher to publisher
to petition for the printing of his poem or novel, or besieging
editor after editor for employment on his journal, -this is a
spectacle of human degradation which angels may well weep
over. And then to hear him talk of the Calamities of Genius.- he whose chief calamity is, manifestly, a total lack of
genius, and not of genius merely, but of self-respect, energy,
or manhood. Had he but one spark of true genius, it would
develop in him a healthful, proper pride, whereof the first
dictate would be a revolt against such hawking and auctioneering, of his Diviner faculties. " No," he would say, "I need
441
4. 
MISCELLANIES.
bread, and am not ashamed to solicit the privilege of earning
it by such means as naturally bring bread, - by hireling
labor in the corn-field, the meadow, the ditch, or the mine;
for that is the natural resort of all those who have no estate
of their own. I can proudly ask my neighbor to let me saw
his wood for a dinner, since such is the obvious way of earning dinners, and sawed wood ministers to a physical necessity
akin to my urgent need of victual; but to ask any man to
give me a dinner or a dollar for a poem or essay which he
never asked me to write,-  to beg of him an exchange of his
bread for nay thoughts, my ideas, - this I cannot stoop to do.
If my book be printed, either with my own means or those of
a publisher who believes it will do, let any man buy it and
pay for it who will; but, if I urgently want bread, let me
produce something which is bread's natural equivalent, or let
me beg it, if reduced to that dire extremity, in the direct,
honest way; but to degrade my faculty of uttering thoughts,
such as they are, into a means of indirect beggary, that lowect deep of humiliation, I cannot, dare not, descend to."
Perhaps there is not in all Literature any monument of
human perversity and self-exposure more emphatic than the
grand chorus of complaint and remonstrance which every
year forces its way through some muddy channel or other to
the public ear, of which the burden is the stolidity, incapacity and niggardliness of publishers, in not discerning unrecognized merit in the works of young or unknown authors, buying their manuscripts at a generous price, and introducing
them, with appropriate ceremonies, to the reading public.
There are never less than thousands of these unprinted authors, whose fame is yet in the egg, but who fancy that they
need only a spirited and appreciating publisher to cause it to
chip the shell and soar away on eagles' wings to immortality.
Every year, some hundreds of fresh aspirants to literary distinction contrive to overleap the hated barrier and rush into
print; when perhaps the books of ten of them repay the cost
of the adventure; two or three are encouraged to try again;
and possibly one proves a man of mark, wins popular appro
442 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
bation, and is ever after solicited by publishers, instead of
needing to solicit their partiality and favor. But it was not
by this one, nor yet by the two or three, that the howl was
prolonged as to the obtuseness and rapacity of publishers,their drinking rare wines out of the skulls of their plundered,
starving authors, &c., &c.  No: it is from the ranks of the
great unpublished, or, if published, unread, that this hideous
dissonance goes up, - men who, far from being victims of
publishers, have victimized them, and will do it again whenever they shall induce one to bring out another of their
dreary inanities. All the wine that will ever be made by
publishers out of these plaintive gentlemen's productions
might be drank out of their own skulls, while they are yet
living, and leave abundant room therein for all the brains
they have to fulfil their ordinary functions undisturbed and
unstimulated.
Authors of this stamp rarely consider that not creditable
writing only, but true publishing also, is an intellectual vocation,- that as much ability is often evinced in bringilng out
and selling a book as in writing it. Publishing is a pursuit
requiring various talents, ripe scholarship, large capital, and
rare sagacity. Of original publications, but a small portion
prove profitable, while  the great majority involve positive
loss. The instances of undeserved or inordinate success in
publishing are quite as rare as in authorship.
And you, my unfledged bard! who croak over the stupidity
of publishers, and the indifference of the reading class to
unlaurelled merit, out of your own mouth shall you be condemned! You complain that others are deaf and blind to
such merit; yet you are not one whit less so yourself!  You,
Mr. Epaphroditus Sheepshanks, who grumble that Thackeray
or Tennyson is read, yet your novel or poem untouched, -is
tacitly condemned by thousands who cannot 7cRow that it is
not excellent, - do you buy or read the novels of Snooks or
the poems of Pettibone, in preference to those of the great
celebrities of our day? You know well that you do no such
thing, -that you have never looked through them, have
443 
MISCELLANIES.
scarcely given them a thought. You say, very naturally,
They may be good; but my time for reading is limited; and
I choose to devote it first to those whose works I have already
some reason to know are good!  Snooks and Pettibone may be
clever fellows, I dare say they are, but they must await
a more convenient season."  And in this you talk and act
sensibly; quite otherwise when you grumble that more wouldbe authors do not succeed in getting printed, and that those
who do fail to extract more money as copyright from publishers in addition to that which they have already squandered
in paper, typography, and binding.
True, there appear at long intervals men decidedly in advance of their time, who come to their own, and are not
recognized and made welcome, - who write, like Wordsworth
or Emerson, for a public which their genius must create or
their patience await,- authors whose works would sell better
if they were less profoundly good. But this class accept their
fortune unmurmuringly, and never repine over their inability
to.serve at once God and Mammon, and so grasp the rewards
of both Time and Eternity. They do their own work calmly,
uncomplainingly, almost unconsciously, like the stars and the
mountains, and are content to gladden and bless as they may,
without striking for an advance of wages. They know, without seeking it, that their message of good-will finds its way to
the hearts fitted to receive and assimilate it; they would be
amazed by an intimation that their efforts were unappreciated
and unrewarded. Not laboring mainly for popularity or pelf,
they cannot regard the absence of both as an evidence that
their effort is defeated and their labor in vain.
But," says an ingenuous youth, "I aspire to eminence,
fame, popularity,- nay, sir, to usefulness,- as an author;
which, I trust, is no ignoble aspiration. Then why may I
not seek to sell the fruits of my intellectual efforts in order to
cultivate and improve my faculties, and qualify me for the
career I meditate? Why may I not seek to sell the poem or
story I wrote yesterday, in order to win me bread and opportunity to write a better one to-morrow?"  The question is a
fair one, and shall be fairly answered.
444 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
The ever-present and fearful peril of the Literary vocation
is compliance,- the sacrifice of the eternal verity to the temporary necessity.  To write to-day for to-day's bread involves
the necessity of writing what to-day will appreciate, accept,
and buy. This is to set your faculty of thought and utterance up at auction to the best cash bidder, agreeing to do
whatever Divine or diabolic work he may have in hand;
and it is most unlikely that he who bids highest in current
coin for to-day's work, payable to-night, will have Divine
work for you to do. Of course, it is understood that you
do nct directly sell yourself to whomsoever will pay highest;
but that is the palpable tendency of going needily into the
market to barter brains for bread.  You cannot afford to be
nice respecting the use to which your mental faculties are to
be turned, if you must sell them to-day, or go hungry to-morrow:  The natural drift, therefore, of sending your head into
the market for sale is toward moral indifference and debasement, -  toward the sale of your talents for the most they
will fetch, without regard to what use they will be required to
subserve. This tendency may be resisted, baffled, overborne;
but it can never cease to be a reality and a peril. Sensual
appetite is always ready to pay generously for a present gratification; while Virtue is constitutionally austere and provident.- And, beside, there is a very great mistake widely prevalent which confounds the continual use with the imtprovemnent of the faculties essential to Authorship; whereas, use is
as often exhausting as strengthening. Washington, Bonaparte, Byron, Wellington, — in fact, nearly all the great men
of the last age,- evinced qualities as admirable and eminent
in the outset as in the maturity of their several careers. Their
opportunities, their responsibilities, may have afterward been
broader; but Washington on Braddock's fatal field, Bonaparte
in. Italy, Byron in Childe Harold, Wellington in India, while
still young men, evinced the great qualities which have rendered their names immortal. They there gave promise of all
that they afterward performed. If such qualities inhere in
you, they will find or make their way out; if they do not,
445 
.IMISCELLANIES.
you cannot create them by years of imitative, mechanical
drudgery as a journeyman in the vocation you are anxious
to master.
I would say, then, to aspiring young men: "While you
seek the ladder that leads up to renown, preserve, as above all
price, your proper independence, mental and physical.  Never
surrender yourself to what is termed an intellectual vocation
until you have first laid the foundations of independence in
the knowledge of a good trade or handicraft, to fall back on
whenever you shall find yourself unable to maintain at once
your position as a brain-worker and your perfect self-respect.
Take your place in the field or the shop, and make yourself
master of its duties,- fasten yourself to some patch of ground
on some slope of the Alleghanies, the Catskills, the Ozarks,
do anything which will make you a self-subsisting, skilful,
effective worker with the hands, while you have the full control of your mental powers, and may apply your hours won
from toil to their improvement, until you shall be called thence
to intellectual pursuits by some other need than your own.
Then you may accept the new opportunity in perfect security,
and in the proud consciousness that your instructed sinews
can earn you a livelihood by manual labor, should it ever
happen that you can no longer maintain your integrity and
your self-respect in that other vocation to which a hope of
wider usefulness, and the request of those you serve, will have
drawn you. Now, you need no longer consider how much
truth the public will bear, but what is the particular truth it
needs to have expounded and enforced to-day. You will serve
mankind as a benefactor, not now as a slave.
It is one of the most venerable of jokes, - patronized, I
dare say, by Mr. Joseph Miller and other ancient collectors of
good things, and yet so pat to my argument that I cannot refrain from quoting it, - that a London ship was once captured
off the Spanish coast by an Algerine rover, and her crew and
passengers mustered before the Dey, to be put to the best use
respectively as slaves. Each, as he entered the immediate
presence of the head pirate, was required to name his trade
446 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
or calling; which, being duly interpreted, hlie was assigned to
the workshops, the ship-yard, the gardens, or the galleys, ac cording as his past experience had fitted him for efficiency
in one vocation or another.  At length, there came one who
answered the usual question by avowing himself an author,
and this was finally translated so as to render it compre hensible to the Dey; who, after puzzling his brains for some
time to devise a better use for so helpless an object, finally
ordered him to be provided with a pair of feather inexpressibles, and set to hatching out chickens. Here the story stops,
leaving us in tantalizing darkness as to the success of the
literary gentleman in this new field of production; but, as
the employment so compelled must have been sedentary and
irksome to the last degree, it serves to enforce my moral,
that a youth should thoroughly qualify himself to earn his
own bread with his hands before he risks himself on the pre carious enterprise of ministering to the intellectual needs of
others.
Having thus protested, as I could not in conscience fail to
do, against the baseness which aspires to authorship as an
escape from ruder labor, and then whimpers because its flimsy intellectual wares cannot be exchanged for wholesome
bread-corn, or substantial beef, let me not fail to remonstrate
also against the crying injustice done, more especially by the
laws of our country, not to her worthless but to her worthier,
nobler Authors, through the denial of International Copyright.  We nationally and systematically steal the works of
Bulwer, Dickens, Thackeray, Mlacaulay, Browning, Tennyson;
boldly claiming the right and exerting the power of taking,
using, enjoying, their products, without rendering the authors
any equivalent; and we thereby deprive our own authors of
the fair and just reward of their labor as well. Our Irving,
'Bryant, Hawthorne, Longfellow, &c., are less widely read and
less fully recompensed than they should be, because the
works on which they are paid a copyright must be sold in
direct competition with those of their European rivals, whom
we refuse to pay at all. "Are they not paid by their own
447 
MISCELLANIES.
countrymen?" I hear triumphantly asked.  " No, sir!" I reply; not paid by Europe for the service they render us, not
paid by anybody else for the instruction or entertainment
we derive from their works. This instruction we have no
moral right to appropriate without paying for it, any more
than we might honestly clothe ourselves in unbought European fabrics which a wrecking storm had strewn along our
shores. That we can take them without redress, and for the
present with impunity, is undoubted; but that no more proves
our riht to do it than the impunity long enjoyed by the corsairs of the Barbary coast in plundering Christian vessels in
the Mediterranean, proved the justice of that shameful atrocity. The day will yet dawn wherein Man everywhere shall
profoundly realize that no essential advantage can.ever be
obtained through injustice, - that the constitution of the Universe is such that no product of human effort can be obtained cheaper than by honestly buying and fairly paying for
it. In that day, it will be felt and admitted that we have
seriously injured and imperilled our country, by intrusting
the formation of its mind, morals, and manners mainly to
Foreign Authors, through the relative cheapening and consequent diffusion of their works inevitably resulting from the
denial of International Copyright.
Perhaps there is no chapter in the history of Literature
more amusing, and yet none which is essentially more melancholy, than that which acquaints us with the frailties of
Authors, and especially of those of decided genius. That
Shakespeare was arraigned for deer-stealing, - a most poetical
and delicate sort of theft, all admit; -that the great Bacon,
father of modern Philosophyi was disgraced and cashiered for
corruption as Lord Chancellor, the most responsible and one
of the most lucrative as well as honorable posts in the kingdom; that Burns was irregular in love and immoderate in
drink; that Byron was a libertine, and Chatterton a cheat;
.that some  bards have run away with other men's wives,
while a good many have run away from their own,- these,
448 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
and like deplorable facts, are reiterated and gloated over by
millions, who are much better acquainted with the vices and
errors of the greatly gifted than with their writings. Too
many of us find an ignoble, if not malicious, pleasure in reducing those whose intellectual stature threatens to dwarf us
at least to our own moral level; we catch at the evidences of
their frailty, in order to assure ourselves that we too are
spiritually deathless as they, or they at least mortal as we
are. And their lives are necessarily so public, so transparent,
so scrutinized, that the least flaw attracts observation; they
seem worse than others at least as bad as they, only because
they are better known. Hiow many follies; meannesses, vices,
sins, in the lives of the common-place, are charitably hidden
from public view by the friendly oblivion which screens the
majority from observation in shielding them from public interest or curiosity! How many have stolen deer, and been convicted and whipped or imprisoned for it, and had the matter
all over and forgotten within a year or two; while here stands
great Shakespeare, still in the stocks for deer-stealing, though
he has stood there so patiently —a little disdainfully, perhaps, yet quite exemplarily - for almost three centuries!
0, it' is a fearful thing for one greatly gifted to cherish vices
or yield to temptations! his errors cover and deform him like
writhing, hissing snakes, whose scaly sides and gleaming
crests shine in the refulgence by which his genius has surrounded him, from the towering height to which his achievements have lifted him, so that the whole world sees them;
the good with pitying sorrow, the thoughtless with mirthful
levity, the bad with ill-concealed exultation. Vice is lamentable in any,- is the source, not merely of moral degradation,
but of physical suffering; but saddest of all are the offences, most signal and'enduring the punishments, of those fitted
by Nature to be great, - the Iings of the mighty realm of
undying Thought!
The necessities,.thie perplexities, the pecuniary distresses,
of authors,- these, too, have afforded the multitude an inex                 29
449 
MISCELLANIES.
haustible fund of anecdote and entertainment. In fact, the
obvious contrast between the novelist or poet in his garret,
lying abed for the day, perhaps, to have his linen washed,
while he considers whether to let his hero marry the great
heiress and inherit his principality just yet, or tantalize the
reader's impatience with new machinations or impediments
through two or three chapters more, - this is antithesis too
pungent, too comic, not to be enjoyed. The great majority
have ceased to read such "slow," tame essays as those of The
Spectator and The Tatler; yet the story of Dick Steele's
embarrassments, follies, arrests for debt, and irreclaimable
prodigalities, have recently been retold to our city audiences
by Thackeray with inimitable felicity, and enjoyed with unexampled zest. An author's thoughts, it would seem, may
perish or be supplanted, but the mementos of his thoughtlessness will endure forever.
Yet there is exaggeration in the current notion of the constitutional poverty and squalor, the desperate shifts and average seediness, of authors, which ought to be exposed, since
thiere is just truth enough at the bottom of it to render it
mischievous. The great, the radical difference between our age
and the centuries which preceded the invention of printing,
ought to be explained and realized. In those ages, the cost
of multiplying books was so great that very few copies, even
of the best, were made or could be afforded; and the author's
right of property in his work- that is, his rightful control
over the privilege of reproducing it - was of slender or
doubtful pecuniary value. Homer, of course, received nothing
for his masterly and immediately, universally popular works,
beyond the few pence flung to him here and there in requital
for the pleasure he afforded by singing them. Cicero was
paid for his orations by his clients, never by his readers.
And thus it chanced that the dedication of books, now so
absurd and unmeaning, had once a real force and significance.
Authors, as a class, were never rich, and those who were poor
had yet inherited a prejudice against living on air. And,
since their works had no pecuniary value when completed,
450 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
they were very poor security, while yet unwritten, for the
bread that must be eaten, and the wine which would be drank,
by the authors while writing them.   So each poor aspirant
for literary distinction was obliged, at the outset of his undertaking, to seek and find a patron, wealthy, and fond of doing
public-spirited acts, or at least of the famine thence arising, who
would be willing to subsist him while at his work and reward
him at its close. The Dedication, then, was the author's
public and formal acknowledgment of his obligation to his
patron, -his avowal that the credit of the work ought to be
divided between them, -just as to-day the inventor of a
mechanical improvement, and the capitalist who supplies the
money wherewith to perfect and secure it, often take out a
patent jointly. But the Art of Printing, and the general
diffusion of knowledge. and literary appetite, have abolished
patrons, by abolishing the necessity which evoked them; so
that there is now but one real patron, The Public, and nearly
all dedications to particular individuals are affected, antiquated, fnd unmeaning.
It is a very common but a very mischievous notion, that
the writing of a book is creditable per se. On the contrary,
I hold it discreditable, and only to be justified by proof of
lofty qualities and generous aims embodied therein. To write
a book when you have nothing new to communicate, -
nothing to say that has not been better said already,- that is
to inflict a real injury on mankind.  A new book is only to be
justified by a new truth. If Jonas Potts, however illiterate
and commonplace, has been shipwrecked on Hudson's Bay,
and has travelled thence overland to Detroit or Montreal by
a route previously unknown, then he may give us a bookif he will attempt no more than to tell us as clearly as possible what he experienced and saw by the way,- which will
have a genuine value, and which the world may well thank
him for; and so of a man who, having manufactured charcoal
all his days, should favor us with a treatise on burning charcoal, showing what was the relative value for that use of the
451 
MISCELLANIES.
various woods; how long they should be on fire respectively;
how much wood should be burned in one pit, and how the
burning should be managed. Every contribution, however
rude and humble, to our knowledge of nature, and of the
means by which her products may most advantageously be
made subservient to our needs, is beneficent, and worthy of
our regard. But the fabrication of new poemns, or novels, or
essays, or histories, which really add nothing to our stock of
facts, to our fund of ideas, but, so far as they have any significance, merely resay what has been more forcibly, intelligibly,
happily, said already, - this is a work which does less than
no good, -which ought to be decried and put down, under
the general police duty of abating nuisances. I would have
every writer of a book cited before a competent tribunal and
made to answer the questions: "Sir, what proposition is this
book intended to set forth and commend?  What fact does
it reveal?  What is its drift, its purport?"  If it embodies
a new truth, or even a new suggestion, though it seem a
very mistaken and absurd one, make way for it! and let it
fight its own battle; but if it has really no other aim than to
be readable, therefore salable, and thus to win gold for its
author and his accomplices, the printer and publisher, then
let a bonfire be made of its manuscript sheets, so that the
world may speedily obtain from it all the light it is capable
of imparting.
I once received a letter from a somewhat noted novelist,
pressing me to read thoroughly one of his works just issued,
which the cover proclaimed his "greatest novel," and which
he wished me to commend to general favor, saying he was
anxious to do his part toward the emancipation of the poor
from their unmerited degradations and miseries. I was not
able to read the book,- editors receive too many requests
like this; but I replied to the letter; saying, in substance:
"You wish to improve the condition of the poor. Well:
allow me to suggest a way. Take hold of the first piece of
vacant earth you can gain permission to use, plant an acre
with potatoes, cultivate and gather them, give one half to
452 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
such poor creatures as really need them, and save the balance
for your own subsistence while you grow more next year. In
this way, you will do more toward meliorating the condition
of the poor than you could by writing novels from July to
eternity." My philanthropic friend did not take my advice,
-he did not even thank me for it; but he soon after started
a newspaper, whereof he sent me the first five numbers, in
every one of which I received a most unmerciful flagellation.
The paper is since dead; but I have no doubt its editor continued his castigations to the last, and died laying it on with
whatever vigor he had left. I could not help that. I never
made any reply; but my convictions, as expressed in my
letter to him, remain unchanged to this day.
Yet let us not seem to disparage the Author's vocation;
nay: we dare not, we cannot.   There is no other earthly
exercise of power so Olympian, pervasive, enduring.  Reflect
how many generations, dynasties, empires, have flourished and
vanished since the Book of Job was written; and how many
more will rise and fade, leaving that sublime old poem still
fresh and  living.   See Cicero, Virgil, Horace,  Livy, still
studied and admired by the patrician youth of nations unknown to PRome in her greatness, while all other power pertaining to the Pagan era of the Eternal City has long since
passed away forever. Nay: consider how Plutarch, ~schylus,
Plato, living in a world so very different from ours,- in
many respects, so infantile compared with ours,-can still
instruct the wisest and delight the most critical among us,
and you may well conclude that to write nobly, excellently,
is a far loftier achievement than to rule, to conquer, or to kill,
and that the truly great author looks down on the little strifes
and agitations of mankind from an eminence which monarchs
can but feebly emulate, and the ages can scarcely wear away.
But eminence in any good or great undertaking implies
intense devotion thereto, - implies patient, laborious exertion,
either in the doing or in the preparing for it.  He  who
453 
MAISCELLANIES.
fancies greatness an accident, a lucky hit, a stroke of good
fortune, does sadly degrade the achievement contemplated,
and undervalue the unerring wisdom and inflexible justice
wherewith the universe is ruled. Ask who among modern
poets have written most admirably, so far as manner and
finish are regarded, and the lover of Poetry least acquainted
with Literary History will unhesitatingly answer,-  Pope,
Goldsmith, Gray, Moore, Campbell, Bryant, Longfellow, Tennyson. He may place others above any or all of these in
power, in genius, in force; but he cannot doubt that these
have most smoothly, happily, faultlessly, sung what they had
to sing, - that their thoughts have lost less than almost any
others' by inharmony or infelicity of expression. Then let him
turn to Biography, and he will find that these men have excelled nearly or quite all others in patient study, in fastidious
determination to improve, so long as improvement was practicable; in persistent labor, so long as labor could possibly
avail. It was quite easy for Pope to say, "The things I have
written fastest have always pleased most"; for he always
studied and thought himself full of a subject before he began
to write about it, and his composition was merely a setting
down and arrangi.ng of ideas already present in his mind.
And yet I apprehend that Posterity has not ratified his judgment; I mean, that his works which "pleased most " when
first published have not stood the test of time as well as some
others.  The world of letters knew him as a pains-taking,
laborious, correct writer, even before he had established his
claim to be honored as a great one. And the works he wrote
so rapidly he afterward revised, corrected, altered, recast,
before allowing the public to see them, to the sad encouragement of blasphemy among his printers, so that on one occasion his publisher decided that it would be easier to compose
in type afresh than attempt to correct one of his proofs. No
man ever wrote better, so far as style is regarded; because no
man was ever more determined to publish nothing that he
could improve.   So Goldsmith considered four lines of his
"Deserted Villa,ge" a good day's work, and the world has
454 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
ratified his judgment.  Writh the kindred "Elegy" of Gray,
this belongs to a school of poetry which I do not transcendently admire; but its excellence after its kind, I presume, no
one has ever doubted. And it is related of Moore, the most
fastidious and the most melodious writer of our time, that a
friend once travelled with him all day, and was surprised by his
taciturn moodiness and abstraction, until, just before night,
his face lighted up, and he exclaimed, like the old Greek: "I
have it! That will do!" -then explained to his startled companion that he had been all day trying to adjust a rhyme or
counterpart to a line in one of his then unfinished poems, and
had but just now succeeded. It is thus that works which the
world prizes and embalms are composed. A style termed
"easy" is generally obtained at great expense of time and
effort, whether in the immediate composition or in the lifelong, preparation for it; and he who calculates on storming
the ramparts of literary fame by the audacity, the impetuosity,
of his genius, will very certainly be repulsed and discomfited.
The "kingdom of heaven" may "suffer violence," but the
republic of letters resents and repels it.
0, my erring friend! delighted that your son of fourteen
years or your daughter of twelve has written a page of not
intolerable verses, I pray you to lay this lesson to heart!
I can sympathize with your paternal partiality; I do not
wonder that you are proud of your child's achievement,- for
the writing even of bad verses at so tender an age is an
achievement in one sense, and may plausibly be deemed by
you a sign of promise,- but you are thinking of the figure
t7hose verses would cut in the Poet's Corner of some journal,
of the praises they would elicit and the distinction they
would confer on their writer; and against these fond, foolish, perilous fancies I most earnestly protest and warn you.
If your child has any talent-  which is possible, though not
probable; for precocity in any but secret authorship argues
a low idea of the diffic3ulties of creditable composition, and a
taste easily satisfied, because of the poverty of its concep
455 
MISCELLANIES.
tions of excellence,- still, it is possible your child has talent,
(which I am confident he did not inherit); and, if he has, you
are taking the very course to ruin him. Puff him up with
the conceit that he is an author at fourteen, and he will pretty surely have proved himself a fool before he is twenty-five.
But read over his composition with him, and kindly point out
its faults or weaknesses; encourage him to try again, and
avoid these errors if possible, but studiously withhold his productions from publicity, and impress him with the truth that
to write feebly or badly,- as he cannot now help doing if he
writes at all, - is only creditable or noteworthy as it renders
possible his writing well after he shall have attained intellectual and physical maturity. Thus cultivate, chasten, and
ripen his faculty, but never stimulate it; and there is a possibility that it may ultimately ally him to the great and good
of past ages; but let him set out with the conceit that he is
a prodigy, and his wreck and ruin are inevitable.
It only remains to me to speak more especially of my own
vocation, -the Editor's, - which bears much the same relation to the Author's that the Bellows-blower's bears to the
Organist's, the Player's to the Dramatist's, Jullien or Listz to
Weber or Beethoven. The Editor, from the absolute necessity of the case, cannot speak deliberately; he must write
to-day of to-day's incidents and aspects, though these may
be completely overlaid and transformed by the incidents and
aspects of to-morrow. He must write and strive in the full
consciousness that whatever honor or distinction he may acquire must perish with the generation that bestowed them, -
with the thunders of applause that greeted Kemble or Jenny
Lind, with the ruffianism that expelled Macready, or the
cheerful laugh that erewhile rewarded the sallies of Burton
or Placide. No other public teacher lives so wholly in the
present as the Editor; and the noblest affirmations of unpopular truth,-  the most self-sacrificing defiance of a base and
selfish Public Sentiment that regards only the most sordid
ends, and values every utterance solely as it tends to pre
456 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
serve quiet and contentment, while the dollars fall jingling
into the merchanlt's drawer, the land-jobber's vault, and the
miser's bag, - can but be noted in their day, and with their
day forgotten. It is his cue to utter silken and smooth sayings,- to condemn Vice so as not to interfere with the pleasures or alarm the consciences of the vicious,- to praise and
champion Liberty so as not to give annoyance or offence to
Slavery, and to commend and glorify Labor without attempting to expose or repress any of the gainful contrivances by
which Labor is plundered and degraded. Thus sidling dexterously between somewhere and nowhere, the Able Editor of
the Nineteenth Century may glide through life respectable
and in good case, and lie down to his long rest with the nonachievements of his life emblazoned on the very whitest marble, surmounting and glorifying his dust.
There is a different and sterner path,- I know not whether
there be any now qualified to tread it, - I am not sure that
even one has ever followed it implicitly, in view of the certain
meagerness of its temporal rewards and the haste wherewith
any fame acquired in a sphere so thoroughly ephemeral as
the Editor's must be shrouded by the dark waters of oblivion.
-This path demands an ear ever open to the plaints of the
wronged and the suffering, though they can never repay advocacy, and those who mainly support newspapers will be
annoyed and often exposed by it; a heart as sensitive to
oppression and degradation in the next street as if they were
practised in Brazil or Japan; a pen as ready to expose and
reprove the crimes whereby wealth is amassed and luxury enjoyed in our own country at this hour, as if they had only been
committed by Turks or Pagans in Asia some centuries ago.
Such an Editor, could one be found or trained, need not expect to lead an easy, indolent, or wholly joyous life,  - to be
blessed by Archbishops or fo)llowed by the approving shouts
of ascendant majorities; but he might find some recompense
for their loss in the calm verdict of an approving conscience;
and the tears of the despised and the friendless, preserved
from utter despair by his efforts and remonstrances, might
freshen for a season the daisies that bloomed above his grave.
457 
MISCELLANIES.
Let me conclude by restating the main propositions which
pervade and vivify this essay. Literature is a noble calling,
but only when the call obeyed by the aspirant issues from a
world to be enlightened and blessed, not from a void stomach
clamoring to be gratified and filled. Authorship is a royal
priesthood; but woe to him who rashly lays unhallowed
hands on the ark or the altar, professing a zeal for the welfare
of the Race only that he may secure the confidence and sympathies of others, and use them for his own selfish ends! If
a man have no heroism in his soul, -no animating purpose
beyond living easily and faring sumptuously, - I can imagine
no greater mistake on his part than that of resorting to authorship as a vocation. That such a one may achieve what he
regards as success, I do not deny; but, if so, he does it at
greater risk and by greater exertion than would have been
required to win it in any other pursuit.. No: it cannot be
wise in a selfish, or sordid, or sensual man to devote himself
to Literature; the fearful self-exposure incident to this way
of life,- the dire necessity which constrains the author to
stamp his own essential portrait on every volume of his works,
no matter how carefully he may fancy he has erased, or how
artfully he may suppose he has concealed it,- this should
repel from the vestibule of the temple of Fame the foot of
every profane or mocking worshipper.  But if you are sure
that your impulse is not personal nor sinister, but a desire
to serve and ennoble your Race, rather than to dazzle and be
served by it; that you are ready joyfully to "shun delights,
and live laborious days," so that thereby the well-being of
mankind may be promoted, - then I pray you not to believe
that the world is too wise to need further enlightenment, nor
that it would be impossible for one so humble as yourself to
say aught whereby error may be dispelled or good be diffused.
Sell not your integrity; barter not your independence; beg of
no man the privilege of earning a livelihood by Authorship;
since that is to degrade your faculty, and very probably to
corrupt it; but, seeing through your own clear eyes, and uttering the impulses of your own honest heart, speak or write as
458 
LITERATURE AS A VOCATION.
truth and love shall dictate, asking no material recompense,
but living by the labor of your hands, until recompense shall
be voluntarily tendered to secure your service, and you may
frankly accept it without a compromise of your integrity or a
peril to your freedom. Soldier in the long warfare for Man's
rescue from Darkness and Evil, choose not your place on the
battle-field, but joyfully accept that assigned you; asking not
whether there be higher or lower, but only whether it is
here that you can most surely do your proper work, and meet
your full share of the responsibility and the danger. Believe
not that the Heroic Age is no more; since to that age is only
requisite the heroic purpose and the heroic soul. So long as
ignorance and evil shall exist, so long there will be work for
the devoted, and so long will there be room in the ranks of
those who, defying obloquy, misapprehension, bigotry, and
interested craft, struggle and dare for the redemption of the
world. "Of making many books there is no end," though
there is happily a speedy end of most books after they are
made;.but he who by voice or pen strikes his best blow at
the impostures and vices whereby our race is debased and
paralyzed may close his eyes in death, consoled and cheered
by the reflection that he has done what he could for the emancipation and elevation of his kind.
459 
POETSAND POETRY.
E are all born poets.  Not that every tenanted cradle
holds an undeveloped  Shakespeare, - far from it.
I)emnonstrated intellectual greatness is the prerogative of the
few; it is "the vision," not "the faculty divine," which is the
birthright of the many. The grime of smoke and care and
sin heavily inwraps, incases, japans, many souls, even in
early childhood, -as we see children of seven years prematurely haggard with suffering, squalor, and vice, - but there
was a time when these imps were poets, lacking only the
power of expression. The child who conjectured that the
stars were but chinks or crannies of heaven, - gimlet-holes
bored in the adamantine firmament to let God's glory
through; the prattler who watched the darkening evening
sky, until, espying the first bright speck through its dusky
medium, she rapturously exclaimed,  "There! God has made
a star!"- were happy only in expressing the common  impulses of childhood. As all young children are actually theists, - believers in a veritable, personal, conscious, omniscient, omnipotent Author and Ruler of all things, and utterly
averse to substituting for this natural, tangible conception
any thin attenuation of Pantheistic fog or "fire-mist," any
blank Atheistic assumption, which gives to blind Chance or
minexorable Fate the name of Law, -so the uncorrupted child
instinctively perceives the poetic element in Nature, realizes
that we are not the mere combinations of gases and alkalies
to which the chemist's crucible would reduce us, but beings
of mysterious origin and untold spiritual force, inhabiting a 
POETS AND POETRY.
world only less weird and wondrous than ourselves.   The
Frenchman, who was astounded by the discovery that he had
been talking prose all his life, might have been equally
amazed by the assurance that he formerly thought, if he did
not utter, poetry, - and this was as true as the other. Every
close observer must have noted how naturally the talk of unschooled, unspoiled children takes on poetic vestments,- becomes dramatic not merely, but hyperbolic and imaginative
in a high degree. Emerson truly says that the first person
who called another puppy or ass was a poet,- perceiving in
the individual contemplated a spiritual aptitude to bark or
bray, as the case might be. I only add that the first child
who ever saw a man making an ass of himself;,- which, with
all deference to our common progenitor, I apprehend was the
first child that ever clearly saw anything whatever, - at once
perceived the spiritual similitude, and probably blurted out
the ungracious truth. All savage tribes- that is, all nations
still in their mental childhood -have a poetic literature, if
any;  their legends, their traditions, their romances, their
chronicles, are all poetic, alike in substance and in diction.
Of this truth our Aborigines afford a ready demonstration.
A stagnant or decrepit race, like the Chinese, may have their
prosaic ordinances, statutes, records, statistics, philosophies;
not so a vigorous, elastic, Teutonic tribe or Saracenic empire.
Thus we naturally find some of the most admired and remarkable poems- the Book of Job, the Hebrew Psalms, the
Iliad, and the Bagavhat Geta of the Hindoos- dating back to
the infancy of Society, as the Inferno, and Shakespeare's and
Milton's masterpieces, ally themselves with the infancy of
modern civilization, or of the Protestant development thereof.
We laugh at Nimrod Wildfire and kindred etchings of the
hyperbolic or exaggerated modes of speech indicative of a
new country, -new, that is, to the race now inhabiting it;
the story of a Western soil so fertile that a crowbar, carelessly
thrust into it overnight, is found bristling with spikes and
tenpenny nails next morning;  of the pumpkin-vine, that
outran the steed of the rather astonished traveller; of the
461 
MISCELLANIES.,
Vermonter, whose chance companion in the cutter behind a
rather lively nag at length perplexedly inquired, "What graveyard is this we are passing through?" and was answered,
"Only the milestones along the road," -but a new people
are irresistibly prone to these exaggerations.   The young
American, who goes abroad, finds himself obliged to moderate
and tone down his ordinary conversation to adapt it to the
general level; to speak of Niagara, or Lake Superior, or the
glaciers of Switzerland, in the language that rises spontanleously to his lips, would jar the nerves of his polished listeners,
and he would very possibly be reminded, by some highly
respectable citizen, that the view from the foot of the great
cataract at Niagara could not possibly be that of a falling
ocean, since the narrowest ocean is three thousand miles
across, while Niagara is hardly a mile. The well-bred Englishman of to-day is so fenced in, incrusted, barricaded, with
respectabilities, proprieties, decencies, that the poetic element
-nay, even the faculty of appreciating it- seems choked
oat of him; hence, the British poets of to-day find a warmer
and more general appreciation with us than at home; and I
cannot doubt that there are many more Americans than
Britons familiar with the works of Scott, Byron, and I think
even Shakespeare.  Yet the English are our kinsmen; equal,
bout dissimilar, in mental capacities and aptitudes, - only we
are still in the poetic phase of our national life, out of which
they have passed.  We are too cultivated and critical to produce a great epic,- our Washington is no Achilles, no Alexander, no demigod, but a sensible, conscientious, conservative
Virginia planter, heartily loyal to Church and King; yet one
whom insane tyranny and regal folly converts at last into a
rebel,- of course, a more formidable rebel than any natural
agitator, leveller, demagogue, or even philosophizing democrat,
could be; for, when he draws the sword against the throne he
has revered and prayed for from childhood, be sure there are
not many left to draw for it whose support carries either
moral weight or physical power - the weight of numbers
along with it.  For Washington, though a model man in his
462 
POETS AND POETRY.
way, is not a representative American. His calm, sedate,
orderly frame of mind is not that which is habitual with or
prized by the mass of our people. He is such a man as the
multitude accept as a leader in a perilous and trying emergency, when they feel a pressing need of the sympathy and
aid of the solid "men of property and standing" in their
imminent struggle; but, had not Washington led the army of
the Revolution, he would never have been chosen President;
as a plain Virginia gentleman, he would have been beaten in
a canvass for the Legislature by some Davy Crockett, Sam
Houston, or Larry Keitt of his day, and would thereupon
have forsworn politics in disgust, and devoted his after life
to his family, his farm, and his stock, and been known only
to a hundred or two of the next generation as an upright
incorruptible justice of the peace, and a very capable and
soldierly captain of the militia company of his neighborhood.
No: Washington, in an age of peace and thrift, would never
have been "the gray-eyed Mar of Destiny," -never been
cheered at the theatre, nor glorified in the star-spangled journals. We heap such honors on men of a stamp very different
from his.
But to return to Poetry.
The most vulgar error of the vulgar mind with respect to
Poetry is that which somehow confounds it with verse, and
even with rhyme; supposing that a measured distich or quatrain, ending with words of similar but not identical sound, is
necessarily poetic.  Proud mothers will often draw forth from
the deepest recess of closet or bureau some metrical effusion
of budding son or daughter, which is supposed to be instinct
with poetry, because measured into feet and tagged with
rhyme; when in fact there is no more poetry in it than in
the request, "Pass me the baked potatoes." Rhymed couplets
of re,gularly measured and accented lines are a fashion of our
poetry, but no more essential to it than a silk or fur hat is to
the character of a gentleman.  It is barely possible that the
child who has an addiction to and knack of making verses
may nevertheless possess some share of the poetic faculty,
463 
MIS CELLANIES.
the Divine afflatus, - but the presumption against it is almost
overwhelming.   The poetic genius naturally disdains the
fetters of rhyme, or only consents to wear them at the beck
of stern necessity.  To the fresh, unhackneyed soul, kindling
with rapture inspired by its first perceptions of the beauty
inhering in the wonder-works of God, rhyme is as unnatural
and repulsive as the fool's cap and bells. For, not merely is
it true that there have been great poets who never dreamed
of such a thing as rhyme, and clever rhymsters who  had not
the faintest conception of poetry, but there have been genuine
poets who failed miserably as rhyming poetasters. John
Bunyan, for example, whose Pilgrim's Progress is the epic of
Methodism, - (I know, good reader, that he was not technically a Methodist, and that I ought to have said Evangelicalism, had there been such a word,)- and one of the truest,
if not the greatest, of British poems, wrote hideous doggerel
whenever he attempted verse, as the introduction to that
same epic bears testimony. There can hardly be a more
eertain evidence that a child has ceased to be poetic than
the fact that he has begun to rhyme.
The oldest and most natural -I should rather say, the
least unnatural- form of poetic expression, when poetry
ceased to be a purely spontaneous utterance of exalted and
overmastering emotions, and became, in some sense, an art,
is that of parallelism, or the expression of the same idea or
sentiment through two succeeding images or affirmations; the
second being merely cumulative or confirmatory of the former.
The Hebrew Scriptures embody some of the earliest and most
familiar examples of this parallelism, of which I cite Ruth's
appeal to Naomi as a beautiful exemplification:                            "And Ruth said:
' Entreat me not to leave thee,
Nor to return from following after thee:
For whither thou goest I will go,
And where thou lodgest I will lodge:
Thy people shall be my people,
And thy God my God:
Where thou diest will I die,
And there shall I be buried."'
464
t 
POETS AND POETRY.
I am inclined to deem this parallelism, which informs all
the poetry of the Bible, not exclusively Hebrew, but a mode
of poetic expression natural to the primitive stages of Society,
the      intellectual puberty of the Race; though I at this moment recall few examples of it outside of Hebrew lore. Mungo
Park, the explorer of Central Africa, relates that, as he lay
sick and suffering in the Great Desert, the negro women, who
mercifully ministered to his sore necessities, gave utterance
to their sympathy in a rude song, of which the burden ran
thus:
"Let us pity the poor white man: 
He has no mother to bring him milk,
No wife to grind his corn."
A parallelism as palpable, though not so perfect, as any in
Job or Ecclesiastes.
" The Poet," says Emerson, "is the man without impediment." If so, I apprehend that the Poets of our world's infancy enjoyed certain marked advantages over their modern
successors. Not only was the whole range of poetic imagery
then fresh and unused, so that the bard was never constrained
to discard a happy simile occurring to his mind because some
other bard had used it before him, but, moreover, his utterance was nowise impeded or shackled by the necessity of
obeying the rules or formulae established by preceding bards
and their critics, for the government of the realm of Poetry.
If the soul of the universe found expression through his burning words,   if their perusal inspired the reader with a deeper
and truer perception of the infinite reason which inheres in
seeming dissonance, as well as obvious harmony and good,,if he were impelled by it to love and practise virtue, to loathe
vice, yet pity its victims, and to count nothing a defeat or
disaster which did not involve a surrender of his own high
purpose, his generous aspiration for human well-being, - then
was he a true poet, whom the ages were waiting to crown,
though Fadladeen should demonstrate unanswerably his ignorance of the first rudiments of the minstrel's art. But the
poet of our day must be an obedient vassal to an inexorable
30
465 
MISCELLANIES.
rule, - must shun ruggedness or wilfulness of expression as
a mortal sin, -must respect the unities, and be loyal to
rhythm and rhyme,- or he cannot induce the critics even to
blast him with their thunders. True, a wild colt of a bardling will now and then revolt against this despotism, and go
prancing and kicking, and displaying his ill-conditioned,
shaggy coat across Nature's wide, bare common; but the
critical shrug ultimately kills if. it does not tame him, and he
is left but the sorry choice between subsiding into a patient
dray-horse, and being cut up for dog's meat. MacDonald
Clarke, twenty years ago, and "Walt. Whitman," just now,
undertook to be poets in defiance of the canons of the art;
but, though the latter received the unmeasured indorsement
of Emerson, and obtained an immediate currency on the
strength of it, I doubt whether even he, despite his unquestionable originality, and dazzling defiance of what men have
been accustomed to regard as decency, will ever achieve the
distinction,of being knocked on the head with a volume of
the Edinburgh Pteview.
The earliest poets were,  I apprehend,  the shepherds of
Arabia, Chaldea, and that westernmost jut of the great Asian
continent, wherein so large a share of the events memorable
in Man's history have transpired. All shepherds are naturally poets; or rather, the loneliness, the silence, and the seriousness, of the shepherd's life naturally predispose him to
poetry. He is not necessarily and constantly absorbed in his
daily duties, which yet require of him a wakeful, alert understanding, and senses sharpened to acuteness by the necessity
of keen perception and watchful observation. When at
length his flock have sunk, at early evening, to rest, and the
shepherd crouches, wrapped in his blanket-cloak, beside them,
his mind awakens to a loftier activity ere his senses are sealed
in slumber: from his mountain-side elevation, he looks abroad
across rolling river and twinkling city - across valleys where
the fog begins to gather and wooded ridges fluttering in the
chill night-breeze - to other mountains, vast and towering as
466 
POETS AND POETRY.
his own, and to heaven, vaster and higher than them all, and
the feelings of immensity, of awe, and of reverence are
stirred within his soul: if of a cold, calculating, mathematical nature, he becomes an astronomer, and begins to weigh
the stars in his balance; if of a fervid, impulsive genius, his
meditations melt and glow into poetry. From shepherd races
and shepherd climes have come forth the instructors, conquerors, bards, and civilizers of the barbarian world.
But the mountainous ruggedness, the "cloudless climes and
starry skies," of Chaldea, Syria, and Arabia, so unlike the
vast plains of Sarmatia and Scythia, are especially favorable
to the development of the poetic fire; hence, the Book of Job,
so manifestly pastoral in its origin as well as its imagery, is
one of the sublimest, as it probably is the very oldest, of surviving poems. True, the author is palpably a scholar, an observer, a traveller, who has gathered all the world knew in his
day of astronomic as of terrestrial lore; but his hero is a
Chaldean or IHebrew herdsman, living by the side of the
great Arabian desert, and subject to the mischances and sudden reverses which constantly threaten and frequently befall
the shepherds of that region, even in our own day. In its
magnificent imagery, as well as in its characters and incidents, Job is the simplest and grandest, as well as oldest, of
pastoral poems.
