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I 
]'10DERN AGITATORS:
OR
(Ai     tor  at 
OF
LIVING AMEIIICAN JREFOIR31EIS.
IBY DAVID W. BARTLETT.
AUTHOR OF "LIFE OF LADY JANE GREY," "JOAN OF AR.O," NTO. E
NEW YORK:
MILLER, O,RTON & MU-LLIGAN,
25 PARK ROW, OPPOSITE ASTOR HOUSE.
AUBURN:
107 GENESEE'STREET.
1855.
"I q C./ 2 - 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred
and fifty-four,
BY MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New York.
AUBURN:
MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN,
6ERTYPEES AND PBRINT
C t 
INTRODUCTION.
TO THOMAS BOX,
OF ENGLAND.
MY DEAR FRIEND:-Though thousands of miles of angry
ocean lie between us, I shall never forget you nor your "Palatine Cottage." Its quiet, unobtrusive beauty, nestled as it is
among trees, and flowers, and singing birds, I have never seen
surpassed. To me it is doubly dear from the fact, that when
I was but a boy, (yet with a heart faill of earnest aspirations
for a reformed world,) it was a second home to me. That sad,
beautiful summer you nor I shall ever forget, nor will the dear
ones of the "cottage"'who watched me so tenderly when my
brow burned with fever. I can see the exquisite sight from
your windows even now, as I saw it then, and the fragrance
of the flowers has crossed the Atlantic with me, and lingers
round my heart still. So do the evenings rise up before me
when you gave me such graphic pictures of the English re.
formers. It was new and intensely interesting to me, especially as I was deeply sympathizing with several important
reforms.
I am in my native land again; months, years have passed
A 
INTRODUCTION.
away since I said farewell to you. While I write, my windows
open out upon a landscape not so beautiful, but more grand than
yours-upon more gorgeous though not sweeter flowers than
those at Palatine! I am in a new world, where we have our own
beauties and defects. Here-God knows how my heart aches
to say it!-here we need reformers as well as you; here the
sorrowful plaint of the bondman, and the wail of the drunkard's wife are heard. And so remembering your word-pictures of English agitators, 1 send you a few plain, honest portraitures of some of our American reformers of the present
time. They do not by any means include all of our distintinguished reformers. I am obliged to select, and have very
likely sketched some persons not so distinguished as others I
have not mentioned. With one exception, the subjects of these
pen-portraits are living men. Rogers was so brilliant a man,
was such an original, and was so intimately connected with our
anti-slavery agitators, that I could not resist the temptation to
speak of him in this volume. I have, in almost every instance,
made extracts from the writings of the persons sketched, knowirig that often wise quotation will give a better clue to character than pages of mere description.
Beg,ging that you will excuse the errors into which I may
have unintentionally fallen in this book, which was prepared for
the people of this country,
I am, always affectionately, yours,
DAVID W. BARTLETT.
iv 
CONTENTS.
N. P. ROGERS,............
THEODORE PARKER,.........                    22
FREDERICK DOUGLASS,................ 88
ICHABOD CODDING,..............56
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE,.............. 78
ELIHU BURRITT,...............,          96
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON,........111
JOHN B. GOUGH,................         128
CHARLES G. FINNEY,................151
JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS,..............    170
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT,..............183
LYMAN BECHER,................192
HENRY WARD BEECHE..............208
F. H. CHAPIN.............    280
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER...........240HORACE BUSHNELL, D. D.,..............266
WILLIAM H. SEWARD,............281
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL,.........    T
HORACE GREELEY,......'. 81
THURLOW WEED BROWN,..........         87
PAGEL 
I 
MODERN AGITATORS.
N. P. ROGERS.
NEw ENGLAnD has given birth to few men, who, in
point of brilliancy, genius, and genuine philanthropy,
are the superiors of XN. P. Rogers.  George Thompson, after a few hours spent in conversation with him,
declared him to be " the most brilliant man in America." There was a fascination about the man, a
charm in his conversation, in his presence, which
was as superior to acquired politeness as nature is toart. Few discovered from his conversation, that he
possessed great powers of sarcasm and indignant eloquence.  For he was one of the gentlest men that
ever drew breath. In many things he was like a
woman. His heart was sensitive, his fancy delicate,
his love without bounds, and when insult was aimed
at him, or when attempts were made to wrong him,
he was silent. But when insult was aimed at the
cause he loved so well, when his brother was wronged,
his spirit rose lion-like, and he could throw his shafts
of sarcasm home to the heart of an adversary, or could 
MODERN AGITATORS.
shower down upon his head the terrors of a denunciatory eloquence. He was a man overflowing with
wit and humor. It showed itself in his conversation,
in his speeches, in his writings. His bitterest enemies could not deny themselves of his brilliant newspaper writings, and many of their names were upon
the subscription book of the newspaper of which he
was the editor.
. Mr. Rogers was born in Plymouth, New Hampshire, June 3d, 1794. His father was a physician of
fine abilities, and his mother was a woman of more
than ordinary intellect and heart. His parentage
was excellent, and as he was a lineal descendant of
John Rogers, the martyr, he had no cause to be
ashamed of the blood which coursed through his
veins. In 1811, he entered Dartmouth College, but
through ill health was obliged to leave, after remaining one year. He returned afterwards, and took his
degree in 1816. Hie shortly afterward engaged in
the study of the law, and practiced it in his native
state.
By nature possessed of extraordinary talents, when
to these was added the discipline of a collegiate
course, he was fitted to adorn any station in the country. He became thoroughly acquainted with law,
and yet its practice was always distasteful to him.
He seldom appeared in the courts to plead, for his
spirit was of too fine material not to shrink from the
8 
N. P. ROGERS.
rough conflicts of such a life. iHe remained in his
office-it was in his native town-and counseled his
clients, or prepared cases for the courts. Hiis keen
intellect won for him a fine reputation, and his advice was sought in intricate cases, far and wide. For
many years, Mr. Rogers continued in the profession
for which he was educated, but was never content
with it. Hiis love of nature was fervent, and the poetic instincts of his nature led him to abhor the dry
technicalities of the statute book. Hie was born and
lived among grand scenery, and his soul seemed to
assimilate itself to the magnificent mountains, among
the shadows of which he so dearly loved to wander.
iHe gave up book-reading and read nature. The awful peaks of the White Mountains were more welcome to him than anything in Shakspeare or Byron,
and the tender song of some early spring-bird more
sweet and beautiful to his ear than the measured cadences of more modern poets. iHe had room in his
heart for everything good and gentle, sublime or
beautiful.
At last the anti-slavery agitation arose, and being
a true man, and in tune with nature, he at once received into his great heart God's truth, and became
an abolitionist. iHe gave up profession, pecuniary
independence, comfort; and heart and soul espoused
the cause of the slave. He removed to Concord, and
became the editor of the far-famed Herald of Free
9
k* 
J[ODERN AGITATOPS.
dom, in which he wrote for many years some of the
most brilliant editorials which have ever emanated
from the newspaper writers of America. HIe adopted
a style well calculated to attract attention; a pointed,
homely, and, if we may use the term, a Yankee style.
iHe eschewed the old rules, and being sure of always
penning great ideas, cared little for the manner in
which they were clothed. As a matter of course, he
had to meet the cry "you are before the age!" and
he answered it as follows:
BEFORE THE AGE
"You are too fast."  Well, friends, you  are too slow.
"You are altogether ahead of the times."  Well, you are altogether in the rear of the times-astern of the times-at the
tail of the times, if I must say it. And which is the most honorable and useful position? It is ahead of the times to denounce
slavery,'and demand its abandonment. But that is no reason
anti-slavery is wrong, or unreasonable, or imprudent, injudicious, or any of the epithets a laggard age casts upon it.  Is
slave-holding right? Are the institutions that support it right?
Are they for the happiness, benefit, improvement, usefulness,
innoceney of the people? These are the questions. "You
are before the age!" Well, if I were not, it's high time I
were.   You ought to be before the age.  The age is wrong.
Whoever improves must go before. He must quit the age,
wherein it is wrong, and the charge that he is before it is anl
admission that he is right. When Robert Fulton told them
steam was better than wind on the water, or than horse-flesh on
10 
N. P. ROGERS.
the land, he was before the age, though not a great ways before.
He was n't many years ahead of it.  The age is up with him
now. They will begin to build him monuments by and by,
because he is dead and it wont do him any good. They trod
him under foot when he was alive, he was so far "before the
age," and called him crazy!  _fonomaniac I suppose they
called him. One poor man got the notion, some ages ago, that
the sun didn't whirl round the earth, but that it was more
likely and reasonable that the appearances that looked as if it
did, were brought about by the earth's turning round on its
own axletree.  They came nigh hanging or burning him for it.
They let him off, I believe, on the ground of insanity. They
made him give it up, though, publicly, to save his life. The
Solernns got hold of him-the reverend divines-God's spe
cially called, ordained and set apart ministers-chosen of God
to guide the people to heaven. They must know all about the
sun and stars, and things up the firmament, for they are guides
to heaven. they said it was contrary to the inspired book to
say the sun stood still and the earth whirled round.  It was
contrary to "Joshua." So they made the man take it back.
They are.a knowing people, these divines. They are specially
gifted of God.  They can't mistake.  They were wvith the age.
This crazy man was "before the age," now it is admitted by the
very Solemns themselves, that the earth whirls over every twenty-four hours, and the sun is as still as a mouse. The Solemrns
always admit things after "the age" has adopted them. They
are as careful about the age as the weather-cock is about the
wind. They never mistake it. You might as well catch an
old, experienced weather-cock on some ancient orthodox steeples
11 
MODERN AGITATORS.
mistaking the way of the wind, standing all day with his tail
east, in a strong west wind, as the divines at odds with "the
age."  They can smell "the ag,e."  They taste it, at any rate.
Some of 3 Mr. Rogers' most popular articles were
written for the New York Tribune, over the signature of "Old Man of the Mfountain," but they did
not, to our thinking, quite equal his contributions to
his Herald of Freedonm. Some of these were written
under circumstances which would have silenced the
tongue or pen of any ordinary man. Hie was poor
in health, poor, God knows, in purse, and an increasing family was upon his hands. And there were
troubles the world knows not of with associates not
so pure, gentle, and truly noble as he. We have
spoken of his indignatory eloquence, and will quote
a few paragraphs from one of his articles upon the
martyr Torrey. It stirs the heart, even at this day,
like the blast of a trumpet:
TORREY.
A  New England citizen has been imprisoned and put to
death without pretense of criminality-for mistaken philanthropy, at worst-for philanthropy, undeniably.  But what
can be done?  Nothing, because of the spell slavery has shed
over the land. Slavery may perpetrate anything, and New
England can't see it.  It can horsewhip the old commonwealth
of Massachusetts, and spit in her governmental face, and she
will not recognize it as an offense. She sent her Hon. Samuel
12 
N. P. ROGERS.
Hoar to Charleston, on a state embassy. Slavery caught him,
and sent him most ignominiously home. The solemn great
man came back in a hurry. He returned on a most undigni.
fled trot.  He ran.  He scampered-the stately official.  The
Old Bay State actually pulled foot-cleared-dug, as they say,
like any scamp, with a hue and cry after him. Her grave old
senator, who no more thought of ever having to break his
stately walk, than he had of being flogged at school for stealing
apples, came back from Carolina upon the full run-out of
breath, as well as out of dignity.  Well, what's the resultS
WVhy, nothing. They no more think of showing any resentment about it, than they would if lightning had struck him.
He was sent back, actually, "by the visitation of God."  And
if they had lynched him to aeath, and stained the streets of
Charleston with his blood, a Boston jury, if they could have
held inquest over him, would have found that he died by the
visitation of God.  And it would have been "Crowner's quest
law."  Slavery's " Crowner's."
They have murdered Torrey. But there can be no inquisi.
tion.  They have brought his body home.  They "gave it to
his friends," as they would the body of a man hung on the gallows. They have brought it to Boston. And they talk of
having a public funeral, and an oration. They thought of having it in Park-street meeting-house. They might as well have
expected it, for celebrating the obsequies of Tirrell, had he been
hanged for murder, as the obsequies of the murdered Tonrrey.
"Park-street" don't open to such obsequies.  And such obsequies ought not to go in there if it did open.  "Park-street"
is at the bottom of the murder. Boston is hand in glove with
13 
MODERN AGITATORS.
it. The Bay State is. The nation is. It is as insensible as a
dead dog to the murder of Torrey, when it ought to stir the
land like the massacre of the 5th of March, 1770, when they
shot down Monk in the streets of Boston; and "Maverick and
Gray, Caldwell, Attocks, and Carr," in the old days of tIancock and Warren.
I will make no ado about it. It would be like clamoring to
a burying yard. Torrey, to be sure, is murdered-but what
of that?  Who cares?  Hie has been killed by slavery.
The love of nature, which was a striking characteristic of Mr. Rogers, exhibited itself constantly in his
writings. WVhat can be more beautiful than the following easy, careless paragraph upon
THE RAIN.
While I am writing, it is raining most magnificently and gloriously, out doors.  It absolutely roars, it comes down in such
multitude and big drops. And how refreshing! It waters
the earth. There has been but little rain, and our sandy region
has got to looking dry and distressed.- Everything looks encouraged now, as the great strainer, overhead, is letting down
the shower bath. The grass darkens, as it drinks it in, with a
kind of delicate satisfaction. And the trees stand and take it,
as a cow does a carding. They hold as still as a mouse, while
they "abide its peltings," not moving a twig or stirring a leaf.
The dust of the wide, naked street is transmuted int6 mud.
And the stages sound over the road, as if they rattled on naked pavement. Puddles stand in all the hollows. You can
hardly see the people for umbrellas-and the clouds look as
14 
N. r. rOGERIS.
though they had not done with us. The prospect for the Can.
terbury meeting looks lowery. Let it rain. All for the best.
It is extraineous, but I could hardly help noticing the great rain
and saying a word about it. I think the more mankind regard
these beautiful doings in nature, the more they will regard each
other, and love each other, and the less inclined to-enslave
each other. The readier abolitionists they will become. And
the better. The rain is a great anti-slavery discourse. And I
like to have it pour. Nor eloquence is richer to my spirit, or
music. That rush from heaven of the big drops-in what mul.
titude and succession, and how  they sound as they strike!
Htow they play on the old home roof, and on the thick tree
tops! What music to go to sleep by, to a tired boy as he lies
under the naked roof!  And the great low bass thunder, as it
rolls off over the hills, and settles down behind them-to the
very center, and you can feel the old earth jar under your feetthat is music, and poetry, and life. And if the lightning strikes
you-what of that! It won't hurt you. "Favored man,"
truly, as Uncle Pope says, " by touch ethereal slain." A light
touch, compared to disease's, the doctor's, or poverty's.
And here is a scene among the White Alountains,
brought vividly to view by a few touches of his
graphic pen:
THE NOTCH.
You roll along a mile or two, the road gently undulating
through the majestic woods, and fringed with bushes of delightful green-when a vast and overwhelming opening breaks upon
you, a boundless room among the mountains, walled on the left
15 
.MODERN AGITATORS.
by the great Elephant mountain, the rock covered by stunted
evergreens p2'ecipicin# up two thousand feet-tlthe blue sky
itself scarcely visible over its eternal ridge. Before you, at the
farther extremity, opens the Notch, curtained by the sky of
Vermont, which there comes down upon it; and on the right,
the wooded steep side of Lafayette, or Great Haystack. Nothing can exceed the awful sublimity of the great wall on the
left. The vast mountain side is clothed with scales of rock, as
with a coat of mail, scarred here and there with the old avalanches-while, opposite, the forest side of Lafayette is striped
down with the deep green of modern woods, which have grown
in the paths of the "slides."  At the northern extremity of the
great room, you come to view "the Old Man of the Mountain."  It is on your left, up, say fifteen hundred feet, a perfect
profile of an aged man, jutting out boldly from the sheer precipice, with a sort of turban on the head and brow; nose, mouth,
lip, chin, and fragment of neck, all perfect and to the life-and
with a lttle fancy, you supply the cheek and ear.  It looks off
south-east. It needs no imagination to complete it. It is pert
feet as if done by art. But it is up where art never climbed.
We have given but meager specimens of the writings of Mr. Rogers. He needs to be read carefully,
article by article, to enable the reader to appreciate
his genius. Hie made the most trite subject rich and
beautiful by the magic of his pen.  He wrote with
strange facility, seemed never at a loss for subject, language, or ideas. He was always fresh, always attractive, and a vein of genial humor ran through al
16 
N. P. ROGERS.
mogt all his articles. If not humor, then certainly
biting sarcasm.  Hle could never tolerate " platitudinous commonplace."  But agitation wore upon him
or perhaps it would be more correct to ascribe his
sorrow to the results of his agitating career.  He was
without a certain and sufficient support, and children
were gathered at his feet.  Never was there a more
loving-hearted father, never a more devoted husband.
-His heart was sorrowful for them. Friends with
whom he was associated in the anti-slavery reform,
treated him, as he thought, with cruelty, and his
heart began to be shattered.
A look of sorrow was always upon his face. IHe
was a man of fine appearance. A large, noble brow,
clear, intelligent, beautiful eyes, a profusion of dark
gray hair, and that sad, ever sad, shadow over all,
were his.characteristics. It was a face which once
seen, lingers forever in the memory.
About this time, he lost nearly all the little property which he could call his own, through the failure
of a friend to whom it was entrusted. An illness
fastened upon him which never deserted him for a
day until he died. For many weeks, however, he
continued to write for his favorite journal, and these
contributions are among the finest he ever wrote.
Hii             s      faith in the ultimate triumph of the right did not
desert him in the darkest hour. It was a time when
church and state seemed to be in league against free                                       2
17 
MODERN AGITATORS.
dom. Mob law stalked unabashed through the land.
The friends of the poor, crushed slave, were few.
There were private griefs, too, in his heart. And at
last, disease laid its disheartening hand upon him.
But he was calm, gentle, and patient through it all.
He declared to the friends who gathered about his
couch that his illness would terminate in death.
Seeing one of his family weep, he said that he was
happy, and wished his friends to be happy also. At
last, his hand, which had been so strong for the right,
grew too feeble to hold the pen, but even after that
he dictated article after article for the press. He
possessed, almost to the day of his death, a strong
desire to hear constantly of the progress of the great
cause to which he had sacrificed his life. He asked
eag,erly for the welfare of his old associates, who
were amost hopelessly opposing themselves to the
war feeling which at that time overspread the country.
His greatest comfort during his illnesss was music,
of which he once said:
"Oh! this music is one of God's dearest gifts.  I do wish men
would make more of it.  How humanizing it isand how
purifying-elevating and ennobling to the spirit! And how it
has been prostituted and perverted! That accursed drum and
fife-how they have maddened mankind! And the deep bass
boom of the cannon, chiming in, in the chorus of the battlethat trumpet, and wild, charging bugle-how they set the mili.
tory devil into a man, and make him into a soldier! Think
is 
N. P. ROGERS.
of the human family, falling upon one another, at the inspira
tion of music!  How must God feel at it!  To see those harp
strings he meant should be wakened to love bordering on divine, strung and swept to mortal hate and butchery."
During the few days which preceded his death, Mr.
Rogers suffered the most excruciating pains. " Oh,
dear," said he, " ths is the closing up of my terrible
labors!"  Terrible, indeed, were they, for his life,
for the past few years, had been one continual conflict with the bigoted, the heartless, and the thoroughly depraved. A friend who leaned over the hot
brow of the dying man,whispered into his ear that it
must be a consoling thought that he had not labored
in vain.  " O yes," he answered, " it sustains me unspeakably-the reflection that I have done right."
Though his agony was great, yet the light of reason
did not flicker until death led him away.
The sixteenth day of October, 1846, was his last.
Hiis family friends were gathered around him, when
he asked one of his daughters to sing to him Lover's
beautiful "An2el's W/hisper."  The sweet tones of the
familiar voice filled the room, and he seemed to be in
a rapture of bliss. When the last notes had died
away, some one approached him, gently, and asked
if Jesse Hutchinson, who was in the next room,
should come in. But no answer came from his dying lips. The little hand knew that the dread hour
19 
MODERN AGITATORS.
had come-no, not dread, but happy, happy hour,
which should conduct his weary heart to rest.
In a few minutes, the look of sorrow, which, for a
long time, had dwelt constantly upon his countenance,
fled away, and a beautiful, seraphic smile rested
calmly in its place. He was dead.
It was Friday when he died, and on the following
Sabbath, a few friends gathered in his dwelling, for ever bereft of his kindly presence, to consign his
mortal remains to the grave. The spot of his burial
was just that which he would have chosen-a quiet
corner of the village grave-yard, beneath the branches
of a cluster of oaks. The snow fell drearily into his
open grave-very drearily to the bereaved ones who
stood sobbing around it. But he was wrapt in the
sunshine of his heavenly Father's love!
Thus lived and died a man whose name will never
be forgotten, at least till American slavery has passed
into oblivion. He was one of the earliest of the antislavery agitators of this country, and one of the purest.
But it may be doubted if he was fitted to be a successful agitator at the time when he lived.  He had
a splendid intellect and a great heart, but the latter
was too delicately made to enable him to walk calmly
on amid the venomous attacks of enemies, and the
not always gentle treatment of professed  friends.
And yet, he agitated right well, and his sayings will
never die.  To-day, they live in the deeds of those
20 
N. P. ROGERS.
who, years ago, were roused from inaction by themand to-day they are read by those who never read
them before, and they will continue to bear fruit
until the freed negro his brethren likewise all free
-shall weep tears of gratitude over his quiet New
Hampshire grave.
21
t 
4
THEODORE PARKER.
A FEW miles out of Boston, just far enough to escape
the dust and confusion of the town, there is a dwelling which would attract the eye of a genuine lover
of nature, and natural beauty. It is not characterized by splendor and ostentation, for no pompous cotton merchant or retired rumseller occupies it. It is
plain and yet beautiful, unpretentious and yet spacious.  It is surrounded by shrubs, and trees, and
flowers of every hue, and the most delightful fragrance in the summer time. Should you chance
some early May morning to wander past this pleasant spot, very likely in the garden you will see a man
in a plain smock frock, hard at work. He is rather
short in stature, rather slender in frame, and if you
catch a glance of his eye, you will at once entertain
a serious doubt if the man be by profession a gardener. Let him lift the wide straw hat from his perspiring brow to catch a cool breeze, and you know
at once that he is no common cultivator of the soil.
Theodore Parker is before you.  The beautiful dwelling is his, and his own hands have contributed to
the loveliness which surrounds it. 
THEODORE PARKER.
Theodore Parker is one of the noblest gnen this age
can boast. No sham ever yet could find a lodgment
in his brain or heart. He. abhors the false, and loves
the true and manly. Not a particle of vulgar gentility, not a grain of aristocratic feeling was ever in him,
or ever can get into him. iHe esteems a man just
according to his moral and intellectual worth, for
what he does, or aims to do. Hie loves men because
they are men; not because they are white, or rich,
or can trace their genealogy back five hundred years.
An outrage upon the rights of a poor negro in the
streets of Boston, stirs the blood as quickly in his
heart, as if it had been committed upon the person
of the governor of the commonwealth. A wrong
perpetrated upon a wretched drunkard's wife or
child, awakes the thunder of his eloquence, when, if
inflicted upon the strong or rich, he would have kept
silent.  It is this gigantic manhood in Theodore Parker which forces us to love and admire him. In
spite of his infidelity, which so often startles and
shocks us, we sit down involuntarily at his feet to
listen to his great words, his courageous utterances
against the most heartless and cruel oppression.
We receive not one word of his infidelity. To us,
Christ is not merely the greatest man that ever lived,
but is vastly more; to us, the bible is not a book
crammed with errors-the miracles exaggerations;
and yet, to many of those who would crucify Mr.
23 
MODERN AGITATORS.
Parker, we indignantly cry:  " It is not for you to
denounce this man; you who in your lives each day
trample Jesus Christ and the bible under your feet;
you who would refuse a cnp of cold water to your
'Lord and Master,' ran there in his veins a drop of
African blood!"
The manliness of Mr. Parker is apparent in his
daily life. A shoemaker upon his bench, if heartnoble, is to him richer than Abbot Lawrence, with
his acres of cotton-mills; a country farmer, in his
fragrant clover fields, though of limited knowledge,
if he be possessed of a generous heart and firm integrity, is in his eyes of greater worth than Daniel
Webster, using his great intellect to perpetuate
oppression.
No man will deny that Mr. Parker is one of the
most remarkable men of our time, and that his influence is exceedingly powerful.
He is now between forty and fifty years old-we
have forgotten his exact age-and is probably enjoying the most vigorous part of his existence. He was
born in Lexington, where the first blood of the revolution was spilt, and it would seem as if the stories
of that heroic time must have made a deep impression upon his mind and heart, for the Lexington
spirit flashes from his eyes, and throbs in every pulse
of his heart.  His father was a farmer, and Theodore
prepared himself for college as best he could. Hie
24 
THEODORE PARK:ER.
worked on the farm, taught school winters, but studied incessantly. One day he swung the scythe from
sunrise to sunset upon his father's meadow, and the
next entered Harvard College. While there, he improved his opportunities, made use of every moment,
and graduated a finished scholar. This was not
enough. He could not content himself with the
knowledge possessed by an ordinary college graduate.    The literature of Europe and the east was
locked away from him, and so he sat down and mastered the French language, till it was as familiar to
his tongue as " household words." He then studied
German, and enjoyed the pleasure of reading the great
German authors and poets in their own language.
The Italian, the Spanish, the Persian, and indeed all
still more difficult languages were made his own, until the civiltzed world, and parts half civilized, were
within his reach.  After due preparation Mr. Parker
entered the ministry, and was settled as pastor over
a Unitarian church in West Roxbury, Massachusetts.
He first excited the suspicions of the religious world
by the delivery of a sermon in South Boston, upon
the occasion of the ordination of the Rev. Mfr. Shackford, in the early part of the year 1841. We will
make a single quotation from this sermon, which will
indicate its character:
"It has been assumed at the onset, it would seem, with no
sufficient reason, without the smallest pretense on its writr's
B
25 
MODERN AGITrrATORS.
part, that all of its authors were infallibly and miraculously
inspired, so that they could commit no error of doctrine or
fact. Men have been bid to close their eyes at the obvious
difference between Luke and John; the serious disagreement
between Paul and Peter, to believe, on the smallest evidence,
accounts which shock the moral sense and revolt the reason,
and tend to place Jesus in the same series with Hercules and
Apollonius of Tyana.
*         *  *  "An idolatrous regard for the imperfect scripture
of God's word is the apple of Atalanta, which defeats theologians
running fir the hand of divine truth.  But the current notions
respecting the infallible inspiration of the bible have no foundation in the bible itself."
This sermon created a good deal of excitement
among the Unitarian body, especially the conservatives. They were not satisfied that a man holding
such views should have the reputation of being a
Unitarian clergyman in good standing. At this time
Mr. Parker left the country for Europe, where he remained for three years, making the acquaintance of
some of its most learned and philanthropic men.
Among others, we may mention the name of Thomas
Carlyle, who is to this day his warm friend and admirer. In the autumn of 1844 he returned, and exchanged pulpits with the Rev. Mr. Sargent, of Boston, a Unitarian clergyman. The conservative Unitarians were exceedingly indignant that Mr. Sargent
should admit such a heretic into his pulpit, and they
26 
TIEODORE PAREER.
commenced a persecution against him, which obliged
him to resign his charge.  The Rev. Mr. Clarke, another Boston clergyman, soon after offered his pulpit
to Mr. Parker, which resulted in great excitement,
and a loss of members to the church. The following
extract from a sermon preached by Mr. Parker, about
this time, will show the nature of his heresy:
"The Jehovah of the Old Testament was awful and sterna man of war, hating the wicked. The sacerdotal conception
of God at Rome and Athens was lower yet. No wonder, then,
that men soon learned to honor Jesus as a god, and then as
God himself. Apostolical and other legends tell of his divine
birth, his wondrous power that healed the sick, palsied, and
crippled, deaf and dumb, and blind; created bread, turned
water into wine, and bid obedient devils come and go-a power
that raised the dead. They tell that nature felt with him, and
at his death the strongly sympathizing sun paused at high noon,
and for three hours withheld the day; that rocks were rent,
and opening graves gave up their sainted dead, who trod once
more the streets of Zion, the first fruits of them that slept;
they tell, too, how disappointed death gave back his prey, and,
spirit-like, Jesus, restored in flesh and shape the same, passed
through the doors shut up, and in a bodily form was taken up to
heaven before the face of men! Believe men of these things
as they will; to me they are not truth and fact, but mythic
symbols and poetry; the psalm of praise with which the world's
rude heart extols and magnifies its King.  It is for his truth
and his life, his wisdom, goodness, piety, that he is honored in
27 
MODERN AGITATORS.
mny heart; yes, in the world's heart. It is for this that in his
name churches are built, and prayers are prayed; for this that
the best things we know we honor."
The result of the utterance of such sentiments was
the excommunication of Mr. Parker from the Unitarian body. He had powerful friends everywhere in
the region of Boston; he had warm sympathizers in
the Unitarian church, but they were not of sufficient
numerical strength to be of service. His church in
West Roxbury was crowded; his Boston admirers
came out every Sunday, in large numbers, to hear
him. At last they were determined that he should
be entirely independent, and therefore invited him
to preach to them in the Melodeon.  He accepted
their invitation, and was settled as their pastor, in
the old Puritan fashion.  There are no rites or ceremonies connected with his society; he does not administer baptism or communion, and there is in fact no
church organization. About a year since his congregation hired the Music Hall, the finest interior in
Boston, and now every Sunday an audience of three
thousand people, comprising many of the most refined, intellectual, and wealthy people in Boston,
convene to hear "the infidel preacher."  His salary,
we believe, is three thousand dollars. He lives a
few miles out of town in the summer, or has a residence there, as well as in the city of Boston.
28 
THEODORE PARKER.
The personal appearance of Theodore Parker is
not remarkable, and yet the observing man will dis cover indications of his wonderful genius in his face.
He is slightly under the average height of men,
rather spare in flesh, has a partially bald head, a fine,
compact brow, and a flashing eye. lHis features are
rather small, and his organization is of the finest
mould. There is a delicacy in his nervous system,
which is indicated by the fineness of his hair; just
that amount of delicacy which is necessary to make
a nervous and intense writer and speaker. A man
with the nervous system of a Tom Hyer cannot become a great orator. He cannot himself feel intensely, cannot understand the subtler methods of
reaching the souls of men.
People who have read the sermons of Mr. Parker
are usually disappointed in hearing him preach or
lecture. He is not an accomplished orator; in an
ordinary discourse he is altogether too lifeless, too
devoid of gesture.  But he has a voice of exceeding
beauty, and he can, when he chooses, charm an audience by his striking and fascinating gestures and
manner.' Occasionally in his sermons, from the bold
and magnificent, from the intensely passionate, he
suddenly glides into the calmly beautiful. The contrast at such times is almost overpowering, and the
heart of the listener is touched, as by the voice of an
angel. The pictures of strange and quiet loveliness,
919 
MODERN AGITATORS.
which nestled among the grand mountains of his discourses, are not surpassed in poetic beauty in the
writings of any living clergyman. The fact is, Theodore Parker is a poet. He has the intense and consuming fire; he has also the gentleness and the love
of the true poet. He is no rhymer, for the reformer
of these times has not time for measured sentences,
when the land is in danger of ruin.
A majority of the sermons of Mr. Parker contain
nothing offensive to the most devout christian. Hiis
reputation is founded not so much upon his heresies,
as upon his genius and philanthropy. It is the fact
that he is a fearless and powerful defender of the
wronged, which gives him a place in the hearts of
millions who have no sympathy with his religious
views.
In classic eloquence, in burning invective, in astonishing power, we know of few men of this or any
other age, who equal Mr. Parker. What can surpass in eloquence the following passage, which we
extract from a sermon preached by him, just after
the passage of the fugitive slave law:
"Come with me, my friends, a moment more, pass over this
Golgotha of human history, treading reverent as you go, for
our feet are on our mothers' graves, and our shoes defile our
fathers' hallowed bones. Let us not talk of them; go farther
on, look and pass by. Come with me into the Inferno of the
30 
THEODORE PARKER.
nations, with such poor guidance as my lamp can lend. Let
us disquiet and bring up the awful shadows of empires buried
long ago, and learn a lesson from the tomb.
"Come, old Assyria, with the Ninevitish dove upon thy emerald crown! what laid thee low?' I fell by my own injustice. Thereby Nineveh and Babylon came with me also to the
ground.'
"Oh, queenly Persia, flame of the nations, wherefore art
thou so fallen, who troddest the people under thee, bridgedst
the Hellespont with ships, and pouredst thy temple-wasting
millions on the western world?'Because I trod the people
under me, and bridged the HIellespont with ships, and poured
my temple-wasting millions on the western world, I fell by my
own misdeeds!'
"Thou muselike Grecian queen, fairest of all thy classic sisterhood of states, enchanting yet the world with thy sweet
witchery, speaking in art and most seductive song, why liest
thou there, with beauteous yet dishonored brow, reposing on
thy broken harp?' I scorned the law of God; banished and
poisoned wisest, justest men; I loved the loveliness of flesh,
embalmed it in the Parian stone; I loved the loveliness of
thought, and treasured that in more than Parian speech. But
the beauty of justice, the loveliness of love, I trod them down
to earth! Lo, therefore have I become as those barbarian
states-as one of them!'
"Oh, manly and majestic Rome, thy seven-fold mural crown
all broken at thy feet, why art thou here'? It was not injustice brought thee low; for thy great book of law is prefaced
with these wordsjustice is the unchanged, everlasting will to
31 
MODERN AGITATORS.
give each man his right!' It was not the saint's ideal; it was
the hypocrite's pretense! I made iniquity my law. I trod
the nations under me. Their wealth gilded my palaces-where
thou mayst see the fox and hear the owl-it fed my courtiers
and my courtesans. Wicked men were my cabinet counselors,
the flatterer breathed his poison in my ear. Millions of bondmen wet the soil with tears and blood. Do you not hear it
crying yet to God?  Lo, here have I my recompense, tormented with such downfall as you see! Go back and tell
the new-born child who sitteth on the Alleghanies, laying his
either hand upon a tributary sea, a crown of thirty stars about
his youthful brow-tell him that there are rights which states
must keep, or they shall suffer wrongs! Tell him there is a
God who keeps the black man and the white, and hurls to earth
the loftiest realm that breaks his just, eternal law! Warn the
young empire, that he come not down dim and dishonored to
my shameful tomb!  Tell him that justice is the unchanging,
everlasting will to give each man his right. I knew it, broke
it, and am lost.  Bid him know it, keep it, and be safe!' "
The reader well remembers the case of the fugitive Simms, who was dragged back from the streets
of Boston, past old Faneuil Hall, to hopeless slavery.
The court house itself was in chains, and the spirit of
Liberty afraid to draw its breath. Theodore Parker,
the infidel, dared, from his pulpit, to rebuke the city
for its acquiescence in such a deed, and it is a rebuke
which will live as long as Boston does. The passage
32 
THEODORE PARKER.
below, which we quote from it, is one of the most
intensely powerful in the English language:
"Where shall I find a parallel with men who will do such a
deed-do it in Boston?  I will open the tombs and bring up
most hideous tyrants from the dead. Come, brood of mon sters, let me bring you up fi-om the deep damnation of the
graves wherein your hated memories continue for all time their
never-ending rot.  Come, birds of evil omen! come, ravens,
vultures, carrion crows, and see the spectacle! come, see the
meeting of congenial souls! I will disturb, disquiet, and bring
up the greatest monsters of the human race!  Tremble not,
women; tremble not, children; tremble not, men!  They are
all dead! They cannot harm you now! Fear the living, not
the dead!"
"Come hither, Herod, the wicked.  Thou that didst seek
after that young child's life, and destroyedst the innocents!
Let me look on thy face!  No, go!  Thou wert a heathen!
Go, lie with the innocents thou hast massacred. Thou art too
good for this company!
"Come, Nero! thou awful Roman emperor, come up! No,
thou wast drunk with power! schooled in Roman depravity.
Thou hadst, besides, the example of thy fancied gods. Go,
wait another day. I will seek a worser man.
"Come hither, St. Dominic! come, Torquemada!-fathers
of the Inquisition! merciless monsters, seek your equal here.
No; pass by. You are no companions for such men as these.
You were the servants of atheistic popes, of cruel kings. Go
to, and get you gone. Another time I may have work for you,
~Be *~~3
33 
MODES AGlTATOrE.
-now, lie there, and persevere to rot.  You are not yet quite
wicked and corrupt enough for this comparison. Go, get you
gone, lest the sun turn back at sight of ye!
"Come up, thou heap of wickedness, George Jeffries! thy
hands deep purple with the blood of thy murdered fellow-men.
Ah! I know thee, awful and accursed shade!  Two hundred
years after thy death, men hate thee still, not without cause.
Look me upon thee! I know thy history. Pause and be still
while I tell it to these men.... Come, shade of a judicial butcher. Two hundred years, thy name has been pilloried in face of the world, and thy memory gibbeted before
mankind. Let us see how thou wilt compare with those who
kidnap men in Boston. Go, seek companionship with them.
Go, claim thy kindred, if such they be. Go, tell them that
the memory of the wicked shall rot; that there is a God; an
eternity; ay, and a judgment, too, where the slave may appeal
against him that made him a slave, to HIim that made him a
man.
"What!   Dost thou shudder?  Thou turn back!  These
not thy kindred! Why dost thou turn pale, as when the crowd
clutched at thy life in London street? It is true, George Jeffries and these are not thy kin.  Forgive me that I should send
thee, on such an errand, or bid thee seek companionship with
such-with Boston hunters of the slave! Thou wert not base
enough!  It was a great bribe that tempted thee!  Again, I
say, pardon me for sending thee to keep company with such
men!  Thou only struckest at men accused of crime; not at
men accused only of their birth!  Thou wouldst not send a
man into bondage for two pounds! I will not rank thee with
-34 
THEODORE PARKER.
men, who, in Boston, for tell dollars, would enslave a negro
now!  Rest still, Herod!  Be  quiet, Nero!  Sleep, St. Dominic, and sleep, O Torquemada, in your fiery jail! Sleep,
Jeffries, underneath' the altar of the church' which seeks, with
christian charity, to hide your hated bones!"
In one of Mr. Parker's sermons on "Immortal
Life," occurs the following beautiful passage:
"I would not slight this wondrous world.  I love its day and
night. Its flowers and its fruits are dear to me. I would not
willfully lose sight of a departing cloud. Every year opens new
beauty in a star; or in a purple curtain fringed with loveliness.
The laws, too, of matter seem more wonderful the more I study
them, in the whirling eddies of the dust, in the curious shells
of former life, buried by thousands in a grain of chalk, or in
the shining diagrams of light above my head. Even the ugly
becomes beautiful, when truly seen. I see the jewel in the
bunchy toad. The more I live, the more I love this lovely
world; feel more its Author in each little thing; in all that is
great. But yet, I feel my immortality the more. In childhood, the consciousness of immortal life buds forth feeble,
though fuill of promise. In the man, it unfolds its fragrant
petals, his most celestial flower, to mature its seed throughout
eternity.  The prospect of that everlasting life, the perfect justice yet to come, the infinite progress before us, cheer and comfort the heart.  Sad and disappointed, full of self-reproach, we
shall not be so forever. The light of heaven breaks upon
the night of trial, sorrow, sin; the sombre clouds which over.
35 
MODERN AGITATORS.
hung the east, grown purple now, tell us the dawn of heaven
is coming in."
The last quotation which we will make, is full of a
sad eloquence. The preacher is speaking of the heroes of the present day, those men who have the
courage and the principle to advocate unpopular reforms:
"I know their trials, I see their dangers, I appreciate their
sufferings, and since the day when the Man on Calvary bowed
his head, bidding persecution farewell with his'Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do,' I find no such saints
and heroes as live now! They win hard fare, and hard toil.
They lay up shame and obloquy. Theirs is the most painful
of martyrdoms. Racks and fagots soon waft the soul to God,
stem messengers but swift.  A  boy could bear that passage,
the martyrdom of death. But the temptation of a long life
of neglect, and scorn, and obloquy, and shame, and want, and
desertion by.false friends; to live blameless, though blamed,
cut off from human sympathy, that is the martyrdom of to-day.
I shed no tears for such martyrs. I shout when I see one; I
take courage, and thank God for the real saints, prophets and
heroes of to-day. In another age, men shall be proud of these
puritans and pilgrims of this day.  Churches shall glory in
their names, and celebrate their praise in sermon and in song."
One of the greatest sermons preached by Mr. Parker-that upon the death of Daniel Webster-is so
widely known that we will but mention it here as one
36 
TREODORE PARKER.
of the most brilliant sermnions ever delivered from the
American pulpit. The land was full of adoration of
the dead statesman, and it required a profound courage to face it with the truth. The sermon met with
opposition, in some places bitter opposition, but the
country at large hailed it as a great, searching, and
profound review of the character of one of the idols
of the American people.
Whatever charges may be sustained against Tlheodore Parker, as a theologian, no man will accuse him
of ever fawning before the powerful and the despotic
no man will accuse him of deserting the weak and
oppressed. IHe is faithful to his brother-men-let him
at least have all honor for this.
37 
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
THE remarkable man who is the subject of this
sketch, was born a slave in Maryland. His exact
age is not known, though it is supposed that he is between thirty and forty years old. His mother died
when he was quite young. His father was a white
man, according to rumor, his own master. He was
early compelled to witness and experience the bitter
ness of a life of bondage. Speaking of a time when
he was quite young, he says:
"I have often been awakened at the dawn of day by the
most heart-rending shrieks of an own aunt of mine, whom her
master used to tie up to a joist, and whip upon her naked back
till she was literally covered with blood. No words, no tears,
no prayers, from his gory victim, seemed to move his iron
heart from its bloody purpose. The louder she screamed the
harder he whipped; and where the blood ran fastest there he
whipped longest. He would whip her to make her scream,
and whip her to make her hush; and not until overcome by
fatigue, would he cease to swing the blood-clotted cowskin. I
remember the first time I ever witnessed this horrible exhibition. I was quite a child, but I well remember it. I ncver
shall forget it whilst I remember anything. It was the first of 
FRERICK DOUTGLASS.
a long series of such outrages, of which I was doomed to be a
witness and a participant. It struck me with awful force. It
was the blood-stained gate, the entrance to the hell of slavery,
through which I was about to pass. It was a most terrible
spectacle. I wish I could commit to paper the feelings with
which I beheld it."
For years the poor slave, as a field hand, served a
sad apprenticeship to slavery.  He  was sold from
master to master, and transferred from the whip of
one overseer to that of another. But it was impossible by experience to reconcile him to his condition.
Naturally possessed of brilliant powers of mind, with
a fiery yet noble nature, he could not remain contentedly a miserable chattel on a Maryland plantation.
As yet, he had thought-little of liberty, for the love of
it which is -in'every human creature's heart, had not
kindled in his. Still there were strange, murmuring
thoughts:,constantly haunting his brain.  A  melancholy was in his heart. He says, very strikingly as
well as beautifully, of the songs which the slaves are
so noted for singing:
"I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meaning of
those rude and apparently incoherent songs. I was myself
within the circle; so that I neither saw nor heard as those without might see and hear. They told a tale of woe which was
then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension; they were
tones loud, long, and deep; they breathed the prayer and conm
89 
MODERN AGITATORS.
plaint of souls boiling over with the bitterest anguish. Every
tone was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for
deliverance from chains. The hearing of those wild notes always depressed my spirit, and filled me with ineffable sadness.
I have frequently found myself in tears while hearing them.
The mere recurrence to those songs, even now, afflicts mne; and
while I am writing these lines, an expression of feeling has already found its way down my cheek. To those songs I trace
my first glimmering conception of the dehumanizing character
of slavery. I can never get rid of that conception. Those
songs still follow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery, and
quicken my sympathies for my brethren in bonds. If any one
wishes to be impressed with the soul-killing effects of slavery,
let him go to Colonel Lloyd's plantation, and, on allowanceday, place himself in the deep pine woods, and there let him
in silence analyze the sounds that shall pass through the chambers of his soul, and if he is not thus impressed, it will only be
because there is no flesh in his obdurate heart."
From the field Douglass was transferred to the
town. His joy was great at being permitted to live
in Baltimore. He was allowed clean and decent
clothing, for he was going to live with city people.
His city mistress was a mild, pleasant woman, and
he says that his soul was filled with rapture when he
first saw her kind face, and experienced her gentle
treatment. She taught him how to read, or rather,
taught him his letters, and he, without further aid,
completed his education. By persevering and secret
40 
-FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
toil, he managed to acquire the art of reading. One
of the first books he met with was Sheridan's Speeches,
and they served well to stir his heart, to awaken and
intensify his longing for liberty. Months and years
flew on, and in the meantime he changed masters.
The desire for freedom grew strong in his heart, but
it was not till after he had felt in his own person one
of the bitterest portions of the slave's experience, that
the desire attained its full intensity.  We will quote
his own account of this passage in his life:
" On one of the hottest days of the month of August, 1833,
Bill Smith, William Hughes, a slave named Eli, and myself, were engaged in fanning wheat. Hughes was clearing the
fanned wheat from before the fan, Eli was turning, Smith was
feeding, and I was carrying wheat to the fan. The work was
simple, requiring strength rather than intellect; yet, to one entirely unused to such work, it came very hard. About three
o'clock of that day I broke down; my strength failed me; I
was seized with a violent aching Qf the head, attended with extreme dizziness; I trembled in every limb. Finding what was
coming, I nerved myself up, feeling it would never do to stop
work. I stood as long as I could stagger to the hopper with
grain. When I could stand no longer I fell, and felt as if held
down by an immense weight. The fan of course stopped;
everv one had his own work to do; and no one could do the
work of the other and have his own go on the same time.
Mr. Covey was at the house, about one hundred yards from
the treading-yard where we were fanning. On hearing the fin
41 
MODERN AGITATORS.
stop, he left immediately, and came to the spot where we were.
He hastily inquired what the matter was. Bill answered that
I was sick, and there was no one to bring wheat to the fan. I
had by this time crawled away under the side of the post and
rail fence, by which the yard was enclosed, hoping to find relief by getting out of the sun. He then asked where I was.
He was told by one of the hands. He came to the spot, and,
after looking at me awhile, asked me what was the matter. I
told him as well as I could, for I scarce had strength to speak.
He then gave me a savage kick in the side, and told me to get
up. I tried to do so, but fell back in the attempt. He gave
me another kick, and again told me to rise. I again tried, and
succeeded in gaining my feet; but stooping to get the tub with
which I was feeding the fan, I again staggered and fell. While
down in this situation, Mr. Covey took up the hickory slat with
which Hughes had been striking off the half-bushel measure,
and with it gave me a heavy blow upon the head, making a
large wound, and the blood ran freely; and with this again
told me to get up. I made no effort to comply, having now
made up my mind to let him do his worst. In a short time
after receiving this blow my head grew better. Mr. Covey
had now left me to my fate."
After this, Douglas had the courage to resist another brutal attack from Covey, and triumphed. lie
began now to seriously contemplate running away
from the bondage so hateful to him. His soul, animated by the same spirit which once dwelt in the
bosom of Patrick Henry, could not brook chains,
4;2 
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
could not still its own pulses at the bidding of a white
master. He has given in graphic language the conflict of hopes and fears in his heart, when contemplating escape by flight from the evils which surrounded
him:
"At every gate through which we were to pass we saw a
watchman-at every ferry a guard-on every bridge a sentinel, and in every wood a patrol. We were hemmed in upon
every side. Here were the difficulties, real or imagined-the
good to be sought, and the evil to be shunned. On the one
hand, there stood slavery, a stern reality, glaring frightfully
upon us, its robes already crimsoned with the blood of millions,
and even now feasting greedily upon our own flesh. On the
other hand, away back in the dim distance, under the flickering
light of the north star, behind some craggy hill or snow-covered mountain, stood a doubtful freedom-half frozen-beckoning us to wme and share its hospitality. This in itself was
sometimes enough to stagger us; but when we permitted ourselves to survey the road, we were frequently appalled. Upon
either side we saw grim death, assuming the most horrid
shapes. Now it was starvation, causing us to eat our own
flesh; now we were contending with the waves, and were
drowned; now we were overtaken, and torn to pieces by the
fangs of the terrible bloodhound. We were stung by scorpions, chased by wild beasts,' bitten by snakes, and finally, after
having nearly reached the desired spot-after swimming rivers, encountering wild beasts, sleeping in the woods, suffering
hunger and nakedness-we were overtaken by our pursuers.
43 
MODERN AGITATORS.
and, in our resistance, we were shot dead upon the spot! I
say, this picture sometimes appalled us, and made us
' Rather bear those ills we had,
Than fly to others that we knew not of."'
But, thanks to a kind Providence, he attempted,
and successfully, to fly from his oppressors. The
mode of his flight he prudently says little about, for
fear of injuring the chances for escape of thousands
still in bondage.  Hie settled down in New Bedford,
got married, and went quietly at work. As yet no
one had discovered the wonderful genius which dwelt
beneath his dark skin. He had enjoyed wretched
opportunities for information; hi's education was necessarily exceedingly limited, and after he came to
reside in New Bedford, he was obliged to support
himself and wife by manual labor, and of course had
little time to devote to mental toil.
In the month of August, 1841, an anti-slavery
meeting was held in Xantucket. Some of the most
eloquent anti-slavery orators were present, and in an
humble place sat Frederick Douglas, beside a dear
friend. He was known to but few, and they knew
him simply as a poor fugitive. Not one man of all
those present had the remotest idea that in the person of the poor negro they beheld an orator.  At
length a friend urged him to get up and tell his story.
It was common in antislavery meetings for fugitives,
44 
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
in their broken, illiterate way, to tell of their sufferings, that northern men and women might know the
character of negro slavery.   Urged vehemently,
Douglass ascended the platform, and with a trembling voice commenced. But in a few moments fear
of his audience vanished, and he poured forth a torrent of burning eloquence, such as the majority present never before had heard.  His voice and action
were natural, his language was intensely eloquent,
and his whole bearing that of a great orator. Tke
audience was astounded; it seemed almost miraculous, that an ignorant slave should possess such
powers.
Few living orators surpass Frederick Douglass in
declamatory eloquence. He is not so argumentative,
so logical, as many of his cotemporaries, but few living men can produce a more powerful impression
upon an audience than he. His manner is wonderfully eloquent, and his language is copious and impressive.  He stands before an audience a natural
orator, like the African Cinque, who, without the aid
of the schools, pours forth with burning zeal the
thoughts which crowd his brain. His voice is good,
his form is manly and graceful, and his hot words
leap forth clothed with beauty and power. He is
bold in his imagery; his pictures are at times gorgeously beautiful, but are always full of a tropical
45 
MODERN AGITATORS.
heat. It is perhaps his principal fault-his tendency
to paint too deeply, sometimes to exaggeration.
Mr. Douglass is a powerful writer, but we confess
that we think he erred in attempting to maintain a
weekly journal. We do not mean that his paper is
not an excellent, and often an eloquent one, but nature intended Douglass for an orator-not to be an
editor. As an orator, he has few superiors in this or
any other country, and it seems to us that he cannot
do full justice to himself as an orator while attempting to edit a newspaper.
It is impossible for us to give the reader any true
idea of the eloquence of Mr. Douglass by quoting
from his reported speeches. His best ones never
were reported, and even if they were, without his
presence, his impassioned manner, they would convey en inadequate idea of his oratorical powers.
Nevertheless, we will give a few brief extracts from
his speeches. The first is upon
THE SLAVE.
The slave is a man, "the image of God," but "a little lower
than the angels;" possessing a soul eternal and indestructible;
capable of endless happiness or immeasurable woe; a creature
of hopes and fears, of affections and passions, of joys and sorrows; and he is endowed with those mysterious powers by
which man soars above the things of time and sense, and grasps
with undying tenacity the elevating and sublimely glorious idea
46 
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
If a God. It is such a being that is smitten and blasted. The
first work of slavery is to mar and deface those characteristics
of its victims which distinguish men from things, and persons
from property. Its first aim is to destroy all sense of high
moral and religious responsibility. It reduces man to a mere
machine. It cuts him off from his Maker, it hides from him
the laws of God, and leaves him to grope his way from time
to eternity in the dark, under the arbitrary and despotic con.
trol of a frail, depraved, and sinful fellow-man.
As the serpentcharmer of India is compelled to extract the
deadly teeth of his venomous prey before he is able to handle
him with impunity, so the slave-holder must strike down the
conscience of the slave, before he can obtain the entire mastery
over his victim.
It is, then, the first business of the enslaver of men to blunt,
deaden, and destroy the central principle of human responsibility. Conscience is to the individual soul and society what the
law of gravitation is to the universe. It holds society together;
it is the basis of all trust and confidence; it is the pillar of all
moral rectitude. Without it suspicion would take the place
of trust; vice would be more than a match for virtue; men
would prey upon each other like the wild beasts; earth would
become a hell.
Nor is slavery more adverse to the conscience than it is to
the mind.
This is shown by the fact that in every state of the Americanl Union, where slavery exists, except the state of Kentucky,
there are laws absolutely prohibitory of education among the
slaves. The crime of teaching a slave to read is punishable
47 
MODERN AGITATORS.
with severe fines and imprisonment, and in some instances with
death itself!
Nor are the laws respecting this matter a dead letter. Ca.
ses may occur in which they are disregarded, and a few in.
stances may be found where slaves may have learned to read;
but such are isolated cases, and only prove the rule. The great
mass of slaveholders look upon education among the slaves as
utterly subversive of the slave system. I well remember when
my mistress first announced to mymaster that she had discovered
that I could read. His face colored at once, with surprise and chagrin.  He said that "I was ruined, and my value as a slave destroyed; that a slave should know nothing but to obey his master; that to give a negro an inch would lead him to take an ell;
that having learned how to read I would soon want to know how
to write; and that, by and by, I would be running away." I
think my audience will bear witness to the correctness of this
philosophy, and to the literal fulfillment of this prophecy.
Hiere is an eloquent extract upon
MAN'S RIGHT TO LIBERTY.
Indeed, I ought to state, what must be obvious to all, properly speaking, there is no such thing as new truth; for truth,
like the God whose attribute it is, is eternal. In this sense,
there is, indeed, nothing new under the sun. Error may be
properly designated as old or new, since it is but a misconception, or an incorrect view of the truth.  Misapprehensions.of
what truth is have their beginnings and their endings. They
pass away as the race move onward.  But truth is "from everlasting to everlasting," and can never pass away.
48 
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
Such is the truth of man's right to liberty. It existed in the
very idea of man's creation.  It was his even before he comprehended it. He was created in it, endowed with it, and it
can never be taken from him. No laws, no statutes, no compacts, no covenants, no compromises, no constitutions, can abrogate or destroy it. It is beyond the reach of the strongest
earthly arm, and smiles at the ravings of tyrants from its hiding-place in the bosom of God. Men may hinder its exercise
-they may act in disregard of it-they are even permitted to
war against it; but they fight against heaven, and their career
must be short, for Eternal Providence will speedily vindicate
the right.
The existence of this right is self-evident. It is written upon
all the powers and faculties of man. The desire for it is the
deepest and strongest of all the powers of the human soul.
Earth, sea, and air-great nature, with her thousand voices,
proclaims it.
In the language of Addison we may apostrophize it:
"Oh Liberty I thou goddess, heavenly bright,
Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight!
Thou mak'st the glowing face of nature gay,
Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day."
I have said that the right to liberty is self-evident. No ar.
gument, no researches into mouldy records, no learned disqui.
sitions, are necessary to establish it. To assert it, is to call
forth a sympathetic response from every human heart, and to
3end a thrill of joy and gladness round the world. Tyrants,
oppressors, and slaveholders are stunned by its utterance;
while the oppressed and enslaved of all lands hail it as an an              C                              4
49 
MODERN AGITATORS.
gel of deliverance. Its assertion in Russia, in Austria, in Egypt,
in fifteen states of the American Union, is a crime. In the harems of Turkey, and on the southern plantations of Carolina,
it is alike prohibited; for the guilty oppressors of every clime
understand its truth, and appreciate its electric power.
A portion of the citizens of Rochester invited Mr.
Douglass, in 1852, to deliver a Fourth of July oration. Hie complied with the request, and gave a
speech full of passionate, indignatory eloquence. We
make two or three extracts fiom it:
THE WHITE MAN'S FOURTH OF JULY.
Fellow-citizens, pardon me; allow me to ask, why am I
called upon to speak here to-day? What have I, or those I
represent, to do with your national independence?  Are the
great principles of political freedom and of natural justice, embodied.in that declaration of independence, extended to us?
and am I, therefore, called upon to bring our humble offering
to the national altar, and to confess the benefits, and express
devoutgratitude for the blessings resulting from your independence to us?
Would to God, both for your sakes and ours, that an affirmative answer could be truthfully returned to these questions.
Then would my task be light, and my burden easy and delightful.  For who is there so cold that a nation's sympathy could
not warm him?   Who so obdurate and dead to the claims of
gratitude, that would not thankfully acknowledge such price
less benefits?  Who so stolid and selfish, that would not give
his voice to swell the hallelujahs of a nations's jubilee, wlihen
50 
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
the chains of servitude had been tom fronm his limbs?  I am
not that man. In a case like that, the dumb might eloquently
speak, and the " lame man leap as an hart."
But such is not the state of the case.  I say it with a sad
sense of the disparity between us. I am not included within
the pale of this glorious anniversary!  Your high independence
only reveals the immeasurable distance between us.   The
blessings in which you this day rejoice, are not enjoyed in
common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, prosperity,
and independence, bequeathed by your fathers, is shared by
you, not by me. The sunlight that brought life and healing
to you, has brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth of
July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice; Imust mourn. To
drag a man in fetters into the grand, illuminated temple of
liberty, and call upon him to join you in joyous anthems, were
inhuman mockery and sacrilegious irony. Do you mean, citizens, to mock me, by asking me to speak to-day? If so, there
is a parallel to your conduct. And let me warn you that it is
dangerous to copy the example of a nation whose crimes, towerin- up to heaven, were thrown down by the breath of the
Almighty, burying that nation in irrecoverable ruin!  I can today take up the plaintive lament of a peeled and woe-smitten
people!
"By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down.   Yea, we
wept when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon
the willows in the midst thereof For there they that carried
us away captive required of us a song; and they who wasted
us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of
Zion.  How  can we sing the Lord's song in a strange land I
51 
MODERN AGITATORS.
