YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS

Vol. Xni. JULY, 1903. No, t

By Elbert Hubbard

Single Copies, 25 cents

By the Year, $3«oo

LITTLE JOURNEYS
TO THE HOMES OF
EM I NP N T O R A T O R S
By ELBER^HUBBARD

¦iiif I

SUBJECTS AS FOLLOWS:
I Pericles 7 Marat
2 Mark Antony 8 Robert Inee^rsoU
3 Savonarola 9 John Randolph
4 Martin Luther 10 Thomas Starr King
5 Edmund Burke 11 Henry Ward Beecher
6 William Pitt 12 Wendell Phillips
One booklet a month will be issued as usual, begin
ning on January i si.
The LITTLE JOURNEYS for 1903 will be strictly
de luxe in form and workmanship. The type will be a
new font of antique blackface; the initials designed
especially for this work; a frontispiece portrait from
the original drawing tnade at our Shop. The booklets
will be stitched by hand with silk.
The price — 25 cents each, or $3.00 for the year.*
Address THE RiilYCROFTERS at their
Shop, which is at East Aurora, New York

Entered at the psstofiice at East "Aurora, New York, for Uansmission
as second'Class iaal| matter. Copyright, 190a, by Elbert Hwbbard

Hcnc *s to the IDan
CUbo Can Do Cbings!

WE live in a day of specialization. Let a
man prove to the world that he can
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always fall back on Heinz. \^ZXZ '0 tO \^t\n^i

PHALANSTERY
The word was first used by Fourier, and
means literally "the home of friends." The
ROYCROFT PHALANSTERY, with its new
addition, just completed, consists of a kitchen,
scientific and modern in all of its appointments;
a dining-room that seats a hundred people;
thirty-eight sleeping rooms; reception rooms,
etc., etc. That is to say it is an INN, managed
somewhat like a Swiss Monastery, simple, yet
complete in all of its appointments — where the
traveler is made welcome. There are always a
few visitors with us. Some remain simply for a
meal, others stay a day, or a week, or a month.
A few avail themselves of the services of our
Musical Director, the Physical Instructor, or
take lessons in drawing and painting. C. The
prices: Meals, such as they are, say twenty-
five cents; lodging, fifty cents. If parties of a
dozen or more want accommodations, it is well
to telegraph ahead to THE BURSAR of
THE ROYCROFTERS
EAST AURORA, NEW YORK

HE BEST VALUE,
perhaps, in Roycroft Books is
in the De Luxe copies of the
LITTLE JOURNEYS. These
Volumes are One Dollar each,
and they are the only One Dol
lar books the Roycrofters have ever made or
will ever make. On hand-made paper, bound
in limp chamois, silk lined, silk marker, hand-
illumined. We have a few on hand of each of
the following subjects:

William Morris

Robert Burns

Macaulay

Southey

Robert Browning

John Milton

Byron

Coleridge

Tennyson

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Addison

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Whistler

Just One Dollar each — there is no profit in these books
for us, but they keep our boys and girls busy, and
show the ^vorld what we can do.
The Roycrofters, East Aurora

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" Our family physician examined Postum and
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"We all think it has no equal as a nourishment
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a neighbor was praising Postum and mother
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"They improved at once and have drank Postum
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is in splendid health novr. She says the change
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Battle Creek, Michigan.

Jean Paul Marat

iLittle im^
poupneysI To tbe i*iomc$ of
EMINENT ORATORS lUpitten byElbeitt
Hubbaitd Ss done
into a Book bytbc
Roycitof tep$ at tbe
$bop, tobicb is in
East Jlupoita, tleio
Yoitk, fl. D. 1908

bcl4%2

JEAN PAUL MARAT

/"CITIZENS: You see before you the widow of Marat. I do not
^^ come here to ask your favors, such as cupidity would covet, or
even such as would relieve indigence, — Marat's widow needs no
more than a tomb. Before arriving at that happy termination to my
existence, however, I come to ask that justice may be done in respect
to the reports recently put forth in this body against the memory of
at once the most intrepid and the most outraged defenders of the
people. ***** — SIMONNE EVRARD MARAT, to the Convention.

JEAN PAUL MARAT

|HE French Revolution traces a lineal
I descent direct from Voltaire and Jean
I Jacques Rousseau. These men were
contennporaries ; they came to the same
conclusions, expressing the same
thought, each in his own way, absolute
ly independent of the other. And as
I genius seldom recognizes genius, neither
kne\7 the greatness of the other.
Voltaire was an aristocrat — the friend
of kings and courtiers, the brilliant
cynic, the pet of the salons and the cen
ter of the culture and brains of his time.
Q Rousseau v^as a man of the people,
plain and unpretentious — a man with
out ambition — a dreamer. His first writ
ings were mere debating-society mono-
I logues, done for his o^vn amusement
and the half dozen or so cronies who
cared to listen.
But, as he wrote, things came to him —
the significance of his words became to
him apparent. Opposition made it neces
sary to define his position, and threat
I made it wise to amplify and explain.
He grew through exercise, as all men
do who grow at all ; the spirit of the
times acted upon him, and knowledge
unrolled as a scroll.

JEAN PAUL MARAT

The sum of Rousseau's political philosophy found
embodiment in his book, "The Social Contract," and
his ideas on education in "Lavania." "The Social
Contract" became the bible of the Revolution, and as
Emerson says all of our philosophy vtrill be found in
Plato, so in a more exact sense can every argument
of the men of the Revolution be found in "The Social
Contract." But Rousseau did not knoAV ^vhat fire
brands he was supplying. He was essentially a man
of peace — he launched these children of his brain, in
differently, like his children of the flesh, upon the
world and left their fate to the god of Chance.
OUT of the dust and din of the French Revo
lution, now seen by us on the horizon of time,
there emerge four names: Robespierre, Mira-
beau, Danton and Marat.
Undaunted men all, hated and loved, feared and idol
ized, despised and deified — even yet we find it hard to
gauge their worth, and give due credit for the good
that was in each.
Oratory played a most important part in bringing
about the explosion. Oratory arouses passion — fear,
vengeance, hate — and draws a beautiful picture of
peace and plenty just beyond.
Without oratory there would have been no political
revolution in France, nor elsewhere.
Politics, more than any other function of human affairs.

JEAN PAUL MARAT

turns on oratory. Orators make and unmake kings,
but kings are seldom orators, and orators never secure
thrones. Orators are made to die — the cross, the torch,
the noose, the guillotine, the dagger awaits them.
They die through the passion that they fan to flame —
the fear they generate turns upon themselves, and
they are no more.
But they have their reward. Their names are not writ
in ^vater, rather are they traced in blood on history's
page. 'We know them, while the ensconced smug and
successful have sunk into oblivion; and if now and
then a name like that of Pilate or Caiphas or Judas
comes to us, it is only because fate has linked the
man to his victim, like unto that Roman soldier who
thrust his spear into the side of the Unselfish Man.
Q In the qualities that mark the four chief orators of the
French Revolution, there is much alloy — much that
seems like clay. Each had undergone an apprentice
ship to Fate — each had been preparing for his work ;
and in this preparation who shall say what lessons
could have been omitted and what not! Explosions
require time to prepare — revolutions, political and
domestic, are a long time getting ready. Orators, like
artists, must go as did Dante, down into the nether
regions and get a glimpse of hell.

JEAN PAUL MARAT

JEAN PAUL MARAT wa^je^actiy^vejeetjhis^,
and his weight when at his best was one hundred
and twenty pounds — just the weight of Shakes
peare. Jean Paul had a nose like the beak of a hawk,
an eye like an eagle, a mouth that matched his nose,
and a chin that argued trouble. Not only did he have
red hair, but Carlyle refers to him as "red-headed."
Q His parents vrere poor and obscure people, and his
relationship with them seems a pure matter of acci
dent. He was born at the village of Beaudry, Switzer
land, in 1743. His childhood and boyhood were that of
any other peasant boy born into a family wrhere poverty
held grim sway, and toil and hardship never relaxed
their chilling grasp.
His education was of the chance kind — ^but education
anyway depends upon yourself — colleges only supply
a few opportunities, and it lies with the student
whether he will improve them or not.
The ignorance of his parents and the squalor of his
surroundings acted upon Jean Paul Marat as a spur,
and from his fourteenth year the idea of cultivating
his mental estate wras strong upon him.
Switzerland has ever been the refuge of the man who
dares to think. It was there John Calvin lived, de
manding the right to his own belief, but occasionally
denying others that precious privilege; a few miles
away at beautiful Coppet resided Madame de Stael,
the daughter of Necker ; at Geneva, Rousseau wrote,
and to name that beautiful little island in the Rhone

JEAN PAUL MARAT

after him, was not necessary to make his fame endure ;
but a little way from Beaudry lived Voltaire, pointing
his bony finger at every hypocrite in Christendom.
QBut as in Greece, in her days of glory, the thinkers
were few ; so in Switzerland, the land of freedom, the
many have been, and are, chained to superstition.
Jean Paul Marat saw their pride was centered in a
silver crucifix, "that keeps a man from harm," their
conscience committed to a priest; their labors for the
rich; their days the same, from the rising of the sun
to its going down. They did not love, and their hate
^vas but a peevish dislike. They follov^ed their dull
routine and died the death, hopeful that they would
get the reward in another world which was denied
them in this. Q AndJean^^PaaLMarat grew to scorn
the few \yho vrould thus enslaye^the many. For priest
and publican he had only aversion.
Jean Paul Marat, the bantam, read Voltaire and
steeped himself in Rousseau, and the desire grew
strong upon him to do, and dare, and to become.
Tourists had told him of England, and like all hopeful
and child-like minds, he imagined the excellent to be
far-off, and the splendid at a distance : Great Britain
was to him the Land of Promise.
In the coiuntenance of young Marat was a strange
mixture' of iher^^CTOus__ssx±-terrihle. This, with
his insignificant size, and a bodily strength that
was a miracle of surprise, won the admiration of an
English gentleman ; and when the tourist started back

JEAN PAUL MARAT

for Albion, the lusty dwarf rode on the box, duly ar
ticled, without consent of his parents, as a valet.
QAs a servant he was active, alert, intelligent, atten
tive. He might have held his position indefinitely, and
been handed dov^n to the next generation Tvith the
family plate, had he kept a civil tongue in his red
head and not quoted Descartes and Jean Jacques.
QHe had ideas, and he expressed them. He was the
central sun below-stairs, and passed judgment upon
the social order without stint, even to occasionally
argufying economics with his master, the Baron, as
he brushed his breeches.
This Baron is known to history through two facts —
one, that Jean Paul Marat brushed his breeches, and
second, that he evolved a new breed offices.
Now the master was rich, with an entail of six thou
sand acres and an income of five thousand pounds, and
very naturally he was surprised — amazed — to hear
that any one should question the divine origin of the
social order j^ <r
Religion and government being at that time not merely
second cousins, but Siamese twins, Jean Paul had ex
pressed himself on things churchly as well as secular.
QAnd now, behold, one fine day he found himself
confronted with a charge of blasphemy, not to men
tion another damning count of contumacy and con
travention if jgr
In fact, he was commanded not to think, and was
cautioned as to the sin of having ideas. The penalties

JEAN PAUL MARAT

were pointed out to Jean Paul, and in all kindness he
v^as asked to make choice between immediate punish
ment and future silence.
Thus >vas the wee philosopher raised at once to the
dignity of a martyr ; and the sweet satisfaction of be
ing persecuted for what he believed, was his.
The city of Edinburgh was not far away, and thither
by night the victim of persecution made his way.
There is a serio-comic touch to this incident that ,
Marat ^vas never quite able to appreciate — the man
Avas not a humorist. In fact, men headed for the
noose, the block, or destined for immortality by the
assassin's dagger, very seldom are jokers — John Brown
and his like do not jest. Of all the emancipators of
men, Lincoln alone stands out as one who was per
fectly sane. An ability to see the ridiculous side of
things marks the man of perfect balance.
The martyr type, whose blood is not only the seed of
the church, but of heresy, is touched with madness.
To get the thing done. Nature sacrifices the man.
fl[ Arriving in Edinburgh, Marat thought it necessary
for a time to live in hiding, but finally he came out
and was duly installed as bar-keep at a tavern, and a
student in the medical department of the University
of St. Andrews — a rather peculiar combination.
Marat's sister and biographer, Albertine, tells us that
Jean Paul was never given to the use of stimulants,
and in fact, for the greater part of his career, was a
total abstainer. And the man who knows somewhat

8  JEAN PAUL MARAT
of the eternal paradox of things can readily under
stand how this little tapster, proud and defiant, had a
supreme contempt for the patrons wrho gulped down
the stuff that he handed out over the bar. He dealt
in that for which he had no use ; and the American
bartender to-day who wears his kohinoor and draws
the pay of a bank cashier, is one who "never touches
/a drop of anything." The security with which he
' holds his position is on that very account.
Marat was hungry for knowledge and thirsty for
truth, and in his daily life he was as abstemious as
was Benjamin Franklin, whom he was to meet, know,
and reverence shortly afterward.
Jean Paul was studying medicine at the same place
where Oliver Goldsmith, another exile, studied some
years before. Each got his doctor's degree, just how we
do not know. No one ever saw Goldsmith's diploma —
Dr. Johnson once hinted that it ^vas an astral one —
but Marat's is still with us, yellow with age, but
plain and legible with all of its signatures and the
big seal with a ribbon that surely might impress the
chance sufferers %vaiting in an outer room to see the
doctor, \vho is busy enjoying his siesta on the other
side of the partition.