A shepherd boy, keeping his flock on the sterile mountains
of Judea, in constant peril from the savage beasts and not
less savage men of the desert, -"a cunning player on an
harp," sought out by King Saul's servants to expel the evil
spirit which had taken possession of their master (alas that
the evil spirits which gain control of rulers cannot always be
thus exorcised!),- a battler for his race and faith and native
land, volunteering to encounter, while still a mere lad, the
giant champion of their mortal foe, and vanquishing him in
deadly combat,- a fugitive from the jealous madness of his
royal master, into whom the Evil One seems to have again
entered, and there intrenched himself beyond dislodgement
467 
MISCELLANIES.
by the powers of music, - a needy and desperate wanderer
and outlaw for years, carrying his life in his hand, - then
the anointed monarch and idolized hero of his nation, - then
dethroned and put to flight by the ingratitude and perfidy of
his favorite son and the fickle levity of his people,-  again
restored to a throne of increasing splendor, and dying peacefully and regally in extreme old age, at the summit of- his
power and glory, - if I were required to name that one who
of all men had lived the most arduous, stirring, eventful life,
most full of violent contrasts and trying situations, of love
and war, of glory and humiliation, I must say, David, king of
Israel. A life so full of absorbing action would seem to give
little chance for literary culture or achievement; and yet this
warrior king, who could not be permitted to build the Great
Temple to his God, because he had been a man of violence
and blood, has bequeathed us so many Psalms in which the
waiting, contrite souls of ages so remote and races so diverse
as ours from his find a fuller and fitter expression of their
aspirations and their needs than all the piety and genius of
intervening ages have been able to indite. Yes, this untaught
shepherd son of Jesse, this leader in many a sanguinary fight,
this man of a thousand faults and many crimes, knew how
to sweep the chords of the human heart as few or none have
ever touched them before or since,- to take that heart, with
all its frailty, its error, its sin, and lay-it penitently, pleadingly, at the footstool of its Maker and Judge, and teach it
by what utterances, in what spirit, to implore forgiveness and
help. Other thrones have their successions, dynasties, their
races of occupants; but David reigns  unchallenged King
of Psalmody till Time shall be no more.
Of Greek Poetry I have a right to say but little. The
general impression it makes on me is that of youthfulness on
the part of its authors.  The most learned among us do not
know those old Greeks verywell; and I am often impelled to
wonder whether the versatile, elastic, cheating, unreliable
Greeks of our day are not lineal descendants, not of the
468 
POETS AND POETRY.
Spartans, perhaps, but of the Athenians and Argives of old;
whle'GLher the latter did not hate work and love profit as much
as the Fanariote or the Greek trader of our time;  nay,
whether the Spartans themselves, plus a few  satisfactory
fio,gin,s, are not reproduced in the warrior mountaineers of
Albania and the fierce robber bands which infest the passes
and plains of Thessaly. True, the Athenian of to-day is
behind the citizens of Western Europe in culture, in courage,
and in most manly virtues; but may he not be as far in
advance of the Western Asiatic of Xerxes' or Darius's reign
as were the countrymen of Miltiades or Alexander? Europe
north of the Alps has unquestionably advanced; may not
Greece have simply stood still, instead of retrograding? The
solution of this doubt is to be found, not in the prowess nor
the physical achievements of the old Greeks, but in their
literature, and especially their tragedy.
The Greek epic held substantially the place of the modern
novel; I cannot so confidently say that the novel flls the
place i the epic. The epic embodied and presented human
life unider its more heroic and majestic aspects,-  the life of
the patriot, ready to seal his devotion with his blood. Greek
life, as depicted by Homer, is rude and sterile; its pleasures,
gross and sensual; its gods, men and women endowed with
supernatural powers, but not at all distinguished by supernatural virtues. It would be very rash in me to pronounce
Homer monotonous, and at times tedious, when the scholars,
who know him so much better, say exactly the reverse; so I
will not hazard the criticism, though I shall privately cherish
my own opinion. I wonder if any one else ever detected or
fancied a resemblance between the roll of Homer's heroes and
Catlin's gallery of Indian portraits?
The Epic is the utterance of a ruder age than ours.  The
scholar still praises it,- he thinks he delights in it,- but it
is the delight of association, of comparison, of remembrance,not of direct and simple enjoyment. Who ever heard of an
edition of the Iliad in translation being required by the unclassical youth of Great Britain, of this or of any other mod
a
469 
MISCELLANIES.
ern country? I apprehend that, for each copy of any great
epic to be found in the hands or under the pillow of the
youth in all our common schools, you may find ten copies
of the Arabian Nights or of certain of Dickens's Novels.
Only by those who have been impelled to study them as a
task are the great epics still read; and by these rather as a
habit or duty than as a genuine pleasure.
Yet we must be grateful to the creators of the Epic, since
to them are we indebted, by direct transmission, by lineal
descent, for Tragedy, the broadest, the deepest, the most vivid,
expression of human emotions and aspirations.   AEschylus
is the true child of Homer, and that grand Athenian stage
whereon the passions, the impulses, the hopes, the fears, the
love, piety, guilt, revenge, remorse, which make up our
strangely compounded Human Nature, were depicted so intensely as never before nor since, was the outgrowth of those
lofty and stirring narrations wherewith "that blind old man
from Scio's rocky isle" was wont to beguile the hours and inspire the hearts of the ancestors of Pericles and Plato. From
the goat-song of the Mime, the cart of Thespis, the rude
chant of the ballad-singer, the monologue of the legendary,
the dialogue of the satirist, was rapidly elaborated that
shapely and towering fabric of Grecian Tragedy which must
awe, delight, and instruct mankind through ages yet to be.
The argument of Tragedy is the struggle of Man with Misfortune, - the spectacle of Virtue enduring the buffets of Adversity, and of Crime overtaken by the shafts of Retribution.
But Greek Tragedy essayed a loftier flight than ours, and presented the suffering but undaunted human soul enduring and
defying the bolts of Fate, the anger of the immortal gods.
We see there Guilt hurried irresistibly to its awful doom,inexorable Nemesis visiting the punishment of evil deeds
even upon the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of the
evil-doer, -the fair, the gentle, and the good, bowing to the
destiny invoked by the sin of some progenitor, - and this is
not unlike what experience and literature have elsewhere
made familiar; but Prometheus, chained to his rock and suf
0
470 
POETS AND POETRY.
fering the tortures  of  the  damned  for having dared  to
enlighten and bless mankind,  yet calm-souled and defiant,
awaiting the unknown but inevitable hour which shall dethrone his jealous and fearful Olympian tyrant, and bring
him deliverance and recompense, this is a conception peculiar
to Greek Tragedy, and the lesson of stoical endurance and
intellectual force taught by it is without a modern parallel.
Nor must we rashly conclude that the great tragic poets were
irreverent or hostile to the religion of their age and race.
Behind the fable of Prometheus rests the grand, eternal truth,
that all the forces of the universe are subject to the moral
law; that Good is the measure and true end of Power;
that tyranny and cruelty would still be what they are if
their responsible author were armed with celestial thunders;
that, if there could be a more benignant and just being
than the Deity, that being would' then be God.
Let me venture to cite one passage from the Agamemnon
of AE schylus as rendered by Bulwer in his Athens, -not one
characteristic of Greek Tragedy, but one which the reader of
poetry will readily contrast with familiar passages of Scott
and Byron. It is that in which Clytemnestra announces to
the chorus the glad tidings of the capture of Troy, - said tidings  having been transmitted by the good old fire-telegraph
of primitive times: -
"A gleam, - a gleam from Ida's height,
By the fire-god sent, it came;
From watch to watch it leaped, that light,
As a rider rode the flame!
It shot through the startled sky,
And the torch of that blazing glory
Old Lemnos caught on high,
On its holy promontory,
And sent it on, the jocund sign,
To Athos, mount of Jove divine.
Wildly the while it rose from the isle,
So that the might of the journeying light
Skimmed overthe back of the gleaming brine!
Farther and faster speeds it on,
Till the watch that keep Macistus' steep,   See it burst like a blazing sun!
471 
MISCELLANIES.
Doth Macistus sleep
On his tower-clad steep?
No! rapid and red doth the wild-fire sweep.
It flashes afar on the wayward stream
Of the wild Euripus, the rushing beam!
It rouses the light on Messapion's height,
And they feed its breath with the withered heath.
But it may not stay!
And away,- away,     It bounds in its freshening might.
Silent and soon,
Like a broadened moon,
It passes in sheen, Asopus green,
And bursts on Citheron gray.
The warder wakes to the signal rays,
And it swoops from the hill with a broader blaze,
On - on the fiery glory rode;
Thy lonely lake, Gorgopis, glowed,    To Mdgara's mount it came;
They feed it again,
And it streams amain, -
A giant beard of flame!
The headlong cliffs that darkly down
O'er the Saronic waters frown,
Are passed with the swift one's lurid stride,
And the huge rock glares on the glaring tide,
With mightier march and fiercer power
It gained Arachne's neighboring tower,
Thence on our Argive roof its rest it won,
Of Ida's fire the long-descended son!
Bright harbinger of glory and of joy!
So first and last, with equal honor crowned,
In solemn feasts, the race-torch circles round.
And these my heralds! this my Sign of Peace!
Lo! while we breathe, the victor lords of Greece
Stalk, in stern tumult, through the halls of Troy!"
The Romans were never a poetic pepple. Epicureans, who
philosophized in verse, like'Horace; biting satirists, like
Juvenal; happy weavers into verse of legendary lore, like
Virgil, the Longfellow of that sole age, the Augustan, in
which Roman literature seems to have been at all worthy of
the mistress of the civilized world; concise, critical, caustic,
pains-taking annalists the Romans were, it not poets.  Their
best metrical productions have a second-hand flavor; they
smell of the lamp; they would have been different, or never
have been at all, had there been no Greece.
472 
POETS AND POETRY.
Brownson says certain ages are termed Dark, because we
are in the dark with regard to them. Those who will may
assign a kindred reason for my assumption, that there was no
poetry worth treasuring and praising written between the
Augustan age and the timne of Dante, and that one needs to
be at least as good a Catholic as Dante to appreciate and
enjoy the Inferno.
When I assume that English Poetry for us begins with
Shakespeare, I must not be misunderstood.   That there is
merit of a certain kind in Chaucer, in Spenser, and other
British rhymers before the age of Queen Bess, is of course
manifest. But who in our day ever sat down to read Chaucer
or Spenser otherwise than as a task,- something requisite to
a competent knowledge of English literature?  For my part,
I say frankly that I hold The Faery Queene a bore, and never
had patience to complete its perusal. Its allegorical representations of our good and evil impulses are tedious, fantastic,
unreal, insufferable. They probably instructed and delighted
the generation for which they were written; but their fragrance has departed. Lay them respectfully, tenderly down
to their long rest, and let the gathering dust slowly bury
them out of sight!
But of that vast, "myriad-minded" Shakespeare, what
shall I say?  True, I do not love him; but do I the less appreciate and admire his intellectual force and grandeur? Because I profoundly hate his Toryism, shall I disparage his
unquestioned and, in its way unequalled, genius? Because I
am compelled to perceive that his jokes are often sorry and
his puns mainly detestable, must I be presumed to deny that
his humor is delicious and his imaginative faculty beyond
that of any other mortal?  By no means.
I am provoked by his ingrain Toryism, because it seems at
once unnatural and irrational. I will not deny that the mass
of men are base, - possibly as base as he represents them,
I will only insist that there are capacities, possibilities, in this
abused nature of ours, beyond our actual achievement, or beyond his apprehension of that achievement. Even if it were
473 
MISCELLANIES.
otherwise, he, a child of the people, the son of a woollendraper, should not have been first to discover and proclaim
the deplorable fact. Yet, no autocrat born in the purple nourished a more profound contempt for the rabble, the canaille,
the oi polloi, than this vagabond by statute and venison-thief
by conviction. In his game, only the court-cards count; all the
rest go for nothing. We, the untitled, undistinguished masses,
are not merely clowns and poltroons, fit only for butts for
knightly jests, and hardly good enough to be meat for knightly
swords, but there is a constant, though quiet, assumption that
this, as it ever has been, must continue to be forever. You
would naturally suppose that grandest event in modern history, the discovery of the Western continent, which was still
recent in his day, and which must have been the theme of
many a conversation in his presence among the Raleighs,
Drakes, and other daring spirits of that stirring time, who
had personally visited the New World, would have inspired
even in his breast some hope of a fairer future for Humanity
oni earth, -  some aspiration, at least, for a Social Order wherein
Rank and Wealth should not be everything, and Man nothing,
- but no: I cannot recall even a passing allusion to America,
save that most inaccurate one, "the still vext Bermoothes,"
and never once an intimation, a suspicion, that the common
lot might be meliorated through the influence of the settlement and civilization of this side of the globe. Of course,
the actor-manager-author meant no disrespect to us AngloAnericanis in prospect, nor yet to our Franco-American neighbors just north, nor to the Spanish and Portuguese Americans
south of us; it was only a way he had of viewing everything
with an eye which, though it oft, "in fine frenzy rolling,"
might " glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,"
never penetrated laterally much beyond the fogs of London and the palace of Whitehall, and not only saw in the million merely the counters wherewith kings and nobles played
their gallant game, but refused to see in them the possibility
of becoming anything better.
Whether Shakespeare the monarchist or Milton the repub
474
I 
POETS AND POETRY.
lican were intellectually the greatest Englishman who ever
lived, I will not judge; but none can doubt that, morally,
Milton was by far the superior. His purity of life and nobleness of aim; his constancy to the republican cause after it
had been irretrievably ruined; in short, his every act and
word, prove his immeasurably the nobler nature. Shakespeare, the Tory and Courtier, had he lived an age later,
could never have dared and suffered for his convictions as
Milton did for his. Nor, though he has written many finer
passages, which have found ten times as many delighted
readers  as aught of Milton's has found, or perhaps will ever
find, can I recall one passage from Shakespeare, which does
his manhood such honor as is reflected on Milton's by his two
sonnets on his blindness, which, however familiar, I shall
mak     e          no apology for citing -
ON HIS BLINDNESS.
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask: But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or His own gifts; who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state
Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait."
TO CYRIAC SKINNER.
Cyriac, this three years, day these eyes, though clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot,
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
475 
MISCELLANIES.
Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward.   What supports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, Friend, t' have lost them overplied
In Liberty's defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe rings from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask
Content, though blind, had I no better guide.
Such sentiments, not only uttered but lived, the efflux of
a serene, majestic soul, which calamity could not daunt, nor
humiliation depress, not merely honor our common nature,they exalt and ennoble it.  Shakespeare could no more have
written thus of himself than Milton could have created and
gloated over the character of Falstaff.
Of later English poets, prior to those of the reign of George
III., I regard Pope alone as deserving of remark; and he mainly
because of the unmeasured eulogies of Byron and others, who
certainly should be judges of poetry.   For myself, while
esteeming him a profound philosopher and moralist, and the
king of verse-makers, I should hardly account him a poet at
all.  "The Rape of the Lock" is undoubtedly a clever poem
of the slighter or secondary order; but very much of Pope's
verse, had it been cast in the m6uld of prose, would never
have struck us as essentially poetic. For all the poetry they
contain, sonme of his satirical verses might better have taken
the form of prose, not to speak of those which, for the sake of
decency, had better not been written at all. And so I say of
Goldsmith, Thomson, Cowper, Young, and their British cotemporaries: they understood the knack of verse-writing;
they did well what they undertook; their effusions- " The
Deserted Village," especially-may still be read with a mild
and temperate enjoyment; but a thousand such bards would
never have created a National Poetry, - never have produced
anything which other nations would eagerly translate and
delightedly treasure. Essentially, they are not poets, but essayists, sometimes moralists or sermonizers; at others, romancers
or story-tellers; but they produced nothing which mankind
476 
POETS AND POETRY.
could not easily spare. Let them glimmer awhile in their
decent, inoffensive mediocrity, then sink into a kind oblivion.
The credit of ushering in the brightest era of British Poetry
belongs to the Scotch ploughman and rustic, Robert Burns.
This man of many faults and sins, who little deemed himself
summoned to do the work of a literary reformer, was yet fated
to brush aside the sickly sentimentalisms and fantastic conceits of an artificial age, and teach Poetry to speak once more
to the soul in accents of Truth and Nature. At the sound of
his honest, manly, burly voice, the nymphs and goddesses, the
Chloes and Strephons, of a dawdling and unreal generation
vanished, and Poetry once more spoke from heart to heart in
her own unmuffled, undisguised voice, and was joyfully recognized and welcomed. I know that citations may be made
from Burns which would seem to contradict this statement;
but they prove only that he was at times fitfully ensnared by
the Delilahs whose sorceries he was nevertheless destined to
vanquish and conclude.  "A man's a man for a' that," "The
Twa DogTs," "The Cottar's Saturday Night," and many more
such, will for generations be read and admired in the gaslighted drawing-room, and by the log-cabin fireside, as vindications of the essential and proper nobility of Human Nature,
and of the truth that virtue and vice, worth and worthlessness,
fame and shame, are divided by no pecuniary, no social, line
of demarcation, but may each be found in the palace and in
the hovel,- under the casque of a noble or the cap of a boor.
In the character and works of Robert Burns is the first answer
of the dumb millions to the taunts and slurs of Shakespeare.
The great French Revolution- if I should not rather say,
the great mental world-revolution which preceded and impelled the French- ushered in a new era in Literature, and
especially in Poetry. Burns was the herald or forerunner of
this era, but he did not live to mark its advent.
I do not rank Walter Scott with the poets of our century.
Though chronologically his place is among them, he belongs
477 
MISCELLANIES.
essentially to another epoch, or at least to the period of transition. The morning-star of this era was Keats; its lurid and
oft-clouded sun was Byron. Keats was a dreamy and sensitive youth, whose soul found in poetry its natural expression;
but who had not attained the maturity of his genius, the perfection of his utterance, when a harsh and withering criticism
killed him. Byron was a wild and dissolute young lord, who
had made one tolerably good, and many weak, if not inexcusably bad, attempts at poetry, when a severe but just critique
stung him to madness, and his wrath and bitterness flashed
and glowed into enduring verse. His indignation was volcanic; but the lava it ejected was molten gold,- sulphurous,
as volcanic discharges are apt to be. As the death-freighted
thunderbolt, which often stuns and slays, has been known to
unseal the ears of the deaf and,the reason of the idiot, so the
harsh discipline which crushed the poet Keats made a poet
of the second-rate poetaster Byron.
When I assign to Byron a very high, if not the highest,
place among modern English poets, I will only ask those who
differ from me to instance another whose writings have been
so widely read, or have exerted so marked an influence on the
age in which they appeared and the generation then in their
teens. I do not commend that influence, - I realize that it
does not, on the whole, conduce to a more confiding faith in
either God or man. Byron's poems, equally with his life,
letters and conversation, excuse, if they do not justify, De
Stael's savage characterization, "l-Ie is a demon." Read Cain
and Manfred considerately, then take up Goethe's "Faust,"
and study the role of Mephistopheles, and you will be tempted
to guess, since Goethe could not well have modelled his
demon after Byron's life, that Byron must have modelled his
character on that of Goethe's devil.
It would be a difficult task to write an honest life of Byron
that would be adapted to the use of Sunday schools, unless
you were to do as he promised in the opening of Don Juan,
but failed to perform, when he gave out that his story would
be a moral one, because, before he ended it, he meant
478 
POETS AND POETRY.
"to show
The very place where wicked people go."
Yes, this sceptical, cynical, irreverent, law-deriding libertine
Byron has made his mark deeply on our century, and not
wholly for evil. His honest, profound, implacable hatred of
tyranny in every shape, where has it been surpassed, either
in intensity or in efficacy?  Do you believe Holy Inquisitions
and other machinery for torturing and killing men and women
for the honest avowal of their religious convictions could
endure another year, if every one had read "The Prisoner of
Chillon?" You or I may loathe his way of looking at the
great problem of Evil; but tell me who ever presented the
argument against what is currently termed the Evangelical
view of this problem more tersely, strongly, startlingly, than
he has done in "Cain, a Mystery "?  And his remark that,
"if Satan is to be allowed to talk at all, you must not expect
him to talk like a clergyman," is obviously just. You must
let him fairly present his view of "the great argument," as
Mlilton does not, as Byron does, but with too manifest a leaning to the infernal side.  Bind  up "Paradise Lost" and
"Cain" in one volume, and you will have therein the best
condensed statement of the pro and con of the theology currently accounted Orthodox or Evangelical that can be found
in the English language.
I think Moore has somewhere said before me, that the
Third Canto of Childe Harold contains some of the noblest
poetry we have. Waterloo, the Alpine thunder-storm, and
scores of passages equally vivid, will at once present themselves to the reader's mind. "Description is my forte," said
Byron; and Bayard Taylor, sailing through the Adriatic and
the Aogean, along the rugged coast of Dalmatia, and among
the ruin-strown, yet flower-mantled, "Isles of Greece," remarks that he finds himself continually recalling or repeating
the descriptive stanzas of Childe Harold, suggested by a
similar voyage; for nothing else could so truly, forcibly, aptly,
embody his own impressions and emotions.  Remember that
Homer and ZEschylus had gazed on much of this same pano
479 
MISCELLANIES.
rama, and written from minds full of the thoughts it excited,
and you are prepared to estimate the tribute paid by our
American traveller to the genius of Byron. Let me quote one
familiar passage - how could I quote any that is not familiar?
- from Manfred:  I cite that respecting the Coliseum, because, having myself seen the moon rise through its ruined
arches while Italian devotees were praying and chanting
within, and French cavalry prancing and manoeuvring without, its enormous walls, I feel its force more vividly than
though I had seen this mightiest monument of ancient Rome
in imagination only. Yet what could I say of that grandest
of ruins to equal this?
"MANFRED.
"The stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Of the snow-shining mountains. -Beautiful!
I linger yet with Nature, for the night
Hath been to me a more familiar face
Than that of man; and in her starry shade
Of dim and solitary loveliness,
I learned the language of another world.
I do remember me, that in my youth,
When I was wandering,- upon such a night
I stood within the Coliseum's walls,
Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome;
The trees which grew along the broken arches
Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars
Shone through the rents of ruin: from afar,
The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber; and,
More near, from out the Cesars' palace came
The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly,
Of distant sentinels the fitful song
Began and died upon the gentle wind.
Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach
Appeared to skirt the horizon; yet they stood
Within a bowshot.- Where the Cesars dwelt,
And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst
A grove which springs through level battlements,
And twines its roots with the imperial hearths,
Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth; But the gladiator's bloody circus stands,
A noble wreck, in ruinous perfection!
While Caesar's chambers, and the Augustan halls,
Grovel on earth in indistinct decay. And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon
480 
POETS AND POE'TRY.
All this, and cast a wide and tender light,
Which softened down the hoar austerity
Of rugged desolation, and filled up,
As't were anew, the gaps of centuries;
Leaving that beautiful which still was so, 
And making that which was not, till the place
Became religion, and the heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old! -
The dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
Our spirits from their urns."
Of Coleridge, Southey, Campbell, RPogers. and other cotemporaries of Byron, Wordsworth excepted, I shall say very
little.  Each did some things well; but, beyond a few stirring
lyrics by Campbell, and perhaps the Christabel and Genevieve of Coleridge, I think our literature could spare them all
without irreparable damage.
Wordsworth's ultimate triumph is a striking proof of the
virtue of tenacity. Here is a studious, meditative man, of no
remarkable original powers, who quietly says to himself, "Intensity of expression, vehemence of epithet, volcanic passion,
profusion of superlatives, are out of place in Poetry, which
should embody the soul's higher and purer emotions in the
simplest and directest terms which the language affords." So
he begins to write and the critics to jeer, but he calmly perseveres; and, when it is settled that he won't stop writing, the
critics conclude to stop jeering, and at length admit that he
was a poet all the while, but that their false canons or perverted tastes precluded their discovery of the fact for a quarter of a century.  I do not accept Wordsworth's theory,   I
believe there are ten.persons born each year who are fitted to
derive both pleasure and instruction from the opposite school
to one who can really delight in and profit by the bare, tame
affirmations which are characteristic of Wordsworth (for he,
like the founders of other schools, is not always loyal to his
own creed), - but that Wordsworth's protest against the intensity of the Byronic school was needed and wholesome, I
cannot doubt.
Yet it was not Wordsworth, not "the Lake school," as it
31
481 
MISCELLANIES.
was oddly designated, that led and inspired the reaction
against "the Satanic school," so called, of Poetry, by which
the later morning of the XIXth century was so mildly irradiated.  The credit of that reaction is primarily due to a
woman,- to Felicia Hemans. When Byron, still young,, was
dying in Greece of disappointment, and the remorse which a
wasted life engenders, she was just rising into fame among
the purest and happiest homes of England, like a full moon
rising calmly, sweetly, at the dewy close of a torrid and tempestuous day. It was her influence that hushed the troubled
waves of doubt and defiance and unrest, and soothed the
heaving breast into renewed and trusting faith in virtue, eternity, and God.
I apprehend that Mrs. Hemans finds fewer readers, with far
fewer profound admirers, to-day than she had thirty years
ago; and in this fact there is a strong presumption that we,
who so admired her then, assigned her a higher station than
her writings will maintain.  A pure and lovely woman, un]appy in her domestic relations, and nobly struggling by literature to subsist and educate her children, is very apt-to
arouse a chivalry, among readers not only, but critics, that is
unfavorable to sternness of judgment. I would gladly believe that the girls of 1868 read Mrs.'Hemans as generally,
and esteem her as highly, as their mothers did in their girlhood; but I fear their brothers, for the most part, neither
read nor admire her. Let me venture, therefore, for the sake
of my older readers, to cite one of her minor poems, which
must recall to many minds hours of pure and tranquil pleasure passed in the perusal of the author's fresh effusions. Forty years ago, had you opened a thousand American weekly
newspapers,- presuming that so many then existed,   you
would have found the "Poet's Corner" of at least one third
of them devoted to one of the latest productions of Mrs.
Hemans, and not one fourth so many given up to the verses,
of any other person whatever. Now, you might open three
thousand journals without discovering therein even her name.
Bryant, Tennyson, Longfellow, Whittier, Lowell, Holmes, now
482 
POETS AND POETRY.
fill her accustomed place; as, forty years hence, alas! some
fresher favorites will fill their places. So flows and ebbs this
transitory world! But let not us, hex old admirers, suffer her
name to drift by us into Oblivion's murky sea without a parting cup of remembrance. We will recall
THE ADOPTED CHILD.
"Why wouldst thou leave me, 0 gentle child?
Thy home on the mountain is bleak and wild,
A straw-roofed cabin, with lowly wall;
Mine is a fair and pillared hall,
Where many an image of marble gleams,
And the sunshine of picture forever streams."
"0, green is the turf where my brothers play,
Through the long, bright hours of the Summer's day!
They find the red cup-moss where they climb,
And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme,
And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know;
Lady, kind lady, 0 let me go."
"Content thee, boy! in my bower to dwell;
Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well:
Flutes on the air in the stilly noon,
Harps which the wandering breezes tune,
And the silvery wood-note of many a bird,
Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountain heard."
"0! my mother sings at the twilight's fall,
A song of the hills far more sweet than all;
She sings it under our own green tree,
To the babe half slumbering on her knee;
I dreamt last night of that music low,
Lady, kind lady! 0, let me go."
"Thy mother is gone from her cares to rest;
She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast;
Thou wouldst meet her footstep, my boy, no more,
Nor hear her song at the cabin door.
Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh,
And we'11 pluck the grapes of the richest dye."
"Is my mother gone from her home away?
But I know that my brothers are there at play:
I know they are gathering the foxglove's bell,
Or the long fern-leaves by the sparkling well;
483 
MISCELLANIES.
Or they launch their boats where the bright streams flow,
Lady, kind lady! 0, let me go."
"Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now;
They sport no more on the mountain's brow;
They have left the fern by the spring's green side,
And the streams where the fairy barks were tied.
Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot;
For thy cabin home is a lonely spot."
"Are they gone, all gone, from the sunny hill?
But the bird and the blue-fly rove over it still;
And the red-deer bound in their gladness free;
And the Ieath is bent by the singing bee,
And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow:
Lady, kind lady! 0, let me go!"
I do not know how many ever suspected, during his life,
that THOMAS HOOD was a poet of rare and lofty powers. I
apprehend, however, that they were, at least till near the close
of his career, a "judicious few," - fewer, even, than the judicious are apt to be.  For this true bard was nevertheless a
man, - though delicate in frame, and for the most part frail
in health, he had physical needs, - more than all, he had a
wife and children, who looked to him for daily bread, and
must not look in vain. Poet as he was, he knew that mankind not only stone their prophets before building their tombs,
but starve their poets before glorifying them; and he declined
to sacrifice his children's bread to his own glory. The world
would not pay cash down for poems, but freely would for fun;
so he chose to minit his golden fancies into current coin that
would pass readily at the grocer's and baker's, rather than
fashion it daintily into cameos and filigree-work, which he
must have pledged at ruinous rates with the pawnbroker.
And we, generation of blockheads! thought  him a rare buffoon, because he sported the cap and bells in our presence,
knowing this, though by no means the best thing he could do,
decidedly that for which we would pay him best. If his
"Whims and Oddities" imply the degradation of a great faculty, is not the fault, the shame, rather ours than his?  If
a modern Orpheus could only find auditors by fiddling for
484 
POETS AND POETRY.
bacchanal dancers in bar-rooms, could we justly reproach him
for his vulgar tastes and low associations?
We who so long read and laughed at Hiood's puns and
quips,- read and only laughed, when we should have thought
and sighed, - we might have seen, if we had sought instruction, and not mere recreation, that a great moralist, teacher,
philanthropist; an earnest hater of tyranny and wrong; a
warrior, with Damascus blade, on cant, and meanness, and
servility, - was addressing us in parables which were only
wasted, as others' parables have been, because our ears were
too gross, our understandings too dull and sordid, to perceive,
or even seek, their deeper meaning. We might have discerned
the lesson, but did not, because the laugh sufficed us.
Have I seemed to regret or condemn the law whereby the
true poet is divorced from the hope of gain by his faculty?
I surely did not mean it.  Wisely, kindly devised is that
Divine ordinance, "Ye cannot serve God and Mammon."
The law is steadfast and eternal, - the seeming exceptions
few and.factitious. The greatest benefactors of mankind have
waited till after death for the- recognition of their work and
their worth. If to speak the highest truths and do the noblest
deeds were the sure way to present fame and pelf, what merit
would there be in virtue, what place for heroism on earth?
If Poetry were the Pennsylvania Avenue to fortune and present fame, how could our earth upbear the burden of her
poets? No: it were better for Poetry that there had never
been a Copyright Law, so that the Poet's utterances were
divorced from all hope of pecuniary recompense. We should
then have had far fewer poems, perhaps, but not half the
trouble in unburying them from the avalanche of pretentious
rhythmical rubbish whereby they are overlaid and concealed.
Let aspiring youth evermore understand that writing Poetry
is not among the Divinely appointed means for overcoming
a dearth of potatoes. I do not say that potatoes were never
gained in this way, though I doubt that any were ever thus
earned.  Be this as it may, I am quite sure that no one ever
undertook to write Poetry for potatoes,- to satisfy his per
485 
MISCELLANIES.
sonal need of potatoes by writing Poetry,- who thereby truly
succeeded. He may have achieved the potatoes, but not ithe
Poetry. So Hood did manfully and well in writing "Whims
and Oddities" for a livelihood, and Poetry for fame alone.
Do you suppose the hope of money could ever have impelled
any man to write "The Song of the Shirt"?
Let us refresh our remembrance of him with the simplest
and best-known of his minor effusions, - one ten thousand
times quoted, familiar to almost every school-child, yet not
worn out, because it cannot be:
I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER.
I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away!
I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white,
The violets, and the lily-cups,Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built,
And where my brother set
The laburnum on his birthday, —
The tree is living yet!.
I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,
And summer-pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!
I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky.
It was a childish ignorance,
But now't is little joy
To know I'm farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.
486 
POETS AND POETRY.
Ilow many years is it since he who is England's Laureate
first dawned upon us? It seems to me scarcely twenty; yet
he must have been writing and printing for nearly twice that
period. It is a slow as well as arduous labor for even excellence to make itself felt across an ocean; yet I believe there
are to-day as many Americans as Englishmen who honor and
delight in the poems of Alfred Tennyson.  One of their best
characteristics is the carefulness, the evident labor and extreme polish, with which they are produced.' After thirty years
devoted to Poetry,- almost exclusively, I believe,- his writings may all be compressed within a moderate volume.  In
an age when many a by no means old man has turned out
his twenty volumes, and many a Miss in her teens has nearly
finished her third novel, this is a virtue indeed to be commended.   To one who has achieved the public ear - for
whose future issues eager publishers have checks of generous
amount ready to be exchanged for the unread manuscript -
the temptation to overwrite is hard to be resisted.  Poets
are popularly supposed to be, as a class, neither rich nor
frugal; the more honor, then, to one who refuses to dilute his
nectar like a milkman to whom the pump is convenient. I
was deeply interested in Bayard Taylor's anecdote of the
German poet Uhland, when in a green old age, who, to the
traveller's natural inquiry as to what work he was now composing or meditating, replied that he had not recently felt
constrained to write anything, -in other words, that nothing
now pressed upon his mind for utterance with irresistible
force. Would that authors, as a class, could truly say that
they write only under the spur of thoughts burning for expression,- not of appetites clamoring for satisfaction.
Though Tennyson has written sparingly, he has yet covered
much ground.   "In Memoriam," "The Princess," "Maud,"
- I hardly know who in our day has produced three poems
so unlike, yet each so excellent.  "In Memoriam" is probably the best expression of a profound and lasting, yet temperate and submissive, sorrow to be found in our language.
Yet his minor poems had made him a world-wide reputation
487 
MISCELLANIES.
made him the Queen's Laureate- before one of these was
written, at least before it was published. And they are
worthy of their fame.   So rich and pure in imagery, so
dainty and felicitous in expression, so musical and mellifluous in their rhythm and cadence, - they are rightly
ranked among the gems of English literature. Let me cite a
part of one of them which is not the most popular, but which
seems to me among the happiest. The fable, if fable it be,
that eating the lotus brings forgetfulness of care, answering
almost to the old Greek's draught from Lethe, is not novel;
but who before has ever treated it so well as this?
THE LOTUS-EATERS.
Courage!" he said, and pointed tow'rd the strand;
This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
In the afternoon, they came unto a land
In which it seemed always afternoon.
All'round the coast, the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And, like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
II.
A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
Slow-dropping vails of thinnest lawn, did go;
And some through wav'ring lights and shadows broke,
IRolling a slumb'rous sheet of foam below.
They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
From th' inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
Stood sunset-flushed: and, dewed with showery drops,
Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.
III.
The charmed sunset lingered low adown
In the red West: through mountain-clefts, the dale
Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale
And meadow, set with slender galingale;
A land where all things always seem'd the same!
And'round about the keel, with faces pale,
Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,
The mild-eyed, melancholy Lotus-eaters came.
488
1. 
POETS AND POETRY.
IV.
Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
To each; but whoso did receive of them,
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far, far away did seem to moan and rave
On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
HIls voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
And deep-asleep he seemed, yet all awake,
And music in his ears his beating heart did make.
V.
They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Between the sun and moon, upon the shore;
And sweet it was to dream of Father-land,
Of child and wife and slave; but evermore
Most weary seemed the sea, weary the oar,
Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
Then some one said, "We will return no more";
And all at once they sang, "Our island home
Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam."
Of Robert Browning the reading public knows too little;
it shall yet know more. Even in England, I found few
whose delight in him equalled my own; and I fairly startled
judicious friends by insisting that he is not inferior, on the
whole, to Tennyson. But there are obvious reasons why t7tis
prophet should be denied honor in his own country of all
others. For Browning's verse too often lacks clearness; his
fancies are piled one upon another in wild confusion; he is
fitfully fantastic and mystical; and John Bull has, of all men,
the most intense aversion to what is called Transcendentalism. There is an anecdote afloat of Douglas Jerrold meeting, a friend in the street soon after Browning's "Sordello"
was issued, and thrusting the book into his hands with the
fierce command, rather than entreaty, "Read that!"  The
puzzled friend read a few lines of the opening, and desisted, with  the remark, "Why,  this is rank  nonsense!"
".0, thank God!" exclaimed Jerrold; "then I am  not mad!
I was sure, if that was sense, that I ought to be sent to Bedlam at once." Another anecdote makes Browning gravely
relate to an intimate friend that hlie had tested in Sordello a
favorite theory, by omitting in the published copy each alter
489 
MISCELLANIES.
nate line of the poem as written; but he candidly added, the
experiment was a failure.
Browning's best issue was that which opens with "The
Blot on the Scutcheon," and contains "Pippa Passes,"
"Luria," and "Paracelsus." The first-named is one of the
purest, sweetest, most affecting dramatic poems in our literature; the action hastens to its catastrophe as resistlessly as,
and more naturally than, that of Hamlet or Macbeth; and
the heroine's dying wail over her lost innocence, her early
doom,
1' I had no mother, - God
Forsook me,- and I fell,"
has a condensed force and pathos rarely exceeded.
I am apt to have little sympathy with thie complaint that
an author is obscure. It very often implies only indolence
and lack of earnestness in the complainant. We are prone
to read too drowsily, and expect writers to spell out their
meaning to us; as if we were four-year-olds, still busy with
our "a-b-abs" and "baker."  There is an anecdote current to
this effect, that when Emerson first began to lecture transcendental-wise in Boston, one of his most constant auditors was
the able and veteran conservative lawyer, Jeremiah Mason,
accompanied by his daughters.'His brethren at the bar
were puzzled by this addiction on the part of so distinguished
a conservative, and wonderingly inquired of him whether he
understood what Emerson uttered.  He candidly responded
that he did not; but added that his daughters (girls of thirteen
and fifteen) understood it perfectly. There was probably more
truth in this reply than was intended.   The kingdom of
heaven stands not alone in being easier of access to little
children than to adults.  Comprehension is not the result of
knowledge solely, but of receptivity, of sympathy. It was
not nearly so easy for the old lawyer as for the young damsels
to attain the same plane of thought with the lecturer, and to
travel in the same direction. He might possibly have learned
more had he been less wise.
Yet it is deplorably true that our newest literature too
often lacks simplicity, lucidity, straightforwardness. It speaks
490 
POETS AND POETRY.
in riddles, when it should be natural, direct, and open as the
day. Carlyle is not half so obscure as his contemners declare
him;  yet h is "Sartor Resartus" cannot be thoroughly mastered and enjoyed by the average reader short of three or four
perusals; and how many will have patience to give it that
number? Whatever requires so many involves the pursuit
of knowledge under difficulties. Emerson, though he is no
longer opaque, did formerly try the patience, as well as the
discernment, of his admirers; and I can quite credit the story
told of one who stopped him in the street and recited a passage from one of his essays, asking what he meant by it; to
whic       h t  he aut hor of "Brahma"  and "The Sphinx," after
pondering the passage a moment, calmly replied that he certainly had a meaning in his mind when he wrote that sentence, though it had now unfortunately escaped him. But
Browning's  fault seems to inhere rather in utterance than in
conception; his mind is full of materials ill stowed, which
come rushing against and trampling over each other when
summoned to daylight, and so choke the aperture and prevent
egress, or rush forth an incongruous, confused mass, muddily
sweeping all before them. His later writings are half spoiled
by this chaotic whirl, and are thence inferior on the whole
to their immediate predecessors. Yet what a wealth of allusion, a mine of meaning, a daguerreotype of the intellectual
tendencies of the age, are found in "Bishop Blougram's
Apolog      y"!  And what have we clearer and purer in our
lang uage  than this?
EVELYN HOPE.
Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead!
Sit and watch by her side an hour.
That is her book-shelf, this her bed;
She plucked that piece of geranium flower,
Beginning to die, too, in the glass.
Little has yet been changed, I think;
The shutters are shut; no light may pass,
Save two long rays through the hinges' chink.
Sixteen years old when she died!
Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name,
491. 
MISCELLANIES.
It was not her time to love; beside,
Her life had many a hope and aim;
Duties enough, and little cares,
And now was quiet, now astir,
Till God's hand beckoned unawares,
And the sweet white brow is all of her.
Is it too late, then, Evelyn Hope?
What! your soul was pure and true;
The good stars met in your horoscope,
Made you of spirit, fire, and dew,And, just because I was thrice as old,
And our paths in the world diverged so wide,
Each was nought to each, must I be told?
We were fellow-mortals, nought beside?
No, indeed! for God above
Is great to grant, as mighty to make,
And creates the love to reward the love,  I claim you still, for my own love's sake!
Delayed, it may be, for more lives yet,
Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few;
Much is to learn and much to forget,
Ere the time be come for taking you:
But the time will come, - at last it will,
When, Evelyn Hope, what meant, I shall say,
In the lower earth, in the years long still,
That body and soul so pure and gay;
Why your hair was amber, I shall divine,
And your mouth of your own geranium's red, -
And what you would do with me, in fine,
In the new life come in the old one's stead.
I have lived, I shall say, so much since then,
Given up myself so many times;
Gained by the gains of various men,
Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes:
Yet one thing- one   in my soul's full scope,
Either I missed or itself missed me,And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope!
What is the issue? let us see!
I loved you, Evelyn, all the while,
My heart seemed full as it could hold,There was place and to spare for the frank young smile,
And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold.
So, hush! - I will give you this leaf to keep  See, I shut it inside the sweet, cold hand;
There- that is our secret! go to sleep;
You will wake, and remember, and understand.
492 
POETS AND POETRY.
I envy the biographer of Robert and Elizabeth Barrett
Browning. Twenty years ago they were poets, unknown to
each other, undistinguished; he poor, and each by no means
young.   I have heard that their first acquaintance came
through their published works, which revealed a sympathy
destined to make them one forever.  Reversing the usual
order, they loved, they became personally acquainted,, and
ware married. Thenceforward, each wrote better, more acceptably,- in the main, more lucidly,- than before; wrote,
doubtless, by the help of the other's happy suggestions as well
as loving criticisms. And so each won larger and still widening audience, and more generous appreciation, and ampler
recompense; and a fair son was born to them; and a wealthy
friend, nowise related to either, left them a modest fortune;
and they spent their wedded years partly in their native
England and partly in their beloved Florence, which inspired
both of them, but especially the wife, with some of her noblest
and most enduring poems, -" Casa Guidi Windows"  for
instance, and "Aurora Leigh," -and there, I believe, she
died, leaving her husband and son not to lament, but to
rejoice over and thank God for, the abiding memory of her
worth and her love.
I close this hurried survey without having attempted to consider the claims of any among our countrymen to the character
and designation of Poets. I should prefer to consider American Poetry by itself, and in its relations to that which preceded and that which is cotemporary with it. In so doing,
we should find, I judge, that, while it has grave faults,- faults
of imitation, of poverty, of crudity, of exaggeration,- it has
decided merits and excellences also,- merits not only eminent in themselves, but such as give promise of still loftier
achievement in the future. If we have contributed our full
share to the bounteous Anglo-Saxon stock of shallow and
sham poetry, we have also contributed our full quota - considering our youth as a nation, and our prosaic preoccupations, our lack of leisure, and of the highest intellectual culture- to that which the world will not willingly let die. I
493 
MISCELLANIES.
waive this discussion for the present, however, and close with
a more direct consideration of the problem, ".What is the
6ssential nature and true office of Poetry?"
Of course, I need waste no more time on the pitiable ignorance which confounds Poetry with Verse,- the eternal essence with the occasional form or garb, - though this delusion
has still many votaries,- I might say, victims. The young
lady who corrected a friend's allusion to Shakespeare as a Pet
with the smilingly confident assurance that his plays were not
poetry, not being rhymed, has still sharers in her sad misapprehension. Poetry is at least four thousand years old,- as
old as extant literature, if not older; while Rhyme, I suspect, can hardly be traced beyond the time of the Troubadours
of western and southern Europe, in the days of the Crusades,
Verse, Metre, or Rhythm is of course much older. I presumne some rude trace of this may be found in the very oldest
writings extant, - the chant or speech in Genesis of Lamech
to his wives, for instance, and the oldest Hindoo or Chinese
Poems.  But, though it may seem natural, and almost necessary, that poetic utterances should flow into harmonious or
rhythmical numbers, this is not inevitable. Chateaubriand,
one of the greatest poets of the last generation, wrote rarely in
verse. Willis has written good verses,' but his finest poem is
"Unwritten Music,"- in structure, a prose essay. That Rhyme
is not essential to Poetry, all probably know who clearly know
anything; but that measured and duly accented lines, each
beginning with a capital letter, do not constitute Poetry,
though it may be generally, is by no means universally understood. But we cannot define by negations alone; and the
question still recurs, What is Poetry?
I understand by Poetry that mode of expression or aver-.
ment which lifts the soul above, the region of mere sense,which reaches beyond the merely physical or mechanical aspects of the truth affirmed, and apprehends that truth in its
universal character and all-pervading relations, so that our
own natures are exalted and purified by its contemplation.
For instance, I affirm that the Creation was a wondrous, be
494 
POETS AND POETRY.
neficent work, which all intelligent, moral beings cognizant
thereof must have regarded with admiration, but that the
plans and purposes of God are entirely above the comprehension of Man,- that is plain prose.  Now let us see a poetic
statement of that same truth, and mark its immensely superior   vividness and force:
"Then the Lord answered Job out of a whirlwind, and said, -
Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?
Declare, if thou hast understanding!
Who hath laid the measures thereof? if thou knowest?
Or who hath stretched the line upon it?
Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened?
Or who laid the corner-stone thereof, When the morning stars sang together,
And all the sons of God shouted for joy?"
Or I am impelled to observe that the creations of the mind,
unlike all corporeal existences, are essentially indestructible,
and so fitted to abide and exert influence forever,- that is a
prosaic statement of an obvious fact; let us note how Byron
present it in poetry: —
"The beings of the mind are not of clay;
Essentially immortal, they create
And multiply in us a brighter ray,
And more beloved existence -that which Fate
Prohibits to dull life in this our state Of mortal bondage, by these spirits supplied
First exiles, then replaces, what we hate,
Watering the hearts whose early flowers have died,
And with a greener growth replenishing the void."
Or I observe that the midnight thunder, during a violent
Summer   tempest, is echoed from mountain-top to mountaintop, forming a chorus of awful sublimity; but the poet seizes
the thought, and fuses it in the glowing alembic of his numbers thus:
"Far along,
From crag to crag the rattling peaks among,
Leaps the live thunder,- not from one lone cloud,
But every mountain now hath found a tongue;
And Jura answers, through his misty shroud,
Back to the joyous Alps, that call to her aloud."