If I forget thee, 0 Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her
cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to
the roof of my mouth."      *      *     *      *     *      *
To me the American slave-trade is a terrible reality.
When a child, my soul was often pierced with a sense of its
horrors. I lived on Philpot-street, Fell's Point, Baltimore, and
have watched from the wharves the slave-ships in the basin,
anchored from the shore, with their cargoes of human flesh,
waiting for favorable winds to waft them down the Chesapeake.
There was at that time a grand slave-mart kept at the head of
Pratt-street, by Austin Woldfolle. His agents were sent into
every town and county in Maryland, announcing their arrival
through the papers, and on flaming "handbills" headed CASHE
FOR NEGROES. These men were generally well dressed, and
very captivating in their manners. Ever ready to drink, to
treat, and to gamble. The fate of many a slave has depended
upon the turn of a single card;  and many a child has been
snatched from the arms of its mother, by bargains arranged in
a state of brutal drunkenness.
The flesh-mongers gather up their victims by dozens, and drive
them, chained, to the general depot at Baltimore. When a
sufficient number have been collected here, a ship is chartered
for the purpose of conveying the forlorn crew to Mobile, or to
New Orleans. From the slave-prison to the ship, they are usu ally driven in the darkness of night; for, since the anti-slavery
agitation, a certain caution is observed.
In the deep, still darkness of midnight, I have been often
aroused by the dead, heavy footsteps, and the piteous cries of
the chained gangs that passed our door. The anguish of my
52 
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
boyish heart was intense, and I was often consoled, when speaking to my mistress in the morning, to hear her say that the
custom was very wicked; that she hated to hear the rattle
of the chains, and the heartrending cries. I was glad to find
one who sympathized with me in my horror.
Fellow-citizens, this murderous traffic is, to-day, in active
operation in this boasted republic. In the solitude of my spirit,
I see clouds of dust raised on the highways of the south; I see
the bleeding footsteps; I hear the doleful wail of fettered humanity, on the way to the slave-markets, where the victims are
to be sold like horses, sheep and swine, knocked off to the highest bidder. There I see the tenderest ties ruthlessly broken to
gratify the lust, caprice and rapacity of the buyers and sellers
of men. My soul sickens at the sight.
*       *       *       *       *       *       *
What, to the American slave, is your Fourth of July? I
answer: a day that reveals to him, more than all other days
in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the
constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your
boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness,
swelling vanity; your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your denunciations of tyrants, brass-fronted impudence;
your shouts of liberty and equality, hollow mockery; your
prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all
your religious parade and solemnity, are, to him, mere bombast,
fraud, deception, impiety and hypocrisy-a thin vail to cover
up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages. There is
not a nation on the earth guilty of practices more shocking and
53 
MODERN AGITATORS.
bloody, than are the people of these IUnited States at this very
hour."
Several years since,afew transatlantic friends of Girl.
Douglass raised the necessary funds to purchase his
freedom from his master, for, according to the laws
of the United States, the brilliant orator was the
property of a Maryland trafficker in human  flesh!
But for this, Mr. Douglass, to-day, would be in imminent danger of seizure and reenslavement. IIis genius would avail him nothing-were he a Cicero or
Demosthenes, a human brute would have the legal
right to horsewhip him into subjection.
To those foolish people who contend that the African race is essentially a brute race, and far inferior
to any other existing, we commend Frederick Douglass. He is perfectly competent to defend his race,
and is imsnelf an argument that cannot be refuted,
in favor of the capability of the negro race for the
highest degree of refinement and intellectuality. The
more such men his race can produce, the sooner the
day of its freedom will come. The sooner will the
free blacks of the north rise to an equality with the
whites. That singularand horrible prejudice against
color, which pervades all classes, and which not even
the religion of the day has affected, will vanish, when,
as a class, the negroes are not only industrious and
virtuous, but distinguish themselves for their love of
54 
FREDERICK DOUGLASS.
learning and the fine arts. We mean no excuse for
the negro-hating population of this country, but simply state a fact which  black men  should ponder.
Every negro who acts well his part, is assisting his
race to rise from its degrading enthrallment.
55 
ICHABOD CODDING.
ICHABOD CODDING is well known in the free states
as one of the earliest, most faithful and eloquent advocates of anti-slavery reform in America, and he
deserves a place in this series of sketches of distinguished agitators. He gave himself up to the cause
of freedom when he was in his youth, and when, to
be known as an anti-slavery advocate, was to endure
obloquy and scorn-to risk not only reputation, but
life. He is, according to our thinking, one of the
most powerful advocates of reform in the country.
His talents are varied; he is persuasively eloquent,
as an orator, but is socially still more eloquent.  We
never met a more talented conversationist, and his
power in social circles is exceedingly great. His
manners are bland and winning, and yet he is strong
and rigid in his positions. The reformer who is endeavoring to impress society with certain great truths,
is often, too often, harsh and repulsive in his manners
and conversation.  He is like a rock against which
the billows may dash forever without making an impression-but he is cold and bleak. Mr. Codding 
ICHBOD CODDING.
unites with firmness a great deal of geniality and suav  ity of manner.  His enemies soon love him when
they know him. His conversation is fascinating, yet
is utterly devoid of art. Its naturalness is one of its
most charming characteristics.  He is intensely earn  est, overflows with anecdote and humor, and seems
never to lack bright and genial thoughts, striking sen tences, and apropos anecdotes.  As an orator, he is
surpassed by few living men. It is impossible, how ever, to compare him with his cotemporaries, for he
is only like himself. His social characteristics follow
him to the platform. He is at times vehement in his
eloquence there, but oftener calmly in earnest-clear,
frank and winning. One of his best speeches is not
characterized by a continuous stream of eloquence,
but here and there bubbles up with grand, or beau tiful passages, and the whole speech has a web of
logic stronger than steel.
In his personal appearance, Mr. Codding, at first
sight, appears to be rather rough-and it is true that
he has nothing of the fop in his composition. He is
of medium height, has a fine, compact forehead, fine,
dark hair, a large, homely mouth, but eyes of eloquent
beauty. He has a rare voice, and reads finely. Mr.
Codding was born in Bristol, Ontario county, New
York, in the year 1811. His father died a short time
previous to his birth, and he came into the world
fatherless, and an inheritor of poverty. His mother
C*
57 
MODERN AGITATORS.
was left in moderate circumstances, and all the members of the family who were old enough, were obliged
to work. Before he was twelve years old, his educational advantages were slight.  When seventeen, he
became deeply interested in the cause of temperance.
He had heard something of.certain movements in the
east, but had neither seen pledges, nor read addresses.
A little society of thirteen members was formed upon
the total abstinence basis. It is a little singular that
this original teetotal society had not a member who
was professedly a christian, or who was of age. Not
long after, however, the society changed its constitution so as to conform to those of new societies which
afterward sprang up upon the basis of the old pledge.
A few, however, would not recede, and among these
was Codding. He delivered addresses upon the subject in many places. Before he was twenty-one years
old, he had delivered over one hundred temperance
speeches.  He also took up the subject of corporeal
punishment in schools, opposing the customary use
of the rod, with a good deal of zeal.
For three years, Codding was teacher in the English department of Canandaigua academy, at the same
time pursuing higher and collegiate studies himself.
The since well-known S. A. Douglas, the little giant,
was studying at Canandaigua, while he was there.
He was then, as now, devoted to politics-read the
political newspapers eagerly and carefully, and was
58 
ICHABOD CODDING.
much more of a politician than a scholar. Before
leaving Canandaigua academy, Mr. Codding was,
probably, as accomplished a scholar as ordinary col lege graduates: he was such in the opinion of com petent judges.
When twenty-three years old, he entered Middle bury College, in Vermont.   While a freshman, he de livered a temperance speech in the town, which crea ted a good deal of excitement, and he was waited
upon by a committee who complained of his speech.
In his junior year, needing money, and being familiar with the studies of the term, he got leave of absence to teach, or engage in a benevolent agency.
He had for some time felt deeply interested in the
cause of the slave, and engaged himself for the term
to the Vermont Anti-slavery Society, to lecture. He
went out into the towns, and was met by mobs of
ruffians, in many instances, and excitement attended
his lectures everywhere. The story was widely circulated that he was a member of Middlebury College,
and the faculty, fearing that he was adding to their
unpopularity, got together, and declared that he was
away without liberty, and they therefore censured
him. Of this shamefill act he was not apprised, and
knew nothing of it till he returned to college. Upon
meeting his fellow-students, the noble young advocate
of liberty found that he was in disgrace. He went
to work in a manly fashion to make potent the injus
59 
MODERN AGITATORS
tice of the faculty. He demanded a college meeting-got his facts ready for the press, and threatened
the officers with their publication'n the public journals, unless they would rescind their vote of censure.
They finally gave him a letter of explanation in which
it was fully admitted that he was not away from college without leave.  He was now upon his former
standing, but their cruel conduct stung him to the
heart, and having etablished his innocence of the
charges against him, he left the college forever.
He immediately engaged himself as a public lecturer to the American Anti-slavery Society, and spent
the winter in Vermont. In the spring he had orders
to go to Massachusetts.  The very first place he lectured in, he was mobbed. It was in the town of
Brighton, and on the Sabbath. It was a beautiful,
sunny, summer afternoon, and at the hour of five, the
people assembled in the church to hear Mr. Codding
deliver his address upon American slavery. He entered the house where the stillness of a New England
Sabbath prevailed. But out of doors a wild mob was
fast gathering, and their harsh shouts contrasted
strangely with the still beauty of the Sabbath. Two
of the boldest of the mob entered the church.  Mr.
Codding was in the midst of an opening  prayer,
when they rushed to the pulpit and seized him,
dragged him down into the aisle, intending to pull
him out into the street, and then wreak their ven
60 
IOABOD CODDINO.
geance upon him. But the audience, by this time,
were roused to a state of excitement, and two young
men who had known Codding at college being present, seized upon the intruders, overcame them, and
binding them with handkerchiefs, forwarded them
into the front slip, and forced them to hear one antislavery lecture, at least!
The next winter, Mr. C. was sent into Maine, and
he had the honor of addressing the members of the
legislature for three hours upon the Texas question.
It was one of the greatest speeches he ever made,
and its effect was astonishing. It was afterward said
that it made above forty members over into abolitionists. In Brunswick, he was mobbed. In Calais,
he commenced a course of lectures, but a few lawyers got the people together to vote him out of town.
He attended the meeting, demanded the right to
speak on the resolutions against him, which had been
introduced, and having got the floor, used his time
to good purpose.  A set of desperadoes called "the
Indians," from the fact that, dressed as Indians, they
committed acts they dared not commit in their real
characters, were present, and by appealing to their
natural prejudices against lawyers, Mr. Codding arrested their attention, and got the meeting adjourned
till the next night, when he met resolution after resolution, defeated each one, triumphed over the lawyers, and delivered his course of lectures without
e1 
MODERN  AGITATORS.
disturbance. While in Maine, Mr. Codding, for a
time, edited an anti-slavery journal-the first established there.  iHe was, after leaving Maine, with
Judge Jay, mobbed in Bedford, New York.  After
being two years in Maine, and laying the foundation
of the liberty party in that state, he received an invitation to visit Connecticut, which he accepted. Hie
remained in Connecticut three years, making in all
parts of the state the warmest friends. With S. LM.
Booth, he established the ChAistian Freeman, now
the Republican. In 1812, he went west, to Illinois
and Wisconsin. Hie delivered a great course of lectures in Chicago, and in Waukesha, Wisconsin, he
established the first anti-slavery paper in that statethe journal now edited by Mr. Booth, at Milwaukee.
Hie also preached for a time to a Congregational
church in Waukesha, and afterwards to independent
congregations in Joliet and Lockport, Illinois.
[ While once delivering a lecture in Southern Illinois, Mr. Codding was seized by his neckerchief, and
a pistol was presented at his breast by an infuriated
beast in the shape of a man, but the calm fearlessness
of Mr. Codding overcame him, and at his bidding the
pistol dropped to the floor. lie was at one time lecturing, when a perfect volley of eggs was thrown at
him, and he drenched with them.  One eye was much
hurt by a missile, yet he preserved his humor through
62 
ICHABOD coDbDING.
this treatment, and with excellent good nature, he
said:
"Well, boys, I am fond of eggs, but I would like to have
them done up in a little different style. May be, in the haste
of your generosity, you did not take that into consideration!"
The "boys" roared with laughter at his reply to
the peculiar arguments.
The finest specimens of Mr. Codding's oratory are
unreported, and live only in the memories of those
who listened to them.  We will, however, make one
extract from an address delivered by him before a
mass convention in Illinois, and which was afterward
published in a pamphlet form:
"'Train up a child in the way he should go.' This commandment comes home to the heart of the slave father: he
looks aroundupon the little children that God has given him;
he hears the voice of God, and how it harmonizes with the response in his own bosom! Oh, how he burns with internal fire
to educate their moral and intellectual nature, and fit them for
usefulness here and for that state of being that shall come after.
He obeys by commencing to teach his child to read; the slaveholder comes in and says,' Not a letter shall that child learn.'
The slave replies,'God commands me to do it.' The slaveholder retorts,'I will show you to whom that child belongs;  I
own it as I own the pig in the sty;' and the master proves his
superior authority by triumphing over the express command
of Jehovah. What a principle is here! The chattel principle
63 
MODERN AGITATORS.
spurns all those commandments, and absolutely prevents their
fulfillment. This is slaveholding in its essential characteristics.
I beg this audience will not understand me to be speaking of
its abuse. I am talking of the seed principle-it is NOT its
abuse. Itself is the greatest of all abuses; it is the giant evil,
and overshadowing crime. The principle, then, is settled, that
chattel slavery, absolutely, so far as the slave is concerned, does
overrule the direct command of God, and asserts more than
God dare assert! If the principle is settled that God cannot
rule over all, then it is settled that he cannot rule over any.
If I say, here is a portion of the human family over which God
may not reign-it is settled thus with regard to the slave, it is
settled with regard to all men; and if God reigns over others,
it is by express permission of the chattel principle. It must
be seen, then, that if God has no right to rule over any, he is
no God: this would be No-godism —ATHEISM; and whoever
negatively, indirectly or positively puts forth an influence to
sustain this monstrous system for one moment, is so far forth
guilty of promoting downright atheism. Startle not; I have
no time nor heart to say pretty things. Every man who apologizes for slavery is warring against God's throne, and the foundation principles of his church and his ministry.
"Before I make the application of this principle to the proslavery ecelesiastics of our time, suppose we take up, and for a
moment, in the light of this principle, look at the atonement.
Now, all christians will acknowledge that Jesus Christ has be
come the end of the law for righteousness; but, if God has
no right to reign over this universe, he has no right to affix a
penalty to this law, and therefore we need no atonement. You
64 
ICHABOD CODDING.
sweep the universe fiom his jurisdiction, what need of a gos
pel? The foundation rock is taken away, and the gospel plan
has become as baseless as a vision.
"Again:' God commandeth all men now everywhere to repent.' Suppose a minister should take this for his text, and
during the discourse should make no allusion to the little particle now, do you not see that the theme is robbed of its point,
and shorn of its power?  The principal, as well as the practical reason announces that we should at once repent of all sin,
and come into immediate harmony with God. Now to seize
on one of God's rational creatures, by virtue of superior brute
force, and doom him to a wretched life of unpaid toil, is the
crowning exhibition of human guilt.  ifAN, created a little
lower than the angels-endowed with all the mysterious, incomprehensible attributes of an immortal soul-with a mind
capable of grasping the infinite and the unknown-with a destiny that shall reach through the cycles of eternity,-to go up
mid-way heaven-grapple with Deity-seize such a beinghurl him to the dust-herd him with four-footed beasts and
creeping things, and write upon his brow'Chattel, property,
BEAST or BURDEN!' This is the acme of guilt, standing unrivaled in its detestable preeminence. If this be not a sin, you
will search the catalogue of crime in vain to find one; and if
any sin in that catalogue should be repented of immediately,
in the name of God and humanity, should not this?  Now,
says the apologist for slavery,'I believe slavery ought to be
abolished, but the idea of immediate abolition is wild;' and
he calls us Jacobins! Now, I contend that when you take the
,round that thiq infamous svstem mav be continued for one
65 
MODERN AGITATORS.
moment, you array yourself against a great and cardinal prin
ciple of the gospel-the doctrine of immediate repentance.
But let the principle once be settled that we are under no obligation to repent of sin to-day, there is no proof that we shall
be to-morrow, and if not to-morrow, then never. Hence, the
principle settled that we are under no obligation to repent now,
the principle is settled that there are no moral obligations in the
universe; therefore, no authoritative law-no God. HIence, he
that arrays himself against the gospel, against the divine law,
would blot out the Deity from the universe.
"Once more, hear that anti-abolitionist:'You are right in
principle, but it will do no good to urge it.' What have we
here!  The infidel declaration that there is nothing in truth
adapted to move mind. But the doctrine taught everywhere
in the bible is, that'the right with the might shall be,' that
every honest blow struck in harmony with God and his uni.
verse, every breath of prayer, every voice of pleading, is an ac.
cretion upon the heart of universal truth; yes, and let it cheer
the true-hearted; every nail driven into the temple of truth is
.AST, and never to be extracted. This temple shall yet be
completed.
'There's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming;
We may not live to see the day,
But earth shall glisten in the ray,
Of the good time coming.'
Let it once be said there is no such adaptation in truth; hope
dies from the world, and darkness that can be felt settles down
upon the prospects of mankind. Call in your missionaries;
66 
ICHABOD CODDING.
down with your pulpits; hush the thunders of the press; cease
all moral effort, for it is uttered fiom Heaven, and believed
among men, that there is no adaptation in truth to accomplish
the purposes of benevolence; let us then go down by the cold
streams of Babylon, and hang our harps upon the willows in
utter despair.
"But thanks be to God! it is not so; let me tell all that
hear me, there is nio real effort lost; it is an impossibility; it is
a libel upon God. Thus does anti-abolition dethrone God, nullify his commandments, abrogate matrimony, mock at the atonement, scout immediate repentance, and profanely declare that
truth is not'mighty through God to the pulling down the
strong-holds of sin.'
"Now, all must admit that whoever puts forth an influence
by his theories, his indifference, his apologies or open advocacy,
to sustain slavery, is guilty of sustaining as bare-faced a system
of infidelity as ever mocked God. Do you not see that all antiabolitionists are thus implicated? I am sorry to be obliged to
say that the leading influences of the church and the ministry
in this country are in this fearful position. For uttering such
sentiments as these, the cry has been given abroad by some
ministers, and others, that I am an infidel in my tendencies.
Such a charge was made against me recently in the city of Chicago, by several clergyman. Oh, I could bear it all; but when
I see these great and overgrown ecclesiastical bodies standing
upon the prostrate form of crushed humanity, and when I see
great-hearted men driven to infidelity by seeing these churches
and ministers, who profess to be the pink of piety, plead for
this blighting curse, and strengthen the hands of the oppressor,
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MODERN AGITATORS.
it is too much; I must speak out; I must assign them their
true position. You say that I am excited. I am. I never can
discuss these great principles, involving all that pertains to this
deep, mysterious nature of ours, without becoming excited;
but God grant it may not lead me to take ground for slavery!
I have endeavored to compress my remarks into as brief a space
as possible I leave it to my audience to say whether I have
nmaintained my proposition. I have, so to speak, merely endeavored to throw out the bones of the argument. I have already declared that the leading influences of the church and
ministry in America are in a position to support the system
of slavery as I have described it. In exemplifying this position,
I may seem unnecessarily severe. I have no time to get on a
Sabbath-day face or adopt a holy tone. I know no better way
than get right, and speak right on as I feel. I confess it seems
utterly impossible that any of these religious bodies should
yield an influence to support such a system. I persuade myself sometimes in my closet that it cannot be so; but, alas!
the delusion soon gives place to reality. Talk not of robbery-I cannot descend to mention it in the same connection
with slavery. Common robbery merely takes the earned;
slavery takes the EARNER; common robbery takes only the
property; slavery takes the PROPRIETOR; common robbery
clutches the thing; slavery lays rude hands upon the MAN.
Why, the slave cannot say my hands, my feet, my body-my
SOUL, without using a figure of speech! All he has belongs to
another.   Legislators and  constitution-makers talk gravely
about the rights of property. I pray you, sir, what is the
foundation right of all property-the grand, indestructible
68 
ICHABOD CODDING.
Gibraltar upon which all rights are based? My right to myself. That gone, you have swept away all that is great and
awful in man. Now, when we lay at the feet of the leading
ecclesiastics of the age the awful charge of conniving at this
atheistical principle, and of strengthening the hands of these
man-hyenas who practice on it, we are warned off as laying
hands on the sacred and the holy. I cannot help it. For
when I discover the massive moral power of these large and
influential bodies pressing with ponderous weight upon the
prostrate forms and crushed hearts of my Father's children,
and hear their suppressed sighs and groans, and see them striving, and struggling, and surging beneath the awful incubus,
and all in vain, I must and will cry out, GET OFF-IN GOD'S
NAME, GET OFF!"
Certain enemies of Mr. Codding, especially in the
west, have endeavored to injure his influence by base
falsehoods respecting his religious sentiments. We
cannot do better than quote a few paragraphs from a
letter written by the Hon. Francis Gillette, from the
west, and which was published two years since:
" From Beloit I passed down into Northern Illinois, to Lock.
port, a village situated on the Des Plaines river and Illinois canal, thirty-five miles south of Chicago. In that place and its
vicinity I spent several days with Mr. Codding, a gentleman
whom very many of the readers of the'Republican' remember
with a lively interest, as, for some years a very eloquent and
effective advocate of reform in this state, and those who had
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MODERN AGITATORS.
the pleasure of his personal acquaintance, as a truly fraternal
and genial man.  It is now ten years since Mr. Codding went
from this state to visit some relatives in the vicinity of his present abode, with no thought but to return and resume his labors
here; but he became so much interested in the great moral
harvest-field of the west, that he finally yielded to pressing solicitations, and concluded to devote himself to that fresh and inviting field of labor. As a public speaker and an itinerating
lecturer, no one of his many eastern friends and admirers will
be surprised to learn that, in Illinois and Wisconsin, through
which he has often passed and repassed, on missions of humanity and mercy, he is spoken of and admired  by many, even,
who differ from him in sentiment, as the Whitfield of the west,
before whose truthful tongue and flashing eye the chosen and
fitted champions of the opposition have quailed and slunk away
never to encounter him again. In his person and manners he
appears but slightly changed by the last ten years, time having
brushed him lightly with his hoary wing. I found this admirable man, who, could he put his great soul into his wallet, could
occupy a princely mansion and a most genteel city pulpit stuffed
with the softest and downiest cotton, occupying his "own hired
house," a very humble dwelling, quite retired from the village
of Lockport, which, he told me, he had taken with a view of
securing that retirement which is so favorable to study, and dividing his ministerial labors between two societies, neither of
which is large-one in Lockport, and the other in Joliet, a village five miles south.
"Though regularly ordained some years since, afer the strictest modes of Congregationalism, and cordially fellows.iped as
70 
ICHABOD CODDING.
sound in the faith, I understand that Mr. Codding is now regarded by the vigilant sentinels of sectarian orthodox, as having apostatized fiom the true standard, and they have raised
against him the cry of heretic. I was unable to ascertain the
exact points of his heterodoxy, though, as I was informed, it
was gravely alleged,'as a stone of stumbling and rock of
offense,' to many, who would not be thought lacking in true
piety, that men and women even, who had been' stayers at
home' from public worship, and others, not a few, who had
been Universalists, Unitarians, and I know not what other suspicious ones, were seen to attend on his ministrations. Possibly it may be true of Mr. Codding, as of some other persons
in this marvelous age of the world, that his most alarming heresy consists in the rejection of that most unadorable trinity of
slave-mongers, lower-law theologians, and hunker demagogues;
and especially the denial of that new article which has recently
been adopted into their creed, viz: that slave-catching is both
a political and saintly duty, without which there can be no salvation to the Union. He does insist that a democracy which
crushes liberty is a despotism, and that a religion without humanity is not christianity.  He teaches that the worst heterodoxy is that which violates the divine law, in practice, and that
sect-making is not christianizing society, but, on the contrary,
filling it with discord and bigotry, thus impeding the progress
of peace on earth and good will to men.  In addition to the
performance of his parochial labors, he occasionally goes out on
a lecturing tour, his great aim still being to be diligent in his
Master's vineyard, and devote all his noble powers to the elevation and advancement of his ram"
71
il 
MODERN AGITATORS.
It is impossible by description or quotation to give
the reader a just idea of Mr. Codding as a writer or
speaker. He must be seen and heard to be appreciated. Hie is now in the full maturity of his powers,
and though he perhaps lacks something of the impetuosity of his youth, he has more of wisdom and charity for his foes. We consider himn, in many respects,
a model reformer. He scarcely ever indulges in bitter denunciations of slavehlolders - scarcely ever
makes enemies, unless it be among the most depraved class of people. All over the north there are
men opposed to him, in his political, anti-slavery
views, who, nevertheless, respect and love him. Yet
he does not ever flinch a hair from rigid adherence
to principle. 
72 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
WE have no new information to communicate to
the reader respecting the history of Mrs. Stowe, nei ther do we hope to make any profound criticisms
upon her remarkable volume, and yet we cannot, in
such a series of sketches as this, wholly pass her by.
And so, though hundreds, here and in Europe, have
written about her, praised her, blamed her, criticised
her great work with acuteness, we will venture to
make her the subject of an article.
vIrs. Stowe was born in Litchfield, Connecticut,
and is a little more than forty years of age. She received an excellent education and a great deal of energy of character firom her parents. They removed
to Boston when she was young, and there she enjoyed very superior advantages in the pursuit of
knowledge. She commenced her career of usefulness as an assistant teacher in the female school of
an elder sister in Boston. Her father subsequently
went to the west, to preside over Lane Seminary, and
Mrs. Stowe, with her sister, went to Cincinnati, where
they opened a school for the education of young ladies. Lane Seminary is near Cincinnati, and in the
D 
MIODERIN AGITATORS.
course of a few years which were devoted to teaching, IHarriet Beecher was soug,ht  and won by Calvin
E. Stor-e, professor of biblical literature in the seminary, and one of the most accoiLn)lished scholars in
the country.  The married couple took up their residence in one of the buildings connected with the
seminary, and devoted to the use of the professors.
For a long termin of years this was the home of Mr.
and Mrs. Stowe.  It is not necessary for us to give a
history of the anti-slavery excitement which at one
time threatened to ruin Lane Seminary.  It is well
known that Cincinnati was for a long time the theater of violent agitation upon the question of negro
slavery. In and around it the bitterest, the most unprincipled enemies of anti-slavery doctrines lived
and also the warmest and most courageous advocates
of liberty for all men.  For years, to be an abolitionist in Cincinnati, was to be scorned, hissed at, and
threatened with death. Mob law set aside the constitution, and screamed out threats of vengeance upon
meek Christ-like men, who, with a courage exceedingly rare at this day, asserted the truth, that "all
men should be free." Anti-slavery presses were destroyed again and again, and the buildings of Lane
Seminary were often in imminent danger of being
destroyed, because of the anti-slavery reputation of
its scholars and professors. Mrs. Stowe could not
well fail to see the inherent wickedness of an institu
74 
HARn IET BEE CIIER STOWE.
tion which could only be defended by drunken mobs
with brick-bats and tar and feathers.
The diabolical persecution of the abolitionists won
them many warm friends, and sympathy for their
principles grew rapidly in thousands of hearts. Situated as Cincinnati is, the friends of the slave in its
vicinity soon found that they could show their love
for him in a more excellent way than by talking.
Poor fugitives from oppression were constantly crossing the Ohio river, and the abolitionists banded together and built an "underground railroad" to Canada. Mrs. Stowe could not, if she had wished, escape from a knowledge of the negro character. She
was often appealed to by some weary, half-starved,
lashed, slave-mother for food and shelter. She saw
time after time the shy, painful look of the fugitive —
witnessed his joy at escape, or his sorrow at the
thought of loved ones left behind in bondage. In
the course of many years she gained, not only a
knowledge of negro character, but of the terrible
atrocities which are perpetrated upon slaves by brutal masters.  She also had opportunities for knowing
the character of slave-holders and slave-catchers, for
hundreds of them were at any time to be found and
met in Cincinnati. There are many who wonder
how Airs. Stowe could gain the knowledge of negro
character, and of the character of men like Tom Loker and Mr. Shelby, so abundantly displayed in her
75 
MODERN AGITATORS.
story. We certainly cannot be surprised that an exceedingly observing woman, after a residence of fifteen or twenty years in a city commanding the trade
of slave states, and through which thousands of slaves
escaped during that time, should learn the character
-of the slaves and their owners and catchers. Besides,
Mrs, Stowe made several visits into the neighboring
slave states, and became acquainted with slave-masters and mistresses-had oportunities to see the peculiar institution at home, and its effects upon society.
For years she callmed her fervid spirit, and kept to
herself her thoughts upon the great iniquity. But
the tears of the panting fugitive, the thrilling stories
of hair-breadth escapes, were never forgotten by her;
they were all in her heart. At length with her husband she returned to the east.
The.congress of the United States saw fit, at the
bidding of the slave-power, to make every man in the
free states a slve-catclter.  The scenes which followed
the enactment of that terrible law caused the story
of UnIcle Ton's Cabig to be written.  Night after
night Mrs. Stowe wept bitter tears over them, and
she resolved to write a story of slavery: the world
knows the rest.
Of Mrs. Stowe's personal appearance we have little to say. We think no one could mistake her for
an ordinary woman. There is a look of conscious
power in her face. There is strength of character
q6
1r  
HARRIET BEEICHER STOWE.
expressed in it. She is not a beautiful womlan, and
yet her eyes are not often surpassed in beauty. They
are dark and dreamy, and look as if some sorrowful
scene ever haunted her brain. In dress she is very
plain and homely; in manners gentle, without a par ticle of false gentility.
V  Previous to commencing in the -Yational Era her
great story of Uncle Tom, Mfrs. Stowe had written
comparatively brief sketches and tales, which were
gathered into a little volume entitled " The Xay fjower," a quaint and exceedingly appropriate name.
Those who have read the little book could not have
been surprised when they read her subsequent and
more popular volume. For, though the brevity of
the little stories and sketches in the earlier volume
precluded the possibility of eminent success in the
portraiture of individuals, or of great popularity for
the book, yet they were executed with wonderful skill.
To us, after a fresh reading of the volume, with our
eyes yet wet with tears of sympathy, and bur sides not
yet done aching with laughter, Uncle Tom seems no
marvelous advance upon the Mayflower. The one
was fragmentary-the other whole, complete. There
are passages in the first, almost or quite equal to anything, in the last. There are stories, though short,
which are told most admirably.  In them we see
M]rs. Stowe's wonderful skill at sketching character.
She describes the old Puritan in such a vivid style,
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MODERN AGITATORS.
that he appears to the reader as if painted on canvas
by a master artist.  There is, too, the same tendency
to humor in these little sketches as in Uicele Torn's
Cabin-also the same inimitable pathos. We cannot
do better than to copy one of her sketches. Those of
our readers who have read it once, will delight to do
so again, and those who have never read it, will
thank us for copying it here. It is entitled
"LITTLE EDWARD."
Were any of you born in New England, in the good old
catechising, church-going, school-going, orderly times? If so,
you may have seen my Uncle Abel; the most perpendicular,
rectangular, upright, downright, good man that ever labored six
days and rested on the seventh.
You remember his hard, weather-beaten countenance, where
every line seemed drawn with "a pen of iron and the point of
a diamond;" his considerate, gray eyes, that moved over objects as if it were not bst to be in a hurry about seeing; the
circumspect opening and shutting of his mouth; his down-sitting and up-rising, all performed with conviction aforethoughtin short, the whole ordering of his life and conversation, which was,
according to the tenor of the military order, "to the right about
face —forward, march!"  Now if you supposed, fiom all this
triangularism of exterior, that this good manii had nothing kindly
within, you were much mistaken.   You often find the greenest
grass under a snow-drift; and, though my uncle's mind  was
not exactly of the flower-garden kind, still there was an ablun.
dance of wholesome and kindly vegetation there.
78, 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
It is true, he seldom laughed and never joked, himself, but no
man had a more serious and weighty conviction of what a good
joke was in another; and when some exceeding witticism was
dispensed in his presence, you might see Uncle Abel's face
slowly relax into an expression of solemn satisfaction, and 1e
would look at the author with a sort of quiet wonder, as if it
was past his comprehension how such a thing could come into
a man's head.
Uncle Abel, too, had some relish for the fine arts; in proof
of which I might adduce the pleasure with which he gazed at
the plates in his family bible, the likeness whereof is neither in
heaven, nor on earth, nor under the earth. And he was also
such an eminent musician, that he could go through the singingbook at one sitting, without the least fatigue, beating time like
a windmill all the way.
He had, too, a liberal hand, though his liberality was all by
the rule of three.  He did to his neighbor exactly as he would
be done by;' he loved some things in this world very sincerely:
he loved his God much, but he honored and feared him more;
he was exact with others, he was more exact with himself, and
he expected his God to be more exact still.
Everything in Uncle Abel's house was in the same time, and
place, and mannier, and form from year's end to year's end.
There was old Mlaster Bose, a dog after my uncle's own heart,
Mvho always walked as if he were studying the multiplication
table. There was the old clock, forever ticking in the kitchen
c,:rel,r{  with a picture on its face of the sun forever setting behinid a perpendicular row of poplar trees. There was the never-failing supply of red peppers and onions, hanging over the
79 
0MODERN AGITATORS.
chimney.  There, too, were the yearly hollyhocks and morningglories, blooming about the windows. There was the "best
loom," with its sanlded floor, the cupboard in one corner, with
its glass doors, the evergreen asparagus bushes in the chimney,
and there was the stand, with the bible and almanac on it, in
another comner. There, too, was Aunt Betsey, who never
looked any older, because she always looked as old as she
could; who always dried her catnip and wormwood the last
of 4,eptember, and began to clean house the first of May. In
short, this was the land of continuance.  Old time never took
it into his head to practice either addition, or subtraction, or
multiplication on its sum total.
This Aunt Betsey aforenamed, was the neatest and most efficient piece of human machinery that ever operated in forty
places at once. She was always everywhere, predominating
over, and seeing to everything; and though my uncle had been
twice married, Aunt Betse'ys rule and authority had never been
broken.' She reigned over his wives when living, and reigned
after them when dead, and so seemed likely to reign on to the
end of the chapter. But my uncle's latest wife left Aunt Betsey a much less tractable subject than ever before had fallen to
her lot. Little Edward was the child of my uncle's old age,
and a brighter, merrier little blossom never grew on the verge
of an avalanche.  Hie had been committed to the nursing of his
grandmamma till he had arrived at the age of indiscretion, and
then my old uncle's heart so yearned for him that he was sent
for home.
IHis introduction into the family excited a terrible sensation.
Never was there such a contemner of dignities, such a violator
so 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
of high places and sanctities, as this very Master Edward. It
was all in vain to try to teach him decorum. Hle was the most
outrageously merry elf that ever shook a head of curls; and
it was all the same to him whether it was " Sabba' day" or any
other day, he laughed and frolicked with everybody and every thing that came in his way, not even excepting his solemn old
father; and when you saw him, with his fair arms around the
old man's neck, and his bright blue eyes and blooming cheek
pressing out beside the bleak face of Uncle Abel, you might
fancy you saw spring caressing winter.  Uncle Abel's metaphysics were sorely puzzled by this sparkling, dancing compound of spirit and matter; nor could he devise any method
of bringing it into any reasonable shape, for he did mischief
with an energy and perseverance that was truly astonishing.
Once he scoured the floor with Aunt Betsey's very best Scotch
snuff; once he washed up the hearth with Uncle Abel's most
immaculate clothes-brush; and once he was found trying to
make Bose s-ear his father's spectacles.  In short, there was no
use, except the right one, to which he did not put everything
that came in his way.
But Uncle Abel was most of all puzzled to know what to do
with him on the Sabbath, for on that day Master Edward
seemed to exert himself to be particularly diligent and entertaining.  "Edward!-Edward must not play Sunday!" his
father would call out; and then Edward would hold up his
curly head, and look as grave as the catechism; but in three
minutes you would see "pussy" scampering through the "bost
room," with Edward at her heels, to the entire discomposure
of all devotion in Aunt Betsey and all others in authority.
D*                            6
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MODERN AGITATORS.
At length my uncle came to the conclusion that "it wasn't
in natur' to teach him any better," and that " he could no more
keep Sunday than the brook down in the lot."  My poor uncle!
he did not know what was the matter with his heart, but certain it was, he lost all faculty of scolding, when Little Edward
was in the case, and he would rub his spectacles a quarter of
an hour longer than common, when Aunt Betsey was detailing
his witticisms and clever doings.
In process of time our hero had cornpassed his third year,
and arrived at the dignity of going to school. Hie went illustriously through the spelling-book, and then attacked the catechism; went from "man's chief end" to the "requirin's and
forbiddin's" in a fortnight, and at last came home inordinately
merry, to tell his father that he had got to "amen." After
this, he made a regular business of saying over the whole every
Sunday evening, standing with his hands folded in front, and
his checked apron folded down, occasionally glancing round to
see if pussy gave proper attention. And, being of a practitally benevolent turn of mind, he made several commendable
efforts to teach Bose the catechism, in which he succeeded as
well as might be expected. In short, without further detail,
Master Edward bade fair to become a literary wonder.
But alas for poor Little Edward! his merry dance was soon
over. A day came when he sickened, Aunt Betsey tried her
whole herbarium, but in vain: he grew rapidly worse and
worse. His father sickened in heart, but said nothing; he
only stayed by his bedside day and night, trying all means to
save with affecting pertinacity.
82 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
" Can't you think of anything more, doctor?" said he to
the physician, when all had been tried in vain.
" Nothing," answered the physician.
A momentary convulsion passed over my uncle's face.
"The will of the Lord be done," said he, almost with a groan
of anguish
Just at that moment a ray of the setting sun pierced the
checked curtains, and gleamed like an angel's smile across the
face of the little sufferer. ile woke from troubled sleep.
"Oh, dear! I am  so sick!" he gasped, feebly.  His father
raised him in his arms; he breathed easier, and looked up with
a grateful smile. Just then his old playmate, the cat, crossed
the room.  "There goes pussy," said he; "Oh, dear! I shall
never play with pussy any more."
At that moment a deadly change passed over his face. He
looked up in his father's face with an imploring expression, and
put out his hands as if for help. There was one moment of
agony, and then the sweet features all settled into a smile of
peace, and " mortality was swallowed up of life."
My unicle laid him down, and looked one moment at his
beautiful face. It was too much for his principles, too much
for his consistency, and "he lifted up his voice and wept."
The next morning was the Sabbath-the funeral day-and
it rose with "'breath all incense and with cheek all bloom."
Uncle Abel was as calm and collected as ever, but in his face
there was a sorrow-stricken appearance touching to behold. I
remember him at family prayers, as he bent over the great
bible and began the psalm,'; Lord, thou has been our dwellingplace in all generations."  Apparently he was touched by the
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MODLJAN AGITATORS
melancholy splendor of the poetry, for after readiing a few ver ses he stopped.  There was a dead silence, interrupted only
by the tick of the dock.  Hle cleared his voice repeatedly, and
tried to go on, but in vain.  Hle closed the book and kneeled
down to prayer. The energy of sorrowy broke through his
usual formal reverence, and his language flowed forth with a
deep and sorrowful pathos which I shall never forget. The
God so much reverenced, so much feared, seemed to draw
near to him as a friend and comforter, his refuge and strength,
"a very present help in tiine of trouble."
My uncle rose, and I saw him walk to the room of the
departed one. He uncovered the face. It was set with the
seal of death, but oh! how surpassingly lovely!  The brilliancy
of life was gone, but that pure, transparent face was touched
with a mysterious, triumphant brightness, which seemed like the
dawning of heaven.
My uncle looked long and earnestly. He felt the beauty
of what.he gazed on; his heart was softened, but he had no
words for his feelings. He left the room unconsciously, and
stood in the front door. The morning was bright; the bells
were ringing for church; the birds were singing merrily, and
the pet squirrel of Little Edward was frolicking about the door.
My uncle watched him as he ran first up one tree, and then
down and up another, and then over the fence, whisking his
brush, and chattering just as if nothing was the matter.
With a deep sigh Uncle Abel broke forth:   "How happy
that crerur' is!  Well, the Lord's will be done!"
That day the dust was committed to dust, amid the lamentations of all who ha known Little Edward. Years have passed
84 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
since then, and all that is mortal of my uncle has long since
been gathered to his fathers, but his just and upright spirit has
entered the glorious liberty of the sons of God. Yes, the good
man may have had opinions which the philosophical scorn,
weaknesses at which the thoughtless smile; butdeath shall change
him into all that is enlightened, wise, and refined; for he shall
awake in "His" likeness, and be satisfied.
There are persons who pretend to believe that Mrs.
Stowe's story of Uncle Tom is not a work of remark able genius and power. Its success, they say, arose
from the desire of the people of the northern states
and Europe to hear harrowing tales of negro slavery.
We confess that for such critics we have little charity. Their prejudices lead them astray-or they are
incapable of making a just criticism. What is the
reason that anti-slavery tales, written and published
long before that by Mrs. Stowe, did not meet with
great success?  Several had  been published, but
though moderately well written, the public did not
go enthusiastic over them. But when a tale of
slavery came to be written in a masterly manner,
full of pathos, humor and eloquence, it attracted the
attention of the public. Friends of the slave first
read it, andl, discovering that it was, aside from its
teachings, the most remarkable story of the time, they
called the attention of tihe great world of indifferent
men and women to the fact. The story flew on the
86 
MODERN AGITATORS.
wings of the winld. Millions cried over it, who had
never before bestowed a thought upon the negro
slave; it met with a success, such perhaps as no other
single volume, since the art of printing was invented,
can boast. And can men with brains be persuaded
that a volume not remarkable for its power of exciting the sympathies of the people accomplished this?
Let superannuated women believe it, and no others.
n-cle, Too'gs Cabin  is one of the most remarkable
volumes of the century, and its authoress will go
down to posterity, not merely as a philanthropist, but
as a great writer, possessed of a most brilliant genius.
The leading critics of Europe have already recorded
this as their decision, as well as all the competent
and unprejudiced ones in this country. There are
scattered through the volume some of the finest
pictures in the English language. When Eliza
heard that her boy was sold, she " crept stealthily
away." HIow vividly in the following extract is her
agony portrayed:
"'Pale, shivering, with rigid features and compressed lips,
she looked an entirely altered being from the soft and timid
creature she had been hitherto. She moved cautiously along
the entry, paused one moment at her mistress' door, raised her
hands in mute appeal to heaven, and then turned and glided
into her own room. It was a quiet, neat apartment, on the
same floor with her mistress. There was the pleasant, suimy
window, where she had often sat singing at her sewing; there
86 
HARRIET BEECIER STOWE.
a little case of books, and various little fancy articles, ranged
by them, the gifts of Christmas holidays; there was her simple wardrobe in the closet and in the drawers; here was, in
short, her home; and, on the whole, a happy one it had been
to her. But there, on the bed, lay her slumbering boy, his
long curls falling negligently around his unconscious face, his
rosy mouth half open, his little fat hands thrown out over the
bed-clothes, and a smile spread like a sunbeam over his whole
face.
"' Poor boy! poor fellow!' said Eliza;'they have sold you!
but your mother will save you yet!'
"No tear dropped over that pillow; in such straits as these,
the heart has no tears to give-it drops only blood, bleeding
itself away in silence."
It is impossible in our limited space to give by extracts any adequate idea of the graphic power of the
story, and it is unnecessary, for everybody has read
it.  But there are passages which we often delight
to read- and a few of them, gems, we must again
look at. The episode of the slave-mother, cheated
by a brutal master of her husband, and inveigled
aboard a steamboat going down the Ohio, is one of
these passages:
"The woman looked calm as the boat went on, and a beautiful, soft, sunmmer breeze passed like a compassionate spirit
over her head-the gentle breeze that never inquires whether
the brow is dusky or tair that it fans.  And she saw sunshine
sparkling on the water, in golden ripples, and heard gay voices,
87 
MOD)ERN AGITATORS.
fill of ease and pleasure, talking around her everywhere; but
her heart lay- as if a great stone had fallen on it.  Her baby
raised himself up against her, and stroked her cheeks with his
little hands  and, springing up and down, crowing and chatting, seemed determined to arouse her.  She strained him suddenly and  igltly in her arms, and slowly one tear after another fell on his wondering, unconscious face; and gradually
she seemed, but little by little, to grow calmer, and busied
herself with!clding and nursing him."
The wretched mother lays her babe down to
sleep, and a devil in human form steals that too,
from her:
"'Lucy,' said the trader,'your child's gone; you may as
well know it first as last.  You see, I know'd you could n't
take him down south; and I got a chance to sell him to a first.
rate family, that'11 raise him better than you can.'
"But the woman did not scream.  The shot had passed too
straight and direct through her heart for a cry or tear. Dizzily she sat drown. Her slack hands fell lifeless by her side.
Hier eyes looked straight forward, but she saw nothing. All
the noise and hum of the boat, the groaning of the machinery,
mingled dreamily to her bewildered ear; and the poor, dumbstricken heart had neither cry nor tear to show for its utter
misery. Sh.e was quite calm."
But thc following paragraphs are the finest in this
tragical episode; indeed, it is as touching a description as we ever saw. Note how the beauty of tho
88 
HARRIE T BEECHER STOWE.
night, its mysterious solemnity, and the agony of the
one poor heart are commingled:
"Night came on-night, calm, unmoved, and glorious, shining down with her innumerable and solemn angel eyes, twiinkling, beautiful, but silent. There was no speech nor language,
no pitying voice nor helping hand, from that distant sky. One
after another the voices of business or pleasure died away; all
on the boat were sleeping, and the ripples at the prow were
plainly heard. Tom stretched himself out on a box, and there,
as he lay, he heard, ever and anon, a smothered sob or cry
from the prostrate creature-' O! what shall I do!  O  Lord!
O good Lord, do help me!' and so, ever and anon, until the
murmur died away in silence.
"At midnight Tom waked with a sudden start. Something
black passed quickly by him to the side of the boat, and he
heard a splash in the water.  No one else saw or heard anything. He raised his head-the woman's place was vacant!
IHe got up, and sought about him in vain. The poor bleeding
heart was still at last, and the river rippled and dimpled just as
brightly as if it had not closed above it."
We must quote also the inimitable description of
"LITTLE EVA."
Hler form was the perfection of childish beauty, without its
usual chubbiness and squareness of outline. There was about
it an undulating and aerial grace, such as one might dream of
for some mythic and allegorical being. Her face was remarkable less for its perfect beauty of feature than for a singular alnd
89 
MODERN AGITATORS.
dreamy earnestness of expression, which made the ideal start
when they looked at her, aid by which the dullest and most
iliteral were impressed, without exactly knowing why. The
shape of her head and the turn of her neck and bust were
particularly noble, and the long golden-brown hair that floated
like a cloud around it, the deep, spiritual gravity of her violetblue eyes, shaded by heavy fringes of golden brown - all
marked her out from other children, and made every one turn
to look after her, as she glided hither and thither on the boat.
Nevertheless, the little one was not what you would have called
either a grave child or a sad one. On the contrary, an airy
and innocent playfulness seemed to flicker like the shadow of
summer leaves over her childish face, and around her buoyant
figure. She was always in motion, always with a half smile
on her rosy mouth, flying hither and thither, with an undulya
ting and cloud-like tread, singing to herself as she moved, as in
a happy dream.   Her father and female guardian were incessanfly busy in pursuit of her, but when caught, she melted from
them again like a summer cloud; and as no word of chiding or reproof ever fell on her ear for whatever she chose to do, she pursued her own way all over the boat. Alvays dressed in white,
she seemed to move like a shadow through all sorts of places,
without contracting spot or stain; and there was not a corner
or nook, above or below, where those fairy footsteps had not
glided, and that visionary golden head, with its deep blue eyes,
fleeted along.
The fireman, as he looked up from  his sweaty toil, some
times found those eyes looking wonderingly into the raging
depths of the furnace, and fearfully and pityingly at him, as
90 
T HARRIET BEERCHER STOWVE.
if she thought him in some dreadful danger. Anon the steersman at the wheel paused and smiled, as the picture-like head
gleamed through the window of the round-house, and in a moment was gone again. A thousand times a day rough voices
blessed her, and smiles of unwonted softness stole over hard
faces as she passed; and when she tripped fearlessly over
dangerous places, rough, sooty hands were stretched involuntarily out to save her and smooth her path.
iHere is something entirely different, and yet executed with wonderful skill, as any one can attest
who has lived in New England. It is a picture of
"A NEW ENGLAND FARM-HOUSE."
Whoever has traveled in the New England states will remember, in some cool village, the large farmhouse, with its
clean-swept, grassy yard, shaded by the dense and massive foliage of the sugar-maple; and remember the air of order and
stillness, of perpetuity and unchanging repose, that seemed to
breath over the whole place. Nothing lost, or out of order;
not a picket loose in the fence, not a particle of litter in the
turfy yard, with its clumps of lilac bushes growing up under
the windows. Within he will remember wide, clean rooms,
where nothing ever seems to be doing or going to be done,
where everything is once and forever rigidly in place, and
where all household arrangements move with the pncetual exactuess of the old clock in the corner.  In the family "keepingroom," as it is termed, he will remember the staid, respectable
old book-case, with its glass doors, where Rollin's History, Mil
91 
MODERN AGITATORS.
ton's Para( t'e Lost, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, and Scott's
Family Bible, stand side by side in decorous order, with multitudes of ocller books, equally solemn and respectable. There
are no servants in the house, but the lady in the snowy cap,
with the spectacles, who sets sewing every afternoon among her
daughters, as if nothing ever had been done, or were to be done
-she and her girls, in some long-forgotten fore part of the day,
"did up the work," and for the rest of the time, probably, at
all hours -Nsiion you would see them, it is " done up."  The old
kitchen floor never seems stained or spotted; the tables, the
chairs, and the various cooking utensils, never seem deranged
or disordered; though three and sometimes four meals a day
are got thei'e, though the family washing and ironing is there
performed, and though pounds of butter and cheese are in some
silent and rmysterious maniner there brought into existence.
And here is something very, very beautiful. The
gentle Eva is passing calmly and quietly to her home
in heavenr:
"St. Clare smiled.   You must excuse him, he could n't help
it-for St. Caire could smile yet.  For so bright and placid
was the farewell voyage of the little spirit-by such sweet and
fragrant br, uzs was the small bark borne toward the heavenly
shores, that it wmas impossible to realize that it was death that
was approachi'ng.  The child felt no pain-only a tranquil, soft
weakness, dOaly and almost insensibly increasing; and she was
so beautiful, Nc loving, so trustful, so happy, that one could not
resist the scathing influence of that air of innocence and peace
which seemed to breathe around her. St. Clare found a strange
92 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
calm coming over him.  It was not hope-that was impossible;
it was not resignation; it was only a calm resting in the present,
which seemed so beautiful that he wished to think of no future.
It was like that hush of spirit which we feel amid the bright,
mild woods of autumn, when the bright hectic flush is on the
trees, and the last lingering flowers by the brook; and we joy
in it all the more because we know that soon it will all pass
away."7
The unbounded popularity of Uncle Totn's Cabin,
provoked such violent and false accusations on the
Iart of its enemies, that lAfrs. Stowe was almost
obliged to prepare a key, which should prove that
she had not exaggerated in her story. In a letter to
fi'iends in Scotland, she speaks thus of the labor of
preparing it:
;6
"When the time came for me to fulfil my engagement with
you, I was, as you know, confined to my bed with a sickness,
brought on by the exertion of getting the Key to Uncle Tomn's
Cabin through the press during the winter.  The labor of preparing that book, simply as an intellectual investigation, was severe; but what a risk of life and health it was to me, no one
can appreciate but myself.
"Nothing could have justified me, with my large family of
children, in making such an effort, in the state of health in
which I then was, except the deep conviction which I had, and
still have, that I was called of God's providence to do it.
"In every part of the world, the story of Uncle Tom had
awakened sympathy for the poor American slave, and, conse
93 
MODERN AGITATORS.
quently, in every part of the world, the story of his wrongs
had been denied; and it had been asserted that it was a mere
work of romance, and I was charged with being the slanderer of
the institutions of my own country.
"I knew that, if I shrunk from supporting my position, the
sympathy which the work had excited would gradually die out,
and the whole thing would be looked upon as a mere romantic excitement of the passions, without any adequate basis of
facts.
"Feeble and reduced as I was, it became absolutely neessary that I should take this opportunity, when the attention of
the world was awakened, to prove the charges which I had
made.
"Neither could such a work be done slightly; for every
statement was to be thrown before bitter and unscrupulous enemies, who would do their utmost to break the force of everything which was said.
"It was, therefore, necessary that not an assertion should be
made without the most rigorous investigation and scrutiny;
and, worn as I then was with the subject, with every nerve
sensitive and sore, I was obliged to spend three months in what
were to me the most agonizing researches.
"The remembrance of that winter is to me one of horror.
I,could not sleep at night, and I had no comfort in the daytime. All that consoled me was, that I was bearing the same
kind of suffering which Christ bore, and still bears, in view of
the agonies and distresses of sin in this world."
The "Key" was eminently successful in sustaining
the   th of the story of Uncle Tom.  It was an aw
94 
HARRIET BEECHER STOWVE. 
ful exposure to the world of American slavery, and
one which Mfrs. Stowe would gladly have avoided,
but it was forced upon her in self-defense. That it
and the book to which it is an accompaniment may
fly swiftly upon their errand of mercy, to beg for the
poor slave the sympathy and love of every humane
heart, is our heartfelt desire.
95 
ELIHU BURRITT.
ELIHU BURRITT is forty-three years old, and was
born in the village of New Britain, Connecticut, a
few miles south-west of the city of IHartford.  His
parents were very poor, and a common school educa tion was all that they could give their children. The
father was an ordinary man-honest, virtuous and re spectable, though excessively poor. The mother, how ever, was remarkable for her many virtues. She was
a woman of fine intellect, lofty courage, ardent piety,
and brought up her children most admirably. Such
mothers seem always to have uncommon children.
Besides the subject of this sketch, she had another
son, Elijah Burritt, whose name is not unknown to
fame, and who perished on the prairies of the far south,
a victim to an insatiable thirst for adventure and
knowledge.
Elihu, like the majority of New England boys, laid
the foundation for his after greatness, in a district
school-house. While yet a boy, lie had visions of
future greatness.  Though the roof beneath which he
slept was humble, though his position was lowly, yet
in his heart there were great and noble aspirations. 
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ELIHU BURRITT.
We have heard him speak of some of his boyish
dreams of future usefulness, and he would be dull,
indeed, who could not gather from them the fact that
at a very early age, he looked forward to a career
by no means insignificant.  At a certain age, he was
filled with a martial spirit. Nor is this a singular
fact, as it arose from an ardent admiration of heroism.
He saw, as he grew older, that true heroism does not
consist in'cutting mnen's throats, but in braving the
scorn, ridicule and hatred of wicked men, and doing
great deeds of humanity. But at one time in his life,
when he was young, he read much of warlike men,
and the sound of the drum stirred his heart, as if he
had been a soldier. WVe heard him once, by the fireside, tell how he, when a boy, rose one morning long
before sunrise, to accompany, on foot, a few kindred
spirits to a. neighboring town, to witness a "regimental training." The long walk, through lonesome
woods and valleys, was filled with martial tales and
dreams of future heroic, martial deeds. The marching and counter-marching of the soldiers, the spirited
music, the slhamln-fighting, all made a deep impression
upon him.  For lie saw not mere red-coated men
saw not sltam conflicts, but his imagination transformed the real into the unreal, and he gazed upon a
regiment of heroes, ready to spill their last drop of
blood in the cause of freedom! In a little time, he
learned that all is not what it seems, but an ardent
7
97
E 
MODERN AGITATORS.
admiration for the truly heroic, characterizes him
to-day.
At an early age, ir. Burritt commenced to learn
the trade of a blacksmith, in his native town.  While
learning his trade, he prosecuted his school studies
with great industry.  lie soon, alone and unaided,
took up a Latin grammar, and made himself familiar
with that language. He then took up the Greek,
then the Italian, and, in the course of a few years,
could read more or less readily in nearly fifty languages. The last year which MIr. Burritt spent in
New Britain, before seeking his fortune abroad, he
kept a refreshment-shop in the village. Being unsuccessful, he left it, and, as he was desirous of enjoying the privileges of an antiquarian library, he removed to Worcester, Massachusetts, where he worked
industriously at his trade and books. His linguistical' acquirements soon gave him notoriety. In the
mean time, his fertile brain was filled with great
plans for the future. He once went to Boston witl
a view to take ship to some distant countries, where
he could, with better advantage, pursue his study of
the languages. The world should rejoice that he,
about this time, renounced his passion for linguistical
knowledge, and devoted himself with intense earnestness to the advocacy of peace, temperance, and antislavery. He established a weekly journal in Worcester, called the " Chrisian Citizen," in which he
98 
ELIIHtU BURRT'i'rT.
poured out the wealth of his heart and brain. IHis
powerful articles soon attracted the attention  of
the good and great, and his journal had a wide circulation.  We think that some of the miscellaneous
writings of Afr. Burritt are among the finest things
in the English language; and as those who have read
them once, will not dislike to read them  a second
time, we copy two or three of them here. Here is
the best description, in a few lines, of the iron horse,
we ever saw:
"I love to see one of these huge creatures, with sinews of
brass and muscles of iron, strut forth from his smoky stable,
and, saluting the long train of cars with a dozen sonorous puffs
from his iron nostrils, fall back gently into his harness. There
he stands. champing and foaming upon the iron track, his great
heart a fuirnace of glowing coals; his lymphatic blood is boiling in his veins; the strength of a thousand horses is nerving
his sinews; he pants to be gone. He would' snake' St. Peters
across the desert of Sahara, if he could be fairly hitched to it;
but there is a little, sober-eyed, tobacco-chewing man in the saddle, who holds him in with one finger, and can take away his
breath in a moment, should he grow restive or vicious. I am
always deeply interested in this man, for, begrimmed as he
may be with coal, diluted in oil and steam, I regard him as the
genius of the whole machinery; as the physical mind of that
huge steam-horse."
The little sketch which follows is, it seems to us,
is one of the most touching ever written:
99
4'
-v I
4'
1. I.,, 
MIODERN AGITATOPRS.
"BURY ME IN THE GARDEN."