JEAN PAUL MARAT

IF it is ever your sweet privilege to clap eyes upon
a diploma issued by the ancient and honorable
University of St. Andrews, Edinburgh, you will
see that it reads thus :
"\Vhereas : Since it is just and reasonable that one
who has diligently attained a high degree of knowl
edge in some great and useful science, should be dis
tinguished from the ignorant-vulgar," etc., etc.
The intent of the document, it will be observed, is to
certify that the holder is not one of the "ignorant-
vulgar," and the inference is that those who are not
possessed of like certificates probably are.
A copy of the diploma issued to Dr. Jean Paul Marat
is before me, wherein, in most flattering phrase, is
set forth the attainments of the holder, in the science
of medicine. And even before the ink was dry upon
that diploma, the "science" of which it boasted, had
been discarded as inept and puerile, and a new one
inaugurated. And in our day, within the last twenty-
five years, the entire science of healing has shifted
ground and the materia medica of the "Centennial"
is now considered obsolete.
In view of these things, how vain is a college degree
that certifies, as the diplomas of St. Andrews still
certify, that the holder is not one of the "ignorant-
vulgar!" Is n't a man who prides himself on not be
longing to the "ignorant-vulgar" apt to be atrociously
ignorant and outrageously vulgar ?
Wisdom is a point of view, and knowledge, for the

lo  JEAN PAUL MARAT
most part, is a shifting product depending upon envi
ronment, atmosphere and condition. The eternal
verities are plain and simple, knovtrn to babes and
sucklings, but often unseen by men of learning, who
focus on the difficult, soar high and dive deep, but
seldom pay cash. In the sky of truth the fixed stars
are few, and the shepherds who tend their flocks by
night, are quite as apt to know them as are the pro
fessed and professional Wise Men of the East — and
Edinburgh if if

BUT never mind our little digression — the value
of study lies in study. The reward of thinking
is the ability to think, and whether one comes
to right conclusions or wrong, matters little, says John
Stuart Mill in his essay "On Liberty."
Thinking is a form of exercise, and growth comes
only through exercise; that is to say, expression.
QW^e learn things only to throw them away: no man
ever wrote well until he had forgotten every rule of
rhetoric, and no orator ever spake straight to the
hearts of men until he had tumbled his elocution into
the Irish Sea if if
To hold on to things is to lose them. To clutch is to
act the part of the late Mullah Bah, the Turkish
wrestler, who came to America and secured through
his prowess a pot of gold. Going back to his native
country, the steamer upon which he had taken passage

JEAN PAUL MARAT  ii
collided in mid-ocean with a sunken derelict. Mullah
Bah, hearing the alarm, jumped from his berth and
strapped to his person a belt containing five thousand
dollars in gold. He rushed to the side of the sinking
ship, leaped over the rail, and went to Davy Jones'
Locker like a plummet, while all about frail women
and weak men in life preservers bobbed on the sur
face and were soon picked up by the boats. The fate
of Mullah Bah is only another proof that athletes die
young, and that it is harder to withstand prosperity
than its opposite.
But knowledge did not turn the head of Marat. His
restless spirit was reaching out for expression, and
we find him drifting to London for a wider field.
England was then as now the refuge of the exile.
There is to-day just as much liberty, and a little
more free speech, in England than in America. W^e
have hanged witches and burned men at the stake
since England has, and she emancipated her slaves
long before we did ours. Over against the home-
thrust that respectable women drink at public bars
from John O'Groat's to Land's End, can be placed the
damning count that in the United States more men
are lynched every year than Great Britain legally exe
cutes in double the time,
A too ready expression of the Rousseau philosophy
had made things a bit unpleasant for Marat in Edin
burgh, but in London he found ready listeners, and
the coffee-houses echoed back his radical sentiments.

12  JEAN PAUL MARAT
CJ These underground debating clubs of London started
more than one man off on the oratorical transverse.
Swift, Johnson, Reynolds, Goldsmith, Garrick, Burke —
all sharpened their wits at the coffee-houses. I see the
same idea is now being revived in Ne\v York and
Chicago : little clubs of a dozen or so will rent a room
in some restaurant, and fitting it up for themselves,
will dine daily and discuss great themes, or small,
according to the mental calibre of the members.
During the latter part of the eighteenth century these
clubs were very popular in London. Men who could
talk or speak were made welcome, and if the new
member generated caloric, so much the better — ex
citement was at a premium.
Marat was now able to speak English with precision,
and his slight French accent only added a charm to
his words. He was fiery, direct, impetuous. He was a
fighter by disposition and care was taken never to
cross him beyond a point where the sparks began to
fly. The man was immensely diverting and his size
was to his advantage — orators should be very big or
very little — anything but commonplace. The Duke of
Mantua would have gloried in Jean Paul, and later
might have cut off' his head as a precautionary
measure if if
Among the visitors at one of the coffee-house clubs
was one B. Franklin, big, patient, kind. He weighed
twice as much as Marat: and his years were sixty,
while Marat's were thirty.

>EAN PAUL MARAT 13
Franklin listened with amused smiles at the little
man, and the little man grew to have an idolatrous
regard for the big 'un. Franklin carried copies of a
pamphlet called " Common Sense," written by one T.
Paine. Paine was born in England, but was always
pleased to be spoken of as an American, yet he called
himself "A Citizen of the World."
Paine's pamphlet, "The Crisis," was known by heart
to Marat, and the success of Franklin and Paine as
writers had fired him to w^rite as well as orate.
As a result, we have "The Chains of Slavery." The
work to-day has no interest to us excepting as a liter
ary curiosity. It is a composite of Rousseau and Paine,
done by a sophomore in a mood of exaltation, and
might serve well as a graduation essay, done in F
major. It lacks the poise of Paine, and the reserve of
Rousseau, and all the fine indifference of Franklin is
noticeable by its absence.
They say that Marat's name was "Mara" and his
ancestors came from County Do^vn. But never mind
that — his heart was right. Of all the inane imbecilities
and stupid untruths of history, none are worse than
the statements that Jean Paul Marat was a dema
gogue, hotly intent on the main chance.
In this man's character there was nothing subtle,
secret, nor untrue. He was simplicity itself, and his
undiplomatic bluntness bears witness to his honesty.
Cfln London, he lived as the Mayor of Boston said
¦William Lloyd Garrison lived — in a hole in the ground.

14  JEAN PAUL MARAT
His services as a physician were free to all — if they
could pay, all right, if not, it made no difference. He
looked after the wants of political refugees, and head,
heart and pocket-book were at the disposal of those
who needed them. His lodging place was a garret, a
cellar — anywhere, he was homeless, and his public
appearances were only at the coffee-house clubs, or
the parks where he would stand on a barrel and speak
to the crowd on his one theme of liberty, fraternity
and equality. His plea was for the individual. In order
to have a strong and excellent society, vre must have
strong and excellent men and women. That phrase of
Paine's, "The world is my country: to do good is my
religion," he repeated over and over again.

IN the year 1779, Marat moved to Paris. He was
then thirty-six years old. In Paris he lived very
much the same life that he had in London. He
established himself as a physician, and might have
made a decided success had he put all of his eggs
in one basket and then watched the basket.
But he did n't. Franklin had inspired him with a pas
sion for invention : he rubbed amber with wool, made
a battery and applied the scheme in a crude way to
the healing art. He wrote articles on electricity and
even foreshadowed the latter day announcement that
electricity is life. And all the time he discussed eco
nomics, and gave out through speech and written

JEAN PAUL MARAT  15
word his views as to the rights of the people. He saw
the needs of the poor — he perceived how through lack
of nourishment there developed a craving for stimu
lants, and observed how disease and death fasten
themselves upon the ill-fed and the ill-taught. To al
leviate the suffering of the poor, he opened a dispen
sary as he had done in London, and gave free medical
attendance to all who applied. At this dispensary, he
gave lectures on certain days upon hygiene, at which
times he never failed to introduce his essence of
Rousseau and Voltaire.
Some one called him "the people's friend." The name
stuck — he liked it.
In August, 1789, this "terrible dwarf" was standing
on his barrel in Paris haranguing crowds with an
oratory that was tremendous in its impassioned qual
ity. Men stopped to laugh and remained to applaud.
C(Not only did he denounce the nobility, but he saw
danger in the liberal leaders, and among others, Mira-
beau came in for scathing scorn. Of all the insane
paradoxes this one is the most paradoxical — that men
will hate those who are most like themselves. Family
feuds, and the wrangles of denominations that, to
outsiders, hold the same faith, are common. 'When
churches are locked in America, it is done to keep
Christians out. Christians fight Christians much more
than they fight the devil.
Marat had grown to be a power among the lower
classes— he was their friend, their physician, their

i6  JEAN PAUL MARAT
advocate. He feared no interruption and never sought
to pacify. At his belt, within easy reach, and in open
sight, he carried a dagger.
His impassioned eloquence swayed the crowds that
hung upon his v^ords to rank unreason.
Marat fell a victim to his own eloquence, and the
madness of the mob reacted upon him. Like the
dyer's hand, he became subdued to that Tvhich he
worked in. Suspicion and rebellion filled his soul.
¦Wealth to him was an offense — he had not the
prophetic vision to see the rise of capitalism and
all the splendid industrial evolution which the
world is to-day working out. Society to him was
all founded on wrong premises and he would up
root Mt if if
In bitter words he denounced the Assembly and de
clared that all of its members, including Mirabeau,
should be hanged for their inaction in n"ot' giving the
people relief from their oppressors.
Mirabeau was very much like Marat. He, too, ^vas
'working for the people, only he occupied a public
office, vrhile Marat was a private citizen. Mirabeau
and his friends became alarmed at the influence
Marat was gaining over the people, and he was or
dered to cease public speaking. As he failed to comply,
a price was put upon his head.
Then it was that he began putting out a daily address
in the form of a tiny pamphlet. This was at first called
"The Publiciste," but was soon changed to "The

JEAN PAUL MARAT  17
People's Friend." C( Marat was now in hiding, but
still his words v^ere making their impress.
In 1791, Mirabeau, the terrible, died — died peacefully
in his bed. Paris vtrent in universal mourning, and the
sky of Marat's popularity was darkened.
Marat lived in hiding until August of 1792, when he
again publicly appeared and led the riots. The people
hailed him as their deliverer. The insignificant size of
the man made him conspicuous. His proud defiance,
the haughtiness of his countenance, his stinging words,
formed a personality that made him the pet of the
people if if
Danton, the Minister of Justice, dared not kill him,
and so he did the next best thing — he took him to his
heart and made him his right-hand man. It was a
great diplomatic move, and the people applauded.
Danton was tall, powerful, athletic and commanding,
just past his thirtieth year. Marat was approaching
fifty, and his suffering while in hiding in the sewers
had told severely on his health, but he was still the
fearless agitator. When Marat and Danton appeared
upon the balcony of the Hotel de Ville, the hearts of
the people were with the little man.
But behold, another man had forged to the front, and
this was Robespierre. And so it was that Danton,
Marat and Robespierre formed a triumvirate, and
ruled Paris with hands of iron. Coming in the name of
the people, proclaiming peace, they held their place
only through a violence that argued its own death.

i8  JEAN PAUL MARAT
C(Marat was still full of the desire to educate — to make
men think. Deprivation and disease had wrecked his
frame until public speaking was out of the question —
the first requisite of oratory is health. But he could
write, and so his little paper, "The People's Friend,"
went fluttering forth with its daily message.
So scrupulous v^as Marat in money matters that he
would accept no help from the government. He neither
drew a salary nor \vould he allow any but private
citizens to help issue his paper. He lived in absolute
poverty with his beloved wife, Simonne Evrard.
They had met about 1788, and between them had
grown up a very firm and tender bond. He was twenty
years older than she, but Danton said of her, " She
has the mind of a man."
Simonne had some property and was descended from
a family of note. When she became the wife of Marat,
her kinsmen denounced her, refused to mention her
name, but she was loyal to the man she loved.
The psalmist speaks of something "that passeth the
love of woman," but the psalmist was wrong — noth
ing does if if
Simonne Evrard gave her good name, her family po
sition, her money, her life — her soul into the keeping
of Jean Paul Marat. That his love and gratitude to
her were great and profound, there is abundant proof.
She was his only servant, his secretary, his comrade,
his friend, his wife. Not only did she attend him in
sickness, but in banishment and disgrace she never

JEAN PAUL MARAT  19
faltered. She even set the type, and at times her arm
pulled the lever of the press that printed the daily
message if if
Let it stand to the eternal discredit of Thomas Carlyle
that he contemptuously disposes of Simonne Evrard,
who represents undying love and unflinching loyalty,
by calling her a "washerwoman." Carlyle, with a
savage strain of Scotch Calvinism in his cold blood,
never kne^v the sacredness of the love of man and
woman — to him sex was a mistake on the part of
God. Even for the sainted Mary of Galilee he has only
a grim and patronizing smile, removing his clay pipe
long enough to say to Milburn, the blind Preacher,
" Oh, yes, a country lass elevated by Catholics into a
wooden image and worshipped as a deity! "
Carlyle never held in his arms a child of his own and
saw the light of love reflected in a baby's eyes ; and
nowhere in his forty-odd volumes does he recognize
the truth that love, art and religion are one. And this .
limitation gives Taine excuse for saying, "He writes
splendidly, but it is neither truth nor poetry."
¦When Charlotte Corday, that poor deluded rustic,
reached the rooms of Marat, under a friendly pretence,
and thrust her murderous dagger to the sick man's
heart, his last breath was a cry freighted with love,
"A moi, chere amie ! "
And death-choked, that proud head drooped, and
Simonne, seeing the terrible deed was done, blocked
the way and held the murderess at bay until help

20  JEAN PAUL MARAT
arrived. Cf Hardly had Marat's tired body been laid to
rest in the Pantheon, before Charlotte Corday's spirit
had gone across the Border to meet his — gone to her
death by the guillotine that was so soon to embrace
both Danton and Robespierre, the men v^ho had in
augurated and popularized it.
All Paris went into mourning for Marat — the public
buildings were draped vrith black, and his portrait dis
played in the Pantheon with the great ones gone. A
pension for life was besto^ved upon his widoTv, and
lavish resolutions of gratitude were laid at her feet in
loving token of what she had done in upholding the
hands of this strong man.
But Paris, the fickle, in two short years repudiated
the pension, the portrait of Marat was removed from
the Pantheon, and his body taken by night to another
resting place if if
Simonne the widow, and Albertine the sister, sisters
now in sorrow, uniting in a mutual love for the dead,
lived but in memory of him.
But Carlyle was right — this was a "washerwoman."
She spent all of her patrimony in aiding her husband
to publish and distribute his writings, and after his
death, when friends proved false and even the obdu
rate kinsmen still considered her name pollution, she
took in washing to earn money that she might defend
the memory of the man she loved.
She ^vas a vtrasher^voman.
I uncover in her presence, and stand with bowed head

JEAN PAUL MARAT  21
in admiration of the woman who gave her life for liberty
and love, and who chose a life of honest toil rather
than accept charity or all that selfishness and soft
luxury had to offer. She was a washerwoman, but
she was more — she was a 'Woman.
Let Carlyle have the credit of using the word "wash
erwoman" as a term of contempt, as though to do
laundry work were not quite as necessary as to pro
duce literature.
The sister and widow wrote his life, republished very
much that he had written, and lived but to keep alive
the name and fame of Jean Paul Marat, whose sole^
crime seemed to be that he was a sincere and honest
man, and was, throughout his life — often unwisely — \
the People's Friend.

The portrait with this number is front a drawing tnade espe
cially for the author hy his friend, Otto J. Schneider. The re
maining five portraits for this year will also he hy Mr. Schneider.

so HERE ENDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME
OF JEAN PAUL MARAT: WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD.
THE BORDERS, INITIALS AND ORNAMENTS DESIGNED
BY SAMUEL WARNER, PRESSWORK BY LOUIS SCHELL,
& THE WHOLE DONE INTO A BOOK BY THE ROYCROFT-
ERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, IN
THE MONTH OF JULY, IN THE YEAR MCMIII S * * * *

From the Glenwood Tavern, Riverside, California.