495 
MISCELL4NIES.
Such instances speak more clearly than the plainest or the
subtlest definitions. They show that, to the poetic conception, Nature is no  huge  aggregation of senseless  matter
warmed into fitful vitality by sunbeams only to die and be
resolved into its elements, but a living, conscious, vital universe, quivering with deathless aspiration because animated
by the breath of God.
Nor must we regard Poetry merely as an intellectual
achievement,  a trophy of human genius, an utterance from
the heart of Nature, fitted to solace its votaries and strengthen
them for the battle of Life. Poetry is essentially, inevitably,
the friend of Virtue and Merit, the foe of Oppression and
Wrong, the champion of Justice and Freedom. Wherever
the good suffer from the machinations and malevolence of the
evil,- wherever Vice riots, or Corruption festers, or Tyranny
afflicts and degrades, there Poetry is heard as an accusing
angel, and her breath sounds the trump of impending doom.
Sle cannot be suborned nor perverted to the service of the
powers of darkness: a Dante or a Korner, lured or bribed to
sing the praises of a despot, or glorify the achievements of an
Alva or a Cortes, could only stammer out feeble, halting stanzas, which mankind would first despise, then compassionately
forget. But to the patriot in his exile, the slave in his unjust
bondage, the martyr at the stake, the voice of Poetry comes
freighted with hope and cheer, giving assurance that, while
Evil is but for a moment, Good is for ever and ever; that all
the forces of the Universe are at last on the side of Justice;
that the seeming triumphs. of Iniquity are but a mirage,
Divinely permitted to test our virtue and our faith; and
that all things work together to.fulfil the counsels and establish the kingdom of the all-seeing and omnipotent God.
496 
REFORMS AND REFORMERS.
HIS hard, cold, rocky planet, on whose surface we exist,
toward whose centre we gravitate, seems to evince but
a rugged and wayward kindness for her step-child, Man.
Even to the savage, whom she takes to her rough breast with
some  show of maternal fondness, she says,  "Take your
chance with my varying moods, - to-day, sunshine, flowers,
and bounty; to-morrow, wintry blasts, bare hills, and destitution." What wonder if the poor Esquimaux, shivering in
his foodless lodge, which bleak wastes of drifting snow environ, should misread even the serenely benignant skies, and
fancy that diabolic was at least equally potent with Divine
agency in creating such a world?
To civilized man, unless fenced about and shielded by that
purely artificial creation we term Property, Nature presents a
still sterner aspect.   He  may know, even better than the
savage, how to extract sustenance and comfort from the eleme-nts everywhere surrounding. him; but he finds those elements appropriated,- monopolized,- tabooed,-  the private,
exclusive possessions of a minority. To cut in the forest a
dead, decaying tree, wherewith to warm his shivering, scarceclad limbs, -to dig edible roots from the swamp, or gather
berries from the beetling crag to stay his gnawing hunger,is.a trespass on the rights of some proprietor, property-owner,
landlord, which legally subjects him to the assiduous but disagreeable attentions of the justice and the constable. Doomed
to fight his way through this thorny jungle, he finds the weapons all chained out of his reach, or pointed against him.  Born
32 
. MIS CELLA-VIES.
into a state of war, he must first forge or buy the requisite implements for the fray, though his adversaries are under no sort
of obligation to wait till he is ready. The fertile prairie
often produces sour, ungenial grasses; and the giant forest, so
luxuriant in its panoply of tender foliage, affords but a
grudging subsistence to the few birds and animals which inhabit or traverse it.  Everywhere is presented the spectacle
of diverse species of animated beings struggling desperately
for subsistence, and often devouring each other for food.
Into this unchained menagerie Man is thrust, to fight his
way as best he can. The forest, the prairie, the mountain,
the valley, the lakes, and the ocean, must be tamed to hear
and heed his voice ere they can be relied on to satisfy his
urgent needs.  The river long obstructs his progress ere he
learns the secret of making it bear him swiftly and cheaply
on his course; the soil that shall ultimately yield him the
amplest harvests is a quaking bog, useless, and hardly passable, until he succeeds in drainilng and tilling it.  The lion or
tiger, whom he ultimately regards as a raree-show, and carts
about for his diversion, is primarily quite other than amusing, and, though exhibiting himself at less than the "half
price" at which children are elsewhere admitted to the spectacle, attracts no curious children of Adam to any exhibition
but that of their own heels.  The waterfall that propels the
civilizee's mill arrests the savage's canoe.  In short, Nature,
though complaisant at seasons, is yet, in the larger view,
grudging and stern toward our race, until transformed and
vivified by Labor and Science.
Man, therefore, is by primal necessity a Transformer,   in
other words, a Reformer. He must first, by resolute effort,
fix his bit in the mouth of Nature, his saddle on her back,
and his spurs in her sides, ere he is prepared to run his nobler race and achieve his higher destiny.   Though mental
development and moral culture be the admitted ends of his
mundane existence, yet to begin with the pursuit of these is
to court and insure defeat, by invoking frost and starvation.
If the philosopher or divine were to visit the pioneer just
498 
REFORlfS AND REFORMERS.
slashing together his log hut in the wilderness, and accost
him with, "Why wear out your life in such sordid, grovelling, material drudgery, when the gorgeous canopy of heaven
overarches you, the glad sun irradiates and warms you, and
all Nature, ministering gratuitously to your gross, bodily
wants, invites to meditation and elevating self-communion?"
the squatter's proper answer, should he deign to give any answer at all, would be: "Sir, I provide first for my bodily
needs, and against the fitful inclemencies of the now genial
skies, in order that I may by and by have leisure and opportunity for those loftier pursuits you eulogize so justly, though
inappositely. I could not fitly meditate on God, the Universe, and Human Destiny, with a shivering wife looking me
sadly in the face, nor with the cries of hungry children ringing in my ears. Nay: I could not so meditate this balmy
June morning, in full view of the truth that, if I were content with meditation to-day, such would be the appeals of
those dependent on me ere June should greet us again.
WI hat you suggest, then, is excellent in its time and place;
but I must hew and delve to-day, in order that my season for
contemplation and culture may ultimately come."
Now, this obvious response of the pioneer  to the philosopher is in essence the material or circumstantial Reformer's answer to the Stoic and the Saint.  "Wealth is dross;
Power is anxiety,   is care; Luxury enervates the body and
debases the soul," these remonstrate in chorus: "Know
thyself, and be truly wise; chasten your appetites, and be
rich in the moderation of your physical wants," adds the
Stoic;  "Know  God, and find happiness  in adoring  and
serving Him," echoes  the Saint.   "True, O' Plato! true,
divinest Cecilia! but everything in its order.   To render
fasting meritorious, one should have meat at command; and
great spiritual exaltation springs not naturally from a body
gaunt with enforced hunger. Let me surround myself with
what is needful for me and mine in the way of food, and
clothing, and shelter; not forgetting meantime the nobler
ends of my existence, but looking also to these; thus will I
499 
3iIISCELLANIES.
achieve for myself,Opportunity for that loftier plane of being
whereto you so justly invite me. I am not forgetting nor
disobeying the injunction to'Seek first the kingdom of God
and His righteousness"; I am only affirming that, until the
legitimate physical needs of those dependent on my exertions
are provided for, it would not be righteous in me to surrender
myself to contemplation, nor even to devotion." And this is
substantially thie answer of the RPeformer of Man's external
circumstances to those who insist that the end he meditates
is to be attained from within, rather than from without, -in
the apt phrase of Charles Lane, by improvement, not of this
or that circumstance, but of the vital centre-stance. We
readily admit this; but what then? The question still recurs,
"How  is the desired end to be attained?"  and we hold
that there is no practical cure for the vital woes of the
pitiable which does not involve a preliminary change in their
outward conditions. You may shower precepts and admonitions, tracts and Bibles, on the squalid, filthy, destitute
thlousands who tenant, thick as knotted adders, the cellars
and rookeries of our great cities, and all will run off them
like water from a duck's back, leaving them exactly as it
found them. But first take them out of these lairs and lazarhouses, wash them, clothe them decently, and place them
where they may, by honest, useful labor, earn a fair subsistence; now you may ply them with catechisms and exhortations with a rational hope of advantage. To attempt it sooner,
even with seeming success, is only to cover their filthiness
with a tenacious varnish of hypocrisy, rendering it less hateful to the eye, but more profound and ineradicable.
But not the Worker only - the robust, earnest Thinker
also - is of necessity a Radical. He sees his less fortunate
brethren oppressed and degraded, debased and enslaved,
through the malign influences of selfish Cunning and despotic
Force; and his very soul is stirred within him as was that of
Moses by the spectacle of his people's sufferings under the
rule of their Egyptian  taskmasters.   No  matter what is
the extent or nature of Man's abstract, inherent depravity,
500 
REFORMS AND REFORMERS.
he cannot fail to see that men are actually better or worse as
they have better or worse instructors, rulers, and institutions
Before condemning Human Nature as incorrigible, and thereupon justifying those who nevertheless contrive to make its
guidance and government a gainful trade, he inquires whether
this same abused Nature has not done better under other
auspices, and becomes satisfied that it has. Then he says to
the banded decriers of Human Nature and to the conservatives of old abuses who take shelter under their wing:
"You say that Man cannot walk erect; remove your bandages
from his feet, your shackles from his limbs, and let us see 
You say that he cannot take care of himself; then why compel him, in addition, to take such generous care of you?
You say he is naturally dishonest and thievish; but how
could he be otherwise, when he cannot fail to perceive that
you, who set yourselves up for his guides and exemplars, are
perpetually and enormously robbing him? Begin by giving
back to him the earth which you have taken from under
his feet, the knowledge you have monopolized, the privileges you have engrossed; and we  can better determine
whether he needs anything, and what, from your charity,
after he shall have recovered what is rightfully his own."
It is a fearful gift, this of moral prescience, -the ability
and the will to look straight into and through all traditions,
usages, beliefs, conventionalities, garnitures, and ask: What
is this for? What does it signify? If it were swept away,
what would be really lost to mankind? This baptism, or
whatever may be the appliance, - does it really cleanse?
Does it even tend to the desiderated result? or does it not
rather fortify with a varnish of hypocrisy and a crust of conceit the preexisting impurity and vice? Is there the old
unrighteousness left, with only self-righteousness superadded 2?
Well does a deep thinker speak of the spirit of reform as
walking up and down, "paving the world with eyes," - eyes
which not merely inquire and pierce, but challenge, accuse,
arraign also. Happily was the prophet of old named a seer;
for he who rightly and deeply sees thence foresees.   Your
501 
MISCELLANIES.
brawling demagogue is a very empty and harmless personage,
-"a voice, and nothing more "; but a silent, unimpassioned
thinker, though uttering only the most obvious and universal truths, sets the social caldron furiously seething and
bubbling. "Think not that I am come to send peace on
earth," says the Prince of Peace; "I am not come to send
peace, but a sword." All the rebels, conspirators, Messianic
impostors, of that turbulent age, were not half so formidable
to Judean conservatism, Rioman despotism, as the Sermon
on the Mount. And so in our day, a genuine, earnest reformer, no matter in what manger cradled, in what Shaker
garb invested, sets all things spinning and tilting around
him. 
The true Reformer turns his eyes first inward, scrutinizing
himself, his habits, purposes, efforts, enjoyments, asking,
What signifies this? and this? and wherein is its justification?  This daily provision of meat and drink, - is its end
nourishment and  its incident enjoyment? or are the poles
reversed, and do I eat and drink for the gratification of appetite, hoping, or trusting, or blindly guessing, that, since it satiates my desires, it must satisfy also my needs? Is it requisite that all the zones and continents should be ransacked to
build up the fleeting  earthly tabernacle  of this immortal
spirit? Is not the soul rather submerged, stifled, drowned,
in this incessant idolizing, feasting, pampering of the body?
These sumptuous entertainments, wherein the palate has
everything, the soul nothing,-  what faculty, whether of body
or mind, do they brighten or strengthen? Why should a
score of animals render up'their lives to furnish forth my
day's dinner, if my own life is thereby rendered neither surer
nor nobler? Why gorge myself with dainties which cloud
the brain and clog the step, if the common grains and fruits
and roots and water afford precisely the same sustenance in
simpler and less cloying guise, and are far more conducive to
health, strength, elasticity, longevity?  Can a man worthily
surrender his life to the mere acquiring and absorbing of
food, thus alternating only from the state of a beast of burden
502 
REFORMllS AND REFOR,IERS.R.
to that of a beast of prey? Above all, why should I fire my
blood and sear miy brain with liquors which give a temporary
exhilaration to the spirits at the cost of permanent depravation and disorder to the whole physical frame?  In short,
why should I live for and in my appetites, if these were Divinely created to serve and sustain, not master and dethrone,
the spirit to which this earthly frame is but a husk, a tent, a
halting-place, in an exalted, deathless career?  If the life be
indeed more than meat, why shall not the meat recognize and
attest that fact? And thus the sincere Pteformer, in the very
outset of his course, becomes a "tee-total" fanatic, represented by the knavish and regarded by the vulgar as a foe to
all enjoyment and cheer, insisting that mankind shall conform to his crotchets, and live on bran-bread and blue cold
water.
Turning his eyes away from himself, he scans the relations
of man with man, under which labor is performed and service
securtd, and finds, not absolute Justice, much less Love, but
Necessity on the one hand, Advantage on the other, presiding
over the general interchange of good offices among mankind.
In the market, on the exchange, we meet no recognition of
the brothlerhlood of the human race. A famine in one country is a godsend to the grain-growers and flour-speculators of
another.  An excess of immigration enhances the cost of food
while depressing the wages of labor, adding in both ways to
the wealth of the forehanded, who find their only drawback
in the increased' burdens of pauperism. Thus the mansion
and the hovel rise side by side, and where sheriffs are abundant is hanging most frequent.  One man's necessity being
another's opportunity, we have no right to be surprised or indi,,gnant that the general system culminates, by an inexorably
* logical process, in the existence and stubborn maintenance of
iHuman Slavery.
Yes, I insist that Slavery is a logical deduction from principic3 genera.lly accepted, and almost universally accounted
sound and laudable.   For, once admit the premises that I
503 
MISCELLANIES.
have a right to seek profit from my neig,hbor's privations and
calamities; that I have a right to consume in idleness the
products or earnings of half a dozen workers, if my income
will justify the outlay; and that it is better to live indo lently on others' earnings than industriously from the pro  ceeds of my own, - and the rightfulness of Slavery is a log ical deduction, as plain as that two and two make four.
Hence the gambler, the swindler, the pander for gain to oth ers' vices, is always pro-Slavery, or is only withheld from
that side by fear of being himself enslaved.  You would not
on three continents find a pirate or gaming-house bully who
would not gladly tramp five miles on a dark, stormy night, to
help lynch an Abolitionist. And thus not only have all Re forms a sympathetic, even if ill-understood, relationship, but
the enemties of reforms are united by a free-masonry equally
potent and comprehensive.  The negro-trader of Charleston
or New Orleans would always help to mob a Temperance lec turer, even though he did not himself drink; for he hated
and.dreaded the application of ethical laws to practical life.
This particular reform did not interfere with his pursuits or
his gains; but he felt instinctively that all other reforms were
just behind it, -that they were peering over its shoulder,
and ready to rush in if this one succeeded in opening the
door. So he put his shoulder against it, and held fast, - not
that he objected specially to this, but that he would make
seasonable resistance to the crowd that came trooping in its
train.
It was very common, of old, for the members of diverse
parties and sects to protest that they were not Abolitionists,
a most superfluous assurance.  Essentially, radically, there
are just so many Abolitionists as comprehend that it is better for themselves, better also for their children, to earn their
subsistence by fair, honest service to their kind, than to have
it supplied them for nothing. He only is truly, inflexibly
an Abolitionist who realizes that the faculty of producing or
earning bread is as much an element of man's happiness as
the ability to consume and relish it. He who idly wishes
504 
REFORMS AND REFORMERS.
that Providence had made him heir of a fortune, so that he
might have fared sumptuously and lived idly, might just as
well sigh outright for John Mitchell's coveted Alabama plantation and fat negroes.
Whether it shall ever be found practicable to substitute a
more trustful and beneficent social order for that which now
prevails, the scepticsare fully justified in  doubting.  So
many experiments - fairly tried, so far as they can seehave resulted in so many failures, that they quite rationally
conclude that the Fanmily is the only, or at least the highest,
social organization whereof poor, depraved human nature is
capable. It is all very well, they fairly say, to talk of the
great economies of some theoretic social system,- how much
could be saved in fences and fuel, stowage and lights, production and distribution, by uniiting five hundred families in one
household, on a common domain, rather than scattering them
over twice as many acres or twenty-score farms; but, since
it is proved that families cannot or will not live and labor in
this way, what use in commendiing it?  You might as well
talk of the superior pavement of the New Jerusalem seen
in St. John's vision to that of Broadway or Chestnut Street,
and insist that our cities shall henceforth use the former
exclusively.
There is much force in this view; but there is more
force in one higher and nobler. It is true that men and
women educated in the selfish isolation and antagonism of
our current households are not qualified-  at least, the great
mass of them are not - for any better form of society.  It
is true that this knowledge has been attained through years
of patient exertion and sacrifice,- attained by earnest,
ardent, self-denying men and women, who would have given
their lives to perfect conclusively a contrary demonstration.
And, though it is truly urged that these demonstrations were
made under very imperfect and unfavorable circumstances,
it is equally true that they were the most favorable that
could be, and better than can now be, obtained.
We stand, then, in the presence of this state of facts:
505
1 
MISCELLANIES.
On the one hand, it is proved difficult to create and maintain a more trustful and harmonious social structure out of
such materials as the old social machinery has formed,
or rather, we may say practically, out of such materials as the
old machinery has expelled and rejected; yet we know, on
the other hand, that a more - yes, I will say it - Christian
Social Order is not impossible.   For it is more than half
a century since the first associations of the gentle ascetics
contemptuously termed Shakers were formed; and no one
will pretend that they have failed.  No: they have steadily
and eminently expanded and increased in wealth, and every
element of material prosperity, until they are at this day just
objects of envy to their neighbors. They produce no paupers;
they excrete no beggars; they have no idlers, rich or poor;
no purse-proud nabobs, no cringing slaves.  So far are they
from pecuniary failure, that they alone have known no such
word as fail since, amid poverty and odium, they laid the
foundations of their social edifice, and inscribed ".Holiness to
the Lord" above their gates. They may not have attempted
the highest nor the wisest achievement; but what they
attempted they have accomplished.  And, if there were no10
other success akin to theirs, -  but there is, - it would still
be a demonstrated truth that men and women can live and
labor for general, not selfish, good, - can banish pauperism,
servitude, and idleness, and secure general thrift and plenty,
by moderate cooperative labor and a complete identity of
interests. Of this truth, each year offers added demonstrations; but, if all were to cease to-morrow, the fact that it had
beyn proved would remain.   Perhaps no Plato, no  Scipio,
no Columbus, no Milton, now exists; but the capacity of the
Race is still measured and assured by the great men and
great deeds that have been. Man can work for his brother's
good as well as his own: an unbroken, triumphant experience
of half a century has established the fact, so that fifty centuries of contrary experience would not disprove it.
But wve are not required to prove the capacity, the adlaptability, of Man to a social accord so extreme as Communism.
506 
REFORMS AND REFORMERS.,
The practicability of this involves that of every social reconstruction less radical, just as a bushel of grain contains every
lesser measure thereof; but the truth of the reverse does not
follow. A bank on which every human being, or even every
stockholder, might fill up and draw checks at discretion,
would soon be broken; but it does not follow that a wellmanaged joint-stock bank must inevitably fail.   Man may
yet, in far distant ages, become wise enough, good enough, to
realize that Labor is needful to him as food, and that frugality and temperance are essential to long life and sustained
enjoyment.  But, far this side of that, he may become convinced that he wars on himself in seeking a selfish good, and
that only in conjunction with others' happiness can his own
be secured. It needs not that he be willing to share his earnings with others, in order that he may realize that every involunitary idler saps the general well-being,, and that it is the
interest of each to see that there is work and fair recompense
for all.
I write in sad and chill November. The skies are sullen
and weeping; the ground is reeling mire; and the fierce
northwester lingers just behind the Highlands, ready to rush
upon the tattered and thlin-clad like a pack of famished
wolves.  Adown the street pace crowds of weary seekers,
seekers once of fame, perhaps, or power, or wealth; but now
of food and raiment, -of work and wages.  The shop-windows and doors are choked with ship-loads of wares adapted
to their urgent physical needs, - everything requisite to eat,
and burn, and wear. All these were produced by labor; and
the needy are most willing to give labor in exchange for them.
The owners, on the other hand, want to sell them, - bought
them for that purpose, and must break if the end is not
attained.  Yet here the two classes stand facing, eyeing each
other, - a thin plate of glass dividing them, - the man within anxious to sell, and he without eager to buy, -yet some
malignant spell seems to keep them still blankly, helplessly
staring at each other. Perhaps a mere combination of the
hungry, thin-clad thousands who wishfully, fruitlessly gaze
507 
MISCELLANIES.
into those windows, would secure the desired result; for here
are persons of all kinds as well as grades of ability anxiously
seeking work,- that is, seeking opportunity to coin their own
exertions into the bread and clothes and shelter they so pressingly need.  Say there is no work for them, and their own
hunger and rags give you the lie: they themselves collectively afford that very market for their labor for want of which
they severally shiver and famish. But the carpenter cannot
live on timber, even if he had it; he cannot even build himself the dwelling for want of which his children shiver in
some damp basement; and thus the seedy tailor grows daily
more ragged, and the unemployed shoemaker despairingly
sees his own feet come more and more fully in contact with
the frosty, flinty pavement; while the seamstress out of work
creeps to her bare garret and prays God that starvation, rather
than infamy, may end her long battle, now so nearly lost, for
the coarsest and scantiest bread.   Legislators! philanthropists! statesmen! there must be some way out of this social
labyrinth; for God is good, and has not created men and women to starve for want of work. The precept "Six days shalt
thou labor" implies and predicts work for all; where is it?
and what shall supply it? If you cannot or will not solve
this problem, at least do not defame or impede those who
earnestly seek its solution!
The great, the all-embracing Reform of our age is therefore
the SOCIAL Reform,- that which seeks to lift the Laboring
Class, as such,- not out of labor, by any means,- but out of
ignorance, inefficiency, dependence, and want, and place them
in a position of partnership and recognized mutual helpfulness with the suppliers of the Capital which they render
fruitful and efficient. It is easily said that this is the case
now; but, practically, the fact is otherwise. The man who
has only labor to barter for wages or bread looks up to the
buyer of his sole commodity as a benefactor; the master and
journeyman, farmer and hired man, lender and borrower,
mistress and servant, do not stand on a recognized footing of
reciprocal benefaction.   True, self-interest is the acknowl
508 
REFOR.lS AND REFORmIIERS.
edged impulse of either party; the lender, the employer,
parts with his money only to increase it, and so, it would
seem, is entitled to prompt payment or faithful service,
not, specially, to gratitude. He who pays a bushel of fair
wheat for a day's work at sowing for next year's harvest has
simply exchanged a modicum of his property for other property, to him of greater value; and so has no sort of claim to
an unreciprocated obeisance from the other party to the bargain. But so long as there shall be ten who would gladly
borrow to one disposed and able to lend, and many more
anxious to be hired than others able and willing to employ
them, there always will be a natural eagerness Of competition
for loans, advances, employment, and a resulting deference of
borrower to lender, employed to employer. He. who may
hire or not, as to him shall seem profitable, is independent;
while he who must be hired or starve exists at others' mercy.
Not till Society shall be so adjusted, so organized, that whoever is willing to work shall assuredly ha,e work, and fair
recompense for doing it, as readily as he who has gold may
exchange it for more portable notes, will the laborer be placed
on a footing of justice and rightful independence. Hie who
is able and willing to give work for bread is not essentially a
pauper; he does not desire to abstract without recompense
from the aggregate of the world's goods and chattels; he is
not rightfully a beggar.  WVihing only to convert his own
muscular energy into bread, it is not merely his but every
man's interest that the opportunity should be afforded him,
-nay, it is the clear duty of Society to render such exchange at all times practicable and convenient.
A community or little world wherein all freely serve and
all are amply served,- wherein each works according to his
tastes or needs, and is paid for all he does or brings to pass,
- wherein education is free and common as air and sunshine,
- wherein drones and sensualists cannot abide the social
atmosphere, but are expelled by a quiet, wholesome fermentation, -wherein humbugs and charlatans necessarily find
509 
MHISCELLANlVIES.
their level, and nought but actual service, tested by the
severest ordeals, can secure approbation, and none but sterling
qualities win esteem,- such is the ideal world of the Socialist.  Grant that it is but a dream, - and such, as yet, it for the
most part has been, - it by no means follows that it has no
practical value. On the contrary, an ideal, an illusion, if a
noble one, has often been the inspirer of grand and beneficent
efforts.  Moses was fated never to elnter the Land of Promise
he so longingly viewed from afar; and Columbus never found
-  who can now wish that he had? -  that unimmpeded searoute westward to India that he sought so wisely and so
daringly. Yet still the world moves on, and by mysterious
and unexpected ways the great, brave soul is permitted to
subserve the benignant purposes of God contemplating the
elevation and blessing of Man. And so, I cannot doubt, the
unselfish efforts in our day for the melioration of social hardships, though their methods may be rejected as mistaken or
defective, will yet signally conduce to their contemplated
ends.  Fail not, then, humble hoper for "the Good Time
Coming," to lend your feeble sigh to swell the sails of whatever
bark is freighted with earnest efforts for the mitigation of
human woes, nor doubt that the Divine breath shall waft it
at last to its prayed-for haven.!
Time will not suffice to speak fully of the efforts, but yesterday so earnest and active, now so languid and unapparent,
for the abolitidn of the legal penalty of Death.  Perhaps this
effort has already succeeded so far as it was best it should
succeed at present,-  that is, so far that some States in the
West, as others in the East, have absolutely, and  others
virtually, abolished the Death Penalty. If we could now
forget the whole subject for ten years, we might, at the close
of that period, compare carefully and searchingly the prevalence of capital crime in the States respectively which have
abolished and. those which have retained the Gallows, and
strike an instructive balance between them.   For the present,
let it suffice that no one appears now to be seriously contend
510 
REFORMS AND REFORMERS.
ing that life is less safe or crime more prevalent in the States
which destroy no human lives than in others.  And, when
Society shall for a generation have set a consistent example
of reverencing the inviolability of this life, regarding it as a
sacred gift from God, which He only may warrantably take
away, -we may rationally hope that the example will not
be lost, even on those constitutionally prone to outrage,
violence, and crime.
Nay, let me venture one more suggestion. The nations,
races, ages, most advanced in civilization and knowledge have
ever been most reluctant to quench the light of life. Despots
and oligarchies have mowed down men by wholesale, where
republics and popular governments have generally been forbearing and humane. Every trial of popular sovereignty in
Europe has been attended or followed by a mitigation or
diminution of sanguinary penalties; and the glorious uprising
of'48 would ere this have nearly dismissed the hangman or
headsman from the public service, if Royal treachery, courtly
conspiracy, and popular levity had not crushed it. And now,
in the heyday of Reaction, we hear from time to time of one
despot after another, having recovered his throne and his
presence of mind, reestablishing or reinvigorating the Gallows.
I rejoice in the hope that the progress of Christianity, civilization, and liberty, will yet drive it altogether from the
earth.
I will barely glance at the great problem of Educational
Reform, - of the blending of Labor with Study, so as to preserve health of body and vigorous activity of mind, enable
the student nearly or quite to work his way through academy
and college, and send him out better qualified to wrestle with
adversity, instruct the uneducated, and maintain a healthful
independence, than he otherwise could be. Not to argue or
commend, but simply to state the position of the PReformers,
shall be the point of my aim.
The old division of mankind into a numerous, unlearned,
or working, and a thinly sown but powerful thinking, di
511 
MISCELLANIES.
recting, educated, governing class, is no longer possible, save
in approximation. The principle underlying the Brahminical
system of caste is alien to our laws and our intellectual condition. The masses have at least a smattering of knowledge,
and more than a shadow of power. They may be educated
badly, imperfectly, superficially; they will never again consent to be not educated at all. Ever-increasing millions will
be spent on their instruction: shall they thereby be taught
what they need to know, or what is adapted to other needs
than theirs? An argument will hardly be necessary to show
that the training required to make an able and efficient doctor, lawyer, or clergyman, is not that which is essential to the
development of a capable and well-informed farmer, mechanic, or civil engineer. Nobody contends that the routine
of our colleges is that which is best calculated to fit a youth
for eminence as a military or naval commander: why, then,
should it be deemed appropriate for our embryo captains of
industry? None are more apt to inveigh against the shallowness or quackery of our current applications of science to
agriculture, than they who bar the way to our advance to the
acquisition of a science of agriculture which shall be neither
shallow nor empirical.
The time when to know how to read was proof presumptive of an education for the priesthood can never be recalled.
The supposition that methodized knowledge is not as important to the cultivator as to the clergyman is no longer entertained.  No wise champion of classical education to-day
sadly or sneeringly inquires, with the Apocryphal writer of
Ecclesiasticus, "How can he get wisdom that holdeth the
plough, that glorieth in the goad, that driveth oxen, and is occupied with the care of bullocks?"  The spirit that dictated
those questions may still linger in some cloistral recesses,
some sepulchral caverns, but it no longer stalks abroad outspoken and defiant. It is in our age a thing of night, and
must vanish with the dawning of the day.
Well, then: we need and must have a system of higher
education which recognizes the truth that Man is by nature a
512 
REFORMS AND REFORMERS.
worker,-  a fashioner and ruler of matter,- that to be industrious is dictated to him by a beneficent law of his being, and
that daily muscular as well as mental effort is among the conditions of his healthful and joyful existence. We need an
education which recognizes that God has placed men on earth
that they may work, and that every attempt to escape this
destiny parallels the original offence of Jonah, and subjects
the offender to calamities like to his. We need an education
which shall not only regard as an end the forming of more
instructed and efficient farmers and artisans than we now
have, but the ultimate training of the great mass of our youth
to degrees of skill in the choice and use of implements hitherto unknown. To this end, we must have seminaries which
not merely provide work for'their pupils, but require it inflexibly from.all, -which educate the head and the hand together, each to be the ally and the complement of the other;
which shall teach our aspiring youth, not only how to do better than their fathers did in every field of blended intellect
ual anl industrial effort, but why this way is better than any
other, and in what direction further improvement is to be
made. Thus, and thus only, may we expect to elevate our
industrial pursuits to that position which they are justly entitled to hold, and render them attractive to our aspiring and
noble youth.  Every useful vocation is respected in proportion to the measure of intellect it requires and rewards, and
never can rise above this level. You may eulogize the Dignity of Labor till doomsday, without making a boot-blaclek's
calling as honorable as that of an engineer or a draughtsman;
and, so long as an ignorant and stupid boor shall be esteemed
wise enough, learned enough, for a competent farmer or mechanic, all spread-eagle glorification of Manual Labor will be
demagogue cant and office-seeking hypocrisy. Only through
a truer and nobler education can the working masses ever
attain the position and the respect which the genius of our
institutions predicts and requires for them. And that Education has yet its seminaries to found and its professors to train
or discover.
83
513
i
i,
I
I.
i
i
I
i 
I MISCELLANIES.
But I must not dwell longer on special Reform movements,
though many others challenge our attention. If the few
bricks taken almost at random give any fair idea of the
character and proportions of the edifice, you will thence perceive,- what many of you, doubtless, have not waited till now
to learn,- that what the Reform Spirit of our age labors primarily and generally to establish is the equality of Human
Rights, regardless of all disparities of strength, or knowledge,
or caste, or creed, or color,- an equality based on the allembracing moral obligation to consecrate every faculty, every
impulse, to the highest good of Humanity. Through all its
selfishness, rapacity, folly, and sin, the Genius of our Age
speaks to us in tones which the discerning hear and the
thoughtful heed; and the burden of its message runs thus:
"It is nobler and better to teach the child than to hang the
man; -it is wiser to remove temptation from the path. of
the weak than to punish them because they have stumbled
and fallen, - easier to find the vagrant orphan a home, and
teach him a trade, than to watch him as a rogue and punish
him as a thief, - cheaper and better for Society to find
work for all who need and seek it than to support the
needy in idleness as paupers, vagrants, or criminals,- nobler
to warn than to doom, -more godlike to lift up than to
crush down,-and far safer to be surrounded and shielded by gratitude and love than to be walled in with batteries and hedged about by spears." Thus testifies the age of
Steam-Presses, Railroads, and Lightning Telegraphs to Statesmen, Legislators, and Rulers; when shall it be fully understood and heeded?
But I have proposed to speak, not only of Reforms, but'of
Reformers, - a theme somewhat less grand and inspiring.
For, indeed, the contrast between the work proposed and the
man who proposes and undertakes it is often so broad as to
partake of the ludicrous. I have met several in my day who
were quite confident of their ability to correct Euclid's
Geometry or upset Newton's theory of Gravitation; but I
514 
REFORMIS AND REFORMERS.
doubt whether one of them could have earned or borrowed
two hundred dollars in the course of a year, and nothing
stumps an average Reformer of things in general so completely as to be asked to settle his board-bill. I can guess with
what awed apprehension the green disciple comes up from
some rural hamlet or out-of-the-way village to the metropolis,
there to meet for the first time the oracle of some great mnovement for the regeneration of the world, whose writings he
has devoured with wondering admiration; and with what
blank surprise he finds himself introduced, at some clubhouse or restaurant, to said oracle,- a spindling, chattering,
personally insignificant entity, who discourses volubly and
disjointedly of the times, the crops, and the weather; and
never even blunders on a pithy saying, unless when, in the
fervor of good fellowsliip, he orders "Pork Chops for two."
But it were hardly fair to ride down Reformers in a body, as
a brigade of heavy cavalry might sweep over a pulk of Cossacks  let us analyze the mass with searching and patient
discrlimination.
The first or lowest class among them I take to be the
enviouvs. The wide disparity between most men's estimate of
themselves respectively, and their neighbors' valuation of the
very same article, has been abundantly observed The number who suppose themselves enormously underrated in the
world's opinion is very great; and each believes that he would
have long since acquired a fortune or achieved eminence if he
had only passed current for all he was worth. The ambitious
and conceited, thus stamped in the mint of Society at what
they consider a ruinous depreciation, are naturally rebels
against the authority which thus disranks and degrades
them, -they know that'the Social edifice is wrong end up,
from the fact that they are so near the bottom of it.  And thus
thousands fancy themselves Reforminers, while their real objection to the world as it is relates not at all to the fashion
of the structure, but solely to their own place in it.
Akin to this class is that of the devotees of Sensual Appe
41
515 
PIISCF~LLANIES.
tite, whose prospective millennium is a period of general
license, wherein everybody may do with impunity whatsoever
his desires may prompt,- or, at least, they may. This class
sees the Social world so covered, fettered, interpenetrated, by
laws, customs, beliefs, which plant themselves firmly across
thle path whereon its members are severally pressing forward
to the gratification of every impulse, that it is plain that
either Society is or they are sadly in the wrong; and imperious Appetite forbids the conclusion that they are.  If the
world as it is would only concede them wealth without industry, enjoyment without obedience, respect without virtue,
it would be as good a world now as they could ask for; but
since it will not (indeed, cannot) do thus, they make desperate fight against it, just as a vicious and indiscreet bull, it is
said, will sometimes butt heads with a locomotive. Byron
speaks to us out of the heart of this class, and so forcibly
that his statement will hardly be improved. The diction of
this school is often nervous; its logic invincible, if only its
premises be granted; and its rhetoric really fascinating to
those who are in the heyday of youth and its passions; but
the understanding is only clouded, it is not convinced, by
the inculcations thus incited, and the cooling of the blood
gives conscience an opportunity to reassert her long-ignored
sovereignty.  The  free songs, so deliciously warbled land
heartily delighted in by bachelor Little, become a scandal and
a nuisance to respectable Mr. Thomas Moore, husband of a
worthy wife, and father of piano-playing daughters; and thus
Social Order, without directly replying to the sophistries or
resisting the vagaries of her revolting sos, awaits patiently
the inevitable hour when they shall voluntarily kneel at her
feet to abjure their treason, beg her forgiveness, and seek
absolution.
I think there is a small class whom mere force of will, or,
rather, a spirit of antagonism, impels into the service of Reform. These mark how unequal is the battle ever waged
between the contending hosts, and are prompted by a chivalrous sentiment to couch a lance on the weaker side. They
516 
REFORMS AND REFORMERS.
see how royalties, hierarchies, aristocracies, bourgeoises, all
support each other and overbear the opposing array,- how
the victory so grandly won by Radicalism to-day only results
at last in widening the base and increasing the power of Conservatism; and they mentally say, "Here goes for the side
which must triumph, if at all, against immense odds, yet can
never enjoy the fruits of a victory!" - and so rush in, to be
cut down, thrust back, or metamorphosed, as chance or Providence may determine.
For indeed the argument for Conservatism is intrinsically
so strong, that only the maddest unwisdom, the most preposterous displays of selfishness, on the part of its champions,
could possibly overthrow it.  No monarchy was ever undermined or overturned except through some monarch's own
blunders or crimes, and none ever will be. If ever man of
wealth were so timorous as to fear that the houseless, shivering wretches in the streets would eject the possessors of
stately, comfortable mansions, and sit down securely in their
places,'he evinced a want of sagacity at least equal to his
want of nerve. If a city could be sacked by its desperate
denizens, the first set who effected a lodgement in its palaces
would make haste to shoot the residue of the rabble horde
for their own security, and so would weaken themselves beyond the possibility of maintaining their dizzy altitude
Radicalism is the tornado, the earthquake, which comes, acts,
and is gone for a century; Conservatism is the granite, which
may be chipped away here or there to build a new house, or
let a railroad pass, but which will substantially abide forever.
The argument for Conservatism appeals resistlessly to all
who have good digestive organs which they cherish, with
anything satisfactory whereon to employ them. The natural
presumption that whatever has stood the shocks and mutations of centuries is deeply grounded in Nature and the Divine
purpose, is wellnigh invincible.  "I grant you," says  the
Conservative, "that many things seem rather out of tune;
but what then?  Is it  ty duty to upset what so many
great and good men have left untouched, and some of them
517 
MISCELLANIES.
have expressly commended? That the world is full of
ignorance and wrong, crime and woe, is very true; but I
cannot help that; and it will do no good to shed gallons of
tears over it, and try to put others into mourning. No: let
us take things as we find them; relieve distress when we
can afford it, and float along as nearly with the current as
will answer. Bad as the world is, a man with good fortune,
(which includes health,) a reasonable self-control, a tolerably
clear conscience, a well-filled store-house, and a fair balance
with his banker, may extract a good deal of enjoyment from
it, if he will wisely improve his opportunities, and not insist on making himself miserable by dabbling too deeply in
the miseries of others." Millions live all of this, who  do
not say more than half of it.
Perhaps one of the most instructive spectacles is that of
the impulsive young Radical undergoing a gradual transformation, or cooling off, into a staid, respectable ConservatiVe, with property to care for, a position to maintain, and a
reputation to cherish. He was honest of yore, and is honest
(as the world goes) now; but circumstances alter cases.
When he declaimed against the monopoly or aggregation of
lands, he had none of his own;  but he has since become
"seized," as the lawyers say, of a snug estate, and he would
not like to have any one seize it away from him. It may be
larger than one man absolutely needs; but he wants to improve it, and it will cut up nicely among his rather numerous
children or nephews. So he builds him an elegant mansion,
surrounds and fills it with evidences of taste and ministers to
luxury, and sits down to contemplate matters in general more
calmly and philosophically than he did in his impulsive,
headlong youth. And the great world without takes on a
very different aspect when viewed through his elegant shrubbery, adown his velvet lawn, and colored rosily by the bumper
of generous juice which often gets between his eyes and the
distant prospect, from that it wore when viewed with naked
optics, or with only a cup of crystal water between him
518 
REFORMS AND REFORMERS.
and the sun.  "Yes," he says, slowly and languidly, "there
is need of Reform; but let it be effected prudently and decorously. These modern Radicals are different from those of my
young days: they are rash, reckless, destructive, infidel; I
can have no sympathy, no fellowship, with such." True, O
Plutus! you can have none.  But "prudently," did you say,
sir?  Ah no! Reforms of any depth will never be urged
prudently and cautiously; for, if their advocates were prudent, they would not be Reformers at all. Very likely,
Prudence may step in at the opportune moment, and mediate
successfully between heedless Innovation and stubborn RPeaction; but to wait for Prudence to impel a Reform is to wait
for Death to originate Life.
And, indeed, the embarrassment of headlong allies is one
of the chief sorrows of the Reformer's lot. He can never
say "'A " without some one else following with a "B" which
he is sure does not belong to the same alphabet; but this the
other as confidently denies; and the whole Conservative party
backs the latter with all its force. Luther's career was perpetually made thorny by this sort of unwelcome allies, and
Bossuet knew exactly from what armory to draw the most
deadly shafts to hurl against the advancing hosts of the
Reformation.  "If you assert this, how will you defend your
position against him who will manifestly assert that? If you
put the Bible above the Church, how answer him who puts
Reason above the Bible?  If you insist that every man shall
be allowed to vote, how resist the demand that every woman
be equally enfranchised? If you repudiate vindicteive punishments, how justify punishment at all?"  I think it was
Brougham who observed, that there never yet was a Reform
proposed that might not have been defeated by giving adequate weight to the question, "If you go so far, why  not
farther?  If this be right, is not more equally right?  And
where can you consistently stop?"  And thus many a fiery
Radical has been cooled down into placid (or acrid) Conservatism, by discovering that the character of his associates,
519 
MISCELLANIES.
the tendency of their doctrines, the ends which they contemplated, were such as he could never approve.
I presume there are not many Reformers worthy of the
designation who ever anticipated fame or wealth as a result
of their labors in the cause of Humanity. Yet I recollect
an application once made to me by a particularly green
youth, who wished employment as a writer or journalist,
urging as an inducement that he thought he could indite
some forcible essay in favor of the Reforms wherein I was
deeply interested. "My friend," I felt constrained to reply,
"I can very easily write myself quite as much in favor of
those Reforms as the public will bear; another such hand at
the bellows would ruin me." Conservatism has many faults,
but it is a good paymaster; while Radicalism is constitutionally out at the elbows, and may toss you its purse with ever
so lordly an air, but all you take by the motion is a poor sixpenny worth of dried eelskin.  True, now and then a Peforaer lives to fight out his special battle, and secure the
hard-won triumph of his well-directed, persistent effort. But
by. this time Conservatism has taken the bantling into her
snug house, there to fondle and cherish it as her own; while
Radicalism has swept on to new efforts, new struggles, perhaps ultimately new triumphs: so the forlorn Reformer
stands shivering at  the remorseless door which  has  engulfed his darling; he cannot hope to overtake the rushing
host, which is now far on its eager way, and indeed he has
no heart for the attempt; so he commonly ends by begging
admittance into the mansion, and the privilege of now and
then fondling the baby, which coolly eyes the queer, old,
seedy codger, and wonders how he ever wormed his way into
the hallowed precincts of PRespectability and Elegance. He
says nothing, for his heart is too full; but gathers up his
tattered garments and dies, looking fondly, sadly, on that cold,
averted face to the last.
To the earnest, true Reformer, life is indeed no holiday
520 
REFORMS AND REFORMllERS.
feast, and earth no Eden garnished with singing-birds and
flowers. The most sanguine, buoyant soul, once fairly entered on this career, is not long in learning how much
stronger is old Adam than young Melancthon. Not merely
that his bread is apt to be coarse and his couch somewhat
rugged, - he was prepared for this, - but the intractability
of ignorance, the stubbornness of prejudice, the thanklessness
of those arrested in a downhill career, the inefficiency of
effort, and "the heart-sickness of hope deferred," are indeed
appalling. Doubting, irresolute Hamlet may well be distracted, not so much by the fact that "the times are out of
joint," as that he seems to have been "born to set things
right." For the moral dangers of the Reformer's calling are
even more disheartening than its pecuniary discouragements.
"Do you know," said a broken-down ex-lecturer for Temperance, Anti-Slavery, &c., &c., once to me, in a tone and with a
look of deep meaning, "that there is no life so unhcalthy as
that of a popular agitator?"   The  "patriot to a brewery"
may even enjoy it; but for the proud, shy, home-bred man,
who would rather see the smile on the face of the loved one
than be the'subject of a civic ovation, and rather hear the
idle prattle of his babes than the shouts of clustered thousands responsive to his burning words, it is a cold, stern life
that he leads; and he labors under constant apprehensions
that, while he is striving to diffuse sentiments of benignity,
generosity, and mercy, the milk of human kindness, by reason of those very efforts, is slowly drying up in his own
breast, and he, while still struggling earnestly, though somewhat mechanically, to redeem the human race, is- coming
gradually to dislike and despise them.
The most striking, perhaps the only general, tribute ever
paid to the position and merits of the true Reformer is that
embodied in the universal jeer and shout which announces
the exposure of the fallen aspirant or false pretender. As
there was never a villain who did not hail with hearty exultation the exposure of a priest's lechery or a moralist's
521 
MISCELLANIES.
knavery, so the lazy, sensual, luxury-loving, money-grasping
million enjoy nothing more keenly than the tidings that one
who has reproved their selfishness and made them uncomnfortable by his projects of social melioration or homilies on
human brotherhood has at length been tempted into sin, or
turned inside out by some casual revelation, and proved as
selfish and venal as themselves.  As the news is rapidly disseminated, the face of sensualism and self-seeking broadens
into one universal grin,- peal after peal of "unextinguished
laughter"  disturbs the serenity of the  atmosphere,- you
might suspect from hearing it that everybody's uncle had
died, and left him heir to a bounteous fortune. The grandest
Hebrew prophet, looking on such a spectacle, might forcibly
say, as of old: "Hell from beneath is stirred up to meet
thee; it stirreth up its denizens to inquire exultingly,'Art
thou also become as one of us?"'   And thus the Reformer
who, while he stood erect, seemed beneath the meanest,more hated, reviled, and despised, - shall prove by his fall
that he was dreaded, and really honored, as well; that the
devils contemplated his efforts in the spirit which believes
and trembles; that those who most defamed and misrepresented, yet secretly respected and wished themselves virtuous
enough to be almost, if not altogether, such as he. And thus
a career which in its progress seemed despised and reprobated shall yet in its defeat and ruin prove to have been
really admired and honored, even by those who lacked virtue
to imitate or even commend it.