There was sorrow there, and tears were in every eye; and
there were low, half-suppressed sobbings heard from every corner of the room; but the little sufferer was still; its young
spirit was just on the verge of departure. The mother was
bending over it in all the speechless yearnings of parental love,
with one arm under its pillow, and with the other, unconsciously
drawing the little dying girl closer and closer to her bosom.
Poor thing! in the bright and dewy morning it had followed out
before its father into the field; and while he was there engaged
in his labors, it had patted around among the meadow-flowers,
and had stuck its bosom full, and all its burnished tresses, with
carmine and lily-tinted things; and returning tired to its father's
side, he had lifted it upon the loaded cart; but a stone in the road
had shaken it from its seat, and the ponderous, iron-rimmed
wheels had ground it down into the very cart-path-and the little
crushed creature was dying.
We had all gathered up closely to its bedside, and were hanging over the young, bruised thing, to see if it yet breathed, when
a slight movement came over its lips and its eyes partly opened.
There was no voice, but there was something beneath its eyelids
which a mother alone could interpret. Its lips trembled again,
and we all held our breath-its eyes opened a little farther, and
then we heard the departing spirit whisper in that ear which
touched those ashy lips: "Mother!  Mother!  don't let them
calTy me away down to the dark, cold grave-yard, but bury me
in the garden-in the garden, mother."
A little sister, whose eyes were raining down with the meltings
of her heart, had crept up to the bedside, and taking the hand
ioo 
ELIHU BURRITT.
of the dying girl, sobbed aloud in its ears: "Julia! Julia! can't
you speak to Antoinette?"
The last, fluttering pulsation of expiring nature struggled
hard to enable that little spirit to utter one more wish and word
of affection: its soul was on its lips, as it whispered again:
"Bury  me in the garden, mother-bury me in the                 "
and a quivering came over its limnbs, one feeble struggle, and
all was still.
The last sketch which we quote is, perhaps, the
best:
THE NATURAL BRIBGE.
The scene opens with a view of the great Natural Bridge in
Virginia. There are three or four lads standing in the channel
below, looking up with awe to that vast arch of unhewn rocks,
which the Almighty bridged over those everlasting butments
" when the morning stars sang together." The little piece of
sky spanning those measureless piers, is full of stars, although
it is midday. It is almost five hundred feet from where they
stand, up those perpendicular bulwarks of limestone, to the key
rock of that vast arch, which appears to them only of the size
of a man's hand. The silence of death is rendered more impressive by the little stream that falls from rock to rock down
the channel. The sun is darkened, and the boys have unconsciously uncovered their heads, as if standing in the presencechamber of the Majesty of the whole earth. At last, this feeling begins to wear away;  they begin to look around them
they find that others have been there before them. They see
the names of hundreds cut in the limestone butmenlts. A new
101 
MODERN AGITATORS.
feeling comes over their young hearts, and their knives are in
their hands in an instant.  "What man has done, man can do,"
is their watchword, while they draw themselves up, and carve
their names a foot above those of a hundred full-grown men
who have been there before them.
They are all satisfied with this feat of physical exertion,
except one, whose example illustrates perfectly the forgotten
truth that there is no royal road to intellectual eminence. This
ambitious youth sees a name just above his reach, a name that
will be green in the memory of the world, when those of Alexauder, C.esar, and Bonaparte shall rot in oblivion. It was the
name of Washington. Before he marched with Braddock to
that fatal field, he had been there, and left his name a foot above
all his predecessors. It was a glorious thought of the boy, to
write his name side by side with that of the great father of his
country.  He grasps his knife with a firmer hand; and, clinging to a little jutting crag, he cuts a niche into the limestone,
about A foot above where he stands; he then reaches up and
cuts another for his hands.'Tis a dangerous adventure; but,
as he puts his feet and hands into those niches, and draws himself up carefully to his full length, he finds himself a foot above
every name chronicled in that mighty wall. While his companions are regarding him with concern and adniration, he cuts
his name in rude capitals, large and deep, into that flinty album.
Hiis knife is still in his hand, and strength in his sinews, and a
new-created aspiration in his heart. Again he cuts another
niche, and again he carves his name in larger capitals.  This is
not enough. Heedless of the entreaties of his companions, he
cuts and climbs again.  The gradations of his ascending scale
102 
ELIHU BUPRRITT.
grow wider apart. He measures his length at every gain he
cuts.  The voices of his friends wax weaker  and weaker, till
their words are finally lost on his ear. He now, for the first
time, casts a look beneath him. Had that glance lasted a moment, that moment would have been his last.  He clings with
a convulsive shudder to his little niche in the rock. An awful
abyss awaits his almost certain fall.  He is faint with severe
exertion, and trembling, from the sudden view of the dreadful
destruction to which he is exposed. His knife is worn half-way
to the laft.  He can hear the voices, but not the words of his
terror-stricken companions below.   What a moment!  What
a meager chance to escape destruction!  There is no retracing
his steps. It is impossible to put his hands into the same niche
with his feet and retain his slender hold a moment. His companions instantly perceive this new and fearful dilemma, and
await his fall with emotions that "freeze their young blood."
He is too high, too faint, to ask for his father and mother, his
brothers and sisters, to come and witness or avert his destruction. But one of his companions anticipates his desire. Swift
as the wind, he bounds down the channel, and the situation of
the fted boy is told upon his father's hearth-stone.
Minutes of almost eternal length roll on, and there are hundreds standing in that rocky channel, and hundreds on the bridge
above, all holding their breath, and awaiting the fearful catastrophe.  The poor boy hears the hum of new and numerous
voices both above and below. He can just distinguish the tones
of his father, who is shouting with all the energy of despair:
"William! William! don't look down!  Your mother, and
HIcnry, and Harriet, are all here, praying for you!  Keep your
103 
MODERN AGITATORS.
eye toward the top!"  The boy didn't look down.  Htis eye
is fixed like a flint toward heaven, and his young heart on Him
who reigns there. He grasps again his knife. He cuts another
niche, and another foot is added to the hundreds that remove
him from the reach of human help from below.   How  carefuilly he uses his wasting blade! How anxiously he selects the
softest places in that vast pier! How he avoids every flinty
grain!  How he economizes his physical powers, resting a moment at each gain he cuts!  How every motion is watched from
below!  There stand his father, mother, brother and sister, on
the very spot where, if he falls, he will not fall alone.
The sun is now half-way down the west. The lad has made
fifty additional niches in that mighty wall, and now finds himself directly under the middle of that vast arch of rocks, earth,
and trees.  He must cut his way in a new direction, to get from
under this overhanging mountain. The inspiration of hope is
dying in his bosom; its vital heat is fed by the increasing
shouts of hundreds, perched upon cliffs and trees, and others
who stand with ropes in their hands, on the bridge above, or
with ladders below. Fifty gains more must be cut before the
longest rope can reach him. His wasting blade strikes again
into she limestone. The boy is emerging painfully, foot by foot,
from under that lofty arch. Spliced ropes are ready, in the
hands of those who are leaning over the outer edge of the bridge.
Two minutes more, and all will be over. The blade is worn
to the last half-inch. The boy's head reels; his eyes are starting from their sockets. His last hope is dying in his heart; his
life must hang upon the next gain he cuts.  That niche is his
last. At the last faint gash lie makes, his knife, his faithful
104 
ELIHU BURRrRT.
knife, falls from his little nerveless hand, ajid, ringing along the
precipice, falls at his mother's feet. An involuntary groan of
despair runs like a death-knell through the channel below, and
all is as still as the grave. At the height of nearly three hundred feet, the devoted boy lifts his hopeless heart, and closes
his eyes to commend his soul to God.'Tis but a moment
there! one foot swings off! hlie is reeling —trembling-toppling
over into eternity! Hark! a shout falls on his ear from above.
The man who is lying with half his length over the bridge, has
caught a glimpse of the boy's head and shoulders. Quick as
thought, the noosed rope is within reach of the sinking youth.
No one breathes. With a faint, convulsive effort, the swooning boy drops his arms into the noose. Darkness comes over
him, and with the words, GOD! and MOTHER! whispered on
his lips, just loud enough to be heard in heaven —the tightening
rope lifts him out of his last shallow niche. Not a lip moves
while he is dangling over that fearful abyss; but when a sturdy
Virginian retches down and draws up the lad, and holds him
up in his arms before the tearful, breathless multitude, such
shouting-such leaping and weeping for joy-never greeted
the ear of a human being so recovered from the yawning
gulf of eternity.
The pieces which we have quoted will not, perhaps,
give the reader a proper idea of Mr. Burritt's usual
style in his reformatory writings. He is an earnest,
powerful, enthusiastic writer. It may seem strange,
that an enthusiast should understand the power of
well-arranged facts and figures, but Mr. Birritt does,
and uses his knowledge to great advantage.
E*
105 
MODERN AGITATORS.
About eight years ago Mr. Burritt left this country
for England. We believe he was invited by the
friends of peace in that country, at any rate he
started on his way like a poot pilgrim, bent on doing
good in an humble manner. He entered England
quietly, and in a plain dress, with a knapsack over
his shoulder, wandered over the country to see its
beautiful landscapes, and to do good. One of his objects was to establish little peace societies, which he
denominated "Leagues of Brotherhood."  The first
of these he organized in the little village of Penshore,
and in the course of a few months a large number
were flourishing throughout England.  By degrees
the fame which had attached itself to him in America for his knowledge of the languages, and his powers as a writer, spread to England, and his society
was sought by great personages. But great men
were avoided by M5r. Burritt, unless they could be
made to advance the great cause to which all his energies were devoted.  Everything centered there.
In his little upper room in Broad-street, London, the
American blacksmith worked incessantly, night and
day, to advance the interests of the League of Brotherhood. lie allowed himself no intermission from
the contemplation of the one great subject.  His only
relaxation was that of lecturing in the provincial
towns upon it. Hiis "one idea" was not popular
among the fashionable classes in England, and he
106 
ELIHIU BURIT.
was not popular with them.  3But the philanthropic,
the wise and good esteemed him more and better.
His success in England, though apparently small,
was after all encouraging. He won over to the cause
of peace a large class of English men and women, who
before had not examined the subject.  And though
the state of Europe at present is not peaceful, that
does not prove that lMr. Burritt's mission there was
a failure. For several years he has advocated the
establishment of an ocean penny postage between
all the great countries of the world. This is, at present, his favorite subject, and hlie is devoting himself
mainly to its advocacy.
Mir. Burritt has a striking personal appearance.
He is rather tall, his frame is by no means puny,
though the narrowness of his chest gives him a frail
look.  Hit arms and hands, which are large and stout,
remind one of the fact, that he for years swung the
hammer upon the anvil. His face is long, forehead
large and sloping, his eyes are blue, and his mouth
is one of the finest ever man possessed. In his movements Mr. Burritt is awkward, as in his pronunciation.  His manners are somewhat of the same stamp.
This arises from his seclusion and absent-mindedness.
He is, however, exceedingly social at times, and has
great conversational talents. He has the power of
attracting the close attention of all about him, to the
subject he is discussing.
107 
3MODERN - AGITATORS.
Tie is no orator, in the ordinary meaning of the
word, but hle is sometimes intensely eloquent. Itie
has extraordinary energy, great power of concentration of thought and feeling, and when he is thoroughly aroused, he makes up for the lack of the natural graces of oratory in burning, impressive, intense
eloqluence.  His words may be uttered in a homely
style, but his thoughts are magnificent, and his enthusiasm is almost sublime. ile often, as it were,
magnetizes his audiences by his remarkable and lofty
enthusiasm. The same is true of him in conversational circles.
By long continued study Mr. Burritt has acquired
a worn and weary appearance.  Hle looks much older
than he really is, and his nervous system is injured.
Several years ago, Mr. Fowler, the phrenologist,
took a east of Mr. Burritt's head, and he speaks as
follows of his moral organs:
"He has a high head, and narrow at the base; or, a great
development of the moral organs, with small selfish propensi.
ties. His labors are eminently labors of love. In every good
work he acts a leading part. He is exerting a most excellent
influence, and doing immense good. His talents are controlled
by higher faculties. He is a true philanthropist. Long may
he live to shed benign influences on his race.
"He  has very large social organs, and hence those strong
personal friends he makes, and also that expansive love for his
fellow man, which he evinces. He abominates war, and would
108 
ELItU BURRITR.
'take Quebec by ships of PROVISIONS, instead of ships of war,'
and bind our race in one great bundle of love, by indissoluble
bonds of fraternal affection.
"His ambitious organs are likewise large, yet they take an
intellectual and moral direction. They simply fit him to take
a leading part, and sustain him in his public capacity, but do
not raise Elihu Burritt above his cause. On the other hand,
he is rather modest, yet firm and dignified, and well qualified
to lead off the public mind. May such men be multiplied till
they stay the popular tide of evil and depravity, in high places
and low, which now abounds."
Mr. Fowler quotes the following
an authentic source, in reference to
cestry and relatives:
"His maternal grandfather, Hinsdale, was a remarkable man,
intrusted with town offices, a great reader, and with only ordinary advantages, possessed himself of an extraordinary fund of
knowledge.
"Burritt's brother, author of that excellent astronomical treatise, the'Geography of the Heavens,' inherits a like insatiable
thirst after knowledge, and facility in acquiring it, besides being extensively erudite.
"A sister and a maternal nephew are also endowed with a
similar power of memory and passion for reading, as well as
capability of storing their minds with knowledge.
"One of this learned family, I think Elihu's brother, literally
killed himself by study, in which he progressed with astonishing rapidity. This wonderfiul love of learning, and capability
109
parao,rapbs from
zn
Mr. Burritt's an 
MODERN AGITATORS.
of retaining it, will undoubtedly be found to have been handed
down to the Hinsdales, and throughout the various branches
of their descendants, as far as it can be traced."
There are many more noisy reformers in the world
than Elihu Burritt, but we know of few who are acquiring a purer and nobler reputation than his. Hie is
by no means without faults, but his long and wearisome labors for his fellow-men shall not be fruitless,
nor will his name ever be forgotten.
110 
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
IT is difficult, at the present time, to do full justice
to William Lloyd Garrison. It remains for the future historian of this generation to accord to him the
position which a prejudiced people cannot now allow
him to occupy. There are so many millions who now
hate Garrison, so many thousands of comparatively
good men who dislike him, who consider him at least
rash and headstrong, that he cannot hope, for many
years, to be judged candidly and generously. We have
no more doubt that fifty years hence the name of Garrison will be revered by the American nation, than we
have of the ultimate overthrow of human slavery in
this country. We look upon him as the great puritan of anti-slavery. Like one of the grand old Puritans, he is stern, solemnly enthusiastic, terribly severe upon wrong-doers, and unswerving from his idea
of what is right. We think, also, like some of the
Puritans, he is bigoted, as men with their thoughts
directed intensely upon one object, are apt to be, but
the future generation will look upon his severity of
character, his bigotry, as we look upon the same
faults in the grand men who laid the foundations of
this republic-as spots upon the reputation of one of 
MODERN AGITATORS.
the noblest men that ever lived.  Mr. Garrison is,
we believe, a native of MIassachusetts.  At a very
early age hlie was placed in a printing office, in Newburyport, by his mother, who was a poor widow, and
a pious, worthy woman. InI the short space of twelve
months he was miaster of his trade, and at once went
to work to assist his mother, in addition to supporting himself. At an early age hlie was fond of books,
magazines, and newspapers, and read them  with
great avidity. He joined a club, and being invited
to deliver an oration before it, he did so, to the gratification of all who listened to it. Ite was also at this
time a contributor to the columns of the Newburyport Herald, furnishing for it several well-written essays, which attracted considerable attention.  5Vhen
he was twenty-one years old, he published his first
poem in that journal. Shortly after, he set up a new
paper, with the name of "The Free Press," which
was edited with so much vigor and earnestness of
purpose, that it was well received by the more advanced class of readers at the north. He, however,
soon removed to Vermont, where he published and
edited the " Journal of the,Times."  This was as
early as 1828, and he advocated in his paper "the
gradual emancipation of every slave in the republic."
He also advocated with much zeal and power the
cause of temperance.  In September, 1829, he removed to Baltimore, for the purpose of editing the
112 
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
"Genius of Unriversal Eiancipation " there.  While
performing the duties of his office, a Newburyport
merchant fitted out a small vessel, and filled it in
Baltimore with slaves for the New Orleans market.
It was a Yankee speculation in the flesh and blood
of his fellow-men, and lir. Garrison commented with
great and deserved severity upon the transaction in
his newspaper. The consequence was, he was prosecuted in the courts, before slave-holding jurors, who
were interested in getting him silenced, or at least severely rebuked. He was sentenced to pay a very
heavy fine, and to be imprisoned until he paid it.
Hie had not so much money, and never hoped even
to be possessed of so much, and therefore calmly entered his dungeon. It was his first terrible experience of the cruelty of southern despotism.  For administering a just rebuke to a man who had been
making merchandize of his fellow-men, he was sent
to hopeless confinement, and that, too, in free America! Can the reader wonder why Garrison is so bitter in his denunciations of slavery?  While in his
dungeon he composed the following beautiful and
spirited verses:
"High walls and huge the body may confine,
And iron gates obstruct the prisoner's gaze,
And massive bolts may baffle his design,
And vigilant keepers watch his desirous way.
8
113 
MODERN AGITATOIS.
"Yet scorns the immortal mind this base control I
No chains can bind it and no cell enclose;
Swifter than light it flies from pole to pole,  And in a flash from earth to heaven it goes.
"It leaps from mount to mount-from vale to vale,
It wanders plucking honeyed fruits and flowers;
It visits home to hear the fireside tale,
Or in sweet converse pass the joyous hours.
'Tis up before the sun, soaring afarAnd in its watches wearies every star."
Arthur Tappan volunteered to pay Mr. Garrison's
fine, and he was thereupon released. Hie now gave
up the attempt to publish an anti-slavery journal in
Baltimore, though he did entertain the idea of publishing one in Washington. When he established
the "Liberator" in Boston, in January, 1831, he said:
"In the month of August I issued proposals for publishing
"The  I_berator"  in Washington  city;  but the enterprise,
though hailed approvingly in different sections of the country,
was palsied by public indifference. * * * During my recent tour for the purpose of exciting the minds of the people
by a series of discourses on the subject of slavery, every place
that I visited gave fresh evidence of the fact that a greater revolution in public sentiment was to'be effected in the free states,
and particularly in New England, than at the south. I found
contempt more bitter, opposition more active, detraction more
relentless, prejudice more stubborn, and apathy more frozen than
among slave owners themselves. Of course there.were individual exceptions to the contrary. This state of things afflicted
114 
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
but did not dishearten me. I determined at every hazard to
lift up the standard of emancipation in the eyes of the nation,
within the sight of Bunker Hill, and in the birth-place of liberty.  *  *  *  I am aware that many object to the severity of my language; but is there not cause for severity? I
will be as harsh as truth, and as uncompromising as justice. On
this subject I do not wish no think, or speak, or write with
moderation. No, no! Tell a man whose house is on fire to
give a moderate alarm; tell him to moderately rescue his wife
from the hands of the ravisher; tell the mother to gradually
extricate her babe from the fire into which it has fallen; but
urge me not to use moderation in a cause like the present! I
am in earnest. I will not equivocate-I will not excuse —I
will not retreat a single inch-and I will be heard. The apathy of the people is enough to make every statue leap fromi
its pedestal, and to hasten the resurrection of the dead."
But the mlost thrilling event perhaps of his life was
the occurrence of the mob in Boston, in October, 1835.
At that time George Thompson, from England, was
in this country, and he, with AIr. Garrison, were engaged to address the Female Anti-Slavery Society,
at its annual meeting in that city. Public excitement against the abolitionists was intense, and before
the time appointed for the convention, the lessee of
Congress Hall, fearing the destruction of his property, decided that the meeting must be held elsewhere.  It was subsequently arranged to convene in
the Anti-Slavery Hall, in WTashiigtonl-street on Wed
115 
MODERN AGITATORS.
nesday, October 21st, at three o'clock, in the after noon and addresses were expected on the occasion.
Fearing lest his presence might be productive of in jury to the cause, Mr. Thompson withdrew from the
city before the day appointed. On that morning a
placard was circulated to the intent that "the infa mous foreign scoundrel, Thompson, would hold forth
in the Anti-Slavery Hall in the afternoon, and that
the present was a fair opportunity to snake him out;
that a purse of one hundred dollars had been raised
by a number of patriotic individuals, to reward the
person who should first lay violent hands upon him,
so that he might be brought to the tar kettle before
dark." By such measures, and by editorials in influential papers, the worst passions of the inhabitants
were aroused to the highest pitch of fury. Early in
the afternoon a crowd began to gather around the
building, and a little before three Mr. Garrison appeared, got through the crowd, and took his seat, expecting to address the ladies of the society, of which
quite a large number had assembled.  As the time
drew near the crowd increased, and with it increased
the intensity of the tumultuous excitement.   Mr.
Garrison now stepped towards the door of the hall,
through which some had entered and commenced
making disturbance, and very cautiously requested
themn to withdraw, stating that it was a ladies' meeting, and no gentlemen were expected to be present
116 
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
but the speakers. This had no effect, however, and
AIr. Garrison then mentioned to the president of the
society that since his own presence would evidently
increase the tumult, it would be advisable for him to
leave, to which she assented.   With an intimate
friend he now withdrew to the anti-slavery office,
which was separated from the hall by a thin partition
only, and commenced writing to an acquaintance an
account of the riot. The mob soon increased to thousands, filling the hall; the danger became imminent that they would break through into the office
and destroy the publications of the society. The
lower panel of the door was now broken through by
one of the ringleaders, who, looking in, exclaimed,
"There he is-that's Garrison; out with the scoundrel!"  Upon this, the person with him walked out,
locked the -door after him, and put the key in his
pocket.   The mayor, having at length cleared the
hall of the crowd, begged the ladies to desist, and
assured them that he could no longer protect them
from insult and violence, upon which they adjourned
to the house of one of their number to finish their
business.
The mayor then addressed the rioters; told them
that the anti-slavery meeting was broken up; that
Sir. Thompson was not there, and urged them to disperse.  But having got rid of these objects they felt
the more liberty to give exclusive attention to Mr.
117 
MODERN AGITATORS.
Garrison, and yelled his name, loudlv crying, " We
must have him! lynch him! lynch him!"   The
mayor, seeing that he had lost all control over the mob,
besought Air. Garrison to make his escape at the rear
of the building, since he could not get through the
crowd to the street. Just at this juncture his devotion to his principles were so self-forgetting as to demand special notice. A non-resistant brother near
him, seeing the danger, declared his determination to
renounce these views upon the spot, and use forcible
measures for his preservation. But MIr. Garrison
earnestly protested against such a course in the following language: "Hold, my dear brother; you
know not what spirit you are of; do you wish to become like one of these violent and bloodthirsty men,
who are seeking my life?  Shall we give blow for
blow,.and array sword against sword?  God forbid!
I will perish sooner than raise my hand against any
man, even in self-defense, and let none of my friends
resort to violence for my protection.  If my life be
taken the cause of emancipation will not suffer," &c.
Even in this hour of extremest peril, his devotion to
principles which in the hour of quiet he believed
right, rose with the danger almost to the sublime.
While all around was in an uproar, and his friends were
shivering with fear, his faith in an Omnipotent arm
was strongest. Preceded by a friend, at the peril of
his life, he dropped from the window to the ground,
118 
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
and attempted to escape through Wilson's Lane, but
was circumvented by the mob. Again he retreats
up stairs, and was secreted for a few minutes behind
a pile of boards, but being discovered by the ruffians,
his friends effected an escape. They now dragged
Garrison to the window, evidently intending to pitch
him that distance to the ground, but upon second
thought, concluded not to kill him outright, they
placed a rope around his body, apparently designing
to drag him through the streets.  Reaching  the
ground by a ladder, he disengaged himself from the
rope, and was seized by two or three of the most powerful of the rioters and dragged along bareheaded.
Blows were aimed at his head, and at length his
clothing was nearly torn from him. Insulted by the
jeers of the mob, in a denuded condition, he reached
State-street, in front of the city hall, and now there
was a tremendous rush to prevent his entering that
building. With the help of his posse and friends, the
mayor finally succeeded in getting him to his office,
where he was reclothed by individuals from the postoffice, immediately below.
The mayor and his advisers there declared that the
only safety lay in committing him to jail as a disturber of the public peace! A hack was broughlt to
the door for the purpose, but the scene that ensued
defies description. The surging mob rushed upon
the carriage with ungovernable fury, and attempted
119 
MODERN AGITATORS.
every kind of violence. The windows were broken
in, the attempt was made to overset the vehicle, but
the driver wielded his whip with such dexterity, first
upon the horses and then upon the rioters, that he
got clear, and drove for the prison. Failing to reach
there in advance of the ruffians, he drove circuitously
about, and by a back passage Mr. Garrison was at
length beyond the reach of danger, within the iron
gratings. Even here his spirit was unfettered, and
upon the walls of his cell he inscribed the following
lines:
"When peace within the bosom reigns,
And conscience gives the approving voice,
Though bound the human form in chains,
Yet can the soul aloud rejoice.
'Tis true, my footsteps are confined I cannot range beyond this cell;
But what can circumscribe my mind? To chain the winds attempt as well!
" Confine me as a prisoner-but bind me not as a slave.
Punish me as a criminal-but hold me not as a chattel.
Torture me as a man-but drive me not as a beast.
Doubt my sanity-but acknowledge my immortality."
After a mock examination he was released from
prison, but, at the earnest request of the authorities,
he left the city until the tumult had subsided.  Thus
ended a mob in that city containing the "Cradle of
Liberty," which first rocked for freedom to the tune
120 
WMILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
of "Hail Columbia," the echo of which made tyrants
tremble.   Throughout the whole transaction, Mr.
Garrison retained that coolness and presence of mind
which, evinced upon the battle field, in pursuit of
that poor bubble, glory, wins for its aspirants undying fame, earth's immortality. The same devotion
to human liberty which Garrison here manifested,
when displayed by the actors in the drama of the
American revolution, caused a thrill of animation the
world over; but when evinced in behalf of the downtrodden African, it assumes the name of fanaticism.
Mr. Garrison has been severely criticised as an ambitious man; we know of no better method of disproving it, than to remark, that aspirants for honor
are apt to strike out for themselves other paths of
distinction than those leading through scenes like the
above.  There are a few noble thoughts from Whittier which are in point here, and which give the
opinion of that sound man and earnest poet in regard
to Mr. Garrison's character.  They were addressed
TO WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
Champion of those who groan beneath
Oppression's iron hand,
In view of penury, hate and death,
I see thee fearless stand;
Still bearing up thy lofty brow,
In the steadfast strength of truth,
In manhood sealing well the vow
And promise of thy youth.
F
121 
MODERN AGITATORS.
Go on 1-for thou hast chosen well;
On in the strength of God I
Long as the human heart shall swell
Beneath the tyrant's rod.
Speak in a slumbering nation's ear,
As thou hast ever spoken,
Until the dead in sin shall hear The fetter's link be broken!l
I love thee with a brother's love  I feel my pulses thrill,
To mark thy spirit soar above
The cloud of human ill;
My heart hath leaped to answer thine,
And echo back thy words,
As leaps the warrior's at the shine
And flash of kindred swords I
They tell me thou art rash and vain  A searcher after fame;
That thou art striving but to gain
A long-enduring name;
That thou hast nerved the Afric's hand,
And steeled the Afric's heart,
To shake aloft his vengeful brand,
And rend his chain apart.
Have I not known thee well, and read
Thy mighty purpose long,
And watched the trials which have made
Thy human spirit strong 
And shall the slanderer's demon breath
Avail with one like me,
To dim the sunshine of my faith,
And earnest trust in thee I
122 
WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.
Go on!-the dagger's point may glare
Amid thy pathway's gloomThe fate which sternly threatens there,
Is glorious martyrdom!
Then onward, with a martyr's zeal  Press on to thy rewardThe hour when man shall only kneel
Before his Father-God.
But since we have commenced quoting, we will
will give a specimen of his fierce, denunciatory style
of writing, which appeared in an editorial upon the
Union. It is also a good opportunity to show his
.eculiar position upon the slavery question:
"Tyrants! confident of its overthrow, proclaim not to your
vassals, that the American Union is an experiment of freedom,
which, if it fail, will forever demonstrate the necessity of whips
for the backs, and chains for the limbs of the people. Know
that its subversion is essential to the triumph of justice, the de
liverance of the oppressed, the vindication of the brotherhood
of the race. It was conceived in sin, and brought forth in iniquity; and its career has been marked by unparalleled hypocrisy, by high-handed tyranny, by a bold defiance of the omniscience and omnipotence of God. Freedom indignantly disowns it, and calls for its extinction; for within its borders are
three millions of slaves, whose blood constitutes its cement,
whose flesh forms a large and flourishing branch of its commerce, and who are ranked with four-footed beasts and creeping things. To secure the adoption of the constitution of the
United States, first, that the African slave-trade-till that time
123 
MODERN AGITATORS.
a feeble, isolated, colonial traffic —should, for at least twenty
years, be prosecuted as a national interest, under the American
flag, and protected by the national arm; secondly, that a slaveholding oligarchy, created by allowing three-fifths of the slaveholding population to be represented by their task-masters,
should be allowed a permanent seat in congress; thirdly, that
the slave system should be secured against internal revolt and
external invasion, by the united physical force of the country;
fourthly, that not a foot of national territory should be granted,
on which the panting fugitive from slavery might stand, and be
safe from his pursuers, thus making every citizen a slave-hunter
and slavecatcher.  To say that this'covenant with death'
shall not be annulled-that this'agreement with hell' shall
continue to stand-that this'refuge of lies' shall not-be swept
away-is to hurl defiance at the eternal throne, and to give the
lie to Him that sits thereon. It is an attempt, alike monstrous
and impracticable, to blend the light of heaven with darkness
of the bottomless pit, to unite the living with the dead, to associate the Son of God with the Prince of Evil. Accursed be
the American Union, as a stupendous, republican imposture!"
-It is not to be wondered at that such a writer
should be accused of harshness and severity. English cannot be rendered with greater force and energy than he combines it to express his views upon
this subject. But hear him criticise his critics:
"I am accused of using hard language.   I admit the charge.
I have not been able to find a soft word to describe villainy, or
to identify the perpetrator of it. The man who makes a chattel
124 
WVILLIAM. LLOYD GARRISON.
of his brother-what is he?  The man who keeps back the
hire of his laborers by fraud-what is he?  They who prohibit the circulation of the bible-what are they 2? They who
compel three millions of men and women to herd together like
brute beasts what are they 2? They who sell mothers by the
pound, and children in lots to suit purchasers-what are they 2?
I care not what terms are applied to them, provided they do
apply 2? If they are not thieves, if they are not tyrants, if they
are not men-stealers, I should like to know what is their true
character, and by what names they may be called. It is as
mild an epithet to say that a thief is a thief, as to say that a
spade is a spade. Words are but the signs of ideas.' A rose
by any other name would smell as sweet.' Language may
be misapplied, and so be absurd or unjust; as for example, to
say that an abolitionist is a fanatic, or that a slaveholder is an
honest man. But to call things by their right names is to use
neither hard nor improper language. Epithets may be rightly
applied, it is true, and yet be uttered i a hard spirit, or with
a malicious design.  What then 2?  Shall we discard all terms
which are descriptive of crime, because they are not always
used with fainmess and propriety? Hle who, when he sees oppression, cries out against it-who, when he beholds his equal
brother trodden under foot by the iron hoof of despotism,
rushes to his rescue-who, when he sees the weak overborne
by the strong, takes sides with the former, at the imminent
peril of his own safety-such a man needs no certificate to the
excellence of his temper, or the sincerity of his heart, or the
disinterestedness of his conduct. Or is the apologist of slavery,
he who can see the victim of thieves lying bleeding and help
125 
MODERN AGITATORS.
less on the cold earth, and yet turn aside, like the callous-hearted
priest and Levite, who needs absolution."
Upon the same subject he says again:
"Let us speak plain; there is more force in names
Than most men dream of; and a lie may keep
Its throne a whole age longer, if it skulk
Behind the shield of some fair-seeming name.
Let us call tyrants, tyrants, and maintain
That only freedom comes by grace of God,
And all that comes not by his grace must fall;
For men in earnest have no time to waste
In patching fig-leaves for the naked truth.
"Let us call tyrants, tyrants; not to do so is to misuse
language, to deal treacherously with freedom, to consent to the
enslavement of mankind. It is neither an amiable nor a virtuous, but a foolish and pernicious thing, not to call things by
their right names.' Woe unto them,' says one of the world's
great prophets,'that call evil good, and good evil; that put
darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for
sweet, and sweet for bitter."'
Hiis own power in stinging criticism is well displayed, and there is an expression of severe purity
and uprightness upon it. In his social relations he
is said to be an exceedingly amiable man, a kind and
loving husband and father. iHis purity of character
is irreproachable. Not a whisper was ever raised by
his worst enemy against his private character.
As an orator he does not occupy a very high posi
126 
WILLIAM LLOYD GAPRRISON.
tion. He lacks the graces of oratory-is too severe
in his style of speaking. Yet in spite of these disadvantages he often speaks with tremendous power. It
is by simple force of the ideas he utters. Hie uses
an iron logic, and his earnestness is so intense that it
arrests the attention of the hearer as effectually as
the natural graces of oratory. We think there is no
humor in his writings or speeches-he is too solemnly
in earnest for that; but as a man and companion he
by no means lacks geniality of character.
We presume that there is no living American who
is such a victim to the adverse prej udices of the people as William Lloyd Garrison, but we have faith to
believe that in the future his name will be glorious,
when those of the majority of his cotemporaries will
have been forgotten.
127 
JOHN B. GOUGH.
TiE history of the temperance reformation in the
United States is intimately associated with that of a
few prominent individuals. At an early period in
the enterprise, we shall find the account of the Washingtonian movement, in which John Hawkins appeared, heading the reform ranks, himself but just
escaped the drunkard's grave. His star was hardly
in its zenith, when a new one of greater magnitude
appeared in the eastern part of Massachusetts, the
rays of which have reached every portion of the Uni.
ted States, lit the extinguished lamp of hope in ten
thousand bosoms, and has since gone to kindle the
flames of reform in the Old World.  John B. Gough
was born in Sandgate, county of Kent, England, in
August, 1817.  His father had been a soldier in the
Peninsular war, and at the birth of this son was living upon a small pension at home. Accustomed to
the severe discipline of the army, his nature possessed
few attractions for a youth like John; yet it is interesting to trace thus early in his life the strength of
his imagination, which held him breathless by the
hour while his father was relating the story of the 
JOHN B. GOUGH.
seige of Corunna, or the burial of Sir John Moore.
His mother was a gentle, lovely woman, whose affections early twined themselves around her only son,
and whose spirit, like a guardian angel, followed himn
down through every grade of vice, and finally exerted more influence than anything else to induce
him to a life of temperance and sobriety.
The humble circumstances of his parents did not
admit of a very extensive education for their son, yet
in the school which he attended he seems to have acquired a distinction equivalent to that of a monitor.
is unusual abilities, however, manifested themselves
at a very early period, for his skill in reading attracted the attention of Wilberforce, and he received
from him a small book as a tribute to his talents.
About this time he received a wound in his head, the
effects of which he has felt through life. It was considered dangerous for weeks, but he recovered apparently, although he attributes his unfortunate relapse
at a later period to the internal injury.
At the age of twelve years, in company with a
family from his native place, he embarked for America; he describes the parting with his parents, and
especially with his mother, in a manner very affecting. So loth was she to part with him, that she followed him to the vessel, though she could ill afford
it, and finally, bathing him in tears, committed him
to God, and left him.  In the morning the vessel wa
Fig                      9
129' 
MODERN AGITATORS.
far from land, and he was left alone, to win or lose in
the game of life. After remaining eight weeks in
New York city, he started with the family for Western New York. During his stay at this place, he
became the subject of serious religious impressions,
and joined the Methodist Episcopal church. Not
thinking that he was doing well enough here, however, in two years, with the permission of his father,
he left for New York.  Hiere he apprenticed himself
to learn the book-binding business, for two and onequarter dollars per week, boarding himself. While
here he was under very good influences, and united
with the church in Allen-street. Circumstances afterward occurred, under which, he decided to leave
that place for another, in which he was more exposed
to temptation. Being still successful in saving a little, ho sent for his friends to join him, from England,
and after a time he was informed of the arrival of his
mother and sister, whom he found, and together they
engaged rooms and went to house-keeping. In the
following winter they were reduced to the lowest degree of poverty, so as to suffer for the necessaries of
life. He mentions with much gratitude the circumstances that some kind stranger gave him a threepenny loaf of bread, when in great want, and says
that he went to the neighboring country to pick up
fuel for their use, notwithstanding which they suffered severely from the cold.
130 
JOHN B. GOUGH.
In the spring of 183w, following, work improved,
and their circumstances were relieved; still they occupied but one room, close beneath a hot roof, and
their condition was deplorable. In the succeeding
hot season he lost his mother, and he gives the history of that event in the following touching language:
"And now comes one of the most terrible events of my life,
an event which almost bowed me to the dust. The summer
of 1834 was exceedingly hot; and as our room was immediately under the roof, and had but one small window in it, the
heat was almost intolerable, and my mother suffered much from
this cause. On the 8th of July, a day more than unusually
warm, she complained of debility, but as she had before suffered from weakness, I was not apprehensive of danger, and
saying I would go and bathe, asked her to provide me some
rice and milk against seven or eight o'clock, when I should return. That day my spirits were unusually exuberant. I
laughed and sung with my young companions, as if not a cloud
was to be seen in all my sky, when one was then gathering
which was shortly to burst in fatal thunder over my head.
About eight o'clock I returned home, and was going up the
steps, whistling as I went, when my sister met me at the threshold, and seizing me by the hand, exclaimed,'John, mother's
dead!' What I did, what I said, I cannot remember; but
they told me afterward, I grasped my  sister's arm, laughed
frantically in her face, and then for some minutes seemed
stunned by the dreadfuil intelligence. As soon as they permitted me, I visited our garret, now a chamber of death, and
131
, t-4 
MODERN AGITATORS.
there, on the floor, lay all that remained of her whom I had
loved so well, and who had been a friend when all others had
forsaken me. There she lay, with her face tied up with a
handkerchief:
'By foreign hands her aged eyes were closed;
By foreign hands her decent limbs composed."
"Oh, how vividly came then to my mind, as I took her cold
hand in mine and gazed earnestly in her quiet face, all her
meek, enduring love, her uncomplaining spirit, her devotedness
to her husband and children. All was now over; and yet, as
through the livelong night I sat at her side, a solitary watcher
by the dead, I felt somewhat resigned at the dispensation of
Providence, that she was taken from the'evil to come"'
The burial, too, he thus eloquently describes:
"There was no'pomp and circumstance' about that humble
funeral; but never went a mortal to the grave who had been
more tray loved, and was then more sincerely lamented, than
the silent traveler toward Potter's Field, the place of her inter.
ment. Only two lacerated and bleeding hearts mourned for
her; but as the almost unnoticed procession passed through
the streets, tears of more genuine sorrow were shed than fret
quently fall, when
'Some proud child of earth returns to dust
"We soon reached the burying-ground.  In the same cart
with my mother was another mortal whose spirit had put on
immortality.  A little child's coffin lay beside that of her who
had been a sorrowful pilgrim for many years, and both now
,! I |
132 
JOHN B. GOUGH.
were about to lie side by side in the narrow house. When
the infant's coffin was taken from the cart, my sister burst into
tears, and the driver, a rough-looking fellow, with a kindness
of manner that touched us, remarked to her,' Poor thing,'tis
better off where'tis.' I undeceived him in his idea as to this
supposed relationship of the child, and informed him that it was
not the child, but our mother for whom we mourned. My
mother's coffin was then taken out and placed in a trench, and
a little dirt was thinly sprinkled on it. So was she buried."
Nature had given to Mr. Gough a good musical
voice, and considerable mimicking powers, which his
companions now began to discover. Indeed, we may
say, that from this time onward, his course was steadily down, down to the lowest depth of degradation in
drunkenness. Habits of dissipation were steadily
growing upon him, and though he received good
wages, yet he squandered them in low company
amid scenes of bacchanalian revelry.  He now commenced performing the lower parts in comedies, at
the Franklin theater, and singing comic songs, for
which his talents fitted him admirably. About this
time his employer was burnt out in New York, and
Gough lost most of his clothes and movables.  His
employer proposed moving to Rhode Island, and invited Gough to go with him, which invitation he accepted.   Soon after the removal  he became acquainted with a company of actors from Providence,
by whose request he became one of their number.
133 
MODERN AGITATORS.
In this business his ventriloquial powers were called
into action, and for a while he gave himself up to the
stage almost entirely. His anticipations were soon
after again doomed to disappointment through a failure in his remuneration.
After wandering about some time in a wretched
condition, he obtained a situation as a comedian for
a theater in Boston. This occupation he followed
until the theater closed in 1837, when, as he says, he
"was thrown, like a foot-ball, upon the world's great
highway." Through the assistance of a kind woman
he obtained decent board, and again was furnished
employment at his old trade. All this he continued
till he was a little more than twenty years of age,
when his appearance became so shabby that his employer turned him out of work. Hearing, however,
of a situation in Newburyport, he pushed for it with
all haste, and for a time tried successfully to abstain
from liquor; but the evil demon still followed him,
and forming acquaintances with the members of an
engine company, his old habits were resumed, and
he became worse than ever. His case now seemed
utterly hopeless, and work failing, he started on a
coasting excursion in a fishing smack, when in a
storm he nearly lost his life. Preserved by a change
of weather almost miraculous, he narrowly escaped
drowning a second time, by the hoisting of a small
boat on board of the vessel, in the bottom of which
134
i 
JOHN B13. GOUGH.
he lay intoxicated. The violence with which they
hoisted one end of the boat threw him into the other,
and it being so dark that the sailors failed to observe
him, he barely saved his life by an outcry which
alarmed the seamen, and they took him on board.
By this voyage he obtained sufficient money to buy
some furniture, and he married the sister of the captain with whom he had sailed. Again he became
steady for a while, and went to churcli, and almost
began to cherish a slight hope of reform; but the
overpowering strength of that monster habit was too
much for-his resolutions, and again he went down
lower than ever. Even the young men who had
been half-decent companions in drinking, began to
be ashamed of him, and avoid his society. The oblivion which followed these reflections was that of
the wine cup. His nature, sensitive to the slightest
suspicion of ill-treatment, could not endure the coldness of those who had laughed loudest at his sport
when in better circumstances, and he sought relief
in the intoxicating bowl. Through the exertions of
a friend in Newburyport, an Englishman, he was
again partially reclaimed only to fall again, and now
his constitution began to be impaired by his debaucheries. He became so nervous that, drunk or sober,
he was unable to do the finer parts of book binding and gilding. He resorted to the most miserable
expedients to keep up an appearance of decency, but
135 
MODERN AGITATORS.
each successively was a more signal failure. His
wife now left him on a visit to his sister, and he was,
if possible, more free to carouse than ever. IHe
bought a gallon of ruin, and invited a fellow in to
help him drink it, and for three days hlie subsisted
upon rum alone, without a morsel of food.
But for thus abusing his system, retribution, though
tardy, was terrible. We have followed him from
one step to another, till now he was to encounter
that fearful malady, delirium tremens. After having
drank a great amount of liquor, his throat becoming
more parched and his tongue more dry by each application of the stimulant, a horrible feeling, hitherto
unknown to him, began to be experienced. iHe
sought relief in the use of tobacco, but not being
able to stand up to light a match, ignited it while
lying upon the bed, lit his pipe and threw the match
carelessly by. Very soon the narcotic effect of the
tobacco displayed itself, and he slept till the neighbors, alarmed by the smell and smoke, came into the
room and aroused him from a lethargy which in fifteen minutes more would have been fatal. Thus
aroused, he went out and purchased a pint of rum,
which he drank in half an hour, when he was seized
by a violent attack of the disease above alluded to.
For three days he was tortured seemingly with a
visit from all the inhabitants of the infernal regions.
Hideous faces stared from out beneath shaggy locks,
136 
JOHN B. GOUGH.
horrid phantoms floated through the air, and clutched
their bony fingers at his throat. Frightful sounds
issued from every object, and demons from Pandemonium seemed holding a horrible jubilee about their
suffering victim.
But strange as it may seem, he recovered, and tells
us that upon surveying his features, haggard and
pale, in a glass, he thought of his mother!  After
spending some time in reflection upon the prayers
and tears which she had poured forth for hilm, the instruction which she had given him, he went out and
took a glass of brandy; another and another followed
till he was again intoxicated. Yet again he found
employment as an actor, in which employment he
continued, till from debauchery he was too worthless
to be of service, when they reprimanded him so severely that he became angry, and upon the strength
of it attended to the business. Thus it continued for
a while, when he again sought his old avocation, and
managed to conceal his drunkenness sufficiently to
retain his situation. His wife becoming ill about
this time, by the advice of friends, he purchased two
quarts of rum, so as to have some in the house if
needed, and he soon found use for it: after ten days
his wife and child both died, and then he drank to
forgetfulness. At times, however, in his deepest degradation, the spirit of his mother seemed to beckon
him to reform. He thus beautifully alludes to it:
137' 
MODERN AGITATORS.
"And through the mists of memory my mother's face would
often appear, just as it was when I stood by her knee and listened to the lessons of wisdom and goodness from her loving
lips. I would see her mild, reproving face, and seem to hear
her warning voice; and surrounded by my riotous companions, at certain seasons reason would struggle for the throne
whence she had been driven, and I would, whilst enjoying the
loud plaudits of companions,
'See a hand they could not see,
Which beckoned me away."'
We have reached the lowest point in his historyindeed, he or any man could have gone no lower.
Hie was habitually intoxicated, keeping partially sober only when necessary to obtain the means for obtaining a supply of spirits.  The most wretched outcast in Boston felt above him, and his life was a burden to himself.  Had it not been for that instinctive
clinging to an existence whose terrors we know, and
the instinctive dread of future horrors we apprehend
may be worse, he would doubtless have committed
suicide. He felt, and in his bitterness exclaimed,
that "no man cared for his soul."  His prospects
were utterly ruined, his reputation gone, his wife
and child dead, and he realized that deep loneliness
which none can feel but they who have been in his
isolated position. His constitution was also greatly
impaired by abuse and by the attack of delirium.
138 
JOHN B3. GOUGH.I
His was a most wretched and hopeless case. But a
great work was yet before him-a work in which
his natural powers of mind, hitherto partially developed, should have full scope upon the work of reform
and humanity. Experience was to him a dear schoolmaster, but just the one needed to fit him for his
great life's work. In order to paint those glowing
pictures in after life so successfully as to draw the
admiration of listening thousands, he must himself
pass through the scenes which his pencil would portray. He must feel the deadly clasp of the tyrant
from whose embrace he would free others, and experience for himself the utter wretchedness of the inebriate whom he would reclaim.  To his own personal
acquaintance with these things must we trace that
startling reality which he made the soul, the life of
his pictures,'vhen a lecturer.
In the month of October, 1842, he was wandering
hopelessly through the streets of Worcester, Massachusetts, reflecting upon his deplorable condition,
when some one tapped him gently upon the shoulder,
and said in a mild voice, as he looked around, "Mr.
Gough, I believe."  "That is my name," replied he;
upon which the stranger entered into conversation
with him about his dissipated habits, and questioned
him kindly about his prospects for the future. Mr.
Gough told him his circumstances, mentioned that he
was tired of life, and cared not how soon he should
139 
MODERN AGITATORS.
die, or whether he should die drunk or sober; that
since he despaired of ever being anything to the
world, it was immaterial to him how or how soon he
left it. Then, for the first time in years, words of
true sympathy and encouragement greeted his ear,
like the offer of assistance to a drowning man.  All
the better feelings of his nature were aroused, and a
faint glimmering of light reached him. The stranger,
Mr. Joel Stratton, of Worcester, told him of the pledge,
how many had been saved by it from a doom as deep
as his, and concluded by asking him to come to the
temperance meeting at the hall the next evening, and
join the society.  Mr. Gough promised to do so, and
the stranger having left him, he went for a glass of
brandy, which he drank, and, following it by three
more, went home in a thorough state of drunkenness.
Still, when he became sober, he remembered his
promise to attend the meeting, and determined to
fulfill it; throughout the day he occasionally moistened his throat with that which would only render
it the more parched, but when evening came he was
tolerably sober. With his ragged dress covered by
an old surtout buttoned to the chin, he started for
the meeting. Seating himself with others in the
same condition, he waited till an opportunity was
given, and then for the first time related his experience as a drunkard. This was his first address, and
was probably received like that of hundreds in like
140 
JOHN B. GOUGH.
circumstances, but did not attract particular attention. Having signed the pledge with a firm resolve
to be a man again, he summoned all his energies to
the task of subduing that fierce appetite which had
hitherto known no restraint.  He went home and to
bed, but not to sleep. He was so fully conscious of
the strength of that foe against which he.was to contend, that the dread of the fearful struggle would not
allow of rest. All night he tossed in feverish excitement, and in the morning arose with a fierce fire in
his brain and torturing thirst in his throat. He rallied all the resolution he was master of behind that
pledge as the fortress of his sincerity; he knew that
while the enemy could be kept from breaking over
that, he was safe, and while that position was uncarried he felt a deep joy in the consciousness that, he was
a man, and that even he might succeed. On the following day he went to his workshop, reeling with
weakness, and there received from a temperance friend
a word of encouragement which cheered him to persevere and strengthened his hope. But the demon whose
sway he had owned so long was not thus easy to lose
his victim. As a natural effect of breaking off so
suddenly the long continued use of so great a stimulus, he was thrown into a second attack of delirium
tremens. In speaking of it afterward he thus describes it:
141 
MODERN AGITATORS.
"Fearful was that struggle.  God in his mercy forbid that
any other young man should endure but a tenth part of the
torture which racked my frame and agonized my heart. I
seemed to have a knife with a hundred blades in my hand,
every blade driven through the flesh of my hands, and all were
so inextricably bent and tangled together that I could not withdraw them for some time; and when I did, from my lacerated
fingers the bloody fibers would stretch out all quivering with
life.  A great portion of the time I spent alone; no mother's
hand was near to wipe the big drops of perspiration from my
brow; no kind voice cheered me in my solitude."
This attack lasted him a week, when he gradually
recovered, his health improved, and he began to get
about; but he was thin and pale, his features haggard
and worn, and his whole system deeply debilitated.
Yet his resolution never wavered, and the determination to conquer never faltered; he knew that, physically, the severest part of the struggle was over, and
he resolved that his mental fortitude should hold out
while life remained.
A short time after his recovery, he was invited to
speak in a small school-house, on which occasion he
delivered his first regular temperance address, fifteen
minutes or more in length.  ils circumstances being
yet much reduced, he was obliged to wear his overcoat as before, buttoned tightly to conceal his rags,
and there being a rousing fire in the room, he was
nearly roasted before he had finished. We have al
142 
JOHN B. GOUGH.
luded to the incident in order to show more fully the
unfavorable auspices under which he commenced his
career as a public speaker.
But his talent was no longer to remain buried in
the earth, for God had called him to a high and holy
work, as the champion of reform. Hiis brilliant talents as an orator began to attract attention, and at
the earnest solicitation of friends he procured permission of absence from his employers, leaving a job
partly finished, which he promised to complete in
two weeks. But he never saw the books again; he
had commenced a career which was to end only with
his life, and book-binding was quitted forever. It
was so long since he had worn a decent suit of
clothes, that his awkwardness in them shall be told
by himself:
"The pantaloons were strapped down over feet which had
long been used to freedom, and I feared to walk in my usual
manner, lest they should give at the knee. I feared, too, lest a
strap should give and make me lop-sided for life; the swarthy
cut coat was so neatly and closely fitted to the arms, and the
shoulders, and the back, that when it was on, I felt in a fix, as
well as a fit. I was fearful of anything but mincing motion,
and my arms had a cataleptic appearance. Every step I took
was a matter of anxiety, lest an unlucky rip should derange
my smartness. Verily, I felt more awkward in my new suit
than did I while roasting before the fire in my old one."
143 
MODERN AGITATORS.
ils engagements now  rapidly increased, and he
was called upon to address full houses everywhere in
that vicinity. The star of his reputation had finally
got above the clouds which obscured its rising; its
light began to be seen, and its influence to be felt,
when it was subject to a short eclipse. Upon his constitution, emerging from the debility of sickness and
prostration, five months of constant lecturing had
worn with great severity.  That pain in his head
which had returned periodically with more or less
violence since the blow received in youth, now visited him with renewed severity, causing for a time a
partial derangement. This occurred on the way to
Worcester, while under an engagement to lecture in
that vicinity. In addition to this cause was a constant hemorrhage from the stomach, with long continued nervous excitement, want of rest, and loss of
appetite. Hardly conscious of what he was doing,
instead of preparing for the evening lecture, he took
the cars for Boston. Under this irresistible impulse
he went to the theater, and then fell ir with some of
his old companions, who, noticing something out of
the way, inquired what was the matter, and invited
him to go in and get some oysters. Hie went, and
being offered a glass of brandy, without a thought or
reflection drank it off. The old appetite once aroused,
was not satisfied without two or three glasses more,
and in that state he retired to his hotel. In the
144 
JOHN B. GOUGH.
morning he took the cars for Newburyport, thence
back to Boston, and from there to Worcester, where
he had an appointment; meeting with his friends, he
frankly told them the whole; how as from a cloudless
sky the bolt had fallen, and begged their forgiveness.
It was not a time for them to give him up, and they
rallied around him with encouragement and sympathy. Instead of being discouraged, he resolved to
derive new benefit from the lesson received, and
wage the warfare with more vigor than ever. His
field of labor was now the larger towns in the New
England states, in which he labored continually for a
number of months. After this he was urged to speak
in Boston, where he drew large houses, and finally
the largest were insufficient to contain the crowds
that were entranced by his oratory.
In the autumn of 1843 he was again married, and
remained in Boston and the vicinity during that winter. In the May following, having received invitations to lecture in the largest cities of the middle and
western states, he started in company with Mr. Grant
on a tour more widely extended than he had hitherto
attempted.
He was now fairly upon the stage as a speaker, and
some account of his appearance may not be out of
place.  He is about medium height, slender, with
a look of care upon his countenance.  Time has prematurely furrowed his brow, and sorrow and hard            G                        10
145 
MODERN AGITATORS.
ships left their indelible footprints. His temperament is nervous and sanguine, and his constitution,
naturally strong, has become weakened by disease.
As he takes his seat quietly upon the platform, a
stranger would not select him for a man of great
power, yet under the arching brow, shaded by careless locks of dark, flowing hair, his fine rolling eye
cannot fail to excite a deep interest on the part of the
beholder. Not until he rises to his address is one
impressed with his wonderful talents.   He  commences deliberately and distinctly, seeming unconscious of his power, but as he becomes interested in
his subject he grows more fervent and earnest, till at
length he seems hurried only to keep pace with the
rapid evolutions of his own mind; every thought becomes a bolt from the hot furnace of his brain, and
wrought into sentences, they fall with the rapidity,
and we might almost add, with the effect of lightning. The sympathetic influence is imperceptibly
communicated to his audience, until at length they
are entirely under his control. They are interested
in whatever interests him; the man is forgotten, and
nothing is felt but the passionate impulse of an absorbing mind. You surrender your judgment, emotions, sensibilities, in fact your whole being, to a dominion which is irresistible, and would wonder, if you
could stop to wonder, at your own lack of self-government. Still ho hurries you onward; now some
146 
JOHN B. GOUGH.
scene of woe has received a coloring so vivid from
the pencil of his imagination, that before you are
aware, tears have answered to the fervor of his appeal; the next instant the whole scene is changed,
and some grotesque figure stands forth in an attitude
so ludicrous that you are convulsed with laughter.
This strength of imagery is no better exhibited than
in his comparison of the young man's danger from
intemperance to the boat rushing down the cataract
of Niagara. We give it in his own language:
"I remember riding near Niagara Falls, and I said to a gen
tleman,'What river is that, sir?''That,' he said,'is Niagara river.'' Well,' said I,' it is a beautiful stream, bright, and
fair, and glassy: how far off are the rapids?'' About a mile
or two,' was the answer.'Is it possible,' I said,'that only a
mile from us we shall find the water in such turbulence, as I
presume it must be, near the falls?''You will find it so, sir.'
And so I found it; and that first sight of the Niagara I shall
never forget. Now launch your bark on that Niagara river;
it is bright, smooth, beautiful, and glassy; there is a ripple at
the bow; the silvery lake you leave behind you adds to your
enjoyment; down the stream you glide; you have oars, sails,
and helmn prepared for every contingency, and you set out on
your pleasure excursion.,Some one comes out from the bank,
'Young men, ahoy!''What is it?''The rapids are below
you.''Ila, ha! we have heard of the rapids below us, but
we are not such fools to get into them. When we find we are
going too fast to suit our convenience, then hard up the helm,
147 
MODERN AGITATORS.
and steer to the shore; when we find we are passing a given
spot too rapidly, we will set the mast in the socket, hoist the
sail and speed to land. We are not alarmed by the danger.'
' Young men, ahoy!  The rapids are below you.'' Ha, ha!
we will laugh and quaff; all things delight us. What care we
for the future! No man ever saw it. Sufficient unto the day
is the evil thereof. We will enjoy life while we may, and
catch pleasure as it flies. This is enjoyment; it is time enough
to steer out of danger when we find we are swiftly sailing with
the current.''Young men, ahoy!'  What is it 2?''The rapids are below you!'  Now  you see the water foaming all
around; see how fast you pass the point! Now turn! pull
hard! quick, quick!  Pull for your life!  Pull till the blood
starts from your nostrils, and the veins stand like whipcords
upon the brow!  Set the mast in the socket!  Hoist the sail!
Ha, ha! it is too late!  Shrieking, cursing, howling, blaspheming, over you go! And thousands thus go over by the
power of evil habit, declaring all the while,' When I find out
that it is injuring me, then I will give it up."'
Here lies Mr. Gough's great strength; he is a perfect orator. Whatever his vivid imagination grasps,
he paints before you with startling reality; the awkward appears intensely ludicrous, the homely scares
you, the disagreeable becomes. hateful, and the ugly
fiendish. By a touch of the same magic wand, the
interesting becomes beautiful, and the lovely is transformed into the angelic. His metaphors always seem
the best adapted to the object which he would illus
148 
JONI B1. GOUGH.
trate, and when he has finished the picture, perfection asks nothing more.