' ELL, well, well ! We have traveled about eight
thousand miles on this trip, but we never saw a hotel
to equal this. It is built on the plan of the old Mission
Monastery or hospice. There were a line of these
Missions, a hundred years ago, skirting the coast
from San Diego to San Francisco, just a day's jour
ney apart. These Missions were a refuge and a
home for the worn traveler — he could stay as long as he wished and
pay what he could afford, and when he went away he took with
him the blessing of these men of God.
And if they served mankind and made the world better, were they
not truly Men of God ? I think so, and any man who does the same
now, is too.
This hotel is built and furnished after the general style of the Mis
sion. Its mission is to serve mankind and benefit humanity. And
surely if one of those good old monks could drop in here he would
think he was in Paradise. The place is really most luxurious, yet the
luxury is so subdued and unobtrusive that you do not notice it — it
ministers to your every want.
When we were shown to these rooms there was that great half-
bushel basket of roses — the morning dew still on them — upon the
dresser, and baskets of fruit — oranges, bananas, peaches and plums
— on the table. A pitcher of ice water is at hand, and in the funny
little corner cupboard are sugar and lemons galore. And if we run short
of lemons, why, we can just lean out of the casement and pick a few
from that tree where a mocking bird warbles us welcome. No servants
seem to be in sight — they move with soft-slippered feet — and every
where we find this same quiet courtesy and good-cheer and loving
attention. What is beautiful is right. One man's spirit seems to run
thru the place— that man is Frank M. Miller, Royal Roycrofter, fit
successor to the Men of God who looked after the Mission that once
stood on this same spot. Only Frank has Mrs. Frank to help him !
And is n't every man who does things in a masterly way backed up
by a good woman ? Yes, and that is why Frank surpasses any mortal
monk who ever wore a cowl and chimed matin bells. Well, weU, it is
good to be here. What a beautiful world it is !

ROYCROFT

Here is shown a roomy, comfortable settee, built as good as
the Roycroft artisans can make it. Fashioned in oak it is five
feet long, constructed in the old-time way and held together
with pin and slot. Finished in either Flemish or weathered
oak, as desired, the price is $30.
All Roycroft Furniture is made very solid and plain ; it will
last longer than we do and then be as good as new, — nor will
it be out of style. If you are interested, send for our catalog.

The Roycrofters Sew

AURORA
YORK

"-^^^s

'"p'HE curfew tolls the knell
of parting day;
The lowing herd winds
slowly o'er the lea;
The plowman homeward
plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to
darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimmering
landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn
stillness holds.
Save where the beetle wheels
his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull
the distant folds:

This is to announce the Roycroft Edition of
G RAY'S ELEGY
Written in a Country Churchyard
f^PPOSlTE this is a page from the Roycroft
Edition of Gray^s Elegy. There may have been
better, more unique, and more artistic books than
this printed in America, but we do not just re
member what they are. The sample page shown
does not reveal the beauty of the book, for of
course it is not hand-illumined, and the paper is
not equal to that used in the book. It just kind
of gives you a chance to let your inward eye be
hold the wondrous beauty of a book, which might
have been made in heaven, to use the language
of Charles Lamb.
The volume contains twelve diflferent special
border designs, all hand-illumined. Bound in
limp chamois, silk lined. Very suitable for a wed
ding or anniversary present.
Price of the book is Three Dollars, sent to the
Faithful on suspicion.
THE ROrCROFTERS
EAST AURORA, NEW YORK

>^gi

$^ Lisf o/Booksi
II for sale at our Shop ||
Jfe ¦ Mk
^/^ Below is a list of books, some of which have al- ^f^
^^ most disappeared from mortal view. The volumes "^
¦W" are all bound roycroftie, and are offered to the Dis- ^^
^J{» cerning at the prices quoted. The Roycrofters are ^jp
^<M always glad to send their wares for inspection, ^p^
f Therefore, no matter where you reside, drop us a
postal saying what books you would like to see,
c^^ and they will go forward at once.

Aucassin and Nicolete, jSz.oo
Will o' the Mill, 2.00
Old John Burroughs, 2.00
A Christmas Carol, 2.00
Poe's Poems, is. 50
Rubaiyat, 5.00
Contemplations, 5.00
Garcia and Thirteen, 2.00
Little Journeys, accord
ing to binding, $2, jSj & 5.00

Story of a Passion, $z.oo
Golden River, 2.00
Christmas Eve, 2.00
Self-Reliance, 2.00
Maud, 2.00
Dreams, 5.00
Hamlet, 5.00
Lodging for the Night, 2.00
Philistine, Vols. XI to
XVI, inclusive, each, i.oo

The Roycrofters ^NewYor":

TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS

Vol. XIII. AUGUST, 1903. No. a

By ELBERT HUBBARD

"^

Single Copies, 25 cents

By the Year^ $3.00

LITTLE JOURNEYS
*TO THE HOMES OF
EMINENT ORATORS
By ELBERT HUBBARD

SUBJECTS AS FOLLOWS
I Pericles 7 Mar^t
2 Mark Antony 8 Robert IngersoU
3 Savonarola g Patrick Henry
4 Martin Luther 10 Thomas Starr Kingf
5 Edmund Burke 11 Henry Ward Beecher.
6 William Pitt 12 ^Vendell Phillips

r=Si

One booklet a month will be issued as usual, begin
ning on January ist.
The LITTLE JOURNEYS for 1903 will be strictly
de luxe in form ai,nd workmanship. The type will be a
new font of antique blackface ; the initials designed
especially for this work ; a frontispiece portrait ^ni
the original drawing made at our Shopt The booklets
will be stitched by hand with silk. ^^^
The prices— 25 cents each, or $3.00 for HBfyear.

A4dress THE ROYCROFTERS at their
Shop, which is at East Aurora, New York

Entered at the postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission
as second-class mail matter. Cq^Sghr, igb2, by Elbert Hubban)

Cff NO AGENCY or Lecture Bureau
Ji has authority to book engagements for Mr.
Elbert Hubbard the coming season. Hereafter
the Pastor will largely eliminate the eloquence,
and work his logic up into literature. Possibly,
however, he may give a few addresses on occa-
sional trips he may make for the rejuvenation of
his cosmos; so if you are desirous of Oratorical
pyibrations, write the ^ublet & he may arrange it.
-' Address ELBERT HUBBARD H.
East Aurora, N. Y. i- '

THE ONLY EDITION OF THE COMPLETE
WORKS OF ROBERT G. INGERSOLL
THE Dresden Edition of Colonel. IngersoU's works has been compiled
under the personal direction of the members of the author' s immediate
¦ family. It is as complete and perfect as possible, and the only authentic
edition of these works ever published. Many letters of prais^nd commenda
tion are being received constantly from the subscribers to this edition.
The work contains in complete form all of IngersoU's famous orations, such
is"'SAakespedre," "Liberty," "Burns,"" Lincoln," etc. It is filled
with dispassionate discussions upon War, Divorce,. Capital and Corporal Pun-
ishmeht. Crime* against Criminals, and contains also the exquisite Prose-poems,
^'Love," "Life," "Visions of War," etc. Every conceivable subject is dealt
with in the spirit of intellectual hospitality, presented with ininlitable skill and
charm. ^ Strongly endprsed by Mark Twain, Max O'Rell, Andrew Carnegie,
Qovernor Odell, Thomas B. Reed, and many others.
¦These books are worthy of a place both in your library and in your brain.
Fall InformHtion and deseripUve cireutar will be Kent FBEE 01' CHARGE apon applleatlou to
The DRESDEN PUBLISHING CO., 5 & 7 East t5th St., N. Y.

PHALANSTERIE
The word was first iised by Fourier, and
means literally "the home of friends." The
ROYCROFT PHALANSTERIE, with its new
addition, just completed, consists of a kitchen,
scientific, and modern in all of its appointments;
a dining-room that seats a hundred people;
thirty-eight sleeping rooms; reception rooms,
etc., etc. That is to say it is an INN, managed
somewhat like a Swiss Monastery, simple, yet
complete in all of its appointments — where the
traveler is made welcome. There are always a
few visitors with us. Some remain simply for a
meal, others stay a day, or a week, or a month.
A few avail themselves of the services of our
Musical Director, the Physical Instructor, or
take lessons in drawing and painting. CThe
prices: Meals, such as they are, say twenty-
five cents; lodging, fifty cents. If parties of a
dozen or more want accoinmodations, it is well
to telegraph ahead to THE BURSAR of
THE ROYCROFTERS
EAST AURORA, NE^A^ YORK

HE BEST VALUE,
perhaps, in Roycroft Books is
in the De Luxe copies of the
LITTLE JOURNEYS. These
Volumes are One Dollar each,
and they are the only One Dol
lar books the Roycrofters have ever made or
will ever make. On hand-made paper, bound
in limp chamois, silk lined, silk marker, hand-
illumined. We have a few on hand of each of
the following subjects:
William Morris Robert Bums
Robert Browning John Milton
Tennyson Samuel Johnson
Wagner Mozart
Paganini Bach
Chopin Mendelssohn
Raphael Thorwaldsen
Leonardo Gainsborough
Botticelli Velasquez
Just One Dollar each — there is no profit in these books
for us, but they keep our boys and girls busy, and
show the world what we can do.
The Roycrofters, East Aurora

Macaulay

Southey

Bjrron

Coleridge

Addison

Disraeli

Liszt

Verdi

Beethoven

Schumann

Handel

Brahms

Corot

Cellini

Correggio

Abbey

Gian Bellini

Whistler

"S U M IVl E R FOOD"
Has Otlier Advantages.

Many people have tried the food Grape-Nuts simply
with the idea of avoiding the trouble of cooking food
in the hot months.
All of these have found something besides the ready-
cooked food^dea, for Grape-Nuts is a scientific food
that tones up and restores a sick stomach as well as
repairs the waste tissue in brain and nerve centres.
''For two years I had been a sufferer from catarrh of
the stomach due to improper food, and to relieve this
condition I had tried nearly every prepared food on
the market without any success until 6 months ago
my Mviie purchased a box of Grape-Nuts, thinking it
would be a desirable cereal for the summer months.
Q<'We soon made a discovery, we were enchanted
with the delightful flavor of the food and to my sur
prise I began to get well. My breakfast now consists
of a little fruit; 4 teaspoonfuls of Grape-Nuts; a cup
of Postum, which I prefer to coffee ; graham bread or
toast and two boiled eggs. I never suffer the least dis
tress after eating this and my stomach is perfect and
general health fine. Grape-Nuts is a wonderful prep
aration. It was only a little time after starting on it
that wife and I both felt younger, more vigorous, and
in all ways stronger. This has been our experience.,
Q " P. S. The addition of a little salt in place of sugai"
seems to me to improve the food." Name given by^
Postum Co., Battle Cre'ek, Mich,
Send for particulars by mail of extension of time on
the $7,500.00 cooks' contest for 735 money prizes.

u

Robert Ingersoll

Little tSe
pouttneysIto tbe Homes of
EMINENT
lORATORS SttsersoU
lUititten byElbeitt I
iHubbattd & done
into a Book by tbe
Roycpofteps at tbe
$bop, tobicb is in
East /luitotta, Deto
Yoitk, fl. D. 1908

T OVE is the only bow on life's dark cloud. It is the morning and
^^ the evening star. It shines upon the babe, and sheds its radiance
on the quiet tomb. It is the Mother of Art, inspirer of poet, patriot
and philosopher. It is the air and light to tired souls — builder of every
home, kindler of every fire on every hearth. It was the first to dream
of immortality. It fills the world with melody — for music is the voice
of love. Love is the magician, the enchanter that changes worthless
things to joy, and makes right royal kings and queens of common
clay. It is the perfume of that wondrous flower, the heart, and with
out that sacred passion, that divine swoon, we are less than beasts ;
but with it, earth is heaven and we are gods.

ROBERT INGERSOLL

23

|K was three years old, v^^as Robert Inger
soll. There was a baby boy one year
old. Ebon by name, then there was
I John, five years, and two elder sisters.
Q Little Robert wore a red linsey-
woolsey dress, and was a restless, active
youngster with a big head, a round face
and a pug nose. No one ever asked,
" Vi^hat is it ? " — there was " boy " writ
ten large in every baby action, and ev
ery feature from chubby bare feet to the
two crowns of his close-cropped tOAv
head. It was a morning in January, and the
snow lay smooth and white over all
those York State hills. The winter sun
sent long gleams of light through the
frost covered panes upon which the
children were trying to draw pictures.
Visitors began to arrive — visitors in stiff
Sunday clothes, altho it was n't Sunday.
There were aunts, and uncles, and cous
ins, and then just neighbors. They filled
the little house full. Some of the men
went out and split •wood and brought in
big armfuls and piled it in the corner.
They moved on tiptoe and talked in
' -.ispers. And now and then they would
alk softly into the little parlor by twos

C»^

24  ROBERT INGERSOLL
and threes and close the door after them. Q This par
lor was always a forbidden place to the children — on
Sunday afternoons only were they allov^ed to go in
there, or on prayer meeting night.
In this parlor were six hair-cloth chairs and a sofa to
match. In the center was a little marble-top table, and
on it were two red books and a blue one. On the man
tel was a plaster-of-Paris cat at one end and a bunch
of crystallized flowers at the other. There was a
"what-not" in the corner covered with little shells
and filled with strange and vsronderful things. There
was a " store" carpet, bright red. It was a very beau
tiful room, and to look into it was a great privilege.
Q Little Robert had tried several times to enter the
parlor this cold winter morning, but each time he had
been thrust back. Finally he clung to the leg of a tall
man, and was safely inside. It was very cold — one of
the windows was open ! He looked about with won
dering baby eyes to see what the people wanted to go
in there for !
On two of the hair-cloth chairs rested a cofiin. The
baby hands clutched the side — he drew himself up on
tiptoe and looked down at the still, white face — the
face of his mother. Her hands were crossed just so,
and in her fingers was a spray of flow^ers — he recog
nized them as the flo^vers she had al\vays ^vorn on her
Sunday bonnet — a rusty black bonnet — not real flow
ers, just " made " flowers.
But why was she so quiet ? He had never seen her

ROBERT INGERSOLL  25
hands that way before — those hands were always
busy: knitting, sewing, cooking, weaving, scrubbing,
washing !
"Mamma! Mamma!" called the boy.
"Hush, little boy, hush! Your Mamma is dead," said
the tall man, and he lifted the boy in his arms and
carried him from the room.
Out in the kitchen, in a crib in the corner, lay the
" Other Baby," and thither little Robert made his way.
He patted the sleeping baby brother, and called aloud
in lisping words, " Wake up. Baby, your Mamma is
dead!"And the baby in the crib knew quite as much about it
as the toddler in the linsey-woolsey dress, and the
toddler knew as much about death as we do to-day.
This wee youngster kept thinking how good it was
that Mamma could have such a nice rest — the first
rest she had ever known — and just lie there in the
beautiful room and hold her flowers !

Fifty years passes. These children, grown to man
hood, are again together. One, his work done, is at
rest. Standing by his bier, the other voices these
deathless words:
" Life is a narrow vale between the cold and barren
peaks of two eternities. We strive in vain to look be
yond the heights. W^e call aloud, and the only answer
is the echo of our wailing cry. From the voiceless lips
of the unreplying dead there comes no word ; but in

26  ROBERT INGERSOLL
the night of death, hope sees a star and listening love
can hear the rustle of a wing.
" He who sleeps here, when dying, mistaking the ap
proach of death for the return of health, whispered
with his latest breath, ' I am better now^.' Let us be
lieve, in spite of doubts and dogmas, of fears and tears,
that these dear words are true of all the countless
dead."