Yet this shout from the nethermost hades is by no means
justified by the fact on which it is based. Men are often
weak and fallible in action, even though their intellectual
perception of the right is of the deepest and clearest. Bacon's philosophy is sound and valuable, though Bacon was a
corrupt chancellor, a bribed judge. The earth does move, in
accordance with Galileo's hypothesis, though Galileo himself
was induced by ghostly fulminations and personal perils to
recant it. Peter might have denied and blasphemed till
doomsday without belittling or confounding that salvation of
522
'k 
REFORMS AND REFORMERS.
which he had been chosen a witness and an apostle. Few
men are equal in their daily lives to the moral altitude of
their highest perceptions; and all the confessors and martyrs
might apostatize, and heap shame on their own heads, without detracting one iota from the worth of philanthropy or
Christianity.  Man is a reed which the slightest breeze deflects, the feeblest step prostrates; but Truth is adamant and
eternal.
Yes, it is a great thing to be truly a Reformer, even one
misinterpreted and scorned through life, as what genuine
Reformer ever failed to be.  The tombs of the dead prophets
are built only of the stones hurled at them while living; and
thus may we accurately measure the greatness of their daring,
the force and truth of their unprecedented utterances. To
speak firmly the word destined ultimately to heal Man's deadliest maladies, yet certain instantly to evoke his direst curses
- this is a heroism whereof no other forlorn hope than that
of Hunanity is capable.  Idly, weakly, shall the timidly perspicacious hope to speak the great truth, yet not offend the
beneficiaries of current falsehoods; to declare the true God,
yet excite no uproar among Diana's silversmiths. The world
was never created, and is not governed, so that Policy and
Principle, Time and Eternity, God and Mammoni, can all be
served together. If they could be, Virtue would be merely
shrewdness, and blindness the physical synonyme of evil.
But what then?  Do we say that the path of Rectitude is
thorny and craggy, and that the6 only verdure and balmy sunshine that approach it are those of the adjacent, alluring byways of Luxury and Ease, leading down to the garden of Sensual Pleasure? By no means. What is affirmed is not that
Truth's service is necessarily one of privation and suffering,
but that the true soldiers never choose it as the way of ease,
of ambition, or from any selfish consideration whatever, but
because it is the way of Right. "Necessity is upon me,"
says the true Apostle; his course is one dictated to him by
523 
MISCELLANIES.
considerations higher than any hopes of heaven, deeper than
any fears of hell. Doubtless, to the eye of sense, his career
seems dwarfish, his aspirations baffled, his life a defeat and a
failure. But he has never appealed to the ordeal of sense, and
feels under no obligation to accept its judgments. Who shall
say that Nebuchadnezzar on his throne is happier than Daniel
in his prison? or that Herod in his palace, gorged with Epicurean dainties, and gloating over voluptuous music and dancing, is more blest than the uncouth, stern-souled Baptist,
striding in solitary hunger over sun-scorched deserts of rock
and sand,   very far from luxury, but very near to God, - or
contemplating his swiftly approaching death in a malefactor's
dungeon? Jerusalem and the Temple, the Palace and its
gardens, are the possessions of the former; but what are they
to the celestial splendors, the eternal verities, which are present
to the rapt, adoring gaze of the latter, and gild the visions of
his rocky couch with a glory inconceivable to the apprehension of the Sadducee?
*These two can never understand each other while they
remain essentially as now. The unbelief that questions, and
cavils, and scruples, and doubts, and denies, seems to him
incomparably less virulent and fearful than that which makes
mitres and triple-crowns counters of a sordid ambition, and
shakes the keys of eternal bliss or woe in the face of longsuffering millions, to make them bow their necks passively
to the yoke of a soul-crushing despotism.
For, indeed, to the Reformer's apprehension, nothing can
be more absurd than the dread of irreligion professed by men
whose daily lives are a proclamation of indifference to the
wants and wrongs of the benighted and destitute,- who are
so intent on having the Poor evangelized, that they do not
ask how they are to be fed,   and who act as though a plentiful distribution of tracts and Bibles would alone suffice to
banish evil from the earth.
To the Conservative, Religion would seem often a part of
the subordinate' machinery of Police, having for its main
524 
REFORMS AND REFORMIERS.
object the instilling of proper humility into the abject, of
contentment into the breasts of the down-trodden, and of
enduing with a sacred reverence for Property those who have
no personal reason to think well of the sharp distinction of
Mine and Thine. The Reformer, on the other hand, insists on
Humanity as the inevitable manifestation of all true Religion, presses the best-beloved Apostle's searching question,
"If a man love not his brother, whom he has seen, how can
he love God, whom he has not seen"? or, as a poet of our own
day has phrased it, affirms that there
"are infidels to Adam worse than infidels to God,"
and that the effective answer to an imperfect, halting faith, is
a devoted, loving life.
This earnest, angry strife shall yet be composed, -this
stormy clamor be hushed, -not through the absolute defeat
of either party, but through the recognition by each of the
truth affirmed by the other, so that Conservatism and Reform
shall take their places side by side on the same platform, and
Faith and Life, Humanity and Christianity, be recognized by
our enlarged vision as halves of the same unit, planets revolving around and lighted in turn by the same sun of Everlasting Truth. Meantime, let us cherish the Reformer! for
his, and not the Conservative's, is the active, aggressive force
through which this ultimate harmonization of the Real with
the Ideal is to be achieved. Harsh and sweeping, rash and
destructive, he may seem, and often is; but his fire, however
blind and indiscriminate its rage, will be found at last to have
left unconsumed all that was really worth preserving. With
him, while we respect the proper force and legitimate function
o f    Conservatism, we must say
"Standing still is childish folly;
Going backward is a crime;
None should patiently endure
Any ill that he can cure:
ONWARD! keep the march of Time!
ONWARD! while a wrong remains
To be conquered by the right,
525 
4MISCELLANIE,S.
While Oppression lifts a finger
To affront us by his might,
While an error clouds the reason
Of the universal heart,
Or a slave awaits his freedom,
AcTION is the wise man's part."
And to him our final word of gratitude and cheer shall
fitly be
"We thank thee, watcher on the lonely tower,
For all thou tellest of the coming hour
When Error shall decay and Truth grow strong,
And Right shall rule supreme and vanquish Wrong."
And, indeed, though the life of the Reformer may seem
rugged and arduous, it were hard to say considerately that
any other were worth living at all. Who can thoughtfully
affirm that the career of the conquering, desolating, subjugating warrior,- of the devotee of Gold, or Pomp, or Sensual
Joys; the Monarch in his purple, the Miser by  his  chest,
the wassailer over his bowl, - is not a libel on Humanity
anl an offence against God?  But the earnest, unselfish Reformer, - born into a state of darkness, evil, and suffering,
and honestly striving to replace these by light, and purity,
and happiness,- he may fall and die, as so many have done
before him, but he cannot fail. His vindication shall gleam
from the walls of his hovel, his dungeon, his tomb; it shall
shine in the radiant eyes of uncorrupted Childhood, and fall
in blessings from the lips of high-hearted, generous Youth.
As the untimely death of the good is our strongest moral
assurance of the Resurrection, so the life wearily worn out in
doubtful and perilous conflict with Wrong and Woe is our
most conclusive evidence that Wrong and Woe shall yet
vanish forever. Luther, dying amid the agonizing tears and
wild consternation of all Protestant Germany, - Columbus,
borne in regal pomp to his grave by the satellites of the royal
miscreant whose ingratitude and perfidy had broken his
mighty heart, - Lovejoy, pouring out his life-blood beside
the Press whose freedom he had so gallantly defended,- yes,
and not less majestic, certainly not less tragic, than either, the
526 
REFORMS AND REFORMERS.
lowly and lonely couch of the dying' Uncle Tom,' whose
whole life had been a brave and Christian battle against
monstrous injustice and crime,- these teach us, at least, that
all true greatness is ripened, and tempered, and proved, in
life-long struggle against vicious beliefs, traditions, practices,
institutions; and that not to have been a RPeformer is not to
have truly lived. Life is a bubble which any breath may
dissolve; Wealth or Power a snow-flake, melting momently
into the treacherous deep across whose waves we are floated
on to our unseen destiny; but to have lived so that one less
orphan is called to choose between starvation and infamy,
-one less slave feels the lash applied in mere wantonness or
cruelty,- to have lived so that some eyes of those whom
Fame shall never know are brightened and others suffused at
the name of the beloved one, - so that the few who knew
him truly shall recognize him as a bright, warm, cheering
presence, which was here for a season and left the world no
worse for his stay in it,-  this surely is to have really lived,
- and jnot wholly in vain.
527 
THE GROUNDS OF.PROTECTION.*
MR. PRESIDENT AND RESPECTED AUDITORS: T has devolved on me, as junior advocate for the cause of
Protection, to open the discussion of this question. I do
this with less diffidence than I should feel in meeting able
opponents and practised disputants on almost any other topic,
because I am strongly confident that you, my hearers, will
regard this as a subject demanding logic rather than rhetoric,
the exhibition and proper treatment of homely truths, rather
than the indulgence of flights of fancy.  As sensible as you can
be of my deficiencies as a debater, I have chosen to put my
views on paper, in order that I may present them in as concise a manner as possible, and not consume my hour before
commencing my argument. You have nothing of oratory to
lose by this course; I will hope that something may be gained
to my cause in clearness and force. And here let me say that,
while the hours I have been enabled to give to preparation
for this debate have been few indeed, I feel the less regret in
that my life has been in some measure a preparation. If there
be any subject to which I have devoted time, and thought, and
patient study, in a spirit of anxious desire to learn and follow
the truth, it is this very question of Protection; if I have
totally misapprehended its character and bearings, then am
* Speech at the Tabernacle, New York, February 10, 1843, in public debate
on this resolution: Resolved, That a Protective Tariff is conducive to our National Prosperity.
Affirmative:  JOSEPH BLUNT,        Negative: SAMUEL J. TILDEN,
HOoRACE GREELEY.                 PARKE  GODWIN. 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
I ignorant, hopelessly ignorant indeed. And, while I may not
hope to set before you, in the brief space allotted me, all that
is essential to a full understanding of a question which spans
the whole arch of Political Economy,- on which abler men
have written volumes without at all exhausting it, - I do
entertain a sanguine hope that I shall be able to set before
you considerations conclusive to the candid and unbiassed
mind of the policy and necessity of Protection.
Let us not waste our time on non-essentials. That unwise
and unjust measures have been adopted under the pretence of
Protection, I stand not here to deny; that laws intended to be
Protective have sometimes been injurious in their tendency,
I need not dispute. The logic which would thence infer the
futility or the danger of Protective Legislation would just as
easily prove all laws and all policy mischievous and destructive.   Political Economy is one of the latest-born of the
Sciences; the very fact that we meet here this evening to
discuss a question so fundamental as this proves it to be yet
in its comparative infancy.  The sole favor I shall ask of my
opponents, therefore, is that they will not waste their efforts
and your time in attacking positions that we do not maintain,
and hewing down straw giants of their own manufacture, but
meet directly the arguments which I shall advance, and
which, for the sake of simplicity and clearness, I will proceed
to put before you in the form of Propositions and their Illustrations, as follows:
Proposition I. A NATION WHICH WOULD BE PROSPEROUS,
MUST PROSECUTE VARIOUS BRANCHES OF INDUSTRY, AND SUPPLY
ITS VITAL WANTS MAINLY BY THE LABOR OF ITS OWN HANDS.
Cast your eyes where you will over the face of the earth,
trace back the History of Man and of Nations to the
earliest recorded periods, and I think you will find this rule
uniformly prevailing, that the nation which is eminently Agricultural and Grain-exporting, - which depends mainly or
principally on other nations for its regular supplies of Manufactured fabrics, — has been comparatively a poor nation, and
34
529 
MISCELLANIES.
ultimately a dependent nation. I do not say that this is the
instant result of exchanging the rude staples of Agriculture
for the more delicate fabrics of Art; but I maintain that it is
the inevitable tendency. The Agricultural nation falls in
debt, becomes impoverished, and ultimately subject.   The
palaces of "merchant princes" may emblazon its harbors and
overshadow its navigable waters; there may be a mighty
Alexandria, but a miserable Egypt behind it; a flourishing
Odessa or I)antzie, but a rude, thinly peopled southern Ptussia
or Poland; the exchangers may flourish and roll in luxury,
but the producers famish and die. Indeed, few old and
civilized countries become largely exporters of grain until
they have lost, or by corruption are prepared to surrender,
their independence; and these often present the spectacle of
the laborer starving on the fields he has tilled, in the midst
of their fertility and promise. These appearances rest upon
and indicate a law, which I shall endeavor hereafter to explain. I pass now to my
Proposition II. THERE IS A NATURAL TENDENCY IN A COMPARATIVELY NEW COUNTRY TO BECOME AND CONTINUE AN
EXPORTER OF GRAIN AND OTHER RUDE STAPLES AND AN IMPORTER OF MANUFACTURES.
I think I hardly need waste time in demonstrating this
proposition, since it is illustrated and confirmed by universal
experience, and rests on obvious laws.  The new country has
abundant and fertile soil, and produces Grain with remarkable
facility; also, Meats, Timber, Ashes, and most rude and bulky
articles. Labor is there in. demand, being required to clear,
to build, to open roads, &c., and the laborers are comparatively
few; while, in older countries, Labor is abundant and cheap,
as also are Capital, Machinery, and all the means of the
cheap production of Manufactured fabrics. I surely need not
waste words to show that, in the absence of any counteracting
policy, the new country will import, and continue to import,
largely of the fabrics of older countries, and to pay for them,
so far as she may, with her Agricultural staples. I will
530
I 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
endeavor to show hereafter that she will continue to do this
long after she has attained a condition to manufacture them
as cheaply for herself, even regarding the money cost alone.
But that does not come under the present head. The whole
history of our country, and especially from 1782 to'90, when
we had no Tariff and scarcely any Paper Money, -proves
that, whatever may be the Currency or the internal condition of the new country, it will continue to draw its chief
supplies from the old,- large or small according to its measure of ability to pay or obtain credit for them; but still,
putting Duties on Imports out of the question, it will continue to buy its Manufactures abroad, whether in prosperity
or adversity, inflation or depression.
I now advance to my
Proposition III. IT IS INJURIOUS TO THE NEW COUNTRY
THUS TO CONTINUE DEPENDENT FOR ITS SUPPLIES OF CLOTHING
AND IMANUFACTURED FABRICS ON THE OLD.
As this is probably the point on which the doctrines of
Protection first come directly in collision with those of Free
Trade, I will treat it more deliberately, and endeavor to illustrate and demonstrate it.
I presume I need not waste time in proving that the ruling
price of Grain (as of any Manufacture) in a region whence
it is considerably exported, will be its price at the point to
which it is exported, less the cost of snch transportation. For
instance: the cost of transporting Wheat hither from large
grain-growing sections of Illinois was last fall sixty cents;
and, New York being their most available market, and the
price here ninety cents, the market there at once settled at
thirty cents.  As this adjustment of prices rests on a law
obvious, immutable as gravitation, I presume I need not waste
words in establishing it.
I proceed, then, to my next point.  The average price of
Wheat throughout the world is something less than one dollar
per bushel; higher where the consumption largely exceeds
531 
MISCELLANIES.
the adjacent production,- lower where the production largely
exceeds the immediate consumption (I put out of view in this
statement the inequalities created by Tariffs, as I choose at
this point to argue the question on the basis of universal Free
Trade, which is of course the basis most favorable to my
opponents).  I say, then, if all Tariffs were abolished to-morrow, the price of Wheat in England -that being the most
considerable ultimate market of surpluses, and the chief supplier of our manufactures -would govern the price in this
country, while it would be itself governed by the price at
which that staple could be procured in sufficiency from other
grain-growing regions. Now, Southern Russia and Central
Poland produce Wheat for exportation at thirty to fifty cents
per bushel; but the price is so increased by the cost of transportation that at Dantzic it averages some ninety and at
Odessa some eighty cents per bushel. The cost of importation to England from these ports being ten and fifteen cents
respectively, the actual cost of the article in England, all
charges paid, and allowing for a small increase of price consequent on the increased demand, would not, in the absence
of all Tariffs whatever, exceed one dollar and ten cents per
bushel; and this would be the average price at which we must
sell it in England in order to buy thence thie great bulk of
our Manufactures. I think no man will dispute or seriously
vary this calculation. Neither can any reflecting man seriously contend that we could purchase forty or fifty millions'
worth or more of Foreign Manufactures per annum, and pay
for them in additional products of our Slave Labor- in Cotton and Tobacco. The consumption of these articles is now
pressed to its utmost limit, - that of Cotton especially is
borne down by the immense weight of the crops annually
thrown upon it, and almost constantly on the verge of a glut.
If we are to buy our Manufactures principally from Europe,
we must pay for the additional amount mainly in the products of Northern Agricultural industry,- that is universally
agreed on. The point to be determined is, whether we could
obtain them abroad cheaper- really and positively cheaper,
532 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
all Tariffs being abrogated - than under an efficient system of
Protection.
Let us closely scan this question. Illinois and Indiana,
natural grain-growing States, need Cloths; and, in the absence
of all Tariffs, these can be transported to them from England
for two to three per cent. of their value. It follows, then,
that, in order to undersell any American competition, the British Manufacturer need only put his cloths at his factory five
per cent. below the wholesale price of such cloths in Illinois, in
order to command the American market. That is, allowing
a fair broadcloth to be manufactured in or near Illinois for
three dollars and a quarter per yard, cash price, in the face
of British rivalry, and paying American prices for materials
and labor, the British manufacturer has only to make that
same cloth at three dollars per yard in Leeds or Huddersfield,
and he can decidedly undersell his American rival, and drive
him out of the market. Mind, I do not say that he would
supply the Illinois market at that price after the American
rivalry had been crushed; I know he would not; but, so long as
any serious effort to build up or sustain Manufactures in this
country existed, the large and strong European establishments
would struggle for the additional market which our growing and
plenteous country so invitingly proffers. It is well known that
in 1815 -16, after the close of the Last War, British Manufactures were offered for sale in our chief markets at the rate
of "pound for pound,"-  that is, fabrics of which the first
cost to the manufacturer was $4.44 were offered in Boston
market at $ 3.33, duty paid.  This was not sacrifice, -it was
dictated by a profound forecast. Well did the foreign fabricants know that their self-interest dictated the utter overthrow, at whatever cost, of the young rivals which the war
had built up in this Country, and which our Government and
a majority of the People had blindly or indolently abandoned
to their fate. William Cobbett, the celebrated PRadical, but
with a sturdy English heart, boasted upon his first return to
England that he had been actively engaged here in promoting
the interests of his country by compassing the destruction of
533 
MISCELLANIES.
American Manufactories in various ways which he. specified,
-" somnetimes (says he) by Fire."  We all know  that great
sacrifices are often submitted to by a rich and long-established
stage-owner, steamboat proprietor, or whatever, to break down
a young and comparatively penniless rival. So in a thousand
instances, especially in a rivalry for so large a prize as the
supplying with Manufactures of a great and growing Nation.
But I here put aside all calculations of a temporary sacrifice;
I suppose merely that the foreign manufacturers will supply
our Grain-growing States with Cloths at a trifling profit so
long as they encounter American rivalry; and I say it is perfectly obvious that, if it cost three dollars and a quarter a
yard to make a fair broadcloth in or near Illinois, in the
infancy of our arts, and a like article could be made in Europe
for three dollars, then the utter destruction of the American
manufacture is inevitable. The Foreign drives it out of the
market and its maker into bankruptcy; and now our farmers,
in purchasing their cloths, "buy where they can buy cheapest,"
which is the first commandment of Free Trade, and get their
cloth of England at three dollars a yard. I maintain that
this would not last a year after the American factories had
been silenced, -  that then the British operator would begin
to think of profits as well as bare cost' for his cloth, and to
adjust his prices so as to recover what it had cost him to put
down the dangerous competition. But let this pass for the
present, and say the Foreign Cloth is sold to Illinois for three
dollars per yard. We have yet to ascertain how much she
has gained or lost by the operation.
This, says Free Trade, is very plain and easy.  The four
simple rules of Arithmetic suffice to measure it.  She has
bought, say a million yards of Foreign Cloth for three dollars,
where she formerly paid three and a quarter for American;
making a clear saving of a quarter of a million dollars.
But not so fast,- we have omitted one important element
of the calculation. We have yet to see what effect the purchase of her Cloth in Europe, as contrasted with its manufacture at home, will have on the price of her Agricultural sta
534 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
ples. We have seen already that, in case she is forced to sell
a portion of her surplus product in Europe, the price of that
surplus must be the price which can be procured for it in
England, less the cost of carrying it there.  In other words:
the average price in England being one dollar and ten cents,
and the average cost of bringing it to New York being at
least fifty cents and then of transporting it to England at
least twenty-five more, the net proceeds to Illinois cannot exceed thirty-five cents per bushel. I need not more than state
so obvious a truth as that the price at which the surplus can
be sold governs the price of the whole crop; nor, indeed, if it
were possible to deny this would it at all affect the argument.
The real question to be determined is, not whether the American or the British manufacturers will furnish the most cloth
for the least cash, but which will supply the requisite quantity of Cloth for the least Grain in Illinois. Now we have
seen already that the price of Grain at any point where it is
readily and largely produced is governed by its nearness to or
remoteness from the market to which its surplus tends, and
the least favorable market in which any portion of it must be
sold. For instance: if Illinois produces a surplus of five
million bushels of Grain, and can sell one million of bushels
in New York, and two millions in New England, and another
million in the WVest Indies, and for the fifth million is compelled to seek a market in England, and that, being the remotest point at which she sells, and the point most exposed to
disadvantageous competition, is naturally the poorest market,
that farthest and lowest market to which she sends her surplus will govern, to a great extent if not absolutely, the price
she receives for the whole surplus. But, on the other hand,
let her Cloths, her Wares, be manufactured in her midst, or on
the junctions and waterfalls in her vicinity, thus affording an
immediate market for her Grain, and now the average price
of it rises, by an irresistible law, nearly or quite to the average of the world. Assuming that average to be one dollar,
the price in Illinois, making allowance for the fertility and
cheapness of her soil, could not fall below an average of sev
535 
3ISCELLANIES.
enty-five cents. Indeed, the experience of the periods when
her consumption of Grain has been equal to her production,
as well as that of other sections where the same has been the
case, proves conclusively that the average price of her Wheat
would exceed that sum.
We are now ready to calculate the profit and loss. Illinois,
under Free Trade, with her "workshops in Europe," will buy
her cloth twenty-five cents per yard cheaper, and thus make
a nominal saving of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars
in her year's supply; but, she thereby compels herself to pay
for it in Wheat at thirty-five instead of seventy-five cents per
bushel, or to give over nine and one third bushels of Wheat
for every yard under Free Trade, instead of four and a third
under a system of Home Production.  In other words, while
she is making a quarter of a million dollars by buying her
Cloth "where she can buy cheapest," she is losing nearly Two
Millions of Dollars on the net product of her Grain. The
striking of a balance between her profit and her loss is certainly not a difficult, but rather an unpromising, operation.
Or, let us state the result in another form: She can buy
her cloth a little cheaper in England, - Labor being there
lower, Machinery more perfect, and Capital more abundant;
but, in order to pay for it, she must not merely sell her own
products at a correspondingly low price, but enough lower to
overcome the cost of transporting them from Illinois to England. She will give the cloth-maker in England less Grain
for her Cloth than she would give to the man who made it oil
her own soil; but for every bushel she sends him in payment
for his fabric, she must give two to the wagoner, boatman,
shipper, and factor, who transport it thither. On the whole
product of her industry, two thirds is tolled out by carriers
and bored out by Inspectors, until but a beggarly remnant is
left to satisfy the fabricator of her goods.
And here I trust I have made obvious to you the law
which dooms an Agricultural Country to inevitable and ruinous disadvantage in exchanging its staples for Manufactures,
536 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
and involves it in perpetual and increasing debt and dependence. The fact, I early alluded to; is not the reason now
apparent? It is not that Agricultural communities are more
extravagant or less industrious than those in which Manufactures or Commerce preponderate,- it is because there is an
inevitable disadvantage to Agriculture in the very nature of
all distant exchanges. Its products are far more perishable
than any other; they cannot so well await a future demand;
but in their excessive bulk and density is the great evil. We
have seen that, while the English Manufacturer can send his
fabrics to Illinois for less than five per cent. on their first
cost, the Illinois farmer must pay two hundred per cent. on
his Grain for its transportation to English consumers.   In
other words: the English manufacturer need only produce his
goods five per cent. below the American to drive the latter
out of the Illinois market, the Illinoian must produce wheat
for one third of its English price in order to compete with the
English and Polish grain-grower in Birmingham and Sheffield.
And here is the answer to that scintillation of Free Trade
wisdom which flashes out in wonder that Manufactures are
eternally and especially in want of Protection, while Agriculture and Commerce need none. The assumption is false in
any sense,- our Commerce and Navigation cannot live without Protection,- never did live so, - but let that pass. It is
the interest of the whole country which demands that that
portion of its Industry which is most exposed to ruinous
foreign rivalry should be cherished and sustained. The
wheat-grower, the grazier, is protected by ocean and land;
by the fact that no foreign article can be introduced to
rival his except at a cost for transportation of some thirty to
one hundred per cent. on its value; while our Manufactures
can be inundated by foreign competition at a cost of some
two to ten per cent.  It is the grain-grower, the cattle-raiser,
who is protected by a duty on Foreign Manufactures, quite
as much as the spinner or shoemaker. He who talks of
Manufactures being protected and nothing else, might just as
537 
MISCELLANIES.
sensibly complain that we fortify Boston and New York, and
not Pittsburg and Cincinnati.
Again: You see here our answer to those philosophers who
modestly tell us that their views are liberal and enlightened,
while ours are benighted, selfish, and un-Christian. They tell
us that the foreign factory-laborer is anxious to exchange
with us the fruits of his labor,- that he asks us to give him
of our surplus of grain for the cloth that he is ready to make
cheaper than we can now get it, while we have a superabundance of bread. Now, putting f6r the present out of the
question the fact that, though our Tariff were abolished, his
could remain,-  that neither England, nor France, nor any
great manufacturing country, would receive our Grain untaxed
though we offered so to take their goods, - especially the fact
that they never did so take of us while we were freely taking
of them, -we say to them, "Sirs, we are willing to take
Cloth of you for Grain: but why prefer to trade at a ruinous
disadvantage to both? Why should there be half the diameter of the earth between him who makes coats and him who
makes bread, the one for the other?  We are willing to give
you bread for clothes; but we are not willing to pay two
thirds of our bread as the cost of transporting the other third
to you, because we sincerely believe it needless and greatly to
our disadvantage. We are willing to work for and buy of
you, but not to support the useless and crippling activity of
a falsely directed Commerce: not to contribute by our sweat
to the luxury of your nobles, the power of your kings. But
come to us, you who are honest, peaceable, and industrious;
bring hither your machinery, or, if that is not yours, bring
out your sinews; and we will aid you to reproduce the imiplements of your skill. We will give you more bread for your
cloth here than you can possibly earn for it where you are, if
you will but come among us and aid us to sustain the policy
that secures steady employment and a fair reward to Home
Industry. We will no longer aid to prolong your existence
in a state of semi-starvation where you are; but we are ready
538 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
to share with you our Plenty and our Freedom here." Such
is the answer which the friends of Protection make to the
demand and the imputation: judge ye whether our policy be
indeed selfish, un-Christian, and insane.
I proceed now to set forth my
Proposition IV. TIIAT EQUILIBRIUM BETWEEN AGRICULTURE,
MANUFACTURES AND COMMERCE, WHICHII WE NEED, CAN ONLY BE
MAINTAINED BY MEANS OF PROTECTIVE DUTIES.
You will have seen that the object we seek is not to make
our country a Manufacturer for other nations, but for herself,
- not to make her the baker and brewer and tailor of other
people, but of her own household. If I understand at all
the first rudiments of National Economy, it is best for each
and all nations that each shotuld mainly fabricate for itself,
freely purchasing of others all such staples as its own soil or
climate proves ungenial to. We appreciate quite as well as
our opponents the impolicy of attempting to grow coffee in
Greenland or glaciers in Malabar, - to extract blood from a
turnip or sunbeams from cucumbers. A vast deal of wit has
been expended on our stupidity by our acuter adversaries, but
it has been quite thrown away, except as it has excited the
hollow laughter of the ignorant as well as thoughtless. All
this, however sharply pushed, falls wide of our true position.
To all the fine words we hear about "the impossibility of
counteracting the laws of Nature," "Trade regulating itself,"
&c., &c., we bow with due deference, and wait for the sage to
resume his argument. What we do affirm is this, that it is
bestfor every nation to make at home all those articles of its
own consumption that can just as well - that is, with nearly
or quite as little labor - be made there as anywhere else.  We
say it is not wise, it is not well, to send to France for boots,
to Germany for hose, to England for knives and forks, and so
on; because the real cost of them would be less, -even
though the nominal price should be slightly more, - if we
made them in our own country; while the facility of paying
539 
MISCELLANIES.
for them would be much greater. We do not object to the
occasional importation of choice articles to operate as specimens and incentives to our own artisans to improve the
quality and finish of their workmanship, - where the home
competition does not avail to bring the process to its perfection, as it often will. In such cases, the rich and luxurious
will usually be the buyers of these choice articles, and can
afford to pay a good duty. There are gentlemen of extra
polish in our cities and villages who think no coat good
enough for them which is not woven in an English loom,
no boot adequately transparent which has not been fashioned
by a Parisian master. I quarrel not with their taste: I only
say that, since the Government must have Revenue and the
American artisan should have Protection, I am glad it is so
fixed that these gentlemen shall contribute handsomely to the
former, and gratify their aspirations with the least possible
detriment to the latter. It does not invalidate the fact nor
the efficiency of Protection that foreign competition with
American workmanship is not entirely shut out.  It is the
general result which is important, and not the exception.
Now, he who can seriously contend, as some have seemed to
do, that Protective Duties do not aid and extend the domestic
production of the articles so protected might as well undertake to argue the sun out of the heavens at mid-day. All
experience, all common sense, condemn him. Do we not
know that our Manufactures first shot up under the stringent
Protection of the Embargo and War? that they withered and
crumbled under the comparative Free Trade of the few succeeding years? that they were  revived  and extended  by
the Tariffs of 1824 and'28? Do we not know that Germany,
crippled by British policy, which inundated her with goods yet
excluded her grain and timber, was driven, years since, to the
establishment of her  "Zoll-Verein" or Tariff Union, -  a
measure of careful and stringent Protection, under which
Manufactures have grown up and flourished through all her
many States? She has adhered steadily, firmly, to her Protective Policy, while we have faltered and oscillated; and
540 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
what is the result? She has created and established her
Manufactures; and in doing so has vastly increased her wealth
and augmented the reward of her industry. Her public sentiment, as expressed through its thousand channels, is almost
unanimous in favor of the Protective Policy; and now, when
England, finding at length that her cupidity has overreached
itself,- that she cannot supply the Germans with clothes yet
refuse to buy their bread, -talks of relaxing her Corn-Laws
in order to coax back her ancient and profitable customer, the
answer is, " No; it is now too late. We have built up Home
Manufactures in repelling your rapacity,- we cannot destroy
them at your caprice. What guaranty have we that, should
we accede to your terms, you would not return again to your
policy of taking all and giving none so soon as our factories
had crumbled into ruin? Besides, we have found that we
can make cheaper - really cheaper - than we were able
to buy, - can pay better wages to our laborers, and secure
a better and steadier market for our products. We are content to abide in the position to which you have driven us.
Plass on!"
But this is not the sentiment of Germany alone. All
Europe acts on the principle of self-Protection; because all
Europe sees its benefits. The British journals complain that,
though they have made a show of relaxation in their own
Tariff, and their Premier has made a Free Trade speech in
Parliament, the chaff has caught no birds; but six hostile
Tariffs - all Protective in their character, and all aimed at
the supremacy of British Manufactures- were enacted within the year 1842.   And thus, while schoolmen plausibly
talk of the adoption and spread of Free Trade principles, and
their rapid advances to speedy ascendency, the practical man
knows that the truth is otherwise, and that many years must
elapse before the great Colossus of Manufacturing monopoly
will find another Portugal to drain of her life-blood under
the delusive pretence of a commercial reciprocity. And,
while Britain continues to pour forth her specious treatises on
Political Economy, proving Protection a mistake and an im
541 
MISCELLANIES.
possibility through her Parliamentary Reports and Speeches
in praise of Free Trade, the shrewd statesmen of other nations
humor the joke with all possible gravity, and pass it on to
the next neighbor; yet all the time take care of their own
interests, just as though Adam Smith had never speculated
nor Peel soberly expatiated on the blessings of Free Trade,
looking round occasionally with a curious interest to see
whether anybody was really taken in by it.
I have partly anticipated, yet I will state distinctly, my
Proposition V. PROTECTION IS NECESSARY AND PROPER TO
SUSTAIN AS WELL AS TO CREATE A BENEFICENT ADJUSTMENT OF
OUR NATIONAL INDUSTRY.
"Why can't our Manufacturers go alone?" petulantly asks
a Free-Trader; "they have had Protection long enough. They
ought not to need it any more." To this I answer that, if
Manufactures were protected as a matter of special bounty or
ftvor to the Manufacturers, a single day were too long.  I
would not consent that they should be sustained one day
longer than the interests of the whole Country required. I
think you have already seen that, not for the sake of Manufacturers, but for the sake of all Productive Labor, should
Protection be afforded.  If I have been intelligible, you will
have seen that the purpose and essence of Protection is LABORSAvING, -the making two blades of grass grow instead of
one. This it does by "planting the Manufacturer as nearly
as may be by the side of the Farmer," as Mr. Jefferson expressed it, and thereby securing to the latter a market for
which he had looked to Europe in vain. Now, the market of
the- latter is certain as the recurrence of appetite; but that
is not all. The Farmer and the Manufacturer, being virtually
neighbors, will interchange their productions directly, or with
but one intermediate, instead of sending them reciprocally
across half a continent and a broad ocean, through the hands
of many holders, until the toll taken out by one after another
has exceeded what remains of the grist.  "Dear-bought and
542 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
far-fetched" is an old maxim, containing more essential truth
than many a chapter by a modern Professor of Political Econ omy.   Under the Protective policy, instead of having one
thousand men making Cloth in one hemisphere, and an equal
number raising Grain in the other, with three thousand factitiously employed in transporting and interchanging these
products, we have over two thousand producers of Grain, and
as nimy of Cloth, leaving far too little employment for one
thousand in making the exchanges between them. This consequence is inevitable: although the production on either side
is not confined to the very choicest locations, the total product of their labor is twice as much as formerly. In other
words, there is a double quantity of food, clothing, and all the
necessaries and comforts of life, to be shared among the producers of wealth, simply from the diminution of the number
of non-producers. If all the men now enrolled in Armies and
Navies were advantageously employed in Productive Labor,
there would doubtless be a larger dividend of comforts and
necessaries of life for all, because more to be divided than
now and no greater mnumber to receive it: just so in the case
before us. Every thousand persons employed in needless
Transportation and in factitious Commerce are so many
subtracted from the great body of Producers, from the proceeds of whose labor all must be subsisted. The dividend
for each must, of course, be governed by the magnitude of the
quotient.
But, if this be so advantageous, it is queried, why is any
legislation necessary? Why would not all voluntarily see
and embrace it? I answer, because the apparent individual
advantage is often to be pursued by a course directly adverse
to the general welfare. We know that Free Trade asserts the
contrary of this; maintaining that, if every man pursues that
course most conducive to his individual interest, the general
good will thereby be most certainly and signally promoted.
But, to say nothing of the glaring exceptions to this law which
crowd our statute-books with injunctions and penalties, we
are everywhere met with pointed contradictions of its assump
543 
MISCELLANIES.
tion, which hallows and blesses the pursuits of the gambler,
the distiller, and the libertine, making the usurer a saint and
the swindler a hero. Adam Smith himself admits that there
are avocations which enrich the individual but impoverish
the community. So in the case before us. A B is a farmer
in Illinois, and has much grain to sell or exchange for goods.
But, while it is demonstrable that, if all the manufactures
consumed in Illinois were produced there, the price of train
must rise nearly to the average of the world, it is equally certain that A B's single act, in buying and consuming Amnerican cloth, will not raise the price of grain generally, nor of
his grain. It will not perceptibly affect the price of grain at
all. A solemn compact of the whole community to use only
American fabrics would have some effect; but this could
never be established, or never enforced. A few Free-Traders
standing out, selling their grain at any advance which might
accrue, and buying "where they could buy cheapest," would
induce one after another to look out for No. 1, and let the
public interests take care of themselves: so the whole compact would fall to pieces like a rope of sand. Many a one
would say, "Why should I aid to keep up the price of Produce?  I am only a consumer of it,"   not realizing or caring
for the interest of the community, even though it less palpably involved his own; and that would be an end.  Granted
that it is desirable to encourage and prefer Home Production
and Manufacture, a Tariff is the obvious way, and the only
way, in'which it can be effectively and certainly accomplished.
But why is a Tariff necessary after Manufactures are once
established? "You say," says a Free-Trader, "that you can
Manufacture cheaper if Protected than we can buy abroad:
then why not do it without Protection, and save all trouble?"
Let me answer this cavil:  I will suppose that the Manufactures of this Country
amount in value to One Hundred Millions of Dollars per annum, and those of Great Britain to Three Hundred Millions.
Let us suppose also that, under an efficient Protective Tariff,
544 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.        4
ours are produced five per cent, cheaper than those of Eng land, and that our own markets are supplied entirely from the
Home Product. But at the end of this year, 1843, we,-con cluding that our Manufactures have been protected  long
enough and ought now to go alone,-repeal absolutely our
Tariff, and commit our great interests thoroughly to the guid ance of "Free Trade." Well: at this very time the British
Manufacturers, on making up the account and review of their
year's business, find that they have manufactured goods cost ing them Three Hundred Millions, as aforesaid, and have sold
to just about that amount, leaving a residue or surplus on
hand of Fifteen or Twenty Millions' worth. These are to be
sold; and their net proceeds will constitute the interest on
their capital and the profit on their year's business. But
where shall they be sold? If crowded on the Home or their
established Foreign Markets, they will glut and depress those
markets, causing a general decline of prices and a heavy loss,
not merely on this quantity of goods, but on the whole of
their next year's business. They know better than to do any
such thing. Instead of it, they say, "Here is the American
Market just thrown open to us by a repeal of their Tariff: let
us send thither our surplus, and sell it for what it will fetch."
They ship it over accordingly, and in two or three weeks it is
rattling off through our auction stores, at prices first five, then
ten, fifteen, twenty, and down to thirty per cent. bela   our
previous rates. Every jobber and dealer is tickled with the
idea of buying goods of novel patterns so wonderfully cheap;
and the sale proceeds briskly, though at constantly declining
prices, till the whole stock is disposed of and our market is
gorged to repletion.
Now, the British Manufacturers may not have received for
the whole Twenty Millions' worth of Goods over Fourteen or
Fifteen Millions; but what of it?  Whatever it may be is
clear profit on their year's business in cash or its full equivalent. All their established markets are kept clear and eager;
and they can now go on vigorously and profitably with the
business of the new year. But more: they have crippled an
35
545 
MISCELLANIES.
active and growing rival; they have opened a new market,
which shall erelong be theirs also.
Let us now look at our side of the question:
The American Manufacturers have also a stock of goods on
hand, and they come into our market to dispose of them.
But they suddenly find that market forestalled and depressed
by rival fabrics of attractive novelty, and selling in profusion
at prices which rapidly run down to twenty-five per cent. below cost. What are they to do? They cannot force sales at
any price not utterly ruinous'; there is no demand at any
rate. They cannot retaliate upon England the mischief they
must suffer, - her Tariff forbids; and the other markets of
the world are fully supplied, and will bear but a limited pressure. The foreign influx has created a scarcity of money as
well as a plethora of goods. Specie has largely been exported
in payment, which has compelled the Banks to contract and
deny loans. Still, their obligations must be met; if they cannot make sales, the Sheriff will, and must. It is not merely
tleir surplus, but their whole product, which has been depreciated and made unavailable at a blow.   The end is easily
foreseen: our Manufacturers become bankrupt and are broken
up; their works are brought to a dead stand; the Laborers
therein, after spending months in constrained idleness, are
driven by famine into the Western wilderness, or into less
productive and less congenial vocations; their acquired skill
and dexterity, as well as a portion of their time, are a dead
loss to themselves and the community; and we commence the
slow and toilsome process of rebuilding and rearranging our
industry on the one-sided or Agricultural basis. Such is the
process which we have undergone twice already. How many
repetitions shall satisfy us?
Now, will any man gravely argue that we have r         Fade Five
or Six Millions by this cheap purchase of British goods,- by
"buying where we could buy cheapest?"  Will he not see
that, though the price was low, the cost is very great?  But
the apparent saving is doubly deceptive; for the British manufacturers, having utterly crushed their American rivals by
546 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
one or two operations of this kind, soon find here a market,
not fora beggarly surplus of Fifteen or Twenty Millions, but
they have now a demand for the amount of our whole consumption, which, making allowance for our diminished ability
to pay, would probably still reach Fifty Millions per annum.
This increased demand would soon produce activity and buoyancy in the general market; and now the foreign Manufacturers would say in their consultations, "We have sold some
millions' worth of goods to America for less than cost, in order
to obtain control of that market; now we have it, and must
retrieve our losses," -and they would retrieve them, with interest.  They would have a perfect right to do so.  I hope no
man has understood me as implying any infringement of the
dictates of honesty on their part, still less of the laws of
trade. They have a perfect right to sell goods in our markets
on such terms as we prescribe and they can afford; it is we,
who set up our own vital interests to be bowled down by
their rivalry, who are alone to be blamed.
Who does not see that this sending out our great Industrial
Interests unarmed and unshielded to battle against the mailclad legions opposed to them in the arena of Trade is to insure their destruction?  It were just as wise to say that, because our people are brave, therefore they shall repel any
invader without fire-arms, as to say that the restrictions of
other nations ought not to be opposed by us because wmr artisans are skilful anid our manufactures have made great advances.   The very fact that our manufactures are greatly
extended and improved is the strong reason why they should
not be exposed to destruction. If they were of no amount or
value, their loss would be less disastrous; but now the Five
or Six Millions we should make on the cheaper importation
of goods would cost us One Hundred Millions in the destruc*tion of Manufacturing Property alone.
Yet this is but an item of our damage. The Manufacturing
classes feel the first effect of the blow, but it would paralyze
every muscle of society. One hundred thousand artisans and
laborers, discharged from our ruined factories, after being
547 
MISCELLANIES.
some time out of employment, at a waste of millions of the
National wealth, are at last driven by famine to engage in
other avocations,- of course, with inferior skill and at an inferior price. The farmer, gardener, grocer, lose them as customers to meet them as rivals. They crowd the labor-markets
of those branches of industry which we are still permitted to
pursue, just at the time when the demand for their products
has fallen off, and the price is rapidly declining. The result
is just what we have seen in a former instance: all that any
man may make by buying Foreign goods cheap, he loses ten
times over by the decline of his own property, product, or
labor; while to nine tenths of the whole people the result is
unmixed calamity. The disastrous consequences to a nation
of the mere derangement and paralysis of its Industry which
must follow the breaking down of any of its great Producing
Interests have never yet been sufficiently estimated. Free
Trade, indeed, assures us that every person thrown out of
employment in one place or capacity has only to choose
another; but almost every working-man knows from experience that such is not the fact, - that the loss of a situation
through the failure of his business is oftener a sore calamity.
I know a worthy citizen who spent six years in learning the
trade of a hatter, which he had just perfected in 1798, when
an immense importation of foreign hats utterly paralyzed the
manufacture in this country.  He travelled and sought for
months, but could find no employment at any price, and at
last gave up the pursuit, found work in some other capacity,
and has never made a hat since. He lives yet, and now comfortably, for he is industrious and frugal; but the six years
he gave to learn his trade were utterly lost to him,- lost for
the want of adequate and steady Protection to Home Industry.
I insist that the Government has failed of discharging its
proper and rightful duty to that citizen, and to thousands
and tens of thousands who have suffered from like causes. I
insist that, if the Government had permitted without complaint a foreign force to land on our shores and plunder that
man's house of the savings of six years of faithful industry,
548 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
the neglect of duty would not have been more flagrant. And
I firmly believe that the people of this country are One
Thousand Millions of Dollars poorer at this moment than
they would have been had their entire Productive Industry
been constantly protected, on the principles I have laid down,
from the formation of the Government till now. The steadiness of employment and of recompense thus secured, the
comparative absence of constrained idleness, and the more
efficient application of the labor actually performed, would
have vastly increased the product, -would have improved
and beautified the whole face of the country; and the Moral
and Intellectual advantages thence accruing would alone have
been inestimable. A season of suspension of labor in a community is usually one of aggravated dissipation, drunkenness,
and crime.