Mr. Gough's oratory has none of the classical finish of Burke, the stinging satire of Pitt, or the massive grandeur of Webster; but it flows onward like
a strong mountain torrent, its surface now flashing
with the star-light of wit, then dark with the heaving
billows of passion, but always possessing a power irresistible. What early education omitted in his discipline, experience has recompensed; what he failed
to acquire in the schoolhouse of boyhood, he learned
in the school of life. To an originality of conception
in thought, nature has added the perfect ability of a
mimic, so that his scope is not limited to one subject
or to one method of treating it.  ile possesses a fine
musical voice which prepossesses one in his favor,
and relieves the monotony too frequent in a discourse;
altogether, he is one of the most fascinating speakers
we have heard.  Some parts of his orations, Ike that
above quoted, appear well in print, but usually their
beauty lies in his inimitable manner of delivery; he
never writes an oration, but having acquired an offhand habit, the natural consequence is a disconnectedness of style which would appear imperfect as a
whole; nevertheless, we find in his speeches occasional passages which cannot easily be excelled in the
language for touching pathos, or bewitching beauty.
After all, descriptions do not touch him; he must be
149 
MODERN AGITATORS.
heard and seen to be appreciated. He came in a
time when hle was most needed, when the mere ex perience of the reformed inebriate was becoming
threadbare.  His stirring appeals aroused the flag ging strength of the cause, and reanimated its adherents. Once only, the devices of fiends for a short
time prevailed, and by means of a drugged mixture
administered under the guise of friendship, he was
drawn from the path of rectitude; but being reclaimed by his friends, hlie has ever since been a more
uncompromising foe to rum drinking than ever.
When the idea of totally restraining the traffic in
intoxicating drinks was developed in the Maine law,
it found in him a firm supporter and zealous advocate. To the great work of the temperance reformation he has consecrated his life, and for its welfare
he hesitates not to sacrifice the best energies of his
being. When intemperance shows its monster head
he is reoly to strike a blow at his life. Hle has now
crossed the ocean, and is lecturing to the benighted
millions of Europe, speaking words of encouragement
to the fainting, and assisting the slave of the winecup in high places and in low to break the thralldom
which enchains him, and become free.  No one without his experience could have done his work; and
we do not hesitate to rank him among the most distinguished of American reformers.
ISO 
CHARLES G. FINNEY.
IT is astonishing how many different appearances
are given of an eminent person by different biographers. In reading Scott's or Alison's history of Napoleon, we should never dream that he was anything
but a tyrannical usurper wading through seas of
blood to the throne of the world; while in the account
of Mr. Abbott we see but a stern and resolute patriot, who from the sense of duty unwillingly offered
human sacrifices upon the altar of his country. We
have noticed the same shade of difference in various
representations of the subject of the present sketch.
One of these was a late memoir of Dr. Nettleton,
containing allusions to Mr. Finney, which we shall
refer to again, remarking here that there is perhaps
no man of the same religious eminence living, about
whom society at large has as great variety of opinions as of President Finney. Political squabbles,
though of not half the importance, have always taken
a more vital hold of society in general than theological discussions, and it is owing perhaps to the reason that the true position of this distinguished theologian is no better known to the world. Having taken some pains to investigate and ascertain the facts 
MODERN AGITATORS.
in regard to his character, we hope to give it a fail
delineation in the following paragraphs.
Charles G. Finney was born in Litchfield county,
in the year 1792. Two years after, his parents, who
were in moderate circumstances, removed to "the
Black river country," New York, with their family,
where Mr. Finney spent the years of his childhood.
His character as a leader began to develop itself in
,mouth; in sports his associates ranked him among
the foremost, yet in school he was studious, and it is
remarked by an early acquaintance, that mathemat ics was to him but a recreation. By the intense
vigor of his intellect he was enabled to master easily
what other boys did only by close application, and
he found considerable time to wield the sledge at his
father's anvil.  Here he took his first lesson in moulding the hot iron to a desired shape, and here he first
felt in his own breast the glowings of a fire which
should send forth glowing truths, to arouse men from
the slumbers of carnal security, and light the fires of
reform. Here he learned the force of one strong
arm under the control of a brave heart and clear intellect, and while his physical system was gaining
muscular strength from continual action, his mind
was as constantly acquiring an energy no less needed
to prepare him for his great work. At the age of
twenty he returned to Connecticut and commenced
teaching a day-school and giving instruction in music,
152 
CHARLES G.  INNEY.,
at which he gained considerable reputation. HIe subsequently returned to New York, and entered upon
the study of law, which he completed honorably;
was admitted to the bar, and practiced for a time in
that state. Up to this period, though not wild, he
had paid no particular personal attention to religious
subjects. IHe was what is called a strictly moral
man, but now being led to a more thoughtful contemplation of divine truth and the claims of God
upon him, he perceived that his life had been one of
rebellion and sin; and, yielding to the powerful convictions of the Divine Spirit, he submitted his whole
being to God.
Hiis plans and purposes now took a new direction,
and he consecrated himself to the ministry. After
studying theology one year at Auburn Seminary, at
the age ot thirty he commenced preaching as an
Evangelist, in the larger cities of New York. It was
during the powerful revival that attended this portion of his ministry that he and Dr. Asahel Nettleton
came somewhat into collision.
Dr. Nettleton was nine years older than Mr. Finney, and had then been laboring as an evangelist for
twenty-one years, principally in New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts. He was a preacher of altogether a different character from Mr. Finney, being mild and persuasive, and had won the affections
of the people among whom he had labored and doubts
G*
153 
MODERMM  AGITATOM.
less been exceedingly useful. He was now worn
with the excitement and toil of twenty years of ac tivity, and was unable to go on with the work. To an
impartial observer it would seem that God had raised
up Mr. Finney for the express purpose of filling his
place.  Many hearts had become hardened by long
continued repetition of the same truths in much the
same style, and there was need of a new energy and
power in the delivery of the truth, to make it effective. In saying this, we do not speak forgetfully of
other means, and especially of the Divine influence,
but God has ordered that the success of his kingdom
shall depend to a certain extent upon human instrumentalities, and in the economy of grace they are as
much needed as some inducements presented only
by a divine power." The earnest fervor of Mr. Finney, accompanying his lucid expositions of the requirements of God's law, constituted him the man
for the emergency, and he applied himself to the
work with a zeal which won for him and his adherents the name of "Western Wild Fires."  But, to
refer to the biography before spoken of, which alludes to M1r. Finney in a manner quite unkind and
uncourteous, to say the least: It characterizes the
work of grace in which Mr. Finney was engaged as
a "great religious excitement;" accuses him  of
"harshness and severity;" says that "multitudes
were reported as subjects of renewing grace," and
154 
CHARUES aG. FIN
leaves upon every mind the impression that the greatest and worst part of truth had been left unsaid; it
closes with this remark: " that very many of the reported converts were like the stony-ground hearers,
who endured only for a time, few, I presume, will at
this day be disposed to deny." Certainly, but is it
not so in every revival?  Are not "many called, but
few chosen?"  Is there any evidence that less were
savingly converted than in the corresponding labors
of Mr. Nettleton? The real cause of the difficulty is
betrayed in the following rather careless sentence:
"He (Dr. Nettleton) found that Mr. Finney was unwilling to abandon certain reasures which he had
ever regarded as exceedingly calamitous to the cause
of revivals;" and because "certain measures" did
not meet with the approbation of Dr.  Nett]eton, he
was necessitated to use his influence against the
whole work. In this opposition he was sustained by
numbers who either objected to the same measures,
or were of different theological sentiments, or, for
some reason, disliked the man.  We  will further
quote from a letter of Dr. Nettleton to a friend, writ.
ten in January, 1827. It will show what results Dr.
Nettleton found fault with, and who were really to
blame for those results.  He says, "We do not call
in question the genuineness of those revivals, or the
purity of the motives of those who have been the
moBt active in them. You doubtless are reaping and
15SS 
MODERN AGITATORS.
rejoicing in their happy fruits; but the evils to which
I allude are felt by the churches abroad, numbers of
which have gone out to catch the spirit, and have re turned, some grieved, others soured, and denouncing
ministers, colleges, theological seminaries, and have
set whole churches by the ears, and kept them in
turmoil for months together."
Is the blame, then, to be attached to the principal
preacher, or to the individuals who went home dis contented and prejudiced? When, in a multitude
of instances, the Almighty had set his seal to the
work, is it to be considered spurious because a number of individuals could not extend to it their approbation? We find it stated on reliable authority, that
"Dr. Nettleton afterward repented of his rashness,"
and although he had been aforetime very successful
in his ministry, his usefulness seemed to die when he
came out so bitterly against Mr. Finney.  Dr. Lyman Beecher wrote to Dr. Nettleton, who had been
sick about a year, that "his sickness seemed a judgment upon him for his opposition to Mr. Finney; if
we are not able to keep up with the boys, why, let
them go ahead; we will follow on and do what good
we can." In alluding to the matter, President Finney remarks, "I never had much to do with him ill
any way."
The work in which Mr. Finney was engaged progresse4 rapidly, and great success attended his ef
156 
IIARLES G.  NNEY.
forts. His knowledge of human law made him more
acute in perceiving, and ready in interpretiing the divine law. His first volume of sermons was published
in 1835, but some or all of them must have been written eight or nine years before, at the time of these
revivals. The impenitent man who could fail to be
aroused by such appeals as fill these lectures, must
have been already stupefied by that torpor which is
the precursor of eternal death. By their vigor and
thrilling earnestness, thousands who had never before given a thought to the subject of religion, were
awakened, and renouncing the service of Satan, enteredcl the christian church. There are before us no
statistics of the actual addition to the different de
nominations, but it is certain that no revivals since
the days of Edwards, were nearly as productive of
benefit to. the churches, in whose vicinity they occurred.  In company with "Father Nash," as fellowlaborer, he discharged the duties of a successful evangelist in Rochester, Utica, Rome, Auburn, Buffalo,
Troy, Boston, and New York city, and various other
places of considerable importance.
In 1832, Mr. Finney was settled over the Chathamstreet chapel, in New York city, where he discharged
the duties of the pastoral office acceptably for two
years. He then removed to the Tabernacle church,
where he ministered for three years. In 1835, when
he had been pastor of the Tabernacle one year, he
157 
}MODEN AGITATORS.
was elected professor of theology, at Oberlin, Ohio,
and after two years, finding the double duties too
much for his health, he resigned the charge of the
church in New York, and removed to Oberlin. In
1836, he published " Sermons on important subjects,"
and "Lectures to Christians," in 1837.  In the course
of the next four years he published three other works,
entitled, "Sanctification," "Revival Letters," and
"Skeletons upon the subject of Moral Government."
From the time he left New York, he was engaged in
professional duties at Oberlin, and preaching in different cities in the Union, for a number of years.  In
1846 and 1847 he issued his comprehensive work
upon Systematic Theology, in two octavo volumes.
They are the second and third of the series. In reference to the absence of the first, Professor Finney,
in his preface to the second volume, says, "I have
begun with the second volume, as this was to be on
subjects so distinct from what will appear in the first,
that this volume might as well appear first, and because it seemed especially called for just now, to meet
a demand of the church, and of my classes." Any
comment from us upon these works might appear assuming, and perhaps arrogant. The public are aware
of the nature of the subjects therein discussed, and
of his mode of discussion.  Professor Finney  has
brought to the work a maturity of mind, a strength
of purposes and a logical, acamen which is seldom
iss 
GHR5 G..
found. Professor Hodge, in his ill-fated review of
them, says: "The work is, therefore, in a high degree logical. It is as hard to read as Euclid. Nothing can be omitted; nothing passed over slightly.
*  *  *  It is like one of those spiral stair-cases,
which lead to the top of some high tower, without a
landing from the base to the summit. The author
begins with certain postulates, or what he calls firstclass truths of reason, and these he traces out with
singular clearness and accuracy to their legitimate
conclusions.  We do not see that there is a break or
defective link in the whole chain; if you grant his
premises, you have already granted his conclusions."
The article by Professor Hodge, in the Princeton
Biblical Repository for June, 1847, is the most like
an attempt to combat Mr. Finney of anything we
have seer, and this is an attempt only in appearance.
After admitting that his premises must be wrong, or
his conclusions right, one would suppose that unless
Professor Hodge could deny successfully the premises, he must feel the force of the arguments, and admit the conclusions and positions established thereby.
But no, he does nothing of the kind; seeing no place
upon all the battle-field where he could erect a battery, he retreats behind the overthrown castle of Old
School Presbyterianism, and barks at the author. It
is indeed a pastime for a curious man to compare the
work reviewed with the Review, to see how infinitely
i59, 
MODERN AGITATORS.
behind the one the other is in logic, in power of reasoning, and in intellectual perception. Professor
Finney, with surprising ease and clearness, traces out
principles which his reviewer, after close application
and untiring diligence, comprehends much as a schoolboy half perceives the beauty of an intricate geometrical demonstration. iHe is evidently just as far behind Mr. Finney in metaphysical disquisition and intellectual apprehension as the schoolboy is behind
Euclid in mathematics; and the beauty of it is, that
this truth is so obvious to every one. Professor
Hodge acknowledges in the first place that he cannot see the principles upon which the work is founded,
in fact that he does not believe there are any.  We
will quote:  "Our task would be much easier if
there were any one radical principle to which his
several axioms could be reduced;" further on in the
same page he begins to see dimly as follows:  "We
are not sure that Mr. Finney's doctrines may not be
traced to two fundamental principles;" after writing
eight pages, he is "assured that he has discovered the
two principles," the key-stones of the arch; well,
what does he in this case? Does hlie try to pull them
out, and thus overthrow the structure? No, he
stands laughing at it, and calls upon those who think
as he does to help him laugh it down. The only real
difference between them is shown by Mr. Finney, in
an "Examination of the Review of Finney's Theol
160. 
CHARLES G. FINNEY.
ogy," published in the Oberlin Quarterly for August,
1847.  We quote briefly from the "Examination:"
"Professor Hiodge asserts that'it is no less obviously
true that an inability which has its origin in sin,
which consists in what is sinful, and relates to moral
action, is perfectly consistent with continued obligation; "' "I deny that moral obligation extends to any
act or state, either of soul or body, that lies wholly
beyond both the direct and indirect control of the
will, so that it is naturally impossible for the agent to
be or do it."' In referring to Professor Hiodge, Mr.
Finney says further:  "He  represents reverence,
gratitude, and devotion as higher forms of virtue than
benevolence;" " I had shown that these were attributes of benevolence, but he regards them manifestly
as involuntary emotions. Reverence for God for or
on account of his benevolence-gratitude to God for
his benevolence-devotion to God for his benevolence, higher forms of virtue than the benevolence
which we adore!  Amazing! What will the church
and the world say, when they are told that at Princeton they hold such views of the nature of true religion?
What, good will to God and to being in general, that
efficient principle that is the foundation and source
of all doing good, one of the lowest forms of virtue!
Tell it not in Gath. * * * If, as he says, the
involuntary states of the intellect and the sensibility
are more virtuous than the benevolence in which I
11
161 
MODERN AGITATORS.
hold that all true virtue strictly consists, I am utterly mistaken. And if, on the other hand, supreme,
disinterested good will to God and man, including all
its attributes and developments, is virtue, and, strictly
speaking, the whole of virtue, then this writer is
wholly in fault, and has not the true ideal of the
christian religion before him when he writes." But
we have not room to trace the skirmish any further;
indeed, were it not the only semblance of an attack
upon his system from an opposing school, we should
only have alluded to it. Before leaving this subject,
it will be proper for us to mention a paper written by
Dr. Duffield, issued under the sanction of the Presbytery of Detroit, and "approved by the Synod of
Michigan;" it is entitled "A Warning against Error,? but should have been named conversely, an
"Error against Warning," or a bundle of errors in
despite of warning. We have read most of it, and
after reading the "Reply" to it, which Mr. Finney
published, we -do not think it worth our while to
quote a paragraph. It is a mere collection of pathos,
grandmotherly tenderness of the churches, and misapprehensions of Mr. Finney's views, with a few pioius ejaculations of horror at his awfiul impiety. We
are not sufficiently posted up in metaphysics to define
all the points of difference between Professor Finney's system and either the Old or New School; it
differs somewhat from both. In the words of Pro
162 
CHARLES G. FINNEY.
fessor Hodge, "Principles which have long been
current in this country, he has had the strength of
intellect and will to trace out to their legitimate conclusions, and has thus shown the borderers that there
is no neutral ground." The work is doubtless the
purest, clearest, and at the same time the most profound metaphysical disquisition we have ever seenperhaps which has been written. To quote a specimen from it, would be like taking a stone out of an
arch to exhibit the perfection of the structure, or like
cutting a piece from a tight rope to show you how it
looked when stretched, or like removing the central
piece of a suspension bridge to exhibit its strength;
remove a link, and the chain falls. Yet one time or
other the world will ask, "If all this be true, if Mfr.
Finney's theological positions cannot be overthrown,
why are they not adopted by the different schools of
the land? If men can fulfill the commands of God,
if he in this life expects them to do what he requires,
if he is a reasonable being, and only requires things
which it is possible for us to perform, why, O theologians, do you not tell us so?  If God only expects us
to love him with all our powers, why do you teach
that he requires in us the perfect love of Adam before the fall? Is the credit of this or that particular
school of more importance than thie word of God?
Are the traditions of men more binding than the
Divine commands?  If the Infinite is a tyrannical
163 
M:ODERN AGITATORS.
being, exacting of his creatures that which we are
incapable of performing, let us know it now, and
your further service will be dispensed with.  But if,
as some injudicious men strangely argue, the Almighty Agent who holds our life and destinies in his
hand, if he is also a God of justice, requiring only
that degree of service which we are capable of performing, why do you not preach that plainly, and
hold out to us the inducements for doing it? "
But we have tarried too long upon a subject upon
which we could not have said less without refusing
to speak, and we turn to the narrative of his life.
About four years since, Prof. Finney went to England,
and in spite of the admonitions and "warnings" of
American conservatives, was well received by the
most eminent orthodox divines in the realm. We
copy On account of his reception from the letter of
an intelligent American, in the Puritan Recorder:
"Mr. Finney's Lectures on Revivals, which as well
as one or two other volumes of his works, had been
published in England, and even translated into
Welsh, prepared the way for his visit. When Dr.
Campbell first invited him to come up to London
from some provincial town where he was laboring,
he did it as he does everything, with all his heart.
He determined to have a full and fair experiment of
the influence of such labors on such a population.
His plans were zealously seconded by the working.
164 
CHIARLES G. FINNEY.
members of the church, who distributed at the commencemnent fifty thousand copies of an address inviting attendance. These were followed by thousands
more; and huge placards were in some instances carried, according to the London fashion, on men's shoulders, through the streets. The result was a constant
and increasing attendance on the Sabbath, and generally six evenings in the week, for about nine months,
ranging from one thousand to three thousand two
hundred. There was no confusion or undue excitement. At the close of the public evening services,
all who wished to be more directly and familiarly addressed, were requested to remain; and the hundreds
who complied with this invitation, were still further.
subdivided at a later period in the evening, by an invitation to inquirers to remain. None were received to
the communion under four or five months from the time
of their hopeful conversion. In short, every precaution
was taken to prevent the evils which were well understood to have attended these " special efforts " in
America; and with such a man as Dr. Campbell at
the helm, and in such a community as that which offered itself in the busy, worldly, wicked English metropolis, there was little danger of hurtful extravagance."
In reference to Prof. Finney's theological sentiments, this correspondent remarks: " Dr. Campbell's
treatment of Mr. F. as, on the whole, sound in doc
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MODERN AGITATORS.
trine, notwithstanding many startling statements,
though disapproved by some of the Congregational
body, yet found an extensive concurrence. And it
struck me as not a little remarkable, that even his
Treatise on Theology, after a careful examination of
three days by Mr. James, of Birmingham, and Dr.
Bedford, of Worcester, was revised and edited by the
latter, and published with Dr. B.'s preface in an elegant form by Mr. Tegg, the eminent London publisher. How much the revision amounted to I know
not. The American edition would probably want
considerable revision to suit the taste of New England theologians of any school." We beg leave to
differ in this last sentiment of the writer, for had
there been any feature in Mr. Finney's theology very
objectionable to New England divines, they would4
not have invited him so earnestly to preach in their
pulpits, immediately upon his return to America.
The farewell exercises in London were of a very impressive and interesting character.   A  large teameeting was given, in which flattering testimonials
were presented to Mr. and Mrs. F., and speeches were
made in honor of their distinguished visitor. Upon
reaching New York, Mr. F. was urged to labor for a
time in the Tabernacle Church, of that city, which he
did, and many were converted and added to the church.
The Independent says of him:  "The truths upon
which he most insisted during his continuous stay of
I86 
CNARUES G. I.      N6M
ten or twelve weeks in this city, were the entire sinfulness of man, his guilt and condemnation, his pinching need of Christ, the glorious provision of grace in
the atonement, a free salvation by grace, and yet the
absolute sovereignty of God in the dispensation of
the Spirit, whose aid, by his voluntary perverseness,
the sinner has rendered indispensable to his conversion, man's accountability, and the justice of God in
the eternal condemnation of the wicked.   These
truths were often presented with great force of logic
and vividness of illustration; but if we had any criticism to offer upon Mr. Finney, it would be, that at
times he manifested a want of earnestness and concentrated power-a consequence of the prolix diffuseness of extemporaneous speaking-rather than a
dangerous excess of these qualities."
Mr. Finney then went to Hartford, at the solicitation of Drs. Hawes, Bushnell, and Mr. Patton, and
lectured with success for a number of weeks. He is
a very earnest and energetic speaker, rigidly terse as
a writer, and spends no time in tickling the ear by
flowery illustrations or splendid metaphors.
He commences a discourse by digging down and
showing the great principles which, like foundation
stones, underlie the surface; upon these, truth after
truth is piled like blocks of granite, which once placed
can never be removed; gradually, but surely, rises
the superstructure, and when completed, there is not
16T 
MODERN AGIATORS.
one piece too much, nor is anything lacking. The
argument completed, he proceeds to the application
of the subject with a force and scrutiny which can
neither be resisted or avoided. The Divine Law appears to the hearer like a great and equitable rule of
action; he wonders that he never saw it in that light
before; he sees himself a culprit, feeble and insignificant as a worm, but magnified by his offense to a
rebel against the Ruler of worlds. There appears no
way of escape; every avenue seems barred against
him; " which way he flies is hell," yet fly he must,
for behind him the Law, like a flaming sword, is darting its double edge of fire around his soul; in consternation and anguish he falls down exclaiming,
" What shall I do? " when a voice, still and small
like a zephyr, reaches him from Calvary: "Look
unto ane and live." How transcendentally beautiful
now appears the love of God; hope kindles in the
bosom of the offender, as he sees, behind the stern
glance of the magistrate, the yearning face of a Father;
with a heart overflowing with gratitude, the late rebel
embraces the atonement of Christ, and is at peace
with Ged. Something akin to this class of sensations, we have known to be produced in the minds
of three thousand at once, by his vivid manner of
presenting the truth; we could almost see them sway
to and fro, as the trees of a forest when the wind
sweeps over them in power. We intended to give a
168 
CHARLES G. FINNEY.
specimen from one of his discourses, but have not
one convenient which does justice to the man. Indeed it is not by a remarkable concentration upon a
dozen lines, that his discourses are made so effective;
it is by the wonderful energy of thought and expression of the whole. ilis sermons are almost all extemporaneous, and therefore he changes rapidly from
one point or thought to another, yet never loses sight
of the main thread of discourse. Much of his address has a personal manner, which, though perhaps
more powerful when spoken, does not appear as
smoothly when written. iHe is a remarkable man,
and one who, it would seem, would more suitably and
effectively labor as an evangelist, than as instructor
in a college. The result of his professional labors is
more felt at the west than elsewhere, because that in
the condition of their society, new measures or opinions are more readily received.  Mr. Finney has been
twice married, and both connections were happy in
their domestic results. From a family of six children, two have passed away. Three of those remaining are filling stations of eminence and usefulness at
the west, and the youngest is at home. Mr. Finney,
now sixty-two years of age, is President of the Oberlin College, Professor of Theology at the same institution, and minister of the Congregational Church in
that village.  iHis church and congregation are reported as the largest in the United States.
H
169 
JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS.
GmIDDINaGS is one of the "old guard" of liberty.
He is intimately connected with the anti-slavery reform in America-was one of its first and warmest
supporters. He has been so long known as an uncompromising opponent of Negro slavery in the United States, that he is looked upon everywhere as a
kind of moral hero, both among his friends and enemies, for the latter know full well, that it requires
courage to support unwaveringly an unpopular cause.
Not for an instant during the last fifteen years, has
Mr. Giddings faltered-not for a moment has he harbored a thought of relinquishing his opposition to
slavery.
Mr. Giddings is not a disciple of Lord Chesterfield:
he knows not how to bandy compliments-is not a
fashionable gentleman, according to the definition of
the polite world.  He is not by any means ungentlemanly or uncourteous, but he is plain, direct, and always forcible. His manner comports well with his
appearance.  He is of middle height, is thick-set,
has a corrugated forehead, piercing eyes, and a hearty
voice. Sometimes there is a half-scowl upon his face
-il 
JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS.
as if he were thinking of the many hard battles he
has fought with the enemies of human freedom.
Neither does Mr. Giddings make pretensions to profound scholarship. He does not believe in shams, and
wishes to be taken for what he is, rather than for
what he is not. He was not made in schools or colleges, but got his education by the fireside. He
knows, however, the history of American slavery as
thoroughly as any man in the country. He has by
heart every feature of the system, every movement
of its adherents, since the Union was formed. Stern
in his adherence to his principles, enduring as the
hardest granite, he is eminently fitted for his position.
In the past years no man could hold Mr. Giddings'
views upon slavery on the floor of Congress, without
being made of stern stuff. No common man could,
day after fay, and year after year, endure the studied insults of southern orators and blackguards. Mere
power of rhetoric could not make front against such
a mighty opposing force. Nothing but iron integrity could do it.  Mr. Giddings has been accused by
some of lacking geniality, but we think not by those
who know him well, and can appreciate the life he
has led, and the constant series of attacks which he
has encountered in congress for the last fifteen years
or more. A man cannot stop to measure his words
with an enemy charging upon him; he must fight as
best he can, and how. Mr. Giddings is simply a
171 
MODERN AGITATORS.
hearty, solid, stern believer in human rights, and does
not know how to grow mellow over his grog, after the
genuine congressional fashion. He is anti-slavery at
all times-out of congress as well as in it; it is his
" one idea," to make war upon the institution, and
for that reason he is accused by some of lacking geniality. He is a man of warm, generous feelings and
humor, but he is distinguished chiefly by his clear
common sense, and his dogged perseverance. Once
right, all the powers of hell cannot swerve him from
his path, and his sturdy intellect and philanthropic
heart, are safe guides for him to follow.  He is no
orator.  He  does not understand  the power of a
graceful address, or if he does, cannot speak gracefully. His manners as an orator are far from pleasing, and yet he usually commands the attention of
the house. He lacks an easy flow of language; the
words sometimes are too rapidly uttered, and again
too slowly. But there is so much force, so much
power in his thoughts, that he is sure of being listened to as eagerly as if he were an orator.
Mr. Giddings was born the 6th of October, 1795,
at Athens, New York. His ancestors emigrated from
England, in 1650, to this country.  His great grandfather left Connecticut, in 1725, for the state of New
York, and in 1806, his father emigrated to Ashtabula
county, Ohio, taking his son with him. They have
remained there ever since. Young Giddings had not
172 
JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS.
the advantage of a collegiate education, nor had he
an academical education, for he only attended school
in a common, district school-house. His father had
been cheated out of a grant of lands, and was quite
poor, and father and son worked industriously upon
the farm. His father fought in the battles of the
revolution, and his stories of the stirring times of'76
made a deep impression upon the mind of young
Giddings-an impression which will never be effaced
so long as he lives. It was by the humble fireside
of his father that he learned to love and respect human rights. He was taught that human liberty is
worth dying for-that all men possess the right to
own themselves and manage their own affairs. Rev olutionary blood runs in his veins, and the tales of
the courage of the old revolutionary heroes in the
dark days of the rebel colony, were calculated to fill
him with a desire to imitate them in their virtues.
In 1812 he took part in the war with Great Britain,
and was engaged in one or two battles with the en emy. Shortly after he returned, he was invited
to teach a district school near Ashtabula, and,
though feeling diffident about his qualifications, he
accepted the invitation, and succeeded admirably.
He became desirous for more knowledge, for a more
enlightened intellect, and for a time he put himself
under the tuition of a neighboring clergyman. He
then commenced studying law, and was admitted to
173 
MODERN AGITATORS.
the bar in 1817. He shortly after married, and settled down in his profession. In 1826 he was elected
to the legislature of Ohio, and in 1836 he was first
elected to congress, from Ashtabula district, and
he has been continued there by his constituents ever
since.
When he entered congress, the nation was engaged
in prosecuting the Florida war, the principal object
of which was to recover fugitive slaves. Seeing this,
Mfr. Giddings at once commenced a series of speeches,
to show the manner in which the north was dragged
into the support of a system odious to her alike by
nature and education. Two years after he entered
congress, the infamous gag-law was passed, whereby
all discussion of slavery on the floor of the house was
prohibited. Mr. Giddings, with a few other manly
northern men present, were determined to test the
power of the gag, and, as an experiment, discussed
questions which indirectly involved the institution
of slavery. The Florida war was before the house,
and Mr. Giddings led off in an able speech upon it.
He took the ground that slavery caused the warthat it was a shameful and slave-catching war. The
slave-holding members called him to order for breaking the rules of the house, but the speaker decided
that it was in order to discuss the causes of the war.
This decision paved the way for the repeal of the
odious restriction upon the right of speech.
174 
JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS.
In 1841, the celebrated "Creole" case was before
the country.  The slave ship "Creole," from Richmond, was, while at sea, taken possession of by the
slaves on board, who guided it to British soil, where,
by the laws of Great Britain, they were free. Our
government, through the secretary of state, Daniel
Webster, demanded pay for the slaves. Mr. Giddings felt outraged that the general government
should in so offensive a manner involve the whole
country in a sectional institution. He therefore drew
up a set of resolutions denying the power of the president to make such demands in behalf of the people
of this country, claiming that a majority of the citizens of the Union did not recognize the right of property in man. These resolutions were introduced into
congress by him. A bomb-shell thrown among them
could not have created a greater excitement or confusion. A scene ensued which beggars description.
The "chivalry" of the south were ready to devour
him with their poisonous fangs. He was publicly
censured by congress, and he immediately resigned
his seat and went home. His constituents told him
to return, and to reassert the views embodied in his
resolutions. They knew they were correct-that the
federal government had no right to take under its
protection the institution of slavery.  Hle went back
to his seat, and courageously reasserted his convic tions upon the subject.  The defenders of the "pecu
175 
MODERN AGITATORS.
liar institution" thought it was not wise to attempt
to censure him again, and now there is scarcely a
man in the whole north but will agree that they
were not only correct, but that it was proper to present them to congress at that time. On the question
of the right of petition Mr. Giddings fought bravely
and nobly, and lived to see the right not only asserted
but maintained.  Throughout his whole career he
has been most bitterly assailed by southern members.
We give a specimen from his speech on the annexation of Texas:
"Mr. Payne, of Alabama, interrupting Mr. Giddings, re quested permission to propound a question.
"Mr. Giddings.  An hour is a short time to make a speech;
but, if the gentleman will occupy but a moment, he may pro
pound his question.
"Mr. Payne desired the reporters to note what he said;
and stated that about two years since, a man by the name of
Torrey, a negro-stealer, brought a wagon and team to this district. While stealing some negroes they were arrested, and
Torrey made his escape. Subsequently it was said, that a
member on this floor claimed the wagon and team; and he
now asked the gentleman from Ohio (Mr. Giddings) what interest he had in the property?
"Mr. Giddings.  I am not at liberty to receive anything uttered on this floor as an insult. Indeed, nothing coming from
a certain quarter can insult me.
"Mr. Payne.  I call upon the gentleman from Ohio to an
176 
JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS.
swer my question; and if he does not, a committee ought to
be appointed to inquire into the fact. (Cries of order, order.)
"Mr. Giddings.  I have witnessed too many of these sudden
outbursts of passion to be very seriously alarmed at them.
"Mr. Payne. A man that will deceive his own party, cannot be ashamed at anything. (Cries of order, order, all over
the hall.)
"Mr. Giddings.  These little innocent outpourings of the
heart are perfectly harmless even from an overseer, when de
prived of his whip.  You may in such case look him in the 
face with safety. To you, Mr. Chairman, and to the members
generally, whom I respect, I will say, this is the first intimation that I have ever had, that any member was suspected of
being connected with the transaction alluded to."
This is a faint specimen of the thousand insults
which have been heaped upon Mr. Giddings during
his congressional career, until at last he has become
so hardened against them, they excite little feeling in
him, and he can laugh a blackguard coolly in the
face.
One of the most eloquent speeches ever delivered
by Mr. Giddings in congress was upon the Dayton
and Sayers case. Some seventy or eighty slaves attempted to escape from the District of Columbia, in
the schooner Pearl. The captain and mate were
thrown into prison. Mr. Giddings visited them the
day after their arrest, but his life was threatened un
177 
MODEEN AGITrrATORS.
less he would leave, which he refused to do. He
made the following statement at the time:
"I, Joshua R. Giddings, a member of the house of representatives, state: That, during the forenoon of yesterday, I
visited the jail of this district. I was not acquainted with the
keeper, and when I arrived I announced to him my name, and
that I was a member of this body. That I further said to
him that I wished to see the persons confined there on a charge
of carying away slaves from this district. I told him that I
wished to say to them that they should have the benefit of
counsel and a legal trial, and their rights should be protected,
and desired him to be present. He went with me to the passage that leads to the cells.
"While conversing with these men in the presence of the
keeper, a mob came to the iron gate at the head of the stairway, and demanded that I should leave forthwith. The keeper
inforired them that he would not open the door until they retired. I was further informed that the mob had compelled the
guard at the lower gate to deliver up the key to them; and in
this way they had opened that gate, and by that means obtained access to the passage at the head of the stairs.
"After the mob had left the stairs and entered the lower
passage, the keeper, and myself, and the Hon. E. S. Hamlin,
who had visited the jail as attorney for the prisoners with me,
came down to the lower gate, in front of which the mob was
assembled. He opened the gate and I walked out. This
morning I have been informed by a gentleman who is a
stranger to me, but who says he was present, and heard the
proposition made by individuals, to lay violent hands upon me
178 
JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS.
as I came out of the prison, one of whom, he informed me, was
a Mr. Slatter, a slave-dealer from Baltimore, whom he states
to have been active in instituting others to acts of violence."
The affair created a great deal of excitement, and
came up in congress. Certain slave-holding members, in a state of frantic passion, went so far as to
desire the hanging of Mr. Giddings and his friends,
and so expressed themselves in their speeches. They
also threatened to expel any members who should,
upon examination, be found to have anything to do
with inciting the slaves to escape.  Mr. Giddings'
speech upon the subject was unusually eloquent and
bold. We will copy a few paragraphs from it:
"Well, sir, what are the facts at which almost the whole
slave-holding fraternity of this body has been thrown into such
a ferment? Why, sir, it is said that some seventy-six men,
women, and children, living in this district, possessing the same
natural right to the enjoyment of life and liberty as gentlemen
in this hall; feeling the galling chains of slavery chafing and
festering into their flesh; themselves shut out from the social
and intellectual enjoyments for which they were designed by
their Creator; bound down in abject servitude, surrounded by
moral darkness, robbed of their labor, and shut out even from
the hope of immortality under the laws which we have enacted,
and which we still refilse to modify or repeal; inspired with
an ardent desire to enjoy the rights with which God has endowed our race, went on board a schooner lying at one of the
wharves of this city, and set sail for' a land of liberty.' When
179 
MODERN AGITATORS.
they reached the mouth of the river, adverse winds compelled
them to cast anchor. Thus detained, we may imagine the anxiety that must have filled their minds. How that slave-mother
pressed her tender babe more closely to her breast, as she sent
up to the God of the oppressed her silent supplication for deliverance from the men-stealers who were on their track; for
those bloodhounds in human shape were in hot pursuit, clothed
with the authority of the laws enacted by congress, and now
kept in force by this body, and they seized upon those wretched
fugitives, and brought them back to this city, and thrust them
into yonder prison, erected by the treasure of this nation.
There they remained until Friday, the 21st instant, when
nearly fifty of them, having been purchased by the infamous
' Hope HI. Slatter,' who headed the mob at the jail on Tuesday, were taken in daylight from the prison to the railroad
depot and from thence to Baltimore, destined for sale in the
far south, there to drag out a miserable existence upon the
cotton amd sugar plantations of that slave-consuming region.
"The scene at the depot is represented as one which would
have disgraced the city of Algiers or Tunis. Wives bidding
adieu to their husbands; mothers, in an agony of despair, unable to bid farewell to their daughters; little boys and girls
weeping amid the general distress, scarcely knowing the cause
of their grief. Sighs, and groans, and tears, and unutterable
agony characterized a scene at which the heart sickens, and
from which humanity shrinks with horror. Over such a scene
that fiend in human shape, Slatter, presided, assisted by some
three or four associates in depravity, each armed with pistols,
bowie-knife and club. Yes, sir, by virtue of our laws he held
180 
JOSHUA R. GIDDINGS.
these mothers and children, their sisters and brothers, subject
to his power, and tore them from all the ties which bind man
kind to life, and carried them south, and doomed them to cruel
and lingering deaths.             e
"Sir, do you believe that these members of our body who
stubbornly refuse to repeal those laws are less guilty in the
sight of a just and holy God than Slatter himself? We, sir,
enable him to pursue his accursed vocation, and can we be innocent of those crimes?  How  long will members of this
house continue thus to outrage humanity? How long will
the people themselves remain partakers in this enormous wickedness, by sending to this hall men who can here speak of
their association with these heaven-daring crimes in the language of ribald jesting? If other members sanction and approve such torture, far more than ordinary murder, I ujill not.
It is unbecoming a christian people; it is unsuited to the age
in which we live. Why, sir, what a spectacle do we present
to the civilized world! Yesterday we assembled with the citizens of the district, in front of this capitol, to rejoice and sing
in honor of the people of France, many of whom offered up
their lives to attain the liberty which we ourselves enjoy.
"While we were thus collected together, and singing the
soul-stirring Marseilles hymn, and shouting praises to our
brethren, who, on the other side of the Atlantic, have achieved
this freedom, and driven their monarch from his throne and
country, a different scene was witnessed on the avenue before
us, where some fifty slaves, destined for the southern market,
were marched to the railroad depot. The clanking of their
chains, their sighs and groans, mingling with our songs and
shouts of praise in favor of liberty, ascended to heaven, and en
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LMODERN AGITATORS.
tered the ear of the God of the oppressed. Yes, sir, while we
were thus professing our admiration of freedom, we who now
sit in this hall, were at that moment sustaining a slave-market
in this city, far more shocking to the feelings of humanity than
can be found in any other part of the civilized world."
Mr. Giddings has been always at his post in Washington-has always been faithful to his constituents.
Hie has at all times been ready to meet the south
upon. any subject involving the question of slavery;
he has opposed all compromises with the "institution," and though hated, yet is respected by the slaveholding members of congress.
The sternness which characterizes Mr. Giddings's
character, his persevering devotion to principle, has,
as a matter of course, made him many enemies,
north as well as south. Politicians generally hate
men of principle; political leaders, or at least corrupt
political leaders, do not like to meet with men who
cannot be threatened, or bribed, or cheated. Mr.
Giddings has too much spirit to bear a threat, too
much principle to entertain a bribe, and too much
common sense to be led astray by designing politicians.
182 
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
NoT merely as a poet, a politician, or an editor, is Mr.
Bryant distinguished. He is widely known as a philanthropist. His sympathies are always with the unfortunate; and though from his retiring disposition
he has had little to do with philanthropic organizathon, yet he deserves the esteem of all lovers of humanity for his constant, unwavering devotion to the
welfare of his race. Though editing a political journal, he has long advocated the cause of the slave with
masterly ability, and an impressive sincerity. Long
ago, when the abolitionists were subjected to the outrages of mobs, Mr. Bryant came out boldly in his journal
in condemnation of the mob-spirit, though at that
time it was popular to justify illegal attacks upon the
anti-slavery reformers. Since then he has himself become nearly anti-slavery in his feelings and principles, and in his journal has not hesitated to rebuke
his party friends, though high in office, for their zeal
in extending the institution of slavery.
Mr. Bryant was born at Cummington, Massachusetts, on the 3d of November, 1794. His father was
a physician of good education and respectable talents. 
MODERN AGITATORS.
He early saw in his boy the germ of a brilliant genius, and spared no pains in his education.  At a very
early age, the boy wrote poetry. When but thirteen
years old, he wrote two poems of considerable length,
which were published in a book form. In 1810 he
entered Williams' College, where he distinguished
himself in the languages, and in polite letters. iHe
remained there two years, when desiring to leave,
he sought and obtained an honorable dismissal. He
at once commenced the study of the law, and was
admitted to practice at the bar in Plymouth, Mass.,
in the year 1815. Hie continued to practice his profession till 1825, when he removed to New York.
Hiis famous poem, perhaps his best, "Thanatopsis,"
was written in 1821, or at least published during that
year in a volume with others. iHe was married in
1825, and one year after he assumed the proprietorship and editorship of the Yew York Evening Post,
one of the oldest and most influential democraticjournals in the country. Hie has ever since been connected with that paper, adding much to its usefulness and
popularity. Of Mr Bryant's person and manners, we
can say little, but will quote from the "Zomesof
American Au'tho,s," upon this head, premising that
" Roslyn" is his country seat, a little away from New
York:
"Mr. Bryant's habits of life have a smack of asceticism, although he is the disciple of none of the popular schools which,
184 
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
under various forms, claim to rule the present world in that
direction. Milk is more familiar to his lips than wine, yet he
does not disdain the'cheerful hour' over which moderation
presides.  He eats sparingly of animal food, but he is by no
means afraid to enjoy roast goose lest he should outrage the
manes of his ancestors, like some modern enthusiasts. He
'hears no music,' if it be fantastical, yet his ear is finely attuned
to the varied harmonies of wood  and wave.   His heqlth is
delicate, yet he is almost never ill; his life laborious, yet carefully guarded against excessive and exhausting fatigue. He is
a man of rule, but none the less tolerant of want of method
in others; strictly self-governed, but not prone to censure the
unwary or the weak-willed. In religion he is at once catholic
and devout, and to moral excellence no soul bows lower.
Placable, we can, perhaps, hardly call him, for impressions on
his mind are almost indelible; but it may with the strictest
truth be said, that it requires a great offense or a great unworthiness to mate an enemy of him, so strong is his sense of justice. Not amid the bustle and dust of the political arena, cased
in armor offensive and defensive, is a champion's more intimate
self to be estimated, but in the pavilion or the bower, where,
in robes of ease, and with all professional ferocity laid aside,
we see his natural form and complexion, and hear, in placid do.
mestic tones, the voice so lately thundering above the fight.
So we willingly follow Mr. Bryant to Roslyn; see him musing on the pretty rural bridge that spans the fish-pond; or taking the oar in his daughter's fairy boat; 01 pruning his trees;
or talking over farming matters with his neighbors; or-to
return to the spot whence we set out some time ago-sitting
calm and happy in that pleasant library, surrounded by the
185 
1MODERN AGITATORS.
friends he loves to draw around him, or listening to the prattle
of infant voices, quite as much at home there as under their
own more especial roof- his daughter's-within the same
inclosure.
"In person, Mr. Bryant is quite slender, symmetrical, and
well poised; in carriage, eminently firm and self-possessed.
He is fond of long rural walks and of gymnastic exerciseson all which his health depends. Poetical composition tries
him severely-so severely, that his efforts of that kind are necessarily rare. His are no holiday verses; and those who
urge his producing a long poem are, perhaps, proposing that he
should, in gratifying their admiration, build for himself a monument in which he would be self-enveloped. Let us rather
content ourselves with asking' a few more of the same,' especially of the later poems, in which, certainly, the poet trusts his
fellows with a nearer and more intimate view of his inner and
peculiar self, than was his wont in earlier times. Let him more
and more give human voice to woods and waters; and, in act
ing, as the accepted interpreter of nature, speak fearlessly to
the heart as well as the eye. His countrymen were never
more disposed to hear him with delight; for, since the public
demand for his poems has placed a copy in every house in the
land, the taste for them has steadily increased, and the national
pride in the writer's genius become a generous enthusiasm,
which is ready to grant him an apotheosis while he lives.':
We shall not attempt to criticise Mr. Bryant as a
poet. An anonymous critic says, and justly, we
think:
186 
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
"His versification is preeminently fine.  In rythmic melody and cadence, his lines have few equals, and no superiors.
His diction is admirable, being pure, polished, and gemmed
perpetually with picturesque and felicitously graphic epithets.
In these respects he need not shrink from competition with the
highest on the bardic roll of Anglo-Saxondom.
"As hitherto manifested, however, his poetic faculty (as I
said before) is neither very fruitful, various, nor comprehensive.
His forte would seem to be a most life-like portraiture of natural scenery, wherein is developed with impressive exactitude
the moral significance of these works of the Creative Hand.
"Of his original poems, most are of this strain.  And the
same meditative temper, which signalizes this, his favorite
class of effusions, follows him into whatever spheres else he
may occasionally enter. Witness his' Ages,' a lengthened and
beautiful resume of man's historic evolution. Note also his
'Lines to a Waterfowl,' a gem of rarest water, with a fully corresponding setting, whose final stanza utters a moral alike transcendantly beautiful and religiously sublime."
A few stanzas from some of his finest poems, it
may not be improper for us to quote-especially from
those which give evidence of his warm sympathy for
the poor and down-trodden. Of this latter class he
has written many poems which are calmly, sadly
beautiful.
One of his poems oft read and oft quoted, is
entitled
187 
MODERN AGITATORS.
THE AFRICAN CHIEF.
Chained in the market-place he stood,
A man of giant frame,
Amid the gathering multitude
That shrunk to hear his name.
All stern of look, and strong of limb,
His dark eye on the ground,
And silently they gazed on him,
As on a lion bound.
Vainly but well that chief had fought,
He was a captive now;
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not,
Was written on his brow.
The scars his dark, broad bosom wore,
Showed warrior true and brave,
A prince among his tribe before,
He could not be a slave I
Then to his conqueror he spake:  "My brother is a king;
Undo this necklace from my neck,
And take this bracelet ring.
And send me where my brother reigns,
And I will fill thy hands
With store of ivory from the plains,
And gold-dust from the sands."
" Not for thy ivory nor thy gold
Will I unbind thy chain;
That bloody hand shall never hold
The battle-spear again.
A price thy nation never gave
Shall yet be paid for thee;
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave,
In lands beyond the sea."
188 
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
Then wept the warrior chief, and bade
To shred his locks away;
And, one by one, each heavy braid
Before the victor lay.
Thick were the platted locks, and long,
And closely hidden there
Shone many a wedge of gold among
The dark and crisped hair.
"Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold,
Long kept for sorest need;
Take it-thou askest sums untold,
And say that I am freed.
Take it-my wife, the long, long day
Weeps by the cocoa tree,,
And my young children leave their play,
And ask in vain for me."
"I take thy gold-but I have made
Thy fetters fast and strong,
And ween that by the cocoa shade
. Thy wife will wait thee long."
Strong was the agony that shook
The captive's frame to hear,
And the proud meaning of his look
Was changed to mortal fear.
His heart was broken-crazed his brain
At once his eye grew wild;
He struggled fiercely with his chain,
Whispered, and wept, and smiled;
Yet wore not long those fatal bands,
And once at shut of day,
They drew him forth upon the sands,
The foul hyena's prey.
189 
MODERN AGITATORS.
This poem is one of the most beautiful and pathetic
ever written by an American bard. Its simplicity is
striking, yet it is one of its beauties. The last verse
is not often surpassed-especially this line:
" Whispered, and wept, and smiled."
In this little poem the poet preaches a more eloquent
anti-slavery sermon, than was ever delivered from the
pulpit-a more touching oration against human chattelism, than was ever pronounced from the platform.
There are so many exquisite passages in the poems
of Bryant, that in quoting them one knows not when
or where to stop. His great poems-Thanatopsis,
The Prairies, etc., etc., are so well known, that we
will not extract from them here, but will close the
sketch with one of his most finished, perfect pieces.
It is wvell known, but will bear reading again and
again.
TO A WATERFOWL.
Whither midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?
Vainly the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.
Seek'st thou the plashy brink
Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean side 
190 
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
There is a Power whose care
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,The desert and illimitable air,    Lone wandering, but not lost.
All day thy wings have fanned,
At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere,
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.
And soon that toil shall end;
Soon shall thou find a summer home, and rest,
And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,
Soon o'er thy sheltered nest.
Thou'rt gone; the abyss of heaven
Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
And shall not soon depart.
He who, from zone to zone,
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone,
Will lead my steps aright.
191 
LYMAN BEECHER, D. D.
WE believe it was Theodore Parker who said that
Dr. Beecher was "the father of more brains than any
other man in America." The saying is a just one;
and not only is Lyman Beecher the father of brains,
but he is the possessor.  If he were simply the father
of such an illustrious set of children, it would not be
out of place for us to sketch him here; but inasmuch
as he is one of the pioneers of reform in this country,
it would be improper not to say a few words about
him.
Dr; Beecher is a thoroughly original character.
He is unlike any one else, -unless it be his own children, upon whom he has impressed his own character.
IHe is one of the most popular public men in the
country, though he is one of the boldest thinkers and
most earnest actors. Hiis energy of character is
greater than that of any other living American. Hie
was born just as the fires of the revolution were
kindling, and it would seem as if the energy, patriotism, and ardor of those days were stamped at an
early age upon his character. The date of his birth
is October 12, 1775; the place, a house still standing 
LYMAN BEECHER, D. D.
on the corner of George and College streets, New
Haven.  His ancestors were godly men,  men of
strong constitutions and iron frames. His father was
a blacksmith; his mother was a woman of fine, joyous spirits, always full of hope. He was named after
his mother's family-Lyman-and was brought up
by his uncle, Lot Benton, of North Guilford, Connecticut. He was a feeble, seven months' child, his
mother dying four days after his birth. His uncle
Lot was an erratic, yet kind-hearted old man. He
one day asked Lyman if he wanted to go to College,
and upon his answering in the affirmativewithout
another word he sent him to a preparatory school,
and, when he was fitted, to college. He entered
Yale college in September, 1793, at the age of
eighteen. Many stories are told of him while in
college, illustrating his energy and eccentricity of
character.
He was first settled, we believe, in East Hampton,
L. I., where several of his children were born. He
next removed to Litchfield, Connecticut, where Mrs.
Stowe and Henry Ward Beecher were born. While
in Litchfield he wrote and preached his famous "Six
Sermons" on temperance. It required a vast deal
of genuine courage at that day to preach total abstinence from the pulpit, but having become thoroughly
convinced of his duty, the brave man did it, and left
the consequences with his Maker.
~~I    ~13
193 
MODERN AGITATORS.
From Litchfield the doctor went to an influential
Presbyterian church in Boston; soon after, he went
through with a trial for heresy, being guilty of believing in what are termed new school theological
doctrines. He next accepted the presidency of Lane
Seminary, and remained at that post, accomplishing
a vast amount of good by his example and his instructions, until 1850.   A  thousand anecdotes are
told of the good man, which exhibit his singular yet
noble character. A few of them we will quote, as
they show us the man better than mere description
can. The following illustrates his comical nature:
"One dark night, as he was driving home with his wife and
Mrs. Stowe in the carriage, the whole party were upset over
a bank about fifteen feet high. They had no sooner extricated
themselves from the wreck, than Mrs. Beecher and Mrs.
Stowe, who were unhurt, returned thanks for their providential
escape.   ISpeak for yourselves,' said the doctor, who  was
feeling his bruises,'I have got a good many hard bumps any
how."'
This one his liberality:
"One day his wife had given him firom the common purse
twenty-five or thirty dollars in bills, with particular instructions to buy a coat, of which he stood in need. He went
down to the city to make the purchase, but stopping on the
way at a meeting in behalf of foreign missions, the box was
handed round, and in went his little roll of bills. He forgot
his coat in his anxiety for the Sandwich Islanders."
194 
LYMAN BEECIIER D. D. 
The following is a college anecdote:
"One night Mr. Beecher was awakened by a sound at his
window, as itf some one were drawing a cloth through a broken
pane of glass; springing up, he dimly saw his clothes disap pearing through a broken window —a thief having taken a
fancy to them. Waiting for no ceremonies of toilet, he dashed
out through the door after him.   The rascal dropped the
clothes at once, and put himnself to his best speed. But Lyman
was not the man to be easily out-run, especially when thus
stripped to the race. After dodging a few times, and turning
several corners, the caitiff was seized and marched back by
the eager student. He ushered him into his room, compelled
him to lie down on the floor by the side of his bed, while he,
more comfortably ensconced in his bed, lay the night long
watching him;-the silence being broken  only by an occasional " Lie still, sir." In the morning the culprit was taken
before a rmaiaistrate, who was evidently a lineal descendant
of Justice Shallow.  The magistrate, after hearing the partic
ulars, asked Mr. Beecher,'whether in turning the corners he
lost sight of the man at all.' He replied, that he was out of
sight but a second, for he was close upon him.'Ah, well, if
you lost sight of him at all, you cannot swear to his identity,'
and so the man was discharged.  Mr. B. met the fellow several times afterward, but could not catch his eye."
The anecdotes which follow, have floated singly
or in pairs over the country for years. J. Ross Dix
has gathered them together in his "Pulpit Portraits,"
and they are too good to be overlooked:
195 
MODERN AGITATORS.
"In a trip along the coast of Connecticut in a small craft for
his health, being detained by baffling winds, it was in the
midst of church service, on a sabbath morning, that he landed at
a village where only the clergyman knew him.  Hils was in full
sea rigging. Hlis entrance to the audience room attracted no attention. But when, during the prayer, after sermon, he walked
up the aisle, and began to ascend the pulpit steps, all eyes were on
him. The young people tittered, and the tithing men began to
look authoritative, as if business was on hand. The officiating
clergyman, at the close of his prayer, cordially shook him by the
hand, to the growing surprise of spectators-not lessened by
the doctor's rising to make some'additional remarks.''When
I began,' we once heard the doctor say,'I could see all the
good and sober people looking rather grave at such an appearance, while all the young people winked at each other, as if
they expected some sport. But it was not long before I saw
the old folks begin to look up and smile, and the young folks
to look sober.' If any one has heard Dr. Beecher in one of
his best moods, in an extemporaneous outburst, they can well
imagine with what power an application would come from
him, and how the sudden transitions of feeling, and the strange
contrasts between his weather-beaten appearance and seaman's
garb, and his impassioned eloquence, would heighten the effeet. When he concluded, he turned to the pastor and said,
'how could you have such a grand sermon without any appli
cation?'' I wrote out the body of the sermon, meaning to
extemporize the application, but after you came in it scared it
out of my head.'
" He once received fi-om several ladies of his church a sum
196 
LYMAN BEECHER) D. D.
of money for his wife, to be used in the purchase of a carpet.
It was put into his vest pocket, and of course forgotten.
There was, about this time, an effort on foot to build an orthodox church in a neighboring village, in which the doctor took
great interest. Meeting a gentleman engaged in the enterprise, the doctor expressed a wish to give something himself.
Ransacking his pockets, he discovered this carpet money,
and expressed great surprise at its unexpected presence.
'Why-when did I get this?  I am sure I do not remember
this money! Well, it is plain Providence provided it for this
cause.' Accordingly it was given. Not many weeks after,
the lady donors called, expecting to see a new carpet on their
pastor's parlor.   Nothing was known about it by the good
wife.   The doctor was  summoned,  and  the  case stated.
'There, that was it!  I remember now.  It must  have been
the money I gave for that church.'
"When he was sixty-eight or seventy years of age, he vis.
ited a son in the interior of Indiana One of the young men
in the village kindly volunteered to go out with the doctor to
hunt. After some success, they took a little circuit each of
his own. Hearing the doctor's gun, Mr. V. made toward
him, and to his surprise, saw the doctor, boots and coat off,
about twenty feet up a tree, and making his way nimbly.
' Doctor, what are you doing?''I shot a squirrel, and he ran
into that hole, and I am determined to have him out.' It was
only on the promise of his young friend that he would go up
and eject him, that he consented to give over his perilous
climbing.
"When about seventy-five years of age, he spent a fort
197 
MODEiRN AGIrrATORS.
night in the eastern part of Maine. A party of gentlemen at
Calais, went with him upon a little expedition into the Indian
territories, spending several days there hunting and fishing.
When about to embark upon a chain of lakes in birch canoes,
the Indian guide, Etienne, rather objected to so old a man attempting the adventure, fearing that he would give out. iHe
did not know his man. The doctor rowed with the best of
the youngsters; caught more trout than all the party together,
and returned each day from the various tramps, in the lead;
eat his fish on a rock, with a sea-biscuit for a trencher, and
fingers for knives and forks: slept on the ground, upon hemlock branches under a tent, and, at length, the Indian guide
went from the extreme of depreciation to the highest expression of admiration in his power,-saying,' Ah! old man all
Indian 2'
"While residing on Long Island, in early life, he was re.
turning home just at evening from a visit to old Dr. Woolworth.  Seeing what he thought, in the dark, to be a rabbit
by the road-side, a little ahead, he reasoned with himself'They are rather tender animals-if the fellow sits still till I
come up, I think I could hit him with these books,' a goodly
bundle of which he had in his handkerchief. Hit him he surely
did; only it proved to be not a rabbit, but a skunk. The lo.
gical consequences followed, and he returned to his family in
anything but the odor of sanctity. In after life, being asked
why he did not reply to a scurrilous attack which had been
made upon him, the doctor answered,'I discharged a quarto
once at a skunk, and I then made up my mind never to try it
again.'
198 
LYMAN BEECHER, D. D.