THE mother of Ingersoll was a Livingston — a
Livingston of right royal lineage, tracing to
that famous family of Revolutionary fame. To
a great degree she gave up family and social position
to become the wife of Reverend John Ingersoll of Ver
mont, a theolog from the Academy at Bennington.
He was young and full of zeal — he v^as called " a pow
erful preacher." That he was a man of much strength
of intellect, there is ample proof. He did his duty, said
his say, called sinners to repentance and told what
would be their fate if they did not accept salvation.
His desire was to do good, and therefore he warned
men against the wrath to come. He was an educated
man, and all of his beliefs and most of his ideas were
gathered and gleaned from his college professors and
Jonathan Edwards.
He loved his beautiful wife and she loved him. She
loved him just as all good women love, with a com
plete abandon — with heart, mind and strength. He at

ROBERT INGERSOLL  27
first had periods of such abandon, too, but his con
science soon made him recoil from an affection of
which God might be jealous. He believed that a man
should forsake father, mother, w^ife and child in order
to follow duty — and duty to him was the thing we
did n't want to do. That which was pleasant was not
wholly good. And so he strove to thrust from him all
earthly affections, and to love God alone. Not only
this, but he strove to make others love God. He
warned his family against the pride and pomp of the
world, and the family income being something under
four hundred dollars, they observed his edict.
Life was a ^warfare — the devil constantly lay in wait —
we must resist. This man hated evil — he hated evil
more than he loved the good. His wife loved the good
more than she hated evil, and he chided her — in love.
She sought to explain her position. He was amazed at
her temerity — what right had a woman to think — what
right had any one to think !
He prayed for her.
And soon she grew to keep her thoughts to herself.
Sometimes she would write them out, and then destroy
them before any eyes but her own could read. Once
she went to a neighbor's and saw Paine's "Age of
Reason." She peeped into its pages by stealth, and
then put it quickly away. The next day she went back
and read some more, and among other things she read
was this, "To live a life of love and usefulness — to
benefit others — must bring its due reward, regardless

28  ROBERT INGERSOLL
of belief." QShe thought about it more and more and
wondered really if God could and would damn a per
son who just went ahead and did the best he could.
She wanted to ask her husband about it — to talk it
over with him in the evening — but she dare not. She
knew too well what his answer would be — for her even
to think such thoughts was a sin. And so she just de
cided she would keep her thoughts to herself, and be
a dutiful wife, and help her husband in his pastoral
v^ork as a minister's w^ife should.
But her proud spirit began to droop, she ceased to
sing at her w^ork, her face grew wan, yellowr and sad.
Yet still she vs^orked — there were no servants to dis
tress her — and when her own work was done she
went out among the neighbors and helped them — she
cared for the sick, the infirm, she dressed the new
born babe, and closed the eyes of the dying.
That this woman had a thirst for liberty, and the
larger life, is sho^vn in that she herself prepared and
presented a memorial to the President of the United
States praying that slavery be abolished. So far as I
kno^v, this -was the first petition ever prepared in
America on the subject by a woman.
This minister's family rarely remained over tw^o years
in a place. At first they were received with loving
arms, and there were donation parties where cider
was spilled on the floors, doughnuts ground into the
carpets, and several hair-cloth chairs hopelessly
wrecked. But the larder was filled and there was

ROBERT INGERSOLL  2g
much good cheer. Q I believe I said that the Rev. John
Ingersoll was a powerful preacher — he was so power
ful he quickly made enemies. He told men of their
weaknesses in phrase so pointed that necks ¦would be
craned to see how certain delinquents took their medi
cine. Then some would get up and tramp out during
the sermon in high dudgeon. These disaffected ones
would influence others — contributions gre^v less, do
nations ceased, and just as a matter of bread and but
ter a new " call " would be angled for, and the parson's
family ^vould pack up — helped by the faction that loved
them, and the one that did n't. Good-byes were said,
blessings given — or the reverse — and the jokers would
say, "A change of pastors makes fat calves."
At one time the Rev. John Ingersoll tried to start an
independent church in New York City. For a year he
preached every Sunday at the old Lyceum Theatre,
and here it was on the stage of the theatre, in 1834,
that Robert G. Ingersoll was baptized.
But the New York venture failed — starved out, was
the verdict, and a country parish extending a call, it
was gladly accepted.
Such a life, to such a woman, was particularly wear
ing. But Mrs. Ingersoll kept right at her work, always
doing for others, until there came a day when kind
neighbors came in and cared for her, looked after her
household, attending this stricken mother — tired out
and old at thirty-one, unaware that she had blessed
the world by giving to it a man-child who was to make

30  ROBERT INGERSOLL
an epoch. QThe watchers one night straightened the
stiffening limbs, clothed the body in the gown that had
been her wedding dress, and folded the calloused fin
gers over the spray of flowers. Q " Hush, little boy —
your Mamma is dead ! " said the tall man, as he lifted
the child and carried him from the room.

FROM the sleepy little village of Dresden, Yates
County, New York, seven miles from Penn Yan,
where Robert Ingersoll was born, to his niche
in the Temple of Fame, was a zigzag journey. But
that is Nature's plan — we make head by tacking. And
as the years go by, more and more, we see the line of
IngersoU's life stretching itself straight. Every change
to him meant progress. Success is a question of temper
ament — it is all a matter of the red corpuscle. Ingersoll
was a success — happy, exuberant, joying in life, rev
eling in existence, he marched to the front in every
frayjSTjSr As a boy he was so full of life that ^ very often did the
wrong thing. And I have no doubf but that wherever
he went he helped hold good the precedents that
preachers' boys are not especially angelic. For in
stance, we have it on good authority that Bob, aged
fourteen, once climbed into the belfry of a church and
removed the clapper, so that the sexton thought the
bell was bewitched. At another time he placed a
washtub over the top of a chimney where a prayer

ROBERT INGERSOLL  31
meeting was in progress, and the smoke broke up the
meeting and gave the good people a foretaste of the
place they believed in. In these stories, told to prove
his depravity. Bob v^as always climbing somewhere —
belfries, steeples, housetops, trees, verandas, barn-
roofs, bridges. But I have noticed that youngsters
given to the climbing habit usually do something when
they grow up.
For these climbing pranks Robert and Ebon were
duly reproved with a stout strap that hung behind the
kitchen door. V^hether the parsonage was in New
York, Pennsylvania, Ohio, or Illinois — audit dodged all
over these states — the strap always traveled, too. It
never got lost. It need not be said that the Rev.
John Ingersoll was cruel or abusive, not at all, — he
just believed with Solomon that to spare the rod was
to spoil the child. He loved his children, and if a boy
could be saved by so simple a means as "strap oil,"
he was not the man to shirk his duty. He was neither
better nor worse than the average preacher of his day.
No doubt, too, the poverty and constant misunder
standings with congregations led to much irritability —
it is hard to be amiable on half rations.
"When a step-mother finally appeared upon the scene,
there was more trouble for the children. She was a
worthy woman and meant to be kind, but her heart
was n't big enough to love boys who carried live mice
in their pockets and turned turtles loose in the pantry.
Q So we find Bob and his brother bundled off to his

32  ROBERT INGERSOLL
Grandfather Livingston's in St. Lawrence County,
Ne^v York. Here Bob got his first real educational
advantages. The old man seems to have been a sort
of "Foxy Grandpa": he played, romped, read and
studied with the boys and possibly neutralized some
of the discipline they had received.
Of his childhood days Robert Ingersoll very rarely
spoke. There was too much bitterness and disappoint
ment in it all, but it is curious to note that when he
did speak of his boyhood, it was always something
that happened at " Grandfather Livingston's." Finally
the old Grandpa got to thinking so much of the boys
that he wanted to legally adopt them, and then we
find their father taking alarm and bringing them back
to the parsonage, which was then at Elyria, Ohio.
The boys worked at odd jobs, on farms in summer,
clerking in country stores, driving stage — and be it said
to the credit of their father, he allowed them to keep
the money they made. Education comes through doing
things, making things, going without things, taking
care of yourself, talking about things, and when Rob
ert was seventeen he had education enough to teach a
" Deestrick School" in Illinois.
To teach is a good way to get an education. If you
want to know all about a subject, •write a book on it,
a wise man has said. If you wish to know all about
things, start in and teach them to others.
Bob was eighteen — big and strong, with a good nature
and an enthusiasm that had no limit. There were spell-

ROBERT INGERSOLL  33
ing-beesin his school, and a debating society, that had
impromptu rehearsals every night at the grocery.
Country people are prone to " argufying" — the greater
and more weighty the question the more ready are
the bucolic Solons to engage with it. And it is all
education to the youth who listens and takes part —
who has the receptive mind.
This love of argument and contention among country
people finds vent in lawsuits. Pigs break into a man's
garden and root up the potatoes, and straight^vay the
owner of the potatoes "has the law" on the owner of
the pigs. This strife is urged on by kind neighbors who
take sides, and by the "setters" at the store, who
fire the litigants on to unseemliness. Local attorneys
are engaged and the trial takes place at the railroad
station, or in the school house on Saturday. Everybody
has opinions, and over-rules the "jedge" next day, or
not, as the case may be.
This petty strife may seem absurd to us, but it is all a
part of the Spirit of the Hive, as Maeterlinck would say..
It is better than dead level dumbness — better than the
subjection of the peasantry of Europe. These pioneers
settle their own disputes. It makes them think, and a
few at least are getting an education. This is the cradle
in which statesmen are rocked. Q And so it happened
that no one was surprised when in the year 1853, there
was a sign tacked up over a grocery in Shawneetown,
Illinois, and the sign read thus: "R.G. &E. C. Inger
soll, Attorneys and Counselors at Law."

34  ROBERT INGERSOLL
SHA^VNEETOWN, Illinois, was once the pride
and pet of Egypt. It was larger than Chicago,
and doubtless it would have become the capitol
of the state had it been called Shawnee City. But the
name was against it, and dry rot set in. And so
to-day Shawneetown has the same number of inhabit
ants that it had in 1855, and in Shawneetown are
various citizens who boast that the place has held its
owns^j^ Robert Ingersoll had won a case for a certain steam
boat captain, and in gratitude the counsel had been
invited by his client to go on an excursion to Peoria,
the head of navigation on the Illinois River. The lawyer
took the trip, and duly reached Peoria after many
hairbreadth 'scapes on the imminently deadly sand-bar.
But a week must be spent at Peoria while the boat was
reloading for her return trip.
There was a railroad war on in Peoria. The town had
one railroad, which some citizens said was enough for
any place; others wanted the new railroad.
¦Whether the new company should be granted certain
terminal facilities — that was the question. The route
w^as surveyed, but the company was forbidden to lay
its tracks until the people said "Aye."
So there the matter rested when Robert Ingersoll was
waiting for the stern-wheeler to reload. The captain
of the craft had meanwhile circulated reports about
the eloquence and legal ability of his star passenger.
These reports coming to the ears of the manager of

ROBERT INGERSOLL  35
the new railroad, he sought out the visiting lawyer
and advised with him.
Railroad Law is a new thing, not quite so nevr as the
Law of the Bicycle, or the Statutes concerning Auto-
mobiling, but older still than the Legal Precedents of
the Aeromotor. Railroad Law is an evolution, and the
Railroad Lawyer is a by-product : what Mr. Mantinelli
w^ould call a demnition product.
It was a railroad that gave Robert Ingersoll his first
fee in Peoria. The man was only twenty-three, but
semi-pioneer life makes men early, and Robert Inger
soll stood first in war and first in peace among the
legal lights of Shawneetown. His size made amends
for his cherubic face, and the insignificant nose was
more than balanced by the forceful jaw. The young
man was a veritable Greek in form, and his bubbling
wit and ready speech on any theme made him a draw
ing card at the political barbecue.
" Bob " at this time did n't know much about railroads
— there was no railroad in Shawneetown — but he was
an expert on barbecues. A barbecue is a gathering
where a whole ox is roasted and where there is much
hard cider and effervescent eloquence. Bob would
speak to the people about the advantages of the new
railroad ; and the opposition could answer if they
wished. Pioneers are always ready for a picnic— they
delight in speeches — they dote on argument and
wordy warfare. The barbecue was to be across the
river on Saturday afternoon.

36  ROBERT INGERSOLL
The whole city quit business to go to the barbecue
and hear the speeches.
Bob made the first address. He spoke for two hours
about everything and anything — he told stories, and
dealt in love, life, death, politics and farming — all but
railroading. The crowd was delighted — cheers filled
the air if if
^Vhen the opposition got up to speak and brought for-
vtrard its profound reasons and heavy logic, most
everybody adjourned to the tables to eat and drink.
Q Finally there came rumors that something was go
ing on across the river. The opposition grew^ nervous
and started to go home, but in some mysterious way
the two ferry boats were tied up on the farther bank,
and Tvere deaf and blind to signals.
It was well after dark before the people reached home,
and when they got up the next morning they found the
new railroad had a full mile of track down and engines
•were puffing at their doors.
Bob made another speech in the public square, and
cautioned everybody to be law-abiding. The second
railroad had arrived — it was a good thing — it meant
•wealth, prosperity and happiness for everybody. And
even if it did n't, it was here and could not be removed
excepting by legal means. And we must all be law-
abiding citizens — let the matter be determined by the
courts. Then there were a few funny stories, and
cheers were given for the speaker.

ROBERT INGERSOLL  37
On the next trip of the little stern-wheeler the young
lawyer and his brother arrived. They had n't much
baggage, but they carried a tin sign that they proceeded
to tack up over a store on Adams Street. It read thus : ^
"R. G. & E. C. Ingersoll, Attorneys and Counselors at
Law." And there the sign was to remain for twenty-
five years.