But let me more clearly illustrate the effect of foreign competition in raising prices to the consumer. To do this, I will
take my own'calling for an example, because I understand
that best; though any of you can apply the principle to that
with which he may be better acquainted. I am a publisher
of newspapers, and suppose I afford them at a cheap rate.
But the ability to maintain that cheapness is based on the
fact that I can certainly sell a large edition daily, so that no
part of that edition shall remain a dead loss on my hands.
Now, if there were an active and formidable Foreign competition in newspapers,- if the edition which I printed during
the night were frequently rendered unsalable by the arrival
of a foreign ship freighted with newspapers early in the morning, -the present rates could not be continued: the price
must be increased or the quality would decline. I presume
this holds equally good of the production of calicoes, glass,
and penknives as of newspapers, though it may be somewhat
modified by the nature of the article to which it is applied.
That it does hold true of sheetings, nails, and thousands of
articles, is abundantly notorious.
I have not burdened you with statistics, -you know they
are the reliance, the stronghold, of the cause of Protection,
549 
MISCELLANIES.
and that we can produce them by acres. My aim has been
to exhibit not mere collections of facts, however pertinent
and forcible, but the laws on which those facts are based,not the immediate manifestation, but the ever-living necessity
from which it springs. The contemplation of these laws
assures me that those articles which are supplied to us by
Home Production alone are relatively cheaper than those
which are rivalled and competed with from abroad. And I am
equally confident that the shutting out of Foreign competition
from our markets for other articles of general necessity and
liberal consumption which can be made here with as little
labor as anywhere would be followed by a corresponding
result,- a reduction of the price to the consumer at the same
time with increased employment and reward to our Producing
Classes.
But, Mr. President, were this only on one side true,were it certain that the price of the Home product would be
permanently higher than that of the Foreign, I should still
insist on efficient Protection, and for reasons I have sufficiently shown. Grant that a British cloth costs but $ 3 per yard,
and a corresponding American fabric $ 4, I still hoi that the'
latter would be decidedly the cheaper for us. The Fuel, Timber, Fruits, Vegetables, &c., which make up so large a share
of the cost of the Home product, would be rendered comparatively valueless by having our workshops in Europe.  I
look not so much to the nominal price as to the comparative
facility of payment. And, where cheapness is only to be attained by a depression of the wages of Labor to the neighborhood of the European standard, I prefer that it should be
dispensed with. One thing must answer to another; and I
hold that the farmers of this country can better afford, as a
matter of pecuniary advantage, to pay a good price for manufactured articles than to obtain them lower through the depression and inadequacy of the wages of the artisan and
laborer.
You will understand me, then, to be utterly hostile to that
idol of Free Trade worship; known as Free or unlimited Com
550 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
petition. The -sands of my hour are running low, and I cannot ask time to examine this topic more closely; yet I am
confident I could show that this Free Competition is a most
delusive and dangerous element of Political Economy. Bear
with a brief illustration: At this moment, common shirts are
made in London at the incredibly low price of three cents per
pair. Should we admit these articles free of duty and buy
them because they are so cheap?  Free trade says Yes; but
I say No! Sound Policy as well as Humanity forbids it.
By admitting them, we simply reduce a large and worthy
and suffering class of our population from the ability they
now possess of procuring a bare subsistence by their labor to
unavoidable destitution and pauperism. They must now
subsist upon the charity of relatives or of the community,unless we are ready to adopt the demoniac doctrine of the
Free Trade philosopher Malthus, that the dependent Poor
ought to be rigorously starved to death.  Then what have
we gained by getting these articles so exorbitantly cheap?
or, rather, what have we not lost? The labor which formerly
produced them is mainly struck out of existence; the poor
widows and seamstresses among us must still have a subsistence; and the imported garments must be paid for: where
is the profits of our speculation?
But even this is not the worst feature of the case. The
labor which we have here thrown out of employment by the
cheap importation of this article is now ready to be employed
again at any price,- if not one that will afford bread and
straw, then it must accept one that will produce potatoes and
rubbish; and with the product some Free-Trader proceeds to
break down the price and destroy the reward of similar labor
in some other portion of the earth. And thus each depression of wages produces another, and that a third, and so on,
making the circuit of the globe,- the aggravated necessities
of the Poor acting and reacting upon each other, increasing the omnipotence of Capital and deepening the dependence
of Labor, swelling and pampering a bloated and factitious
Commerce, grinding down and grinding down the destitute,
551 
MISCELLANIES.
until Malthus's remedy for Poverty shall become a grateful
specific, and, amid the splendors and luxuries of an alldevouring Commercial Feudalism, the squalid and famished
Millions, its dependants and victims, shall welcome death as a
deliverer from their sufferings and despair.
I wish time permitted me to give a hasty glance over the
doctrines and teachings of the Free Trade sophists, who esteem
themselves the Political Economists, christen their own views
liberal and enlightened, and complacently put ours aside as
benighted and barbarous. I should delight to show you how
they mingle subtle fallacy with obvious truth,- how they
reason acutely from assumed premises, which, being mistaken or incomplete, lead to false and often absurd conclusions, -how they contradict and confound each other, and
often, from Adam Smith, their patriarch, down to McCulloch
and Ricardo, either make admissions which undermine their
whole fabric, or confess themselves ignorant or in the dark on
points the most vital to a correct understanding of the great
subject they profess to have reduced to a Science. Yet even
Adam Smith himself expressly approves and justifies the
British Navigation Act, the most aggressively Protective
measure ever enacted,- a measure which, not being understood and seasonably counteracted by other nations, changed
for centuries the destinies of the World, - which silently
sapped and overthrew the Commercial and Political greatness  of Holland, - which  silenced  the thunder of  Van
Tromp, and swept the broom from his mast-head. But I
must not detain you longer.  I do not ask you to judge
of this matter by authority, but from facts which come
home to your reason and your daily experience. There
is not an observing and strong-minded mechanic in our
city who could not set any one of these Doctors of the Law
right on essential points.  I beg you to consider how few
great practical Statesmen they have ever been able to win to
their standard,- I might almost say none; for Huskisson
was but a nominal disciple;,- and expressly contravened their
552 
THE GROUNDS OF PROTECTION.
whole system upon an attempt to apply it to the Corn Laws;
and Calhoun is but a Free-Trader by location, and has never
yet answered his own powerful arguments in behalf of Protection. On the other hand, we point you to the long array
of mighty names which have illustrated the annals of Statesmanship in modern times, -to Chatham, William Pitt, and
the Great Frederick of Prussia; to the whole array of memorable French Statesmen, including Napoleon the first of them
all; to our own WASHINGTON, HAMILTON, JEFFERSON, and
MADISON; to our two CLINTONS, TOMPKINS, to say nothing of
the eagle-eyed and genial-hearted LIVINGmaster-spirit* of our
time. The opinions and the arguments of all these are on
record; it is by hearkening to and heeding their counsels that
we shall be prepared to walk in the light of experience and
look forward to a glorious National destiny. My friends! I
dare not detain you longer. I commit to you the cause of
the Nation's Independence, of her Stability and her Prosperity.
Guard it wisely and shield it well; for it involves your own
happiness and the enduring welfare of your countrymen!
* Henry Clay.
553 
SUNDRY LECTURING REMINISCENCES.
A DAY'S RIDE IN MAINE.
AUGUSTA, MAINE, March 24, 1849.
THREE days had glided away rapidly, and pleasantly,
and not very idly, among the heartiest of friends in
Bangor, - days bright as Italy, and pure as the breath of
mountains. The still abundant snow gradually melted into
the rivulets from the streets, the adjacent roads, and the
southern exposures, in the beams of the ascendant sun; but
tire nights were crisp and bracing, and the frequent appearance of lighter sleighs in the streets bespoke the obstinacy
with which Winter's fleecy mantle still held its ground in the
surrounding country.   The ice still bound  the Penobscot
nearly to Frankfort, fourteen miles below; holding the business of Bangor and vicinity in its rugged embrace, and even
tempting the foolhardy to travel with teams on its now
treacherous surface.   But on Tuesday the clear azure of
several preceding days was gradually obscured by the portents
of a coming storm, which, in the course of the following night,
became quite unequivocal, and the pattering of rain on the
roof of the Hatch House through the small hours gave premonition of a moist ride to Waterville on the morrow. It
was not, however, till the stage-coach (a naked, open wag,on)
drew up at the door, between six and seven in the morning
(Wednesday, 21st), that the fun of it became entirely palpable.
The wind came strong from the southwest; the skies were
black, the rain was coming faster and faster; in short, a
Down-East Equinoctial was upon us.
a 
A DAY'S RIDE IN MAINE.
There were six of us passengers, not forgetting the driver,
the best roadsman of all, whom no obstacle could daunt and
no botheration disconcert, and who, protected in part by his
rubber over-all, looked the day's driving wind and driven
rain in the face with buoyant philosophy. The six amused
themselves, when they could stay in the wagon, by turning a
part. of the water from one to the other by means of four
umbrellas, which would have been of some account had not
the course of the descending fluid been so greatly deflected
from the perpendicular by the sweeping gale, and had there
not been entirely too much of it. Even as it was, the man
in a red-flannel shirt and  glazed outer garments,  who
occupied the most sheltered position (leeward of the umbrellas), and seemed to have been taught by some bird the
secret of oiling himself, contrived to maintain a comparatively
dry look to the end.
Ten miles - mainly of mnud- had slid rapidly and merrily
behind us, before we encountered the first formidable snowdrift still occupying the road, over which hundreds of teams
had travelled securely for weeks, but into which, softened by
the rain, ours plunged, and in it wallowed. The next moment,
the leaders were down in a tangled pile; the off one rolled
clear over the nigh one, and was extricated, and got up on
the near side.   The passengers (the heaviest having been
thrown out rather suddenly as we came to a halt, the wagon
barely not upsetting) walked ahead in quest of help and
shelter; (perhaps it did n't pour!) the wheel-horses were also
taken off, and four oxen obtained to draw the wagon out of
the drift, and on to the changing-place, not far distant.
Soon, all were on board again, -all as good as before,
except that the buffaloes were wet on both sides, and the
seats had rather a clammy feeling; and we went on merrily
as ever- meeting few decided obstacles for the next twelve
miles- to the second changing-place (North Dixmont).
So far, we had made good time, in spite of wind and weather.
"And now," said the driver, "you may expect to see some
bad going." The testimony was confirmed by others, but
555 
MISCELLANIES.
we did not need their assurance. Two miles more were got
over pretty well, one bad place being avoided by letting
down the fence, and making a detour through the field; but
soon we were brought to a dead halt again.   The horses
were floundering in a rather profound drift; the wagon was
"stuck"; and no resource remained but to beat up the
neighborhood for oxen to draw it on, while the passengers
went ahead in quest of dinner. The portliest of the number
(weighing good two hundred), who had already twice taken
his own portrait by a flying-leap into a snow-drift, and had
received some severe contusions and a hard wrench in the
later operation, when he narrowly missed breaking a leg in
clearing the wagon, alone lingered behind to pick up some
bits of rides between the worst snow-drifts, of which, I think,
there were a hundred within that next two miles. Yet, the
wagon was, by six oxen, got through or around them somehow in a little more than two hours,- the horses following
behind, and coming through with a beaten and sorry look. I
had no idea it could be done so soon by an hour.
Dinner (at Troy) in a hurry, and all aboard again; and henceforward to Waterville we were enabled to take the rain sitting
instead of walking for nearly all the time: Some drifts had to
be walked over, of course; some snow had to be shovelled
away from before the wheels; once or twice, we had to take
hold and help propel the wagon through a drift, that need
not have been so deep, so far as any practical utility was regarded in its construction; and twice more our solid friend
was half thrown, half jumped, into the snow-drifts, as the
wagon keeled up on one side, and seemed intent on going
over.  The last time, one arm went through the drift into
about two feet of coolish water, and he, already racked and
sore, was on the point of losing temper. The others were
more nimble, or, rather, more lucky; generally making a clean
jump, and alighting perpendicularly and right end up. Finally,
at 6 P. M., we drove rapidly into Waterville, - fifty good
miles from Bangor, - and found warm rooms and various
comforts awaiting us.  Lecturing that evening was a little
556 
A RIDE ACROSS THE ALLEGHANIES.
up hill; but, since the hearers did not audibly complain, I
sha' n't. I thought the village dancing-school at our hotel
ought to have  broken up at midnight, considering  that
some of us were to be called for the Augusta stage at 5 A. M.;
but the young folks seemed to enjoy it to a much later hour;
and, if their parents don't object, I probably should be quiet.
Still, I do say that dancing- which ought to be a healthful,
innocent, and approved recreation for all- is made unpopular
with the grave and devout by the outrageously late hours
to which mere infants in years are kept up by it, in hot and
crowded rooms, whence they are suddenly transferred, when
utterly exhausted, to the outdoor cold and their fireless homes.
It was not the creaking of that fiddle, the heavy pounding of
unskilled feet on the ball-room floor, and the annoying rattle
of my door-latch in consequence, till some time this morning,
that put this into my head; but these served to confirm me
in my earlier conviction.
A RIDE ACROSS THE ALLEGHANIES.
WASHINGTON, Monday, December 3, 1851.
IT was 10 o'clock on Saturday morning when our steamboat reached Wheeling, in two days from Cincinnati. That
was a bad sample of Western steamboat management.  I had
promised at home to be here the evening before the Session
opened;,and it was essential that I should be punctual. I
ought to have stopped but one day instead of two at Cincinnati. I ought to have travelled by land from that city, and
so been at Wheeling six hours sooner.  The boat ought to,
and might have been there some hours earlier. But here it
was 10 o'clock, and the stages to connect at Cumberland with
the Baltimore and Ohio train next morning had all been gone
some four hours.  No other train would leave Cumberland
till Monday morning, - twenty-four hours later. I jumped
ashore with my baggage, and sped to the stage-office.  One
557 
MISCELLANIES.
of the Members of Congress, for self and company, got there
at the same moment, and spoke: "Can you send us through
to Cumberland in time for to-morrow's train?"  " No, sir, it
is too late."  The Congressman returned to report progress.
Not comprehending the impossibility of driving 193 miles in
22 hours, even over a hilly road, with relays of good horses
every ten or twelve miles, I hung on, and had the resident
proprietor summoned. I put the question to him, varied as
follows: "WVill money put us  through to Cumberland in
time for to-morrow's  cars?"  "Yes, money will, -  money
enough."  "How much?"  "If five of you will pay for a full
stage (nine seats) and twenty dollars extra, you shall be
taken through." I hurried down to the boat in search of the
Congressmen, but looked it over without finding them. At
last, I discovered one of the Senators: " Mr. R., call your
friends; we can be taken to Cumberland in season, for about
twenty dollars each."
He would not listen,- said it could not be done, -  he had
tried it once, and failed, (I suspect he did not try the extra
price, "No cure, no pay.") He turned away, and the boat
put off. I went back to the stage-office alone. "Mr. S., what
is your price for taking me through to Cumberland in season?"  "Regular fare to Baltimore, eleven dollars; forty
dollars extra for gaining time, -in all, $ 51." I put down
the change, and he got up his horses. In ten minutes we
were on the road. The gentleman who drove stands at thf
head of his profession. He understood, by experience or instinct, that the perfection of driving is not to seem or need to
drive at all.  By a slight and easy motion.of his wrist, he
thridded his way through a drove of cattle, around a carriage,
and among the piles of broken or to be broken stone everywhere enlcumbering the road, now on one side, then on the
other, and again in the middle or on both.  He knew just
when to hold in, and when to let out, but seemed to do more
of the former than of the latter; hardly using a persuasion
to speed in the course of the'ride. He drove at no time over
eleven, nor under ten, miles per hour. The day was bright,
558 
A RIDE ACROSS THE ALLEGHANIES.
though cool; the air crisp and bracing. We had a light carriage, with fresh horses every ten to twelve miles.  Whatever
craft we espied ahead was sure to be hull down astern in tihe
course of five minutes. We drove sixty-two miles in a trifle
short of six hours, but lost nearly an hour more in making
changes, as we were not expected at the stations. It was
10.40 (Baltimore time) when we started. At half past 5 we
overhauled the Mail Stages half-way between Brownsville
and Uniontown, Pa., 62 miles from Wheeling.  I threw my
baggage upon one, and followed it; bidding a hearty farewell
to my driver, who turned back to Brownsville for the night,
on his way to Wheeling. We were in Uniontown to tea
15 minutes past 6; left at 7; and drove straight ahead over
the Alleghanies, only stopping to change or water, and making
the five changes in less than twenty minutes, all told. The
night was cold, and snow contrived to fall from about midnight, though less profusely than on the plains this side. I
think the cold prevented. But each stage was just full of
passengers, and little discomfort was felt from the cold. I
don't consider riding through a cold night without a halt the
summit of human felicity; but it does very well, if you don't
waste your time and strength in trying to go to sleep. That
is absurd. We drove into Cumberland at 7 A. M.; had breakfast, and abundant time for outward renovation, before the
cars started at half past 8. The storm continued through the
day, changing from snow to sleety hail and almost rain
as we neared the coast. We met with a bad accident at 4 P. M.,
-when 45 miles from Baltimore, our snow-scraper catching
against some part of the track, so that it was broken and
turned uinder the forward engine, which was thrown off the
track, and the one behind it partly followed the example.
Both were disabled and considerably injured. Happily, we
had still a third engine, pushing behind, which was detached
and run back to Frederick for help to clear away the wreck
and mend the track, which had been toirn up by our disaster.
After four hours' delay, we got under headway again, but
came on very slowly, and only made the Relay House at
559 
MISCELLANIES.
11 P. m., - too late for any chance to reach this city till
morning. But we were in here before 9 A. M., three hours
before Congress convened, and in ample season to look into
whatever was going on. Governor Brown of Mississippi,
whom I left on the boat at Wheeling, incredulous as to the
practicability of getting through to Cumberland in season,
was of course not here to vote for his friend, Howell Cobb,
when even one vote was no slight consideration. I presume
he is in, via Pittsburg, to-night.
A NIGHT-RIDE ACROSS THE PRAIRIES.
SOUTH BEND, INDIANA, October 18, 1853.
I LEFT New York on Monday morning of last week, reached
Lafayette, via Erie Railroad, Buffalo City, the steamboat
Queen of the West to Cleveland, and the railroad thence by
G&lion, Bellefontaine, and Indianapolis, at noon on Wednesday. HIaving given the residue of that day and all the next
to the State Agricultural Fair, and fulfilled the engagement
that drew me to Indiana, I returned to Indianapolis on
Friday morning, spoke there in the evening, and started back
via Lafayette, on Saturday morning, to fulfil a promise to
speak on the evening of that day at Laporte, where I should
reach the Northern Indiana and Southern Michigan Road,
and set my face homeward. How we were delayed on our
way back to Lafayette, and how, on reaching that smart
young village, I was misled, by the kind guidance of a zealous
friend, into waiting for the Northern cars at a place half a
mile distant from that where they then actually were; how
I at last broke over all assurances that they always started
from this point, and must come here before leaving, and made
for their out-of-the-way station just in time to be too late, 
it were a fruitless vexation to recall. Suffice it that at noon
I stood on the platform where I might and should have been
twenty minutes before, just in time to see the line of smoke
560 
A NIGHT-RIDE ACROSS THE PRAIRIES.
hovering over the rapidly receding train, to realize that any
seasonable fulfilment of my promise  to Laporte was  now
impossible, and to learn that the next regular train would
leave on MJonday, and take me to Laporte just two days after
I should have been there.  I wandered back to the village,
in no enviable mood, to telegraph my mishap to Laporte, and
had the privilege of cooling my heels for an hour and a
quarter on the steps of the office, while the operators were
leisurely discussing and digesting their dinner. They came
at last, just too late to enable me to stop the sending of a
carriage eleven miles from Laporte to meet me at Westville;
and I retraced my steps to the out-of-town depot, to see what
chance remained or might turn up.
As quite a number had been deceived and left as I was,
owing to the recent change in railroad arrangements, the
agent said he would send out an extra train that afternoon, if
he could procure an engine; but none came in that could be
spared, and at four o'clock our extra train was adjourned to
next morning at ten; and I returned to the telegraph office
to apprise Laporte that I would speak there for Temperance
the next (Sunday) evening, and then walked over to the
Bramble House, and laid in a stock of sleep for future conting,encies.
I was at the depot in ample season next morning; but the
train that was to start at ten did not actually leave till noon,
and then with a body entirely disproportioned to its head.
Five cars closely packed with live hogs, five ditto with wheat,
two ditto with lumber, three or four with live stock and
notions returning from the Fair, and two or three cattle-cars
containing passengers, formed entirely too heavy a load for
our asthmatic engine, which had obviously seen its best days
in the service of other roads, before that from New Albany
t o        Michigan City was constructed.   Still, we went ahead;
crossed the Wabash; passed the Tippecanoe Battle-ground;
ran our engine partly off the track, and got it back again;
and by three o'clock had reached Brookston, a station fourteen miles from Lafayette, with a fair prospect of travers
36
561 
MISCELLANIES.
ing  our whole ninety-odd miles by the dawn of Monday
morning.
But here we came to a long halt. The engine was in
want of both wood and water; and, though woods and sloughs
were in sight in various directions, neither were accessible.
So our engine was detached, and ran ahead some five miles
for water, and still farther for wood, and a weary two hours
were tediously whiled away before its return.
It came at last, hitched on, and started us; but, before it
had moved us another half-mile, the discharge-cock of the
boiler flew out, letting off all our water and steam, and rendering us hopelessly immovable for hours to come.
We got out to take an observation.  The village of Brookston consists of three houses  and  no barn, with a well
(almost dry) for the use of the railroad; but neither of the
houses is a tavern, nor more than one-story high; and their
aggregate of accommodation fell far short of the needs of the
hungry crowd so unexpectedly thrown upon their hospitality.
wo  or three more houses of like or inferior calibre were
gleaming in the rays of the setting sun at various distances
on the prairies; but these were already surfeited with railroad hands as boarders, not to speak of sick women or children in nearly every one; for disease has been very rife this
season on these prairies.  Still, a friend found an old acquaintance in one of the nearest residents, whose sick wife
spread a generous table forthwith for as many of us as could
sit around it; and, having supped, we turned out on the
prairie to make room for a family party, including two women, one of them quite sick,.- as she had been all the way up,
and at Lafayette for some days before. Our conductor had
started a hand-car back to Lafayette in quest of the only
engine there, - a weak, old one, needing some repairs before
it could be used. It was calculated that this engine would
be up about eleven o'clock, and would then drag us back to
Lafayette to spend the remainder of the night, and take a fair
start in the morning. This I, for one, had resolved not to
submit to, though the only alternative were a camp-fire on
the prairie.
562
I
0 
A NIGHT-RIDE ACROSS THE PRAIRIES.
But now a bright thought struck the engineer, for which
I think he was indebted to any good angel. Hie recollected
that a good engine was stationed at a point named Culvertown, forty-three miles ahead; and he decided to take a
hand-car and make for this, so that our bow should have two
strings to it. The hand-car was dragged over the rough
prairie around our long train, and launched, - I following with my carpet-bags, on the lookout for chances.  In a
trice, it was duly manned; I had coaxed my way to a seat
upon it; and we were off.
The full moon rose bright over the eastern woods as, with
the north star straight ahead, we bade adieu to the embryo
City of Brookston.
We were seven of us on the hand-car; four propelling by
twos, as if turning a heavy, two-handed grindstone; but we
let off one passenger after traversing a few miles. The engineer and I made up the party; and the car - about equal in
size to a wheelbarrow and a half-just managed to hold us
and give the propellers working-room. To economize space,
I sat a good part of the time facing backward, with my feet
hanging over the rear of the car, knocking here and there on
a tie or bridge-timber, and often tickled through my boots by
the coarse, rank weeds growing up at intervals between the
ties, and recently stiffened by the hard October frosts. As a
constant effort to hold on was required, the position was not
favorable to slumber, however it might be to cogitation. Our
Irish steam was evolved from Yankee muscles, and proved of
capital quality. We made our first five miles, heavily laden
as we were, in twenty-five minutes; our first ten miles in an
hour; but our propellers grew gradually weary; we stopped
twice or thrice for oil, water, and perhaps one other liquid;
so that we were five hours in making the forty-three miles,
or from 7 P. M. till midnight. I only tried my hand at propelling for a short mile, and that experience sufficed to convince me that, however it may be as a business, this species of exercise cannot be conscientiously commended as an
amusement. The night was chilly, though clear; the dead
563
4 
MISCELLANIES.
ahead breeze, though light, was keen, and I, by no means
dressed for such an airy ride, felt it most sensibly.
Our course lay across the east end of Grand Prairie, which
stretches westward from the bank of the Wabash across Indiana and Illinois, to the Mississippi, and thence through Iowa
and Nebraska, perhaps to Council Bluffs and the Rocky
Mountains. The ground we traversed was nearly level, often
marshy, and for the most part clear of wood; but we frequently crossed belts or spurs, on higher, dryer soil, of the
great forest on our right, with occasional clumps of sturdy
oaks, - islets of timber in the prairie sea, - to which the
belts aforesaid served as promontories.  Four prairie-fires,
two on either hand, - at intervals of miles, burned brightly
but lazily; for the wind was not strong enough, nor the vegetation dry and crisp enough, to impel a rapid, roaring, sweeping fire.
Now a flock of geese flew by, murmuring subduedly; then
a great heron rose before us, and flew heavily over the
marshes; an opossum was frightened by our noisy approach,
and fled eagerly into the prairie, under an evident mistake as
to the nature of our business; and again an odorous skunk,
keeping his carcass unseen, gave pungent evidence of his
close proximity. Finally, a little after midnight, chilled and
weary, we reached the one-horse village of Culvertown, and
found the engine missing, -run down to Michigan City for
repairs, - so that my companions had had their rugged ride
for nothing. The landlady of the only house in sight got up
and made a fire; the engineer decided to await the return
of the fugitive engine; and I began to drum up the means of
farther conveyance; for I was still twenty-odd miles from
any public conveyance that would speed me on my way.
Horses, I learned, were not easily to be had; and, even if I
had a team, the roads across the great marsh and small river
just north of us were rather shy. But the engineer lent me
the hand-car which had already done such good service, and
I evoked from slumber two Dutchmen, who were persuaded
to act as my crew; and by 1 A. M. I was again under head
564
0 
A NIGHT-RIDE ACROSS THE PRAIRIES.
way northward; the air keener, and I more vulnerable to its
assaults in my loneliness, than when six of us were so closely
huddled together. But my Dutchmen propelled with a will,
and my good craft sped briskly onward.
From Culvertown, a prairie-marsh stretches thirteen miles
northward, and I think no building, and hardly a cultivated
acre, were visible through all that distance. The dense fog,
beaten down by the cool air, lay low on this marsh, and was
heavily charged with prairie-smoke for a part of the way.
Three miles from C., we crossed, on a pokerish bridge of naked
timbers, the slough-like bed wherein the Kankakee oozes and
creeps sluggishly westward to join the Fox and form the
Illinois. They say the Kankakee has a rapid current, and
dry, inviting banks, from the point where it crosses the Illinois
line, which might tempt one to regret that it did not cross
that line forty miles higher up. Happily, the keen air had
done for the mosquitoes, so that we had no more music than
I had fairly bargained for; but Bunyan might have improved
his description of the Slough of Despond had he been favored
with a vision of the Kankakee marshes. At 4 A.M., my good
craft brought up at Westville, and I was gratified by the sight
of half a dozen houses at once for the first time since leaving
Lafayette, seventy-eight miles below. I doubt that all the
houses visible on that seventy-eight miles Would amount to a
hundred; and I am sure they would be dear at two hundred
dollars each, on the average.  Yet there are much fine timber
and excellent land on that route, and he who passes over the
railroad ten years hence will see a very different state of
things. If efficient plans of drainage can but be devised and
executed, that region will yet be one of the most productive
in the world. Still, the financiering which conjured up the
means of building that New Albany and Michigan City PRailroad is worthy of a brazen monument. At Westville, I was
but eleven miles from Laporte, and four from the crossing of
the great Northern Indiana Ptoad from Chicago: so, having
accomplished sixty-four miles by hand-car since dark, and
arrived within striking distance of a civilized railroad, I went
565 
MiSCELLANIES.
to bed till breakfast-time; took passage by wagon at 7; was
in Laporte by 9; spoke for Temperance at 1; took the railroad at 3; and came here to fulfil my engagement to lecture
last evening; and thus, having reopened my communications,
I close this hurried account of A Night Ride Across the
Prairies.
A WINTER FLOOD IN ILLINOIS.
GALESBURG, ILLINOIS, February 7, 1857.
I LEFT the train from Chicago on this (the Burlington) Road
at 7 A.M. yesterday at "Oquawka Junction," the last station
this side of the Mississippi, and took the stage in due season
for Oquawka (521 miles north), on the bank of the great river,
and the shire town of Henderson County. It had been raining and thawing for a day or so hereabout; and, though
there was little snow to melt, the hard-frozen earth threw off
the water like a glass roof. The creeks were all over their
banks, wandering at their own sweet will,   " South Henderson," "Main  Henderson," and "North  Henderson" vying
with each other in encroachments on the people's highway,
and all the "sloughs" and depressions transformed into temporary lakes; but our stage crossed them all safely, - there
being a solid frost bottom to each,- and reached Oquawka
in due season.
But the rain poured harder as the day wore on, and the
evening was as inclement and forbidding as could well be
imagined.  I said my say to a rather thin house, -yet a
large gathering for such a night,- and then looked about for
the means of making good my promise to be in Galesburg
(only 33 miles distant, 27 of it railroad) this evening.
The prospect was not cheering. The rain was pouring, the
wind howling, and the creeks rising. Already, the stage had
been stopped by the creeks on its evening trip to the cars;
and it was plain that to wait till morning was to prolong my
stay indefinitely. Now, Oquawka is a nice place, as its melli
566 
A WINTER FLOOD IN ILLINOIS.
fluous name would indicate, and has many excellent people
whose acquaintance I should have been glad to improve;
but the telegraph is not among its advantages, and I could
not let the people of Galesburg, and other towns to which I
was due, know what had become of me, nor why I disappointed them; so I resolved to dig out, if possible; and, as
the creeks were still rising rapidly, the only course was to
start at once. A council of wise friends decided that I could
not reach Oquawka Junction, if I were ever so bent upon it,
and should find no train there if I did; and that the only
hopeful course was to take the highest or eastern road, and
steer for Monmouth (half-way to Galesburg) at once. By
taking this course, I should turn several vicious creeks, leaving only "Main Henderson" really formidable.  So a buggy
and capital span were procured from a livery-stable, with
their shrewd and capable. owner as pilot, and, at a little past
10 o'clock, we put out into the storm, resolved to see Monmouth (18 miles, by our route) before daylight, if possible.
Thouigh the clouds were thick, the wind blew, and the rain
poured, there was a good moon above all, which, though obscured, gave about all the light that was really necessary.
Though Oquawka is built on the sand, we crossed wide
stretches of water before we had cleared it; and, of the miles
of high sand-ridge that intervened between it and "Main
Henderson," I judge that fully a fourth lay under water.
Still, hoofs and wheels brought up on frost; and it was not
till we descended into the bottom of "Main Henderson" that
matters began to wear a serious aspect.
Forty rods west of the ordinary channel of the creek, we
plunged into the water, which grew gradually deeper, until
our boots and baggage had drunk of it to satiety. Just at
this point, the driver's quick and wary eye caught sight of
some plank or timber which had formed part of a bridge over
one of the ordinary side-cuts of the stream when over its
bank;- said plank or timber-head being even with the surface of the flood, with such an angle of inclination as indicated that the bridge was a wreck, and had probably in good
567 
MISCELLANIES.
part floated off.  He reined up his horses before reaching it,
and turned them face about, and in a minute we were halfway back,-not to dry, but to unflooded land.  Here we took
sweet counsel together, and I offered to return to Oquawka if
he considered it foolhardy to persist', in going forward. He
studied a moment, and concluded to make another attempt;
which he did, and went through above the treacherous bridge,
though I don't believe any man could have done it two hours
later. We were soon in shallower water, found the main
-bridge all right, and no deep water east of it, though "Smith's
Creek" (a tributary which enters "Main  Henderson" just
below the bridge) set back upon and covered our road with a
swift current for perhaps a quarter of a mile. The driver was
familiar with the road, and thought it had never been so
covered before. Soon, however, we ascended a long, badly
gullied hill of the very worst clay, and breathed more freely
on. the high, level prairie, covered in good part with water,
and not pretty wheeling, but never threatening to float us
bodily off, like that raving "Main Henderson."
Having reached "Stringtown," five or six miles on our way,
the driver called up a wayside friend, and borrowed dry socks,
while I made researches in my baggage for a like creaturecomfort, but with very unsatisfactory results. "Main Henderson" had been there before me, and had made everything
fit for his wear, and unfit for mine. I closed valise and
leathern bag with a shiver, and we resumed our weary way.
I do like the prairies, though their admirers won't admit it;
and I cheerfully. certify that thie best going we found was on
the virgin turf.  True, the " sloughs" were many and wide;
yet, there was frost and ice at the bottom of them, which
seldom cut through; but, whenever it did, it gave horses,
buggy, and riders, a racking. My pilot picked our way with
great judgment, and we were nevermore stopped, and hardly
checked, until we came out on the main road westward rom
Monmouth, three miles distant.
That three miles of dense prairie was the heaviest travelling
I ever underwent; And, if our jaded horses traversed it in an
568 
A WINTER FLOOD IN ILLINOIS.
hour and a quartor, they did passing well. On the naked
prairie, we felt little anxiety; for, if the slough seemed too
deep straight ahead, we could sheer right or left ad  libitum,
only taking care to keep some landmark in view, if possible.
But roads imply bridges over the water-courses; and these
bridges were far more perilous than the water-courses themselves.
Still the wind blew, still the rain fell, in spite of our repeated predictions that it would soon hold up; and still our
horses plodded slowly onward, until those three miles seemed
to me interminable. Our main business was to watch the
bridges just ahead, and see that they had not been washed
out; and they generally seemed to stand remarkably well. At
last, Monmouth was in sight; the last bridge was passed; no,
not the last, for our horses were in a deep gully this instant.
A second more, and they sprang out, and jerked the buggy
in with a crash that is still audible. The nigh fore-wheel
snapped its tire, and went down, an armful of oven-wood; the
tongue split, but held on, and the' driver was pitched across
my knees head downward into the deep mortar-bed termed
the road. I went forward on my face, but clung to the wreck,
with my feet entangled in apron and blankets; and, as the
horses started to run, the look ahead for an instant was not
flattering.
Only for an instant, however.  The idea of running with
that wreck through such mud, after a heavy night-drag of eighteen miles, was so essentially ridiculous that no well-bred horse
could have entertained it. Ours perceived this instinctively,
and soon slacked up, while the driver recovered his feet and
his reins, if lie had ever fully lost the latter. I cannot say how
I came out of the dilapidated vehicle, nor could the driver give
me any light on the subject; but I soon found myself resum ing the perpendicular, and facing rearward in quest of my
hat, which I found- in a wayside pond several rods back, two
thirds full of water, but still floating. My blanket I fished
out of the semi-liquid mud about midway between my goal
and my starting-point, and, for the first time on my journey,
found its company disagreeable.
569 
MISCELLANIES.
Men never know when they are well off. Five minutes
before, I had been industriously cherishing my cold, wet feet,
fencing off the driving rain, and fancying myself an object of
just compassion; now, I saw clearly that, so long as the carriage remained sound, I had been in an enviable state of ease
and enjoyment. Throwing my soiled blanket over one arm,
and taking my valise in the opposite hand, I pulled one foot
after another out of the deep, tarry mud, losing both my wellfastened overshoes therein without knowing it, and pushed
through to a tavern at the rate of a mile and a half per hour,
in a state of general bedragglement and desperate jollity
which Mark Tapley could not have bettered.
It was 4 A.M. when a hospitable roof overshadowed us.
The house was full, and my petition for a pair of slippers, and
a room with a fire in it, could not be granted. But a barroom fire was got up, and a bed in due time provided, though
a -ball that night in the village - no, city - had absorbed
most of the accommodations. But our noble horses found
what they needed, and we had an hour's sleep or more, though
I -did not incline to sleep at all. I got up to breakfast, and
to find all as I expected about the railroad. The Chicago
night-train went down nearly on time, but did not reach
Oquawka Junction, finding the track all washed out at the
crossing of "South Henderson," ten miles below.   But its
engine came back about 9 A.M., took on board half a dozen of
us, and backed up to Galesburg (seventeen miles) in less
than an hour; saving me another dreaded carriage-ride of at
least six hours. We crossed one washed-out place, which
threatened to throw us off, but did not. I guess I am the
last person who will have left Oquawka for several days, and
suspect Burlington (Iowa) has parted company with the world
eastward of the Mississippi for at least as many.
MORAL.-  We are none of us half grateful enough for the
blessings of railroads, - when the trains run, and the cars
don't fly the track.
570 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
A DISCUSSION BETWEEN HORACE GREELEY AND ROBERT DALE OWEN.
DIVORCE.-WOMAN'S RIGHTS.*
UR   Legislature is again importuned to try its hand at
,increasing the facilities of divorce.  We trust it will
ponder long and carefully before it consents. That many persons are badly mated is true; but that is not the law's fault.
The law of our State says plainly to all the unmarried, " Be
very careful how you marry; for a mistake in this regard is
irrevocable. The law does not constrain you to marry, does
not hurry you to marry, but bids you be first sure that you
know intimately and love devotedly the person with whom
you form this irrevocable union. We rectify no mistakes; it
rests with you not to make any. If you do, bear the penalty
as you ought, and do not seek to transfer it to the shoulders of
the community." And this, we think, is, in the broad view,
right, though in special cases it involves hardship.
The paradise of free-lovers is the State of Indiana, where
the lax principles of Robert Dale Owen, and the utter want
of principle of John Pettit (leading revisers of the laws),
combined to establish, some years since, a state of law which
enables men or women to get unmarried nearly at pleasure.
A legal friend in that State recently remarked to us, that, at
one County Court, he obtained eleven divorces one day before
dinner; "and it was n't a good morning for divorces either."
In one case within his knowledge, a prominent citizen of an
Eastern manufacturing city came to Indiana, went through
* Editorial in The Tribune of March 1, 1860. 
MISCELLANIES.
the usual routine, obtained his divorce about dinner-time,
and, in the course of the evening was married to his new
inamorata, who had come on for the purpose, and -as staying
at the same hotel with him.  They soon started for home,
having no more use for the State of Indiana; and, on arriving,
he introduced his new wife to her astonished predecessor,
whom he notified that she must pack up and go, as there was
no room for her in that house any longer. So she went.
iHow many want such facility of divorcing in New York?
We trust-not one in a hundred. If we are right in this judgment, let the ninety-nine make themselves heard at Albany
as well as the one. The discontented are always active; the
contented ought not to sleep evermore.
We favor whatever may be done tmitigate the hardships
endured by mismated persons in perfect consistency with the
maintenance of the sanctity and perpetuity of Marriage.
Cases are constantly occurring in which a virtuous and worthy girl persists in marrying a dissolute scapegrace, in spite
of the most conclusive demonstrations of his worthlessness.
Five years hence, when he has become a miserable loafer and
sot, she will wish herself divorced from him; but the law
says No, and we stand by it. But the law ought to allow her
to earn for herself and her little ones, and not enable him to
appropriate and squander her few hard-won shillings. This is
asked for, and ought to be granted. So the law should allow
the woman who is living wholly separate from her husband, by reason of his brutality, cruelty, or profligacy, to have
the same control over her property and earnings as if she had
never married. This is not how the case. Nay; we know
an instance in which a woman, long since separated from her
worthless husband, and trying hard to earn a meagre living
for their children, was disabled and crippled by a railroad
accident; yet the law gives her no right of action against the
culpable company; her broken ankles are legally her runaway husband's, not her own; and he would probably sell
them outright for a gallon of good brandy, and let the company finish the job of breaking them at its convenience.
572 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
We heartily approve of such changes in our laws as would
make this deserted wife the legal owner of her own ankles;
but we would not dissolve the marriage obligation to constancy
for any'other cause than that recognized as sufficient by
Jesus Christ.
MR. OWEN'S RESPONSE.*
To TEE EDITOR OF TEE NEW YORK TRIBUNE:  SIR: Retired from political life, and now disposed to address the public, if at all, through a calmer medium than the
columns of a daily paper, still, I cannot read the allusion in
this morning's Tribune made in connection with an important subject, to my adopted State and to myself by name,
without feeling that justice to both, and, what is of more consequence, the fair statement of a question involving much of
human morality and happiness, require of me a few words.
You say: -
"The Paradise of free-lovers is the State of Indiana, where the
lax principles of Robert Dale Owen, and the utter want of principle of John Pettit (leading revisers of the laws), combined to
establish, some years since, a state of law which enables men and
women to get unmarried nearly at pleasure."
You are usually, I think, correct in your statements of
fact, and doubtless always intend to be so. That in this endeavor you sometimes fail, we have a proof to-day.
So far as I recollect, the Indiana law of divorce does not
owe a single section to Mr. Pettit. Be that, however, as it
may, it owes one of its provisions, and one only, to me. I
found that law thirty-four years ago, when I first became a
resident of the State, in substance nearly what it now is; indeed, with all its essential features the same. It was once
referred to myself, in conjunction with another member of the
Legislature, for revision; and we amended it in a single
point; namely, by adding to the causes of divorce "habit              * From The Tribune of March 5, 1860.
573 
}7~ISCELLANIES.
ual drunkenness for two years." In no other particular,
either by vote or proposition, have I been instrumental in
framing or amending  the law in question, directly or indirectly.
Do not imagine, however, that I seek to avoid any responsibility in regard to that law as it stands. I cordially approve it. It has stood the test for forty or fifty years among a
people whom, if you knew them us intimately as I do, candor
would compel you to admit to be, according to the strictest
standard of morality you may set up, not one whit behind
those of sister States, perhaps of more pretensions. I approve
the law, not on principle only, but because, for more  than
half a lifetime, I have witnessed its practical workings. I
speak of its influence on our own ciZens.  It is much to be
regretted that any one should ever ]6  compelled to seek a
divorce out of his own State. But, even in alluding to abuses
which have occurred in this connection, you failed to tell
your readers, what perhaps you did not know, that our law
has of late years been so changed that the cases you state
cannot possibly recur.  No one can now sue for a divorce in
Indiana, until he has been during one year, at least, a resident
of the State; and the provision regarding timely notice to the
absent party is of the strictest kind.
You speak of Indiana as "the Paradise of free-lovers." It
is in New York and New England, refusing reasonable divorce,
that free-love prevails; not in Indiana. I never even heard
the name  there.   You  locate the Paradise, then,  too far
west.
And does it not occur to you, when a million of men,
chiefly plain, hardy, industrious farmers, with wives whom,
after the homely old fashion, they love, ant  daughters whose
chastity and happiness are as dear to them as if their homes
were the wealthiest in the land, - does it not occur to Horace
Greeley that, when these men go on deliberately for half a
century maintaining unchanged (or, if changed at all, made
more liberal) a law of divorce which he denounces as breeding disorder and immorality, - that the million, with their
574 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
long experience, may be right, and that Horace Greeley, without that experience, may be wrong,?
You talk of my "lax principles." I think that, by my
past life, I have earned the right to be believed when I say
what are my principles and what are not.
On this subject, they go just so far as the Indiana law, and
no further. I have given proof of this. I have had a hundred opportunities, and never used them, to move its amendment.   I was chairman of the Revision Committee of our
Constituional Convention; but in our Constitution we incorporated nothing in regard to divorce, except a prohibition
against all divorces by the Legislature. To that, I think you
will not object. At the next session, I was chairman of the
committee to revise thelaws; but we merely ree6nacted the
old divorce law, of -which experience had taught us the benefits. It grants divorce for other causes than the one your law
selects,- as for abandonment; for cruel treatment; for habitual drunkenness; and for any other cause for which the court
may deem it proper that a divorce should be granted.
Are these "lax principles "?  I claim to have them judged
according to a Christian rule.  "By their fruits ye shall know
them." You have elopements, adultery, which your law, by
rendering it indispensable to release, virtually encourages;
you have free-love, and that most terrible of all social evils,
prostitution. We, instead, have regulated, legal separations.
You may feel disposed to thank God that you are not as
other men, or even as these Indianians. I think that we are
justified in His sight, rather than you.
Or is it, perhaps, the amendment I did propose and carry
which seems to you lax in principle?- the provision,
namnely, that a wife should not be compelled to live with one
who has been, for years, an habitual drunkard. You have told
us that she ought to be so compelled. It constantly occurs,
you say, that a "virtuous and worthy girl" marries a man
who "becomes a miserable loafer and sot"; and you add:
"She will wish herself divorced from him; but the law says
No, and we stand to it."
575 
MISCELLANIES.
Think, for a moment, what this actually involves! Let us
take the "single captive," lest the multiplicity of images distract us.  See the young creature, "virtuous and worthy,"
awaiting, late in the solitary night, the fate to which, for life,
you consign her; and that for no sin more heinous than that
her girl's heart, believing in human goodness, had trusted the
vows and promises of a scoundrel. Is it her home where she
is sitting? Let us not so desecrate the hallowed word. It is
the den of her sufferings and of her shame. A bloated
wretch, whom daily and nightly debauch has degraded below
humanity, has the right to enter it. In what temper he will
arrive, God alone knows,-  all the animal within him, probably, aroused by drink.  Will he beat her,-the mother of his
children, the one he has sworn to lope and protect? Likely
enough.  Ah! well if that be all!  The scourge, though its
strokes may cause the flesh to shudder, cannot reach the souL
But the possible outrages of this "miserable loafer and sot"
may. He has the command of torments, legally permitted, far
beyond those of the lash. That bedchamber is his, and the
bed is the beast's own lair. It depends, too, on the brute's
drunken will whether it shall be shared or not. Caliban is
lord and master, by legal right.  There is not a womanly instinct that he cannot outrage; not a holy emotion that he
may not profane.   Hie is authorized to commit what more
resembles an infamous crime - usually rated second to murder, and often punished with death- than anything else.