"During the prevalence of a revival in his church in Boston,
the number of persons desiring religious conversation was so
great, sometimes amounting to several hundred, that he was
accustomed to employ younger clergymen to assist him. On
one occasion, a young Andoverian was conversing with a person, who believed herself to be converted, within the doctor's
hearing. The young man was probing the grounds of her evidence, and among other questions was overheard asking the
lady if she'thought that she was willing to be damned for the
glory of God?' Instantly starting up, the doctor said to him,
'What was that you were asking?'  I was asking her if she
would be willing to be damned for the glory of God.''Well,
sir, would you be willing?2''Yes, sir, I humbly hope I
should be.'' Well, then, sir, you ought to be damned.' And,
afterward, he took occasion to enlighten him to a better theology. His absorption in thought gave rise to absent-minded.
ness and to forgetfulness, frequently to ludicrous stories. On
several occasions he entered his neighbors' houses in Boston,
for his own, and was only awakened to the truth by the appearance of the kind mistress, who saluted him with'Good
morning, doctor; we are happy to see you here.' But, in one
case, in another mansion, where the good woman had a sweet
heart, but a sour tongue, the salutation was more piquant:'Doctor, if you can't find your own house, I wish you would
hire a man to go and show you.' Well, it is not very comfortable to have a neighbor walk into your parlor, with two or
three clergymen in train, appropriate your chairs, call for the
servants, and even stand at the foot of the stairs, calling out,
'My dear-my dear! will you come down?' Hundreds of
199
0 
- MODERN AGITATORS.
stories related of the doctor are mere fictions, or ascriptions to
him of things belonging to other men. He once said, if I
should write my own life, the first volume should contain the
things which I did not do and did not say. Nevertheless, not
a few are authentic."
Dr. Beecher,, physically, is not a large man; indeed, is rather small, but he is firmly, strongly made.
His head is large; the hair combed straight back
from his forehead, giving him a bold and fearless
look, which comports well with his character. His
eyes are light blue, his nose is prominent, mouth
large, and his complexion is florid. A stranger
would hardly think, upon seeing Dr. Beecher in the
pulpit, and not knowing him, that a great man was
before him. Says a good critic of pulpit eloquence:
"WWll do I remember the first time I heard him preach.  It
was seventeen years ago. From early childhood I had been
taught to reverence the name of the great divine and orator,
and I had long promised myself the pleasure of listening to
him. My first Sunday morning in Cincinnati found me sitting
with his congregation. The pastor was not as punctual as the
flock. Several minutes had elapsed after the regular hour for
beginning the service, when one of the doors opened, and I saw
a hale looking old gentleman enter. As he pulled off his hat,
half a dozen papers, covered with notes of sermons, fluttered
down to the floor; the hat appeared to contain a good many
more. Stooping down and picking them up deliberately, he
200
* 
LYMAN BEECHER, D. D.
came scuttling down the aisle, with a step so quick and reso.
lute, as rather to alarm certain prejudices I had on the score
of clerical solemnity.  Had I met him on a parade ground, I
should have singled him out as some general in undress, spite
of the decided stoop contracted in study; the iron-gray hair
brushed stiffly toward the back of the head; the keen, sagacious eyes, the firm, hard lines of the brown and wrinkled visage, and the passion and power latent about the mouth, with
its long and scornful under lip, bespoke a character more likely
to attack than to suffer. His manner did not change my first
impression. The ceremonies preliminary to the sermon were
dispatched in rather a summary way. A petition in the long
prayer was expressed so pithily I have never forgotten it.
"I forget now what reprehensible intrigue our rulers were
busy in at the time, but the doctor, after praying for their adopt.
tion of various useful measures, alluded to their conduct in the
following terms:'And, O0  Lord, grant we may not despise
our rulers; eand grant they may not act so, that we can't help
it.' It may be doubted whether any English bishop has ever uttered a similar prayer for king and parliament. To deliver
his sermon, the preacher stood bolt upright, stiff as a musket
At first, he twitched off and replaced his spectacles a dozen
times in as many minutes, with a nervous motion, gesturing
meanwhile with frequent pump-handle strokes of his right arm;
but as he went on, his unaffected language began to glow with
animation, his simple style became figurative and graphic, and
flashes of irony lighted up the dark groundwork of his puritani
cal reasoning. Smiles and tears chased each other over the
faces of many in the audience. His peroration was one f
I*
201 
MODERN AGITATORS.
great beauty and power. I have heard him hundreds of times
since, and he has never failed to justify his claim to the title
of'the old man eloquent.'
The "father of the Beechers" is worthy of everlasting remembrance, because of his manliness. We want
iron men in these days, more than we want splendid
preachers or passionate poets. Lyman Beecher has
infused into the ministry a new spirit of reform.
He is a living rebuke to all. ministerial cowards.
IHe has lived a life of incessant toil, yet has habituated himself to such manly recreations that he has
not been obliged to waste one half his existence in
recovering lost health. One hundred such men can
revolutionize a nation, for they impress themselves
ineffaceably upon their generation.
202  
~~~;j;~~ffl
<~> ~j<~>jii~~
~;~~~~~~ 
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
HNRY WARD BEECHER is one of the most popular
men in America, and at the same time he is one of
our most radical reformers.  He is the pulpit reformer-the man who thunders forth the most unpopular truths, every Sunday, from his pulpit, to an
audience consisting not of independent country farmers, who have little temptation to do wrong, or young
enthusiasts without prudence or position in societybut of sober, staid merchants, and their sons and
daughters.  No pulpit orator in this country is more
fearless in his utterance of truth than Mr. Beecher;
yet he is loved and admired by his church and congregation. The reason is, that while he always insists upon being independent, he is at the same time
manly and honest His denunciations of oppression
and oppressors do not proceed from a soured mind,
but from a profound sympathy with the oppressed.
It is at once evident to his hearers that he is agonizing over the wrongs of the poor; and in that frame
of mind, with his great heart, it is impossible for him
not to pour forth with astonishing power his convictions of right —his hot censures upon those who de 
MODERN AGITATORS.
liberately and purposely tread the poor beneath their
feet. To gain any just idea of Mr. Beecher's style of
eloquence he must be seen in the pulpit. The moment that he arises to commence religious service
the listener is struck with his manly, vigorous appearance. There is nothing soft or bland in his manners; he reads a hymn, or a chapter from the bible,
in a clear, firm tone of voice, or utters a prayer, not
as if he were studying to so modulate his sentences
as to create an effect, but as if he were really wrestling with his Maker. We by no means would give
the idea that he is harsh, coarse, and without a
proper manner, for such is not the case. We have
heard him pray, when every word sounded like the
moaning sob of a child upon the heart of its mother;
so too we have heard him launch his electrical eloquenceeat the heads of notorious sinners in the most
impassioned, declamatory manner. But we were
saying, when he rises in the pulpit his manlines8
strikes first upon the attention of the strange, and
next his eager, almost terrible arnestness. He
scarcely ever writes out his sermons, but comes into
the pulpit with but a few rough notes before him.
This allows him a command over his audience which
he could not hold were he confined to written sermons. He seems to be talking directly to each individual hearer. There is no escape; he bends over
the pulpit and looks you in the face; he intends that
204 
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
you shall not go home without appropriating a portion of the discourse to yourself. You come perhaps
prejudiced against him. You have heard that lie is
harsh, impudent and an unpleasant orator; but
when you have heard his opening prayer, you feel
inclined to give a candid hearing to what so sincere,
so honest a man can say. To tell the truth, your
prejudices have half melted before a word of the sermon is uttered.  He does not open abruptly, but in
a clear, straightforward manner lays the subject before his congregation. By and by he warms up with
his subject. Is it upon intemperance or slavery?
With what vigor does he expose the wickedness of
the rum-traffic, or the traffic in human flesh! How
clearly he unfolds the law of God!  How plainly exhibits the loving humanity of Christ!  He draws a
picture of the- poor hunted fugitive; he leads you
among the cotton fields of the fair, sunny south,
where the breezes are scented with orange blossoms;
and there he asks you to listen to the heart-broken
sighs of some miserable slave mother, parted from
her children. His voice and manner are not vehement, though solemnly in earnest. His manly tones
are modulated by feeling; there is a slight tremble
in his words; his eyes overrun with tears! You are
weeping yourself, for your sympathies are touched.
IHe grows more impassioned-passes from the slave
to the master!  His voice changes;  his manner
205 
MODERN AGITATORS.
grows more declamatory; his tears are dried. You
leap along with him, and as he smites the oppressor
with God's truth, you have no thought of rebuking
him for vehemence; he expresses four own thoughts
in better language than you could command. But
before he is done he smites you; he charges those
before him with indifference to this giant wrong; he
tells them that the blood of the oppressed will be
found on their skirts, for conniving at the servitude
of three millions of their fellow-men.
It is the same with every subject; he is fearless
yet tender, vehement yet gentle. He preaches few
of what are called doctrinal sermons, but he dwells
often and fully upon the wonderful love of God
upon the every day duties of men.   He never
preaches upon "the exceeding sinfulness of sin," but
addresses himself to 8inners. But though he is bold,
he rarely offends any honest inquirer after truth.
Such a mind likes his frankness-is charmed by his
boldness-is moved to tears by his pathos.
There are some who charge Mr. Beecher with uttering irreverent, witty things in the pulpit. He is sometimes almost humorous in the pulpit, but it is because
he cannot help it. It is as natural for him to speak
his thoughts in an original manner, as it is for some
clergymen to preach stupidities. Occasionally a sentence drops from his lips which starts the smile upon
the faces of his audience. He intended no wit, but
206 
9
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
the odd comparison, or the sparkling sentence bursts
forth involuntarily. To set down and snarl over this
feature of his pulpit oratory, when there are'others
so rare and attractive, is the mark of a small intellect
and a still smaller heart.
We have spoken of the contrasts presented in Mr.
Beecher's s      ermons-they are  in the  man.  His own
character is full of contrasts-his writings are the
same. No man has a more refined love of the beautiful. We cannot resist the temptation to copy one
of his most exquisite sketches of a country scene, and
when we have done that we will contrast it with one
of his vehement, magnificent outbursts against despotism and wrong. The article which we quote is
entitled- 
TROUTING.
Where shall we go? Here is the More brook, the upper
part running through bushy and wet meadows, but the lower
part flowing transparently over the gravel, through the grass
and pasture grounds near the edge of the village, where it
curves and ties itself into bow knots. It is a charming brook
in which to catch trout, when you catch them, but they are
mostly caught.
"Well, there is the Caney brook.  We  will look at that.
A man might walk through the meadows and not suspect its
existence. The grass meets over the top of its upper section
and quite hides it; and below, through that iron tinctured
marsh land, it expands only a little, growing open-hearted by
207 
MODERN AGITATORS.
degrees, across a narrow field; and then it runs for the thickets-and he who takes fish among those alders will certainly
earn them. Yet, for its length, it is not a bad brook. The
trout are not numerous, nor large, nor especially fine; but
every one you catch renews your surprise that you should
catch any in such a ribbon of a brook. Still farther north
is another stream, something larger, and much better or worse,
according to your luck. It is easy of access, and quite unpretending.  There is a bit of a pond some twenty feet in diameter, from which it flows, and in that there are five or six halfpound trout, who seem to have retired from active life, and
given themselves to meditation in its liquid convent. They
were very tempting, but quite untemptable.  Standing afar o,
we selected an irresistible fly, and with a long line we sent it
pat into the very place. It fell like a snow-flake. No trout
should have hesitated a moment. The morsel was delicious.
The nimblest of them should have flashed through the water. broken the surface, and with a graceful but decisive curve plunged
downward, carrying the insect with him. Then we should in our
turn, very cheerfully have lent him a hand, relieved him of his
prey, and admiring his beauty but pitying his untimely fate,
buried him in the basket. But he wished no translation. We
cast our fly again and again; we drew it hither and thither;
we made it skip and wriggle; we let it fall splash, like a surprised miller; and our audience calmly beheld our feats.
"Next we tried ground bait, and sent our vermicular hook
down to their very sides. With judicious gravity they parted,
and slowly sailed toward the root of an old tree on the side
of the pool. Again changing place, we will make an ambassa
0
208 
HENRY WARD BEEOHER.
dor of a grasshopper. Laying down our rod, we prepare to
catch the grasshopper; that is in itself no slight feat. The first
step you take at least forty bolt out, and tumble headlong
into the grass; some cling to the stumps, some are creeping
under the leaves, and not one seems to be in reach. You step
again; another flight takes place, and you eye them with a
fierce penetration, as if you could catch some one with your
eye.  You cannot, though.  You brush the ground with your
foot again-another hundred snap out, and tumble about in
every direction. At length you see a very nice young fellow
climbing a steeple stem. You take a good aim and grab him.
You catch the spire, but he has jumped a safe rod. Yonder is
another, creeping among some delicate ferns. With broad
palm you clutch him, and all the neighboring herbage too.
Stealthily opening your little finger, you see his leg; the next
finger reveals more of him; and opening the next you are just
beginning to take him out with the other hand, when out he
bounds andleaves you to renew your entomological pursuits.
Twice you snatch handfuls of grass, and cautiously open your
hand'to find that you have only grass. It is very vexatious.
There are thousands of them here and there, climbing and
wriggling on  that blade, leaping off from that stalk, twisting
and kicking on that vertical spider's web, jumping and boun.
cing about under your very nose, hitting you in the face, creeping on your shoes, and yet not one do you get. If any tenderhearted person ever wondered how a humane man could bring
himself to such cruelty as to impale an insect, let him hunt for
a grasshopper in a hot day among tall grass, and when at
length he secures one, the affixing him upon the hook will be
14
209 
MODERN AGITATORS.
done without a single scruple, as a mere matter of penal justice, and with judicial solemnity.
"Now then, the trout yonder.  We  swing our line to the
air, and give it a gentle cast toward the desired spot, and a
puff of south wind dexterously lodges it in the branch of the tree.
You plainly see it strike, and whirl over and over, so that no
gentle pull loosens it; you draw it a jerk up and a pull down;
you give a series of nimble twitches; you coax it in this way
and solicit it in that way in vain. Then you stop and look a
moment, first at the trout and then at your line. Was there
ever anything so vexatious 2? Would it be wrong to get angry?2 In fact, we feel very much like it. The very things
you wanted to catch, the grasshopper and the trout, you could
not; but a tree, that you did not want, you have caught fast at
the first throw. You fear that the trout will be scared. You
cautiously draw nigh and peep down. Yes, they are looking
at you, and laugohing as sure as trout ever laughed. They understandt the whole thing. With a very decisive jerk you snap
your line, regain the remnant of it, and sit down to repair it,
to put on another hook, catch another grasshopper, and move
on down stream to catch a trout.
"Meantime the sun is wheeling behind the mountain, for
you are just at the eastern ridge of Mount Washington (not
of the White Mountains, but in Massachusetts and Connecticut.) Already its broad shade begins to fall down upon the
plain. The side of the mountain is solemn and sad. Its
ridge stands sharp against a fire-bright horizon. Here and
there a tree has escaped the ax of the charcoalers, and shaggily marks the sky. Here and there through the heavens are
210 
HENY WARD BEECHER.
slowly sailing continents of magnificent fleece mountainsAlps and Andes of vapor. They, too, have their broad shadows. One you see cast upon yonder hill, far to the east, while
the base is radiant with the sun. Another cloud-shadow is
moving with stately grandeur along the valley of the Housatonic, and if you rise to a little eminence you may see the
brilliant landscape growing dull in its sudden obscuration on its
forward line, and growing suddenly bright upon its rear trace.
How majestically that shadow travels up those steep and precipitous mountain sides! how it sweeps down the gorge and
valley! how it moves along the plain!
"But now the mountain shadow is creeping down into the
meadow. It has crossed the road where your horse stands
hitched to the paling of a deserted little house. You forget
your errand. You select a dry, tufty knoll, and lying down
you gaze up into the sky.   0, those depths!  Something within
you reaches out and yearns; you have a vague sense of infinityof vastness-. of the littleness of human life, and the sweetness
and grandeur of divine life and of eternity. You people the
vast ether. You stretch away through it and find that Celestial City beyond, and therein dwell 0 how many that are
yours!  Tears come unbidden.   You begin to long for release.
You pray. Was there ever a better closet? Under the shadow
of the mountain, the heavens full of cloudy cohorts, of armies
of horsemen and chariots, your soul loosened from the narrow
judgments of human life, and touched with a full sense of inmmortality and the liberty of a spiritual state. An hour goes
past. How fuill has it been of feelings struggling to be thoughts,
and of thoughts deliquescing into feeling. Twilight is coming,!
211 
MODERN AGITATORS.
you have miles to ride home. Not a trout in your basket!
Never mind, you have fished in the heavens, and taken great
store of prey. Let them laugh at your empty basket. Take
their raillery good-naturedly; you have certainly had good
luck.
" But we have not yet gone to the brook for which we
started. That must be for another tramp. Perhaps one's experience of'fancy tackle' and of fly-fishing might not be without some profit in moral analogies: perhaps a mountain stream
and good luck in real trout may afford some easy side-thoughts
not altogether unprofitable for a summer vacation. At any
rate, it will make it plain that often the best part of trout fishing is not the fishing."
And now the same poet's hand that drew the
above-the same heart which appreciated the tender
and beautiful in nature-wrought that which follows,
And why not?  If we examine closely we shall find
that it is the true poet who thunders loudest if needs
be against tyrants; we shall see that the gentlest are
after all the strongest, the profoundest. Who is gentler than a mother?  Whose love is stronger than
hers? Who can suffer as she often does for a loved,
mayhap ruined, child?
The article from which we make extracts is one in
which Mr. Beecher defends his right in the pulit-to
speak of slavery. Hie had been attacked by the
Journal of Commerce for carrying abolitionism into
the church, and he thus replies:
i212. 
HENRY WARD BEECHER..
"It is vain to tell us that hundreds of thousands of slaves are
church members; does that save women from the lust of their
owners? does it save their children from being sold? does it
save parents from separation? In the shameless processions
every week made from the Atlantic to the Gulf, are to be
found slaves ordained to preach the gospel, members of churches,
baptized children, Sunday-school scholars carefully catechized,
full of gospel texts, fat and plump for market.  What is reli
gion worth to a slave, except as a consolation from despair,
when the hand that breaks to him the bread of communion on
Sunday takes the price of his blood and bones on Monday;
and bids him God speed on his pilgrimage from old Virginia
tobacco fields to the cotton plantations of Alabama?
" What is church fellowship, and church privilege, and church
instruction worth, if the recipient is still as much a beast, just
as little loved, just as ruthlessly desolated of his family, just as
coolly sold, as if he were without God and without hope?
What motive is there to the slave to strive for Christian graces,
when, if they make him a real man, they are threshed out of
him; or if they make him a more obedient and faithful man,
raise his market price, and only make him a more merchantsa
ble disciple of Christ? It is the religious phase of slave-life
that reveals the darkest features of that all-perverting system.
"These things are not new  nor out of the reach of the
Journal of Commerce; yet when upon this state of facts the
christianity of the north, too long, unsensitive, lifts up its voice,
the Journal of Comnmerce assails it as if it were a monster ravenirig for its prey!  Three million men, against natural law,
against every fundamental principle of our state and national
213 
MOD)ERN AGITATORS.
government, are, by law, thrown over the pale of the race and
denied to be men. This is not fit for the pulpit to mention;
it is allowed, nevertheless, to preach about China and India!
Every year thousands of children are snatched from their parents' bosoms, and remorselessly sold every whither. The pulpit is not the place for mentioning such things, though it be allowed to snatch children from the Ganges, and to mourn over
infanticide in Polynesia! Every year husbands and wives are
torn asunder; christian or no christian; and the Journal of
Commerce browbeats that pulpit that utters a word about such
politics, when it should rather be busy in expostulating with
cannibals in Malaya, or snatching devotees from  under the
wheels of Juggernaut! Every year thousands of women are
lashed for obstinate virtue; and tens of thousands robbed of
what they have never been taught to prize; and the Journal
of Commerce stands poised to cast its javelin at that meddlesome pulpit that dares to speak of such boundless licentious
ness, arifd send it to its more appropriate work of evangelizing
the courtesans of Paris, or the loose virtue of Italy; and it assures us that multitudes of clergymen are thanking it for such
a noble stand. Some of those clergymen we know. The platforms of our benevolent societies resound with their voices
urging christianity to go abroad: stimulating the church not to
leave a corner of the globe unsearched, nor an evil unredressed.
But when the speech ended, they steal in behind the Journal
of Commerce to give it thanks for its noble stand against the
right of the pulpit to say a word about home heathen-abouit
their horrible ignorance, bottomless licentiousness, and about
the mercenary inhumanity which every week is selling their
214 
NRY WAD BEECHIER.
own christian brethren, baptized as much as they, often preakers of the gospel like themselves, eating from the same table
of the Lord, praying to the same Savior, listening to snatches
of that same bible (whose letters they have never been permitted to learn) out of which these reverend endorsers of the
Journal of Commerce preach!
"It requires distance, it seems, to make a topic right for the
pulpit. Send it to Greenland, or to Nootka Sound, and you
may then practice at the far-away target. And the reason of
such discrimination seems to be, that preaching against foreign
sins does not hurt the feelings nor disturb the quiet of your
congregation; whereas, if the identical evils at home, which we
deplore upon the Indus, or along the Burampootra, are preached
about, the Journal says that it will risk the minister's place
and bread and butter.      *      *     *      *     *     *
"Our laws scarcely recognize a crime against man save murder and violence akin to it, that is not legal under slave laws.
There is not a sensual vice which we are taught to abhor,
which slavery doth not monstrously engender. There is not a
sin which religion condemns, that is not garnered and sown,
reaped and sown again, by American slavery. Among freemen the road of honor lies away from animal passion, from
sensation, toward conscience, hope, love, and spiritual faith.
But slavery sharply turns the wretch downward, and teaches
and compels him to evolve the task of life from such motives
as are common to him with the ox, the ass, and the dog. The
slave's pleasures are our appetites. His motives are, almost
of necessity, those from which religion most earnestly dehorts
us. To our children labor is honorable, because it is God's
215 
MODERN AGITATOR.
oojination of mercy; because it is an education; because it is
the road alike to health and temperate pleasure; because it is
the parent of wealth; because by it the cheerful laborer builds
his house, rears his children, gives to them the means of knowl edge. By labor the north has subdued nature, changed a parsimonious soil to fertility, built dwellings for almost her whole
population, raised the school-house, established the church, encircled the globe with her ships, and made her books and her
papers to be as blades of grass and as leaves of summer for
number. But in the South, as if unredeemed from the primal
curse, labor, a badge of shame, is the father of misery. The
slave labors, but with no cheer-it is not the road to respectability-it will honor him with no citizen's trust-it brings no
bread to his family-no grain to his garner-no leisure in after
days- no books or papers to his children. It opens no schoolhouse door, builds no church, rears for him no factory, lays no
keel, fills no bank, earns no acres. With sweat, and toil, and
ignorance, he consumes his life to pour the earnings into channels from which he does not drink-into hands that never honor
hinm, but perpetually rob, and often torment.
"This vast abomination, which seethes and smokes in our
midst, which is enervating and demoralizing the white by the
oppression of the black-in which adultery, fornication and a
concubinage so awful exist, that, in comparison with it a Turkish harem is a cradle of virgin purity-which every hour does
violence to nature, to the sentiment of justice, and to the embodiment of that sentiment into national law-a system which
makes a home impossible, and the word family as much a misnomer as it would be to a stable or a sheep-fold-which sub
216 
ERY WARD BEECHIER.
sists only by keeping the subject ignorant-which is obliged to
rank and treat the qualities which our community most esteemsindependence, ambition, self-reliance, thirst for knowledge, self-respect, as most punishable crimes in the slave-a
system whose practice requires what its laws recognize, that
man must be subverted-that the slave must be intelligent
only for work, and religious only to the extent of obediencea system which, taking away all inducements to labor natural
to man, is obliged to enforce it by suffering, or the fear of suffering; which, denying to the faculties of the soul a natural
expression, forces the miserable wretch to cunning and craft, to
lying and subterfuge-whose whole natural tendency it is to
produce labor upon compulsion and laziness by choice, lying
and thieving under a sense of justice, and truth and honesty with
a feeling of their injustice-and which, at length, as its worst and
most damnable result, so subverts that instinct of liberty which
belongs to man the world over, that the slave agrees to his
condition, grows fat, and laughs and sings, preferring slavery,
with indulgence to eat and drink enough, to liberty, if he must
pay the price of that liberty by sustained exertion;-this huge,
infernal system for the destruction of men, soul and body, must
not be mentioned in the pulpit, lest the Sabbath be desecrated
and the peace of the congregation be disturbed.
"We now re-affirm our doctrine of the pulpit.
"The gospel is a system of truths designed to be this world's
medicine. It has no intrinsic value as a system. Its end and
value are in its power to stimulate the soul, to develop its fac
ulties, to purify its emotions, to cleanse its evils, and to lead
forth the whole man into a virtuous and holy life.
J
217 
MODERN AGITATORS.
"The pulpit is therefore the dispensatory of society. The
minister, a physician. Preaching, a prescription of medicinal
truth for heart evils. There is not an evil which afflicts life,
nor a temptation proceeding from any course of life, which the
pulpit should not study. The sources of right conduct, the
hindrances, the seductions of business, the lures of pleasure,
the influences of public life, the maxims of society, its customs,
its domestic, commercial and public institutions; in short,
whatever directly or indirectly moulds the human character, is
to be studied by the minister, and its benefit or its danger made
known from the pulpit.
"In this work it is to deal first and most faithfully with the
evils of its own age, its own country, its own city, its own
congregation. Wherever men go, the pulpit is to follow them
with its true light. Whatever invades its province-that province is Right, Humanity, Purityv-be it Fashion, Commerce,
Politics, they are fearlessly to be met, grasped and measured
by the.word of God. Not only may the pulpit thus explore
Life, but it must, or else prove bankrupt to Fidelity. It is not
to follow the camp; but in spiritual things to lead the people.
It is not to wait till foes are slain before it raise its spear; nor
go asking of political cabals what it may say, nor cringe to supercilious men of commerce; but occupy itself with only this
twin thought, how best to please God and benefit man.
"Therefore, against every line of the Coward's Ethics of the
Journal of Commerce we solemnly protest, and declare a minister made to its pattern fitter to be sent to the pyramids and
tombs of Egypt, to preach to old-world mummies, than to be
a living man of God among living men, loving them but never
218 
HIIENRY WARD BEECHER.
fearing them!  God  be thanked! that in every age hitherto,
such pulpits have been found the ally of suffering virtue, the
champion of the oppressed. And if in this day, after the notable examples of heroic men in heroic ages, when life itself
often paid for fidelity, the pulpit is to be mined and sapped by
insincere friends and insidious enemies, and learn to mix the
sordid prudence of business with the sonorous and thrice heroic counsels of Christ, then, O my soul, be not thou found
conspiring with this league of iniquity! that so, when in that
august day of retribution, God shall deal punishment in flaming
measure to all hireling and coward ministers, thou shalt not
go down, under double-bolted thunders, lower than miscreant
Sodom, or thrice-polluted Gomorrah!"
Here is one more sketch in Mr. Beecher's best humorous vein, which we cannot forbear to quote:
BOOK-AUCTIONS, BOOK-STORES, BOOKS.
We have examined the catalogue of books to be sold in ten
days, beginning May 24th, by Bangs, Brothers & Co. We have
also examined the books themselves, and with sore temptation
This is no ordinary sale. It is not the refuse stock of a bankrupt bookseller; nor a private library, drugged by large infusions of unsaleable books; nor a trade sale of staple books.
It is a literary curiosity of itself. The catalogue is a book of
no mean literary interest. Mr. Welford, long familiar with
rare and curious books, spends many months in England, collecting with good taste, not merely standard editions of standard works, but literary treasures of every sort. Here are
219 
MODERN AGITATORS.
works which a man would not have an opportunity of purchasing
once in his lifetime, in the ordinary course of affairs. The
books are in excellent condition, and in fine bindings.
Nothing marks the growth of the public mind, and the increasing wealth of our times, more than the demand for books.
Within ten years the sale of common books has increased
probably two hundred per cent., and is daily increasing. But
the sale of expensive works, and library editions in costly binding, is yet more noticeable. Ten years ago, and such a display
of magnificent works as is to be found at the Appletons' would
have been a precursor of bankruptcy. There was no demand
for them. A few dozen, in one little showcase, was the prudent whole. Now, one whole side of an immense store is not
only filled with most admirably bound library-books, but from
some inexhaustible source the void continually made in the
shelves is at once re-filled. A reserve of heroic books supply
the places of those that fall. Alas! Where is human nature
so weak as in a book-store! Speak of the appetite for drink;
or a bonvivant's relish for dinner! What are these mere animal throes and ragings, to be compared with those fantasies of
taste, of imagination, of intellect, which bewilder a student, in
a great bookseller's temptation-hall?
How easily one may distinguish a genuine lover of books
from the worldly man! With what subdued and yet glowing
enthusiasm does he gaze upon the costly front of a thousand
embattled volumes! How gently he draws down the volumes, as if they were little children; how tenderly he handles
them!  He peers at the title-page, at the text, or the notes,
with the nicety of a bird examining a flower. He studies the
220 
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
binding: the leather,-Russia, English calf, rnorocco; the let
tering, the gilding, the edging, the hinge of the cover! He
opens it, and shuts it, he holds it off, and brings it nigh. It
suffuses his whole body with book magnetism.   He walks up
and down, in a maze, at the mysterious allotments of Providence that gives so much money to men that spend it upon
their appetites, and so little to men that would spend it in benevolence, or upon their refined tastes! It is astonishing, too,
how one's necessities multiply in the presence of the supply.
One never knows how many things it is impossible to do without, till he goes to Windle's or Smith's house-furnishing stores.
One is surprised to perceive, at some bazaar, or fancy and variety store, how many conveniences he needs. Hie is satisfied
that his life must have been utterly inconvenient aforetime.
And thus, too, one is inwardly convicted at Appletons, of having lived for years without books, which he is now satisfied one
cannot live without!
Theil, tod, the subtle process'y which the man satisfies himself that he can afford to buy. Talk of Wall street and financiering! No subtle manager or broker ever saw through a
maze of financial embarrassments half so quick as a poor bookbuyer sees his way clear to pay for what he must have. Why,
he will economize; he will dispense with this and that; he
will retrench here and there; he will save by various expedients hitherto untried; he will put spurs on both heels of his
industry; and then, besides all this, he will somehow get along
when  the time for payment comes!    Ah! this soMEHoW!
That word is as big as a whole world, and is stuffed with all
the vagaries and fantasies that fancy ever bred on hope. And 
MODERN AGITATORS.
yet, is there not some comfort in buying books, to be paid for?
We have heard of a sot, who wished his neck as long as the
worm of a still, that the draught might taste good so much longer. Thus, it is a prolonged excitement of purchase, if you
feel for six months in a slight doubt whether the book is hon
estly your own or not. Had you paid down, that would have
been the end of it. There would have been no affectionate and
beseeching look of your books at you, every time you saw
them, saying, as plain as a book's eyes can say, "Do not let
me be taken from you."
Moreover, buying books before you can pay for them, promotes caution. You dont feel quite at liberty to take them
home. You are married. Your wife keeps an account-book.
She knows to a penny what you can and what you cannot afford.  She has no "speculation" in her eyes.  Plain figures
make desperate work with airy "somehows."  It is a matter
of no small skill and and experience to get your books home,
and in their places undiscovered. Perhaps the blundering express brings them to the door just at evening.  "What is it,
my dear?" she says to you.  "Oh! nothing-a few books
that I cannot do without." That smile! A true housewife,
that loves her husband, can smile a whole arithmetic at him at
one look! Of course she insists, in the kindest way, in sympathizing with you in your literary acquisition. She cuts the
strings of the bundle, (and of your heart,) and out comes the
whole story. You have bought a whole set of costly English
books, full bound in calf, extra gilt, and admirably lettered.
Now, this must not happen frequently. The books must be
smuggled home. Let them be sent to some near place. Then
222 
HIENRY WARD BEECHER.
when your wife has a headache, or is out making a call, or has
lain down, run the books across the frontier and threshold, hastily undo them, stop only for one loving glance as you put
them away in the closet, or behind other books on the shelf,
or on the topmost shelf. Clear away the twine and wrappingpaper, and every suspicious circumstance.   Be very careful
not to be too kind. That often brings on detection. Only the
other day, we heard it said somewhere, "Why, how good you
have been lately. I am really afraid you have been carrying
on mischief secretly." Our heart smote us. It was a fact.
That very day we had bought a few books which "we  could
not do without."  After a while you can bring out one volume, accidentally, and leave it on the table.  "Why, my dear,
what a beautiful book!  Where did you borrow it?"  You
glance over the newspaper, with the quietest tone you can
command:  "That! oh! that is mine. I-Iave you not seen it
before 2? It has been in the house this two months;" and you
rush on with anecdote and incident, and point out the binding,
and that peculiar trick of gilding, and everything else you can
think of; but it all will not do; you cannot rub out that roguish arithmetical smile. People may talk about the equality
of the sexes! They are not equal. The silent smile of a sensible, loving woman, will vanquish ten men. Of course you
repent, and in time form a habit of repenting.
But we must not forget our errand, which was, to say that
lovers of books who desire rare and curious works, should attend the sale of MIr. Welford's books; and they should remember with gratitude that he has removed all temptation
from them to buy more than they have the money to pay for,
by making the terms cash.
223 
MODERN AGITATORS.
Of Mr. Beecher's personal history we have not
much to say. Hie was born in Litchfield, Connecti cut, was educated at Amherst college, Massachusetts,
and spent a number of years in the west before ac cepting a call to preach in Brooklyn, where he is at
the present time. When a boy, he was full of the
Beecher spirit and independence. We have heard a
friend of the family tell a story of young Hienry,
which illustrates not only the lad's full flow of animal spirits, but the subtle knowledge of human nature possessed by his father. For some cause or other,
while pursuing his studies, Hienry one day informed
his parents that he was going to sea. If he could not
obtain the consent of his parents, he gave them very
distinctly to understand that he could run away-at
any rate, he was not going to endure any opposition.
To the boy's profound surprise, his father made no
objection to his resolution, but the next day coolly
informed him, that a tailor should fit him out with a
suit of sea-clothes, and that he had written to a maritime friend to make arrangements for his reception
on board his ship. Hie wound up by saying, that
he had indulged the thought that he (Henry) would
go on successfully in his studies until prepared to
enter college, and that he would hereafter live a life
of honor and usefulness; but that he had decided
without advice to adopt a sailor's profession, and he
should not be opposed. The more the boy-student
9224 
ENPRY WARD BEECHER.
thought of the matter, the more he felt. To tell the
truth, he threatened to go to sea more to rouse the
opposition of his father, than for any other purpose;
and now, to be actually helped of-it was altogether
too bad; and lie one morning, with a burst of penitent tears, confessed that he would like to go on with
his preparation for college!
At an early age Mr. Beecher was admitted into
the ministry. He was overflowing with an enthusiastic desire to preach the truth to the people. He
was willing to go anywhere to do this, aid was ready
to undergo any suffering or privations if only he
could preach Christ. He went to the west, and carried light and peace to the lonely cabins of the farmers, and to the rough homnles of the artisans. For
years he lived among the grand prairies, and he left
his impress there in many a home and heart. But a
man of such powers of mind could not be allowed
to waste himself in any humble place. Just such a
man was needed in New York to speak the truth
into the ears of the merchants and lawyers of our
empire city. More than this: in New York (or rather
Brooklyn) a man of his talents would be sure of attracting transient residents from all parts of the
Union, and thus he would be felt all over the country.
Such is the case. Scarce a merchant goes to New
York to buy goods, whether from Maine, Wiscon8in,
~Jo~~* ~            15
225 
MODERN AGITATORS.
or Ohio, who leaves the city without hearing Henry
Ward Beecher preach.
Socially, Mr. Beecher is one of the most interesting men we ever met. He is brim full of anecdote
and humour. No man can tell a story better than
he-no man can set a circle into a roar quicker than
he, nor is he surpassed in all that is affectionate and
lovely. He has a big heart, which takes in all his
friends. HIe is half worshipped in his family, and no
one wonders at it who knows him.
In his person Mr. Beecher is not very remarkable.
He is of medium height, has a firm, independent air,
look, and gait, has dark hair, an intelligent eye, and
a hearty voice.  He dresses well-not finely.  He is
the exact opposite of a modern fop in dress and manners, for in everything he is mnany.
Mr. Fowler, the phrenologist, speaking of the
main points in his character says:
"The first is the soundness and vigor of his physical constitution. Every bodily organ is strong, and exceedingly active;
his vital organs are large, and peculiarly healthy. Only his
stomach is in the least degree affected, and that only partially
and occasionally. His lungs are very large and very fine; he,
measures under the arms more than one in thousands, and his
muscles are uncommonly dense, sprightly and vigorous. All
his motions are quick and elastic, yet peculiarly firm and strong,
tossing his body about as if it were as light as a football-a
226 
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
condition always characteristic of distinguished men; for no
man can be talented without a first-rate muscular system. He
fosters this condition by taking a great amount of physical exercise, and also of rest and recreation. When he does work,
he works with his whole might, until his energies are nearly
expended, and then gives up to sleep, relaxation, and cheerful
conversation, perhaps for days together, until having again
filled up the reservoir of life-power, he becomes capable of putting forth another vigorous effort.
*     *      *:*    *      *     *      *     *
"The second cardinal point in his character, is the unwonted
size of his benevolence. In all nay examinations of heads, I
have rarely, if ever, found it surpassed, or even equaled. It
towers above every other organ in his head, and is the great
phrenological center of his brain. While most heads rise
higher at firmness than at benevolence, his rises higher at benevolence.  It is really enormous, and forms altogether the
dominant  iotive of his life; and this constitutes the second
grand instrumentality of his success.
*   -*      *      *     *      *     *      *k    *
"Hils social affections are also large, and working in conjunction with his supreme benevolence, mutually aid and
strengthen it.  Adhesiveness is very large.  I rarely find it as
large in men.   Hence he makes friends of all, even those who
oppose him in doctrine, and is personally attached to them;
and this explains one of the instrumentalities by which he so
powerfully wins all within range of his influence. They love
the man, and therefore receive his doctrines. His philopro.
genitiveness is also large; and hence his strong and almost pa
227 
MODERN AGITATORS.
ternal interest in the success of young men just starting in life;
for this faculty, rightly directed, especially in public men, extends a helping hand not to physical children merely, but to
those who are just starting in life, whatever may be their occupation; and he also preaches most effectually upon the education of children.
"I His amativeness is fully developed, yet conjoined with his
fine-grained temperament and exalted moral affections, it values woman mainly for her moral purity, and her maternal and
other virtues, and seeks the elevation of the sex. Probably
few men living place the family relations of parents and children, husbands and wives, upon higher grounds, either practically in his family, or in his public capacity, than Henry
Ward Beecher. Hie is perfectly happy in his family, and his
family in him; and this is one cause of his peculiarly bland,
persuasive, and winning address.
"His third point of character is his force. This is consequent op his large combativeness and firmness, and his enthusiastic temperament. What he does, he does with all his
might. Hie takes hold of great things as though they could
and must be done. Every sentence is uttered with an energy
which carries it home to the innermost souls of all who hear;
yet his combativeness is never expended in personal defense,
or in opposing his enemies, but simply in pushing forward his
benevolent operations.
"His destructiveness is fair, but always subordinate.
"Acquisitiveness is almost entirely wanting. I rarely find
it as small, and, unlike too many reverends, he never thinks 
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
whether this or that sermon or doctrine will increase or diminish his salary, but simply asks whether it is TRUE.
"His firmness is extraordinary, but, acting under his higher
faculties, he never evinces obstinacy, but only determination
and perseverance in doing good. Though cautiousness renders
him careful in taking grounds, yet he is one of the most
straightforward men we meet with."
I 
AMONG the foremost of popular lecturers in Amer ica is Rev. E. IH. Chapin.  lie is eminently a social
philosopher; a man who does not look upon society
merely in the aggregate, as a molten current of flow ing humanity, but who views a collection of individ uals, each possessing a character, an ambition, an
aim exclusively his own. Hie has so accustomed
himself to study out the character, the thoughts and
feelings, the hopes and trials of each, that when the
subject presents itself to the mind of the lecturer he
has the whole picture vividly before his imagination;
he paints it from life; he has seen it, has contemplated it in every varying shade in which it could be
presented. In his convulsive grasp the miser, the
mean man, the political demagogue, and the hypocrite, exhibit to the world all their hideous deformities; while the virtues of the good, the kind, the benevolent, and the noble are beautified by his touch with
a perfection hardly native. If he turns his attention
to the city, the broad field of humnanity is all bare before his gaze. Hie walks abroad in the street; every
man he meets affords him a theme for meditation,
E. H. CHAPIN. 
E. H. CHAPIN.
and every child a text for a sermon. Not a circumstance of his life seems to have passed but has furnished him the pith of some crammed apothegm, or
the parallel for a striking simile. Not a cry of wo
has reached his ear but has found the way to his
heart, and will come forth again in pathetic beauty
to deepen some sketch of human suffering; not a
shout of laughter but will reecho in some vivid sentence to brighten the shade of our humanity. It is
this characteristic which has made Mr. Chapin emninently popular among the masses. Htis learning
might have made him a profound rhetorician; his
talent and beauty of expression a fine writer; his real
native eloquence a splendid orator; but all these
could not have made him the man that he is. Superadd to these his susceptible heart, his benevolent
spirit, his.gentle disposition, and christian refinement,
and you have Chapin.
He is presented to our notice as a writer, a speaker,
a poet-for he has written some beautiful lyrics-a
preacher, and a reformer. The last distinction might
once have been thought needless, but in the era of
Lords-many, of Spragues, of Springs, et cetera, we
think it essential.
There are few men living from whose writings
more beautiful sentences can be taken than from Mr.
Chapin's. Here is one upon the blessings of home:
231 
MODERN AGITATORS.
"Oh! mother, mother; name for the earliest relationship,
symbol of the divine tenderness; kindling a love that we never
blush to confess, and a veneration that wee cannot help rendering; how does your mystic influence, imparted from the soft
pressure and the undying smile, weave itself through all the
brightness, through all the darkness of our after life! * * *
And when on this familiar hearth our own vital lamp burns
low, and the golden bowl begins to shudder, and the silver cord
to untwine, let our last look be upon the faces that we best
love; let the gates that open into the celestial city be those
well known doors-and thus may we also die at home!'
Here also is a fine glimpse of childhood snatched
from nature; it is one of a perpetual supply of gems
that are strung upon the thread of his discourse:
"And all of us, I trust, are thankful that God has created not
merely men and women, crimped into artificial patterns, with
selfish speculation in their eyes, with sadness, and weariness,
and trouble about many things, carving the wrinkles and stealing away the bloom; but pours in upon us a fresh streamni of
being that overflows our rigid conventionalisms with the buoyancy of nature, plays into this dusty and angular life like the
jets of a fountain, like floods of sunshine, upsets our miserable
dignity, meets us with a love that contains no deceit, a frankness that rebukes our quibbling compliments, nourishes the
poetry of the soul, and perpetually descending from the threshold of the Infinite, keeps open an archway of mystery and
heaven."
232 
E. H. -CIHAPIN.
In fact, the charm of Mr. Chapin's declamation
consists mainly in the beauty and force of his expression. With some men it is the manner; with him the
matter. When he would demolish a vice or praise a
virtue he first paints the one in hideous truth, or the
other with strange beauty, until you loathe the one
or love the other. Hie does not employ his pen in
systematizing sin, and shielding the individual behind the organization, or the party, or the association
in which he acts, but brings the charge right home
to the door of every guilty man's conscience, and if
that door be not double barred from the force of
truth, will batter down the barricade and lay the load
of crime upon the hearthstone of the heart.  And
here permit a brief illustrating paragraph upon individual responsibility:
"God does not take account of parties; party names are not
known in that court of divine judgment; but your name and
mine are on the books there. If the party lies, then you are
guilty of falsehood.  If the party-as is very often the case
does  a mean thing, then you do it.  It is surely so, as
far as you are one of the party, and go with it in its action.
There is no such thing-and this is true, perhaps, in more
senses than one-there is no such thing as a party conscience.
It is individual conscience that is implicated. Party! party!
Ah, my friends, here is the influence which, it is to be feared,
balks and falsifies many of these glorious symbols. Men rally
233 
MODERN AGITATORS.
around musty epithets. They take up issues which have no
more relation to the deep, vital, throbbing interest of the time
than they have to the fashions of our grandfathers. * * *
And surely it is a case for congratulation, when some great,
exciting question breaks out and jars their conventional idols,
and so sweeps and shatters their party organization and turns
them topsy-turvy, that a man is shaken out of his harness, does
not lkow exactly what party he does belong to, and begins to
feel that he has a soul of his own."
This quotation hurries him into our view as a public speaker or lecturer, for we agree with a recent
writer that 3Ir. Chapin is one of the most splendid
of American orators. To the platform he brings a
stout body, rather heavily proportioned for his heighlt.
He is very near-sighted, to palliate which defect he
wears glasses, and keeps his eyes and face close to
his notes.   He  generally writes out his address,
though in the pulpit he occasionally extemporizes.
He is possessed of many of those qualifications which
draw full houses, and send them home well satisfied.
He is always spirited, nervous, enthusiastic, and often
rises into a vein of thrilling eloquence. To a rapid
but distinct enunciation he unites a fervor and ardor
which is sure to win the profound attention of his audience. His style of thought is quite original, his
expression terse and powerful, and as he becomes
warmed with his subject his excitement spreads as
234 
E. H. CHAPIN.
by a magic influence to the listeners. Where at first
he only caught the attention by some eccentric description of a human animal, he now rivets it by a
more gloomy picture. Where a moment since you
were only interested, you are now watching intensely
to devour his words with eager avidity as they fall.
Gradually you forget that any one is in the room but
yourself and the speaker. On he leads you and with
you every soul in his audience to feed on new fruits
of intellect, and dazzle with new diamonds from his
brilliant imagination. Scarcely are your sympathies
apoise and your eyes ready to pay the "draft on
sight," when a pungent satire brings down the house
with a tumult of applause. Then away his fancy
flies in a new direction; all the beauties of heaven
rise up in beatific vision to the enraptured gaze.
Spread out before you are fields of living green, and
streamlets from eternal mind, in every direction,
through gardens of surpassing loveliness.   From
those ever blooming flowers celestial odors are wafted
down to earth. Angelic choirs fill the great dome
of heaven with music too enchanting for mortal ears,
yet you seem to catch the faint echoes. Over all the
scene a blaze of glory falls from "Him that liveth
and sitteth upon the throne." All is still, for all are
wrapt in the magnificent dream-mantle with which
he has enveloped you; the climax is at length
235 
MODERN AGITATORS.
reached, and when in a clear, melodious voice he re
peats the chorus, " Blessing and honor and glory be
unto Him that sitteth upon the throne and to the
Lamb for ever and ever," you can hardly restrain
yourself from shouting "hallelujah,'" like a Methodist.
This strange fascination Mr. Chapin wields, alike
over young and old. Most of the popular speakers
of our day have a class which it is their peculiar
forte to please. But Mr. Chapin pleases all. The
high and low, the rich and poor, the cultivated intellect and the untutored mind of the laborer, the aristocrat and the democrat are alike charmed by the
wonderful beauty of his eloquence. Without adulatory flattery, he compliments the virtues of the generous, and, without giving offense, chastises the defects
of the parsimonious.  With a keen knife he removes a
vice ap a skillful surgeon excises a tumor, having first
made the patient see that it is absolutely necessry
for his health. If he applies an acrid irritant, you
are confident that the deep-seated disease could be
removed in no other way, and are satisfied.
As a poet, the world only regrets that he has written so little. Who has not read and admired that
sweet poem-"Oh bury me not in the deep blue
sea?."  Half of his prose is in measured periods, and
all of it tinged with the rich blush of his splendid
imagination.
236 
E. H. CHAPIN.
We were to glance at his character as a minister
of the gospel. It is well known that Mr. Chapin is
an able champion of the doctrine of universal salvation. We have neither time nor inclination to inquire
now what is the foundation of his belief. That he is
sincere in it, probably few will dispute; and it makes
him a better man and more like a christian, than
many who profess a more orthodox faith. By his own
congregation, at least, he is deemed an earnest laborer, and by others, a mistaken workman in the great
harvest. By all it is admitted that he is extensively
useful. His idea of religion is well given by himself,
in the following passage:
"It must be understood that'being religious' is not a work
apart by itself, but a spirit of faith and righteousness, flowing
out from the center of a regenerated heart, into all the employments and intercourse of the world. Not merely the
preacher in the pulpit, and the saint on his knees, may do the
work of religion, but the mechanic, who smites with the hammer and drives the wheel; the artist, seeking to realize his
pure ideal of the beautiful; the mother, in the gentle offices
of home; the statesman, in the forlorn hope of liberty and
justice; and the philosopher, whose thoughts tread reverently
among the splendid mysteries of the universe.   *  *  *   It
is needed that men should feel that every lawful pursuit is sa.
cred and not profane; that every position in life is close to the
steps of the divine tnhrone; and that the most beaten and familiar paths lie under the awful shadow of the Inlfinite; and they
237 
MODERN AGITATORS.
will go about their daily pursuits, and fill their common rela.
tionships, with hearts of worship, and pulses of unselfish love,
instead of regarding religion as an isolated peculiarity for a
corner of the closet and a fraction of the week, and leaving all
the rest of time and space an unconsecrated waste, where lawless passions travel, and selfishness pitches its tents."
We leave the diversity of theories for those who
take a deeper interest in metaphysical disquisition
than we, and turn to the contemplation of his character as a reformer. If we have rightly estimated his
talents and training, he is the man, of all others, who
would be selected to lead the sympathies of a progressive age. Hiis main efforts have been directed in
two channels: one, the relief of the poor, the degraded, and the outcast about him; the other, to the
cause of temperance generally. In pleading the cause
of "humanity in the city," no one has labored more
faithfully than Mr. Chapin. iHe seems acquainted
with every phase of their wretched life. Hie enumerates the causes of their destitution, and points them
to the remedy. Their miserable condition comes
home to his philanthropic spirit, and spurs him to
vigorous action. No matter how low-sunken may be
the victim of appetite or lust, he reaches out the helping hand, with a dollar in it, and says, " Brother, take
courage, you may ye; be a man.?" The assurance inspires the wanderer with new life, and he forgets, for
a time, that "no man cares for his soul," or his body
238 
E. HI. CIIAPIN.
either. He takes confidence, and goes on his way
rejoicing.
For the young men of New York Mr. Chapin has
always manifested a deep and lively interest.  Many
of his public lectures have been exclusively for their
benefit. The cause of temperance has ever found in
him one of its most ardent supporters. In his own
city he fought the license law with all the force he
could bring to bear upon it. Hie took the ground
that it was a legalized system of crime. Hie maintained that if any shops should be licensed, they
should be the low kennels, which could tempt only
those who were already, comparatively speaking, past
hope. He has also lectured much upon the subject
in other places, and stands among the first of speakers upon the platform of temperance.
In Mr. Chapin's sermons we find frequent allusions
to slavery, which evince hostility to the system, but he
has not made that a special branch of his labor. We
should be slow to believe that a man of his honesty
and humanity would withhold his influence from the
right side of the question.
As has been intimated, Mr. Chapin is now settled
in New York. Hie labored for a number of years in
Pichmond, Virginia, and in Boston and Charlestown,
Massachusetts.  IIe is a little more than forty years
of age, and is now hale and hearty, in the meridian
of his usefulness.
239 
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.
THE poet Whittier was born in the year 1808, in
Haverhill, Massachusetts. His horne was upon the
banks of the wild and beautiful Merrimack river.
His ancestors for a number of generations had lived
upon the same spot, and it is dear to him, not alone
for its beauty of scenery, or from the fact that it was
his birth-place, but because every nook and corner in
it, or around it, is connected with him, through his
ancestors. They were Quakers of the old George
Fox stamp; men of iron endurance, christian integrity, and sublime simplicity, and consequently suffered severely at the hands of the Puritans. The
fatherof the poet was a plain farmer, and Whittier
either worked upon his father's farm, or attended a
district school until he was eighteen years old. He
then devoted a year to study in a Latin school, and
this, we believe, comprises what is popularly called
his education. He was a home-student, however,
and probably at twenty possessed a better disciplined
mind than one-half of the graduates of our colleges,
and his store of valuable knowledge was by no means
small. 
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
In 1828 Mr. Whittier went to Boston to undertake
the editorship of "The American  Xanufacturer," a
journal principally devoted to the support of a protective tariff. At this time, and for some time after,
he was an ardent admirer of Hienry Clay and his political views. Before assuming the editorship of the
"Manufacturer," he had contributed articles to journals published near his early home, and had now a
favorable reputation as a writer, of both prose and
poetry, in that vicinity. i He conducted the ".Manufactu,rer " with remarkable ability for one so young
and inexperienced, but he shortly gave it up. In
1830 he went to the city of Hartford to edit the
"clew Eigland Weekly Review," where he remained
for two years. Hie exhibited marked talents in his
management of the Review.  A portion of the time
he was warmly engaged in politics, and a part was
devoted to literature. About this time he published
his "Legends of New England," and wrote a memoir of his friend Brainard, the Connecticut poet.
While he was connected with the Review, he contributed to it several poems of great beauty, which
attracted attention throughout the country.  In 1831
hie left the Review. Hiis nature was too gentle, too
refined and sensitive for the heartless strife of journalism. lie could not feel at ease tied to an editor's
chair, compelled to write a great deal which was
distasteful to him, and to read everything whether
K                        16
241 
MODERN AGITATORS.
good or bad, issuing from the whole press of the
country. Besides, his true, poet's heart sighed for the
still and beautiful country. And so he went back
to the banks of the Merrimack, and rested beneath
the same trees which spread over him their cool
shade when he was a boy. For five or six years he
engaged in agricultural pursuits in Haverhill. In
1835, he was elected to the state legislature; in 1836,
ditto, and in 1837, he declined a reelection.
At an early period Mr. Whittier consecrated himself to the cause of freedom, and through the dark
years of the anti-slavery agitation, when mob-law
was triumphant even in New England, he sustained
the courage of the "despised few," by his passionate
songs of liberty.  The fiery eloquence of his numbers
roused their spirits to a degree of fearlessness which
overlooked all personal dangers, transformed them
into men willing, if it were necessary, to wear the
crown of martyrdom. In 1836 he published his celebrated poem "Mogg Megone," and the same year he
was elected one of the secretaries of the American
Anti-slavery Society.  Still later he separated from
the Garrison party, and became an active member
of the political anti-slavery organization known as
the Liberty party. He at present acts with the free
democratic party. It is unnecessary for us to record
his literary or political history for the last few years,
for it is well known to all intelligent persons. As
242 
JOHN G. WlrHITTER.
corresponding editor of the Yational Era, he has
written some of the best of his prose and poetic articles.  He resides with his sister-a lady of uncommon talents-and mother in Amesbury, Massachusetts, upon a small farm, to which, we believe, he
devotes a portion of his time, the rest being occupied
with literary and plilanthropical pursuits. The personal appearance of Mr. Whittier is striking. He is
tall and slender, with a classical head, delicate features, eyes of fiery black, and a quick, nervous manner. A smile generally rests upon his countenance,
though his nervous organization is so exquisitely sensitive that he is often startled from his equilibrium
in his contact with the world.  He is exceedingly
bashful in general society, and is not fond of it,
though he is ardently attached to the "select few,"
who form his favorite circle of friends.
In our opinion, Mr. Whittier is surpassed in poetical genius by no living American.  It is almost impossible, however, to compare him with many of our
poets. Hie occupies a distinct position as a poet.
He is the poet of freedom, and as such will go down
to future generations gloriously. The free American
of the future can never forget the poet who consecrated his lyre to the panting, discouraged friends of
human liberty, when their cause was at its lowest ebb.
In Whittier, it seems as if we revived the old race
243 
MODERN AGITATORS.
of poets, who sang their spirited songs in defense of
their country's rights, and who were ready to use
harp or sword, as the occasion demanded. We know
that his lightning-tongued stanzas are familiar to all,
but in this sketch we must repeat two or three as
specimens of his style, or, in truth, his different styles.
To us, one of his loftiest, grandest poems is, that written on the adoption of Pinckney's resolutions in the
house of representatives, and the passage of Calhoun's
"bill of abominations," in the senate. Some of the
stanzas for strength and impassioned beauty are unsurpassed. They stir a man's blood like a trumpetcall to battle. We quote the poem entire:
"Now, by our fathers' ashesl where's the spirit
Of the true hearted and the unshackled gone 
Sons of old freemen, do we but inherit
Their names alone 
"Is the old Pilgrim spirit quenched within us 
Stoops the proud manhood of our souls so low,
That mammon's lure or party's will can win us
To silence now I
"No I when our land to ruin's brink is verging,
In God's name let us speak while there is time I
Now, when the padlock for our lips is forging,
Silence is crime I
"What I shall we henceforth humbly ask as favors
* Rights all our own? In madness shall we barter
For treacherous peace the freedom nature gave us,
God and our charter?
244 
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
"Here shall the statesman seek the free to fetter I
Here lynch law light its lurid fires on high?
And, in the church, their proud and skilled abettor,
Make truth a lie I
"Torture the pages of the hallowed bible,
To sanction crime, and robbery, and blood?
And, in oppression's hateful service, libel
Both man and God 
"Shall our New England stand erect no longer,
But stoop in chains upon her downward way,
Thicker to gather on her limbs and stronger,
Day after day?
"Oh, no; methinks from all her wild, green mountains From valleys where her slumbering fathers lie,
From her blue rivers, and her welling fountains,
And clear, cold sky
"From her rough coast, and isles, which hungry ocean
Gnaws with his surges-from the fisher's skiff,
With white sail swaying to the billows' motion,
Round rock and cliff
"From the free fireside of her unbought farmer From her free laborer at his loom and wheel From the brown smith-shop, where, beneath the hammer,
Rings the red steel
"From each and all, if God hath not forsaken
Our land, and left us to an evil choice,
Loud as the summer thunderbolt shall waken
A people's voice!
"Startling and stern, the northern winds shall bear it
Over Potomac's to St. Mary's wave;
And buried freedom shall awake to hear it,
Within her grave.
245 
MODERN AGITATORS.
"Oh, let that voice go forth! The bondman sighing
By Santee's wave, in Mississippi's cane,
Shall feel the hope within his bosom dying,
e.~~~ ~              Revive again.
"Let it go forth! The millions who are gazing
Sadly upon us from afar, shall smile,
And unto God devout thanksgiving raising,
Bless us the while.