AT Peoria, the Ingersoll Brothers did not have
to wait long for clients. Ebon was the coun
selor, Robert the pleader, and some still have
it that Ebon was the stronger, just as we hear that
Ezekiel Webster was a more capable man than Dan
iel — which was probably the fact.
The IngersoUs had not been long at Peoria before
Robert had a case at Groveland, a town only a few
miles away, and a place which, like Shawneetown,
has held its own.
The issue was the same old classic — hogs had rooted
up the man's garden, and then the hogs had been im
pounded. This time there was tragedy, for before the
hogs were released the owner was killed.
The people for miles had come to town to hear the
eloquent young lawyer from Peoria. The taverns were
crowded, and not having engaged a room, the attorney
for the defense was put to straits to find a place in
which to sleep. In this extremity 'Squire Parker, the
first citizen of the town, invited young Ingersoll to

38  ROBERT INGERSOLL
his house. Q Parker ^vas a character in that neck of
the woods — he was an "infidel," and a terror to all
the clergy 'round about. And strange enough — or not
— his wife believed exactly as he did, and so did their
daughter Eva, a beautiful girl of nineteen. But 'Squire
Parker got into no argument with his guest — their be
lief was the same. Probably we would now call the
Parkers simply radical Unitarians. Their kinsman,
Theodore Parker, expressed their faith, and they had
no more use for a "personal devil" than he had. The
courage of the young woman in stating her religious
views had almost made her an outcast in the village,
and here she w^as saying the same things in Groveland
that Robert was saying in Peoria. She was the first
woman he ever knew who had ideas.
It was one o'clock before he went to bed that night —
his head was in a whirl. It was a wonder he did n't
lose his case the next day, but he did n't.
He cleared his client and won a bride.
In a few months Robert Ingersoll and Eva Parker
were married.
Never were man and woman more perfectly mated
than this couple. And hovr much the world owes to
her sustaining love and unfaltering faith, we cannot
compute ; but my opinion is that if it had not been for
Eva Parker — twice a daughter of the Revolution,
whose ancestors fought side by side with the Living
stons — we should never have heard of Robert Inger
soll as the maker of an epoch. It is love that makes

ROBERT INGERSOLL  39
the world go 'round — and it is love that makes the
orator and fearless thinker, no less than poet, painter
and musician.
No man liveth unto himself alone: we demand the
approval and approbation of another : we write and
speak for some One ; and our thought coming back
from this One approved, gives courage and that bold
determination which carries conviction home. Before
the world believes in us we must believe in ourselves,
and before we fully believe in ourselves this some
One must believe in us. Eva Parker believed in Robert
Ingersoll, and it was her love and faith that made him
believe in himself and caused him to fling reasons into
the face of hypocrisy and shower with sarcasm and
ridicule the savage and senseless superstitions that
paraded themselves as divine.
W^endell Phillips believed in himself because Ann
never doubted him. W^ithout Ann he would not have
had the courage to face that twenty years' course oi
mobs. If it had ever occurred to him that the mob was
right he would have gone down in darkness and de
feat, but with Ann such a suspicion was not possible.
He pitted Ann's faith against the prejudice of centuries
— two with God are a majority.
It was Eva's faith that sustained Robert. In those
first years of lecturing she always accompanied him,
and at his lectures sat on the stage in the wings and
gloried in his success. He did not need her to protect
him from the mob, but he needed her to protect him

40  ROBERT INGERSOLL
from himself. It is only perfect love that casteth out
fear.THERE is a little book called, "Ingersoll as He
Is," which is being circulated by some earnest
advocates of truth.
The volume is a vindication, a refutation and an apol
ogy. It takes up a goodly list of zealous calumniators
and cheerful prevaricators and tacks their pelts on
the barn-door of obliquity.
That Ingersoll won the distinction of being more
grossly misrepresented than any man of his time,
there is no doubt. This was to his advantage — he was
advertised by his rabid enemies no less than by his
loving friends. But his good friends who are putting
out this vindication should cultivate faith, and knoTV
that there is a God, or Something, who looks after the
lies and the liars — we need n't.
A big man should never be cheapened by a defense.
Life is its own excuse for being, and every life is its
own apology. Silence is better than wordy refutation.
People who want to believe the falsehoods told of this
man, or any other, will continue to believe them until
the crack o' doom.
Most accusations contain a certain basis of truth, but
they may be no less libels on that account. One zeal
ous advocate, intent on loving his supposed enemy,
printed a thrilling story about IngersoU's being taken

ROBERT INGERSOLL  41
prisoner during the war, while taking refuge in a pig
pen. To this some of Bob's friends interposed a fierce
rejoinder declaring that Bob stood like Falstaff at
Gads Hill and fought the rogues in buckram to a
standstill if if
Heaven forfend me from my friends— I can withstand
mine enemies alone !
I am quite ready to believe that Bob, being attacked
by an overwhelming force, suddenly bethought him
of an engagement, and made a swift run for safety.
The impeccable man who has never done a cowardly
thing, nor a mean thing, is no kinsman of mine ! The
saintly hero who has not had his heels run away with
his head, and sought safety in a friendly pig-pen — aye !
and filled his belly with the husks that the swine did
eat — has dropped something out of his life that he
will have to go back for and pick up in another incar
nation. W^e love men for their limitations and weak
nesses, no less than their virtues. A fault may bring
a man very close to us. Have we, too, not sought
safety in pig-pens ! The people who taunt other
people with having taken temporary refuge in a pig
pen are usually those who live in pig-pens the whole
year 'round if if
The one time in the life of Savonarola when he comes
nearest to us is when his tortured flesh wrenched from
his spirit a recantation. And who can forget that cry
of Calvary, "My God, my God! W^hy hast thou for
saken me!" That call for help coming to us across

42  ROBERT INGERSOLL
twenty centuries, makes the man, indeed, our Elder
Brother if if
And let it here be stated that even Bob's bitterest foe
never declared that the man was a coward by nature,
nor that the business of his life was hiding in pig
pens. The incident named was exceptional and there
fore noteworthy; let us admit it, at least not worry
ourselves into a passion denying it. Let us also stipu
late the truth that Bob could never quite overcome
the temptation to take an unfair advantage of his op
ponent in an argument. He laid the fools by the heels
and suddenly, 'gainst all the rules of either Robertson
or Queensbury.
To go after the prevaricators, and track them to their
holes is to make much of little, and lift the liars into
the realm of equals. This story of the pig-pen I never
heard of until IngersoU's friends denied it in a book.
QJust one instance to show how trifles light as air
are to the zealous confirmation strong as holy writ:
In April, 1894, Ingersoll lectured at Utica, New York.
The following Sunday a local clergyman denounced the
lecturer as a sensualist, a gourmand — one totally in
different to decency and the feelings and rights of
others. Then the preacher said, "At breakfast in this
city last Thursday, Ingersoll ordered everything on
the bill of fare, and then insulted and roundly abused
the waiter-girl because she did not bring things that
were not in the hotel."
I happened to be present at that meal. It was an

ROBERT INGERSOLL  43
"early train breakfast," and the bill of fare for the
day had not been printed. The girl came in, and
standing at the Colonel's elbov^, in genuine Tvaiter-
girl style, mumbled this : " Ham and eggs, mutton
chops, beefsteak, breakfast bacon, codfish balls and
buckwheat cakes."
And Bob solemnly said: "Ham and eggs, mutton
chops, beefsteak, breakfast bacon, codfish balls and
buckwheat cakes."
In amazement the girl gasped, "^Vhat?" And then
Bob went over it backward : " Buckwheat cakes, cod
fish balls, breakfast bacon, beefsteak, mutton chops,
and ham and eggs."
This memory test raised a laugh that sent a shout of
mirth all through the room, in which even the girl
joined if if
" Have n't you anything else, my dear," asked the
great man in a sort of disappointed way.
"I think we have tripe and pig's feet," said the girl.
Q" Bring a bushel," said Bob, " and say, tell the cook
I 'd like a dish of peacock tongues on the side." The
infinite good nature of it all caused another laugh
from everybody.
The girl brought everything ordered excepting the
peacock tongues, and this order supplied the lecturer
and his party of four. The waitress found a dollar bill
under Bob's plate, and the cook who stood in the
kitchen door and waved a big spoon, and called,
"Good-bye, Bob!" got another dollar for himself.

44  ROBERT INGERSOLL
Q Ingersoll carried mirth, and joy, and good cheer, and
radiated a feeling of plentitude wherever he went. He
was a royal liver and a royal spender. " If I had but a
dollar," he used to say, "I 'd spend it as though it
were a dry leaf, and I Mvere the owner of an un
bounded forest." He maintained a pension list of
thirty persons or more for a decade, spent upwards
of forty thousand dollars a year, and while the for
tune he left for his ^vife and children was not large,
as men count things on 'Change, yet it is ample for
their ease and comfort.
His family always called him "Robert" with an al
most idolatrous flavor of tender love in the word. But
to the world who hated him and the world w^ho loved
him, he was just plain'" Bob." To trainmen, hack
drivers, and the great singers, poets and players, he
was "Bob." "Dignity is the mask behind which we
hide our ignorance." W^hen half a world calls a man
by a nickname, it is a patent to nobility — small men
are never so honored.
"Good-bye, Bob," called the white aproned cook as
he stood in the kitchen door and waved his big spoon.
" Good-bye, Brother, and mind you get those peacock
tongues by the time I get back," answered Bob.

ROBERT INGERSOLL  45
AS to IngersoU's mental evolution we cannot do
better than to let him tell the story himself:
QLike the most of us, I was raised among
people who knew — •who were certain. They did not
reason or investigate. They had no doubts. They
kne^v they had the truth. In their creed there ^vas no
guess — no perhaps. They had a revelation from God.
They knew the beginning of things. They knew that
God commenced to create one Monday morning and
worked until Saturday night, four thousand and four
years before Christ. They knew that in the eternity —
back of that morning, he had done nothing. They
knew that it took him six days to make the earth —
all plants, all animals, all life, and all the globes that
wheel in space. They knew exactly what he did each
day and when he rested. They knew the origin, the
cause of evil, of all crime, of all disease and death.
QThey not only knew the beginning, but they knew
the end. They knew that life had one path and one
road. They knew that the path, grass-grown and
narrow, filled with thorns and nettles, infested with
vipers, wet with tears, stained by bleeding feet, led to
heaven, and that the road, broad and smooth, bor
dered with fruits and flowers, filled with laughter and
song, and all the happiness of human love, led straight
to hell. They knew that God was doing his best to
make you take the path and that the Devil used every
art to keep you in the road.
They knew that there was a perpetual battle waged
between the great Powers of good and evil for the
possession of human souls. They knew that many
centuries ago pod had left his throne and had been
born a babe into this poor world — that he had suffered
death for the sake of man — for the sake of saving a

46  ROBERT INGERSOLL
fe\v. They also knew that the human heart wras
utterly depraved, so that man by nature was in love
with w^rong and hated God with all his might.
At the same time they knew that God created man in
his own image and was perfectly satisfied with his
work. They also knew that he had been thwarted by
the Devil — ^who •with ^viles and lies had deceived the
first of human kind. They knew that in consequence
of that, God cursed the man and woman ; the man
with toil, the woman with slavery and pain, and both
with death ; and that he cursed the earth itself with
briars and thorns, brambles and thistles. All these
blessed things they knew. They knew too all that
God had done to purify and elevate the race. They
knew all about the Flood — knew that God, with the
exception of eight, drowned all his children — the old
and young — the bowed patriarch and the dimpled
babe — the young man and the merry maiden — the
loving mother and the laughing child — because his
mercy endureth forever. They knew too, that he
drowned the beasts and birds — everything that walked
or crawled or flew — because his loving kindness is
over all his works. They knew that God, for the pur
pose of civilizing his children, had devoured some
with earthquakes, destroyed some with storms of
fire, killed some with his lightnings, millions with
famine, with pestilence, and sacrificed countless
thousands upon the fields of war. They knew that it
was necessary to believe these things and to love
God. They knew that there could be no salvation ex
cept by faith, and through the atoning blood of Jesus
Christ if if
All who doubted or denied would be lost. To live a
moral and honest life — to keep your contracts, to take
care of wife and child — to make a happy home — to be

ROBERT INGERSOLL  47
a good citizen, a patriot, a just and thoughtful man,
was simply a respectable way of going to hell.
God did not reward men for being honest, generous
and brave, but for the act of faith — without faith, all
the so-called virtues were sins and the men who
practiced these virtues, without faith, deserved to
suffer eternal pain.
All of these comforting and reasonable things were
taught by the ministers in their pulpits — by teachers
in Sunday schools and by parents at home. The chil
dren wrere victims. They w^ere assaulted in the cradle
— in their mother's arms. Then, the schoolmaster
carried on the war against their natural sense, and
all the books they read were filled with the same im
possible truths. The poor children were helpless. The
atmosphere they breathed was filled with lies — lies
that mingled with their blood.
In those days ministers depended on revivals to save
souls and reform the world.
In the winter, navigation having closed, business was
mostly suspended. There were no railways and the
only means of communication were wagons and boats.
Generally the roads were so bad that the wagons
were laid up with the boats. There were no operas,
no theatres, no amusements except parties and balls.
The parties were regarded as worldly and the balls as
wicked. For real and virtuous enjoyment the good
people depended on revivals.
The sermons were mostly about the pains and agonies
of hell, the joys and ecstacies of heaven, salvation by
faith, and the efficacy of the atonement. The little
churches, in which the services were held, were
generaUy small, badly ventilated, and exceedingly
warm. The emotional sermons, the sad singing, the
hysterical amens, the hope of heaven, the fear of hell.

48  ROBERT INGERSOLL
caused many to lose the little sense they had. They
became substantially insane. In this condition they
flocked to the "mourners bench" — asked for the
prayers of the faithful — had strange feelings, prayed
and wept and thought they had been "born again."
Then they would tell their experience — how wicked
they had been — hov^ evil had been their thoughts,
their desires, & how good they had suddenly become.
Q They used to tell the story of an old woman who, in
telling her experience, said: — "Before I was con
verted, before I gave my heart to God, I used to lie
and steal, but now, thanks to the grace and blood of
Jesus Christ, I have quit 'em both, in a great meas
ure." if if
Of course all the people were not exactly of one mind.
There were some scoffers, and now and then, some
man had sense enough to laugh at the threats of
priests and make a jest of hell. Some would tell of
unbelievers who had lived and died in peace.
W^hen I was a boy I heard them tell of an old farmer
in Vermont. He was dying. The minister was at his
bed-side — asked him if he was a Christian — if he was
prepared to die. The old man answered that he had
made no preparation, that he was not a Christian —
that he had never done anything but work. The
preacher said that he could give him no hope unless
he had faith in Christ, and that if he had no faith his
soul would certainly be lost.
The old man was not frightened. He was perfectly
calm. In a weak and broken voice he said: "Mr.
Preacher, I suppose you noticed my farm. My wife
and I came here more than fifty years ago. W^e were
just married. It was a forest then and the land was
covered with stones. I cut down the trees, burned the
logs, picked up the stones and laid the walls. My wife

ROBERT INGERSOLL

49

spun and wove and worked every moment. We raised
and educated our children — denied ourselves. During
all these years my wife never had a good dress, or a
decent bonnet. I never had a good suit of clothes. W^e
lived on the plainest food. Our hands, our bodies, are
deformed by toil. W^e never had a vacation. We loved
each other and the children. That is the only luxury
we ever had. Now, I am about to die and you ask me
if I am prepared. Mr. Preacher, I have no fear of the
future, no terror of any other world. There may be
such a place as hell — but if there is, you never can
make me believe that it 's any worse than old Ver
mont" if if
So they told of a man who compared himself with his
dog. "My dog," he said, "just barks and plays — has
all he wants to eat. He never works — has no trouble
about business. In a little while he dies, and that is
all. I work with all my strength. I have no time to
play. I have trouble every day. In a little while I will
die, and then I go to hell. I wish that I had been a
dog" if if
^A^ell, while the cold weather lasted, while the snows
fell, the revival went on, but when the winter was
over, when the steamboat's whistle was heard, when
business started again, most of the converts "back
slid" and fell again into their old ways. But the next
winter they were on hand, ready to be " born again."
They formed a kind of stock company, playing the
same parts every winter and backsliding every spring.
QThe ministers, who preached at these revivals,
were in earnest. They -were zealous and sincere. They
v^ere not philosophers. To them science \vas the name
of a vague dread — a dangerous enemy. They did not
know much, but they believed a great deal. To them
hell was a burning reality — they could see the smoke