-And in this foul pit of degradation you would leave to a
fate too horrible for infamy itself, a pure, gentle, blameless,
Christian wife! Her cry thence may ascend to heaven; but,
on earth, you think it should be stifled or contemned. She
entreats for relief, - for escape from the pollution she abhors; you look down upon her misery, and answer her, "The
law says No, and we stand to it."
God forgive you, Horace Greeley, the inhuman sentiment!
I believe you to be a good man, desiring human improvement,
the friend of what you deem essential to social morality.
God send that you may never, in the person of a daughter
576 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
of your own, and in the recital of her tortures, practically
learn the terrible lesson how far you have strayed from the
right!
Further to argue the general question would be an unwarrantable intrusion on your columns. Suffice it to say, that, if
l differ from you as to the expediency of occasionally dissolving misery-bringing unions, it is precisely because I regard
the marriage relation as the holiest of earthly institutions.
It is for that very reason that I seek to preserve its purity,
when other expedients fail, by the besom of divorce. No
human relation ought to be suffered so to degenerate that it
defeats the purpose of its institution. God imposes no laws
on man merely to have the pleasure of seeing them obeyed;
but, on the contrary, with special reference to His creatures'
welfare and improvement. Marriage itself, like the Sabbath,
was made for man; not man for marriage. It fulfils God's
intentions so long as the domestic home is the abode of purity, of noble sentiment, of loving-kindness, or, at least, of
mutual forbearance. But it defeats His purpose, and violates
the Divine economy, when it becomes the daily cause of grievous words and heartless deeds,- of anger, strifes, selfishness,
cruelty, ruffianism.   That it should ever be thus  degraded
and perverted, all good men must lament;  and all ought
earnestly to seek the most effectual remedy.
In no country have I found the marriage obligation so
little binding as in the nation * near whose court, as minister, I recently spent five years,- a country where Marriage
is a sacrament and Divorce an impossibility;  and where,
indeed, on account of their "lax principles," the inhabitants neither need nor care for it.  In no country have I
seen marriage and its vows more strictly respected than in
my  adopted  State, where  the relation, when  it engenders
immorality, may be terminated by law. For the rest, divorces
in Indiana are far less frequent than strangers, reading our
divorce law, might be led to imagine. We find Jefferson's
words to be as true of married persons as of the rest of man
* Naples.
87
577 
kind. They "are more disposed to suffer while evils are
sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms
to which they have been accustomed."
The question remains, whether it be more pleasing in the
sight of God, and more conducive to virtue in man, to part
decently in peace, or to live on in shameful discord.
I am, sir, your obedient servant,
ROBERT DALE OWEN.
NEW YORK, March 1, 1860.
REPLY BY MR. GREELEY.*
To THE HON. ROBERT DALE OWEN, OF INDIANA:
MY DEAR SIR: I had not expected to provoke your letter
this day published; but the subject is one of the highest
and widest importance, and I am very willing to aid in its
farther elucidation.
I do not think the issues of fact raised by you need long
detain us. The country knows that you have for the last
thirty years and more been a leading member of the generally
dominant party in Indiana,- almost  the only member who
could with propriety be termed a political philosopher.  As
such, you have naturally exerted a very great influence over
the legislation and internal policy of that State. Often a
member of her Legislature as well as of Congress, and one of
the revisers of her laws, you admit that the Law of Marriage
and Divorce came at one time directly and distinctly under
review before you, and that you ingrafted thereon a provision adding another - habitual drunkenness- to the preexisting grounds on which divorce might legally be granted.
As to "lax principles," I need not say more than that I
cite your letter now before me as a sample and illustration.
But let me brush away one cobweb of your brain. You
picture the case of a pure and gentle woman exposed to the
* From The Tribune of March 6, 1860.
578
MISCELLANIES.
I 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
brutalities and cruelties of a beastly sot of a husband. For
such cases, our laws grant a separation from bed and board,
- not a disruption of the marriage tie, with liberty to marry
again.   I think this is just right.   I would not let loose
such a wretch as you have depicted to delude and torture
another "pure and virtuous girl." Let one victim suffice him.
Your reference to the "blameless Christian wife," and to
what is "more pleasing in the sight of God," impels me to
say that I must consider Jesus of Nazareth a better authority as to what is Christian and what pleases God than
you are.   His testimony on this point is express and unequivocal (Matt. xix. 9), that a marriage can be rightfully
dissolved because of adultery alone. You well know that
was not the law either of Jews or PRomans in his day; so
that he cannot have been misled by custom or tradition,
even were it possible for him to have been mistaken.   I
believe he was wholly right.
For what is Marriage? I mind the Apostolic injunction,
"Hold fast the form of sound words."  Dr. Webster's great
dictionary says:
"MARRIAGE: The act of uniting a man and woman for life;
wedlock; the legal union of a man and woman for life. Marriage
is a contract both civil and religious, by which the parties engage
to live together in mutual affection and fidelity till death shall
separate them."
So Worcester:
"MARRIAGE: the act of marrying, or uniting a man and woman
for life as husband and wife," &c., &c.
I surely need not quote to you the language of the maTriage ceremony,- the mutual and solemn promise to "take
each other for better, for worse," and "to live together till
.7death do part," &c., &c. You must be aware that the entire
Christian, and I think most of the partially civilized pagan
world, regard this solemn contract to cleave to each other till
,death as the very essence, the vital element, of Marriage.
Now it is not here necessary that I should prove this better
579 
MISCELLANIES.
than any possible substitute: suffice it that I insist that
whoever would recommend a substitute should clearly, specifically, set forth its nature and conditions, and should call
it by its distinctive name. There may be something better
than Marriage; but nothing is Marriage but a solemn engagement to live together in faith and love till death. Why
should not they, who have devised something better than
old-fashioned Marriage, give their bantling a distinctive name,
and not appropriate ours? They have been often enough
warned off our premises; shall we never be able to shame
them out of their unwarrantable poaching?
I am perfectly willing to see all social experiments tried
that any earnest, rational being deems calculated to promote
the well-being of the human family; but I insist that this
matter of Marriage and Divorce has passed beyond the reasonable scope of experiment.   The ground  has all been
travelled over and over:- from  Indissoluble Monogamic
Marriage down through Polygamy, Concubinage, easy Divorce,
to absolute Free Love, mankind have tried every possible
modification and shade of relation between Man and Woman.
If these multiform, protracted, diversified, infinitely repeated,
experiments have not established the superiority of the union
of one man to one woman for life- in short, Marriage-  to
all other forms of sexual relation, then History is a deluding
mist, and Man has hitherto lived in vain.
But you assert that the people of Indiana are emphatically
moral and chaste in their domestic relations. That may be;
at all events, I have not yet called it in question. Indiana
is yet a young State,- not so old as either you or I,- and
most of her adult population were born, and I think most of
them were reared and married, in States which teach and
maintain the Indissolubility of Marriage. That population is
yet sparse; the greater part of it in moderate circumstances,
engaged in rural industry, and but slightly exposed to the
temptations born of crowds, luxury, and idleness. In such
circumstances, continence would probably be general, even
were Marriage unknown.  But let Time and Change do their
580 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
work, and then see! Given the population of Italy in the
days of the Cesars, with easy divorce, and I believe the
result would be like that experienced by the Roman Republic,
which, under the sway of easy divorce, rotted away and
perished, -blasted by the mildew of unchaste mothers and
dissolute homes.
If experiments are to be tried in the direction you favor, I
insist that they shall be tried fairly, - not under cover of
false promises and baseless pretences. Let those who will
take each other on trial; but let such unions have a distinct
name as in Paris or Hiayti, and let us know just who are
married (old style), and who have formed unions to be maintained or terminated as circumstances shall dictate. Those
who choose the latter will of course consummate it without
benefit of clergy; but I do not see how they need even so
much ceremony as that of jumping the broomstick. "I'll
love you so long as I'm able, and swear for no longer than
this," - what need is there of any solemnity to hallow such
a union? What libertine would hesitate to promise that
much, even if fully resolved to decamp next morning? If
man and woman are to be true to each other only so long as
they shall each find constancy the dictate of their several
inclinations, there can be no such crime as adultery, and
mankind have too long been defrauded of innocent enjoyment
by priestly anathemas and ghostly maledictions.   Let us
each do what for the moment shall give us pleasurable sensations, and let all such fantasies as God, Duty, Conscience,
Retribution, Eternity, be banished to the moles and the bats,
with other forgotten rubbish of bygone ages of darkness and
unreal terrors.
But if- as I firmly believe- Marriage is a matter which
concerns not only the men and women who contract it, but
the State, the community, mankind, - if its object be not
merely the mutual gratification and advantage of the husband
and wife, but the due sustenance, nurture, and education of
their children, - if, in other words, those who  voluntarily
incur the obligations of parentage can only discharge those
581 
MISCELLANIES.
obligations personally and conjointly, and to that end are
bound to live together in love, at least until their youngest
child shall have attained perfect physical and intellectual
maturity,- then I deny that a marriage can be dissolved
save by death or that crime which alone renders its continuance impossible. I look beyond the special case to the general law, and to the reason which underlies that law; and I
say,-No couple can innocently take upon themselves the
obligations of Marriage until they KNOW that they are one in
spirit, and so must remain forever. If they rashly lay profane hands on the ark, theirs alone is the blame; be theirs
alone the penalty! They have no right to cast it on that
public which admonished and entreated them to forbear, but
admonished and entreated in vain.   Yours,
HORACE GREELEY.
NEW YORK, March 5, 1860.
MR. OWEN'S REJOINDER.*
To THE HON. HORACE GREELEY: -
MY DEAR SIR: In one matter we shall not differ, and that
is in the opinion that Jesus of Nazareth should be considered
better authority as to what is Christian - and I will add as
to what is conducive to public morals- than either.you or I.
The longer I live, the more I settle down to the conviction
that the one great miracle of history is, that a system of
ethics so far in advance as was the Christian System, not only
of the semi-barbarism of Jewish life eighteen hundred years
ago, but of what we term the civilization of our own day,
should have taken root, and lived, and spread, where every
opinion seemed adverse and every influence hostile. But,
before we take Christ's opinion on the subject in hand, let us
go a little further back.
You tell us that "the very essence of marriage" is, that
* From The Tribune of March 12, 1860.
582 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
the married should "cleave to each other till death."  And,
as a corollary, you insist that, if this condition is ever violated
(as by the action of a divorce law), then it is not Marriage
which prevails, but onIy a substitute.  You add:  "I insist that whoever would recommend such substitute should
clearly, specifically set forth its nature and conditions, and should
call it by its distinctive name.  There may be something better
than Marriage, but nothing is Marriage but a solemn engagement
to live together till death. Why should not they who have devised something better than old-fashioned Marriage give their
bantling a distinctive name, and not appropriate ouis. They
have been often warned off our premises; shall we never be able
to shame them out of their unwarrantable poaching." [The
Italics are yours.]
This is plain.  If the law regards Marriage as a contract
which, under any circumstances, may be terminated, then
(you allege) men and women live together under what is but
a substitute for marriage,-  under what should go by the
name of concubinage, or some similar term.  Such is the
state of things, you infer, under the present Indiana law.
I do not think you reflected what a sweeping assertion you
were here making. For there is not a State in the Union
-not even New York- which is without a divorce law.
In every State of the Union, therefore, Marriage is a contract
of such a nature that contingencies Nay arise under which
the married may not "live together until death them do
part." If, then, the possible contingency of separation, legally
admitted, annuls "the very essence of marriage;" and converts it into concubinage, in what condition, I pray you, are
married people living throughout the United States?
The same state of things prevails in all Protestant countries.
Only it those which acknowledge the Pope as their religious head is Marriage an indissoluble sacrament. Is it your
opinion that Catholics only are really married?
But this is a mere instalment of the difficulties which inhere in your proposition.  Moses, of whom we are told (Deuteronomy v. 31) that God said to him: "Stand thou here by
583 
MISCELLANIES.
me, and I will speak unto thee all the commandments, and
the statutes, and the judgments which thou shalt teach my
people," promulgated to the Jews a law of divorce. Our
divorcelaw in Indiana must be, even in your eyes, a moral
statute, compared to that of the Jewish lawgiver; for the
latter provided: "When a man hath taken a wife and married
her, and it come to pass that she find no favor in his eyes,
then let him write her a bill of divorcement, and give it in
her hand, and send her out of his house. And when she is
departed out of his house, she may go and be another man's
wife."   (Deuteronomy xxiv. 1.)  This, unless you deny the
record, you must admit to be God's own law. It was first
declared, according to the usual chronology, about 1450
years before the Christian era. It remained unchanged till
Christ's day.  Joseph and Mary were married under it; and
the former, when he doubted Mary's fidelity, was "minded to
put her away privily." For fourteen centuries and a half, then,
God's chosen people, living under His law, had, according to
yolu, a mere substitute for marriage. What distinctive name
the "bantling" deserves, I leave to your judgment.  We
have been accustomed to regard it as "old-fashioned marriage." It is certain, however, that the contract, under such
a law, was, "I will be your husband just as long as you find
favor in my eyes; and,.as soon as you cease to do so, you
shall have a bill of divorcement, and be sent out of my house.
Then you may marry whom you please."
Jesus tells us that this law was given "because of the
hardness of their hearts"; or, as we should now express it,
because of the low grade of morality then existing in Judea.
Nevertheless, if it really be God's own law, how  can you
allege that it is wrong in itself? But, if it be not wrong, then
divorce, even of the easiest attainment, must, in a certain
state of society, be right. And hence results another important principle; namely, that there is no absolute right or
wrong about this matter of divorce; but that it may properly vary in its details at different stages of civilization. It is'
certain that, under the Divine Economy, our modern sense of
584 
MIARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
propriety and morality has been so developed, that we should
not tolerate the Jewish statute giving uncontrolled license to
the husband, but no right of relief whatever to the wife.
Jesus, discarding the old law, is stated to have proposed
(as you remind us) to the people of his day a substitute where
there was but a single cause for divorce,- the same recognized
by the New York statute.  But his idea of conjugal infidelity
was not that entertained in our courts of law. Hie looked,
beyond surface-morality, to the heart. In his pure eyes, tihe
thought and the act were of equal criminality. HIis words
were: "Whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath
committed adultery with her already in his heart." (Matthew v. 28.) The fair inference seems to be, that the proper
cause for divorce is, not the mere physical act of infidelity,
but that adultery of the heart which quenches conjugal love;
thus destroying that which, far more justly than your cohabitation till death, may be regarded as "the very essence of
Marriage."
I do not allege that Jesus so connected his two teachings,
-that regarding divorce and that defining adultery, -that
the Jews of his day, gross-minded as they were, might detect
the connection and perceive its inference. If the Hebrews,
in Moses' time, were so steeped in barbarism that nothing
better than the bill-of-divorcement privilege was suitable for
them, we may readily imagine that, even after fourteen centuries had elapsed, enough of the hardness of heart would
remain to justify a law, in advance of the other, indeed, but
still only adapted to a hard, material race,- a race who  had
not learned that the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life,
a race who cannot be supposed to have been capable of appreciating, hardly of comprehending, a morality of standard so
exalted that the thought is brought to judgment though the
deed disclose it not.
I will go further and admit that, if the words of Jesus, in
the text quoted by you, have come down to us reported with
strict accuracy, he may have intended the men of his day to
put upon them, as best adapted to their social status, the lit
585 
MISCELLANIES.
erally material interpretation which seems to have suggested
itself to the framers of the New York divorce law. Jesus
was not one who urged reform, as some modern innovators
do, rashly or prematurely. Prudence was one of his distinguishing characteristics. HIe said not all that was in itself
true and proper to be said at some time, but only all the
truths which the people to whom he addressed himself were
prepared to receive. That he kept back a part, we have his
own words to prove: "I have yet many things to say unto
you, but ye cannot bear them now; howbeit, when He, the
Spirit of Truth, is come, he will guide you into all truth."
(John xvi. 12, 13.)
Yet, even if your law-makers but received the same impression that was produced on the Jews by Jesus' words, it by no
means follows that it is the one adapted to our wants and
progress. It by no means follows that we should not look beyond the dead letter to the living spirit. If the divorce law
promulgated from Mount Sinai was no longer adapted to a
World grown fifteen hundred years older, are we to suppose
that eighteen hundred years more, passed away, have brought
with them no need for another advance and a more enlightened interpretation?
Thus, I think, I have shown you:
First. That it will not do to warn us who think Divorce a
moralizing engine, as poachers, off your self-enfeoffed premises; or to bid us seek some name other than Marriage wherewith to designate our legal unions. The Bible tells us that
the ancestors of Christ were really married; and I never
heard this denied, till your doctrine denied it.
Second. That, according to the Old Testament, easy divorce
was expressly permitted, three thousand years ago, by the
Deity himself.
17/ird. That divorce laws-may properly vary, in different
stages of civilization. And
Fourth. That the language of Jesus, fairly construed, designates the proper cause of divorce to be, that infidelity of
the heart which defeats the true purpose of marriage.
586 
MARRIAGE ANTD DIVORCE.
In conclusion, permit me to say, as to the quasi-divorce to
which, under the name of "separation from bed and board,"
you refer, and which you think "just right," that of all the
various kinds of divorce it has been found, in practice, to be
the most immoral in its tendency. The subjects of it, in that
nondescript state which is neither married nor single, are
exposed - as every person of strong affection must be who
takes a vow of celibacy yet mixes with the world - to powerful temptations. Unable to marry, the chances are, that
these law-condemned celibates may do worse. I think that
those members of your bar with whom the procurement of
legal separations is a specialty could make to you some
startling disclosures on this subject.
But, be this as it may, what becomes of the "mutual and
solemn vow to live together till death them do part"?  What
becomes of the dictionary definitions which you adduce about
being "united for life," and about "affection and fidelity till
death shall separate them "? Does not your policy of "separatioit from bed and board" as effectually extinguish these,
and thus, according to your view, as completely convert Marriage into a concubinal substitute, as my remedy of Divorce?
I am, my dear sir, faithfully yours,
ROBERT DALE OWEN.
NEW YORK, March 6, 1860.
MR. GREELEY AGAIN.*
To THE HONi. ROBERT DALE OWEN OF INDIANA:  DEAR SIR: In my former letter, I asserted, and I think
proved, that
I. The established, express, unequivocal dictionary meaning
of Marriage is union for life.  Whether any other sort of
union of mIran and woman be or be not more rational, more
beneficent, more moral, more Christian, than this, it is cer
* From The Tribune of March 17, 1860.
587 
MISCELLANIES.
tain that this is Marriage, and that that other is something else.
II. That this is what we who are legally married - at all
events, if married by the ministers of any Christian denomination - uniformly covenant to do. I distinctly remember
that my marriage covenant was "for better, for worse," and
"until death do part." I presume yours was the same.
III. That Jesus of Nazareth, in opposition to the ideas and
usages current in his time, alike among Jews and Gentiles,
expressly declared Adultery to be the only valid reason for
dissolving a marriage.
IV. That the nature and inherent reason of Marriage in,
exorably demand that it be indissoluble except for that one
crime which destroys its essential condition. In other words,
no marriage can be innocently dissolved; but the husband or
wife may be released from the engagement upon proof of the
utter and flagrant violation of its essential condition by the
other party.
.And now, allow me to say that I do not see that your
second letter successfully assails any of these positions. You
do not, and cannot, deny that our standard dictionaries define
Marriage as I do, and deny the name to any temporary arrangement; you do not deny that I have truly stated Christ's
doctrine on the subject (whereof the Christian ceremonial of
Marriage, whether in the Catholic or Protestant Churches, is
a standing evidence); and I am willing to let your criticism
on Christ's statement pass without comment. So with regard
to Moses: I am content to leave Moses's law of divorce to the
brief but pungent commentary of Jesus, and his unquestionably correct averment that "from the beginning, it was not so."
But you say that, if my position is sound, I make "a sweeping assertion" against the validity of the marriages now
existing in Indiana and other divorcing States.  O  no, sir!
Nine tenths of the people in those States -I trust, ninetynine hundredths- were married by Christian ministers, under
the law of Christ. They solemnly covenanted to remain
faithful until death, and they are fulfilling that promise.
588 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
Your easy-divorce laws are nothing to them; their conscience
and their lives have no part in those laws. Your State might
decree that any couple may divorce themselves at pleasure,
and still those who regard Jesus as their Divine Master and
Teacher, would hold fast to his Word, and live according to
a- " higher law" than that revised and relaxed by you.
I dissent entirely from your dictum that the words of Jesus
relative to Marriage and Divorce may have been intended to
have a local and temporary application. On the contrary, I
believe he, unlike Moses, promulgated the eternal and universal law, founded, not in accommodation to special circumstances, but in the essential nature of God and man. I admit
that he may sometimes have withheld the truth that he
deemed his auditors unable to comprehend and accept, but I
insist that what he did set forth was the absolute, unchanging
fact.  But I did not cite him to overbear reason by authority,
but because you referred first to Christianity and the will of
God, and because I believe what he said respecting Marriage
to be the very truth. Can you seriously imagine that your
personal exegesis on his words should outweigh the uniform
tradition and practice of all Christendom?
You understand, I presume, that I hold to separations
"from bed and board "- as the laws of this State allow them
- only in cases where the party thus separated is in danger 
of bodily harm from the ferocity of an insane, intemperate,
or otherwise brutalized, infuriated husband or wife. I do not
admit that even such peril can release. one from the vow of
continence, which is the vital condition of Marriage. It may
possibly be that there is "temptation" involved in the position of one thus legally separated; but I judge this evil far
less than that which must result from the easy dissolution of
Marriage.
For here is the vital truth that your theory overlooks: The
Divine end of Marriage is parentage, or the perpetuation and
increase of the Human Race. To this end, it is indispensable
-at least, eminently desirable   that each child should enjoy protection, nurture, sustenance, at the hands of a mother
589 
MISCELLANIES.
not only, but of a father also.  In other words, the parents
should be so attached, so devoted to each other, that they shall
be practically separable but by death. Creatures of appetite,
fools of temptation, lovers of change, as men are, there is but
one talisman potent to distinguish between genuine affection
and its meretricious counterfeit; and that is the solemn,
searching question, "Do you know this woman so thoroughly,
and love her so profoundly, that you can assuredly promise
that you will forsake all others and cleave to her only until
death?"  If you can, your union is one that God has hallowed, and man may honor and approve; but, if not, wait till
you can thus pledge yourself to some one irrevocably, invoking heaven and earth to witness your truth.  If you rush
into a union with one whom you do not thus know and love,
and who does not thus know and love you, yours is the crime,
the shame; yours be the life-long penalty. I do not think,
as men and women actually are, this law can be improved;
when we reach the spirit-world, I presume we shall find a
Divine law adapted to its requirements, and to our moral
condition.  Here, I am satisfied with that set forth by Jesus
Christ. And, while I admit that individual cases of hardship
arise under this law, I hold that there is seldom an unhappy
marriage that was not originally an unworthy one, - hasty
and heedless, if not positively vicious. And, if people will
transgress, God can scarcely save them' from consequent suffering; and I do not think you or I can.
Yours,
HORACE GREELEY.
NEW YORK, March 11, 1860.
A CORRECTION.*
To THE EDITOR OF THE N. Y. TRIBUNE:  SIR: Your paper of yesterday, 12th inst., contains a letter
bearing the signature of Robert Dale Owen.  After eulogizing
* From The Tribune of March 12, 1860.
590
0 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
the doctrine of the New Testament, which is carried out in
the law of the State of New York, and which only permits
divorce in case of adultery, the writer falls foul of that "semi barbarous" people, the Jews, and their legislator, Moses,
whose law of divorce Mr. RP. D. Owen professes to quote ver batim from Deuteronomy xxiv. 1: "When a man hath taken
a wife and married her, and it come to pass that she find no
favor in his eyes, then let him write her a bill of divorcement
and give it in her hand, and send her out of his house."
Now, I would respectfully ask of Mr. R. D. Owen, how is it,
that, in transcribing these words out of the Bible, he has left
out and altogether omitted the words "because he hath found
some uncleanness in her," which form an integral part of
the first verse in the twenty-fourth chapter of Deuteronomy,
after the sentence, "find no favor'in his eyes," and before the
sentence, " then let him write," &c.
These words omitted by Mr. R. D. Owen form the gist of
the whole law on Divorce. For the Hebrew word ervah,
which.the English version here renders "uncleanness," is
throughout sacred Scripture invariably used to express illicit
sexual intercourse. Vide Leviticus xviii., where the word
occurs several times, and is rendered "nakedness."
Into the argument on Divorce it is not my intention to en ter; and, as it is not parliamentary to impute motives, I must
not say that Mr. R. Owen intentionally mutilated the text he
quotes, leaving out words which fully prove that this Word
of God, through Moses His servant, so eavalierly, not to say
unfairly, treated by Mr. R. D. Owen, is identical with the
law of our State, which he praises as derived from the New
Testament. But I should like to know, and I ask you, Mr.
Editor, what degree of confidence and consideration can be
due to the assertions and opinions of a disputant who, pro fessing to quote verbatim from a book so well known as the
Bible, "somehow" contrives to omit the pith and marrow
of a law against which he directs his assault?
Yours,
A SEMI-BARBAROUS RABBI.
591 
MISCELLANIES.
REPLY BY MR. OWEN.*
To "A SEMI-BARBAROUS RABBI":  SIR: I omitted the words in the text from Deuteronomy,
to which in to-day's Tribune you refer, intentionally. If
they were at all essential to the true understanding of the
text, you are right in taking me severely to task for their
omission. A man who would garble a quotation from any
book to suit his purpose ought to forfeit all claim to public
confidence.
I omitted them from what you may term a weakness, or
may pronounce to be mere fastidiousness. My studies never
having gone beyond Greek, the Old Testament, in its original
tongue, is a sealed book to me. The expression, "because he
hath found some uncleanness in her," conveyed to my mind
no idea except as a phrase, couched in terms less veiled than
modern usage is wont to employ, to mean disgust produced
by some personal habit or idiosyncrasy. If in this I was not
mistaken, the words are clearly non-essential; and I might
innocently consult my feelings by omitting them in the
columns of a daily paper.
But if, as you assert, the Hebrew word rendered "uncleanness" means "adultery," the omission was a grave one, even
if not wilfully committed.
D)oes it mean adultery? If, without presumption, one who
has never cultivated those roots of which that impudent fellow
who indited Hudibras declared that they "flourish most on
barren ground" may venture to argue the point with a Rabbi,
I ask leave to take issue as to this interpretation. The subject, indeed, is a disagreeable one; but, in self-defence, I cannot now choose but follow whither you lead; namely, to the
chapter cited by you, Leviticus xviii., where, as you inform
us, the same word rendered "uncleanness" in Deuteronomy
occurs several times, and is translated "nakedness."   The
first verse in which this happens reads thus:" The nakedness
* From The Tribune of March 19, 1860.
592
6 
MARRIAGE AND DIV ORCE.
of thy father and the nakedness of thy mother thou shalt not
uncover." If, as you allege, the word ervah, here translated
C nakedness," is "throughout Sacred Scripture invariably used
to express illicit sexual intercourse," or, as in a wife's case it
would be, adultery; and if in the above text we substitute
the one word for the other (as, if you are right, we may
properly do), we shall have a text which you may  comprehend, but which, to my obtuser perceptions, becomes wholly
unintelligible.
I, in what your learning may set down as my simplicity,
have always interpreted the text in question as referring to
that offence which Shem and Japheth avoided, and for which
Canaan (Genesis ix. 25) was cursed.
The word "uncleanness" does, indeed, in another text
(Numbers v. 19), mean adultery; but, to give it that meaning,
other defining words are expressly added. The priest, in that
text, thus addresses the woman suspected of infidelity, "If no
man have lain with thee, and if thou hast not gone aside to
uncleanness with another instead of thy husband, be thou free,"
&c.  Even in this text, however, if we were to attempt to
substitute "adultery" for "uncleanness," we should not only
have flagrant tautology, but a phrase that would seem to
favor the idea that a wife might commit adultery with her
husband as well as with other men; a thing, I must confess,
I never before heard of.
But, independently of all this, the very words of the
text seem  to preclude your reading.   Those words are:
"If it come to pass that she (the wife) find no favor
in his eyes because of some uncleanness," &c.  Now, a
wife may be said to "find no favor" in a husband's eyes,
if her person or her character become disagreeable to him;
but who would ever select such a phrase for a graver occasion?  What would you think of saying, "Mrs. Smith found
no favor in Mr. Smith's eyes, because of some acts of adultery"?
Finally, a difficulty remains whlich, in my eyes, as in the
eyes of all Christians it must be, is insuperable; though "A
38
593 
MISCELLANIES.
Semi-Barbarous Rabbi," perhaps, may get over it. Jesus did
not interpret the text as you do.
Your assertion is, that Moses' law "is identical with the
law of your State" (New York); that is to say, that it allowed
Divorce for no other cause except adultery. If that was so,
why, I pray you, did Jesus say: "Moses, because of the
hardness of your hearts, suffered you to put away your
wives"?  And why did he add: "But in the beginning it
was not so; and I say unto you: Whosoever shall put away
his wife, except it be for fornication, and shall marry another,
committeth adultery"? You make Moses' law and Jesus' law
identical. Yet here we find Jesus discarding the one as a
permission granted only because of the old Hebrews' hard
hearts, and substituting the other. But was there nothing to
discard?  Were the law discarded and the substitute inculcated one and. the same? That, as every reasonable man
must see, is a sheer impossibility. For we cannot imagine
Jesus' words to be meaningless, nor conclude that he was
trifling with his audience, and recommending, for their adoption, the self-same thing he condemned.
We know, as well as we can know any historical fact, that,
at the time when we are told that Jesus declared adultery to
be the only valid cause for divorce, that declaration was, as
Mr. Greeley, in his last letter, reminds us, "in opposition to
the laws and usages alike among Jews and Gentiles."
I am not well informed as to how far Rabbis usually regard
the words or the opinions of Jesus as authoritative. For myself, if I am in error, -if the ancient Jews, as you allege,
were not permitted to divorce their wives "except it be for
fornication," and if, in consequence, there was, in Christ's day,
nothing to reform in the Jewish divorce law,- it is enough
for me to know that, in adhering (as, after a careful survey of
the whole ground, I do) to the opposite opinion, I am but
adopting the views and sharing the interpretation put forth
by the Author of the Christian religion.
ROBERT DALE OWEN.
NEW YORK, Saturday, March 17, 1860.
594 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
COMMENT BY MR. GREELEY.
ALL this strikes us as-very absurd, and based on an unaccountable lack of perception. The fundamental idea of the
Mosaic law is personal and perfect purity.  Moses, therefore,
permitted the husband who had been deceived as to the chastity, prior to marriage, of his wife, to put her away. This
Jesus disallowed, as a temporary or local permission, based on
grounds peculiar to the Hebrew economy, reestablishing in
its stead the law as it was "from the beginning," that only
incontinence, after marriage, can afford a valid reason for
divorce.
MR. OWEN IN RESPONSE.*
THE WORD "ERVAH."
To TilE EDITOR OF THE N. Y. TRIBUNE:  SIR:. Unwilling to rest under the imputation cast on me
by you in to-day's "Tribune," namely, that my views in reply
to a "Semi-Barbarous Rabbi" are "very absurd," and are
based on an unaccountable lack of perception," I have
looked a little more closely into the philology of the question,
and beg leave here to present to you the result.
Gesenius, than whom, you are aware, there is no better authority, in his Hebrew Lexicon, translates ERVAH, turpitudo,
foeditas; and referring specially to the bill-of-divorcement
text (Deuteronomy xxiv. 1), he renders it " Macula aliqua in
imuliere rep2erta"; that is, "a blemish (or spot) found in the
woman." You can consult this Lexicon in the Astor Library.
In Luther's Translation of the Bible (to be found in the
same Library), at the text above referred to, that reformer, in
explaining the word "uncleanness," parenthesises thus: (ube
etwas das ihm misfallt, es sey an. ihrem, Leibe oder Gebdrden
oder Sitten, die sich aber sonst zinchtig verhallt;) which, if
you are familiar with German, you know to mean: ("in re
* From The Tribune of March 24, 1860.
595 
MISCELLANIES.
gard to something which displeases him, either in her person
or in her demeanor, or in her conduct, without imputation,
however, on her chastity.")  The word zi.chtig means strictly,
chaste, modest. One could hardly find anything more in accordance with my interpretation than this.
Again, the learned Ewald (in his "Geschichte des Yolks
Israel," Vol. II. of Anhang, page 185), commenting on the
Jewish bill of divorcement, says: Und sicker enthielte ein
socher Brief keinen weiterg Tadel der Frau als ware er ein
Klagebrief gewesen; sondern diente der Frau eher als ein
Zeugniss dass ihrer  Wiederheirath nichts in  Wege stehe:
that is, "And such a document certainly imputed no further
blame to the wife than if it had been a mere letter of complaint; on the contrary, it rather served as a certificate in
her hands, in proof that there was no obstacle to a second
marriage."
I think you will no longer deny that, if my views are
"very absurd," they are at least sustained by the best iebrew Lexicon of the day, by a writer of the highest authority
on Hebrew history, and, finally, that they are indorsed,
beyond all possible doubt, by the Great Reformer himself.
These learned men must all have shared my  "unaccountable
lack of perception."
Whence you disinterred your idea that incontinence in the
wife prior to rmarriage was the Mosaic ground of permission
to put her away I have no idea whatever. Certainly not
from the Old Testament, so far as I am acquainted with its
pages.  As I read there, incontinence before marriage, unless
disproved (Deuteronomy xxii. 20, 21), was, according to the
Mosaic law, punishable, not by a bill of divorcement, but by
a cruel death.
Yours,
ROBERT DALE OWEN.
' NEW YORK, Monday, March 19, 1860.
596 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
.  MR. OWEN RESUMES.*
DIVORCE.
To THE HON. HORACE GREELEY:
MY DEAR SIR: You derive your arguments against Divorce
from two sources:
1. From Scripture.
2. From the morality of the case.
I. If you regard the Old Testament as a portion of the
Word of God, you must admit that the Jewish bill-of-divorcement law was framed, not by a fallible lawgiver, but by the
Deity himself, Moses being only the medium of its promulgation.
If you accept the authority of Gesenius, of Ewald, and of
Luther, you must further concede to me that that bill-ofdivorcement law permitted a husband to put away a faithful
wife in any case in which she became personally disagreeable,
or in her deportment obnoxious to him, and that he was sole
judge whether she found favor in his eyes or not.
These premises conceded, it follows, that, upwards of three
thousand years ago, God sanctioned a law which permitted a
husband to put away his wife when she displeased him, by
means of a simple bill of divorcement, drawn up by the husband himself.
The New Testament informs us, and you remind us, that
Jesus, fourteen centuries later, disallowed that law. But he
did not condemn it as a law which ought never to have existed; he intimates that it was rendered necessary by the
hard hearts" of those for whose guidance it was framed.
Then the law of God, enacted thirty-two centuries ago, was
declared by Jesus, eighteen centuries ago, to be no longer
adapted to the state of human  society.
WVhat follows? That' there is no positive good or evil,no absolute virtue or vice?  Far from it.  There are principles permanent as the everlasting hills, immutable as the
* From The Tribune of March 28, 1860.
597 
MISCELLANIES.
laws that hold the planets to their course; principles that
depend not on times and seasons, that are the same yesterday,
to-day, and forever.  Such, to select an eminent example, is
the declaration, "Love is the fulfilling of the law." It was
true from the creation; it will be true until time shall be no
more.
But the details of a law are one thing, and a great, eternal
principle is another.   Laws properly change as the world
changes.  But the master principles underlying laws -  the
"laws of the laws," to adopt Bacon's phrase- endure while
the world lasts.
Beyond the general rule, however, we have, in this particular case, the direct authority of Jesus for it, that a divorce
law adapted to one age may cease to be suitable in another.
But, if the details of a Divine law three thousand years old
were properly rejected in a later stage of society, is it not
certain that the same may be true in our age of other details
put forth by Jesus as suitable for the Jews of his day? for
men so low in the social scale that they found in his teachings nothing but blasphemy, and rewarded them by mockings
and scourgings, and a death of torture on the cross?
It follows, past all denial, that while, as Christians, we
should be guided by the great principles taught by the Author
of our religion, we are not bound by the details of a law
adapted for Judea in the days of Herod the King; provided
our moral sense, moulded and quickened by Christian study,
leads us to the conclusion that we -less hard of heart than
those who cried out, "Crucify him!" -can bear other laws
and greater liberty than they.
And thus, at last, we are thrown back, for guidance, to the
second source whence your arguments are derived.
II. In other words: What is the true morality of the case?
"The Divine end of Marriage," you say, "is the perpetuation and increase of the human race."
Has civilization, in our day, reached no further than this?
Do we find in the holiest of human relations no higher, nobler
object - no end more divine - than the operation of that
598 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
instinct (common to man with the lower races) which peoples
the earth?  God has, indeed, ordained that, incidental  to
Marriage, and inseparable from it, shall be Reproduction.  If,
in any sense, it be true that this is the divine end of human
marriage, it must be in the same sense which applies when
the stag, seeks his partner, or the dove submits to her mate.
But, just in proportion as man is nobler than the bird of the
air or the beast of the field, is his marriage removed to infinite
distance above theirs. Woe to that bride, standing in her
white robes before the altar, who is thought of, by the one at
her side, only as the future bearer of his children! Woe to
her, if she has not chosen a spouse whose heart is swelled
with aspirations that overmaster the sensual; in whose soul
there burns not a light pure enough and bright enough to
quench, in such a moment as that, the lurid flames of desire?
It is one of the most beautiful and beneficent arrangements
which mark the Divine economy, that an institution - a
physical incident of which is the propagation of the raceshould in its higher and nobler results, be the means of calling
forth all that is best and purest in the inner nature of man;
love, in the broadest acceptation of that much profaned word,
-love, that crushes man's innate selfishness, and teaches
him the great lesson that the best happiness is to be found in
cares for another, not in thoughts for himself; love that is
heightened, indeed, by the warmth of earthly emotions, but
has an existence above and apart from these; to remain when
age has quenched passion, -to endure beyond the term of
our present stage of existence.
In that higher phase of wedded life which has its origin in
sentiments and aspirations such as these, not in the results of
our nature's lower instincts, will a cultivated mind, in its
best moments, recognize "the Divine end of Marriage." If,
some day, released from the daily round and deafening whirl
of politics, you give to your better instincts, in quiet, fair
scope and free voice, I think they will teach you this.
Meanwhile, we are here at issue.   You  have one conception of the Divine end of Marriage, I another. If yours
599 
MISCELLANIES.
be the correct idea, then it may be that nothing except that
which casts doubt on the parentage of offspring should be
valid cause for the dissolution of Marriage. If, on the contrary, I have more justly interpreted the higher purposes of
that institution, then whatever violates these defeats the
Divine end of Marriage, and supplies rightful cause why the
relation, failing in its true intent, should be discontinued. It
is a sound principle in jurisprudence, that, with the termination of the cause for a law, the law also should cease.
I do not merely say, in cases where the holiest purposes for
which God ordained Marriage are frustrated, its divinest ends
defeated, and its inmost sanctuary defiled, by evil passions,
that the relation, thus outraged, may not improperly cease: I
say that, for the sake of virtue and for the good of mankind,
in all such demoralizing cases, it ought to cease.  Household
strife is immorality; domestic hatred is immorality; heartless selfishness is immorality; inhuman treatment of the
weak by the strong is terrible immorality. And that condition of things, degenerate from a noble purpose, which fosters
evils such as these, has become itself immoral and demands
abatement.
Why, in its vice-fostering perversion, should  a life of
bickering be dragged on, till death, at last, brings separation
and peace? In the interests of the children, perhaps? But
is that the atmosphere in which their young lives should expand?   Or, is it in order that that intangible generality
called SOCIETY may be propitiated and appeased? But how,
I beg of you, can the true interests of Society be subserved
by perpetuating immorality among its members?  What sort
of Moloch is this Society that demands the immolation of its
own offspring?
What further objection do you interpose?  In substance,
this, - that men and women about to marry, exercising deliberation and discrimination, ought never to select ill; and
that, if they do, "theirs is the crime and the shame, and
theirs should be the life-long penalty."
If a lawgiver, directly or virtually, demands impossibilities,
600 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
his laws will fail of their effect. In making his demands,
then, he should have special reference to the powers likely to
be at the disposal of those of whom these demands are made.
It avails nothing to say that a thing ought to be, if, as a general rule, it cannot be.
But of all requirements,  the  most arduous   arduous
even when mature thought has brought wisdom, and when
age has conferred experience - is the decision whether a
being, loved now, is the one of all others, intellectually,
morally, plvsically, to whom, in a true home, we can impart
permanent happiness, and from whom we are capable of receiving it. Mortal eyes, even the wisest, never fully penetrate the veil. There may be that beyond which no foresight
could anticipate.
And, if such be the case, with wisdom and experience to
guide, what shall we expect from unsuspicious faith, just entering a false world, serenely ignorant of its treacheries, an
utter stranger to its guile? Will its goodness be its protection?.The reverse. In such a trial, it is the noblest who
are the most exposed. The better the nature, the more imminent the danger it encounters. The cold, the heartless, the
calculating, have fair chance of escape; it is the warm, the
trusting, the generous, who are the usual sufferers. What
belief so blind as that of first, pure, young affection? What
so easily cheated as a fresh and faithful and innocent heart?
And by what right, according to what principle, I pray you,
do we decide that there is one mistake that is never to be corrected; one error, the most fatal of all, which, once committed,
we shall never be permitted to repair?
A  "life-long penalty " you would inflict.  And for what
heinous offence? Say that an honest mistake were a crime;
say that a venial error were a career of shame. Even then,
the sentiment would be Jewish, not Christian. "An eye for
an eye, a tooth for a tooth," was the rule addressed to the
hard hearts.  Nowhere, in all Christ's teachings, will you find
the like.  The sin of your brother, sinning seven times, you
would not forgive; yet, as a Christian, you ought to forgive
601 
MISCELLANIES.
it, even to seventy times seventy.  The entrance  to the
father's house you would bar against the returning prodigal.
His, you would declare to him, was "the sin, the shame";
his should be "the life-long penalty."  No rejoicing that he
was dead and is alive again; no weeping joy that he was lost
and is found!
Let us dismiss abstractions, and stand face to face with the
realities of life. The time may come when men and women
(the eyesight of the affections opened) shall unfailingly distinguish and choose their own appropriate maes.  I have
heard enthusiasts argue that it will; and that there is a future
before mankind, even on earth, in which conjugal separation
and divorce will be unknown terms. God send it! But,
meanwhile, it is with the present, and its errors, and its evils,
and its sufferings, and its temptations to sin, that we have to
deal. Where we fail to cure, it is our duty to alleviate. If
we cannot make all the married virtuous and happy, let us
do what we can, by humane laws of prevention, to relieve
from immoral situations; and thus  to diminish domestic
misery and arrest household vice.
I thank you, my dear sir, for the opportunity afforded to
discuss this subject, and am
Faithfully yours,
ROBERT DALE OWEN.
NEW YORK, Tuesday, March 20, 1860.
MR. GREELEY'S REJOINDER.*
To ROBERT DALE OWEN:
DEAR SIR: As you have intimated your willingness that
our discussion should here close, I will endeavor to introduce
no new views into this letter. I will simply sum up the controversy as it stands.
I. I have hitherto shown, and you have not attempted to
* From The Tribune of April 7, 1860.
602 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
disprove, that Marriage is, according to every standard dictionary, a union for life, indissoluble at the pleasure of those
married, or either of them. I have insisted that you have no
right to use this important word in a vitally different sense
from that given to it by the great lexicographers. What you
favor may be ever so much better than Marriage (though I
believe it far otherwise), but it is manifestly not the same
thing, and you ought to give it a distinctive name. When I
am told that two persons are married, I understand that they
have coveanted to live together as husband and wife, not
during pleasure, but during life. The dictionaries, the Christian religion, the general consent of my countrymen and of
the civilized world, fully justify me in that conception.
When, therefore, you apply the term Marriage to a very different compact, you not merely use words unjustifiably, but
you virtually confess the badness of your cause. The tradesman who counterfeits another's trade-marks virtually confesses the inferiority of his own wares.  I protest, then, against
your using the word Marriage to designate any other union
than one for life.  If A and B have agreed, with ever so
much ceremony, to live as man and wife until one or both of
them shall see fit to separate and form new relations, they
may be ever so wisely and rationally paired, but they are not
married. I made this point as strongly before; our readers
will judge whether you have or have not met it. At all
events, I mind the Apostle's injunction to "tIold fast the
form of sound words." We who stand by Marriage as Jesus
Christ established and Noah Webster defines it, have a right
to the word by which that relation has ever been characterized.   What  you  advocate is quite another  thing,   be
pleased to give it a distinguishing name. Then, if we call
our compact by your name, the public will understand that
.we admit your union to be more rational, honorable, ennobling, than ours. At all events, we warn you off our premises,
and insist that you shall not lay your eggs in our nest. If
you demand liberty to form temporary unions, we will consider that demand; but you must not call them marriages;
1 603 
MISCELLANIES.
for, though they may be the same to you, they are far other Wise to us.