"Oh, for your ancient freedom, pure and holy,
For a deliverance of a groaning earth,
For the wronged captive, bleeding, crush'd, and lowly,
Let it go forth! I
"Sons of the best of fathers! will ye falter
With all they left ye peril'd and at stake 
iHo I once again on freedom's holy altar
The fire awake! I
"Prayer-strengthen'd for the trial come together,
Put on the harness for the moral fight,
#And, with the blessing of your heavenly Father,
Maintain the right I "
Another of Whittier's grand poems is that written
after a meeting had been held in Faneuil Hall, by
certain citizens of Boston, to suppress the freedonm of
8speech. We will quote it entire; but, before doing
so, must relate air anecdote connected with this poem.
A dear friend of ours, now, alas, beneath the sod, was
a most passionate admirer of Whittier's poetry. To
him there was no other American poet living, and
there could be no other. Possessed of lofty enthusi
246
1. 
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
asm, he revelled in some of Whittier's magnificent
songs, and as his life was often cast far away from
his native New England, he committed to memory
all of Whittier's finest poems, so that he could repeat
them at pleasure. It was his habit to do this often
to others, or alone in a meditative mood to himself.
Our paths chanced once to lie in one direction, across
the Atlantic, and one starry night we sat late upon
the quarter-deck listening to his recitation of his favorite poems. Appreciating every shade of the poet's thought, sharing his enthusiasm, by constant practice he had acquired the art of reading very finely, and
it was a great treat to hear him. By thinking often
of each poem, our friend, having a brisk imagination,
had acquired the habit of prefacing each recitation
with a story of the author, or the peculiar occasion
which called the poem forth. We know not, as he
pretended, they were all in every particular true, but
we never shall forget the impression which the poem
we quote below (" Stanzasfor the Times,") made upon
a small, English audience, after his prefatory story.
As we copy the poem, we will venture also the anecdote, not vouching, however, for its exact truth.
It was substantially as follows:
Whittier, at the time this poem was written, was a
young, modest man, little used to city customs-in
fact, fragrant of clover blossoms, unsophisticated, a
pure, young, country Quaker. He had heard but
247 
MODERN AGITATORS.
little of the infamous conduct of the wealthy and respectable supporters of slavery, living as he did in a
quiet, country town. One day his father sent him
to Boston on business. He came into the city in his
father's plain carriage, dressed in the sober, homely,
Quaker garb, and put up at a "farmer's hotel."  He
went out into the streets, and very soon noticed that
there was a great gathering of excited citizens. The
faces of the multitude wore a demoniac expression;
they seemed to be hungry for the blood of some person or persons. His thought was that some horrible
murder had been perpetrated, and that the indignation of the people could not be restrained from summary justice; but if even that were the case, he was
horror-struck at their eagerness for vindictive punishment. He hastily retraced his steps, and sought
infQrmnation from  his landlord.  The reply to his
questions was, that the people were on the scent of
an abolitionist-were trying to kill a citizen of Boston for asserting the simple rights of manhood. Was
it indeed so?  Could it be so?  "Yes, verily so."
The shock was lightning-like; his pure nature could
not easily believe it, and when he did, he uttered no
fiery words, but went sadly again into the street.
When evening came, he went to that "cradle of liberty," old Faneuil Hall, having heard that the enemies of freedom would hold a meeting there that
night. He was a silent, shocked spectator of that
248 
JOHN  G. WHlll'tIR.
disgraceful attempt to padlock the lips of freemen;
he listened with mute horror to the slavish sentiments uttered by sons of the old Pilgrims and children of the revolutionary heroes. He heard men
counsel the forcible suppression of the freedom, of
s8peech upon the question of slavery-yes, even in old
Massachusetts! They would compel men to s8ilence,
even in Boston, upon the great subject of human liberty! iHe walked slowly, sadly home to his hotel,
and calling for a pen, ink, and paper, and a light,
he went to his little room, where he wrote the fol
lowing
STANZAS FOR THE TIMES.
Is this the land our fathers loved,
The freedom which they toiled to win I
Is this the soil whereon they moved
Are these the graves they slumber in I
Are we the sons by whom are borne
The mantles which the dead have worn?
And shall we crouch above these graves,
With craven soul and fetter'd lip 
Yoke in with marked and branded sLAv,
And tremble at the driver's whip?
Bend to the earth our pliant knees,
And speak-but as our masters please 
Shall outraged Nature cease to feel 
Shall mercy's tears no longer flow 
Shall ruffian threats of cord and rteelThe dungeon's gloom-the assassin's blow,
Turn back the spirit roused to save
The Truth-our Country-and the Slave?
K*
246 
MODERN AGITATORS.
Of human skulls that shrine was made,
Round which the priests of Mexico
Before their loathsome idol prayedIs freedom's altar fashioned so?
And must we yield to Freedom's God,
As offering meet the negro's blood I
Shall tongues be mute, when deeds are wrought
Which well might shame extremest Hell?
Shall freemen lock the indignant thought 
Shall Pity's bosom cease to swell?
Shall honor bleed! Shall Truth succumb?
Shall pen, and press, and soul be dumb?
No-by each spot of haunted ground,
Where Freedom weeps her children's fallBy Plymouth's rock, and Bunker's mound,
By Griswold s stained and shattered wallBy Warren's ghost-by Langdon's shadeBy all the memories of our dead!
By their enlarging souls, which burst -
The bands and fetters round them setBy the FREE PILGRIM SPIRIT nursed
Within our inmost bosoms, yet,By all above, around, below,
Be ours the indignant answer-No!
No-guided by our country's laws,
For truth, and right, and suffering man,
Be ours to strive in Freedom's cause,
As christians may -as freemen can 1
Still pouring on unwilling ears
That truth oppression only fears.
What! shall we guard our neighbor still,
While woman shrinks beneath his rod,
And while he tramples down at will
The image of a common God!
VI.
260 
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
Shall watch and ward be round him set,
Of Northern nerve and bayonet I
And shall we know and share with him
The danger and the growing shame?
And see our Freedom's light grow dim,
Which should have filled the world with flame I
And, writhing, feel where'er we turn,
A world's reproach around us burn I
Is't not enough that this is borne?
And asks our haughty neighbor more I
Must fetters which his slaves have worn,
Clank round the Yankee farmer's door?
Must he be told beside his plow,
What he must speak, and when and ow?
Must he be told his freedom stands
On Slavery's dark foundations strongOn breaking hearts and fettered hands,
On robbery, and crime, and wrong 
That all his fathers taught is vainThat Freedom's emblem is the chain 
Its life-its soul from slavery drawn I
False-foul-profane!  Go-teach as well
Of holy Truth from Falsehood born I
Of Heaven refreshed by airs from Hell I
Of Virtue nursed by open Vice I
Of Demons planting Paradise I
Rail on, then, "brethren of the South "Ye shall not hear the truth the lessNo seal is on the Yankee's mouth,'
No fetter on the Yankee's press!
From our Green Mountains to the Sea,
One voice shall thunder-wE A.R rE  I "
251 
MODERN AGITATORS.
But if Whittier can rouse the stormy passions by
his warlike songs, so can he moan the saddest plaints,
so can he sing the gentlest songs. After reading one
of his battle-hymns, the reader unacquainted with
his poetry, would scarcely believe that the same author has written some of the most touching stanzas to
be found in modern poetry; but such is the fact.
One of his poems entitled " The Farewell," is one of
the sweetest, saddest, most musical poems ever written. It is the farewell of a Virginian slave-mother
to her children sold to the far south. We quote one
verse:
"Gone, gone-sold and gone
To the rice-swamp dank and lone,
Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings,
Where the noisome insect stings,
Where the Fever Demon strews
Poison with the falling dews,
Where the sickly sunbeams glare
Through the hot and misty air,Gone, gone-sold and gone,
To the rice-swamp dank and lone.
From Virginia's hills and waters,Woe is me, my stolen daughters 1"
But perhaps as fine a specimen of his poetry in
this vein, is his poem upon the death of Oliver Torrey,
who was Secretary of the Boston Anti-Slavery Society, a young man of lovely character:
252 
JOHN G. WHTIER.
LINES ON THE DEATH OF TORREY.
Gone before us, 0 our brother,
To the spirit-land I
Vainly look we for another
In thy place to stand.
Who shall offer youth and beauty
On the wasting shrine
Of a stern and lofty duty,
With a faith like thine 
Oh I thy gentle smile of greeting
Who again shall see 
Who amidst the solemn meeting
Gaze again on thee  -
Who, when peril gathers o'er us,
Wear so calm a brow?
Who, with evil men before us,
So serene as thou?
Early hath the spoiler found thee,
Brother of our love!
Autumn's faded earth around thee,
And its storms above I
Evermore that turf lie lightly
And, with future showers,
O'er thy slumbers fresh and brightly
Blow the summer flowers I
In the locks thy forehead gracing,
Not a silvery streak;
Not a line of sorrows's tracing
On thy fair young cheek;
Eyes of light and lips of roses,
Such as Hylas woreOver all that curtain closes,
Which shall rise no more
- 253 
MODERN AGrrITATOlS.
Will the vigil Love is keeping
Round that grave of thine,
Mournfully, like Jazar weeping
Over Sibmah's vineWill the pleasant memories swelling
Gentle hearts of thee,
In the spirit's distant dwelling
All unheeded be?
If the spirit ever gazes,
From his journeyings back;
If the immortal ever traces
O'er its mortal track;
Wilt thou not, 0 brother, meet us
Sometimes on our way,
And in hours of sadness greet us
As a spirit may 
Peace be with thee, 0 our brother,
In the spirit-land I
Vainly look we for another
In thy place to stand.
Unto Truth and Freedom giving
All thy early powers,
Be thy virtues with the living
And thy spirit ours I
The selections we have made are connected, as are
a majority of Whittier's poems, with the subject of
slavery, and there are many quite equal, and some
very possibly superior, to the ones we have quoted,
upon the same subject. Some of his most beautiful
poems, however, have nothing to do with reform.
His songs of labor are very beautiful. No living
254 
JOHN G. WHITThIER.
poet loves more intensely the beauties of nature
than he.
We should perhaps beg the pardon of our readers
for copying so many examples of Whittier's poetry;
but it is the very shortest road to an appreciation of
his charcter.  So little can be said of'he  man-he
has always been so modest and retiring-that we
cannot refrain from remarking upon some of his finrest poems. His lines upon the death of the sister
of Joseph Sturge are full of a solemn grandeur of
style and thought. Joseph Sturge is one of the noblest reformers of Great Britain.  He is a member
of the Society of Friends, but has no bigotry, no repulsive fondness for form in dress, though he conforms to the usual customs of his sect. He is a lovable man-a man who is almost adored by the poor
people of. Birmingham, where he resides. He is
wealthy; and constantly, unremittingly devotes a
large share of his income to alleviate the sufferings of
the poor about him. His sister, Sophia Sturge, was
in her nature very much like her brother Joseph,
only with'a softer, woman's nature. She was benevolent, affectionate, and untiring in her devotion to
the poor. Duty was always her master. No hardship could cause her to shrink one moment from it.
She was not only a friend to the slave, but a consistent advocate of total abstinence from all intoxicating liquors. To hold such a position in English so.
255 
MODERN AGITATORS.
ciety, even among the Friends, costs much more selfdenial than here. So severely rigorous was Sophia
Sturge that she refused in her last sickness to take,
at the order of her physician, one drop of the poisonous liquid, prescribed under the various names of
brandy, wine, gin, etc., etc.
It was upon this noble woman that Whittier wrote
the following lines:
TO MY FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF HIS SISTER
THINE is a grief, the depth of which another
May never know;
Yet, o'er the waters, 0 my stricken brother! I
To thee I go.
I lean my heart unto thee, sadly folding
Thy hand in mine,
With even the weakness of my soul upholding
The strength of thine.
I never knew, like thee, the dear departed;
I stood not by
When, in calm trust, the pure and tranquil-hearted
Lay down to die.
And on thy ears my words of weak condoling
Must vainly fall:
The funeral bell which in thy heart is tolling,
Sounds over all.
I will not mock thee with the poor world's common
And heartless phrase,
Nor wrong the memory of a sainted woman
With idle praise.
256 
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
With silence only as their benediction,
God's angels come
Where, in the shadow of a great affliction,
The soul sits dumb!
Yet, would I say what thy own heart approveth:
Our Father's will,
Calling to him the dear one whom he loveth,
Is mercy still.
Not upon thee or thine the solemn angel
Hath evil wrought;
Her funeral anthem is a glad evangel        The good die not!
God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly
What he hath given;
They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly
As in his heaven.
And she is with thee; in thy path of trials
She walketh yet;
Still with the baptism of thy self-denial
Her locks are wet.
Up then, my brother! Lo, the fields of harvest
Lie white in view!
She lives and loves thee, and the God thou servest
To both is true.
Thrust in thy sickle I England's toil-worn peasants
Thy call abide;
And she thou mourn'st, a pure and holy presence
Shall glean beside I
Another of Whittier's sweetest poems is that entitled "GosE," and commencing as follows:
17
267 
MODERN AGITATORS.
"Another hand is beckoning us,
Another call is given;
And glows once more with angel steps
The path which reaches heaven."
There is a subdued, softened pathos in it scarcely Surl
passed in the whole range of modern poetry. We
will give the remaining stanzas:
"Our young and gentle friend, whose smile
Made brighter summer hours,
Amidc the frosts of autumn time
Has left us, with the flowers.
"No paling of the cheek of bloom
Forewarned us of decay;
No shadow from the silent land
Fell round our sister's way.
"The light of her young life went down,
As sinks behind the hill
The glory of a setting star  Clear, suddenly, and still.
"As pure and sweet her fair brow seemed,
Eternal as the sky;
And like the brook's low song, her voice  A sound which could not die.
"And half we deemed she needed not
The changing of her sphere,
To give to heaven a shining one,
Who walked an angel here.
"The blessing of her quiet life
Fell on us like the dew;
And good thoughts, where her footsteps pressd
Like fairy blossoms grew.
258 
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
"Sweet promptings unto kindest deeds
Were in her very look;
We read her face, as one who reads
A true and holy book.
"The measure of a blessed hymn,
To which our hearts could move;
The breathing of an inward psalm;
A canticle of love.
"We miss her in the place of prayer,
And by the hearth-fire's light;
We pause beside her door to hear
Once more her sweet' Good night I'
"There seems a shadow on the day,
Her smile no longer cheers;
A dimness on the stars of night,
Like eyes that look through tears.
"Alone unto our Father's will
One thought hath reconciled;
That He whose love exceedeth ours
* Hath taken home His child.
"Fold her, oh Father! in thine arms,
And let her henceforth be
A messenger of love between
Our human hearts and Thee.
"Still let her mild rebuking stand
Between us and the wrong,
And her dear memory serve to make
Our faith in goodness strong.
"And, grant that she who, trembling, here,
Distrusted all her powers,
May welcome to her holier home
The well-beloved of ours."
259
,..4 
MODERN AGITATORS.
The last poem we shall quote is one of the latest
productions of Mr. Whittier, and to us it seems one
of the very best of his gentle poems. The contrast
between it and one of his warlike pieces is great.
The poem is entitled
MAUD MULLER.
MAUD MULLER, on a summer's day,
Raked the meadow sweet with hay.
Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth
Of simple beauty and rustic health.
Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee
The mock-bird reechoed from every tree.
But when she glanced to the far-off town,
White from its hill-slope looking down,
The sweet song died, and a vague unrest
And a nameless longing filled her breast
A wish, that she hardly dared to own,
For something better than she had known.
The Judge rode slowly down the lane,
Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane.
He drew his bridle in the shade
Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid,
And ask a draught from the spring that flowed
Through the meadow, across the road.
She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up,
And filled for him her small tin cup,
And blushed as she gave it, looking down
On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown.
260 
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
"Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught
From fairer hand was never quaffed."
He spoke of the grass, and flowers, and trees,
Of the singing birds and humming bees;
Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether
The cloud in the west would bring foul weather.
And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown,
And her graceful ankles bare and brown;
And listened, while a pleased surprise
Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes.
At last, like one who for delay
Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away.
Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah me l
That I the Judge's bride might be I
"He would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine.
"My father should wear a broadcloth coat;
My brother should sail a painted boat.
"I'd dress my mother so grand and gay
And the baby should have a new toy each day.
"And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor,
And all should bless me who left our door."
The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill,
And saw Maud Muller standing still.
"A form more fair, a face more sweet,
Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet..
"And her modest answer and graceful air
Show her wise and good as she is fair.
261 
MODERN AGITATORS.
"Would she were mine, and I to-day,
Like her, a harvester of hay;
"No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs,
Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues,
"But the low of cattle and song of birds,
And health and quiet and loving words."
But he thought of his sister, proud and cold,
And his mother, vain of her rank and gold.
So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on,
And Maud was left in the field alone.
But the lawyers smiled that afternoon,
When he hummed in court an old love-tune;
And the young girl mused beside the well,
Till the rain on the unraked clover felL
He wedded a wife of richest dower,
Who lived for fashion as he for power.
Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow,
He watched a picture come and go;
And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes
Looked out in their innocent surprise.
Oft, when the wine in his glass was red,
He longed for the way-side well instead;
And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms,
To dream of meadows and clover blooms.
And the proud man sighed with a secret pain
"Ah, that I were free again I
"Free as when I rode that day,
Where the barefoot maiden raked the hay!"
262
I 
JOHN G. WHITTIER.
She wedded a man unlearned and poor,
And many children played round her door.
But care and sorrow, and child-birth pain,
Left their traces on heart and brain.
And oft, when the summer sun shone hot
On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot,
And she heard the little spring-brook fall
Over the road-side, through the wall,
In the shade of the apple-tree again
She saw a rider draw his rein,
And, gazing down with a timid grace,
She felt his pleased eyes read her face.
Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls
Stretched away into stately halls;
The weary wheel to a spinnet turned,
The tallow candle an astral burned,
And for him who sat by the chimney-lug
:oozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug,
A manly form at her side she saw,
And joy was duty and love ancaw.
Then she took up the burden of life again,
Saying only, "It might have been."
Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge I
God pity them both I and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall,
For of all sad words of tongue and pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been I"
263 
MODERN AGITATORS.
Ah! well for us all, some sweet hope lies
Deeply buried from human eyes;
And, in the hereafter, angels may
Roll the stone from its grave away.
The clear, bright morning, the burning noon,
the still, calm evening, the rocky mountains of New
England, the broad prairies of the west, and the gorgeous scenery of the south, have each and all been
the theme of his song. There is a quiet beauty, a
half-sad gentleness in many of his poems, which contrasts strangely with the fiery eloquence which characterizes others. No American poet has, in our opinion, equaled Whittier in all that is intensely passionate, impetuous and warlike, and there are few that
equal him in the pathetic and the beautiful. His
sarcasm is terribly keen-as a sample of this, we refer the reader to his poem upon the publisher of a
popular magazine, who took such exceeding pains to
let the south know that he employed no anti-slavery
writers upon his fmby-pamby monthly.  One of
the most memorable of his poems, is that upon Daniel Webster. It is like the wildly solemn wind in
late autumn, moaning through the pines over the
desolateness of Nature.  No  ordinary poet could
write a poem, meet even for the fall of such a great
man as Webster-but " Ichabod " is a poem which,
in grandeur, is fit to commemorate the downfall of
such a collossal man!  But we will not attempt a
264 
JOHIN G. WHITTIER.
criticism upon Whittier-we have intended only to
point out what are to us some of his most striking
characteristics, illustrating these by a few specimens
of his reform-poetry. We know of no man more
worthy of the name Agitator than he, and few there
are living in the world, more sure to live in the
hearts of future generations.
L
265
. 1... W
*   *    *  e   w
%Ce: 
HORACE BUSHNELL, D. D.
IT is our intention in these.sketches of modern agitators, not to be confined to one class of reformers.
We shall endeavor to draw the portraits of agitators
in church as well as in state; of some of those noble
men who have battled manfully the slavery of. intemperance, as well as of the agitators against negro slavery. But we have been struck with surprise to find
that the modern agitator is usually an advocate of al
the just reforms of the day. It is very difficult to
find a man of original and reformatory ideas in the
church, who is an opponent of the cause of temperance, or who withholds his sympathy from the friends
of freedom. The leading enemies of rum are generally friendly to the cause of the slave, and the antislavery mnen of the land are almost unanimously devoted temperance advocates.
The reader will perhaps naturally suppose that
when we placed Dr. Bushnell's name at the head of
this article, we had in mind the theological agitation
caused throughout the country, and especially in Connecticut, by his somewhat celebrated volume, entitled, " God in CAhrist." Such was not the case. As
I 
HORACE BUISHNELL) D. D.
to the merits of that controversy, which is not yet settled, we have here nothing to say, either in approval
or condemnation of Dr. Bushnell. We make no pretensions to theological acquirements, and are not
competent to discuss, much less decide, the points in
dispute.  But we look upon Dr. Bushnell as one of
thle most profound agitators of the age. We think in
reference to theological matters, that the spirit of tAe
age is in him. The drift of his published writings is
continually toward a liberal, unsectarian, and practical christianity.  He makes deadly war upon mere
creeds, and urges most earnestly upon the christian
world a better practice.  "Deeds, not words,' is the
essence of the religion he preaches. It seems to us
that the reader must be obtuse who reading Bushnell
sees only his peculiar views of the trinity and the sufferings of Christ. His opinions upon these points
may be accepted or rejected, and the time may be
coming when they will be forgotten, but he will be
remembered; and the books which contain his peculiar views may live, but they will not detract from
the author's reputation. As an early, eloquent, and
intellectually powerful advocate of a more generous
christianity than that born of creeds, as a great defender of the important truths of the gospel upon
philosophical principles, he will live in future generations. In this skeptical age, such a man is precious
to the cause of pure religion, for he meets the skeptic
. 267 
MODERN AGITATORS.
with sound argument, instead of denunciation, with
a profound love for Christ, instead of a burning hatred of those who unfortunately have lost, or never
found, the path which leads to Him.  It is this catholic, charitable tendency in all Dr. Bushnell's writings which awakens agitation wherever they are
read, and which excites the bitter opposition of conservatives in the church. He has been accused by
men actively engaged in important reforms of withholding his aid from them, and of being so absorbed
in convincing men of the importance of more religion
in the life, as to overlook the miserable drunkard in
the streets, and the panting fugitive at his door in
fact, to neglect to practice what he preaches. But
it must be remembered, that, to some men, it is
given to enunciate great principles which underlie
the foundations of society, or which should underlie
society, and of such men little more can be asked.
A slave-holder cannot live upon the food which Dr.
Bushnell offers to him; the rumseller would choke
upon it. And though the doctor does not often
preach anti-slavery or temperance sermons (perhaps
not so often as he should,) yet when he does, he
speaks boldly for the right. Years ago, on the eve
of an exciting election, he came out in his pulpit one
Sabbath day with a sermon upon the duties of christian voters, which was like a bomb-shell thrown into
a peaceful town. It was unexpected; the people
268 
HORACE BUSHNELL, D. D.
were not prepared for it; but it was a bold enunciation of God's truth, and his hearers sat still, and listened somewhat as children do to God's thunder. He
has also condemned in the strongest language the fugitive slave act, so that his views upon this part of
the great compromise are everywhere known.  But
hlie deals usually in great general principles, rather
than every-day applications of such principles. Perhaps he errs in this; we have thought it would be a
greater service to the world if he would dwell more
upon the sins which are eating into its very heart;
but we cannot ignore the fact, that all his productions
and performances tend toward reform in church and
state.
Hiorace Bushnell is a native of the town of Litchfield, Connecticut, and is about fifty years of age.
His fathej was a clothier, a man of sterling character
and intellect. HIis mother was one of the gentlest
and most affectionate of women. When Horace was
two years old, his father moved into the town of New
Preston, where we believe he continued to reside for
a number of years. The little that we know of Dr.
iBushnell's early life can quickly be written. Hie entered Yale College, and graduated in the year 1827.
Two years afterward he was appointed a tutor in the
same institution, which office he filled for two years.
He next removed to the city of New York, where for
a time he edited a newspaper. He at length entered
269 
IMODE,RN AGITATORS.
upon a theological course, to prepare himself for the
ministry.  IHe was ordained over the North church,
in Hartford, May 22, 1833, and has continued to
preach with great acceptance to the same church until the present day. I-Ie was married when young,
to Miss Mary Apthorpe, of New HIaven, by whom he
has had five children, three of whom are living.
In Dr. Bushnell's discourse, delivered at the centennial celebration of Litchfield county, he has given
us a picture or two of his boyish days, which are sufficiently graphic and beautiful to excuse us for quoting them here. IHe says:
"But the schools -  we must not pass by these if we are to
form a truthful and sufficient picture of the home-spun days.
The schoolmaster did not exactly go round the district to fit out
the children's minds with learning, as the shoe-maker often did
to fit their feet with shoes, or the tailors to measure and cut
for their bodies; but, to come as near it as possible, he boarded
round, (a custom not yet gone by,) and the wood for the common fire was supplied in a way equally primitive, viz: by a
contribution of loads from the several families, according to
their several quantities of childhood. * * * * There
was no complaint in those days of the want of ventilation; for
the large open fire-place held a considerable fraction of a cord
of wood, and the windows took inl just enough air to supply
the combustion.   Besides, the bigger  lads were occasionally
ventilated by being sent out to cut wood enough to keep the
fire in action. The seats were made of the outer slabs from
270 
HORACE BUSHNELL) D. D.
the saw-mill, supported by slant legs driven into and a proper
distance through auger holes, and planed smooth on the top by
the rather tardy process of friction. But the spelling went on
bravely, and we ciphered away again and again, always till we
got through "loss and gain." The more advanced of us, too,
made light work of Lindley Murray, and went on to the pars.
ing, finally, of extracts from Shakspeare and Milton, till some
of us began to think we had mastered their tough sentences in
a more consequential sense than was exactly true. 0, I remember (about the remotest thing I can remember) that low
seat, too high, nevertheless, to allow the feet to touch the floor,
and that friendly teacher who had the address to start a fresh
feeling of enthusiasm and awaken the first sense of power. He
is living still, and whenever I think of him, he rises up to me
in the far background of memory, as bright as if he had worn
the seven stars in his hair."
Still farther on, he says:
"I remember being despatched, when a lad, one Saturday
afternoon, in the winter, to bring home a few bushels of apples
engaged of a farmer a mile distant; but the careful, exact man
looked first at the clock, then out the window at the sun, and
turning to me said,'I cannot measure out the apples in time
for you to get home before sundown, you must come again
Monday;' then how I went home  venting my boyish impatience in words not exactly respectful, assisted by the sunlight
playing still upon the eastern hills, and got for rmy comfort a
very unaccountably small amount of specially silent sympathy."
271 
MODERN AGITATORS.
In 1833 Dr. Bushnell, we have said, was ordained
over the North church, in Hartford. Twenty years
afterward-last May-he preached a "commemorative discourse," in which he alluded, in the following
language, to his first visit to said church:
"I received a letter in February, 1833, inviting me to come
and preach, for a time, to this congregation, of which I knew
nothing save that you had recently parted with your pastor.
I arrived here late in the afternoon, in a furious snow storm,
after floundering all day in the heavy drifts the storm was raising among the hills between here and Litchfield. I went, as
invited, directly to the house of the chairman of the committee; but I had scarcely warmed me, and not at all relieved
the hunger of my fast, when he came in and told me that arrangements had been made for mne with one of the fathers of
the ehurch, and immediately sent me off with my baggage to
the quarters assigned. Of course I had no complaint to make,
though the fire seemed very inviting and the house attractive;
but when I came to know the hospitality of my friend, as I had
abundant opportunity of knowing it afterward, it became somewhat of a mystery to me that I should have been despatched
in this rather summary fashion. But it came out three or four
years after, that as there were two parties strongly marked in
the church, an old and new school party, as related to the New
Haven controversy, the committee had made up their mind,
very prudently, that it would not do for me to stay even for
an hour with the new school brother of the committee; and
for this reason they had made interest with the elder brother
272 
HORACE BUSHiNELLI D. D.
referred to, because he was a man of the school simply of Jesus Christ. And here, under cover of his good hospitality, which
I hope he has never found reason to regret-extended by him
and received by me in equal simplicity-I was put in hospital
and kept away from the infected districts, preparatory to a set
tlement in the North church, of Hartford. I mention this fact
to show the very delicate condition prepared for the young pastor, who is to be thus daintily inserted between an acid and
an alkali, having it for his task both to keep them apart and
to save himself from being bitten of one or devoured by the
other."
No pastor was ever more loved and respected than
is Dr. Bushnell by his church and congregation. For
twenty years he has occupied the pulpit of the old
North church, and not a whisper of his dismission
ever yet was heard. We do not mean that he has
never raised a storm in the church by his faithful
preaching, but his hearers have loved him so well
that they could not remain angry with hirt. When
he came out so fearlessly in condemnation of the corrupt politics of the time, an angry agitation for a little while surrounded him, but it soon passed away.
In his "Discourse," preached May, 1853, he speaks
thus pithily of it:
"I preached a fast-day sermon, showing that "politics are
under the law of God." Wise or unwise in the manner, it was
greatly offensive to some, but the offense was soon forgiven;
in consideration, I suppose, of the fact that, apart from the
L*                           18
273 
MODERN AGITATORS.
manner, the doctrine was abundantly wanted, and even sol
emnly true."
We will not attempt to sketch the history of the
late agitation in reference to his " God in Christ,"
for it is too near the present, even had we the space,
to justify such a history. Dr. Bushnell first preached
a           sermon  the Concio ad Cler,7/, at New Hayen. He was selected by the district association for
that purpose, and the general association, as is its
usual custom, selected his subject. The sermon thus
preached constitutes the first part of " God in Christ."
Hie was next invited to deliver an address before some
society at Cambridge, which he accepted, and that
sermon constitutes the second part of his celebrated
book. Hie next delivered an address before the theological students at Andover, at their request, and that
constitutes the third and last part of his book. These
three parts, together with an introductory essay upon
language, make up the book, which has created such
an agitation among the churches, and which has been
republished and sold extensively in England. iHe
was charged with heresy, and the association to which
he belonged instituted an inquiry into the truth of
the charge, and after examination voted seventeen to
three, that while his peculiar views were not accepted
by that body, yet they saw no such heresy as would
warrant further proceedings. It is claimed by his
274 
HORACE BUSHNELL, D. D.
accusers, that hlie tramples upon the orthodox doctrines iD reference to the trinity, the person of Christ,
and the atonement. In the sermon from which we
have made quotations, he says:
"it is very true that I have presented some explanations of
three important doctrines, the trinity, the person of Christ, and
atonement, which differ in their shade from the explanations
given by my brethren. Are we therefore to exclude each
other?  Still we can preach a trinity, Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost, three persons, in a hearty love of trinity itself, and re
garding it as a conception of God without which he were a being practically distant from us. And if we should happen to
preach three persons meaning something a little different by the
word person, just as all the wisest teachers of the ages before
us have consented in the right to do, might we not have good
cause to say that in effect we agree?
"As re'gards the divinity of Christ, we have happily no appearance of controversy. And if we do not conceive the philosophy of his person just alike, let it be enough that we can
preach him as a person, Son of God and Son of Man, tempted
in all points as we are, without sin, one with us in the line of
Adam, born into the race, the child of a virgin, conceived by
the Holy Ghost, grown up to be a perfect, the only perfect
man, God manifest in the flesh.
"As regards the work or sacrifice of Christ, we can agree in
showing that he lives a suffering life, dies a suffering death;
that by his life and death he so compensates the dishonored
law and fortifies the divine justice that pardon is dispensed, not
275 
MODERN AGITATORS.
in mere paternal clemency, but in a way of justification; con.
sequently that we are justified by faith without the deeds of
tne law, and so that Christ is made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification and redemption."
The Presbyterian Quarterly says:
" His (Dr. Bushnell's) mind is one of no common force or
compass. Original, imaginative, shrewd, cultivated, comprehensive, naturally, at least, ambitious, it is not strange that he
should make an impression upon the American Church.   His
is one of the most active, versatile, outlooking natures which
the atmosphere of an age, especially such an atmosphere as that
of ours, would reach soonest. We do not know when we have
been so much struck with anything as with an oration of Dr.
Bushnell's, delivered to the Phi Beta Kappa, at Cambridge, and
which we have seen for the first time among his publications,
in a recent collection we made of them, for careful study. He
declines giving any name for his theme, but it appears to be
"Work and Play."
"It is quite obvious, we think, that Dr. Bushnell had conceived the idea of converting the Unitarians, by fusing their
views and those of the Orthodox together, in the crucible of a
profounder philosophy, by dissolving scriptural truth, so to speak,
in an oriental atmosphere. * * * It were a great feat of
spiritual ambition, not to speak of nobler motives, to bring in,
on the deep current of Platonism, a compromise that, melting
New Haven and Cambridge together, might reunite all the Congregational churches, and present the finest essence of New
England mind and character, blended in religion, upon the pro.
foundest grounds of philosophy. Thus, one of the discourses
276 
IHORACE BUSHNELL) D. D.
in the book, called "God in Christ," was delivered at Cambridge,
to the Divinity School. It is upon the Atonement, and is a
kind of ultimate in the way of compromise, a method of doctrinal torture of a most transcendant kind, intended to show
Harvard how a man may hold a Calvinistic Atonement so as
to be almost an Aesthetic Unitarian."
N. P. Willis, in his Journal, quotes him, and
remarks:
" But the evangelical world will be interested to know that
this sermon of Dr. Bushnell is not a new one. He preached
it seventeen years ago, and to us individually-or at ]east, a ser
mon turning precisely on the same convergent and reciproco
frictionizing philosophy. The reader will presently see how
we have had a daily mnemonic, since, to remind us to practice
what it taught.
"Seniors and classmates at Yale, in 1827, we occupied the
'third story, back, north college, north entry'-Bushnell in the
north.west corner. As a student, our classmate and neighbor
was a black-haired, earnest-eyed, sturdy, carelessly-dressed, athletic and independent good fellow-popular in spite of being
both blunt and exemplary. We have seen him but once since
those days, and then we chanced to meet him on a steamer on
the Rhine-in the year 1845, we think-both of us, (overworked in our respective parishes,) voyagers for health. But
to our story.
"The chapel bell was ringing us to prayers one summer's
morning; and Bushnell, on his punctual way, chanced to look
in at the opposite door, where we were-with the longitudinal
277 
MODERN AGITATORS.
straight come and go which we thought the philosophy of itstrapping our razor. (The bears was then a new customer of
ours.) The pending shave, of course, was not to release us in
time for more than the tutor's amen; but that was not the text
of our classmate's sermon.' Why,  man!' said he, rushing
in and seizing the instrument without ceremony,'is that the
way you strap a razor?'  He grasped the strop in his other
hand, and we have remembered his tone and manner almost
three hundred and sixty-five times a year ever since, as he threw
out his two elbows and showed us how it should be done.' By
drawing it from heel to point, both ways,' said he,'thus, and
thus; you make the two cross frictions correct each other.'
And dropping the razor, with this brief lesson, he started on
an overtaking trot to the chapel, the bell having stopped ringing
as he scanned the improved edge with his equally sharp black
eye. Now, will any one deny that these brief but excellent
directions, for making the roughness of opposite sides contribute to a mutual fine edge, seem to have been'the tune' of the
doctor's sermon to the Unitarians? Our first hearing of the
discourse was precisely as we have narrated it, and we thank
the doctor for most edifying comfort out of the doctrine, as we
trust his later hearers will, after as many years."
Dr. Bushnell possesses few of the graces of a pulpit orator. He lacks in forcible gesture, is scarcely
ever impassioned in his manner, and has a disagreeable nasal utterance. But the matter richly compensates for the want of manner. He has always crowded
houses, and silent, eager auditors. We have heard
278 
HORACE BUSHNELL, D. D.
him when a sigh could be heard throughout the house,
so enrapt was every person present, with his calm,
majestic eloquence. He possesses great logical acumen, but is also a great poet, though he does not
write rhymes. We could quote passages from some
of his sermons which, in magnificent conception and
splendid imagery, are surpassed by the writings of
few living men, be they poets or orators. Hie is not
declamatory, is not passionate, but is nevertheless at
times exceedingly powerful. One is amazed at the
profoundness of his intellect, and at the impression
which he makes upon the hearer with it, without the
usually considered necessary oratorical accompani
ments.
In his person, Dr. Bushnell is slim, and of the average height. Hiis features appear small but his head
is of large size. Hiis eyes are small and piercing, his
forehead is expansive, his hair is dark gray, and he is
graceful in his conversation and manners.
Feeling confident that whatever judgment the
world may pronounce upon Dr. Bushnell's views of
the trinity, Christ and the atonement, it will in due
time recognize in him, not only a powerful intellect,
but a great Christian reformer-the advocate of
principles which, carried out, will produce a nobler
Christianity than that which has characterized many
of the leaders in the church-principles which will
overthrow injustice, robbery and oppression, because
279 
MODERN AGITATORS.
they teach that the practdcal is of more importance
than the theoretical, we have penned this feeble portrait of him, as one of the important agitators of
the time.
280  
-    ~;~6   > 
4
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
WE do not attempt a pen-portrait of Mr. Seward
because he is a man of splendid intellect and acquirements; it is not because he is in the fullest sense of
the word a statesman; nor yet because he has throughout the whole of his career thus far, shown himself
to be possessed of humane and Christian principles.
We can say with truth that he is one of the first agitators of the age. It may be without design upon his
part, but it is no less a fact.  The higher law agitation was.begotten by him.  For he, in the United
States senate, opposed the enactment of the abominable fugitive slave law -God's " higher law."
Daniel Webster, that giant intellect which held
New England in thrall for a quarter of a century, is
known throughout this country, and perhaps the
world, as the defender of the constitution, but long
after Seward the advocate, or Seward the politician,
shall have been forgotten, the memory of Seward the
defender of the higher law will be fresh in the hearts
of a nation of freemen.  That was a sublime scene,
when he, surrounded by men of eminent abilities, but 
MODERN AGitATORS.
abilities devoted to the perpetration of injustice, ventured almost alone, and certainly with a mighty array of both talent and power against him, to thunder
in the ears of listening senators the sentiment that
there is a law higher than any they could makehigher than even the constitution itself-the law
written upon the hearts of men by the finger of
God.
The agitation which this simple, gospel truth created, in a country professedly christian, is truly astonishing, and we think it astonished no one more than
Mr. Seward. iHe certainly could not have anticipated
that not only politicians, but the professed expounders of God's word, would join the chorus against him,
and against one of the profoundest and most self-evident truths contained in holy writ.
William IH. Seward was born in Florida, N. Y.,
May 16th, 1801, and is consequently nearly fifty-four
years old. His ancestors were of Welsh extraction
upon his father's side, and Irish upon the side of his
mother. Hiis father was a physician in the state of
New York, of good character and respectable abilities, while his mother was a woman of clear intellect
and warm heart.  The inhabitants of the little town
of Florida were principally emigrants from Connecticut and other New England states, and the tone of
society was puritanic-using the word in its noblest
sense. It was a quiet village, and the influences
0
282 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
which surrounded the boy were excellent. HIe was
noted for a studious turn of mind, a precocious development of his intellect, and a frank and gentle
disposition. When nine years old he was sent to
school at an academy in Goshen. At fifteen years
of age the pale, thin, studious lad entered Union College, where he soon distinguished himself by his severe studies, his brilliant talents, and a manly and
generous character. His favorite studies were rhetoric, moral philosophy, and the ancient classics. iHe
rose at four in the morning and sat up late. It was
in college, perhaps, that he acquired those habits of
continuous mental toil which distinguish him now.
Hie graduated with distinguished honors. Among
his fellow-graduates were William Kent, Dr. Hiickok,
and Professor Lewis. Mr. Seward shortly after entered thelaw-office of John Anthon, of the city of New
York, where his thorough devotion to his studies, as
before while in college, attracted the attention of his
teachers. He completed his legal studies with Judge
Duer and Ogden Hoffman, in Goshen, and was- ad mitted to the bar of the supreme court at Utica, in
1822. The year following he took up his residence
in the beautiful village of Auburn, which contains
his "household gods" at the present day.  He be came the law partner of Judge Miller, of Auburn,
and in 1824 married his youngest daughter, Frances
Adeline Miller. The fruits of this union were five
283 
MODERN AGITATORS.
children, one of whom died young; one is in the
United States army; another follows the profession
of his father, while the remaining two are quite
young.
Mr. Seward's personal appearance can scarcely be
said to be prepossessing.'At least we never knew a
person who had, through the medium of the journals,
become acquainted with his master-pieces of eloquence, afterward see him  without an expression
of disappointment. And yet there are many noble
points in his personal appearance. IHe is scarcely
average-sized, is modest in his ways, and often wears
upon his face a sleepy look, which gives no indication
of the powerful intellect behind that dreamy front.
The first time we saw him he was at home among the
charming scenery of Auburn, and beneath the roof
of a imutual friend. Hils face struck us at first unpleasantly; it seemed too expressionless for so great
a man; but in a moment the dreamy cloud furled
off, and the eyes grew bright, and we felt the fascination of his voice, look, manner, and brilliant conversation- a fascination which thousands of others
have experienced who have met him in conversation,
or have listened to his speeches.  His whole appearance seemed to have suddenly changed. The compact brow expressed power, the eyes genius, the lips
force, the whole body grace mingled with stateliness,
unassuming as it really was. An air of pleasant
284 
WILLIA.I H. SEWARD.
frankness pervaded his conversation and manners,
and the listener forgot the man, his achievements,
and position, in the topic of conversation. Hie has
no affected dignity, but is simple and natural in all
his ways and habits. There are distinguished politicians, so-called great men, in this country, whose
greatness consists principally in a pompous dignity
of manners and rhetoric. The chronic dullness of
such men passes with the multitude for profundity of
intellect.  We hear a great deal of the look of latent
power which such men wear, and indeed if they possess power it must be latent, for they never give the
world any evidence of their godlike proportions of
mind. Mr. Seward has not achieved the brilliant
position which he occupies by any such method; he
has earned it by a life of severe labor, and the fruits
of his earnest toil remain an imperishable monument
to his memory.
lie has long been a resident of Auburn-one of the
most beautiful cities in the state of New York-and
early became distinguished in his profession. His
social position is a happy one; his wealth is sufficient
for his wants, and he is universally beloved by his
townsmen.  Though wealthy, his habits are simple,
and he is as much the friend of the poor man when
at home, as of the wealthy and influential. Hie is
not merely theoretical, therefore, in his professions
of democracy. For several years he has been a mem
285
I 
MODERN AGITATORS.
ber of the Episcopal church, at Auburn, and has always conducted himself like a christian gentleman.
The father of Mr. Seward was a Jeffersonian democrat, and the son accepted the politics of his father;
but in a short time after he had begun the practice
of law, he left the democratic ranks for those of the
great opposing party.  When the Missouri compromise agitation swept over the country, he at once
sided, instinctively, with the friends of freedom, and
made several public speeches against any compromise with slavery. In 1830 he was elected to the
state senate on anti-masonic grounds. In 1833 he
made the tour of Europe. One year later he was
nominated for governor by the whig party of his native state, and was defeated. In 1838 he was again
nominated to that office, and was elected by ten
thousand majority. When his term of office expired
he was reelected by a handsome, though not quite so
great, a majority. While occupying the executive
chair he used his influence for the repeal of all state
laws which in any manner countenanced the institution of negro slavery. The law which permitted a
southern slave-owner to retain possession of his slave,
while traveling through the state, was repealed. A
law was also passed which allowed a fugitive the
benefit of a jury trial. An act.was also passed prohibiting state officers from assisting in the recovery
of fugitives, and denying the use of the jails for the
286 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
confinement of fugitive slaves under arrest. Afterward, these laws were very unjustly pronounced unconstitutional by the United States supreme court.
Another law was passed, chiefly through his influence, for the recovery of kidnapped colored citizens
of New York. Under the operation of this humane
enactment, Solomon Northup, who for twelve years,
had been forced to toil upon southern soil, was rescued, to the great joy of his family and friends. The
history of the wrongs perpetrated upon him have
since been published in a book form, and have met
with an extraordinary sale. To crown his official
acts, just before retiring from office, Mr. Seward recommended the abolition of that law which demanded
a freehold qualification of negro voters. He saw the
bitter injustice of the law, and recommended that negroes be admitted to the exercise of the same rights
accorded to white men. The manly courage which
he displayed in this recommendation can never be
forgotten, so long as humane and generous hearts
beat upon American soil. One of the noblest of his
official acts, however, we have yet to relate. The
governor of Virginia made a requisition upon him for
the surrender of men accused of assisting certain
slaves to escape from their owners. tlie refused to
comply with the demand, uponI the. ground that the
article in the constitution authorizing a demand of
fugitives from  justice, contemplated  only  crimes
287 
MODERN AGITATORS.
which were such by the universal laws of the states,
and by the general opinion of the civilized world.
Aiding a slave to escape from oppression was an act
of humanity, and as the laws of New York did not
acknowledge it to be a crime, he did not feel authorized to surrender the accused.  A long controversy
was the result of this righteous decision, and retaliatory measures were tried by Virginia, but Governor
Seward remained firm to the end.
In 1847, Mr. Seward defended John Van Zandt,
who was accused of aiding the escape of slaves from
their master, at the bar of the Supreme Court of the
United States. His argument made on that occasion,
is one of the most eloquent ever delivered at Washington. Hie would accept no compensation for his
services. Still later, in the famous Van Nest murder
case, Mr. Seward proved the depth of his philanthropy
and the loftiness of his courage.
While riding once upon the banks of the beautiful
Owasco Lake, the friend who was with us pointed
out a pleasant farm-house as the scene a few years
ago of a terrible murder, and not far distant in a
lonely churchyard, we saw the graves of the victims.
A negro by the name of William Freeman, at the
age of sixteen, was sent to the state prison for five
years for alleged horse stealing. He declared his
innocence of the charge, and it has since been admitted by those who tried him, that he was undoubtedly
288 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
innocent of the crime; but through the perjury of
the real thief he was sent to prison. The injustice of
his punishment, coupled with barbarous treatment
while confined in prison, resulted in an insanity which
bordered upon idiocy, and when at last his term expired, he went forth into the world demented, with
only this one idea in his brain-that the world had
deeply wronged him. One night, without any provocation, this lunatic negro entered the house of a Mr.
Van Nest, and murdered him, his wife, a child, and
the mother of Mr. Van Nest, a woman of seventy.
He was arrested the next day, and such was the terrible indignation of the people of Auburn, that it was
with great difficulty that they were prevented from
hanging him upon the spot. Freeman, like an idiot,
as he was, confessed, and laughed at the murder. This
only the more enraged the populace. They clamored
for his blood. Mr. Seward had acquired a great reputation for defending successfully accused criminals,
and it at once was feared that he would be employed
in the defense of the crazy negro.  Such was the excitement against him-he was absent at the souththat his law partners were obliged publicly to promise that he would not defend the accused.   Upon
his return, his family expected the populace would
outrage his person. HIe saw the feeling was intense
upon the subject-that it was predetermined that the
negro should be hung. He made the necessary ex            M                            19
289 
IIODERN AGITATORS.
aminations, and became thoroughly convinced that
Freeman was insane when he committed the awful
deed, but hoping that other counsel would appear
for the wretched man, he did not offer his services.
The day of trial came, and the people boasted that
no lawyer dared to defend the murderer. The district attorney read the indictment against the man,
and asked if he plead guilty or not guilty.  His only
reply was "ha!"  He was asked if he was ready
for trial; he " did'nt know "-if he had counsel; he
"didn't know." The poor idiot had no conception
of what was transpiring.  His life was being taken
from him, and he knew it not. Mr. Seward was present, and the sight of the poor, friendless, hated, idiot
negro, so wrought upon his heart, that he burst into
tears, but shortly recovering his calmness he arose
and sqid, "M3ay it please the Court: I shall remain
counselfor theprisoner untilhis death." And for two
weeks, amid the most depleting weather, did he,
without any compensation, give himself up body and
soul for the defense of the poor negro.  He was insulted by his townsmen, he became instantly unpopular-he who a few days before was the pride of Auburn; yet he flinched not a hair from his duty, but
worked on bravely and nobly to the end. The well
known John Yan Buren was the opposing counsel,
and with the predetermination of the jury, it was not
difficult for him to win a verdict. In Mr. Seward's
290 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
argument, which will ever be one of the brightest of
his laurels, both as an advocate and a philanthropist,
he, in allusion to the fact that he had lost his popularity in Auburn, and indeed throughout the state, for
his defense of Freeman, said most eloquently:
"In due time, gentlemen of the Jury, when I shall have
paid the debt of nature, my remains will rest here in your
midst, with those of my kindred and neighbors. It is very
possible they may be unhonored, neglected, spurned!   But
perhaps years hence, when the passion and excitement which
now agitate this community shall have passed away-some
wandering stranger-some lone exile-some Indian, some Negro may erect over them an humble stone, and thereon this epitaph,' HE WAS FAITHFUL.'
Freeman was convicted of murder, but an appellate court granted a new trial. But before it came
on the prisoner died. A post mnortem examination
was made by the most distinguished physicians in the
state, who reported that the brain of the negro was one
mass of disease, and indeed nearly destroyed. Thus it
was proved incontestibly, that Mr. Seward had from
the beginning been right, and that he was entitled
to the warmest thanks of all humane men for the
courageous and noble course which he had pursued.
The people of Auburn restored him to his former
place in their affections, and he was, if possible,
more popular throughout the state, than he was be
291 
MODERN AGITATORS.
fore the trial. iHe had proved that he was not a
demagogue, for he had given up reputation, friends,
everything, to save a despised negro. In his argument he fearlessly rebuked the inhuman spirit of
caste which shuts out the free black man from the
sympathies of white people, though conscious that the
expression of such sentiments must identify him with
that unpopular class of men called "abolitionists."
As a writer, Mr. Seward occupies a high position.
He writes clearly, comprehensively, and convincingly.
If he does not ornament his style luxuriantly, it is the
more impressive from its simplicity. It has directness and force, and his diction is always copious. Fit
language is always at his command. iHe exhausts a
subject. iHe does not indeed like some dissect in
its every part-he disdains generally to employ much
of his. time over mere trifles-but he passes over a
subject as an eagle flies over a province, not stopping
to alight at every rocky height, not peering in at every farm-house window, but sailing majestically over
all, viewing everything, scanning keenly river and
height, village and city, the sheep browsing in the
quiet pasture-the gathering tempest far away in the
horizon.
Mr. Seward has paid, we believe, comparatively
little attention to merely polite literature. That is,
his earnest attention has been directed to politics and
statesmanship. Yet in the volume of his life (pub
292 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
lished by Redfield) and in other places may be found
brilliant proofs of his abilities as an author. His description of his European travels are exceedingly
well written. We will give a specimen of his style,
by extracting two short pieces of his-one upon the
death of Adams, the other upon the death of Napoleon. The contrast is finely drawn.
DEATH OF J. Q. ADAMS.
The thirtieth congress assembled in this conjuncture, and
the debates are solemn, earnest, and bewildering. Steam and
lightning, which have become docile messengers, make the
American people listeners to this high debate, and anxiety and
interest, intense and universal, absorb them  all.  Suddenly
the council is dissolved. Silence is in the capitol, and sorrow
has thrown its pall over the land. What new event is this?
Has some Cromwell closed the legislative chambers? or has
some Cesar, returning from his distant conquests, passed the
Rubicon, seized the purple, and fallen in the senate, beneath
the swords of self-appointed executioners of his country's vengeance? No! Nothing of all this. What means, then, this
abrupt and fearful silence? What unlooked-for calamity has
quelled the debates of the senate, and calmed the excitement
of the people? An old man, whose tongue once indeed was
eloquent, but now through age had well nigh lost its cunning,
has fallen into the swoon of death. He was not an actor in
the drama of conquest-nor had his feeble voice yet mingl,ed
in the lofty arguments
293
*t 
MODERN AGITATORS.
'A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent,
Was on the visioned future bent.'
In the very act of rising to debate, he fell into the arms of
conscript fathers of the republic. A long lethargy supervened
and oppressed his senses.  Nature rallied the wasting powers,
on the very verge of the grave, for a very brief space. The
rekindled eye showed that the re-collected mind was clear, calm
and vigorous. Hlis weeping famnily and his sorrowing coinpeers
were there. lie surveyed the scene, and knew at once its fatal import. He had left no duty unperformed; he had no wish
unsatisfied, no ambition unattained; no regret, no sorrow, no
fear, no remorse. Hie could not shake off the dews of death
that gathered on his brow. He could not pierce the thick
shades that rose up before him. But he knew that eternity
lay close by the shores of time. lie knew that his Redeemer
lived. Eloquence, even in that hour, inspired him with his ancient sublimity of utterance.   "THIs," said the dying man,
" THIS IS. THE END OF EARTH." lie paused for moment, and
then added, "I AM CONTENT." Angels might well draw aside
the curtain of the skies to look down on such a scene-a scene
that approximated even to that scene of unapproachable sublimity, not to be recalled without reverence, when in mortal
agony, ONE who  spake as never man  spake, said, "It  Is
FINISHED."'
DEATH OF NAPOLEON.
He was an emperor. But he saw around him a mother,
brothers and sisters, not ennobled; whose humble state reminded him and the world, that he was born a plebeian; and
294
0 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
he had no heir to wait for the imperial crown. He scourged
the earth again, and again fortune smiled on him even in
his wild extravagance. He bestowed kingdoms and principalities upon his kindred-put away the devoted wife of his
youthful days, and another, a daughter of Hapsburgh's imperial house, joyfully accepted his proud alliance. Offspring gladdened his anxious sight; a diadem was placed on its infant
brow, and it received the homage of princes even in its cradle.
Now he was indeed a monarch-a legitimate monarch-a monarch by divine appointment-the first of an endless succession
of monarchs.  But there were other monarchs who held sway
in the earth. He was not content; he would reign with his
kindred alone. He gathered new and greater armies from his
own land-from subjugated lands.  He called forth the young
and brave-one from every household-from the Pyrenees to
the Zuyder-Zee-from  Jura to the ocean.   He marshaled
them into long and majestic columns, and went forth to seize
that universal dominion, which seemed almost within his grasp.
But ambition had tempted fortune too far. The nations of the
earth resisted, repelled, subdued, surrounded him. The pageant
was ended. The crown fell from his presumptuous head. The
wife who had wedded him in his pride, forsook him when the
hour of fear came upon him. His child was ravished from his
sight. His kinsmen were degraded to their first estate, and he
was no longer emperor, nor consul, nor general, nor even a cit
izen, but an exile and a prisoner on a lonely island, in the midst
of the wild Atlantic. Discontent attended him here. The
wayward man fretted out few long years of his yet unbroken
manhood, looking off at the earliest dawn and in the evening's
295 
MODERN AGITATORS.
latest twilight, toward that distant world that had only just elu
ded his grasp.  His heart corroded.  Death came, not unlooked
for, though it came even then unwelcome.  He was stretched
on his bed within the fort which constituted his prison. A few
fast and faithful friends stood around, with the guards who re joiced that the hour of relief from long and wearisome watch ing was at hand. As his strength wasted away, delirium
stirred up the brain from its long and inglorious inactivity.
The pageant of ambition returned. He was again a lieuteu ant, a general, a consul, an emperor of France. He filled again
the throne of Charlemagne.   His kindred pressed around him,
again invested with the pompous pageantry of royalty. The
daughter of the long line of kings again stood proudly by his
side, and the sunny face of his child shone out from beneath
the diadem that encircled its flowing locks. The marshals of
Europe awaited his commands. The legions of the old guard
were in the field, their scarred faces rejuvenated, and their
ranks, thinned in many battles, replenished. Russia, Prussia,
Denmark, and England, gathered their mighty hosts to give
him battle. Once more he mounted his impatient charger,
and rushed forth to conquest. He waved his sword aloft and
cried,"TETE DE'ARME!" The feverish vision broke-the mockery was ended. The silver cord was loosened, and the warrior fell back upon his bed a lifeless corpse.  THIS WAS  THE
END OF EARTH.  THE CORSICAN WAS NOT CONTENT.
As a political writer, Mr. Seward ranks high.   As
an orator, he will by no means compare with such
men as Phillips, Soule6, and other of the most brilliant
296 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
of our native orators. We mean, of course, in the
mere graces of oratory. In lofty eloquence he has few
equals among the great men of America, if he has
any; but his inanner of speaking is too dry and
passive.
"His rapid idealization, his oriental affluence,
though not vagueness, of expression, and the Ciceronian flow of his language, proceeding not'from the
heat of youth, or the vapors of wine,' but from the
exceedingly fertility of his imagination,-combine to
render him an interesting speaker. Yet his enunciation is neither clear nor distinct, and the tones of his
voice often grate harshly upon the ear. lie is not
devoid of grace, however; he is calm and dignified,
but earnest.
"His style is elegant, rather than neat; elaborate,
rather than finished.  It possesses a sparkling vivacity, but is somewhat deficient in energetic brevity.
It is not always easy, for there is more labor than art;
but if the wine has an agreeable bouquet, the connoisseur delights to have it linger. Like young
D'Israeli, whose political position in some respects
resembles his own, he has occasionally a tendency to
verbose declamation, a natural predilection, perhaps,
for Milesian floridness and hyperbole, and, like Napoleon, a love for gorgeous parad6xes. But, in general, his words are well chosen, and are frequently
more eloquent than the ideas. His sentences are con
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MODERN AGITATORS.
structed with taste; they have often the brilliancy of
Mirabeau, and the glowing fervor of Fox."
We must finally speak of MIr. Seward as a statesman. He is thought by many to be the first of living
American statesmen. We are not disposed either to
admit or deny this. Hie is certainly among the very
first not only in America, but the world. He has the
breadth, the calmness, the comprehensiveness of a
great statesman. He is not inclined to radicalism.
Hie is naturally, we think, a conservative. Hie does
not strike out boldly into new paths. He clings to
old truths, wages warfare against those who would
forget the ancient faith. He never flies before an enemy however powerful. He holds to his principles
on all occasions. Whatever he has been he is to-day,
but he is slow to see the practicability of a new system of tactics. He has never in the senate, however
strong the temptation, spoken a word against his old
anti-slavery principles. Yet when thousands of his
whig friends saw the necessity of sinking mere whig
issues, and joining in a great and new party of freedom, Mr. Seward clung to the dead garments of the
ancient organization, and ran imminent risk of terrible ruin. Was this an indication of foresight? of po.
litical sagacity?  We think not.
Mr. Seward opposed the Mexican war, eloquently
and earnestly-and when it was declared, wished it
prosecuted vigorously. If this was wise statesman
298 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
ship, it was not good morality. If it was a wicked
war, it should not have been declared, nor carried on
after declared.