50  ROBERT INGERSOLL
and flames. The Devil was no myth. He was an actual
person, a rival of God, an enemy of mankind. They
thought that the important business of this life was
to save your soul — that all should resist and scorn the
pleasures of sense, and keep their eyes steadily fixed
on the golden gate of the New Jerusalem. They were
••unbalanced, emotional, hysterical, bigoted, hateful,
loving, and insane. They really believed the Bible to
be the actual word of God — a book without mistake
or contradiction. They called its cruelties, justice — its
absurdities, mysteries — its miracles, facts, and the
I idiotic passages were regarded as profoundly spiritual.
They dwelt on the pangs, the regrets, the infinite
agonies of the lost, and showed how easily they could
be avoided, and how^ cheaply heaven could be ob
tained. They told their hearers to believe, to have
faith, to give their hearts to God, their sins to Christ,
vrho would bear their burdens and make their souls
as white as snow.
All this the ministers really believed. They v/ere ab
solutely certain. In their minds the Devil had tried in
vain to sow the seeds of doubt.
I heard hundreds of these evangelical sermons — heard
hundreds of the most fearful and vivid descriptions of
the tortures inflicted in hell, of the horrible state of
the lost. I supposed that what I heard was true and
yet I did not believe it. I said: "It is," and then I
thought : " It cannot be."
From my childhood I had heard read, and read the
Bible. Morning and evening the sacred volumie was
opened and prayers v^ere said. The Bible ^vas my
first history, the Jews were the first people, and the
events narrated by Moses and the other inspired
writers, and those predicted by prophets were the all
important things. In other books were found the

ROBERT INGERSOLL  51
thoughts and dreams of men, but in the Bible were
the sacred truths of God.
Yet in spite of my surroundings, of my education, I
had no love for God. He was so saving of mercy, so
extravagant in murder, so anxious to kill, so ready to
assassinate, that I hated him with all my heart. At
his command, babes were butchered, women violated,
and the vsrhite hair of trembling age stained with blood.
This God visited the people with pestilence — filled the
houses and covered the streets with the dying and the
dead — saw babes starving on the empty breasts of
pallid mothers, heard the sobs, saw the tears, the
sunken cheeks, the sightless eyes, the new-made
graves, and remained as pitiless as the pestilence.
QThis God withheld the rain — caused the famine —
sa^w the fierce eyes of hunger — the wasted forms, the
white lips, saw mothers eating babes, and remained
ferocious as famine.
It seems to me impossible for a civilized man to love
or worship, or respect the God of the Old Testament.
A really civilized man, a really civilized woman, must
hold such a God in abhorrence and contempt.
But in the old days the good people justified Jehovah
in his treatment of the heathen. The wretches who
were murdered ^vere idolators and therefore unfit to
live if if
According to the Bible, God had never revealed him
self to these people and he knew that without a reve
lation they could not know that he was the true God.
Whose fault was it then that they were heathen ?
The Christians said that God had the right to destroy
them because he created them. W^hat did he create
them for? He knew when he made them that they
would be food for the sword. He knew that he would
have the pleasure of seeing them murdered.

52  ROBERT INGERSOLL
As a last answer, as a final excuse, the worshipers of
Jehovah said that all these horrible things happened
under the "old dispensation" of unyielding law, and
absolute justice, but that now under the "new dis
pensation," all had been changed — the swoni of justice
had been sheathed and love enthroned. In the Old
Testament, they said, God is the judge — but in the
New, Christ is the merciful. As a matter of fact, the
New Testament is infinitely worse than the Old. In
the Old there is no threat of eternal pain. Jehovah
had no eternal prison — no everlasting fire. His hatred
ended at the grave. His revenge •was satisfied when
his enemy was dead.
In the Nevir Testament, death is not the end, but the
beginning of punishment that has no end. In the New
Testament the malice of God is infinite and the hunger
of his revenge eternal.
The orthodox God, when clothed in human flesh, told
his disciples not to resist evil, to love their enemies,
and when smitten on one cheek to turn the other, and
yet we are told that this same God, with the same
loving lips, uttered these heartless, these fiendish
words : " Depart ye cursed into everlasting fire, pre
pared for the Devil and his angels."
These are the words of " eternal love."
No human being has imagination enough to conceive
of this infinite horror.
All that the human race has suffered in war and want,
in pestilence and famine, in fire and flood, — all the
pangs and pains of every disease and every death —
all this is as nothing compared with the agonies to be
endured by one lost soul.
This is the consolation of the Christian religion. This
is the justice of God — the mercy of Christ.
This frightful dogma, this infinite lie, made me the

ROBERT INGERSOLL  53
implacable enemy of Christianity. The truth is that
this belief in eternal pain has been the real perse
cutor. It founded the Inquisition, forged the chains,
and furnished the fagots. It has darkened the lives of
many millions. It made the cradle as terrible as the
coffin. It enslaved nations and shed the blood of
countless thousands. It sacrificed the wisest, the bra
vest and the best. It subverted the idea of justice, drove
mercy from the heart, changed men to fiends and
banished reason from the brain.
Like a venomous serpent it crawls and coils and
hisses in every orthodox creed.
It makes man an eternal victim and God an eternal
fiend. It is the one infinite horror^ Every church in
which it is taught is a public curse. Every preacher
who teaches it is an enemy of mankind. Below this
Christian dogma, savagery cannot go. It is the infinite
of malice, hatred, and revenge.
Nothing could add to the horror of hell, except the
presence of its creator, God.
W^hile I have life, as long as I draw breath, I shall
deny with all my strength, and hate with every drop
of my blood, this infinite lie.
Nothing gives me greater joy than to know that this
belief in eternal pain is growing weaker every day —
that thousands of ministers are ashamed of it. It gives
me joy to know that Christians are becoming merci
ful, so merciful that the fires of hell are burning low-
flickering, choked with ashes, destined in a few years
to die out forever.
For centuries Christendom was a mad-house. Popes,
cardinals, bishops, priests, monks and heretics were
all insane if if
Only a few — four or five in a century, were sound in
heart and brain. Only a few, in spite of the roar and

54  ROBERT INGERSOLL
din, in spite of the savage cries, heard reason's voice.
Only a few in the wild rage of ignorance, fear and
zeal preserved the perfect calm that wisdom gives.
¦ GfWe have advanced. In a few years the Christians
' will become humane and sensible enough to deny the
dogma that fills the endless years with pain.

THE world is getting better. W^e are gradually
growing honest, and men everywhere, even in
the pulpit, are acknowledging they do not know
all about things. There •was little hope for the race so
long as an individual was disgraced if he did not pre
tend to believe a thing at which his reason revolted..
We are simplifying life — simplifying truth. The man*^
•who serves his fellow men best is he who simplifies.
The learned man used to be the one who muddled
things, who scrambled thought, who took reason away,
and instead, thrust upon us faith, with a threat of
punishment if we did not accept it, and an offer of re-
•ward if we did.
"We have now discovered that the so-called learned
man had no authority, either for his threat of punish
ment, or his offer of reward. Hypocrisy will not now
pass current, and sincerity, frozen stiff with fright, is
no longer legal tender for truth. In the frank acknowl
edgment of ignorance there is much promise. The man
•who does not know, and is not afraid to say so, is in the
jpne of evolution. But for the head that is packed with
falsehood and the heart that is faint with fear, there is

ROBERT INGERSOLL  55
no hope. That head must be unloaded of its lumber,
and the heart given courage before the march of prog
ress can begin.
Now let us be frank, and let us be honest, just for a
I few moments.''Let us acknowledge that this revolution
i in thought that has occurred during the last tvsrenty-
five years was brought about mainly by one individual.
The world ^vas ripe for this man's utterance, other-
•wise he would not have gotten the speaker's eye. A
hundred years before we would have snuffed him out
in contumely and disgrace. But men listened to him
and paid high for the privilege. And those who hated
this man and feared him most, went, too, to listen, so as
to answer him and thereby keep the planet from swing
ing out of its orbit and sweeping on to destruction.
Wherever this man spoke, in towns and cities or coun
try, for weeks the air was heavy with the smoke of
rhetoric, and reasons, soggy and solid, and fuzzy logic
and muddy proof were dragged like siege guns to the
defense.They dared the man to come back and fight it out.
The clouds were charged with challenges, and the
prophecy was made and made again that never in the
same place could this man go back and get a second
hearing. Yet he did go back year after year, and crowds
hung upon his utterances and laughed with him at the
scare-crow that had once filled their day dreams, made
the nights hideous, and the future black with terror.
Through his influence the tears of pity put out the

56  ROBERT INGERSOLL
fires of hell ; and he literally laughed the devil out^f
court. This man, more than any other man of his
century, made the clergy free. He raised the standard
of intelligence in both pew and pulpit, and the preachers
who denounced him most, often were, and are, the
most benefited by his work.
This man was Robert G. Ingersoll.
On the urn that encloses his ashes should be these
words: LIBERATOR OF MEN. W^hen he gave his
lecture on "The Gods" at Cooper Union, New York
City, in 1872, he fired a shot heard 'round the world.
Q, It was the boldest, strongest, and most vivid utter
ance of the century.
At once it was recognized that the thinking world had
to deal with a man of power. Efforts were made in
dozens of places to bring statute law to bear upon him,
and the State of Delaware held her whipping post
in readiness for his benefit; but blasphemy enactments
and laws for the protection of the Unkno^wn were
inoperative in his gracious presence. -ingersoll was a
hard hitter, but the splendid good nature of the man,
his freedom from all personal malice, and his unsullied
character saved him, in those early days, from the
violence that would surely have overtaken a smaller
person. The people who now seek to disparage the name and
fame of Ingersoll dwell on the things he was not, and
give small credit for that which he was.
They demand infinity and perfection, not quite willing

ROBERT INGERSOLL  57
yet to acknowledge that perfection has never been
incorporated in a single soul.
Let us acknowledge freely that Ingersoll was not a
pioneer in science. Let us admit, for argument's sake,
that Rousseau, Voltaire, Paine and Renan voiced every
argument that he put forth. Let us grant that he was
often the pleader, and that the lawyer habit of painting
his own side large, never quite forsook him, and that
he w^as swayed more by his feelings than by his intellect.
Let us further admit that in his own individual case
there was small evolution, and that for thirty years he
threshed the same straw. And these things being said
and admitted, nothing more in truth can be said against
the man.
But these points are neither to his discredit nor dis
grace. On them you cannot construct an indictment —
they mark his limitations, that is all.
Ingersoll gave superstition such a jolt that the con
sensus of intelligence has counted it out. Ingersoll
did not destroy the good — all that is vital and excellent
and worthy in religion we have yet, and in such
measure as it never existed before.
In every so-called "Orthodox" pulpit you can now
hear sermons calling upon men to manifest their religion
in their work; to show their love for God in their
attitude toward men ; to gain the kingdom of heaven
by having the kingdom of heaven in their own hearts.
Cf, Ingersoll pleaded for the criminal, the weak, the
defenseless and the depraved. Our treatment toward all

58  ROBERT INGERSOLL
these has changed marvelously within a decade. When
we ceased to believe that God was going to damn folks,
we left off damning them ourselves. W^e think better
now of God and we think better of men and women.
\Vho dares no^w talk about the "hopelessly lost" ?
You cannot afford to indict a man who practiced every
so-called Christian virtue, simply because there was
a flaw or two in his "belief" — the world has gotten
beyond that. Everybody now admits that Ingersoll
was quite as good a man as those who denounced him
most. His life \vas full of kind deeds and generous
acts, and his daily v^alk v/as quite as blameless as
the life of the average priest and preacher.
Those who seek to cry Ingersoll down reveal either
density or malice. He did a great and necessary work,
and did it so thoroughly and well that it will never
have to be done again. His mission was to liberalize
and to Christianize every church in CUfisten^onr; and
no denomination, be its creed ever so ossified, stands
now where it stood before Ingersoll began his crusade.
He shamed men into sanity.
Ingersoll uttered in clarion tones what thousands of
men and women believed, but dared not voice. JHe-
•was the spokesman for many of the best thinkers of
his time. He abolished fear, gave courage in place of
cringing doubt, and lived what he believed was truth.
His was a brave, cheerful and kindly life. He was
loved most by those who knew him best, for in his
nature there was neither duplicity nor concealment.

ROBERT INGERSOLL  59
He had nothing to hide. W^e know and acknowledge
\ the man's limitations, yet we realize his worth :'his
influence in the cause of simplicity and honesty has
been priceless.
The dust of conflict has . not yet settled ; prejudice
still is in the air, but time, the great adjuster, will
give Ingersoll his due. The history of America's
thought evolution can never be written and the name
of IngersolLleft out. In his own splendid personality
he had no rivals, no competitors. He stands alone ; and
no name in liberal thought can ever eclipse his. He pre- j
pared the way for the thinkers and the doers who!
shall come after, and in insight surpass him, reaching/
spiritual heights which he, perhaps, could never attain.]
Q This earth is a better place, and life and liberty are
safer because Robert G. Ingersoll lived.
The last words of Ingersoll were, by a strange coinci
dence, the dying words of his brother Ebon: "I am
better!" — words of hope, words of assurance to the
woman he loved.
Sane to the last ! And let us, too, hope that these dy
ing words are those of all the countless dead.

HERE ENDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME OF
ROBERT INGERSOLL: WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD.
THE BORDERS, INITIALS AND ORNAMENTS DESIGNED
BY SAMUEL WARNER, PRESSWORK BY LOUIS SCHELL,
& THE WHOLE DONE INTO A BOOK BY THE ROYCROFT
ERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, IN
THE MONTH OF AUGUST, IN THE YEAR MCMIII « ji «

An article rtiade with an eye on, the .purchaser
is already ruined.— George Wharton James
R O Y C R O F T

Is for the Roycrofters.
We made forty of
these chairs for our
selves, and also for you
should you care for
them. V/e call it the
SDinins'Wioom Cdett
No. 2. You ; may place it
in your haUw,ay, though,
if your hallway is good
enough. Slightly curved
back, leather seat. Hand
made from quartered
oak, nineteen anc} one-
half inches ^vide, eighteen and one-half inehes
deep, and forty-one and one-half inches high.
Price $10.00 each — $6o.poper half dozen. Address

The Roycrofters

EAST AURORA
NEW YORK

OPPOSITE THIS IS A SAMPLE PAGE OF
THE TWO DOLLAR COPYMDF FRIENDSHIP
THE ROYCROFT ED,ITION OF
F R I E Ni^D S H I P
By HENRY D. THORE^U /
_  . , o
THE Roycrofters have just completed |
an edition of this helpful and ennob
ling essay. The volume has soine
fifty pages, printed from a font of Chelteiv^
ham type; the title page, initials and tail
piece hand-illumined, the binding of limp
leather, silk lined, the whole forming a
pleasing takement— -at least we think so.
Q This is a good book to read, and a good
book to give to Her.
The price is Two Dollars for the regular
edition. A few tall copies, Five Dollars
each; fifty copies on Imperial Japan, ini
tials, drawn in free hand, Sixty Dollars ^
each; ten on Classic Vellum, specially
bound in full levant, initials drawn in free'
hand. Two Hundred & Fifty Dollars each
The Roycrofters, SrwYo"?:

HILE we float here, far
from that tributary stream
on whose banks our friends
and kindred dwell, our
thoughts, like the stars,
come out of their horizon
still; for there circulates a finer blood than
Lavoisier has discovered the laws of, — the
blood, not of kindred merely, but of kindness,
^hose pulse still beats at any distance and
fbrever. After, years of vain familiarity, some
distant gesture or unconscious behavior, which
we remember, speaks to us with more em
phasis than the wisest or kindest words. We
are sometimes made aware of a kindness long
passed, and realize that there have been times
when our friends' thoughts of us were of so
pure and lofty a character that they passed
over us like the winds of heaven unnoticed ;
when they treated us not as what we were,
but as what we aspired to be. There has just
[1]

Contemplations

The quintessence of Hubbardisnt
is in a Book called
Forty essays, and about five hundred sayings about life and
things. The price is Five Dollars. 'Twill he sent on suspicion,.
THE ROYCROFTERS, EAST AURORA, NEW YORK, U.S.A. 7

UFEMEMfiEDSmP
IN THB ^*999**999*9*999**9*9*99
AMERICAN ACADEMY
OF IMMORTALS ?^r??
COSTS TEN DOLLARS
NO FURTHER DUES OR ASSESSMENTS, AND
NO LIABILITIES. YOUR DUTIES CONSISl* IN
LIVING UP TO YOUR IPJ^AL (AS NEARLY AS
POSSIBLE) AND ATTENDING THE ANNUAL
DINNER (IF CONVENIENT). #^ir.rjririr>rjr*"
(i) The membership entitles you to one copy of the
Philistine magazine for ninety'^nine years, but no
longer. (a) AU the back bound volumes of "The Philistine"
we have on hand.
(3) "Little Journeyii," beginning with current num
bers, and all that shall be issued in future.
(4) Such other books, pamphlets, addresses and doc
uments as the Roycrofters may elect to send you
Every Little White.
(5) Success, Health and Love Vibrations, sent daily
by the Pastor or Ali Baba,
ADDRESS THE BURSAR, EAST AURORA, NEW YORK

Kittlt ^ouvnes^
TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT ORATORS

Vol. xrU. SEPT., 1903. No. 3

By ELBERT pUBBARD

Single Copies, 25 cents

By the Year, $3.00

LITTLE JOURNEYS
TOTHE HOMES OF
EMINENT ORATORS
By ELBERT HUBBARD

S U B J E C T S A S FOLLOW S
1 Pericles 7 Marat
2 Mark Antony 8 Robert Ingersoll
3 Savonarola 9 Patrick Henry
4 Martin Luther 10 Thomas Starr King
5 Edmund Burke 11 Henry "Ward Beecher
6 WilUam Pitt 12 WendtfU Phillips

One booklet a month will be issued |^^ usual, begm-
ning on January ist. ' *'^
The LITTLE JOURNEYS for 1903 wiU be strictly
de luxe in form and workmanship. The type will be a
new font of antique blackface; the initials designed
especially for this work ; a frontispiece portrait from
the original drawing made at our Shop. The booklets,
will be stitched by hand with silk.
The price — 25 cents each, or $3.qp for theyear.
Address THE ROYCROFTERS at their
Shop, which is at East Aurora, New York
Entered at the postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission
as second-class mail matter. Copyright, 1902, by Elbert Hubbard

NO
AGENCY OR
LECTUREBUREAUhas authority to
book engagements
for Mr. Elbert
Hubbard the com
ing season. Here
after the Pastor
will largely elimi
nate the eloquence
and work his logic
up into literature. Possibly, however, he may
give a few addresses on occasional trips he may
make for the rejuvenation of his Cosmo^; so if
' you are desirous of Oratorical Vibrations, write
me Cublet and he may arrange it. Address thus:
Elbert Hubbard II, East Aurora, N. Y.

TTUBBARP is no imperson-
ator,~ no mere entertainer.
It requires an audience of intel
ligence and culttire to follow him
and get all that goe^ between the
line^ and to datCh the thoifghts
he stlggests, but leaves unsaid.^
He, is quiet, conversational, —
never rants,<SGreechesormaKes •
a bid for applause. He tells his
story ,v<rith\a poise and earnest
ness that is a benediction, after
all the story tellers whii have
Come to us itl the guis6 of lec
turers. The rapt attention that
was given the ^pfaker last night
was iQore flattering than any
ai>plau,se ; and we do not re-!
niember, since Wendell Phil-
lijjs? -.tiine, when a silence of
ji^lf a, Jjliiijlte could occur in a
lecture — a silence packed with
, All^i^jiight, when eyes were misty
,j44«jJtfeout a feeling of embar-
ras^sment.^Ce4ar Rapids ( la. )
?•' l^epiablican.""

PHALANSTERIE
The Wdrd was first used by Fourier, and
iniBan;s literally "the home ofi friends. ''^ The
ROYCROFT PHALANSTERIE, with its new
addition, just completed, consists iOf a kitchen,
scientific and modern in all of its appointments;
a dining-room that seats a hundred people;
thirty-eight sleeping rooms; reception rooms,
etc;, etc. That is to -say it' is an INNj managed
somewhat like a Swiss Monastery, simple, yet
complete in all of its appointments — where the
traveler is made welcome. There are? always a
few visitors with us. Some remain simply for a
iiieal, others stay a day, or a week^ or a month.
A! few avail ttiemselves^of the services of our
Musical Director, the Physical "Instrucfor,* or
take lessons in drawing and painting. i^The
prices: Meals, such as they are, say twenty-
five cents; lodging, fifty cents. If parties of a
dozen oi- more want accommodations, it is well
to telegraph ahead to THE BURSAR of
THE ROYCROFTERS
EAST AURORA, NEW YORK

HE BEST VALUE,
perhaps, in Roycroft Books is
in the De Luxe copies of the
LITTLfe JOURNEYS. These
Volumes are One Dollar each,
and they are the only One Dol
lar books the Roycrofters have ever made or
will ever make. On hand-made paper, bound
in limp chamois, silk lined, silk marker, hand-
illumined. We have a few on hand of each of
the following subjects:

/William Morris
Robert Browning
'Tennyson
'A -

Robert Bums .
John Milton
Samuel Johnson

Macaulaty
Byron Addison

Southey
Coleridge Disraeli

Paganini Chopin

Mozart
Bach
Meiidelssohn

Liszt
Beethoven
Handel

'Verdi Schumann
Brahms

j.liRaphaelf ^Leonardo Botticelli

Thorwaldsen
Gainsborough
Velasquez

Corot
. Correggio'
Gian Bellini

Cellini
Abb'ey'
Whistler

Just One Dollar each — there is no profit in these books
-?for us, but they keep our boys and girls busy, and
show the. world what we can do.
The Roycrofters, East Aurora

ABOUT COMPLEXIONS
Food Makes Them Good or Bad.
Saturate the human body with strong coffee and it Will
in time show in the complexion of the coffee drinker.
C[ This is caused by the action of coffee on the liver,
thus throwing part of'the bile into the blood. Coffee
complexions are sallow and muddy and will stay that
way until coffee is given up entirely.
The sure way to recover rosy cheeks and red lips is to
quit coffee and drink Postum Food Coffee, which makes
red blood. "I had been for more than 20 y^pars an in
veterate coffee drinker and it is absolutely true that I
had so completely saturated myself with this drug
that my complexion toward the last becanie perfectly
yellow and .every nerve and fibre in me was affected
by the drugs in coffee.
" For days at a time I had been compelled to keep to
my bed on account of nervous headache and stomach
trouble, and medicines did not give me any relief. I
had never consulted a physician in regard to my head
aches and terrible complexion and I only found out the
cause of them after I commenced the use of Postum,
which became known to me through Grape-Nuts. We
all liked the food, Grape-INuts, and it helped us so we
thought Postum must certainly have merit and we
poncluded to try it. 'We found it so delicious that we
continued the use altogether, although I never expected
, it to help my health. ' - '
" After a fpw months my headaches were all gone and
my complexion had cleared wonderfully, then I knew
that my troubles had been caused by coffee and had
been cured when I left off coffee and drank Postum in
its place." Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek,
Mich. Postum will change the blood of any coffee drinker,
and rosy cheeks and health take the place of a yellow
skin and disease.

Patrick Henry

{Little Se
poupneysITo tbe Homes of
EMINENT
[ORATORS j
lUlititten byElbeitt
liubbapd 6 done!
into a Book by tbe
RoycPofteits at tbe
$bop, lobicb is in
East Huvovat ticw
YoPk, Jl. D. 1903

IT is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace,
peace; but there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The
next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to> our ears the clash
of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand
we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they
have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the
price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it, Almighty God ! — I know not
what course others may take ; but as for me, give me liberty or give
me death !

PATRICK HENRY

6i

ARAH SYME was a blooming widow,
thirty-two in June — such widows are
never over thirty-two — and managed her
estate of a thousand acres in Hanover
County, Virginia, with business ability.
That such a widow, and thirty-two,
should remain a widow in a pioneer coun
try was out of the question.
She had suitors. Their horses were tied
to the pickets all day long.
One of these suitors has described the
widovr for us. He says she was "lively
in disposition," and he also uses the
words "buxom" and "portly." I do not
like these expressions — they suggest too
much, so I will none of them. I v^^ould
rather refer to her as lissome and wil
lowy, and tell how her sorrow for the
dead wrapped her 'round with weeds
and becoming sable — ^but in the interests
of truth I dare not.
Some of her suitors were widowers —
ancient of days, fat and falstaffian. Others
were lean and lachrymose, with large
^families, fortunes impaired and futures
mostly behind. Then there were gay fox
hunting hoUuschickies, without serious
intent and minus both future and past
worth mentioning, who called and sat on

62  PATRICK HENRY
the front porch because they thought their presence
would be pleasing and relieve the tedium of widow
hood »^^
Then there was a young Scotch schoolmaster, edu
cated, temperate, and gentlemanly, who came to in
struct the two children of the widow in long division
and who blushed to the crown of his red head when
the widow invited him to tea.
Have a care, ^Vidow Syme ! Destiny has use for you
with your lively ways and portly form. You are to
make history, help mold a political policy, fan the
flames of ^var, and through motherhood make your
self immortal. Choose your casket wisely, O Widow
Syme ! It is the hour of Fate !

THE widovr was a Queen Bee and so had a per
fect right to choose her mate. The Scotchman
proved to be it. He was only twenty-five, they
say, but he was man enough vrhen standing before the
Registrar to make it thirty. When he put his red head
inside the church door some one cried, "Genius!"
And so they were married and lived happily ever after.
QAnd the name of the Scotchman was John Henry —
I'll not deceive you. Sweet!
John and Sarah were well suited to each other.
John was exact, industrious, practical. The wife had
a lively sense of humor, was entertaining and intelli
gent. Under the management of the canny Scot the

PATRICK HENRY  63
estate took on a look of prosperity. The man was
a model citizen — honors traveled his way: he became
colonel of the local militia, county surveyor, and finally
magistrate. Babies arrived as rapidly as Nature would
allow and with the regularity of an electric clock —
although, of course, there was n't any electricity then.
QThe second child was named Patrick, Jr., in honor
and in deference to a brother of the happy father — a
clergyman of the Established Church. Patrick Henry
always subscribed himself "P. Henry, Jr.," & whether
he was ever aware that there w^as only one Patrick
Henry is a question.
There were nine altogether in the brood — eight of them
good, honest, barn-yard fowls.
And one was an eagle.
V/hy this was so no one knew — the mother did n't
know and the father could not guess. All of them were
born under about the same conditions, all received
about the same training — or lack of it.
However, no one at first suspected that the eagle was
an eagle — over a score of years were to pass before he
was suddenly to spread out strong, sinewy wings and
soar to the ether.
Patrick Henry caused his parents more trouble and
anxiety than all the rest of the family combined. Pat
rick and culture had nothing in common. As a young
ster he roamed the woods, bare of foot and bare of
head, his only garments a shirt and trousers held in
place by a single gallus. He was indolent, dreamy.

64  PATRICK HENRY
procrastinating, frolicsome, with a beautiful aversion
to books, and a fondness for fishing that ^vas carried
to the limit. The boy's mother did n't worry very
much about the youngster, but the father had spells
when he took the matter to the Lord in prayer, and
afterward, growing impatient of an answer, fell to and
used the tawse without mercy. John Henry probably
did this as much to relieve his ow^n feelings as for the
good of the boy, but doubtless he did not reason quite
that far.
Patrick nursed his black and blue spots and fell back
on his fiute for solace.
After one such seance, when he v^as twelve years of
age, he disappeared with a colored boy about his own
age. They took a shot gun, fishing tackle and a violin.
They were gone three weeks, during vtrhich time Patrick
had not been out of his clothes, nor once washed his
face. They had slept out under the sky by camp-fires.
The smell of smoke vras surely on his garments, and
his parents were put to their wits to distinguish be
tween the bond and the free.
Had Patrick been an only child he would have driven
his mother into hysteria and his father to the flowing
bowl (I trust I use the right expression). If not this,
then it would have been because the fond parents had
found peace by transforming their son into a Little
Lord Fauntleroy. Nature shows great wisdom in send
ing the young in litters — they educate each other, and
so divide the time of the mother that attention to the

PATRICK HENRY  65
individual is limited to the actual needs. Too much in
terference with children is a grave mistake.
Patrick Henry quit school at fifteen with a love for
'rithmetic — it was such a fine puzzle — and an equal
regard for history — history was a lot o' good stories.
For two years he rode wild horses, tramped the woods
vv^ith rod and gun, and played the violin at country
dances if if
Another spasm of fear, chagrin and discouragement
s\veeping over the father on account of the indifference
and profligacy of his son, he decided to try the youth
in trade, and if this failed, to let him go to the devil.
So a stock of general goods was purchased and Patrick
and William, the elder brother, were shoved off upon
the uncertain sea of commerce.
The result was just what might have been expected.
The store was a loafing place for all the ne'er-do-wells
in the vicinity. Patrick trusted everybody — those who
could not get trusted elsewhere patronized Patrick.
Things grew worse. In a year, when just eighteen years
old, P. Henry, Jr., got married — married a rollicking
country lass, as foolish as himself — done in bravado,
going home from a dance, calling a minister out on
his porch, in a crazy quilt, to perform the ceremony.
John Henry would have applied the birch to this hare
brained bridegroom, and the father of the girl would
have stung her pink and white anatomy, but Patrick
coolly explained that the matter could not be undone —
they Twere duly married for better or for ^vorse, and so

66  PATRICK HENRY
the less fuss the better. Patrick loved his Doxey, and
the Doxey loved her Patrick, and together they made
as precious a pair of beggars as ever played Gypsy
music at a country fair.
Most of the time they v^ere at the home of the bride's
parents — not by invitation — but they were there. The
place was a wayside tavern. The girl made herself
useful in the kitchen, and Patrick \velcomed the trav
eler and tended bar.
So things drifted, until Patrick was twenty-four,
when one fine day he appeared on the streets of Will
iamsburg. He had come in on horseback and his boots,
clothing, hair and complexion formed a chromatic en
semble the color of Hanover County clay. The account
comes from his old time comrade, Thomas Jefferson,
who was at W^illiamsburg attending college.
" I've come up here to be admitted to the bar," gravely
said P. Henry to T. Jefferson.
"But you are a bar-keeper now, I hear."
"Yes," said Patrick, "but that 's the other kind. You
see, I 've been studying law, and I want to be admitted
to practice."
It took several minutes for the man who was to write
the Declaration of Independence to get it through his
head that the matter was n't a joke. Then he con-
l^iucted th^ lean, lank, ra wlynnBijI rustic into the^esence
of the judg&srThere were four of these" ffienTWythe,
Pendleton, Peyton and John Randolph. These men
were all to be colleagues of the bumpkin at the First

PATRICK HENRY  67
Continental Congress at Philadelphia, but that lay in
the misty future.
They looked at the candidate in surprise; two of them
laughed and two looked needlessly solemn. However,
after some little parley, they consented to examine
the clown as to his fitness to practice law.
In answer to the first question as to how long he had
studied, his reply was, "About six weeks."
One biographer says six months, and still another,
with anxious intent to prove the excellence of his
man, says six years.
W^ehadbetter take Jefferson's word — "Patrick Henry's
reply was six weeks." As much as to say, "What
difference is it about how long I have studied ? You
are here to find out how much I know. There are men
who can get more in six ^veeks than others can in six
years — I may be one of these."
The easy indifference of the fellow^ was sublime. But
he did know a little law, and he also knew a deal of
history. The main thing against him was his unkempt
appearance. After some hesitation the judges gave the
required certificate, with a little lecture on the side
concerning the beauties of etiquette and right attire
as an adjunct to excellence in the learned professions.
QYoung Mr. Jefferson did n't wait to witness the
examination of his friend — it was too painful — and be
sides he did not wish to be around so as to get any of the
blame when the prayer for admission was denied.
So Patrick had to find Thomas. "I've got it!" said

68  PATRICK HENRY
Patrick, and smiled grimly as he tapped his breast
pocket where the certificate was safely stowed.
Then he mounted his lean dun horse and rode away,
disappearing into the forest.