II. As to the religious or Christian view of the subject, I
rest on the simple, explicit averment of Jesus of Nazareth, as
universally understood and regarded by the Christian Church
for eighteen centuries. We know what Hebrew, Greek, Pto man laws and customs respecting the marital union were in
Christ's day; we know that Jesus propounded and his disci ples accepted a very different law,   that of Marriage indis soluble but by death, or by that crime which is *ath to ali
the sanctities of Marriage. We know that Orthodox and
Heretic, Catholic and Protestant, literal and liberal, with
barely exceptions enough to prove the rule, have understood
the Saviour's doctrine of Marriage throughout the Christian
centuries as I do to-day. That this Christian doctrine of
Marriage is a chief reason for the moral, intellectual, and
even material, supremacy of Europe over'Asia in our day, I
do most firmly believe; you will regard it as you think fit.
Aid, as to Moses and his law, with all you have to say of
them, all the answer that seems to me needed is contained in
the few words of Jesus on that very point: "Moses, for the
hardness of your hearts," permitted easy divorce; "but from
the beginning it was not so."
III. I have said that "the Divine end of Marriage is the
perpetuation and increase of the human race." By that affirmation I abide. Of course, I did not say that Marriage has
no other end than this; so all your criticism seems to me
ludicrously inapposite. I do not urge that, in a true sexual
union, everything else but the production, nurture, and wellbeing of children, must be ignored. I do insist that there
must be nothing incompatible or inconsistent with this. If
required to say whether the union of this man with this
woman is true, noble, and honorable,'or sensual, selfish, and
debasing, I must ask, "Would they gladly have children born
of it?  Would  they proudly acknowledge  those  children
before the world, and undertake to fulfil toward them all the
duties of parents?"
604 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
If not, their union, though impelled by mutual admiration,
and signalized by a lava-flood of passion, is shameful and unblest. The sexual union which the immediate parties prefer
should be childless has no right to be at all.
I wa6 shocked when I heard an apostle of your faith say,
some years since, "We hold that the parents are not to be
sacrificed to the.children."  I hold, on the contrary, that the
lives of true parents are filled with acts of self-sacrifice for
their children, - that their lives have been well spent who
have given to the world offspring nobler than themselves.
And, whil#I admit that the conduct of a husband may be so
outrageous, so brutal, as to justify the innocent wife in requiring a separation, I insist that one who truly comprehends
the nature and purposes of Marriage will not seek to marry
another while the father of her children is still living.  I do
not think she could look those children in the eye with all
a mother's conscious purity and dignity while realizing that
their father and her husband, both living, were different men.
Nor dp I feel that she could be to them all that a mother
should be under such conditions.
IV. The vice of our age, the main source of its aberrations,
is a morbid Egotism, which overrides the gravest social necessities in its mad pursuit of individual, personal ends. Your
fling at that "intangible generality called SOCIETY " is direct
ly in point. You are concerned chiefly for those who, having
married unfortunately, if not viciously, seek relief from their
bonds; I am anxious rather to prevent, or at least to render
infrequent, immoral, and unfit sexual unions hereafter.  The
miseries of the unfitly mated may be deplorable; but to make
divorce easy is in effect to invite the sensual and selfish to
profane the sanctions of Marriage whenever appetite and
temptation may prompt. Here are a man and a woman who
know absolutely nothing of each other but that they are reciprocally pleased with each other's appearance, and think
Marriage would conduce to their mutual enjoyment,- so they
form a connubial partnership.  Next year - perhaps next
month - they have tired of each other,- discovered incom
605 
MISCELLANIES.
patibilities of temper, - quarrelled,-  in short, they hate each
other, as they very well may; so they are divorced, and ready to
marry again.  Gibbon intimates that, under the RPoman liberty of Divorce, by which Rome was debauched and ultimately
ruined, a woman had eight husbands within five years. Mr.
Owen, whenever you shall have succeeded in appropriating
our word Marriage as a fig-leaf for this sort of thing, you will
cause us to invent or appropriate some other term to characterize what we mean by Marriage; and then you will very
soon drop your own dishonored designation and cohe coveting
ours again. So please leave us what belongs to us, and choose
a new term for your arrangement now.
"It is very hard," said a culprit to the judge who sentenced
him, " that I should be so severely punished for merely stealing a horse." "Man," replied the judge, "you are not so
punished for merely stealing a horse, but that horses may not
be stolen." The distinction seems to me clear and vital. The
wedded in soul may know each other if they will; it is impossible that others should certainly know them. To those
who are thus wedded, the covenant to "take each other for
better, for worse," and "to live together till death do part,"
has no terrors; they enter upon it without hesitation, and
fulfil its conditions without regret. But to the libertine, the
egotist, the selfish, sensual seeker of personal and present
enjoyment at whatever cost to others, the Indissolubility of
Marriage is an obstacle, a restraint, a terror; and God forbid
that it should ever cease to be! Thousands would take a
wife as readily, as thoughtlessly, as heartlessly, as they don a
new coat or sport a new cravat, if it were understood that
they might unmarry themselves whenever satiety, or disgust,
or mutual dislike, should prompt to that step. But it is not
so, Mr. Owen, even in Indiana. Men and women are mnarried, even in Indiana, "for better, for worse," and under solemn
covenant to "live together till death do part ";and they cannot resort to Divorce, even there, without conscious shame or
general reprobation. That human laws may be everywhere
conformed to the Divine, and no sexual union hallowed by
606 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
Church or State but that union for life which alone is true
Marriage, is the ardent hope of
Yours,
HORACE GREELEY.
NEW YORK, March 31, 1860.
MR. OWEN'S CLOSING ARGUMENT.*
To THE HON. HORACE GREELEY:  MY DEAR SIR: Imitating your precaution, I shall, in summing up, avoid the introduction of new views; I shall also
study strictest brevity. Had your summing up fairly presented the question at issue, the public need not have been
troubled with mine.
It is a besetting weakness of our nature to imagine itself
unfailingly right, its opinions infallibly true, its rules of action
the only morality. If, in a discussion of principles, we yield
to this, the best thing is to close it; because, conducted in
such a spirit, it becomes useless, or worse.
The sole point of our discussion, and that which might
be usefully, if dispassionately, debated, has been this: You
advocate a divorce law with one only cause of divorce: I
think it conducive to public morality that such a law should
admit several causes. I took that position, and I took no
other. I indorsed the divorce law of Indiana; nothing more.
But how, in summing up, do you state the case? In substance, thus: 1Marriage under a single-cause divorce law, as
in New York, is Marriage. There is no other Marriage.
What goes by that name, under a divorce law admitting
several causes, as in Connecticut or Indiana, is not Marriage,
but concubinage. If those who are united under such laws
call themselves married, they "use words unjustifiably";
they "virtually confess the badness of their cause"; they
are as "tradesmen who counterfeit another's trade-marks";
* From The Tribune of April 21, 1860.
607 
MISCELLANIES.
they are countenancing the Roman woman who had "eight
husbands within five years," and appropriating Mr. Greeley's
word Marriage "as a fig-leaf for this sort of thing."  They
must "choose a new term for their arrangement."  Horace
Greeley, armed with Noah Webster, declares to them, that
"they may be ever so wisely and rationally paired, but
they are not married," and he "protests against their using
the word."
The law of Connecticut, the law of Indiana, declares, that
Marriage, contracted under a divorce law admitting several
causes, and by virtue of which the union nay,  in certain
contingencies, terminate before death, is Marriage." Horace
Greeley tells them it is "quite another thing."' The law of
Connecticut, the law of Indiana, provides, if a couple,
legally divorced, contract a second marriage, such second
marriage is legal.  Horace Greeley insists that they "must
not call that Marriage; for, though it may be the same to
them, it is far otherwise to him."
. Here is a conflict. The Revised Codes of Connecticut and
Indiana (and of a dozen other States beside) declare one
thing; Horace Greeley declares the opposite. The one or
the other, it is evident, must be grievously in error.
Popes, from the Vatican, have, not unfrequently, assumed
the power, as to certain laws enacted by duly constituted
legal authority in various Catholic countries, by Papal Bull
to override and annul them. But in our country we consider the law supreme; in force, and to be acknowledged and
respected, until it be legally repealed.
This is not all. In your summing up, motives are imputed.
Those who enact or approve a divorce law which admits more
causes than one are told that "they are concerned chiefly for
those who, having married unfortunately, if not viciously,
seek relief"; and that this arises from a " morbid egotism, the
vice of our age, which overrides the gravest social necessities
in its mad pursuit of individual, personal ends."
Does it not occur to you, when men vote for or sanction reasonable divorce laws, they may do so from a con
608 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
scientiouLs motive?  Does it not occur to you, that when an
opponent expresses the opinion, "in cases where the holiest
purposes for which God ordained Marriage are frustrated,
and its inmost sanctuary defiled by evil passions, it ought
for the sake of virtue to cease," - that he nmay be sincere in
that opinion? Have you forgotten that there is One only
who looks into the heart and reads its motives; and that no
human being has a right, setting himself up as judge and
ruler, to usurp His place?
The story of the horse-thief (told that he was punished not
merely for his offence, but "that horses may not be stolen "),
if it has any bearing on the subject at all, has an unfair one.
Horse-stealing is  crime. To take it for granted that Divorce
also is one is to prejudge the whole question under discussion. Again; if the meaning be, that the unhappily married
should suffer, not merely for their mistake, but that divorces
may not be granted, then you fall into the same error as the
Jews, when they, zealous without knowledge for their Sabbatl, were reminded by Jesus, in the spirit of the truest
philosophy, that human institutions are made for man, not
man for human institutions.
Others may have argued that children ought to be sacrificed to parents. I hold, and ever have held, that there is no
duty more sacred than that which we owe to those to whom
we impart existence. It is a misfortune, and a great one, that
a mother should look her children in the eye, and think that
their father, then living, and her husband, are different men.
But far greater is the misfortune when she looks upon them
with the bitter consciousness that they are daily, hourly, learning to know in their father a sot, a brute, a ruffian, the desecrator of the domestic sanctuary; far greater is the anguish to
feel that that father never teaches them one lesson of virtue,
never gives them one useful example, except it be such as the
Hlelots furnished to the Spartan youth; a terrible beacon,
warning from the shame and the folly of intemperance.
If you conclude that divorce laws necessarily cause young
people to marry as readily and heartlessly as they don a fresh
609
89 
MISCELLANIES.
hat or sport a new bonnet, you do your fellow-creatures great
injustice; and a few years' residence in Indiana would convince you of your mistake. You might be reminded of what,
even at our age, we ought not to have forgotten, - what manner of thing, namely, youthful affection is; how undoubtingly
it believes, how wholly it trusts; how little it calculates laws
or troubles itself about Divorce, or dreams of anything except
that it shall always love as it loves now; constancy a pleasure even more than a duty, and change an impossible desire.
We often err in ascribing to the restraining influence of
faulty laws that which is due to the faithful impulses of our
better nature.
You remind us, on Gibbon's authority, that the liberty of
Divorce was grossly abused ill debauched Rome. I remind
you that the liberty of Republicanism was terribly abused in
revolutionary France. But it would be a poor argument
thence to conclude, that, in this country, we ought to forbid
divorce and introduce a monarchy.
,The moral and intellectual supremacy of Europe over Asia
you ascribe mainly to Christian Marriage. To Christian
Marriage, as opposed to Polygamy, it may justly be thus ascribed. This opinion I myself, in a recent work, expressed:
"Under the system of Monogamy alone have man's physical
powers and moral attributes ever maintained their ascendency;
while weakness and national decadence follow in the train of
Polygamy, whether openly carried out, as in Deseret and
Constantinople, or secretly practised, as in London and New
York." *
But this has no bearing on the Divorce question.  You
will not assert that the morals were better before the Peformation, in Catholic countries refusing divorce, than they were
after Luther's time in Protestant countries permitting it.
Briefly summing up, I remind you: -
1. That I proved, and you have not attempted to disprove,
that, according to the Old Testament, God promulgated, more
than three thousand years ago, a divorce law permitting a
*Footfalls on the Boupdary of Another World, page 42.
610 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
husband to put away a wife who found no favor in his eyes;
that that law prevailed among His chosen people from the time
of Moses till long after Joseph and Mary were united subject
to its provisions; and, consequently, that if Marriage, determinable by Divorce, be no Marriage, there was not a married
man or woman among the Jews for fifteen hundred years.
2. I have shown, and you have admitted, that Jesus disallowed that law; not denying that it was suitable at the period
it was given, yet declaring that, in his day, it ought not to
prevail. I thence deduced the inference, not assailed by you,
that, according to Scripture, divorce laws may properly vary
in different stages of civilization.
3. I have stated, what the best legal authority * indorses,
that, of the various kinds of Divorce, none has been found, in
practice, so immoral as that variety, unknown to our Indiana
law, but known in New York as "separation from bed and
board." You think it "just right." Let the public judge between us.
4..RIferring to our modern state of civilization, I have
argued, that the present age is prepared to see, in the holiest
of human relations, purposes far higher, infinitely more worthy
the epithet divine, than the mere operation of the instinct
that peoples the earth; that Marriage was designed to be, and
should be, the means of calling out all that is best and purest
in the inner nature of man; and that, when it becomes the
daily source of anger, strife, cruelty, brutality, it defeats God's
purpose, violates the Divine economy, becomes itself immoral,
and ought to cease. You dissent. Again be the public the
judge in the premises.
But if in these I dissent, there are other points as to which,
in concluding this controversy, I am glad to agree with you.
I agree that every State has a direct interest in the private
morals of its members.   I agree that whatever policy is
found, in the end, best calculated to promote these morals,
ought to prevail. I agree that it is one of the greatest of
earthly blessings, when a married couple dwell together in
Bishop, on Marriage and Divorce, ~ 277.
i
611 
MISCELLANIES.
unity till death.   I agree that no light or transient cause
should dissolve the conjugal union. I agree that men and
women ought mutually to bear and forbear "while evils are
sufferable'," rather than to right themselves by resort to separation or divorce. I agree, further, that a state of things
which leads to Divorce is to be deprecated and lamented, and
that Divorce itself is a grave misfortune. And I but add
that, when a long train of abuses and immoralities, pursuing
invariably the same course, clearly shows that a union has
become destructive of its holy ends, then it ought to be a
right, and may become a duty, to select of two evils the lesser;
to acquiesce in the necessity which indicates a separation,
and legally to dissolve the bands which connect the ill-mated
members together.
In taking leave of you, suffer me to correct an error which
crept into my second letter. I there said that there was not
a State of the Union without a Divorce law. I ought to have
added, "except the State of South Carolina."   She boasts
that "within her limits, a divorce has not been granted since
the Revolution." But suspend your approbation till you
learn, as Bishop will inform you, what is the concomitant:
" Not only is adultery not indictable there [in South Carolina],
but the Legislature has found it necessary to regulate, by
statute, how large a proportion a married man may give of
his property to his concubine."*
You will admit that your system of Indissoluble Marriage
is dearly paid for, under such a state of things; nor have you
been in the habit of asserting that the morals of divorce-denying South Carolina are superior to those of Connecticut or
indiana.
I am, my dear sir,
Faithfully yours,
ROBERT DALE OWEN.
PHILADELPHIA, April 9, 1860.
* Marriage and Divorce, ~ 285.
612 
IARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
MR. GREELEY CLOSES THE DISCUSSION.*
TO THiE HON. ROBERT DALE OWEN: -
SiR: I understood from you that your concluding letter
would be that to which I last replied; but, since you have
deemed it necessary to write again, I necessarily, yet willingly,
rejoin. As before, I shall confine myself strictly to the points
made in your last.
I. You seem to complain that I consider my side of the
question at issue the side of Morality and Right. But, if I
did not, why should I so earnestly uphold it? Do I complain of your holding your own side in similar regard? Assuredly, I cannot change my convictions, and should not be
required to conceal them. Indeed, since you admit that my
conviction is grounded in a "besetting weakness of our
nature," you surely cannot regard it with surprise, any more
than I can deem it a reason for closing our discussion; though
I have at all times since you began it been willing to close it
II. You think the difference between us to be simply this:
I allow Divorce for a single cause (Adultery), you for several
causes; and you would thus reduce it, from a question of
principle, to one of details.  But you cannot deny that my
one ground of Divorce is that expressly affirmed to be such
by Jesus Christ, to the exclusion and negation of all others
Nor can you fail to see that if, as I hold, the paramount (not
sole) Divine end of Marriage is Parentage, or the perpetuation and increase, under fit auspices, of the Human Race,
then that crime which vitiates and confuses parentage may
logically be deemed the sole sufficient reason for annulling a
marriage. To my mind, therefore, our difference is clearly
and emphatically one of principle. I do not hold that even
Adultery justifies the dissolution of a marriage so far as the
culpable party is concerned. It simply authorizes, but by no
means requires, the faithful, exemplary husband or wife to
procure a legal adjudication and declaration of the fact that
* From The Tribune of April 31, 1860.
613
. 
MISCELLANIES.
this marriage has-  solely through the infidelity of the adulterer - been dissolved, so far only as it imposes duties or
obligations on the wronged and innocent party.
III. As to what constitutes Marriage, - what Marriage is,
-  I have quoted the standard lexicographers of our language,
who unanimously pronounce it a union and consecration of
one man to one woman for life, and deny the name to all
other unions.  Your quarrel on this point is not with me,
but with the dictionaries, as well as with the Christian
Church.  I have made no new definitions; I have simply
insisted that those which have stood unchallenged hitherto
shall be recognized and respected. Not by me primarily, but
by Jesus of Nazareth, and, following him, by Noah Webster
and Dr. Worcester, have the definitions I rest on been set
forth. If they truly define the term, then the mutual promise
of a man and woman to live together until one of them shall
have proved a sot, a termagant, a ruffian, or a beast, is not a
marriage. If you insist that the authorities I quote mistake
or misstate the true meaning and force of the term, why do
you not quote lexicographers who favor your rendering? Is
it not clear that you would have done so, had there been any?
And, if there be none, how can you complain of me for insisting that the word Marriage shall be held to mean that, and
that only, which our standard dictionaries say it does mean?
IV. And this disposes of your talk of "Horace Greeley"
saying this or that, in opposition to your views. If any part
of what I have urged rests on the naked dictum of Horace
Greeley, it is, of course, of little moment; but, if it is correctly based on the explicit teachings of Jesus Christ, on the
unbroken tradition and nearly universal affirmation of the
Christian Church, on the lessons of Profane History (see
Gibbon), the definitions of standard lexicographers, and the
concurring judgment of a vast majority of the wise and good,
why, then, you see, the case is bravely altered, and the fact
that I reaffirm what all of these have constantly asserted,
does not necessarily render it insignificant, nor subject it to
ridicule.
614
0 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
V. You dwell on the fact that the codes of Indiana and of
some other States permit Divorce for other cause than Adultery, as though this proved the people of those States not
married, according to my understanding of the term. But I
have already urged the fact that, in those States, as elsewhere,
Christian Marriage is unqualifiedly a union for life, and that
most of those wh6 marry there are married by clergymen in
a strict and open accordance with the Christian law. You
know, as well as I do, that divorce, followed by another marriage, rarely fails to cover with odium the parties involved
in it, or at least some of them. You may not know, however, as I do, that, in repeated'instances, persons divorced
under the State laws you glory in, and otherwise married,
have been excommunicated therefor by Protestant churches,
clergymen being silenced for the same cause. That no Catholic would even dream of contracting such second marriage,
no matter in what State or under whatever permission of tho
secular authority, you, of course, fully understand.   I must
protest, then, against your inference, from the fact that tho
laws of certain States allow Divorce on various grounds, that
their people are in verity generally educated and married,
and afterward live, under the law as you would have it.
The "higher law" is their safeguard.
VI. I am surprised that you could so mistake my application of the judge's remark, that he punished the horse-thief,
"not for stealing a horse, but that horses may not be stolen."
My idea was, ant is, that Marriage is rightfully made indissoluble, in order that unfit and unreal marriages may not
be contracted. Say that a leg,al marriage may be nullified
merely because the parties find or fancy themselves unsuited
to each other, or unhappy in their union, and I defy you to
guard against so-called marriages whereof the impulse is mere
appetite or worldly convenience. Such unions, in fact, are
made, and will be made, under whatever laws. But tens of
thousands of libertines, lechers, egotists, who would take a
new wife at least every Christmas, if they could legally and
reputably rid themselves in season of the old one, are appalled
615
0 
MISCELLANIES.
and deterred by the stern exaction of a solemn promise to
fulfil all the obligations of husband and wife "till death do
part."  We cannot, even thus, be sure that all marital unions
will be genuine marriages; but I know no other touchstone
which that "intangible something called Society" can apply
half so searching as this.
VII. As to whatever discrepancy may exist between the
teachings of Moses and of Jesus respectively, regarding'Divorce,
they present no difficulty to my mind. I hold the law of
Moses (not the Decalogue, which says nothing of Divorce) to
have been local and temporary in its application; while that
of Jesus is permanent and universal. Hence my adhesion to
the latter.
VIII. The vital difference between us seems to me to hinge
just here: You regard primarily those who have made false
marriages, - who have wedded hastily, giddily, carnally, viciously,- and seek to relieve them from the inevitable consequence of their errors. I, on the other hand, am more intent
on dissuading and deterring others from following their bad
example, and so plunging, like Dives, "into this torment."
If you could unmarry every discordant pair to-morrow, and
should thereby teach the yet single that they might marry in
haste and get divorced at leisure, you would not diminish,
but greatly increase, the aggregate of human woe; while, if I
could convince the giddy millions of heedless youth that Mlarriage is the most important, serious, solemn incident of their
lives, and that whoever contracts it on the strength of pleasing features and a six-weeks' acquaintance commits a crime
which will assuredly and fearfully punish its perpetrators, I
should do mankind the greatest service, even though I should
thereby render it certain that no divorce be evermore granted.
Believing that unhappy unions were mainly, in their outset,
unworthy ones, and that none who marry truly and nobly
ever need seek or wish for Divorce, I must continue to uphold
the law given through the words of Jesus of Nazareth, which,
I am happy to know, is substantially identical with the law
of New York.  The Puritan pioneers of New England, it is
616 
MARRIAGE AND DIVORCE.
jocularly said, resolved to take the law of God for their guidance until they should find time to make a better. Lacking
not merely the leisure to frame such better law, but the faith
to anticipate or seek it, I propose to hold by what I clearly,
undoubtin,gly, accord with Christendom in understanding to
be the Law of Marriage as enunciated by Him who "spake
as never man spake." In the hope that further reflection and
observation may bring you to a realizing sense of its wisdom
and benignity,.
I remain, yours,
HORACE GREELEY.
NEW YORK, April 25, 1860.
NOTE.;
INDIANA DIVORCE LAW, AS IN FORCE MARCII 1, 1860.
' (Revised Statutes of Indiana, Vol. II. pp. 234 to 237.)
~ 6. Divorces may be decreed by the Circuit Courts of this
State on petition filed by any person who, at the time of the filing
of such petition, shall have been a bona fide resident of the State
one year previous to the filing of the same, and a resident of the
county at the time of the filing of such petition, which bona fide
residence shall be duly proven by such petitioner to the satisfaction of the Court trying the same.
~ 7. Divorces shall be decreed, upon the application of the injured party, for the following causes:        *
1. Adultery, except as hereinafter provided.
2. Impotency.
3. Abandonment for one year.
4. Cruel treatment of either party by the other.
5. Habitual drunkenness of either party, or the failure of the
husband to make reasonable provision for his family.
6. The conviction, subsequent to the marriage, in any country,
of either party of an infamous crime.
7. Any other cause for which the Court shall deem it proper that
a divorce should be granted.
617 
MISCELLANIES.
~ 8. Divorces shall not be granted for adultery in any of the
following cases:  1. When the offence has been committed with the connivance of
the party seeking the divorce.
2. When the party seeking the divorce has voluntarily cohabited with the other, with knowledge of the fact; or has failed to
file his or her petition for two years after he or she had discovered
the same.
3. When the party seeking the divorce has also been guilty of
adultery, under such circumstances as would have entitled the
opposite party, if innocent, to a divorce.
~ 21. The Court, in decreeing a divorce, shall make provision
for the guardianship, custody, support, and education, of the minor
children of such marriage.
~ 23. The divorce of one party shall fully dissolve the marriage
contract as to both.
~ 24. A  divorce decreed in any other State by a court having
jurisdiction thereof shall have full effect in this State.
~ 27. Wherever a petition for divorce remains undefended, it
shall be the duty of the prosecuting attorney to appear and resist
such petition.
(The other sections refer to modes of procedure, legitimacy,
property rights, etc. The Indiana law does not permit limited
divorce.)
618
lb 
ANALYTICAL INDEX.
Abolitionists, organization of, 284.
Agricultu7re, the science of, 296.
AIKEN, WILLIAMI, of South Carolina, for
Speaker, 351.
Alps, travels among, 328, 329, 330.
ANDREW, JOHN A., 391.
AAnti-NVebraska, 314.
Apples, their production, 303, 304, 305.
ARGYLE, the DUKE of, 273.
Austria, iron interests of, 274.
Authorship, experiences of, 419.
BALDWIN, ROGER S., of Connecticut, 277.
Ball-PI(yltg, its good and its evil, 117.
Banking S?ystem, the Free, 126.
BANKS,  N. P., candidate for Speaker,
346, 347; elected, 351; his character as
Speaker, 352.
BARBER, JAMES, 130.
BARKER, JAMES W., 820.
BARNARD, DANIEL D., 136.
Barnbuirners' bolt from Democratic Con  venitioln, 213; nominate Van Buren, 213.
BARNES, CAPT. NATHAN, 51.
BATES, EDWARD, 247; sketch of, 389;
su_g  ted for President, 390.
Bedjerd (N. H.), 46, 48, 50; people, 51.
Beggars and Borrowers, 192; anecdote
of, 198; my experience with, 195.
BELL, JOHN, for President, 391.
BENEDICT, LEWIS, 124.
BENNETT, JAMES GORDON, 139.
Benningtoii, Battle of, 31.
BENTON,  COL. THOMIAS H., his Mileage
record, 219.
Big Trees, the, of Mariposas, 382.
Billiards, Backgammon; Bowling, 118.
BIRD, WILLSA, anecdote of, 271.
BIRNEY, JAMES G., 165, 166.
BLAIR, FRANCIS P., Sr., 358, 407.
BOSSANGE, M. HECTOR, 338.
BOTTS, JOHN MINOR, in Congress, 227.
BRAGG, GEN., 411.
BRECKINRIDGE, JOHN C., 353, 354.
BRISBANE, ALBERT, first acquainitance
with, 146; writes for The Ne-w-Yorker,
146; his plan of Social Reform, 146.
BRONSON, G. C., vote for Governor, 315.
BROOKS, JAMI S, up for Congress, 216.
BRUCE  GEROREF, tvpe founder, 92.
BRYANT, WILLIALI CULLEN, 189.
BUCIIANAN, JA.NIES, proposed for Presi  dent in 1844,160; nominated, 858: elect  ed, 354; his Kansas policy, 356;'his
character, 359; his death, 359.
Buena V1ista, Battle of, 209. 
Bunker Hill, Battle of, 30.
BUTLER, A. P., on Compromise, 256.
BUTLER, GEN. WILLIAM O., 214.
CALHOUN,   JOHN C., 107; character of,
251;      anecdote ofeat, 252 death of 259.
Cali/brnia, visit  to, 360; travels in, 380;
climate of,  380; trees,  380; minerals,
384; soil, 385; water facilities,  386;
agriculture, 386; rainy seasons, 387;
timber,  387; railroad facilities, 387;
a prediction, 388.
California, Upper, ceded to UI. States, 210.
CAi4BRELENG, HON. C. C., 281.
CAMERON, GEN. SIMON, 391.
CAMPBELL, HON. LEWIS D., 346.
Camp Floyd, a visit to, 314.
CANNING, LORD, his Character, 273.
Cards, 118.
CASS, GEN. LEWIS, defeated in 1844,160;
nominated in 1848, 213; defeated, 213.
Cerr,o Gordo, Battle of, 209.
CHANDLER, GEN. ADONII'AM{, 125.
CHANNING, REV. WILLIAM I-., account
of Margaret Fuller, 172.
Chappaquia, 297.
CHASE,  HoN. SALMON P., against Com promise, 258; at Chicago in 1860, 391.
CIepultepec, Battle of, 210.
Chicago twenty years ago, 248.
CHURCH,  SANFORD  E., 277.
Chur~ubusco, Battle of, 210.
CLARK, REV. MATTHEW, 21, 26, 2r.
CLARK, MYRON H., for Governor, 314.
CLAY, HENRY, 106-; defeated at Harris  burg Convention, 130; unanimously
nominated in 1844, 160; his Texas let  ter, 161; defeated for President, 165;
affection for, 166; how his election was
lost, 168; defeated at Philadelphia Con  vention, 212; anecdote of, 219; his Mile  age, 219; bids adieu to the Senate, 225;
his  fascination, 250; submits   Com  promise plan, 255; debate with Davis,.
256;'The  Great  Commoner," 408;
death, 225.
CLAY, HENRY, Jr., at Buenia Vista, 209.
CLAYTON, HON. JOHN M., 253.
CLEMENS, HON. JEREMIAH, 399.
Clichy, imprisonment in, 332, 343.
CLINTON, DE WITT, 107.
COBB, HON. HOWELL, chosen Speaker,
255; Secretary of the Treasury, 356;
anecdote of, 356.
COGGESHALL, JAM{ES, 139, 317.
COLLAMER, HON. JACOB, 253; presented
for the Presidency, 391.
Colorado, travels in, 365. 
INDEX.
Compromise, the Missouri, 106, 282; of
1850, the, 255; how carried, 276, 277.
" Conflict, The American," 421.
CONGER, A. B., 264.
Congress as it was, 225.
Congress, the XXIXth, 207; ability of,
225; the XXXth, prominent members
of, 226; the XXXIVth, contest for
Speakership, 345.
Congress, the Confederate, 402.
Constitution, The (newspaper), 112.
COOK, NOAH, aids The TribunIe, 139.
COOPER, J. FENIMORE, his suits, 261.
Copper regions of Lake Superior, 242.
CORvWIN, HON. THOMAS, of Ohio, 132.
CRA]WFORD, HON. WILLIAM H., 106.
CRITTENDEN, HoN. JOHN J., 253; pro  poses a new Compromise, 316.
CROSWELL, EDWIN, 129.
DALLAS, GEORGE M., 161, 207.
DAVIS, JEFFERSON, declines to support
Gen. Taylor, 252; assails Compromise
measures, 256; suggested for Gover  nor, 278; his career, 410; his arrest,
412; impr isonment, 413 - 415.
DAYTON, WILLIAM L., for Vice-Presi  dent, 353; suggested for President, 391.
Debt, imprisonment for, 344.
DEMETRIUS (POLIOR1CETES), 68, 69.
Democratic Party, conventions at Balti  more, 160, 213; bolt of the Barnburn  es, 213; division of, 392.
Denver, visit to, 365; life in, 366.
Deposits, the removal of, 110.
Desert, the Western, anecdote of, 376.
.Dial, The, quarterly magazine, 109; its
career, 170; failure, 170.
DICKENS, CHARLES, as an actor, 204, 205.
DICKEY, DAVIp WOODBURN, 42.
DIX, JOHN A., 213.
DONELSON, ANDREW J., 290.
DOUGLAS, STEPHEN A., anecdote of, 251;
his history, 291; introduces the Ne  braska Bill, 291; its history, 292; de  feated at Cincinnati, 353; opposes Le  compton, 356; difference with Mr. Bu  chanan, 356; his canvass for the Sen  ate, 357; his success, 35,; his can  vass with Lincoln, 358; icollections
of, 358; his power as a debater, 359;
his death, 359; defeat at Charleston,
392; nomir,nated at Baltimore, 392.
DOWNS, HON. S. U., 256.
Drainage, necessity of, 307.
Dranza,  the, 200- "The Fall of Bona  parte," 200; Bowery Theatre, the old,
202; Richmond Hill, theatre of, 203;
Hamblin, Mrs., Naomi Vincent, at the
old Bowery,, 204.
Dred Scott decision, the, 355.
EASTMIAN, E. G. and C. G., 254.
EMRIBEE, HON. ELIJAH, on Mileage, 223.
EMERSON, RALPH WALDO, editor of The
Dial, 169; on Margaret Fuller, 171.
Employes of Congress, gratuities to, 229.
" Europe,'Glance s  at," 42 0.
EVARTS, WILLIAM AI., 391.
EVERETT, EDWARD, 281, 391.
lE vergqreens,  us    es  of, 301.
EWING, THOMAS, 253.
C FairlLaven, Vt., 50; Sl ate an d  Marble, 60.
CFair, the World's, 268. -
Farm, My, 295.
.Farming, will it p        ay? 310.
FAULKNER, HON CHA       RLES J., 350.
Fever  and Aigue, an attack of, 1 17; how
to cure, 117.
FICKLIN, 0. B., 230, 232.
FIELD,  MAUNSEL B., kindness of,  334.
FILLMORE, MILLARD, nominated for
Vice-President, 212; accession to the
Presidency, 258; Know-Nothing can  didate for, 290; d e f eated,  278.
Fi2ce-Eoaters, the, of  South Carolina,  278.
Fishing, first experience in, 114; devo  tion to, 115;'fifty years ago, 115.
FITZPATRICK, Hok. BENJAMIN, 392.
FOOTE, HON. HENRY S., 256, 278.
FORWARD, HoN. WALTER, 107.
Forest Culture, value of, 304.
FOURIER, CHARLES,            his So cialism, 147.
Fox Family,  The,  235.
FREEMAN, MRS. (Clairvoyant), 236.
FRELINGHUYSEN, THEODORE, 160.
FREMONT, COL. JOHN C., 353.
FULLER, HON. HENRY M., 346.
FULLER, SARAH  M.1RGARET, edits The
Dial, 170; her birth and education,
170; parentage, 171; teaches school,
173; conversational powers, 173; her
writings, 174, 175; in Mr. Greeley's.
family, 177; her work for The Tribune,
177; wonderful range of her abilities,
179; goes to Boston, 182; visits Eu  rope, 182; marriage, 183; Marchioness
d'Ossoli, 183; efforts for Italian free  dom, 184; heroism, 187; embarks for
home, 189; forebodings, 189; death, 190.
Future, The (newspaper), 151.
GALES AND SEATON, anecdote of, 228.
GARRISON, WILLIAM LLOYD, 284.
GATES, SETH M., 213.
Gazette, The Erie, 80, 81.
GIDDINGS, HON. JOSHUA R., 233.
GODWIN, PARIKE, Socialism, 152.
GOGGIN, HON. W. L., 229.
GRAHAM, HON. WILLIAM A., 279.
GIZAHAM, SYLVESTER, 103.
" GRAHAM System," 103.
GItEELEYS, the, migrate to America, 34.
GREELEY, ZACCHEUS (the elder), 34, 35;
JOIHN, 35; GILBEI~T, 35.
GREELEY, ARTHETI  YOUNG, his affection
for Margaret Fuller, 178; Margaret
Fuller's letter to, 188; his sorrow over
her death, 188; his birth, 426; his
character, 426; his death, 428.
GREELEY, HORACE, born, 37; set to work,
620 
INDEX.
ton, 278; impressions of the T)uke, 274;
services at the Great Exposition, 274;
travels on the Continent, 275; recollec tions of the Missouri struggle, 282; re lations to the Missouri movement, 285;
becomes  an Abolitionist,  289; de scription of his farm, 295-301; farming
experience, 309; as a woodchopper,
308; home, 306; brook, 306  crops, 306;
swamp, 307; barn, 308; profits of farm i ng, 310; first acquaintance with Gov  ernor Seward, 31 1; l etter to Seward,
315; last meeting with Seward, 321;
revisits Europe, 323; at the French Ex position, 323; travels in Italy, 327; in
Switzerland, 328, 329; at home again
330; in a French prison, 322; life in
Clichy, 335 - 340; release from prison,
343; visits Washington, the "Banks
Congress,"  345; criticises  Hon. A.
Rust, 348; desires Senator  Douglas's
reelection,  357; travels  across the
Plains,  360;  in Kansas, 361; visits
Denver, 365; in the Rocky Mountains,
368; at Salt Lake,  371; at Camp
Floyd,  374;  relations to  Governor
Seward, 390; his view of Secession,
397; at Lincoln's inauguration, 404;
last interview with Mr. Lincoln, 407;
visits Richmond,  414; bails Jefferson
Davis, 415; as an author, 417; as a
writer of verses, 417; writes "Hints
toward Reforms," 418, writes "Glan  ces at Europe," 420; writes "Overland
Journey to California,"  421; writes
" The American Conflict," 421; how
he composed it, 422; its success, 424.
GIREELEY, MRS.  MARY Y. C., acquaint  ance with Margaret Fuller, 176; directs
the choice of a farm, 296; an anecdote
of, 335.
GREELEY, ZACCHEUS (the younger) mar  ries, 35; buys  a farm  in Amherst,
N. H., 37; hoeing corn, 38; removes
to Bedford, 46; returns to Amherst,
48; becomes  bankrupt,  49; goes to
Hampton, N.Y., 50; migrates to West
haven, Vt., 50; hospitality, 52; clear  ing lands, 56; removes to Flea Knoll
59; returns to the Minot estate, ib.f
looks westward for a new home, 62;
his new home in the Wilderness, 78;
slow clearing, 79; death of, 426.
GREELEY, RAPHAEL UHLAND, birth of,
428; his dea th, 429.
GREGORY, DUDLEY S., 136.
GRINNELL. JOSEPH, 226.
HALE, JoHiN P., 258, 280.
HALL, WILLIS, 125, 126; supports Van
Buren, 126.
HAMLIN, HANNIBAL, 280.
Ha?-binge?, The, periodical, 151.
"Hald Cider," origin of, 132.
HARDIN, COL. JOHNI J., death of, 209.
88; g      oe s        to  school, 4 1; i n Bedford, 46;
offered all education, 47; clearing woodland, 57; fa rming  as a boy,      58, 59; apprenticed to pr inting,  61;  bid     s adieu
to his  family, 6C2;     life  in Poultney, 63;
books, 6 4; visits  h    is parents, 64; life
on a line-boat, 64;  religious faith, 6874; goes West,  75; sets his face to  -
ward New York, 82; reaches the
c    ity, 84; f ind s  wo rk th e re, 85; attends
the Tariff Convention, 86; visits New
Hampshire,   89; goe s into  business, 91;
starts The New-Yorker, 94;  bad  luck
and       hard times, 95 - 97; edits The Jeffersonia,n  at  Albany, 98, 99; smokes
just once, 99; joins a temperance society, 101; prints The Constitution,.112;
belief in " Graham Svstem," 104; experience as a Vegetarian, 105; editing in New York and Albany, 125;
reports in the Assembly, 125; edits
The Lo,-Cabin, 133; establishes The
Tribune, 136; devotion to Henry Clay,
166; illness, 167; gains the ill-will of
The National Intelligencer, 228; serves
on Committee on Public Lands, 230;
proposes to give the United States the
name of Columbia, 232; interview with
a celebrated clairvoyant, 236; theory
of Spiritualism, 238, 239; visits to Lake
Superior, 242, 246; visit to Lake Huron,
243; pedestrian journey in the mining
country, 244; result of mining  experience, 246; attendance on River
and Harbor Convention, 247; journey
through the " wvet prairies," 247; acquaintance with Webster, Clay, and
Calhoun, 251; speaks in Vermont,
253; anecdote of the Brothers Eastman, 254; reasons for opposing Gen.
Taylor, 211; his support of Clay, 211;
theatrical experience in Europe, 204;
at the Duke of Devonshire's theatre.
204; at Fanny Kemble's ddbtit, 205;
theatrical experience in France, 205;
theatrical opinions of, 204; experience
with  borrowers  and  beggars, 192;
studies a part in a tragedy, 200; theatrical experience at Wells, Vt., 201;
first visit to the Theatre, 200; first visit
to the New York Theatre, 202; residence in New York, 176; removes to the
country, 176; acquaintance with Margaret Fuller, 177; first libel suit, 261;
his Fenimore Cooper libel suit, 263,
264; visits the World's Fair, 270;
member  of a jury, 271; nominated
for Congress, 216; elected to Congress,
217; his vote, 217; introduces Land
Reform Bill, 217; prints Mileage Expose, 219; excitement about it, 220;
serves with Abraham Lincoln and
Andrew Johnson, 224; supports Tay lor, 225; meets the Duke of Welling
621 
INDEX.
HARRISON, WILLIAM  tENRY, proposed
for President, 112; nominated, 130; d       e  nounced as a dotard, 132; chosen Pres  ident, 135; death, 135; character, 135.
HASKELL, HON. WILLIAM T., 227.
HEMANS, MRS., 73.
HICKMAN, HON. JOHN, 351.
"Riints toward Rej ornirms," 418.
olideay Excursion, a, 120.
HOLLAND, COL. STEPHEN, 32.
HOOD, JOSEPH E., 411.
HOUSTON, GEN. SAMUEL, 285.
HUDSON, HON. CHARLES, 220.
HULBERT, RICHARD, 126.
HUNT,  HOLMAN, 324.
HUNT, WASHINGTON, 277.
Iniprisonmenzt, account of, 332.
INGE, S. W., assails Hon. 0. B. Ficklin,
233.
Intelligencer, The National, 228.
Italy, travels in, 327.
JACKSON, ANDREW,  President, 107; re  tires, 122; Specie Circular of, 122.
JEFFERSON, THOMAS, death of, 66; on
Slavery, 282; his acquisition of Louisi  ana, 283; admission of Missouri, 284.
Jeffers onian, The, editorial experiences.
with, 125, 126.
JERROLD, DOUGLAS, as an actor, 204.
JOHNSON, ANDREW,  in XXXth  Con  gress, 226; as President, 414.
JOHNSON, HERSCHEL V., 392.
JOhNSON, HON. REVEFRDY, 253.
JOHNSON, HON. ROBERT W., 232.
JOHNSTON, GEN. ALBERT SYDNEY, 375.
JOHNSTON, GEN. JOSEPH E., 411.
Jour?nal, The Albany Evening, 125.
Kansas, settlement of, 355; Border Ruf fianism in, 355; travels in, 361.
KENT, EDWARD, Governor of Maine, 134.
KELLOGG, DAY 0., 126.
KING, PIRESTON, 126.
KING, WILLIAM R., 250, 280.
KKnow-Nothinug Party, 290, 291.
Lake Superior region, resources of, 245;
mining experience in, 245.
Land Bill, introduced by the author, 217.
LANE, GEN. JOSEiPH, 392.
Laramie, Fort, 369.
LAVWRENCE, CORNELIUS W., 111.
LAWRENCE, JAMES R., 126.
LE CHFSNE, M., 338.
Lecocipton Constitution, the, 355.
Leconiptont Bill, the, 356; defeat of, 357.
Legislatur e of 1838, its merits, 126.
LEMON  MARK, acting of, 204.
Libel Suits, general character of, 265.
LINCOLN,  ABRAHAM,  in XXXth  Con  gress, 226; candidate for United States
Senate, 358; nominated for President,
391; chosen, 393: calls out troops, 401;
inauguration, 404; anecdote of, 405;
his tameness, 405; his   firmn ess, 406;
his course, 407; injustice of Congress
to, 408;  his character,  408; contraste d
with  Jefferso     n Davis, 411.
LIND, JENNY, anecdote   of,       237.
Literature as a Vocation,  an Essay, 433.
Liquor Traffic, growth   of, 102.
LIVINGSTON, UNCLE HARRY, 128.
"Log - Cabin" doings, 129.
Lo.q - Cabin, The, edited by the author, its
character, 133; great success of, 134.
Londonderry (Ireland), siege of, 18.
Londonderry (N. H.), settled, 20; growth
of, 21; religion, 23; manners and cus  toms, 24, 27, 28; flax culture, 25; area,
28; in the Revolutionary war, 29 - 33.
LOVEJOY, ELIJAH P., death of, 286.
LUNDY, BENJAMIN, 284.
MIALLARY, HON. ROLLIN C., 66, 67.
MANN,  ABIJAH, 126.
MARCY, HoN. WILLIAM L., 112, 129.
MARSH, HON. GEORGE P., 227.
MARSHALL, CHARLES I-H., 320.
MARSHALL, HUMPHREY. 346.
MASON, HON. JAMES M., 256.
MASON, HON. JOHN Y., in Paris, 334.
M'assachusetts, in XXXth Congr~ess, 226.
MCELRATH, THOMAS, 140.
MCGREGOR, REV. JAMES, 20.
McKAY, HoN. J. J., in XXXth Con  gress, 226; anecdote of, 221.
MCLEAN, HON. JOHN, 354, 391.
AIEREDITIT, HoN. WILLIAM M., 253.
METCALF, HON. THOMAS, 130.
Mte~xico, City of, taken by Gen. Scott, 210.
lfexico, New, ceded  to United  States,
210; Texas sells her claim on, 210.
Michigan, Territory of, 242.
A,Iileage of Congress, 215; amended, 223.
MILLAIS, J. E., his pictures, 324.
Milwaukee, twenty years ago, 248.
MINOT, CliRISTOPHI;HrR, 54; dies, 58.
Mississippi, election in, 278.
MITCHEL, J. C., 281.
MORIEHEAD, Ex-Gov., 212.
MORGAN, WILLIAM, the anti-Mason, 264.
MoRrISONS, the, anecdote of, 26.
Native Americain Party, its origin, 165.
Navy, flogging in the, 228.
Nebr'aska Bill, the, introduced into Con  gress, 291; passage of, 292; its effect
upon Slavery, 294.
Nevadla, visit to. 378; its minerals, 378.
New ~England, charcoal-burning in, 39;
picking stones, 39; picking hops, 40;
"barring out" teachers, 43; spelling  matches, 44; school-books, 44; social
enjoyments, 51.
N'ew lork (State), her electoral vote, 1,88.
New  lork City, as she was in 1831, 54;
hard winters of ante-railroad days, 87;
cholera of 1832, 88.
New-Yorker, The, first issued, 94; bad
luck with, 94; discontinued, 97 133.
Northern Spectator, The, 61; for Adams,
66; stopped, 75.