In 1849 Mr. Seward was chosen to represent the
state of New York in the United States senate.  In
the great compromise struggle, fMr. Seward remained
true to freedom and the north, when so many great
men proved traitors. This conduct through that terrible struggle will, in the pages of history be described,
that unborn generations may admire. One of his noblest speeches in the senate upon this question, was
delivered March 11, 1850. iHe said:
" But it is insisted that the admission of California shall be
attended by a compromise of questions which have arisen out
of slavery!
"I am opposed to any such compromise in any and all the
forms it which it has been proposed.   Because, while admitting
the purity and the patriotism of all from whom it is my misfortune to differ, I think all legislative compromises radically
wrong, and essentially vicious. They involve the surrender of
the exercise of judgment and the conscience on distinct and separate questions, at distinct and separate times, with the indispensable advantages it affords for ascertaining the truth. They
involve a relinquishment of the right to reconsider in futurethe
decision of the present, on questions prematurely anticipated.
And they are a usurpation as to future questions of the province of future legislators.
"Sir, it seems to me as if slavery had laid its paralyzing
299 
MODERN AGITATORS.
hand upon myself, and the blood were coursing less freely than
its wont through my veins, when I endeavor to suppose that
such a compromise has been effected, and my utterance forever
is arrested upon all the great questions, social, moral, and political, arising out of a subject so important, and yet so incoinprehensible.  What am I receive in this compromise?   Freedom in California. It is well; it is a noble acquisition; it is
worth a sacrifice. But what am I to give as an equivalent?
A recognition of a claim to perpetuate slavery in the District
of Columbia; forbearance towards more stringent laws colncerning the arrest of persons suspected of being slaves found
in the free states; forbearance from the proviso of freedom in
the charters of new territories. None of the plans of compromise offered demand less than two, and most of them insist
on all these conditions. The equivalent then is, some portion
of liberty, some portion of human rights in one region for liberty in another."
In this speech occurred Mr. Seward's famous enunciation of the HINGHE LAW doctrine. We will give
the extract:
"It is true indeed that the national domain is ours.  It is
true it was acquired by the valor and with the wealth of the
whole nation. But we hold, nevertheless, no arbitrary power
over it. We hold no arbitrary power over anything, whether
acquired by law or seized by usurpation. The constitution
regulates our stewardship; the constitution devotes the domain
to union, to justice, to defense, to welfare and to liberty. BuT
THERE IS A HIIGHER LAW  THAN THE CONSTITUTION,  WHICH
300 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
nEGULATES OUR AUTHORITY OVER THE DOMAIN, AND DEVOTES IT
TO THE SAME NOBLE PURPOSES. The territory is a part, no inconsiderable part, of the common heritage of mankind, bestowed upon them by the Creator of the universe. We are
his stewards, and must so discharge our trust, as to secure in
the highest attainable degree their happiness. This is a state,
and we are deliberating for it, just as our fathers deliberated in
establishing the institutions we enjoy. Whatever superiority
there is in our condition and hopes over those of any other
'kingdom' or' estate,' is due to the fortunate circumstance that
our ancestors did not leave things to'take their chance,' but
that they'added amplitude and greatness' to our commonwealth'by introducing such ordinances, constitutions, and customs as were wise.' We in our turn have succeeded to the
same responsibilities, and we cannot approach the duty before
us wisely or justly, except we raise ourselves to the great consideration of how we can most certainly'sow greatness to our
posterity and successors.'
"And now the simple, bold, and even awful question which
presents itself to us is this: Shall we, who are founding institutions, social and political, for countless millions; shall we,
who know by experience the wise and the just, and are free to
choose them, and to reject the erroneous and unjust; shall we
establish human bondage, or permit it by our sufferance to be
established? Sir, our forefathers would not have hesitated an
hour. They found slavery existing here, and they left it only
because they could not remove it. There is not only no free
state which would now establish it, but there is no slave state
which, if it had had the free alternative, as we now have, would
301 
MODERN AGITATORS.
have founded slavery. Indeed, our revolutionary predecessors
had precisely the same question before them in establishing an
organic law, under which the states of Ohio, Michigan, Illinois,
Wisconsin, and Iowa have since come into the Union, and they
solemnly repudiated and excluded slavery from those states
forever."
In a speech made in the senate, July 2, 1850, occurs the following eloquent passage:
"Still it is replied that the slavery question must be settled.
That question cannot be settled by this bill. Slavery and free
dom are conflicting systems, brought together by the union of
the states, not neutralized, nor even harmonized. Their antag onism is radical, and therefore perpetual. Compromise continues conflict, and the conflict involves unavoidably all ques.
tions of national interest-questions of revenue, of internal improvement, of industry, of commerce, of political rivalry, and
even all questions of peace and of war. In entering the career
of conquest you have kindled to a fierce heat the fires you seek
to extinguish, because you have thrown into them the fuel of
propagandism. We have the propagandism of slavery to enlarge the slave market, and to increase slave representation in
congress, and in the electoral colleges-for the bramble ever
seeks power, though the olive, the fig, and the vine, refuse it;
and we have the propagandism of freedom to counteract those
purposes. Nor can this propagandism be arrested on either
side. The sea is full of exiles, and they swarm over our land.
Emigration from Europe and from Asia, from Polynesia even,
from the free states, and from the slave states, goes on, and
so.* 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
will go on, IN OBEDIENCE TO LAWS WHICH I SHOULD SAY WERE
HIGHER THAN THE CONSTITUTION, IF ANY SUCH LAWS WERE ACKNOWLEDGED  HERE.  And I may be allowed here to refer
those who have been scandalized by the allusion to such laws
to a single passage by an author whose opinions did not err
on the side of superstition or of tyranny:'If it be said that
every nation ought in this to follow their own constitutions,
we are at an end of our controversies; for they ought not to
be followed unless they are rightly made; they cannot be
rightly made if they are contrary to the universal law of God
and nature.' (Discourses on Government, by Algernon Sydney, chap. 1, p. 48.) I spoke of emigrants; and wherever
those emigrants go-whether they go from necessity or of
choice-they form continuous, unbroken, streaming processions
of colonists, founders of states, builders of nations. And when
colonies are planted, states are founded, or nations built, labor
is there the first and indispensable element, and it begins and
prosecutes'to the end its strife for freedom and power. While
the sovereignty of the territories remains here, the strife will
come up here to be composed.   You may slay the Wilmot,
proviso in the senate-chamber, and bury it beneath the capitol
to-day; the dead corse, in complete steel, will haunt your le gislative halls to-morrow. When the strife is ended in the ter ritories you now possess, it will be renewed on new fields,
north as well as south, to fortify advantages gained, or to re,
trieve losses incurred, for both of the parties well know that
there is' Yet in that word Hereafter.'
"Senators have referred us to the promise of peace heralded
in the Missouri compromise. Sir, that prophecy is but half
303 
MODERN AGITATORS.
its journey yet. The annexation of Texas, the invasion of
Mexico, this prolonged struggle over California, this desperate
contest for the sands and snows of New Mexico and Deseret,
are all within the scope and limits of the prediction; and so
are the strifes yet to come over ice-bound regions beyond the
St. Lawrence and sun-burnt plains beneath the tropics.
"But while this compromise will fail of all its purposes, it
will work out serious and lasting evils. All such compromises
are changes of the constitution made in derogation of the constitution. They render it uncertain in its meaning, and impair
its vigor as well as its sanctions. This compromise finds the
senate in wide divergence from the house of representatives by
reason of the undue multiplication of feeble, consumptive states,
effected by former compromises of the same sort. * * *
"'Sir, the agitations which alarm us are not signs of evils to
come, but mild efforts of the commonwealth for relief from
mischiefs past.
"There is a way, and one way only, to put them at rest.
Let us go back to the ground where our forefathers stood.
While we leave slavery to the care of the states where it exists, let us inflexibly direct the policy of the federal government to circumscribe its limits and favor its ultimate extinguishment. Let those who have this misfortune entailed upon
them instead of contriving how to maintain an equilibrium
that never had existence, consider carefully how, at some
time-it may be ten, or twenty, or even fifty years hence
-by some means, by means all their own, and without our
aid, without sudden change or violent action, they may bring
about the emancipation of labor, and its restoration to its just
301: 
WILLIAM H. SEWARD.
dignity and power in the state. Let them take hope to themselves, give hope to the free states, awaken hope throughout
the world. They will thus anticipate only what must happen
at some time, and what they themselves must desire, if it can
come safely, and as soon as it can come without danger. Let
them do only this, and every cause of disagreement will cease
?fnmediately and forever. We shall then not merely endure
each other, but we shall be reconciled together and shall realize once more the concord which results from mutual league,
united councils, and equal hopes and hazards in the most sublime and beneficent enterprise the earth has witnessed. The
fingers of the powers above would tune the harmony of such
a peace."
As a senator, Mr. Seward's uniform urbanity, his
self-possession and tact as a debater-the many able,
clear, and elaborate arguments, which he has made
upon great public questions, have deepened to enthusiasm the attachment of his friends, and correspondingly excited the opposition and the fears of his political foes. On a recent occasion-February 6, 1855
-on the question of his reelection to the United
States senate, this feeling was especially manifest;
but his election, on that occasion, by a large majority, is at once a flattering endorsement of his course
in the national councils, and an evidence of the deep
and ardent devotion of his political friends.
It is perhaps useless to speculate upon the future;
but we sometimes imagine that Mr. Seward will yet
20 
MODERN AGITATORS.
take a postion before the American people immeasurably superior to any which he has yet filled. The
spirit of slavery is aggressive. Each day is a witness
to its hungry cry for blood, and each day is witness
to its triumphs. So far, the north has succumbed,
not without ado, but she has invariably in the end
succumbed. But it will not be so always. A profound reaction will by-and-by take place- perhaps
next year, perhaps ten years hence-but it will surely
come, and a great man will be needed for such a crisis. No compromiser, but a statesman of the first
order; calm, generous, but sternly resolved upon the
divorce of the federal government from all connection with negro slavery.  We cannot tell if Mr. Seward is great enough for such a crisis, but we have
sometimes thought that such would be his destiny.
306 
'4,
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
WE have nothing biographical to say respecting Mr.
Lowell; we know not that his history presents any
striking facts. He is the son of a distinguished Boston divine; he graduated at Harvard, and with high
honors, and he wrote excellent poetry at an early
age.
But Lowell is a remarkable man and poet. He
lacks the fire of Whittier; he is possibly inferior to
many American poets in important respects, but that
he is one of the first poets of this age no man will deny.
Hie is sincerely a reformer; his sympathies are entirely with the oppressed and down-trodden; he has
always been true to the cause of the negro slave, and
many of his poems prove it. Some of his poems are
exceedingly beautiful, while others are full of grand
thoughts, which strike upon the ear and heart, like
the booming cannon-shot, which tells that an ardently
desired conflict has commenced.  This class of poems
are less fiery than Whittier's reform poetry, but a
very few of them are, we have sometimes thought,
characterized by more grandeur than any of Whit 
MODERN AGITATORS.
tier's upon the same subject. One of the most beautiful of Lowell's poems is that entitled " TSe fiorlorn."
It betrays the nature of his religion and philosophy;
at least, it proves that his sympathies are with the
poor and friendless. To us, it seems that this poem
can never die-that some of its stanzas are unsur
passed by any modern poetry.
THE FORLORN.
THE night is dark, the stinging sleet,
Swept by the bitter gusts of air,
Drives whistling down the lonely street,
And stiffens on the pavement bare.
The street-lamps flare and struggle dim
Through the white sleet-clouds as they pass,
Or, governed by a boisterous whim,
Drop down and rattle on the glass.
One poor, heart-broken, out-east girl
Faces the east wind's searching flaws,
And, as about her heart they whirl,
Her tattered cloak more tightly draws.
The flat brick walls look cold and bleak,
Her bare feet to the side-walk freeze;
Yet dares she yet a shelter seek,
Though faint with hunger and disease.
The sharp storm cuts her forehead bare,
And, piercing through her garments thin,
Beats on her shrunken breast, and there
Makes colder the cold heart within.
308 
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
She lingers where a ruddy glow
Streams outward through an open shutter,
Giving more bitterness to woe,
More loneliness to desertion utter.
One half the cold she had not felt
Until she saw this gush of light
Spread warmly forth, and seemed to melt
Its slow way through the dead'ning night
She hears a woman's voice within,
Singing sweet words her childhood knew,
And years of misery and sin
Furl off and leave her heaven blue.
Her freezing heart, like one who sinks
Out-wearied in the drifting snow,
Drowses to deadly sleep, and thinks
No longer of its hopeless woe:
Old fields, and clear blue summer days,
Old meadows, green with grass and trees,
That shimmer through the trembling bare,
And whiten in the western breeze;
Old faces-all the friendly past
Rises within her heart again,
And sunshine from her childhood cast
Makes summer of the icy rain.
Enhaloed by a mild, warm glow,
From all humanity apart,
She hears old footsteps wandering slow
Through the lone chambers of her heart.
Outside the porch below the door,
Her cheek upon the cold, hard stone,
She lies, no longer foul and poor,
No longer dreary and alone.
309 
MODERN AGITATORS.
Next morning, something heavily
Against the opening door did weigh,
And there, from sin and sorrow free,
A woman on the threshold lay.
A smile upon the wan lips told
That she had found a calm release,
And that, from out the want and cold,
The song had borne her soul in peace;
For, whom the heart of man shuts out,
Straightway the heart of God takes in,
And fences them all round about
With silence mid the world's loud din;
And one of his great charities
Is music, and it doth not scorn
To close the lids upon the eyes
Of the polluted and forlorn.
Far was she from her childhood's home,
Farther in guilt had wandered thence,
Yet thither it had bid her come
To die in maiden innocence.
Mr. Lowell has shown that he is a wit and humorist in the publication of his " Biglow Papers.". He
is the only American who has attempted to laugh
down the oppressors of the slave-the propagandists
of slavery. Some of the Biglow poems are capital
specimens of Yankee wit and humor. They are of
course written purposely in the rough, exaggerated,
Yankee style. iHosea gives his ideas of war as
follows:
sio 
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
"Ez for war, I call it murder,   There you hev it plain an' flat;
I don't want to go no furder
Than my testyment for that;
"God haz sed so plump and fairly,
It's ez long ez it is broad,
An' you've gut to git up airly
Ef you want to take in GoL"
Occasionally in the midst of fun, a fine, grand verse
occurs, which puts away all laughter from the face.
For instance, the following verse from the same poem
from which the foregoing was extracted:
"Massachusetts, God forgive her,
She's a kneelin' with the rest,
She that ough' to ha' clung forever
In her grand, old eagle nest;
She that ough' to stand so fearless
While the wracks are round her hurled,
Holdin' up a beacon peerless
To the oppressed of all the world I "
One of the most popular of Lowell's Biglow poems, is that upon John P. Robinson. In it General
Cushing gets the following hit:
"Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man:
He's been on all sides that give places or pelf;
But consistency still woz a part of his plan,He's  been true to one party-an' that is himself;
So John P.
Robinson he
Sez he shall vote for Gineral C.
311 
MODERN AGITATORS.
"Gineral C. he goes in fer the war,
He don't vally principle more'n an old cud;
Wut did God make us raytonal creeters fer,
But glory an' gunpowder, plunder an' blood?
So John P.
Robinson he
Sez he shall vote for Gineral C.
"Parson Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life
Thet the Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats,
An' marched round in front of drum an' a fife,
To git some on'em office, an' some on'em votes;
But John P.
Robinson he
Sez they don't know everything down in Judee."
Here is a capital hit at a certain class of men:
"I'm willin' a man should go tollable strong
Agin wrong in the abstract, fer thet kind of wrong
Is ollers unpoplar an' never gets pitied,
* Because its a crime no one ever committed;
But he mustn't be hard on partickler sins,
Coz then he'll be kickin' the people's own shins."
"The debate in the Sennit," is a humorous poem,
one or two stanzas of which we will copy:
"' Here we stan' on the Constitution, by thunder
Its a fact o' which there's bushels o' proofs;
Fer how could we trample on't so, I wonder,
Eft wornt that it's ollers under our hoofs?.'
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;' Human rights haint no more
Right to come on this floor.
No mor'n the man in the moon,' sez he.
312 
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
"'The North haint no kind o' bisness with nothin,
An' you've no idee how much bother it saves;
We aint none riled by their frettin' and frothin,'
We're used to layin' the string on our slaves'
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;      Sez Mister Foote
'I should like to shoot
The holl gang, by the gret horn spoon,' sez he.
*      *       *      *      *       *
"' The masses ough' to labor an' we lay on soffies,
Thet's the reason I want to spread Freedom's aree;
It puts all the cunninest on us in office,
And reelises our Maker's orig'nal idee,'
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;' That's ez plain,' sez Cass
'Ez that some one's an ass,
It's as clear as the sun is at noon,' sez he.
"'Slavery's a thing thet depends on complexion,
It's God's law that fetters on black skins don't chafe;
Ef brains woz to settle it (horrid reflection 1)
Wich of our honnable body'd be safe?'
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;      Sez Mister HIannegan
Afore he began agin,
'Thet exception is quite oppertoon,' sez he.
"' Gen'le Cass, Sir, you needn't be twitchin' your collar,
Your metit's quite clear by the dut on your knees,
At the North we don't make no distinctions of color;
You can all take a lick at our shoes w'n you please,'
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;      Sez Mister Jarnagin
'They wont hev to larn agin,
They all on'em know the old toon,' sez he.
N
313 
MKODERN AGATOFM.
"'The slavery quetion aint no ways bewilderin'
North and South hev one int'rest, its plain to a glane;
Northern men, like us patriarchs, dont sell their ehildrin,
But they d sell themselves, ef they git a good chanee.'
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;     Sez Atherton here
' This is gittin severe
I wish I could dive like a loon,' so huf"
But we can give the reader no fair idea of the pe.
culiar merit of the "Biglow Papers " in our brief extracts. Nor have we pretended to quote the best of
Lowell's reform poetry; to gain a just idea of his talents and position, the reader must-if he has not
already-read his books, a luxury such as one rarely
enjoys.  We have attempted no sketch of Lowellno criticism-but have rather penned a few desultory
thoughts upon him and his poetry, wishing at the
same time to preserve among these papers one of the
most touching and beautifull poems which sympathy
for the poor and outcast has brought into being.
314   
HORACE GREELEY.*
LAUG[ED at by the pomatumed and conceited fops
on Broadway; hissed at by the devotees of cotton in
Wall-street; hated intensely by all demagogues and
workers of iniquity, and disliked by mouldy conserva tives, whether in church or state, Horace Greeley is
nevertheless one of the greatest men in America.
He posesses an intellect acute and powerful; a con science which is not seared; a great heart, and a
generous hand.  We  know of no living American
who can at all compare with him as a writer of vig orous English, in that particular department of litera ture which he long ago made his own. He has all
of Cobbett's graphic power without his brutality-he
*has all of the earnest sympathy for the unfortunate
of every race, clime, and color which characterizes
some of the most popular of transatlantic authors,
without their sentimentalism. Some of his editorials,
dashed off with his heart on fire, will compare fa.
vorably with some of the best of the modern thun derer, the Lon  Times.  The leaders of the Times
are more polished perhaps, are certainly more classi
*We are indebted to Parton's admirable Life of Horace  ~eZW
ft mBy        of the fcte si thi   ket 
MODERN AGITATORS.
cal, but in tremendous power of expression, they cannot surpass some of the best of the editorials of Hiorace Greeley. With a shrewd, clear intellect, an astonishingly vigorous style, and a heart easily wrought
up to that degree of passion necessary to the production of the best kind of writing, he fears not the quill
of any man living. Bennett may iterate and reiterate
his senseless gibberish in reference to Greeley's
"isms," his "shocking bad hat," and the " old gray
surtout "-he may affect to laugh at " the philosopher," but he fears and hates him as lvilton's devils
feared and hated their heavenly combatants.  So it
is everywhere.  The enemies of Horace Greeleyand he has many and bitter ones-know and feel his
power, though they often affect the contrary. Let
him be careless, or even slovenly in his costume, say
that he does ride a vast number of "hobbies," not
one of his enemies dare meet him in fair combat in
reference to those "hobbies."  We  by no means
swallow everything which is pronounced good by
Horace Greeley, but we are at the same time perfectly aware that among that large class of demagogues and unprincipled editors who make it a point
to libel and ridicule him upon every possible occasion, there is not a man who could hold an hour's argument with him upon the most untenable of all his
"isms," without securing to himself a severe defeat.
Although Mr. Greeley has long had the reputation
316 
HORACE GREELEY.
of being a shrewd politician, we think that his forte
does not lie in that direction. He writes best as a
philanthropist and reformer, and it is as such that he
will be known hereafter. When pleading the cause
of the poor, degraded inebriate, or the chained and
scourged bondman, he rises into his true manhood,
and becomes most graphic and eloquent in his language. Hiis terse and fiery sentences fall like lightning upon the head of the rumseller or stealer of
men, and when picturing the squalor and wretched
ness of the drunkard's home, the misery of his wife
and little ones, or the agony of the slave-mother from
whose arms her child has been torn, he pours forth a
genuine pathos which gives to him instantly the
hearts of thousands.
We have said that Mr. Greeley has bitter enemies;
it is true,-but no man has warmer or more devoted
friends. There are men who have the blood of ancient and renowned families in their veins, men of
immense wealth, men of high station, of great intellect, who count it an honor to be intimate with that
carelessly-attired,  bald-headed  editor.   There are
men who pride themselves upon their gentility who
would walk down Broadway arm in arm with Greeley, feeling honored and being honored by the temporary intimacy, though his boots were cowhide, and
his hat a half-dozen winters old. But the best, the
heartiest friends of the great editor are the workers
817 
MODERN AGITATORS.
of this country, the men who have made America
what she is. It is the intelligent farmers, the clearheaded mechanics, the teachers, the liberal and earnest clergymen, the reformers everywhere, who love
and appreciate him best. To them he is a tower of
strength, a city of refuge.  Many a reformer, when
ready to faint, has been cheered by the thought that
the most powerful editor in the country, day after
day writes his most vigorous articles for the drunkard
and the slave.  However much these men may in
the past have disliked his political writings, or his
political conduct, his philanthropic writings have won
their warm esteem for the author.
From these general remarks we turn to trace his
early history. It is a remarkable one; for the position which he has reached, as one of the first editors
of the.country, he has struggled for inch by inch.
His birth and parentage gave him none of those advantages for intellectual improvement that are now
afforded almost universally to every farmer's boy. The
district school, from which he obtained his first knowledge of books, was taught during the three or four
winter monkths by some young person who could
barely "pass examination" before the village minister and one or two functionaries, of perhaps much
less practical and rudimental education.    -
Mr. Greeley's maternal ancestors were  ScotohIrish, who migrated to this country in 1718, and se
31$ 
comACE   G  Rp.
tfled in various parts of New England. They were a
bold, enthusiastic, hardy set, and in them we find
many of those traits of character which, bequeathed
to Horace as his only legacy, have made him what
he is From the same source sprang Stark of revolutionary memory, and in the battle of Bennington perished two of Mr. Greeley's great uncles.  His pater.
nal ancestors were from Nottingham, England. They
were early noted for an obstinacy of purpose, which,
as it descended through successive generations to
Zaccheus Greeley, the father of Horace, may be said
to have softened to a tenacity hard to overcome
This is noticed not only in their will, but in every
mental and physical development. Their memory
was wonderful; they held on to life itself with a vigor
which is surprising.  Honest and courageous, though
generally poor, they left to posterity better than a
prince's patrimony-it was a character, an example
worthy of imitation.
Zaecheus Greeley and Mary Woodburn were married in 1807. They lived upon a small firm, the
fruits of their own industry, in Amherst, New Hampshire. Under circumstances rather inauspicious, in
February, 1811, Horace, the subject of our sketch,
was ushered into existence. Of seven children he
was the third, and, according to all accounts, he was
the most unlikely of the whole; his frame was light
aud   i constitution fragile; but both were to be
$19
0 
.MOIDERN AGITATORS.
toughened and invigorated by the hard work and the
fresh, mountain air, that can hardly be found except
among the hills and valleys of New England.  The
population of Amherst were, and are still, dependent
for the means of subsistence upon a soil sterile, stony
and forbidding, except to the gaze of those hardy
men who, from year to year, follow the plow over its
surface. These villages seem to be produced from
some stereotype plate of nature, and once planted,
are as unchangeable as the very hills upon which
they are located.  There will be found a "meetinghouse," (Congregational,) a "church," (Episcopal,)
and a store, where is sold everything in general and
nothing in particular.  Upon the open area, where
two or more roads meet, the school-house is located;
is in fact seemingly "turned out doors;" the people have indeed got to regard it as so much a nuisance, that, even now, when a new one is contemplated, the land requisite for a site can hardly be bought
for any price.  From this center the farm-houses are
placed in every direction, at first thickly, or at neighborly distances; but as you recede firom the church
they grow less frequent, until you are alone in the
forest or pasture lands. Such was the situation of
Horace Greeley's birth-place, and such the scene of
his early childhood; it was a place where destitution
and wealth are alike unknown, though every one has
for a contented mind an abundance; it was a corn
320 
HORACE GREELEY.
munity of honest, common-sense men - practical
farmers.
Horace, from his own earliest recollections, as well
as from the account of those who watched his infancy,
seems to have had a great predilection for books.
He says, in a letter to a friend, "I think I am indebted for my first impulse toward intellectual acquirement and exertion to my mother's grandmother,
who came out from Ireland among the first settlers of
Londonderry. She must have been well versed in
Irish and Scotch traditions, pretty well informed and
strong minded; and my mother being left motherless when quite young, her grandmother exerted great
influence over her mental development.   I was a
third child, the two preceding having died young,
and I presume my mother was more attached to me
on that ground, and the extreme feebleness of my
constitution.  My mind was early filled by her with
the traditions, ballads, and snatches of history she
had learned from her grandmother, which, though
conveying very distorted and  incorrect ideas of history, yet served to awaken in me a thirst for knowledge, and a lively interest for learning and history."
In more than the common and trite sense was he a
remarkable child.  We think it exceedingly interesting and instructive to linger a little here, and examine facts, to see, if possible, what were the elements
of a constitution which, under such circumstances,
N*                     21
321 
could develop so remarkable a man. His mother
was a stout, muscular woman, who esteemed it no
disgrace to hoe in the garden, or pitch and rake hay,
and it is asserted that she could cradle with equal
facility in the house and in the fields. She could do
more farm work in a day than a man, and then tell
stories all the evening. To the ladies of our day
these would hardly be considered recommendations,
but then they were considered a prodigious feat. She
was also quick at the spinning-wheel, and to its hum her
tongue kept a continual harmony, for the amusement
and benefit of her children. With eager avidity
Horace listened to the anecdotes which fell from her
lips, and here he first felt that intense yearning for
knowledge which afterward made him so indefatigable a student. At two years of age he pored over
the pages of the bible with great interest, and news
papers thrown upon the floor furnished him great
amusement; at three he could read any of the ordinary books designed for children; at four could read
anywhere, and with his book sidewise, upside down,
or in any position.  When oly three years old he
commenced attending the district school, and s8 eager
was he to be present, that if the snow was piled in
drifts, he prevailed upon his aunt to carry him to the
school-house. The great ambition. of those days
seems to have been to become the best speller in the
cool, and to this eminence our hero early aspired;
ns
3(- --- 
XOROE GREELEY.
once gained, he always maintained it. For this attainment he was admired by his mates, but seems
not to have been envied. He cared little for the ordinary sports which so much amuse children at this
age, but, as early as his fifth or sixth year, preferred
to steal away with a book to some secluded place,
and devour its contents. In other respects he was
quite singular; he never would fight a boy whatever 
might be the provocation; if another was disposed to
quarrel with him, he quietly stood and bore the infliction, which soon became more tiresome to the author than to the recipient. He is described at this
time as a delicate, flaxen-haired child, of a gentle and
retiring disposition, remarkable mainly for his attachment to books. This grew with his mind, till it became the all absorbing passion of his life. As he
grew older, he ransacked all the libraries in the neighborhood to satisfy his intellectual appetite; but so
far were they from satiating it, they seemed only to
act as stimulant    Re borrowed from the minister,
from the village collection, from every source in his
reach, till he became a walking encyclopedia. It
was a pe~uliarity of his manner of reading that he
became so absorbed in his book as to lose all apparent consciousness of what was going on about him.
Thus he stored his mind with that knowledge which
was to be so invaluable to him in after life. It was
the oaly education that nature offered him, and he
323 
MODERN AGITATORS.
gladly availed himself of it; so that when time came
for reflection, he possessed a perfect mine of informa.
tion, whose treasures were as exhaustless in extent as
they were difficult in acquisition.
There is hardly a boy in New England so small but
that upon the farm some work can be found simple
enough for his capacities. From the time that spring
opens, each season brings to the juvenile his proportion of light labor. The corn is to be dropped; the
team to be driven for the plow; the stock to be fed;
the horse to be ridden between the rows of corn and
potatoes, previous to hoeing; the gathering of apples,
and the various autumnal crops, afford work for all
sizes and all ages. Hiorace never evaded these for
his book, but by diligence in accomplishing his apportioned job, managed to save time for his favorite
indulgence, without interfering with the requirements
of the farm. Among sports he was fond only of
fishing, and his "luck" always excelled that of his
companions, "because that while they fished for fun,
he fished for fish."
When only ten years old his father became involved in debt, by signing the obligations of some of
his neighbors, was unable to meet the pecuniary demands upon him, and, as a consequence, his little
farm, house, and all that in the childhood of Hiorace
went to make up home, was swept away by creditors.
His father, a ruined bankrupt, was forced to flee the
324 
:OR.ACE GRELLEY.
state to avoid arrest, and left his family behind him.
After thirty years Hiorace discharged the last of these
obligations with honor.  The family, with the little
wreck cf their household furniture, followed the father to Westhaven, Vermont, where he had hired a
small house, and here they survived the first winter
in extreme indigence. In this new region the book
of Nature afforded more various beauties than at Amherst, and it was of all others the delight of the boy's
contemplation. Lake Champlain, with its grand and
beautiful environs, lay within three miles of the cottage and here and there among those hills, little
streams, like threads of silver, wound about, with an
occasional lake in their course, like a string of beads
about the neck of a child. The hills lifted their summits to the clouds, and their sloping sides, covered
with verdure, extended as far as the eye could reach.
The whole extent of country became a grand cradle
for Greeley's imagination.   The circumstances in
which the family were now placed compelled the utmost economy in every habit; the usual dress of
Horace was a hat, cotton shirt, and a pair of pants,
whose counterpart cannot be found, perhaps, upon
the poorest wayfarer of modern times.  I  is stated
that during his residence in Westhaven, his clothing
did not average a cost of three dollars a year, and
that until he was twenty-one probably not fifty dollars were expended upon his dress. Economy was
325 
SCIBER A.NAT6=.
the study of the family, and their teacher stern ne.
cessity. The habits which he was here forced to
learn will perhaps account for some of the apparent
eccentricities of his subsequent life. The family did
save something by their frugality, and it became a
ruling principle of Horace never to incur the slightest unnecessary expense while there remained a debt
unpaid. To his store of intellectual knowledge Horace added but little in Westhaven. The schools were
much the same as in Amherst, certainly no better;
and though for a while he attended regularly, he
could oftener inform the teacher than learn from him.
The text books also being much the same, his mind
found a respite and recreation in assisting boys older
than himself, and three times as large, to master dif
ficulties which he had solved long ago. At length
he became to the teachers somewhat of an annoyance,
by his inquisitiveness, which they were unable to
satisfy, and as a fia result mhe was kept at home.
Here he assisted the other children in their studies,
and oeentinued his reading. At the age of fifteen he
had thoroughly perused RIobiosn Causoe, the Ar&bian Nights, Shakspeare, Robertso's and Gldsmith's
histories, and as many romances ad works of fictioa
as he could lay hold of.
Horace had always cherished the idea of becoming
a printer.  His fther gave him but little encourage
ment, but at eleven permitted him to wek to Whit
826 
NO)TACE GR~?
hall, where a news paper was published, to talk with
the proprietor. That individual informed him that
he was too young to think of it, so he had nothing to
do but to return, work, and wait. With impatience
he did so for four years longer, when occurred a circumstance which caused an epoch in his history. In
the  rorthern Sectator, published at East Poultney,
Vermont, he saw an advertisement for an apprentice,
and determined to apply for the place.
In the spring of 1826, the gentlemanly editor of
that paper was hoeing potatoes in his garden one
morning, when in walked a boy, rudely clad, to inquire after the situation.  How little thought the editor of that journal, that the uncouth lad-the "devil"
-would one day not merely control a journal like his
own, but edit and manage the first journal in Amer
ica! Mr. Bliss thought he had indeed an unpromising
look, but upon asking him a few questions, discovered
that there was something more than ordinary about
him.  In the languge of that gentleman, 4r0n  entering into conversation, and a partial examination
of the qualification of my new applicant, it required
but little time to Fiser that he posasessed a mind
of no eommon order, and an aequired intelligence far
beyond his years.  He had had but little opportunity
at the common school, but he said'he had read
some,' and what he had read he well understood and
remembered.   In addition  to the ripe int-ge n-:
"It 
MODEPRN AGITATOI-k.
manifested by one so young, and whose instruction
had been so limited, there was a single-mindedness,
a truthfulness and common sense in what he said,
that at once commanded my regard." Terms were
subsequently arranged, and Horace bade farewell to
the farm, as a means of subsistence, forever. Shortly
afterward, his father removed with his family to Erie
county,Pennsylvania, and Horace, at the age of fifteen, was left to depend entirely upon his own resources for a living.
Horace felt that now was the time for him to gather
up his energies, and improve them to the best advantage. The long anticipated hour had arrived, and to
his new avocation lie eagerly applied himself. The
older apprentices utterly failed in their attempts to
divert him from his business, and again we have revealed the secret of hLs success; it was his untiring
application. During the intervals of work, he enmployed his leisure in reading the exchanges, and was
thus unconsciously obtaining political information,
which should hereafter be the substance of many a
brilliant editorial. He here joined a debating society, where he became noted for his accurate knowledge of political transactions, and it was soon discovered that in debate he was a powerful ally and dangerous opponent.   Against  all opposition, single
handed and alone, he would maintain his point with
an energy almost prophetic. Thus early was it no
328 
'IOuACE GIRELEY. l
ticed that when he was convinced of the truth of a
position, all attempts to dislodge him, without showing his error, were vain; he could not be "taken by
storm."
Hiis person presented much the same appearance as
when upon the farm. Hie never dressed for the debating meetings, for the very simple reason that he
had no better dress to put on. All that he could save
from the meager remuneration of fifty dollars per year
was sent to his father, who was struggling with poverty
in the western wilds of Pennsylvania. Twice during
his residence at East Poultney he visited the family,
making the passages on foot and by canal.  On one
of these trips he passed through Saratoga, and at a
subsequent period he writes this half humorous notice of his impressions of that watering place.
"Saratoga! bright city of the present! thou ever-during
one-and-twenty of existence! a wanderer by thy stately palaces and gushing fountains salutes thee! Years, yet not many,
have elapsed since, a weary roamer from a distant land, he
first sought thy health-giving waters. November's sky was
over earth and him, and more than all, over thee; and its chilling blasts made mournful melody amid the waving branches
of thy ever verdant pines. Then, as now, thou wert a city of
tombs, deserted by the gay throng whose light laughter reechoes so joyously through thy summer-robed arbors. But to
him, thou wert ever a fairy land, and he wished to quaff of
thy Hygeian treasures as of the nectar of the poet's fables.
329 
MODERN AGITATORS.
One long and earnest draught ere its sickening disrelish came
over him, and he flung down the cup in the bitterness of disap.
pointment and disgust, and sadly addressed him again to his
pedestrian journey. Is it ever thus with thy castles, Imagination? thy pictures, Fancy? thy dreams, 0 Hope?  Perish the
unbidden thought! A health in sparkling congress to the rainbow of life! even though its promise prove as shadowy as the
baseless fabric of a vision. Better even the dear delusion of
Hope-if delusion it must be-than the rugged reality of list
less despair. (I think I could do this better in rhyme, if I had
not trespassed in that line already. However, the cabin con.
versation of a canal packet is not remarkably favorable to po.
etry.) In plain prose, there is a great deal of mismanagement
about this same village of Saratoga The season gives up the
ghost too easily."
In the office of the Northern Svectator he continued for more than four years, aiding in the printing,
and also considerably in the editing. In the commencement of the fifth year of his apprenticeship,
the establishment was broken up, and he was left
again to shift for himself. Nothing daunted, he tied
up his clothes in a handkerchief, slung the bundle
across his back, and after thankfully receiving the
present of an old overcoat from his host, started for
his father's farm in Pennsylvania. He arrives there
in June, 1830, at which place he recruited his health
and strength by a few day's respite, and then obtained
work for a time at Jamestown.  Five day's stay saf
330 
HORACE GR~.
isfied him that it was no place for him, and he obtained a situation temporarily at Lodi. This also
proved a concern which wished to suspend payment
indefinitely, and having worked six weeks for promises, he again returned to the farm.
He now determined to try that city of peanut-war
and women-mob notoriety, yclept Erie. With pack
and stick as before, he started for the office of the
Er  Gazette.  Judge Sterrett, then and now the editor of that paper, thus mentions him:
"I was not in the printing office when he arrived. 1 came
in soon after, and saw him sitting at the table, reading the news.
papers, and so absorbed in them that he paid no attention to
my entrance.  My first feeling was one of astonishment, that
a fellow so singularly green in his appearance should be reading, and above all, reading so intently. I looked at him for a
few moments, and then finding that he made no movement
toward acquainting me with his business, I took my composing
stick and went to work. He continued to read for twenty
minutes or more, when he got up, and coming close to my case,
asked, in a peculiar whining voice,' Do you want any help in the
printing business?'' Why,' said I, ruuning my eye involuntarily up and down the extraordinary figure,' Did yotu ever work
at the trade?''Yes,' was the reply,'and I should be willing
to work under instructions if you could find me a job.' 
Upon hearing this, the Judge immediately sub
peoted the poor fellow of being a runaway, d to
331 
MODERN AGITATORS.
him that he had no need of help. Hiorace felt badly
enough, and returned home. It happened soon after,
that the Judge fell in with a farmer, who recoinmended Hiorace so highly that he was sent for to fill
the vacancy. Once more at his old place, he was not
long working himself into the favor of the proprietor,
and he paid him the usual journeyman's price of
twelve dollars per month and board. Ihis leisure, as
usual, was occupied with reading, and he became noted for his accurate knowledge of political transactions, both past and present.  Here he remained
seven months, when the workman, whose place he
was supplying, recovered from his sickness, and Horace was again out of employment. Of his wages he
had, during these months, used six dollars for a suit
of clothes, and the balance was due him. Fifteen
dollar of the remainder was paid down to him, and
a note for the balance hlie gave to his father.
In Erie fortune gave him her last ugly scowl, and,
full of hope, he resolved to push for New York. It
certainly was not his fault that he had succeeded no
better, for he had done all that the most faithful man
could do, and all was in vain. He knew that, in New
York, if he should not succeed it must be his own
fault, and he.felt willing to risk an adventure. Slinging his pack upon his back again, he traveled on foot
and by canal, until, on the 18th of August, 1831, he
landed in New York.  His articles of dress were still
332 
HORACE GREEINEY. 
the same that he had purchased at Erie; his cash in
pocket was ten dollars; yet these were not his capital, and he valued them as minor affairs. He felt
sure that if he could once get a foothold in that
city of competition, he should not only get a living
but make himself heard and felt.
He took board with an Irishman at two and a half
dollars per week, and then, for once, he did attempt
to remedy the looks of the outer man, by purchasing
a suit of clothes.  The next thing was to see if he
could find employment. Hle went from one office to
another; among others to the J'ournal of Commerce,t
where David Hale informed him that he thought him
a runaway apprentice, who could do no better than
to return to his employer; but it was not advice that
he was just then seeking, but employment. For this
he soughl diligently, through Friday and Saturday,
yet the evening of the last day in the week found
him tired of walking the city, and more weary of his
miserable success. In the course of the Sabbath, he
heard, from a fellow boarder, that they were in want
of hands at West's, No. 85 Chatham street. Accordingly, at half past five on Monday morning, he was
seated on the door-step of McElrath & Bangs' bookstore, the second loft of which building was used by
Mr. West, as their printer. Hie was not aware that
at that hour New Yorkers were enjoying the best
part of their night's rest, and of course he had some
333 
MODERN AGITATORS.
time to wait.  Did Mr. McElrath, as he passed in that
morning, realize that the seedy looking individual
upon his steps was destined to be in a few years his
partner in one of the most flourishing of the New
York dailies I Unlikely as it seemed, yet. so it was
to be. A journeyman of West's passing in, a Vermonter, heard his story and took him up stairs. He
was set at a very difficult job of work, upon a Polyglot Testament. After a short time West came in,
and asked his foreman, "Did you hire that d — n
fool I "  The foreman replied, that, in the urgent want
of help, he had set him at work.  "Well," said the
master, "Do for God's sake pay him off to-night, and
let him go about his business." When Horace presented his day's work of proof to the printer, at night,
the question of letting him go was quickly settled;
his day's work excelled any that had been previously
done upon the job.  Horace for the next six months
earned six dollars per week, upon the Polyglot. Of
the company then in the office, two have since been
members of congress, three influential editors, one
has made a fortune and is now a leading member in
a firm which manufactures annually over a million
of artificial teeth, and nearly all of the remainder
have reached stations of wealth and influence. In
order to make respectable wages, Horace was obliged
to work hard, early and late. In the busiest mo.
meonts, however, ho could sustai  vigorou conver
334 
HORACE GREELEY,
sation upon politics, religion, or any of the subjects
likely to be discussed among men of considerable intelligence.  He rose immediately in the estimation of
his shopmates, and for his obliging disposition, as well
as for his industry and intellectual ability, he became
"the in of the Hop."  Though exceedingly careful
in his own personal expenses, he was generous enough
if any of the journeymen wanted money; he was
never behindhand in lending them.  He retained his
slouched hat, his cotton shirt, his linen jacket and short
trowsers, that he might have something left to help
+aose whom he had left away in Pennsylvania.
He remained in this office fourteen months, when its
business declining, he found employment with Colonel Porter in conducting a new paper-the " Spin
of the Tim  "-for which he wrote a world of articles of various character and length. The following
humorous epistle was thought exceedingly funny at
the time; it was written in May, 1832:
"Messrs. Editors: —Hear me you shall, pity me you must,
while I proceed to give a short account of the dread calamities which this vile habit of turning the city upside down,'tother
side out, and wrong side before, on the first of May, has
brought down on my devoted head.
"_ You must know, that having resided but a few months in
your city, I was totally ignorant of the existence of said cus
tom. So, on the morning of the eventful, and to me disa
835 
MODERN AGITATORS.
trous day, I arose, according to immemorial usage, at, the dy'
img away of the last echo of the breakfast bell, and soon found
myself seated over my coffee, and my good landlady exercising her powers of volubility (no.weak ones) apparently in my
behalf; but so deep was the reverie in which my half-awakened
brain was then engaged, that I did not catch a single idea from
the whole of her discourse. I smiled, and said' Yes ma'am,'
'certainly, ma'am,' at each pause;  and  having speedily
despatched my breakfast, sallied immediately out, and proceeded to attend to the business which engrossed my mind.
Dinner time came, but no time for dinner; and it was late before I was at liberty to wend my way over wheelbarrows, barrels, and all mainner of obstructions, toward my boarding house.
All here was still; but by the help of my night-keys, I soon
introduced myself to my chamber, dreaming of nothing but
sweet repose; when, horrible to relate! my ears were instantaneously saluted with a most piercing female slhiek, proceeding exaqtly from my own bed, or at least from the place where
it should have been; and scarcely had sufficient time elapsed
for my hair to bristle on my head, before the shriek was answered by the loud vociferations of a surly mastiffin the kitchen
beneath, and reechoed by the outcries of half a dozen inmates
of the house, and these again were succeeded by the rattle of
the watchman; and the next moment, there was a round dozen
of them (besides the dog) at my throat, and commanding me
to tell them instantly what the devil all this meant.
"' You do well to ask that,' said I, as soon as I could speak,
'after falling upon me in this fashion in my own chamber.'
"' 0 take him off,' said the one who assumed to be the ma.
336 
HORACE GREELEY.
ter of the house,'perhaps he is not a thief after all; but being
too tipsy for starlight, he has made a mistake in trying to find
his lodgings;'-and in spite of all my remonstrances, I was
forthwith marched off to the watch-house, to pass the remainder of the night.  In the morning I narrowly escaped commitment on the charge of'burglary, with intent to steal, (I verily
believe it would have gone hard with me, if the witnesses
could have been got there at that unseasonable hour,) and I was
finally discharged, with a solemn admonition to guard, for the
future, against intoxication. (Think of that, sir, for a member of the cold water society!)
" I spent the next day in unraveling the mystery; and found
that my landlord had removed his goods and chattels to another part of the city, on the established day, supposing me to
be previously acquainted and satisfied with his intention of so
doing, and another family had immediately taken his place;
of which changes my absence of mind and absence from my
dinner had kept me ignorant; and thus had I been led blind.
fold into a'Comedy (or rather tragedy) of Errors.'
"Your unfortunate,              TIMOTHY WIGGINS."
In November, 1832, he went to work for Mr. Redfield, who then was engaged in the stereotyping business. Mr. R. remarked in him the same untiring activity that has made so prominent a feature in his
character. "He earned more," said Mr. Redfield,
"than any other man in the office; notwithstanding
which he could talk all the time." At this time there
were no cheap daily papers published in New York,
0                         22
337 
MODERN AGITATORS.
or in the United States. Almost the only one, in fact,
was a heavy, dull thing, taken by merchants at ten
dollars a year; it was about this period that Dr. Sheppard conceived the idea of starting a cheap daily,
and the project seemed as ridiculous to the printers
of New York, as did the idea of using steam as a
means of locomotion, or lightning as an agent for
running errands for all mankind. The originator of
the penny paper project got little encouragement,
and finally determined to start it himself. He persuaded Mr. Story-the foreman of the " Spirit of the
Times "-and Hiorace Greeley to associate with him
in its publication and editorial management.  Mr.
Greeley was not very sanguine in regard to its success, for he thought that a daily could not sustain itself at a less price than two cents. However, the
new firm of Greeley & Story, with the limited capital of one hundred and fifty dollars, issued, on the
first of January, 1833, the Morning Post.  That paper lived about two and a half weeks, long enough,
however, to convince Mr. Greeley that his first impression was correct, viz: that with a fair capital a
first rate daily would be sustained at two cents. Although the paper was discontinued, the firm held together, doing printing and job work, and among the
rest a great deal of lottery advertising. Their business increased, till by an unfortunate casualty Mr.
Story lost his life, and the name of the firm was
338 
HORACE GREELEY.
changed to Greeley & Co., Jonas Winchester having
taken the place of the deceased partner. In 1834
the firm included also a third partner, MIr. E. Libbett,
and was considered worth three thousand dollars.
They resolved to commence a weekly paper, and, as
the result of their deliberations, appeared the -Yew
Yorker. An interesting circumstance mentioned by
Mr. Greeley is, that at about this date James Gordon
Bennett applied to him to start a daily paper, in company with him, but for some reason Mr. Greeley declined, and Bennett, with another partner, commenced
the issue of the Inerald.
It was with the Xew Yorker that Mr. Greeley's
career as an editor really commenced. It may not
be amiss here to review and notice the origin of those
political and religious opinions which have formed
so prominent characteristics of the man, and which
justly or unjustly have associated his name with
nearly all the " isms" of the last twenty years.  HIis
parents were neither of them church-members, though
they were considered as belonging to the orthodox
faith; they were moral, went to church with their
children when they lived near enough, and were
strict in their observance of the Sabbath. While at
Westhaven, Vermont, Hiorace begun to reflect upon
the diversity of creeds; at the age of twelve he wavered in opinion in regard to the justice of eternal
punishment; and at fourteen had a preference -for the
339 
MO1)DERN AGITATORS.
doctrine of universal salvation. Having read the
history of Demetrius Poliocrates, prince of Athens,
he was overcome with admiration at his benevolence
in the treatment of the Athenians, for the vilest ingratitude, and he involuntarily asked himself, "If a
mortal prince can be thus generous and forgiving for
the greatest possible sins, shall not the infinite God
pardon the transgressions of his frail and erring creatures?  Can he see them exposed to endless punishment? "  From that hour his confidence in these theories decreased, and he has never yet seen sufficient
evidence in their favor to induce him to accept them
as his creed. Such were some of the influences that
made him a Universalist.
The theory of protection to American manufactures was the great burden of President Monroe's
message in 1821. Horace was then in Westhaven,
and in the exciting debates upon the subject he took
a deep and unusual interest.  Many and brilliant
were the events then occurring throughout the world,
to engross the attention of the young politician. The
South American republics were recognized as indedependent governments. In our country, Lafayette
was the great theme of attention. Clay, Adams, and
Jackson were making their most splendid efforts in
congress. Horace became an ardent admirer of the
brilliant talents of Henry Clay, and learned to distrust the pretensions of the so-called "democratic
340 
HORACE GREELEY.
party." In the presidential campaign of 1824, he acknowledges, in a later editorial, a deep interest. iHe
says, "We were but thirteen when this took place,
but we looked on very earnestly, without prejudice,
and tried to look beyond the mere names by which
the contending parties were called. Could we doubt
that democracy was on one side and the democratic
party on the other?" From this time forward he
had a great desire to become well versed in politics.
Political papers, political articles and leaders were
his delight. He used to get copies of the old Richnond Enquirer, and devour, with the greatest avidity, its laborious political editorials and communications. He acquired the habit of putting his thoughts
in type without the immediate use of ink and paper,
and in this manner also acquired the invaluable art of
writing good articles quickly. While at work upon
the Jackson paper at Lodi, he was thinking of and
hoping for the success of the antagonistic party. He
says, in a letter to a friend, " You are aware that an
important election is close at hand in this state, and
of course a great deal of interest is felt in the result.
The regular Jacksonians think they will elect Throop
by twenty thousand majority; but having obtained
all the information I can, I give it as my decided
opinion that if none of the candidates decline, we
shall elect Francis Granger governor. I need not inform you that such a result will be highly satisfac
341 
MODERN AGITATOERS.
tory to your humble servant." Such were some of
the influences that made him a whig.
While in New York, and soon after the death of
Mr. Francis Story, Mr. Greeley attended the lectures
of Dr. Graham. Hiis doctrines were at that time making considerable noise in New York and through
the country.  Every one is informed of his peculiar
theory and its probable correctness; suffice it to say
that his doctrines struck Mr. Greeley as being sound,
and he embraced them, practically as well as in theory. It is true that he had never been addicted to
the use of stimulants; that he had always cherished
a hearty disgust for tobacco and alcohol; that he was
a natural teetotaler; but he now discarded the over
nutritious diet, and in its stead substituted the plain
fare of Dr. Graham.
Whilp describing his boyhood we alluded to his
distaste for the usual amusements so much relished
by children. As he grew older the aversion grew
stronger, and we do not find that he ever cared for
any games but checkers and whist.  At the first,
where there is a chance for much display of skill, he
was a fine player; at the second, he -now and then
took a hand with his fellow-apprentices, but never
seems to have lost much time with it. Through all
his early life we find no mention made of any particular devotion to the fair sex. Hie never was foppish
enough to suit their tastes, or dutiful enough to mind
342 
IORACE GREELEY.
their whims.  He never felt that he had much time
or money to bestow upon them gratuitously, and unless a young man has considerable of both, he will
Inot be much of a favorite with them. Hie was fond
of poetry, and occasionally published a poem over his
initials. Under date of May 31st, 1834, we discover
the only one which indicates any breathings of the
tender passion. It is interesting, in that it betrays
the consciousness he seems to have had of his eccentricities, and of the estimate which the world placed
upon him, and, if there be any truth in poetry, also
reveals somewhat the reciprocal esteem which he
cherished toward the world. It is entitled
FANTASIES.
THmEY deem me cold, the thoughtless and light-hearted,
In that I worship not at beauty's shrine;
They deem me cold, that through the years departed,
I ne'er have bowed me to some form divine,
They deem me proud, that, where the world hath flattered,
I ne'er have knelt to languish or adore;
They think not that the homage idly scattered,
Leaves the heart bankrupt ere its spring is o'er.
No l in my soul there glows but one bright vision,
And o'er my heart there rules but one fond spell,
Bright'ning my hours of sleep with dreams elysian
Of one unseen, yet loved, aye cherished well;
Unseen? ah! no; her presence round me lingers,
Chasing each wayward thought that tempts to rove;
Weaving affection's web with fairy fingers,
And waking thoughts of purity and love.
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MODERN AGITATORS.
Star of my heaven I *    *   *    *    *
*    *    *    *    *    *    *    * m
He bids a final farewell to the muse in a poem
which appeared in the -            iterry   iessenger, in 1840.
Here is the last verse:
"Yet mourn not I-a stern, high duty
Now nerves my heart and fires my brain
Perish the dream of shapes of beauty,
So that this strife be not in vain;
To war on fraud entrenched with power  On smooth pretense and specious wrongThis task be mine, though fortune lower;
For this be banished sky and song."
After this digression, which we have made in order
to trace in a connected manner his early religious,
political, poetical, and social or unsocial tendencies,
we return to where we left our hero on the eve of
commencing the publication of the _/ew Yorker.
This was in the spring of the year 1834. The first
number was issued on. the 22d of March.  He had
fifteen pledged subscribers, and the first number sold
one hundred copies. In the address to the public,
contained in the first issue, we find the following passage, which we take the liberty to quote, because it
shows the principles with which Horace Greeley
started his career as an editor- principles to which
almost alone he has faithfully adhered:
344 
HORACE GREELEY.
" There is one disadvantage attending our debut, which is
seldom encountered in the outset of periodicals aspiring to
general popularity  and  patronage.   Ours  is not  blazoned
through the land as'The cheapest periodical in the world,'
'The largest paper ever published,' or any of the captivating
clap-traps wherewith enterprising gentlemen, possessed of a
convenient stock of assurance, are wont to usher in their
successive experiments on the gullibility of the public.
No likenesses of eminent and favorite authors will embellish our title, while they disdain to write for our columns.
No'distinguished literary and fashionable characters' have
been dragged in to bolster up a rigmarole of preposterous and charlatan pretensions. And, indeed, so serious is
the deficiency that the first (we may say the only) objection
which has been started by our most judicious friends, in the
discussion of our plans and prospects, has invariably been
this:'You do not indu]ge sufficiently in high-sounding pre
tensions.. You cannot succeed without hitmbug.' Our answer
has constantly been-' we shall try;' and, in the spirit of this
determination, we respectfully solicit of our fellow-citizens the
extension of that share of patronage which they shall deem
warranted by our performances rather than our promises."
The average gain of the New Yorker was more
than one hundred a week. In less than five months
it had a circulation of two thousand five hundred.
The second volume commenced with four thousand
five hundred subscribers. This was Horace Greeley's first success, and from this time forward he be             O*
345 
MODERN AGITATORS.
came known and appreciated among the literary
ranks, as a spicy and successful editor.
The Xew York,r gradually became a political paper, and its statistical information was always to be
relied upon. Mr. Greeley has always been exceedingly exact in his reports, never allowing his hopes
to take the place of facts in his paper. It is the remark of a proof-reader -" If there is anything that
will make Horace furious, it is to have a name spelled
wrong, or a mistake in election returns."  Mr. Greeley was at this time a supporter of the colonization
scheme, and leaned to the opinion that, in existing
disputes between the north and south, the north was
the aggressor. He maintained this ground with great
vigor in the numerous editorials of that day.
The firm of Greeley & Co. continued on with apparently increasing success, until, in October, 1837, its
financial affairs were in rather a tottering condition.
Mr. Greeley labored with most indefatigable energy
to keep it afloat, although in five years, seven copartners had entered and left the concern. A single paragraph from Mr. Greeley's pen reveals the reason of
his ill success:
"Probably we lack the elements of that very desirable kind of
success. There have been errors, mismanagements, and losses in
the conduct of our business. We mean that we lack, or do
not take kindly to, the arts which contribute to a newspaper
sensation. When our journal first appeared, a hundred copies
346 
HORACE GREELEY.
marked the extent to which the public curiosity claimed its perusal. Others establish newspapers even without literary reputation, as we were, and five or ten thousand copies are taken
at once -just to see what the new thing is. And thence they
career onward on the crest of a towering wave.  *   * *
'You don't humbug enough,' has been the complaint of more
than one of our retiring associates;'you ought to make more
noise, and vaunt your own merits; the world will never believe you print a good paper unless you tell them so.' Our
course has not been changed by these representations."
One great defect, however, in the paper was that
thle business department wanted an able manager,
and Mr. Greeley was too confiding, honest, and generous to be that man.  However delinquent his subscribers might be, he always paid roundly and promptly for every piece of work done for him.  If he hired
an article written, and the author did not charge as
much as Greeley thought it worth, he would make
up the amount gratuitously. Such generosity may
be noble, but not successful, in a world like this.
Toward the close of his connection with the /ew
Yorker, he was for months on the verge of bankruptcy, and was terribly harassed by pecuniary difficulties.
When just ready to abandon the paper, Mr. D. S.
Gregory offered him assistance, and Greeley survived
another year, to battle with hard times and delinquent subscribers. Park Benjamin, who contributed
347 
MIODERN AGITATORS.
to his literary department at this time, paid Mr. Greeley the following tribute of esteem, upon leaving it:
Grateful to my feelings has been my intercourse with the
readers of the New Yorker, and with its principal editor and
proprietor. By the former I hope my humble efforts will not
be unremembered; by the latter, I am happy to believe that
the sincere friendship which I entertain for him is reciprocated.
I still insist upon my editorial right so far as to say, in opposition to any veto which my coadjutor may interpose, that I cannot leave the association which has been so agreeable to me,
without paying to sterling worth, unbending integrity, high
moral principle, and ready kindness, their just due. These
qualities exist in the character of the man with whom now I
part; and by all to whom such qualities may appear admira.
ble, must such a character be esteemed."
Henry J. Raymond, now the editor of the ffew
York Daily Times, commenced his literary career at
eight dollars per week, under Horace Greeley.  He
was a fine, rapid writer, and was destined for a more
prominent position than sub-editor of any paper. lHe
was then a recent graduate from college.
The weekly labors of Mr. Greeley included, besides
the work upon the -Vew Yorker,-the editing of the
Jeffersonian, a weekly paper, published in Albany,
through the campaign of 1838. Either of these was
enough for a man of ordinary writing abilities, but
Mr. Greeley attempted and succeeded tolerably well
348 
HORACE GREELEY.
with both. It was, however, only by the greatest exertions, for the traveling of that day was not what it is
at present.
Horace Greeley was one of the principal leading
working spirits, by whose incessant efforts the election of General Harrison, in 1840, was accomplished.
In May he commenced the issue of the Loq Cabin,
the first edition of which sold twenty thousand copies,
as soon as they were struck off. Another edition was
printed, and another, until fifty thousand copies had
been disposed of. It was a remarkable hit. Seven
hundred subscribers were added daily, until the
weekly issue was over ninety thousand. Such success was as little anticipated as prepared for, and it
caused so much extra work and expense, for so short
a time, that but little money was made from it. Subscribers.who had sent in their names in the excitement preceding the election, were exceedingly tardy
about paying up. As a final result, it was continued
in a weekly form, until it and the New Yorker were
merged in the Tribune.
Mr. Greeley was now utterly absorbed in politics.
It is related of-him that he became frequently so engrossed in argument as to lose all consciousness of
events transpiring immediately about him. It even
happened that he could not tell whether or not he
had been to dinner, and had to ascertain the fact by
inquiring of the hands in the office. A good anec
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MODERN AGITATORS.
dote and true, is told of his being invited to take tea
at the house of a friend, when some political subject
being introduced as the theme of conversation, he
defended one side with great warmth. While perfectly absorbed in the discussion, the lady of the
house repeatedly invited him to tea, but he heard no
more of the invitation than if it had been whispered
in the street. She finally brought in a basket of
"crullers," or "doughnuts," as they are called in
some sections, and offered him one. All unconsciouLsly he took the basket into his lap, and went on
with his remarks. Gradually his hand wandered to
the basket, took up a cake mechanically, and conveyed it to his-mouth; bit by bit it disappeared, and
then another, till the last was gone! The lady of the
house was now thoroughly alarmed, and having heard
that cheese was an excellent antidote in such a case,
she passed him a plate that he might eat a piece.
Still busily'engaged in the merits of the question, he
took the plate into his hand, and piece by piece, by
the same abstracted process, the cheese followed the
cakes! No ill consequences ensued, nor was Mr.
Greeley conscious of having taken any food.
For his service in this campaign, Mr. Greeley received nothing but the splendid reputation he obtained as a fast and forcible writer. Hie had now on
his hands the Log Cabin and the New  Yorker; these
he resolved to merge into one paper, and concentrate
350 
HiORAOE GREELEY,
upon its editorial department all the intellectual ability he could command. He had saved as yet but little money, but he had the credit of an honest man,
and the repute of a very able one. With these, and a
thousand dollars from MIr. Gregory, whom we have
before alluded to, he resolved to start anew, and the
result was the New York Tribne.  He made an arrangement with Mr. McElrath, a lawyer, who was
capitally fitted to manage the business department of
a news journal. The amount of work which Mr.
Greeley accomplished was astonishingly great. His
energy was almost superhuman. Hie applied himself
closely every day from fifteen to eighteen hoursand oftener the latter than the former. Under the
editorship of such an indefatigable man the Tribune
could but thrive. It rose in circulation, and in the
estimation of the people rapidly. Men who bitterly
opposed its politics conceded its eminent ability. It
was the leading journal of the whig party. It also
advocated various beneficent reforms. We by no
means defend the political course of that journal,
while it was a party organ. While the Tribune was
a whig journal, it was probably hated more intensely
by its enemies than any other American journal.
The eminent abilities of Mr. Greeley could not be
vigorously used for party purposes, without drawing
down upon him the hatred of thousands. Few men
have been more abused than he; few more execrated
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MODERN AGITATORS.
than he by opposing politicians. It is easy enough
to see why. He writes nervously, graphically, intensely. He has no soft words for an enemy, but
blurts out what he conceives to be the truth, as an
Indian tomahawks a white man.  His vast energy,
combined with his splendid writing talent, disposes
him to annihilate an opposer. He has withal a capability, we think, for unjust prejudices against an
enemy. This was the case when he was younger,
but of late they seem to have died out of his heart.
But, though as a writer Mr. Greeley is always impetuous, he is by nature cautious-almost cunning. Thus
some of his political movements seem to his political
enemies to have been prompted by cunning. We
think, however, notwithstanding all the suspicious
political moves which he has made in the past, that
few honester men ever sat in the chair-editorial. IHe
is one of the most earnest men of the age. There is
nothing stagnant in his nature. Hle is decided, fixed,
in his opinions.
The opposition which the Tribune received from
the -ew York Sun was bitter and lasting.  Every
means that could be used, fair or unfair, were tried
to prevent the Tribune from supplanting that paper.
In it appeared the most scurrilous articles, with the
manifest intention of "crushing out" the Tribunte;
farther even than this, the attempt was made to hinder the sale by direct violence. Fights were prompt
352 
HORACE GREELEY.
ed between the newsboys, by the emissaries of Beach,
and nothing that promised success was too mean for
him to attempt. But, as when a strong, well managed
ship is sailing against the wind, she moves fastest
when it blows hardest, so with the Tribune, the greater
the opposition the more rapid its progress. The public became interested in the affair, and justice was
awarded to Mr. Greeley in the increasing demand
for his paper. For the first number there were six
hundred subscribers, and the editor remarks that,"We had some difficulty in giving away the first edition." It steadily gained, however, in friends and
patronage, and during the struggle with the Sun subscribers poured in at the rate of three hundred per
day. The fourth week showed a circulation of six
thousand, the seventh, eleven thousand, while the advertising.business incrcased in proportion, although
the price was raised from four to six cents a line.
The news department of the Tribune was more accurate and prompt than that of its adversary. In a certain day the Sun informed the public that "it i8
doub,ul whether the land bill can pass8 the house;"
the Tribune of the same day announced the passage
of the bill! The assistance of Mr. McElrath in the
business department of the paper was invaluable,
since it allowed to Mr. Greeley his whole time upon
the writing and editorial management. His usual
day's work at this period was three columns, equal
23
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MODERN AGITATORS.
to fifteen pages of foolscap, besides the arranging,
clipping, &C.
Upon the subject of protection to American industry Mr. Greeley wrote repeatedly, and with great energy. After reading his able articles upon that subject, one can hardly fail to be convinced of the justness of his views. iHe advocated the subject, not
solely because it was a wAIg measure, but because it
seemed to him correct and best for the interests of
the country at large. Nevertheless, he was, at this
period, a zealous, earnest, almost bigoted supporter
of the whig policy and whig administration. Hie hated and fought the doctrine of repudiation with telling energy. HIe supported John Tyler till he perceived that Tyler was selling himself and the whig
party to locofocoism, and then he opposed him with
all his. might.
The history of the Tr/une hereafter was the history of Mr. Greeley.  It began its second year with
a circulation of twelve thousand subscribers, and an
average daily support of thirteen columns of advertisements. In writing the subsequent history of its editor, we -shall most conveniently, almost necessarily,
follow the track of the Tribune down to the present
time, and, advancing, glance at the doctrines it sustained, and the theories it supported. The first to be
noticed is Fourierism. At the time when this subject became a theme of discussion in this country,
354 
HORACE GREELEY.
Horace Greeley was a young man of twenty-six, who,
from poverty, had struggled up to a competence only
by the most arduous exertion. Hle knew by bitter
experience what it was to be miserably poor; he had
gone through a long course of training in the school
of adversity, and was in every way qualified to sympathize with his schoolmates under the iron discipline
of that stern tutor. It was not in Greeley to look
upon destitution and misery without commiseration,
nor was he willing that his sympathy should end until the means of relief were discovered and applied.
New York was a vast theater for the display of humanity and kindness, and never more so than during
the winter of 1837-8. Food and provisions were high,
fuel scarce, the cold weather unusually protracted and
severe. Business of all kinds was at a stand-still, laborers were thrown out of employment by thousands,
and crowds of hungry men, women, and children
went famishing through the streets. The picture was
a most melancholy one, well calculated to inspire the
energies of a humane disposition. What could be
done to relieve the distress of these perishing thousands?  There was wealth enough; there was enough
in New York, and Greeley knew it; tleir'swas the
want, there the supply.  Could not some plan be devised by which they could be brought together?
In this emergency, Albert Brisbane, a liberally educated young man, the son of wealthy parents, re
355 
MODERN AGITATORS.
turned from Paris, where the doctrines of Fourier
was the theme of universal discussion. Brisbane was
fascinated by the great beauty and apparent feasibility of these doctrines, and attributed the want of success in Europe to the form of government, and the
utter ignorance and degradation of the masses. He
thought that if transplanted to free, progressive America, they would operate like a charm. Full of his
new enthusiasm, he returned to New York, and commenced lecturing on the subject. Greeley heard
him; the remedy seemed adapted to the want; he
espoused the cause, and in the Tribune earnestly advocated the adoption of the experiment. A very
brief glance at the leading principles of these social
reformers is given in a Tribune of November, 1841.
He says:
"We have written something, and shall yet write much
more, in illustration and advocacy of the great social revolutionI which our age is destined to commence, in rendering all
usefuil labor at once attractive and honorable, and banishing
want and all consequent degradation from the globe. The
germ of this revolution is developed in the writings of Charles
Fourier, a philanthropic and observing Frenchman, who died
in 1837, after devoting thirty years of a studious and unobtrusive life to inquiries, at once patient and profound, into the
causes of the great mass of social evils which overwhelm humanity, and the true means of removing them. These means
he proves to be a system of industrial and household associa
356 
HORACE GiEELf.
tion, on the principle of joint stock investment, whereby labor
will be ennobled and rendered attractive and universal, capital
be afforded a secure and lucrative investment, and talent and in.
dustry find appropriate, constant employment and adequate
reward, while plenty, comfort, and the best means of intellect.
ual and moral improvement is guaranteed to all, regardless of
former acquirements or conditions."
An association of gentlemen was formed, which
obtained the use of a column of the Daily Tribune
upon the subject. Much attention was attracted to
the consideration of these measures throughout the
United States. It met with all kinds of opposition,
was declared a dangerous innovation, an unchristian
scheme, and met universally with great hostility. It
is always thus with reforms, whether social, religious,
or politicl, and the only true test must be actual experiment.  With a single exception the "associations" were failures, and many worthy men suffered
severely with their everthrow. Odium was cast upon
the originators of a scheme which, had it been successful, would have made them heroes; so great is
the effect of success! Mr. Greeley's part in the drama wound up with a discussion between himself and
Henry J. Raymond, who, at the solicitation of Colonel
Webb, had joined the Courier and Enquirer. The dispute was prolonged through successive numbers, and
both sides of the argument were published in both
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MODERN AGITATORS.
papers. Since then, the same sentiments have always formed a prominent feature in Mr. Greeley's
opinions, but he seldom advances them in his paper,
unless to repel attacks which originate from the attempt to vamp them up for party capital. The
world is at present too ungenial, and its soil too
uncultivated to ripen so delicate a fruit; it must
be deferred for full realization to "the good time
coming."
From a penny paper the Tribune raised its price to
two cents, and at this the second volume commenced
with a list of twelve thousand. For interfering in a
local dispute in regard to election returns, it was at
this early period threatened with an execution of mob
law, and had it been carried out, the assailants would
have met a warm reception. The office was put in a
state of defense, and workmen, compositors, proofreaders, and all employed in the office, except Mir. Greeley, were ready to meet the assault; he remarked that
he thought no violence would be attempted, and there
was none.
In the summer of 1842, 1VIr. Greeley sought a temporary respite from the harrassing cares of editorial life in
traveling.  Hie visited Washington, M\ount Vernon,
Niagara, and his old home in Vermont. His style as a
correspondent is sometimes racy, sometimes subdued,
and always exceedingly interesting. We copy the
358 
HORAOE  GREELEY.
following from the account of his visit to the burial
place of Washington:
"Slowly, pensively, we turned our faces from the rest of the
mighty dead, to the turmoil of the restless living-from the
solemn, sublime repose of Mount Vernon, to the ceaseless intrigues, the petty strifes, the ant-hill bustle of the Federal City.
Each has its own atmosphere; London and Mecca are not so unlike as they. The silent, enshrouding woods, the gleaming,
majestic river, the bright, benignant sky-it is fitly here, amid
the scenes he loved and hallowed, that the man who redeemed
patriotism and liberty from the reproach which centuries of
designing knavery and hollow profession had cast upon them,
now calmly awaits the trump of the archangel. Who does
not rejoice that the original design of removing his ashes to the
city has never been consummated-that they lie where the pilgrim may reverently approach them, unvexed by the light
laugh of the time-killing worldling, unaimoyed by the vain or
vile scribblings of the thoughtless or the base? Thus may they
repose forever! that the heart of the patriot may be invigorated, the hopes of the philanthropist strengthened and his aims
exalted, the pulse of the American quickened and his aspirations purified by a visit to Mount Vernon! "
In reply to an assault by Major Noah, who seems
to have indulged quite a disposition to provoke him,
and had published a nonsensical paragraph charging
M]r. Greeley with the crime of eating with colored
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MODERN AGITATORS.
persons, the editor of the Tribune wrote the following
cutting retort:
"We have never associated with blacks; never eaten with
them; and yet it is quite probable that if we had seen two
cleanly, decent colored persons sitting down at a second table
in another room just as we were finishing our breakfast, we
might have gone away without thinking or caring about the
matter. We choose our own company in all things, and that
of our own race, but cherish little of that spirit which for eighteen centuries has held the kindred of M. M. Noah accursed
of God and man, outlawed and outcast, and unfit to be the associates of Christians, Mussulmen, or even selfrespecting Pagans. Where there are thousands who would not eat with a
negro, there are (or lately were) tens of thousands who would
not eat with a Jew. We leave to such renegades as the Judge
of Israel the stirring up of prejudices and the prating of the
'usages of society,' which over half the world make him an
abhorrence, as they not long since would have done here. We
treat all men according to what they are, and not whence they
spring. That he is a knave, we think much to his discredit;
that he is a Jew, nothing, however unfortunate it may be to
that luckless people."
The famous libel suits of J. F. Cooper against the
Tribune furnish us with the most amusing incidents
in the history of that paper. Mr. Cooper was attempting to sustain his waning reputation as a novelist, and revive the depreciated state of his funds, by
360 
HiORACE GREELEY.
a series of exceedingly novel prosecutions. One of
them was against lsIr. Weed, the editor of the Albany
Evening Journal.  In a letter to the T2~bune respecting that trial, occurs the following passage which is
supposed to furnish the foundation for the charge:
" The value of sir. Cooper's character, therefore, has
been judicially ascertained. It is worth exactly four
hundred dollars."
Upon the issue of the letter from which this clause
is taken, Fenimnore Cooper determined to commence
a suit against horace Greeley. lie did so, and for
the description of the trial, &c., we shall refer to the
Tr,ibune containing Air. Greeley's humorous account
of it, premising that Air. Greeley defended his case
in person.  In this account of it he says:
" We had, to the declaration against us, pleaded the general issue-that is not guilty of libeling Mr. Cooper, at the same time
fully admitting that we had published all that he called our libels on him, and desiring to put in issue only the fact of their
being or not being libels, and have the verdict turn on that issue. But Mr. Cooper told the jury (and we found to our cost
that this was New York supreme and circuit court law) that
by pleading not guilty we had legally admitted ourselves to be
guilty-that all that was necessary for the plaintiff, under that
plea, was to put in our admission of publication, and then the
jury had nothing to do but to assess the plaintiffs damages under the direction of the court. In short, we were made to understand that there was no way under heaven-we beg pardon;
P
361 
MODERN AGITATORS.
under New York supreme court law-in which the editor of a
newspaper could plead to an action for libel that the matter
charged upon him as libelous was not in its nature or intent a
libel, but simply a statement, according to the best of his knowledge and belief, of some notorious and every way public transaction, or his own honest comments thereon, and ask the jury
to decide whether the plaintiff's averments or his answers thereto
be the truth!"
IHis closing address to the jury contained so much
of manly eloquence and has so important a bearing
on the freedom of the press, that our readers cannot
fail to admire it; he continues:
"But, gentlemen, you are bound to consider-you cannot refuse to consider-that if you condemn me to pay any sum
whatever for the expression of my opinion upon his conduct, you
thereby. seal your own lips, with those of your neighbors and
countrymen, against any such expression in this or any other
case; you will no longer have a right to censure the rich man
who harasses his poor neighbor with vexatious lawsuits, merely
to oppress and ruin him, but will be liable, by your own verdict, to prosecution and damages whenever you shall feel constrained to condemn what appears to you injustice, oppression,
or littleness, no matter how flagrant the case may be.
"Gentlemen of the jury, my character, my reputation are in
your hands. I think I may say that I commit them to your
keeping untarnished; I will not doubt that you will return them
to me unsullied. I ask of you no mercy, but justice. I have
362 
HORACE GREELEY.
nrot sought this issue; but neither have I feared nor shunned it.
Should you render the verdict against me, I shall deplore, far
more than any pecuniary consequence, the stigma of libeler
which your verdict would tend to cast upon me-an imputae
tion which I was never, till now, called to repel before a jury
of my countrymen. But, gentlemen, feeling no consciousness
of deserving such a stigma-feeling, at this moment, as ever,
a profound conviction that I do not deserve it, I shall yet be
consoled by the reflection, that many nobler and worthier than
I have suffered far more than any judgment here could inflict on
me, for the rights of free speech and opinion-the right of rebuking oppression and meanness in the language of manly sincerity and honest feeling. By their example, may I still be up.
held and strengthened.   Gentlemen, I fearlessly await your
decision!"
Mr. J. F. Cooper in person proceeded to sum up
the cause for the prosecution, after which follow
some general comments by Mr. Greeley, which are
racy:
"Knowing what we did and do of the severe illness of the
wife of Mr. Weed, and the dangerous state of his eldest daughter at the time of the Fonda trials in question-regarding them
as we do-the jokes attempted to be cut by Fenimore over
their condition-his talk of the story growing up from one girl
to the mother and three or four daughters-his fun about their
probably having the Asiatic cholera among them, or some other
contagious disease, &c., &c., however it may have sounded to
363 
MODERN AGITATORS.
others, did seem to us rather inhu —hallo  there! we had
liked to have put our foot right into it again, after all our tui..
tion.  We mean to say considering that, just the day before,
Mr. Weed had been choked by his counsel into surrendering
at discretion to Fenimore, being assured (correctly) by said
counsel that, as the law is now expounded and administered by
the supreme court, he had no earthly choice but to bow his
neck to the yoke, pay all that might be claimed of him, and
publish whatever humiliations should be required, or else prepare to be immediately ruined by the suits which Fenimore
and Richard had already commenced or were getting ready for
him-considering all this, and how much Mr. Weed has
paid and must pay towards his subsistence-how keenly
W. has had to smart for his speaking his mind of him-we
did not think that Fenimore's talk at this time and place of
Weed's family, and of Weed himself, as a man so paltry that
he would pretend to sickness in his family as an excuse to keep
away fromi court, and resort to trick after trick to put off his case
for a day or two-it seemed to us, considering the present relations of the parties, most ungen    there we go again!  We
mean to say that the whole of this part of Mr. Cooper's speech
grated upon our feelings rather harshly. We believe that isn't
a libel. (This talking with a gag in the mouth is rather awkward, at first, but we'll get the hang of it in time. Have patience with us, Fenimore on one side and the public on the other,
till we nick it.)'    *  *.       Fenimore closed very effectively with an appeal for his character, and a picture of the
sufferings of his wife and family-his grown up daughters often suffused in tears by these attacks on their father. Some said
0 (-) 
HORACE GREELEY.
this was mawkish, but we consider it good, and think it toll.
We have a different theory as to what the girls were crying
for, but we wont state it, lest another dose of supreme court
law be administered to us. (Not any more at present, I thank
ye!)  *  *  *  *  *  The jury retired, and the rest of us
went to dinner.  The jury were hungry, too, and did not stay
out long. On comparing notes, there were seven of them for
a verdict of one hundred, tvo for two hundred, and three for
five hundred dollars. They added these sums up-total twentysix hundred-divided by twelve, and the dividend was a little
over two hundred; so they called it two hundred dollars damages and six cents costs, which of course carries full costs
against us. We went back from dinner, took the verdict in
all meekness, took a sleigh, and struck a bee-line for New
York."
Upon the harmless jokes cracked by Mr. Greeley
in this report, such as " inhu," "ungen,"
&c., Cooper commnenced another action, but his better judgment returning befobre he had quite made a
fool of himself, he abandoned it. Before we leave
the subject we nzust find room for Greeley's closing
piece of pleasantry; we call it rich:
"Our friend Fenimore  Cooper, it will  be remembered,
chivalrously declared, in his summing up at Ballston, that if we
were to sue him for a libel in asserting our. personal uncomineliness, he should not plead the general issue, but justify.   To a
plain man, this would seem an easy and safe course. But let
365 
3MODERN AGITATORS.
us try it: Fenimore has the audacity to say we are not handsome; we employ Richard (Fenimore's counsel)-we presume he has no aversion to a good fee, even if made of the
editorial' sixpences' Fenimore dilated on-and commence
our action,laying the venue in St. Lawrence, Alleghany, or some
other county where our personal appearance is not notorious; and if the judge should be a firiend of ours, so much
the better. Well; Fenimore boldly pleads justification, thinking it as easy as not. But how is he to establish it? We of
course should not be so green as to attend the trial in person
in such an issue-no man is obliged to make out his adversary's
ease-but would leave it all to Richard, and the help the judge
might properly give him. So the case is on, and Fenimore
undertakes thejustification, which, of course, admits and aggravates the libel; so our side is all made out. But let us see
how he gets along. Of course, he will not think of offering
witnesses to swear point-blank that we are homely-that, if he
did not lhiow it, the judge would soon tell him would be a simple opinion, which would not do to go to a jury; he must present facts.
"'Fenimore.-'Well, then, your honor, I offer to prove by
this witness that the plaintiff is tow-headed, and half bald at
that; he is long-legged, gaunt, and most cadaverous of visage
-eryo, homely.'
"Judge.-' How does that follow? Light hair and fair face
bespeak a purely Saxon ancestry, and were honorable in the
good old days; I rule that they are comely.   Thin  locks
bring out the phrenological developments, you see, and give
dignity and massiveness to the aspect; and as to slenderness
366 
IIORACE GREELEY.
what do our dandies lace for if that is not graceful? They
ought to know what is attractive, I reckon. No, sir; your
proof is irrelevant, and I rule it out.'
"Fentmore.-(The sweat starting.)'Well, your honor,
I have evidence to prove the said plaintiff is slouching in
dress; goes bent like a hoop, and so rocking in gait, that he
goes down both sides of a street at once.'
"Jdtdce.-' That to prove homeliness?  I hope you don't expect a man of ideas to spend his precious time before a lookingglass?  It wouldbe robbing the public.  "Bent,"do you say?
Isnl't the curve the true line of beauty, I'd like to know?
Where were you brought up? As to walking, you don't expect a "man of mark," as you called hhn at Ballston, to be
quite as dapper and pert as a footman, whose walk is his
hourly study and his nightly dream-its perfection, the sum
of his ambition! Great ideas of beauty you must have! That
evidence wont answer.'
"Now,  Fenimore, brother in adversity! wouldn't you begin to have a realizing sense of your awful situation? Wouldn't
you begin to wish yourself somewhere else, and a great deal
further, beforeyou came into court to justify, legally, an opinion?
Wouldn't you begin to perceive that the application of the law
of libel in its strictness to a mere expression of opinion is absurd, mistaken, and tyrannical?
"Of course, we shan't take advantage of your exposed and
perilous condition, for we are meek and forgiving, with a hearty
disrelish for the machinery of the law.  But if we had a mind
to take hold of you, with Pichlard to help us, and the supreme
court's ruling in actions of libel at our back, wouldn't you catch
367 
MODERN AGITATORS.
it? We should get the whole fund back again, and give a din
ner to the numerous editorial contributors. That dinner would
be worth attending, Fenimore;  and we'll warrant the jokes to
average a good deal better than you cracked in your speech at
Ballston."
The Tribune-never behind its competitors in news,
always independent and out-spoken in its criticisms
of public action whether individual or assembled, of ten exposing itself to the bitterest attacks of its political enemies, yet always able and strong in defensecontinued to increase in prosperity through the early
years of its existence. Though it had able contributors, its master-spirit, the life-giving heart of its system, was Horace Greeley.  With new type and the
paper increased one third in its original dimensions,
he entered the labors of 1844, strong in purpose and
full of vigor. It was now the leading whig paper of
the country. This was to be, to its controller, a year
of the most intense application, both mental and
physical.   Henry Clay, the favorite of  Greeley's
boyhood, the political idol of his riper years, and
now almost his God, was the candidate for president.
Of the amount  of work which Mr. Greeley performed in that campaign, no one can have any conception who has not addressed public meetings five
or six times a week, traveled by all the hours of sunlight, written twenty private letters a day, besides an
368 
HORACE GREELEY.
average of twenty pages of foolscap daily for the
press.  It was well, perhaps, for the cause of American reform, that Clay wNas defeated; the overthrow
of his darling candidate was the first blow toward
HIorace Greeley's emancipation from the bondage of
party and political servitude. It was soon followed
up by another, which was the annexation of Texas.
Greeley now opened his eyes to the encroachments of
the slave power. Itie discovered that hlie had made a
slight mistake in supposing that by keeping still and
letting the southl have her own way, our rights would
be best secured to us. lIe was feeling his way along
to truth upon this question, when, in the early morning of February 5th, 1845, the office of the paper
was destroyed by fire.  Scarcely anything was saved
but the mail books, which had been deposited in the
safe.  The city papers, however, kindly turned out to
him their spare plrinting materials, and, the next
mlornling,, the best Tr'ibut)e of the volume appeared at
its usual hour, and soon everything was restored to
its unifbrm order and regularity.
In the autumn previous to this casualty, Mr. Greeley
became acquainted with Margaret Fuller, through
the                  pages of the Dia l.  T he richness of her style, the
purity and originality of her sentiments, and her force
of                   diction, induced him t o  as k  her assistance in the
literary  department of t       he Tribu2ne, and she replied
favorably. Her first essay was published in Decem             P*                       24
369 
MODIERN AGITATOIr$S.
ber, 1844. Hier average amount of writing was three
articles weekly.  She brought to the Tribune a mind
crammed with the first literature of both hemispheres.
Hier talent for criticism was the most acute of any
woman of her time. She appreciated the beauty of
a literary performance and acknowledged it instantly,
where others read and re-read, and withheld their
opinion till some one spoke first. During the time
of her connection with the Tribune, she resided in
Mr. Greeley's family, upon the banks of the East
river. After fourteen months she went to Europe,
expecting to return after a temporary absence; but
the vessel on which she embarked came almost within
sight of her home, and there, with its cargo and passengers, sank forever!
We shall proceed to give specimens of Mr. Greeley's style, which are strongly flavored with the vituperative. They occurred during the years 1846 and
1847, when the Tribune was at war with almost all
the educated professions of America. We give
merely an occasional paragraph:
"The Journal of Commerce is the most self-complacent and
dogmatic of all possible newspapers."
"We defy the father of lies himself to crowd more stupendous falsehoods into a paragraph than this contains."
"The villain who makes this charge against me well knows
that it is the basest falsehood."
370 
HORACE GREELEY.
"Mr. Benton! each of the above observations is a deliberate
falsehood, and you are an unqualified villain."
" The Express is surely the basest and paltriest of all possible journals."
" Having been absent froni the city a few days, I perceive
with a pleasurable surprise, on my return, that the Express
has only perpetrated two new calumnies upon me of any consequence, since Friday evening."
To an article recommending the secession of the
slave states from the Union, he replies thus:
" Dr. Franklin used to tell an anecdote illustrative of his
idea of the folly of dueling, substantially thus: A man said
to another in some public place,' Sir, I wish you would move
a little away from me, for a disagreeable odor proceeds from
you.''Sir,' was the stern response,'that is an insult, and you
must fight me!''Certainly,' was the quiet reply,'I will fight
you if you wish it; but I don't see how that can mend the
matter. If you kill me, I also shall smell badly; and if I kill
you, you will smell worse than you do now.'
"We have not yet been able to understand what our dis
unionists, north or south, really expect to gain by dissolving
the Union.  e   *  *  *'These valuable slaves escaped,' do
you say? Will slaves be any less likely to run away when
they know that, once across Mason and Dixon's line, they are
safe from pursuit, and can never be reclaimed?' Every slaveholder is in continual apprehension,' say you?  In the name of
wonder, how is disunion to soothe their nervous excitement?
371 
IMODERPN AGITATORS.
They'wont stand it,' eh 2 Have they never heard of getting
'out of the frying-pan into the fire?'  Do let us hear how slh
very is to be perpetuated and fortified by disunion? "
In reply to an article in the Courier agtd.Engurer,
upon his eccentricity and style of dress, he has the
following paragraph:
" As to our personal appearance, it does seem that we should
say something, to stay the flood of nonsense with which the
town must by this time be nauseated. Some donkey a while
ago, apparently anxious to annoy the editor of this paper, and
not well knowing with what, originated the story of the care lessness of his personal appearance; and since then every block head of the same disposition, and distressed by a similar lack
of ideas, has repeated and exaggerated the foolery; until firom
its origin in the Albany Microscope it has sunk down at last to
the columns of thie Courier and Enquirer, growing more absurd
at every landing. Yet all this time the object of this silly rail
lery has doubtless worn better clothes than two-thirds of those
who thus assailed him-better than any of them could honestly
wear if they paid their debts otherwise than by bankruptcy;
while, indeed, if they arc more cleanly than he, they must
bathe very thoroughly not less than twice a day.   The editor
of the Tribunze is the son of a poor and humble farmer; came.
to New York a minor, without a friend within two hundred
miles, less than ten dollars in his pocket, and precious little be
sides; he has never had a dollar from a relative, and has for
years labored under a load of debt, (thrown on him by the mis
372 
HORACE GREELEY.
conduct of others and the revulsions of 1837,) which he can
now just see to the end of. Thenceforth he may be able to
makle a better show, if deemed  essential by his friends; for
himself he has not much time or thought to bestow upon the
matter.   That he ever affeced eccentricity is most untrue;
and certainly no costume he ever appeared in would  create
suceh a sensation in Broadway as that James Watson Webb
would have worn but for the clemency of Governor Seward.
Heaven grant our assailant may never hang with such weight
on another whig executive!  We drop him."
To explain the last few sentences, it need only be
remembered that Colonel Webb had been sentenced
to prison for two years, for fighlting a duel, but lihe was
pardoned by Governor Seward, without a day's inmprisoniment.
Being accused by the Evening Post of knuckling
to the slave interest, Greeley commenced his reply
in these words: "You lie, villain: wilfully, wickedly, basely lie!"
In the Taylor and Fillmore campaign SIfr. Greeley
at first opposed, then wavered, and never heartily
supported the nomination. He thought that General
Taylor was not a man qualified to be president of the
United States, but he was prevailed upon to support
the nominations with a view to the triumph of free
soil dLoctrines.  The whigs were successful, and thereby Horace Greeley was elected to a seat in congress
for three months, to supply the vacancy occasioned
373 
MODERN AGITATORS.
by the death of a New York representative. While
there, he was too industrious to be esteemed by lazy
aristocrats; too economical in "Uncle Sam's " interests to be popular among his nephews; and too much
a hater of vice to be loved by her devotees. The
measures which he labored upon mostly were the reform in mileage; the land reform bill, and the bill
for the reduction of naval expenses. iHe also made
some " plain and forcible" hits upon the tariff question, and the slave-trade in the District, and took part
in the famous (or infamous) "battle of the books."
During the intervals of session he wrote many articles
for the Ti~bune, among which, the most prominent,
and the one which procured him immense odium
among the members was the " mileage expose." But
we cannot stop to trace his course while here. lHe
was completely disgusted with the management and
duplicity of the "honorables," and especially with
that crowning master-piece of shame, " the last night
of the session." IHe wrote a long letter to his constituents, upon his return, of which we give the closing paragraph:
"My work as your servant is done-whether well or ill it
remains for you to judge. Very likely I gave the wrong vote
on some of the difficult and complicated questions to which I
was called to respond AY. or NO, with hardly a moment's
warning. If so, you can detect anid condemn the error; for
my name stands recorded in the divisions by Yeas and Nays,
374: 
HIIORACE GREELEY.
on every public and all but one private bill, (which was laid on
the table the moment the sitting opened, and on which my
name had just been passed as I entered the hall.) I wish it
were the usage among us to publish less of speeches and more
of propositions and votes thereupon; it would give the mass
of the people a much clearer insight into the management of their
public affairs.  My successor bei.g already chosen and commissioned, I shall hardly be suspected of seeking your further
kindness, and I shall be heartily rejoiced if he shall be able to
combine equal zeal in your service with greater efficiencyequal fearlessness with greater popularity. * * * I thank
you heartily for the glimpse of public life which your favor
has afforded me, and hope to render it useful henceforth, not
to myself only, but to the public. In ceasing to be your agent,
and returning with renewed zest to my private cares and duties, I have a single additional favor to ask, not of you espepecially, but of all; and I am sure my friends at least will
grant it Without hesitation. It is that you and they will henceforth oblige me by remembering that my name is simply
" HORACE GREELEY."
The year 1849 exhibits an amount of talent in the
T'ibune office which defies competition in America.
Besides Mr. Greeley, principal editor, there was C.
A. Dana, of brilliant talents, assistant; George Ripley, a profound scholar and classical critic; W. IHI.
Fry, from the scorchings of whose brain-pan many
an unlucky culprit has wished himself in the fire;
Bayard Taylor, with imagination and memory stored
375 
IMODEIZN AGITATORS.
with wealth from the plains of California and Europe,
and G. G. Foster, a rapid workman in the city news
department.  Need it be wondered that the Trbune
grew and thrived in spite of its independent fearlessness?
Mlr. Greeley's cares were much lightened by such
an able corps of men, an4 he found considerable time
to travel.  I-e took a tour to the west, lectured upon
agriculture, and kept wide open his eye for observation.  It has been affirmed by many, and believed
by some, possibly, that hlie was an advocate of the
doctrine of "spiritual manifestations."  I-e was not.
ie examined the subject with care, as every honest
man should, and did not find evidence of its truthfulness.
In regard to the woman's rights theory, he wrote
as follows:  "It is easy to be smart, to be droll, to
be facetious, in opposition to the demands of these
female reformers; and, in decrying assumptions so
novel and opposed to established habits and usages,
a little wit will go a great way. But when a sincere
republican is asked to say in sober earnest what adequate reason he can give for refusing the demand of
women to an equal participation with men in political rights, he must answer, none at all. * * X 
However unwise or mistaken the demand, it must be
conceded."
The Tribune had now become a lucrative concern.
376 
HORACE GREELEY.
It was the first enterprise in which Horace Greeley
had so succeeded as to inake it " pay." Instead of
heaping up a princely fortune upon the receipts, as
he might honorably have done after so much hard
labor to establish it, he and 3Ir. 1IcElrath determined
to make an experiment of the doctrine of " associated
labor," and to it they devoted the Tribne.  The concern was divided into one hundred shares, of a thousand dollars each, and (excepting a reserved portion
for the original partners) they were sold out to such
of the men in the establishment as could pay for
them. Each share entitled its owner to a vote in
proceedings of the company, and it so continues to
this day.
In 1851 iorace Greeley attended the General Exhibition for Industry, at London, and while there was
appointed one of the jury on hardware.  As the
steamer glided down the harbor, the Napoleon of the
New York press stood girt in the immortal "white
overcoat," while crowds of friends upon the dock sent
up enthusiastic cheers. IHis passage to England was
a tempestuous one, and being sea-sick most of the
way over, he enjoyed it but little. I-e visited the
principal cities of England, commented upon everything he thought worthy of note, and in the columns
of his paper criticised what he disliked, as freely as
at home. He was invited by a parliamentary committee of the first men in England to give them the
Pa*       ~       24
37T 
MODERN  AGITATORS.
benefit of his experience in the matter of cheap periodicals. His information was well received, and
seemed quite satisfactory to the committee. After
nearly two months' stay in England, he went over to
the continent, visited Calais, Paris, and Lyons; went
across the Alps to Turin, and spent three weeks
among the principal cities of Italy. Returning
through Switzerland, Germany, and  Belgium, the
21st of July found himn again in London. He closed
his European tour by a hasty trip through the north
of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and on the 6th of
August, in the Baltic, started for home. lie wrote
under date of that day the following paragraph:
" I rejoice to feel that every hour, henceforth, must lessen the
distance which divides me from my country, whose advantages
and bldssings this four months' absence has taught me to appreciate more dearly, and to prize more deeply, than before.
With a glow of unwonted rapture I see our stately vessel's
prow turned toward the setting sun, and strive to realize that
only some ten days separate me fromn those I know and love
best on earth. Hark! the last gun announces that the mailboat has left us, and that we are fairly afloat on our ocean
journey; the shores of Europe recede from our vision; the
watery waste is all around us; and now, with God above and
death below, our gallant bark and her clustered company together brave the dangers of the mightydeep.  May Infinite
Miercy watch over our onward path and bring us safely to our
several homes; for to die away from home and kindred seems
378 
HORACE GREELEY.
one of the saddest calamities that could befall me. This mortal tenement would rest uneasily in an ocean shroud; this
spirit reluctantly resign that tenement to the chill and pitiless
brine; these eyes close regretfully on the stranger skies and
bleak inhospitality of the sullen and stormy main. No! let
me see once more the scenes so well remembered and beloved;
let me grasp, if but once again, the hand of friendship, and
hear the thrilling accents of proved affection, and when, sooner
or later, the hour of mortal agony shall come, let my last gaze
be fixed on eyes that will not forget me when I am gone, and
let my ashes repose in that congenial soil which, however I
may then be esteemed or hated is still' My own green land
forever! "'
He reached New York in safety, having stolen a
march on the daily papers, by arranging the foreign
news all ready for publication, before leaving the
vessel. Rushing from the steamer, he carried the
"copy" to the Tribune office, and while the compositors of the other papers were setting up their type,
the Tribune boys were shouting the arrival of the
Baltic.
In 1836, Mr. Greeley married Mary Y. Cheney,
of Litchfield, Connecticut, by whom  he has ]had six
children, four of whom, alas! are now sleeping in the
grave. His domestic afflictions and his constant and
severe toil have given to his brow a wearr, worn
look, like that upon the countenance of a sorrowing,
379 
MODERN AGITATOIZS.
suffering man. And now he begins to talk of growing old. He says most beautifully:
"As for me, long tossed on the stormiest waves of doubtful
conflict, and an arduous endeavor, I have begun to feel, since
the shade of forty years fell upon me, the weary, tempestdriven voyager's longing for land, the wanderer's yearning for
the hamlet where in childhood he nestled by his mother's knee,
and was -soothed to sleep on her breast.
" The sober down-hill of life dispels many illusions, while it
develops or strengthens within us the attachment, perhaps
long smothered or overlaid, for'that dear hut,' our home.
And so I, in the sober afternoon of life, when its sun, if not
high, is still warm, have bought me a few acres of land in the
broad, still country, and, bearing thither my household treasures, have resolved to steal from the city's labors and anxieties,
at least one day in each week, wherein to revive, as a farmer,
the memories of my childhood's humble home.
"And already I realize that the experience cannot cost so
much as it is worth. Already I find in that day's quiet an antidote and a solace for the feverish, festering cares of the week
which environ it. Already my brook murmurs a soothing
even-song to my burning, throbbing brain, and my trees, gently
stirred by the fresh breezes, whisper to my spirit something
of their own quiet strength and patient trust in God.
"And thus do I faintly realize, but for a brief and flitting
day, the serene joy which shall irradiate the farmer's vocation,
when a fuller and a truer education shall have refined and
chastened his animal cravings, and when science shall have en
380 
IIO-ACE GREELEY.
dowed him with her treasures, redeeming labor from drudgery
while quadrupling its efficiency, and crowning with beauty and
plenty our bounteous, beneficent earth."
In another place he writes thus eloquently of growing old:
"Is it well to desire and pray for length of days? I would
say, so long as our mental faculties remain essentially undo
cayed, it is well, it is desirable to live. The love of life is not
a blind, irrational instinct, but has as its base a just perception
that existence is a blessing, and that even in this "vale of tears,"
its joys outweigh its woes. And besides, our terrestrial course
prepares and shapes us for the life that shall succeed it, which
will be, to a great extent, a continuation, or second edition of
this, with corrections and improvements. Doubtless, Infinite
Mercy has means provided whereby the millions to whom this
life was a blank shall nevertheless be prepared for bliss in the
next; and I trust even those who have misused and culpably
squandered this stage of being will yet be ultimately fitted for
happiness in another. But opportunities wasted can never be
regained; the memory of past unworthiness must ever be humiliating and regretful to the redeemed soul. In vain does
Joseph, revealing himself in Egypt to his treacherous brethren,
entreat them to'Be not angry with yourselves that ye sold
me hither, for God did send me before you to preserve life;'
the view of God needed no vindication, while theirs do not receive any. I apprehend that flagrant transgressors (and who
is or is not of this number, who shall here say?) will ever feel
consciousness of inferiority and self-reproach in the presence of
381 
MODERN AGITATORS.
those who walked worthily on earth-that retrospect of their
darker hours can never be joyful nor welcome to Judas or Magdalen. So long as we may grow therein in wisdom and worth
it is as well, it is desirable to live, but no further. To my
view, insanity is the darkest, the most appalling of earthly ca
lamities; but how much better is an old age that drivels and
wanders, that misunderstands and forgets? When the soul
shall have become choked and smothered by the ruins of its
wasting, falling habitation, I should prefer to inhabit that shattered tenement no longer. I should not choose to stand shuddering and trembling on the brink of the dark river, weakly
drawing back from the chill of its sweeping flood, when faith
assures me that a new Eden stretches green and fair beyond
it, and that the baptism it invites will cleanse the soul of all
that now clogs, clouds, and weighs it to the earth. No, when
the windows of the mind shall be darkened, when the growth
of the soul here shall have been arrested, I would not weakly
cling to the earth which will have ceased to nourish and uphold
me. Rather'let the golden cup be loosed, and the pitcher
broken at the fountain;' let the sun of my existence go down
ere the murky vapors shroud its horizon; let me close my
eyes calmly on the things of earth, and let my weary frame
sleep beneath the clods of the valley; let the spirit, which it
can no longer cherish as a guest, be spared the ignominy of detention as a prisoner; but, freed from the fetters of clay, let it
wing its way through the boundless universe, to wheresoever
the benign Father of spirits shall have assigned it an everlasthome."
382 
HORACE GREELEY.
The defeat of General Scott in 1852 emancipated
lIr. Greely and the Tribune from the shackles of
party and the tyranny of conservatism; it made him
the most free of successful editors, and his paper the
ablest and most fearless journal in America. We
will close our sketch of his life by a glance at him in
his office.
In visiting the Tribune establishment, one should
by no means be content with an introduction
into the editorial sanctum. Hie should first descend
into subterranean regions where the press-work of
the Tribune is executed.  A view of the mammoth
press, which, with its iron fingers, throws off fifteen
thousand impressions an hour, will give him an idea
of the business of the establishment. It is a press
which has little rest, for the aggregate circulation of
the Tg"ibune is over one hundred and seventy thousand
copies! *Ascend to the first floor, and view the place
where the business of the paper is conducted-where
its immense advertising patronage is received and accounted for-where all bills against the firm of Greeley & McElrath are settled! Mount still higher, and
see the printers at their work. If it is day, a busy
scene will present itself, yet utter silence pervades the
apartments.  If it be night, it is still the same-each
case is manned, and the work progresses under a new
set of workmen, as rapidly as by day. Floor above
floor, is occupied by the industrious printers, and the
383 
MODERISN AGITATORS.
clerks who each day send off tens of thousands of
papers, and one day in each week, more than one
hundred thousand.   But we have  not visited the
place where the burning thoughts which are the life
of the Tribune, are put upon paper.  It is in the highest story but one, fronting on the park.  We first enter a long room fronting Spruce street, and extending to Nassau street.  Hiere the sub-editors work.
A row of them, each seated at his desk and plying the
pen or scissors industriously, attracts our attention.
George Ripley, a fine, manly person, with dark hair
and darker eyes, sits at one.- Hie is the literary editor of the Tribune, the book critic, and one would
hardly suppose from his bland manners that his business, like that of a surgeon, consists in cutting people up! A book lies open before him-he is marking
passages for extraction, and to-morrow morning we
shall read them in the moist pages of the journal, as
we sip our coffee, together with the critic's remarks.
Bayard Taylor, perhaps, sits at another desk, just returned from a profitable lecturing tour, and we stop
to gaze at the brilliant young traveler. Not far off
sits white-haired "Solon "-Solon Robinson, the anthor of "I Hot Corn "-the agricultural and city item
editor of the Tril utew.  We skip the other editors in
this room, and pass into a smaller apartment looking
out upon the City Hiall. The room is newly carpeted
.-in one corner, there is an old-fashioned sofa —easy
384: 
HORACE GREELEY.
chairs, three or four, are to be seen, and in one corner
at a desk stands a slim, black-haired, brilliant-eyed
man, in a pair of exceedingly old and easy shoes.
His name is Charles A. Dana, and he is editor-inchief when Greeley is out of town, and is usually
termed the foreign editor of the Tribune.  In another
corner of the room a man sits writing at a desk which
is just even with his chin, so that while he pushes his
pen swiftly over the paper he sits perfectly straight in
his chair. He is a short-sighted, and his eyes hug the
desk.  He is a strange looking mortal.  His head is
almost bald; what hair there is, is of a light, sandy
color, and is exceedingly fine.  He is dressed-well,
we may as well speak it right out-abominably. It is
Horace Greeley, the chief editor of the Tribune,
upon his throne! It is the poor plow-boy controlling the.grandest, the most powerful press in America.  He turns to welcome us, and we notice that after all he has a fine face-a gentle look it ever wears.
The eyes are not harsh or bold, but mild and honest.
And though his manners are not of the Lord Chestelrfield stripe, they are those of a man who values
trifles less than realities.  His thoughts are bold and
Striking; he has charity for an honest opponent; if
we differ from him upon any point, we shall not necessarily lose his esteem, for though a man of fixed
opinions, he is not an egotist. Spite of a thousand
things which at first prepossessed us against the man,
Q                            25
385 
MODERN AGITATORS.
we like him better and better, the more we see of
him and hear him talk. Our opinion of his intellectual powers and his moral qualities of course cannot
be altered by any personal contact with the man.
We have known him as the invisible soul behind the
Tribune for years-and now we gaze upon-the Triune made flesh and blood!
386 
0 
~  ~ff~~~~~~~~I~/jj~j~~ii/~ 
THURLOW WEED BROWN.
ONE of the most powerful advocates of the temperance cause is the man whose name heads this brief
sketch. He is powerful in a somewhat peculiar way,
not like Choate or Phillips, with the very highest or.
der of eloquence, nor like Sumner, with a chastened,
classical eloquence. Hie is powerful with the people.
Upon a vast gathering of sturdy yeomen in one of
"God's own temples," he will make a most profound
impression.  He overflows with natural eogquence.
He knows little of the schools of rhetoric, but he
knows the human heart. His own is sensitive as a
girl's. No wrong can be perpetrated upon one of
his fellow-men without rousing his indignation. He
knew in childhood what it was to suffer from intemperance of the nearest friends, and he grew up hating the traffickers in "liquid damnation" as he hated
their father, the devil. He utters to the people before him words which burn-sentences which blaze
with fire. They are not smooth, are not always elaborated, but they find their way to the hearts of his
hearers.
The following extract from his "Temperance Tales
and Hearthstone Reveries," presents at one view the 
MODERN AGITATORS.
causes of his temperance predilections, his direct and
vigorous style, and his warm domestic attachments,
as shown in the finest tribute to a mother which we
have ever seen:
"Lastly, we are against it for a mother's sake. To her we
ascribe the holiest of our temperance teachings, and to her history that deep and sleepless hatred of the rum traffic. A tear
will come to your eye as we write of that hallowed name. She
sits before us now, and we look with a holy love and a misty
eye upon the locks fast silvering with gray. That idol has
been shivered at your own hearth-side, but her temperance
teachings and fervent prayers for her wayward boy will not,
cannot be forgotten by him.
"A vision passes before us. There is a home, in New En.
gland, of happiness and comfort, and a lovely matron makes
one of the links of the family circle. Again she stands at the
altar, atd weaves her destiny irrevocably with that of the man
of her choice.
"Years pass happily and swiftly by, and the young bride is
a happy mother. Fresh blessings are added to the first, but
in the mean time a shadow has fallen upon that heart and its
home. A tempter has glided into the Eden, and wreathed its
coils around the husband and father.
"Other years go by, and ruin is in that home. The mother
weeps and prays, and gathers more closely her children around
her, as the storm bursts in its fury. Want, neglect, and abuse
wring her aching heart. She fades out like the autumn leaf,
and with a cruished heart sinks to the rest of death, and is
388 
THURLOW WEED BROWN.
borne to a pauper's grave; and ten brothers and sisters weep
over the last home of one who can no longer shield them from
hunger or the cruel blow.
"An officer steps within the abode of poverty and wretchedness, and drags away all to satisfy an execution in favor of
the rumseller, who has swallowed the living of that family and
placed the mother in her grave. The once high-minded, but
now lost and imbruted father, sells the cow and riots the proceeds out at a drunkery, and leaves the children to the charities of friends.
"A girl of fifteen summers toils in a factory until her heart
and brain ache, and she turns away to the lone group at the
desolate hearth, and sinks hungry to her fitful rest. The coldtongued bell breaks in upon short slumbers, and drives the
slight and weary frame again to its bitter task. Saturday
night finds her turning homeward with a feverish cheek and a
heavy step. A father calls at the office of the superintendent,
secures her earnings, and during the Sabbath squanders it all
at the grog-shop with his boon companions!
" The factory girl once idolized that father. But hunger,
and poverty, and abuse, have taught her to hate him; and as
he goes to the groggery in the morning, an involuntary prayer
goes up from the child's heart that he will no more return.
So accursing are the effects of rum!
"Long and weary days pass away, and yet the factory girl
toils, and at night gathers with her brothers and sisters gratefully around a loaf of brown bread. There is a jug of rum on
the shelf, and an imbruted father slumbering on the hearth.
" —A  dark and cheerless pathway opens to the factory girl.
389 
MODERN AGITATORS.
"The worse than orphans are driven out from the wretched
home and scattered here and there as paupers, kept by the
towr. One little girl, a fair-haired, blue-eyed, beautiful creature of three summers, is taken by a family. Away in an
entry-away, without sufficient clothing, hungry, and no eye but
God's to look kindly down upon her, she dies in the winter
night-dies cold, hungry, and covered with vermin!-and the
older sister could not even weep upon the child-pauper's grave,
her of the fair hair and wild blue eye.
"With the brand which society once cruelly affixed upon
the brow of the drunkard's child, the factory girl entered into
the great battle of life. Without education or friends, she
was compelled to perform the most menial drudgery. The
shadows that then clouded the sky of her youth have mingled
with and darkened the happiness of after years. Her brothers
grew up, and some of them followed in the footsteps of their
father, and became drunkards. One was drowned near Albany. Another rests beneath a southern soil. A younger
one, a faultless model of manly beauty, and as noble in heart
as in form, was taken by pirates at sea, and killed only when
he towered the last of his crew upon the slippery decks, and
his arms were hewn from his body. Two others wrestle
now with an appetite which dogs their footsteps with remorse.
less craving, and but one lives the soul of manhood and honor.
"Thus were those linked to her by the strongest ties that
can bind us to each other, wrenched away, and driven up and
down the world. The father lived on a drunkard, and at a
ripe old age died a drunkard by the roadside, and not a stone
tells where he sleeps.
390 
THURLOW WEED BROWN.
6Such are but the outlines of a childhood and youth of suf.
fering, humiliation, and sorrow. The details are known only
to the sufferer and to God.  Memory rolls back upon its bit
ter tide the history of such scenes, the fountain of tears is
opened afresh, and flows as bitterly as in the past.  Childhood
without sunshine! The thought is cold and dark indeed.
"This hasty sketching would apply to unnumbered  thousands of such cases. As the sands upon the shore, the blades
in the meadow, or the leaves in summertime, or the stars that
glitter in the blue above, are the histories of such ravages upon
the hopes and happiness of youth. They will never be known
until the record of the angel shall be unrolled at the judgment.
"That factory girl-that drunkard's daughter-that childpauper, who toiled while a drunken father drank down her wages-who went hungry for bread —who was deprived of society and education, and entered upon life's stern realities with
no inheritance but poverty and a father's infamy-is ouR
MOTHER!.
"God! how the veins knot and burn as the tide whose every
drop is bitter with the memory of her wrongs sweeps to our
fingers' ends. Our soul throbs firmly in our nib, until we
clutch involuntarily for a good blade, and wish the ruin traffic
embodied in one demon form, that we could go forth with
God's blessings and smite the hell-born monster. We look
upon her head, now thickly flecked with threads of silver, and
wish that the temperance reform could have dawned in her
day. We look upon the tear that steals down her cheek as
the dark days of yore are called up, and our manhood's cheek
burns with indignation. She was robbed-cruelly, basely rob.
39i 
MODERN AGITATORS.
bed. She hungered for bread to eat! She was threatened
with the vengeance of a rumseller if she would not toil in his
household for the merest pittance!  She was shut out of society and its privileges because she had no home. She was
pointed at as a drunkard's child! She toiled until her heart
ached with pain, and the rumseller clutched from the hand of
an imbruted father the last penny of her hard earnings!  OUR
MOTHER! God of justice and truth! give us but the power
to-day, and we would strangle every hydra whose breath is
blasting the hope of others as it blasted hers.
"To that mother we owe the most of our hatred to the rum
traffic. We imbibed it from her breast, and learned of her in
childhood. A father, too, his strong form untainted by the
scourge, has taught us the same lesson. The memories of his
own childhood are darkened by the thoughts of a drunken
father. Hie grappled alone with life's difficulties, and conmmenced his career by working to pay rumsellers' executions
against his deceased father.
"Thus from the cradle have we been educated to hate the
scourge. That hatred is mingled with every pilgrim drop in
our veins. It grows with our growth and strengthens with our
strength. In the high noon of manhood we swear, by friends
on earth and God in heaven, a lifelong warfare, if need be,
against the traffic. There can be no compromise. It is a conflict of extermination, and the blows will only fail when the
battle of life is ended, and our strong right arm is mingled
with its mother dust. We will wear our harness to the
grave, and make Hannibals of those who come after us, to
fight on."
392
i 
THIURLOW WEED BROWN.
As a writer Mr. Brown has no mean reputation.
His characteristics as such are similar to his peculiarities as a speaker. There is this difference: his intense love of nature, and of the beautiful everywhere,
gushes forth with more ease and freedom in his writings than in his speeches. This is very natural, for
the beautiful is born of quiet.
Mr. Brown was born in Preston, Chenango county,
New York, in the year 1819. Ihis father was a farmer and carriage maker. Hle came originally from
Connecticut. Thurlow's mother's maiden name was
Wood. Hie learned the carriage-maker's trade in his
father's shop, working in it till May, 1839, when,
with his parents, he moved into Sterling Cayuga
county, New York, working on the farm and in the
shop alternately until 184:7. lHe had before this several times ventured to address meetings in the "rural
districts" of the county, and had written articles for
the local journals, though he had received but a spare
common-school education. During the license law
contest of 184:5 he labored incessantly for the triumph of temperance at the ballot-box. He was
often carried by his father from a sick-bed to attend
temperance meetings, for the father was full of ardor
which he infused into his son.    In the latter part
of this year Thurlow wrote a series of articles for the
Star of Temperance, a weekly journal, published at
Auburn, which attracted much attention.  Their. elo
393 
MODERN AGITATORS.
quence impressed its patrons as well as its publishers
deeply. He was at length invited to occupy its
chair editorial. And rough, rustic, and unused to
any but country customs, he went to Auburn. In
April, 1848, the Star was removed to Rochester, and
he withdrew from it. When he took hold of it, its
circulation was but four hundred; when hlie left, it
had risen to three thousand-the best compliment
any editor can receive. In January, 1849, he issued
the first number of the Cayuga CAief, of which he is
an editor now. He started with a capital of seven
dollars, and a circulation of one hundred and seventy!
Under his editorship and management it has risen to
a circulation of three thousand copies. His mechanical genius is worth noting, and as he had no money
to commence his enterprise with, he actually made,
with 4is own hands, much of the furniture of his office. He worked on bravely, industriously, and eloquently. This year he married a woman worthy of
himself, and to whom he is ardently attached. Home
is his peculiar element; and his "Hearthstone Reveries" give unmistakable evidence that his chief attraction, the center of his happiness, is there. Long
may he live to battle manfully in the cause to which
he is so earnestly devoted.
The following, on the death of his beautiful boy,
the lovely Willie, is one of the most sweetly pathetic
things in our language:
394 
THURLOW WEED BROWN. 
"A BROKEN HOME."
A short time since, we left the cherished idol of our hearth
circle in the full promise of health and life, and returned but
to see him die!  Our home is desolate, for its purest light has
faded out.  WILLIE, is dead!
O God, how we loved the boy! He was a child of more
than rare promise - a brave, beautiful, noble-hearted being
and all manhood in every pulse. His mind was almost
masculine, and he wrestled with death with the calm patience
and judgment of maturer years.
Would that in the springtime he had gone to his long nightrest of death, when the flower, and leaf, and tiny blade were
bursting out from their earth-sleep to clothe the fields in
beauty. But it matters not. He wandered not alone through
the dark valley, "for of such is the kingdom of heaven." The
warm sunbeam and raindrop of spring-time will deck the
resting-place.of the little sleeper with smiles. Little will
he heed, however, either sunbeam or cloud on earth, for there
is no winter shadow in the eternal summer-sky of bliss.
Blessed hope, that death is not an "eternal sleep!" The
beautiful tenement of a soul of two summers will mingle
with its pillow of earth; but in the silence of the night-time
we shall listen to the tripping of little feet, and the low whispering of a silvery voice; to the sweet rustling of two little
angel-wings, and feel the pure touch of a tiny palm upon the
feverish cheek. One of the strongest links of earth has been
broken but to bind us the closer to heaven. God's will be
done!
The little playthings are all put away. A deep tide of
395 
MODERN AGITATORS.
bright hopes has been rolled back in a bitter flood upon the
heart. Crushed and broken, we bow to the storm that has
swept our earth, and thank God that there is a better world
than this for the child.
WILLIEr! our  own  loved, beautiful, gentle boy, good
night!
396
I}