622 
INDEX
OGDEN, HON. DAVID B., f25.
"OLD ZACK," 207.
ORR, HON. JAMES L.; 350.
OSSOLI, MARIQUIS OF, death of, 190.
OWEN, ROBERT, on Social Reform, 146.
Pacific Rail}oa,d, the, route of, 371.
Palace, the Crystal, description of, 269.
Palo Alto, Battle of, 209.
Panic of 1837, the, 123.
Paris, life in, 323  325.
PATTEr.SON, HoN. GEORGE W., 126.
Pedestrianisni, suggestions as to, 76.
PENDLETON, JOHN S., 227.
PENNINGTON, HON. A. C. M., 346.
Penns?llvania, election in 1844, 207, 208.
PIATT, COLONEL DON, 334.
PIERCE, FRANKLIN, in XXIVth Congress,
225; nominated for President, 279; his
character, 279; not renominated, 353.
Placerville, California, visit to, 379.
Plains, life on the, 372.
Play-Days, 119.
POE, EDGAR A., anecdote'of, 196.
Poets and Poetiry, an Essay, 460.
PALFREY, HON. JOHN G., 226.
POLK, J. K., nominated for President, 160; 
career, 161; Tariff letter, 163; elected
President, 166; inaugurated, 208.
Potato, introduced into New England, 25.
Poultney, Vt., 61; a slave-hunt, 65; cele  bration of July 4th, 1826, 65; present
condition, 66; vote for President in
1828, 67; character of her inhabitants,
75; temperance society organized, 101.
Pi e-Raphaelite School, the, 324.
PRESTON, HoN. WILLIAM BALLARD,i283.
Proviso, the Wilmot. 2.52.
RANDOLPH, HON. JOHN, 281.
Rappings, spiritual, 234, 238.
RAYMOND, HENRY J., 138; controversy
with the author on Socialism, 151; nom  inated for Lieutenant-Governor, 314.
REED, COL. GEORGE, 28- 32.
Registbry Law, the, 313.
Republicas  Convention, the first, in our
State, 314.
Republican Party, rise of the, 294; Na  tional Convention of, 390.
Resaca de la Palma, Battle of, 209.
Revolution, the American, 29- 33, 51.
RICHARDSON, HON. WILLIAM A., 346.
"Richmond, Forward to," 403.
RIPLEY, GEORGE, 168.
RITNEIR, JOSEPH, 130.
ROCKWELL,  HON  JULIUS, 226.
Rocky  fountains, the, 368, 369.
ROGERS, MAJ. ROBERT, 32.
ROOT, GEN. ERASTUS, 129.
ROOT, HoN. JOSEPH M., 226.
ROTHIISCHILD, JAMES, anecdote of, 342.
RUGGLES, LIEUT.-COL. D. C., 375.
RUGGLES, HON. SAMUEL B., 125.
RUST, HON. ALBEIT, h   is pro position, 3 47; 
assails the author, 848.
RUSH, IHON. RICHtARD, 107.
Salt Lake City, visit to, 371, 373.
San.F'?'acisco, its growth, 388.
SANTA ANNA, defeat of, 209.
SAWYER,  HoN. WILLNIAL, 221.
SAWYER, REV. THOMAS J., 70.
SCAMcrON,  JOHN  Y., e    xcursion  with,
247.
SCHENsCK, HON;.  R OBERT C., 221,.
SCHOOLCIRAFT, HON. JOHIN, 317.
SCHULTZE, GOv. JOHN A., 130.
Scotch-lI ish, the, 17, 19; in America, 21  28;  i n    the Revo lutio n, 29.
SCOTT, GEN. WINFIELD, supported for
President at Harrisburg, 131; lands at
Vera Cruz, 209; marches into Mexico,
209; defeats Santa Anna, 209; takes
Chepultepec, 210; c  aptures   Mexi co,
210; defeated for nomination in 1848,
212; nominated for President, 279; his
relations to Se cessio     n, 403.
Sea-Sicknesso, 1experience of, 331.
Secession Par-ty, how composed, 395.
Secession, progress of, 401.
"SEWARD,'WEED,  AND GREELEY," al  leged political firm  of,  311; differ  enlces, 312; dissolution, 315.
SEWARD, HON. WILLIAM W., opposes Van
Buren, 129; favors Harrison, 131; candi  date for Governor, 112; opposes Com  promise, 258; defends the author in
libel suit, 264; sketch of, 311; remains
aloof from the Republican Party, 314;
recent relations with, 321; visits Eu  rope and Asia, 321; his Presidential
aspirations, 322; intellectual stature,
322; candidate for President, 390.
SEYMOUR, HORATIO, 277, 315.
SHEA, GEORGE, 414.
Slheep, their agricultural value, 302.
SHEPARD, DR. HORATIO D., 91-93.
SIBLEY, DERICK, 126.
,Sierra Nevada, the, 378; timber, 380.
"Silver Grays," the, canvass in New
York, 277; in Connecticut, 277.
Slaver,y Question, 227; struggle upon, 254.
Slave Power, the, rise of, 287.
SMITH, AZARIAH, 126.
SMITH, HON. SA~tJEL A., resolve of, 351.
SNOW, GEORGE M., his death, 139.
Socialism, 144; I am attracted by, 145;
the evils it sought to cure, 145; my creed
with reference to, 147; efforts in behalf
of, 152; Brook-l,arm, its career, 152;
" Sylvania Association," 152; Phalanx
the "North American," 153, 154; As  sociation, practical difficulties of, 154;
Communism, 155; " Ebenezer," the
Society of,  155* "Zoar community,"
155, 156; Cooperation, its philosophy,
157; Perfectionists, community of, 158;
Shakers, community of,  158; Comte,
his philosophy, 158; Association, prob  able future of, 158.
623 
INDEX.
Societies, Temperance, in America, 98.
Society, fifty years ago, 100.
Southern States, the Secession of, 898, 399.
Specie Payment suspended in 1837, 127.
SPENCER, HON. AMBROSE, 160.
SPENCER, HON. JOHN C., 129.
Spirituous Liquors, rejected, 101.
Stage, the French, 205; its naturalness,
205; American, its degradation, 206.
STANBERRY, HENRY, anecdote of, 292.
STARK, GEN. JOHN, 29-31.
State Rights in Mississippi, 278.
STEPHENS   HON.  ALEXANDER  H.,  in
- XXXth Congress 226; his ability, 227.
STERRETT, JOSEPH M., 80.
STILWELL,  SILAS M., 112.
STORY, FRANCIS V., 88, 91, 93, 94.
ST. SnION, his social system, 146.
SYLVESTER; MR. S. J., 91, 93.
TALLMADGE, HON. N. P., 127, 128.
Tariff of 1842, its repeal, 207.
TAYLOR, BAYARD, 326.
TAYLOR,  GENERAL  ZACHARY,  crosses
the Rio Grande, 208; defeats Santa
Anna, 209; his character, 211; claims
on the Whig party, 211; nominated for
President, 212; elected, 213; charac  ter, 214; administration of, 214; death,
214; a wise and good ruler, 215; his
inauguration, 233; anecdote of, 252.
TENNYSON, ALFRED, on Restoration, 72.
T,exas, Annexation of, 161, 208.
THOMPSON, HoN. RICHARD W., 232.
THOMPsON. HoN. SMITH, 107.
THORNTON Di. MATTHErW, 32, 33.
TOOMBS, HON. ROBErT, 226.
TOUCEY, HON. ISAAC, 277.
Ts iaiscendentalists, the sect                 of, 169.
Travsel, foreign,n vi ews of, 325, 326.
Tree-Pl anting, 301.
Tribune,  The    N      ew Yo rk, first issued,
136;  reas     ons   for  its foundat ion, 136;
friends who  aided it, 136; policv and
purpose, 137; journalism in New York,
its v    icissitudes, 13 8;          difficulties in pub  lishing, 139;                          as a           penny paper, 141;
inc    re      ase in   size and price, 142; support
of Clay, 167; circulation of, 167; sued
for libel by J. Fenimore Cooper, 261.
TWIGGS, GENE,RAL DAVID E., 400.
TYLER.  HON. JOTIN, at the Harrisburg
Convention, 130; nominated for Vice  President, 131; supports Clay, 131;
his political record, 131; succeeds to
the Presidency. 159; quarrels with the
Whigs, 159; signs the Ann-exation Bill,
208.
ULLMANN, DANIEL, 815.
Union, The Washington, 228.
Utah Expedition, the, 374.
Utah, travels in, 374.
VAN BUREN, HON. MARTIN, 107; char  acter, 113; relation to Jackson, 113; is
Lnaugurated President, 121; calls Con
ges together, 123; New Yorkn agai nst
this administration, 129; defeat ed a t
Baltimore, 1 60; nomina ted  by  the
Barnburners, 2            13.
VANCE, GENERAL JOSEPh,      130.
VAN NESS, raGov. CfORNELIUS PETER, 66.
VATTEMARE, M. (Alexandre ), 338.
Vegetarianism, it s   advantages, 105.
VFNABLE, tHoe3. A. W.,  226.
VERPLANCK, GULIAN C.,a, 111, 125.
VINTON, HON. SAMUEL F.,      226.
Vir-ginia, Secession of, 400.
WA.LKER, HOw. ROBERT J., 207.
War against the Rebellion, the, 400.
Wai  for the Rebellioni, progress of, 401.
WASHBURNE, HON. ELIHV B., 343.
WEBSTEiR, DANIEL, lingers in Tyler's
Cabinet, 159; defeated for nomination,
212; character, 250; 7th of March
speech, 256; death, 259, 279.
WEED, Ti-iURLOW, introduction to, 124;
opposes Van Buren, 129; favors Har  rison's nomination, 131; libel-suit with
Fenimore Cooper, 262; literary tastes,
262; libel experiences, 265; his char  acter, 313; holds aloof from the Re  publican Party, 314; elected State
rinter, 817; favors Crittenden Com  promise, 396.
WELLINGTON, the Duke of, 273, 274.
WENTWORTIH, HON. JOHN, 223.
Westhaven, Vt., 50- 56.
WESTMOlRELAND, LORD, anecdote of, 273.
WTzig Par-ty, the, its first canvass, 111; de  feat in. 1836, 113; carries New York in
1837, 124; again in 1839, 127; first
National Convention of, 130; the apos  tates from, 167; *paralyzed by Tylerism,
160; National Convention, 160; Na  tional Convention at Philadelphia, 212;
nominates Taylor and Fillmore, 212;
T aylor's election a virtual defeat, 215;
* last success in New York City, 217;
dissolution of, 276; State Convention
of, 277; death of, 280.
WHITE. DR. FORTUNE C., 126.
WHIT'E, JUDGE JAMES W., 318.
WILLIS, N. P., anecdote of, 426.
WINCHESTER, MR. JONAS, 94.
WINN, CYRUS, teacher, 42.
WINTHROP, HON. ROBERT C., 208.
Wisconsin, twenty years ago, 248.
WOODBURN, JOHN, 20; death of, 426.
WOODBURN, MARY, married to Zaccheus
Greeley, 35; teaching her children, 41;
in Vermont, 67; in Pennsylvania, 78;
broken down and worn out, 78.
WOODBURY, HONX. LEVI, 160.
Woods, description of, 298.
WRIGHT, SILAS, 129; nominated for Vice  President, 161; his popularity, 161;
tariff speech, 164; his subtlety, 164.
Yosemite Valley, the, 381; visited, 382.
YOUNG, COL. SAMUEL, of Saratoga, 128.
624 
A BOOK OF SURPASSING INTEREST.
HORACE GREELEY'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
RECOLLECTIONS OF A BUSY LIFE.
An elegant octavo volume; a superb specimen of typography. Illustrated with
the best STEEL PORTRAIT OF MR. GREELEY ever published, and with various
beautiful Engravings, Pictures of his various Homes, his Farm, etc., etc., together
with a beautiful Portrait of MARGARET FULLER, engraved by LINTON.
Mr. Greeley has said of it: " I shall never write anything else into which I shall
put so much of myse.l; my experiences, notions, convictions, and modes of thought,
as these RECOLLECTIONS. I give, with small reserve, my mental history."
The book embraces views of early New England settlement, the author's own
youthful life, education, apprenticeship, adventures, professional and political
reminiscences, experience in Congress, newspaper-life in New York, and much
useful talk about farms and farming. It is a peculiarly entertaining and valuable
work, -a look behind the scenes during an important period of the country's history, - a book to be read with interest by Business Men, Farmers, Literary Men,
Young Men, Students of the Times, the Women of America, Politicians, Men of
the South, Northern Loyalists, Intelligent Thinkers of all Classes.
PRICES:  Extra Cloth, $3.50; Library Style (Sheep), $4.50; Half Morocco,
$5.00; Half Calf, elegant, $ 6.00. Sold only by Subscription. Exclusive territory
given. 
J. B.  FORD  &  CO.,
164 NAssAU ST., PRINTING-HOUSE SQUARE, NEW YORK.
Opinions of the Press, Religious and Secular, of all shades of politics, and in
every section of the country, may be found on this and the following pages.
manner in which the work has been accomplished, and the points of interest which it presents to the public, we are not at liberty to
speak in this journal. The mechanical execution of the work is highly creditable to the
publishers. It is printed on type and paper of
unusual excellence, and the binding is at once
substantial and elegant. The portrait of Mr.
Greeley, from Brady's photograph, is a striking likeness, and the other embellishments of
the volume add both to its interest and value
Independent.
We venture to predict for this book a large
sale.  It is valuable as a truthful record of the
career of one of the most remarkable men in
America, and as a sketch of some of the most
important events in the later history of the
country.
New York Tribune.
The personal career of Mr. Greeley was
brought before the public several years ago, in
the lively volume devoted to his biography,
by Mr. James Parton.   No materials, however, were furnished for that work by Mr.
Greeley himself, who had never been in the
habit of preserving any memoranda relating to
his own history, and the present volume, accordingly, is the first production on the subject which can claim an autobiographical character.' At the same time, it of course involves
copious reminiscences of the political developments of the last twenty-five years. Of the
New York Times.
One of the most amusing things we have
heard lately is that Mr. Greeley's just publ ished Recollections, a book which began by
selling furiously in the Middle and New England States, finds, out West, a serious obstacle in the bailing of Jefferson Davis.  In the
first place, we had supposed that everybody
h ad come to rejoice at Mr. Greeley's conduct
in helping to relieve the government  of an
I 
2
embarrassing prisoner, whom they were not
ready to try, whom they wanted within reach,
and whom yet they did not wish to keep in
confinement, not being able to give himwhat the worst criminal may claim- a fair
and speedy trial.  But, aside from that, the
bailing affair was but one incident in Greeley's
Busy Life, and if his oddities are worth reading about at all, certainly that one, which so
stirred up the minds of his disciples, is just
the one which they ought to understand. It
is funny to see how people will let their political feelings and prejudices warp their common
sense.
Boston Transcript.
Mr.  Greeley is emphatically a self-made
man, who has risen from poverty to wealth,
from obscurity to eminence, without any sacrifice of self-respect or independence.  He has
crawled to no position he has ever gained, but
has won  it by fair labor  or fair fight.  The
number of eminent public men with whom he
has been associated or comn into collision
makes his volume a contribution to politics as
well as to the cause of self-culture.
Brick Pomeroy's Democrat.
(N. Y.)
Christian Advocate and Journal.
(N. Y.)
There are many reasons why men should
read books, and these which run counter to
our own opinions are often quite as enjoyable
and quite  as   instructiv  e  as those with  which
we agree. T         her e         is    pro    bably no  intelligent
man  m      in this w hol e  count ry who has n ot heard
of Horace Greeley and of the Sew York Tribune,-for the   two are  inseparable, -and who
does not   know of the colossal  influence which
the man and the journal have wielded in
American history. Be it for bad or good, it is
a power, and one that we cannot afford to let
go uncomprehended. In these Recollections,
Mr. Greeley gives more of an insight into his
life and motives than he ever has done befole; and as the history of a self-made man,
who, by using natural ability with industry,
earnestness, and sobriety, has placed himself high among the actors of the national
drama, they deserve to be read, and, we doubt
not, will be.
A goodly octavo here presents to the public
a pretty full, and doubtless a very accurate, autobiography of the famous "philosopher" of
the Tribune.  Mr. Greeley's has unquestionably been a busy life, and it was, perhaps, wise
in  him to write it out while yet his "recollections" were unimpaired by old age. For orty
years he has been watching the course of public affairs, and for more than three quarters of
that period he has been an active participator
in them.  Hence his "recollections" constitut e a   pretty full history of the country for
th os e years, especially as respects politics and
the newspaper press.
Scientific American. (N. Y.)
Horace Greeley is a strong man every way;
strong in his likes and dislikes, in his opinions
and prejudices.  Mentally and physically, his
powers of endurance are such as to excite the
admiration of all who know the amount of
work he daily gets through.... As a moral
tonic, we have seldom seen a book that we
would more readily place in the hands of a
family, or one that we should expect to see
sooner well thumbed.
Evangelist. (N. Y.)
For thirty years — the lifetime of a generation-he has been not only an interested
spectator, but an active participant in all the
controversies of the day.  He has fought in
every campaign from the days of Jackson.
Within that time almost all the great men who
were upon the stage when he began his career
have passed away. Though a private citizen,
no man has done more than he to set up or
pull down political idols.  His long observation of public mien and measures is invaluable
in the record which he gives.  No  man, since
the death of John Quincy Adams, has been
more familiar with the political history of the
country, or has furnished to it a more valuable
contribution.
American  Journal of MIining.
(N. Y.)
The book is a delightful one, interesting on
every page to the young Americans for whom
it was especially intended. Who does not
know how dry and dusty is the labor of extracting from files of newspapers or contemporary records that political history of the
country which has not yet assumed its final
form on the rolls of Clio.? And, on the other
hand, who does not know howchlarming it is
to bear some hale old politician tell again the
stories of his past campaigns? How eagerly
we ask him about the actors who have long
since left the stage! How we thrill again at
the songs and watchwords of " Log-Cabin
Days I " How we seem to hear again tall
New York Ledger.
There are few men - entirely apart from his
political views - the study of whose  lives
would be so instructive to the boys and young
men of the country as that of the Hon. Horace Greeley.  He has risen by his own exertions, until he is now one of the most widely
and most favorably known of living men.  We
2
congratulate the new house of J. B. Ford &
Co. on having such a popular work to introduce them to the publishing world. 
3
Harry ofthe West, or Webster, built of granite
fused with fire, or keen Calhoun, or dauntless
Douglas!  This chatty volume gives all these
things, and more.
tinction in the politics and literature of his
time should be read and studied by every boy
who has nothing to rely upon but his own
strong hands and stout heart. The beautiful
tribute to Margaret Fuller forms one of the
most interesting chapters of the work, and
will prove of deep and lasting interest to all
admirers of this noblest type of American
women.
A  handsome volume,- handsome in every
particular of mechanical execution.... The
autobiography is full of interest for every
reader, and full of instruction for every young
man. Whatever differences of opinion there
may be in regard to the political and social
theories of Horace Greeley, he stands to-day
as a strong power in this country, and the influence which he exerts cannot be shaken, for
it rests on the firm foundations of intellectual
ability, constant work, and moral honesty.
Anti-Slavery St andard.
His account  o       f       Margaret  Fuller, who  was
for a time an inmate of their family, is especially     intere    sting. He  speaks of her as
" the most remarkabled,ad, in sone  respects,
the greatest woman America has yet known."
The publishers have added materially to
the value and interest of the book in securing
a finely executed portrait of Margaret Fuller
by Mr. W. J. Linton, the distinguished English engraver, by whom she was personally
known.
Examiner and Chronicle. (N. Y.)
Mr. Horace Greeley's "Recollections of a
Busy Life," as published in the Ledger, with
considerable additional matter, is published by
Messrs. J. B. Ford &  Co. in a handsome
volume. Besides this frank setting forth of
the author's opinions, and the unconscious
self-portraiture that one must make in such a
writing, the volume is a valuable summary of
some leading facts in our recent political history, as seen from his point of view, and a
picture of same phases of American life, which
it is well to have photographed before their
final disappearance.
The Nation. (N. Y.)
Perhaps there is not in the United States a
better known name than that of Horace Greley. There can be no doubt, therefore, that
these "Recollections" of his busy life will
have readers in good store; and with better
reason than many books multitudinously read.
Such a career as this volume describes, conducting its hero up from the depths of an extremne though not sordid poverty to the eminent position in the world of politics and journ alism which he achieved, might well make a
wiser man than Mr. Greeley'think more highly than he ought to think of his own share in
effecting the great changes he had witnessed,
and to over-estimate the importance of the
part he had had in them.
Boston Advertiser.
His history of the "American Conflict"
was begun soon after the decisive battle of
Gettysburg, and we have here a very interesting account of the way in which that laborious
work was executed.  Its sale was wide and
rapid until the "bailing" affair occurred, and
that all but stopped it.  For the "Recollections" we predict a broader and an enduring
demand.  Its intrinsic excellences and interest
will always secure for it an honorable place              on
the biographical shelf.
Hartford (Ct.) Courant.
We are exceedingly obliged to Mr. Bonner
of the Ledg. er, for asking Mr. Greeley to write
these  "Recollections," to Mr. Greeley for
complying with the request, and to the publishers of this book for giving it to the world
in so attractive a form. We who have known
Mr. Greeley from the early days of the Tribune, nay, even back of that, through the LogCabin and  New- Yorker days,  find many
things in the book which we knew very well
before, but also many things which are fresh
and new.... We can assure those who buy
this book that they will greatly enjoy it.
Frederick (Md.) Republican.
This history of the struggles and triumphs
of one who has achieved such marked dis
3
Providence (R. 1.) Journal.
Littell's Living Age.
We shall find opportunities to make this
record of a remarkable man well known to
our readers. Mr. Gre6ley has been an important part of the late years of the Republic.
Washington (D. C.) Evening
Star.
Since Franklin's autobiography, we know of
"Othing in the autobiographical way of such
fa s, inati"g interest as G,eeley's frank, straightforward, racily told story of his own career.
We date,ay that the autobiographies of the
two printer-statesmen-not unlike in sone
respects - will be read by our grandchildren
th,Ul favor. 
4
er points in the two publications.  We trust
that this new house may not expend its vigor
at the start, but nmay persevere in well-doing
and prosper in the end, as it most assuredly
will.
Springfield (1Vfass.) Republican.
This, doubtless, gives us a truer idea of Mr.
Greeley than a more full and elaborate biography by any other hand could do.  But the
great majority of men are moved more by
feeling than argument, and there is probably
not another living writer in this country who
has exerted so wide an influence as the veteran
editor of the Tribune.
Working Farmer.
J. B. Ford & Co., New York, have recently published several new and valuable works,
which deserve special mention in our columns.
First, we hIave "Recollections of a Busy
Life," with miscellaneous papers, by that worthy and famous farmer's son, Horace Greeley.
This   book ought to be in every public and private   library, where it shall be accessible to
every young man in the land.  Mr. Greeley's
farm experiences, both as boy and man, as related'by his vigorous pen, are sQ diverting that
we feel tempted to quote liberally for the delectation of our roral readers; but as lack of
space compels us to forbear this month, we
advise them  to write to the publishers for a
copy of the work.
]Louisville (Ky.) Journal.
These letters were very popular when appearing in the Ledger, and now when revised
and in part rewritten by the author, and with
original matter added, they cannot fail to be
far more valuable in their present elegant and
substantial form.  To the student, the ambitious or the poor boy, these letters are full of
instruction and hope. They abound in anecdotes, in humor, and wise counsel.
Army and Navy Journal.
The recollections of the  life of this prominent journalist, which has indeed been a busy
one, must undoubtedly prove both cheering
and instructive to those American boys who
are struggling under difficulties incident to
poverty and obscurity, and to whom his autobiographical sketches are dedicated.....
The present volume is the first we have received bearing the imprint of Ford & Co., who
are deserving of much praise.for the excellence
of its typographical appearance, and also for
the good taste displayed in all the mechanical
details of the book.
Philadelphia Inquirer.
All classes of American readers will findd ma terial for grave thought in this volume, origi nally a series of sketches written for the New
York Ledger.  Collectively, in this volume,
* they relate the mental history of one of the
boldest thinkers and most forcible writers in
this country. The "Recollections" have been
changed from their original shape,  by Mr.
Greeley himself, for this volume; all of them
have been revised; to one half of them addi tions have been made, and a number of entire ly new topics have been added.
Packard's Monthly. 
A VIGOROUS PUBLISHING HousE.-Messrs.
J. B. Ford & Co., who have recently inaugurated a subscription  publishing house in this
city, give evidence of fitness for their work in
their first production, which happens to be
Greeley's  "Recollections of a Busy  LIife."
The book is a credit to the country, and should
be an everlasting reproach to certain publishers who make much money at Hartford.  Compare Mr. Greeley's portrait here with the miserable caricature under which his name is
printed in Mrs. Stowe's "Eminent Men," recently brought out by a Hartford house.  It                   i      s
like comparing day with night. And so of oth
Many lives are busy ones, and not a few
persons are in the habit of thinking themselves
overworked a great part of the time; but we
venture to say that but few workers have,
through so long a series of years, crowded so
many hours of earnest thought and intense
action into each day as has Horace Greeley
during the last forty years, or, indeed, from almost the day of his birth, February 3,.8-r.
It would be profitable to follow Mr.
Greeley through the account of his struggles
with poverty and opposition, but space will
not permit to thoroughly review a book so
teeming with matters of present interest.
4
I
The Methodist. (N. Y.) 
A NEW STANDARD WORK FOR CITY AND COUNTRY.
The Greatest Horse-Book ever Published!
HI IRAM WOODRUTIF
ON THE
TROTTING-HORSE OF AMERICA:
HOW TO TRAIN AND DRIVE HIM.
With Reminiscences of the Trotting-Turf. The Results of the Author's Forty
Years' Experience and Unequalled Skill in Training and Driving, together with a
Store of interesting Matter concerning Celebrated American Horses. Edited by
CHARLES J. FOSTER, of "Wilkes's Spirit of the Times."
Every one who knows-anything of the history of horses in America knows that
HIRAM WOODRUFF might almost be said to have been the creator of our distinctively national animal, the Trotter. The value of this record of his experience, and
these suggestions of his skill, cannot, therefore, be doubted as a standard authority
in the technicalities of horse-training; while the graphic style of his description,
and the vivid pictures he gives of successive periods in the development of the
breeding and perfecting of horses in this country, and the many interesting episodes
naturally occurring in the course of the work, combine with its more solid qualities
to make it a rare book.
Gentlemen owning horses, professional trainers avd drivers, farmers, having the
opportunity or the desire of breeding good trotting stock, to supply the rapidly
growing demand, or even to increase the speed of their own horses,- every man
who has, or drives, or loves the noble animal, will find this book invaluable, and
almost indispensable.
The book is a handsome 12mo, and contains a splendid Steel-plate portrait of
HIRAM WOODRUFF.  Price, Extra Cloth, $ 2.25; Half Calf, $ 4; Full Calf, $ 5.
SINGLE COPIES sent on receipt of price.  The TRADE promptly supplied.
CANVASSERS find this an easy book to sell. Liberal terms, but no exclusive territory given.
J. B. FORD & CO.,
164 NASSAU ST., PRINTING-HOUSE SQUARE, NEW YORK.
Opinions of the Press, and of the most noted Professional  Trainers and
Drivers of the day will be found on this and the following pages.
From the celebrated Trainer,                    From the famous Driver, Dan
S. D. Hoagland.                                        Mace.
EAST NEW YORK, Oct. 20, 1868.                           NEW  YORK, Oct. 22, a868.
MR. CHARLES FOSTER: Sir: -I have read           CHARLES J. FOSTER: Dear Sir:-I am
the book of which you sent me a handsome   much obliged to you for Hiram  Woodruffs
copy, - Hiram's book, - and I want to say   book.  Some think that my opinion of it may
what I think about it. It is the most excellent, be of service to the young men in the country,
careful, and practical book about horses that I  and here it is: This is the best horse-book
ever saw; and it cannot be too strongly rec-  that I have ever seen, and a precious sight
ommr.ended to those who have either trotters  better than  I ever expected to see, until I
or family horses.  The likeness of my  old  found that Hiram and you had set to work at
friend Hiram is capital.  Yours respectfully,    one together.  It will be invaluable to those
S. D. HOAGLAN.   I who have young trotters; and if a man will
0 
2
only study it thoroughly, and follow what is
set down, he may with good sense and plenty
of practice come in time to train and drive as
well as I do.  Yours truly,
D. MACE.
the author in developing the speed and endurance of the trotter, and  his method of
training and driving is accepted by turfmen as
the perfection of that art. This method is
fully set forth in this volume,  accompanied
with abundant illustrations of its correctness
by the track performances of many of our most
celebrated trotting horses.  To horsemen in
particular the book will be found especially
attractive and of great value. It will become
a standard authority on the subject of whicl
it treats.
From Hiram Woodruff's legiti    mate successor, Dan Pfifer.
CYPRESS HILLS, L. I., Oct. 31, i868.
CHARLES J. FOSTER, ESQ.: Sir: - Hiranm
Woodruff's book is sure to be of very great
service to the young men of the country who
have got young horses.  I have read it through
more than once. People who have horses
should read it carefully, and follow the directions set down for the treatment, feeding,
training, and driving of trotters.  It makes
me  remember old times, when  I read the
story of Ripton, for I was with Hiram then.
Yours truly,              D. PFIFER.
New York Times.
This b       ook wi b     ecome the manual ofthe
roadsters.  Woodruff was king of the horsetrainers, and the rationale of his system shows
that he  wa s a man   of excellent judgment,
while his many successes on the course furnish
the best commentary on his  m ode s  of equine
management. The book is calculated to be
a very popular one, for every one who drives
a nag in hartness will have the ambition to
read it, and it has an excellent narrative style.
Indeed, if this was the style of Mr. Woodruff
himself, he must have been as clever in his
talk with men as in his management of horses.
The book is handsomely got up, with a
well-executed portrait of the late New York
Mareschal and Master of Horse.
This book has been put before the public
in a very handsome and complete style, by
Messrs. J. D. Ford & Co., of this city, and
we observe from our exchanges that it is receiving handsome notices from the press.  The
estimation in which we hold it is well known
to our readers.  We believe it to be the most
fractical and instructive book that ever was
published concerninzg the trotting horse; and
#iose who own or take care of horses of other
descriptions may buy and read it with a great
deal of profit.  Besides all this, it is a work
of great interest.
New York Tribune.
This is a masterly treatise by the master
of his _rofession, -the ripened product of
forty years' experience in handling, training,
riding, and driving the trotting horse. There
is no book like it in any language on the
subject of which it treats.  It is accepted as
authority by the owners of racing trotters, and
of fast roadsters.  Its publication has  been
hailed by gentlemen as critically appreciative
as Robert Bonner, and by trainers and drivers as distinguished as Sam Hoagland, Dan
Mace, and Dan Pfifer. The book is unquestionably  one of great value.   For in
America and England the development of the
horse has long been considered second only
in importance to the development of man.
This work contains the results of forty years'
uninterrupted labor in bringing the trotter up
to the highest speed and the greatest endurance of which he is capable. Before we read it
we had seen with curious surprise very hearty
commenldation of it and eulogy of its author
in the leading Presbyterian, Baptist, and
Methodist journals. No wonder, for Hiram
Woodruff's system is based on the law of love.
Mr. Bonner's New York Ledger.
Hiram Woodruff was the great trainer of his
day; but, by his unsullied integrity and unequalled capacity, he rose above his profession.
No man could ever say of him that he had his
price.  Indeed, it is the universal testimony
of all who knew him, - friends and foes, - that
his integrity was absolutely unassailable.  In
this work, which has been ably, carefully, and
judiciously edited by his faithful friend Mr.
Charles J. Foster, are recorded for the benefit
of the public at large, his life-long experiences;
his sayings  and  doings;  his authoritative
views on almost everything pertaining to the
horse.  It is a book for which every snan
whto owns a horse ought to subscribe.   The
information which it contains is worth ten
times its cost; and we hope for the sake of
the widow who owns the copyrighlt, that the
sales may, at least, reach one hundred thousand copies.
Brick Pomeroy's Democrat.
Hiram  Woodruff,  a  life-like portrait of
whom adorns the book, of course needs no
introduction to any American who cares anything about horses.  His  life was  one continued benefit to that noble animal, one prolonged and successful effort to improve  its
6
t
6
Wilkes's Spirit of the Times.
Ne-vv York Herald.
The author of this work stood at the head
of his profession as a trainer and driver of the
trotting horse.....
The book under consideration is the matured result of forty years' labor on the part of 
3
condition, speed, and usefulness to man.  His
memory is that of a man proverbially honorable and of unapproached  excellence in his
calling.  What Hiram Woodruff did not know
about horses, and particularly the training of
good colts and the driving of trotting horses,
is hardly worth the knowing.  What he did
know, he has put into this book.
forty years this veteran horseman trained,
rode, drove, and talked horse, and held almost
undisputed sway upon the American turf. He
came from a race of h    orsemen, and the horse
was his especial pet and favorite. With him
it was no ephemeral passion, but a life-long
love; and on his death-bed, true to the instincts of his nature, the last clearly articulate
word that he spoke was " horse."  Sucl was
the author of the book before us, and to this
his only literary effort he brought not only a
great love and pride of vocation, but a keen
insight into all matters connected therewith,
and an experience rarely, if ever, equalled.
The (N. Y.) Liberal Christian
(Unitarian).
We have a decided distaste for everything
connected with horse-racing, and when  the
"Trotting Horse of America" was put into our
hands the book dropped of its own weight on
to the table.  Ashamed of this prejudice, we
took it up, and soon found ourselves reading
at full pace about the way colts should be
raised, and horses trained, and racers cared
for, and the breed improved..... In reading
the book we were struck with the analogy
between the scientific treatment of the horse
and the best treatmient of the human being.
.... What a pity parents   and teachers would
not learn wisdeom from the horse-trainer!
San Francisco Bulletin.
Not  only t he  patrons of the turf, but  all who
take an interest in equine affairs, will welcome
the ample volume with the above title, which
has just appeared from the press of J. B.
Ford & Co., New York. The author, the
late Hiram Woodruff, was an eminent authority in the specialty to which he devoted
his life. Probably no man of his time knew
more about horses, loved them with a more
ardent love, and was better qualified'to do
them justice.
Springfield (Mass.) Republican.
There  is, we  repeat, a great deal of instruction in the  work, and we may add, there
is a great deal of spirit and piquancy as well.
We should call The Trottin,g Horse of
,4 neerica indispensable to horsemen, and it is
by no means uninteresting reading for any,
not included in that category, who are capable of sympathizing at times with the enthusiasm of others in a pursuit which does not so
immediately appeal to the outside observers
themselves.
The volume before us contains the best
results of Woodruff's large observation and
matured judgment, in regard to the breaking,
feeding, and training of horses.  It is full of
shrewd remarks and sound rules.  Those who
know  nothing about a horse, or not much,
will be surprised at the amount of information
and the variety of directions contained; and
to see how truly the care and handling of the
horse rise to the dignity of a science.
Boston Watchman and Reflector,
(Baptist).
Boston Traveller.
The volu~me embraces a wonderful amount
of information on its subject, admirably prepared and presented, and really leavinz little
pnore to be desired on tlat subject, till the
passage of years shall have furnished new illustrations of it.  Mr. Foster has edited the
work well and discreetly, and the biographical
sketch he gives of Mr. Woodruff is a model
piece of writing; and Mr. Wilkes gives an introductory sketch of the great trainer that is
worthy of his strong and lively pen.   A strikig portrait of Mr. Woodruff adorns the volume, which is got up in very elegant style.
One may read a       nd study  this book with
profit, for it was written by a man who loved
the horse, knew his peculirities, and from the
experience of years utters words of wisdom as
to the best way of training and driving the
noblest animal ever given to man for service.
The advice, She sugg-estio,,s, the rulIes given
in the book are invaluable. If we owned a
"stable," we would make our grooms study
it; if we were a Vermont farmer, each son
should have a copy, for, while it is specially
devoted to trotting horses, the work contains
valuable information for every man who owns
or drives a horse.
Worcester Spy.
Mr. Woodruff,  whose experience and  observation for forty years have prepared him
to discuss this subject in the best manner, has
given us a book that all interested in trotting
horses will be likely to study.  It has the in
7
Round Table.
t
San Francisco Times.
There are very few lovers of the trotting-turf
to whom the name'of Hiram Woodruff is not
as familiar as a household word. For nearly
6 
4
dorsement of George Wilkes and Robert Bonner, and is undoubtedly the best book  on the
subject that has ever been written.
suggestions and instructions for rearing stock,
breaking, or rather "educating"  colts, and
full details of practical experience. It is accompanied by a sketch and portrait of Woodruff, and wil be sought for  by every owner,
breeder, or lover' of the korse in the land.
Boston Post.
A volume which, from the glance we have
given it, we should say was worthy the experience of a man who did more than any one
else to raise the standard of our fast horses.
Catholic World (Monthly).
It is one of those rare books which, while got
up for a special purpose, and seemingly suited
to the few, overleaps the narrow limits apparently prescribed, and attracts to itself the
favorable notice of the entire community.
Philadelphia Press.
It may be characterized, briefly but emphatically, as the best, because the most
practical and  "knowledgable"  book  upon
trotting horses ever printed.
The American Farmer.
It is the mPnost comfilete work of the kind,
and possesses all the fascination of a novel,
even to others than horsemen.
Boston Advertiser.
A book thoroughly unique in its way.
Working Farmer.
We commend the work under consideration tofarners in all sections of the country.
It is calculated to do great good, and to teach
them many things about the horse which they
probably do not but ought to know.
American Agriculturist.
This is the title of a very neat s2mo volume.
.... It was published in chapters in kvilkes's
S.irit of the Times, and now, as soon after
the death of the famous trainer as possible, it
is given to the public, and will be found of
great interest to all who love a good horse.
The first eleven chapters, together with others
scattered through the book, are chiefly instructive on handling, feeding, training  etc.
Others are reminiscences of the trotting-turf,
told in a very pleasant way.  It contains 4      d2
pages, with a portrait of the author, and will.
no doubt meet, and worthily, with a very extensive sale.
The record of his experience and suggestions constitutes, therefore, a valuable accession  to  our knowledge, and  will  prove  to be of
standard authority among  the in ost skinful.
The graphic style of his descriptions, the
vivid pictures he draws of the breeding and
education of his favorites, and the reminiscences he recalls of incidents on the turf, form
a work of great merit.... Those who  are
desirous to form an accurate idea of the
characteristics of the trotting horse, for their
benefit as riders or drivers, cannot find any
other work in our language so refilete with
useful i;formation, interesting hints,  and
readable anecdotes. Hiram Woodruff is now
dead, and it will be many a year before we
shall look upon his equal in his line of business.
Boston Cultivator.
While this book was written by one'preeminently skilled in his art, and especially
designed for all interested in the breeding,
training, as well as all else that relates to the
horse, It cannot fail of being attractive to the
general reader.....We  therefore commend
It as deserving a flace in all iublic libraries,
and especially so to the notice of Farmers'
Clubs, wherever they have been organized.
While, as the work of an enthusiastic horseman, and with a true purpose, a large part of
the book is made up of " reminiscences of the
trotting-turf," there  is a  vast deal else exhibiting the grasp of a master in the art of
training and caring for the animals he so profoundly appreciated. It is, then, not onlyby
lovers of the  horse  that this book will be
valued. It contains a store of observation and
suggestion valuable to every man who owns
horses eitherfor trotting or draught.
$
St. Louis D           emocrat.
Everything desirable to be known of the
famous trotters is found in these pages, with
Boston Journal.
A valuable volume for reference.
The Nation.
N. Y. Evening Post. 
A
aluahl  
BY
MISS CATHERINE E. BEECIHIER
AND
MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE,
ENTITLED
THE AMERICAN WOMAN'S HOME;
Vrinripls of Pomtsi  Sritnrt;
BEING A GUIDE TO ECONOMICAL, HEALTHFUL, BEAUTIFUL,
AND CHRISTIAN HOMES
WE book will be replete with the latest and most authentic results of applied
Science in the Construction and Maintenance of desirable Family Abodes
attention being given to Ventilation, Heating, Furnishing, Decoration, and General
Housekeeping, as well as the Original Planning and Arrangement of Houses,
the care of Personal Health, Wholesome Food and Drinks, Clothing, Cleanliness,
Economy of Time and Expenses, Management of Servants and of Children,
Home Amusements and Duties, and, in short, to the entire circle of Domestio
Economy; the whole being freely and judiciously
ILLUSTRATED.
A book that will find its way into every household in the land.
To be sold only through Agents, by Subscription.
Agents desiring territory should apply at once to
J. B. FORD & CO.,
164 NASsAU STREET, PRINTING-HOUSE SQUARE, NEW YORK.
9
OR,
4           0 
LIFE OF JESUS, THE CHRIST.
BY
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
THE Publishers of this forthcoming work find it necessary- on account
of the intense and abiding interest aroused all over the land by their announcement that the greatest living religious teacher was engaged upon so
important a theme - to make some answer to the constant inquiries concerning the book.   Germany, France, England, all have their schools both of
orthodoxy and of scepticism, no two of which occupy the same ground or help
each other in dealing with the popular mind in the different countries; and
none of which is properly adapted to the wants of religious thinkers in
America. This must be the work of an American, - and of a completely
representative American.
It is with full confidence in the attainment of this result that the publishers
of the "Life of Jesus, the Christ," to which great work MR. BEECHER is now
constantly and earnestly devoting his abundant energies, are preparing for its
issuance in a manner worthy the public expectancy, the universal interest in
the subject, and the repute of the author.
The work is to be issued in two styles. It will be first published in a full
octavo volume of about 800 pages.  This, although called the "Plain Edition,"
will be illustrated with several valuable engravings. First, with four superb
Maps, constructed expressly for this work from the very latest data, including
the great English, Dutch, and French governmental surveys of Palestine, the
present explorations of Jerusalem itself by LIEUT. WARREN, Royal Engineers,
and every attainable source of exact geographical and topographical information. These are engraved on copper and on stone (printed in two tints) by
COLTON, the famous map-maker and publisher. The other illustrations are a
10 
2
Frontispiece, "Head of Christ," restored, painted, and engraved on steel by
the renowned American engraver, WM. E.'MARSHALL, from a photograph of
LEONARDO DA VINCI'S rapidly decaying masterpiece in Milan, "The Last
Supper,"- a really grand work of the engraver's art; and a beautiful Steelplate Title-page, containing a Vignette of Bethlehem, engraved by R. HINSRHELWOOD, of the Continental Bank-Note Company.
The other style will be in royal octavo size, richly illustrated. It will contain
the Frontispiece, Title-page, and Maps mentioned above, a series of twenty
large full-page wood-engravings, and from fifty to seventy-five smaller cuts
printed in the text, the entire series being about completed.
These engravings are from new and original drawings never before published,
having been designed expressly for this work after sketches taken directly from
the places represented. They are a new and full illustration of localities,
people, and customs among the scenes of our Lord's earthly labors, and, as
artistic productions, are believed to be superior to anything before published
on that subject. They are engraved by W. J. LINTON, the celebrated woodengraver, now resident in New York, universally acknowledged to be the first
master of his art, and his brother, H. D. LINTON, long well known and highly
esteemed in Paris.
The maps were constructed and the illustrations designed by A. L. RAWSON,
an artist for years resident in the Holy Land, and thoroughly conversant with
its features.  The drawings on wood are from the artistic pencil of HARRY
FENN. The work will be printed at the University Press, Cambridge, Mass.,
by WELCH, BIGELOW, & Co.
Concerning the date of publication, more particular information will be
giveln through the newspaper press in due time. It may be said, however, that
the book will not be ready for canvassing by subscription agents (in which
manner alone it is to be sold) before the month of May next.
J. B. FORD & CO., Publishers,
164 NAssAU STREET, PRINTING-HousE SQUARE, NEW YORK.
l
11 i 
HEN-RY WARD BE13CHER
PREACHING IN EVERY FAMILY.
PLYMOUTH PULPIT.
A LETTER FROM MR. BEECMER.
BROOKLYN January, 1869.
MESSRS. J. B. FORD & CO.:  GENTLEMEN: Mr. J. T. Ellinwood has been the reporter of my sermons for
some ten years; and he is the only authorized reporter of them. The sermons
which you are printing, week by week, from his hand, are published by you alone,
and are the only ones which go before the public with my consent.
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
PLYMOUTH PULPIT is the only regular publication of MR. BEECHER'S current
sermons,- the one indorsed by his approval as correct, and sanctioned by his authority.  Itiswell printed, on good paper, in book form,-beingsuitablefor binding
andpreservation (the advertisements at the back being easily removed), and it is
cheap,lwithin the reach of all. The publishers have responded to the constant
demand for a continued insertion of the Prayers, as one of the most profitable features of MR. BEECHER'S ministrations, and the Scriptural lesson and hymns sung
are also indicated, making a complete record of one service of Plymouth Church
for each Sunday.
Save Money by Subscribing.
The price is eight cents per single copy; $ 3 per year; $1.75 per half-year.
Subscriptions may begin with any number. The American News Company will
supply the trade.
CLERGYMEN, COLLEGE OFFICERS, or OTHERS who will take the trouble to send
us subscriptions for four copies will be regularly served with afifth, free of charge,
except for postage.
POSTAGE OF PLYMOUTH PULPIT to subscribers in the United States is twenty
cents per year, payable quarterly, in advance, at the Post-Office to which the
pamphlet is sent; and on single copies to England it isfour cents.  This is stated
because many underpaid copies, mailed by persons ignorant of the rate, have been
returned to the publishers.
J. B. FORD  & CO.,
164 NASSAU ST., PRINTING-HOUSE SQUARE, NEW YORK.
X x2