AS a pedagogic policy the training that Patrick
Henry received would be rank ruin. Educational
systems are designed for average intellects, but
as if to show us the littleness of our little schemes.
Destiny seems to give her first prizes to those who
have evaded all rules and ignored every axiom. Rules
and regulations are for average men — and so are aver
age prizes.
Speak it softly : There are several ways of getting an
education. Patrick Henry got his in the woods, follow
ing winding streams or lying at night under the stars ;
by mastering horses and wild animals ; by listening to
the wrangling of lawyers at country lawsuits, and the
endless talk of planters who sat long hours at the
tavern, willingly leaving the labors of the field to the
sons of Ham.
Thus, at twenty-four, Patrick Henry had first of all a
physical constitution like watch-spring steel — he had
no nerves — fatigue was unknown to him — he was not
aware that he had a stomach. His intellectual endow
ment lay in his close intimacy with Nature — he knew
her and was so a part of her that he never thought of
her, any more than the fishes think of the sea. The

PATRICK HENRY  69
continual dwelling on a subject proves our ignorance
of it — we discuss only that for which we are reaching
outfgf a-
Then, Patrick Henry knev^ men — heknewthevrorkers,
the toilers, the young, the old, the learned and the
ignorant. He had mingled with mankind from behind
the counter, the tavern bar, in court and school and
in church — by the roadside, at horse-races, camp-meet
ings, dances and social gatherings. He was light of
foot, ready of tongue, and with no thought as to re
spectability, and no doubts and fears regarding the
bread and butter question. He had no pride, save pos
sibly a pride in the fact that he had none. He played
checkers, worked out mathematical problems in his
mind to astonish the loafers, related history to instruct
them — and get it straight in his own mind — and told
them stories to make them laugh. It is a great misfor
tune to associate only with cultured people." God loves
the common people," said Lincoln, "otherwise He
would not have made so many of them." Patrick Henry
knew them ; and is not this an education — to know Life ?
QHe knew he could move men; that he could mold
their thoughts ; that he could convince them and bring
them over to his own way of thinking. He had done it
by the hour. In the continual rural litigations, he had
watched lawyers make their appeal to the jury ; he had
sat on these juries, and he knew he could do the trick
better. Therefore, he wanted to become a lawyer.
The practice of law to him was to convince, befog, or

70  PATRICK HENRY
divert the jury ; he could do it, and so he applied for
permission to practice lawr.
He was successful from the first. His clownish ways
pleased the judge, jury and spectators. His ready
tongue and infinite good humor made him a favorite.
There may not be much law^ in Justice of the Peace
proceedings, but there is a certain rude equity which
answers the purpose, possibly, better. And surely it is
good practice for the fledgelings : the best way to learn
law is to practice it. And the successful practice of the
law lies almost as much in evading the law as in com
plying with it — I suppose we should say that softly,
too. In support of the last proposition, let me say that
we are dealing vrith P. Henry, Jr., of Virginia, arch-
rebel, and a defier of law and precedent. Had he rev
erenced law as law, his name would have been writ in
water. The reputation of the man hinges on the fact
that he defied authority.
The first great speech of Patrick Henry was a defi
ance of the Common Law of England when it got in
the way of the rights of the people. Every immortal
speech ever given has been an appeal from the law of
man to the Higher Law.
Patrick Henry was twenty-seven; the same age that
W^endell Phillips was when he discovered himself.
No one had guessed the genius of the man — least of
all his parents. He himself did .not know his power.
The years that had gone had been fallow years — years
of failure — but it was all a getting together of his forces

PATRICK HENRY  71
for the spring. Relaxation is the first requisite of
strength. The case was a forlorn hope, and Patrick Henry, the
awkward but clever country pettifogger, ^vas retained
to defend the "Parsons' Cause," because he had opin
ions in the matter and no reputation to lose.
First, let it be known that Virginia had an Established
Church, which was really the Church of England. The
towns were called parishes, and the selectmen, or
supervisors, were vestrymen. These vestrymen hired
the rectors or preachers, and the money which paid
the preachers came from taxes levied on the people.
Q, Now the standard of value in Virginia was tobacco,
and the vestrymen, instead of paying the parsons in
money, agreed to pay each parson sixteen thousand
pounds of tobacco, with curates and bishops in pro
portion if if
But there came a bad year; the tobacco crop was
ruined by a drought, and the value of the weed doubled
in price.
The parsons demanded their tobacco ; a bargain was
a bargain ; when tobacco was plentiful and cheap they
had taken their quota and said nothing. Now that to
bacco was scarce and high, things were merely equal
ized ; a contract was a contract.
But the people complained. The theme was discussed
in every tavern and store. There were not wanting in
fidels to say that the parsons should have prayed for
rain, and that as they did not secure the moisture.

72  PATRICK HENRY
they were remiss. Others asked by what right shall
men who do not labor demand a portion of the crop
from those who plant, hoe and harvest ?
Of course all good Church people, all of the really
loyal citizens, argued that the Parsons vtrere a neces
sary part of the state — vrithout them society would
sink into savagery — and as they did their duties, they
should be paid by the people ; they served, and all con
tracts made with them should be kept.
But the mutterings of discontent continued, and to
appease the people, the House of Burgesses passed a
law providing that instead of tobacco being a legal
tender, all debts could be paid in money, figuring to
bacco at the rate of two cents per pound. As tobacco
vras worth about three times this amount, it will be
seen at once that this Tvas a law made in favor of the
debtor class. It cut the salaries of the rectors down
just two-thirds, and struck straight at English Com
mon Law, ^vhich provides for the sacredness of con
tract if if
The rectors combined and decided to make a test case.
The Parsons vs. the People — or, more properly, "The
Rev. John Maury vs. The Colony of Virginia."
Both law and equity were on the side of the Parsons.
Their case was clear ; only by absolutely overriding
the law of England could the people win. The array
of legal talent on the side of the Church included the
best lawyers in the Colony — the Randolphs and other
aristocrats were there.

PATRICK HENRY  73
And on the other side was Patrick Henry, the tall,
lean, lank, sallow and uncouth representative of the
people. Five judges were on the bench, one of whom
was the father of Patrick Henry.
The matter was opened in a logical, lucid, judicial
speech by the Hon. Jeremiah Lyon. He stated the case
without passion or prejudice — there was only one side
to it <• jdT
Then Patrick Henry arose. He began to speak ; stopped,
hesitated, began again, shuflled his feet, cleared his
throat, and his father, on the bench, blushed for shame.
The auditors thought he was going to break down —
even the opposition pitied him.
Suddenly, his tall form shot up, he stepped one step
forward and stood like a statue of bronze — his own
father did not recognize him, he had so changed. His
features were transformed from those of a clown into
those of command and proud intelligence. A poise so
perfect came upon him that it was ominous. He began
to speak — his sentences were crystalline, sharp, clear,
direct. The judges leaned forward, the audience hung
breathless upon his \vords.
He began by showing how all wealth comes from labor
applied to the land. He pictured the people at their
work, showed the laborer in the field in the rains of
spring, under the blaze of the summer sun, amid the
frosts of autumn — bond and free working side by side
with brain and brawn, to wring from the earth a
scanty sustenance. He showed the homes of the poor,

74  PATRICK HENRY
the mother with babe at her breast, the girls cooking
at the fire, others tending the garden — all the process
of toil and travail, of patient labor and endless effort,
were rapidly marshaled forth. Over against this, he
unveiled the clergy in broadcloth and silken gowns,
riding in carriages, seated on cushions and living a life
of luxury. He turned and faced the opposition, and
shook his bony finger at them in scorn and contempt.
The faces of the judges grew livid ; many of the Par
sons, unable to endure his withering rebuke, sneaked
away : the people forgot to applaud ; only silence and
the stinging, ringing voice of the speaker filled the air.
Q He accused the Parsons of being the defiers of the
law; the people had passed the statute; the preachers
had come, asking that it be annulled. And then was
voiced, I believe, for the first time in America, the
truth that government exists only by the consent
of the governed : that law is the crystallized opinion
of the people — that the voice of the people is the voice
of God — that the act of the Parsons, in seeking to over
ride the will of the people, was treason, and should
be punished. He defied the Common Law of England
and appealed to the Law of God — the question of right
— the question of justice — to whom does the fruit of
labor belong!
Before the fiery, overpowering torrent of eloquence of
the man, the reason of the judges fled. There was but
one will in that assembly, and that will was the will
of Patrick Henry.

PATRICK HENRY  75
IN that first great speech of his life — probably the
greatest speech then ever given in Virginia — Patrick
Henry committed himself irrevocably on the sub
ject of human rights. The theme of taxation came to
him in a ^vay it never had before. Men are taxed that
other men may live in idleness. Those Awho pay the
tax must decide whether the tax is just or not — any
thing else is robbery. We shall see how this thought
took a hold on Patrick's very life. It was the weak
many against the entrenched few. He had said more
than he had intended to say — he had expressed things
which he never before knew that he kne^v. As he made
truth plain to his auditors, he had clarified his own
mind iifigf
The heavens had opened before him — he v^as as one
transformed. That outward change in his appearance
only marked an inward illumination which had come
to his spirit. In great oratory the appearance of the
man is always changed. Men grow by throes and throbs,
by leaps and bounds. The idea of "Cosmic Conscious
ness' ' — being born again — is not without its foundation
in fact — the soul is in process of gestation, and when
the time is ripe the new birth occurs, and will occur
again and again.
Patrick Henry at once took his place among the strong
men of Virginia — he was a personality that must be
reckoned with in political affairs. His law practice
doubled, and to keep it down he doubled his prices —
with the usual effect. He then tried another expedient.

76  PATRICK HENRY
and very few lawyers indeed are strong enough to do
this — he wrould accept no case until the fee was paid
in advance. "I keep no books — my fee is so much —
pay this and I Avill undertake your case." He accepted
no contingent cases, and if he believed his client was
in the wrong, he told him so, and brought about a com
promise. Some enemies were made through this frank
advice, but when the fight was once on, Patrick Henry
was a whirlwind of wrath — he saw but one side and
believed in his client's cause as though it had been
written by Deity on tables of stone.
Long years after the death of Patrick Henry, Thomas
Jefferson made some remarks about Henry's indolence,
and his indisposition to write out things. A little
more insight, or less prejudice, would have shown
that Patrick Henry's plan was only Nature's scheme
for the conservation of forces, and at the last was the
highest ^visdom.
By demanding the fee in advance, the business was
simplified immensely. It tested the good faith of the
would-be litigant, cut down the number of clients,
preserved the peace, freed the secretions, aided diges
tion and tended to sweet sleep o' nights.
Litigation is a luxury that must be paid for — by the
other fellow, we expect when we begin, but later we
find we are it. If the lawyers would form a union and
agree not to listen to any man's tale of woe until he
placed a hundred dollars in the attorney's ginger jar,
it would be a benefit untold to humanity. Contingent

PATRICK HENRY  77
fees and blackmail have much in common. Q A man
who could speak in public like Patrick Henry was
destined for a political career. A vacancy in the
State Legislature occurring, the tide of events carried
him in. Hardly had he taken the oath and been seated
before the house resolved itself into a Committee of
the 'Whole to consider the Stamp Act. Mutterings
from New England had been heard, but Virginia was
inclined to abide by the acts of the Mother Country,
gaining merely such modifications as could be brought
about by modest argument and respectful petition.
And in truth let it be stated that the Mother Country
had not shown herself blind to the rights of the Colonies,
nor deaf to their prayers — the aristocrats of Virginia
usually got what they wanted. Cf The Stamp Act was
up for discussion — the gavel rapped for order and the
Speaker declared the house in session.
"Mr. Speaker," rang out a high, clear voice. It was
the voice of the new member. Inadvertently he was
recognized and had the floor. There was a little
more "senatorial courtesy" then than now in de
liberative bodies, and one of the unwritten laws of the
Virginia Legislature was that no member during his
first session should make an extended speech or take
an active part in the business of the house.
"Sir, I present for the consideration of this House the
following resolutions." And the new member read
seven resolutions he had scrawled off on the fly leaves
of a convenient law book.

78  PATRICK HENRY
As he read, the older members winced and writhed.
Peyton Randolph cursed him under his breath. This
audacious youth in buckskin shirt and leather breeches
v^as assuming the leadership of the House. His audacity
was unprecedented! Here are Numbers Five, Six,
and Seven of the Resolutions — these give the meat
of the matter:
Resolved, That the general assembly of this colony
has the only and sole exclusive right and power to
lay taxes and impositions upon the inhabitants of this
colony; and that every attempt to vest such power in
any person or persons whatsoever, other than the
general assembly aforesaid, has a manifest tendency
to destroy British as well as American freedom.
Resolved, That His Majesty's liege people, the in
habitants of this colony, are not bound to yield obedi
ence to any law or ordinance whatever, designed to
impose any taxation whatsoever upon them, other
than the laws or ordinances of the general assembly
aforesaid if if
Resolved, That any person who shall, by speaking or
writing, assert or maintain that any person or persons,
other than the general assembly of this colony, have
any right or power to impose or lay any taxation on
the people here, shall be deemed an enemy to His
Majesty's colony.
As the uncouth member ceased to read, there went
up a howl of disapproval. But the resolutions were
launched, and according to the rules of the House they
could be argued, and in order to be repudiated, must
be voted upon.
Patrick Henry stood almost alone. Pitted against him

PATRICK HENRY  79
was the very flower of Virginia's age and intellect.
Logic, argument, abuse, raillery and threat were
heaped upon his head. He stood like adamant and
answrered shot for shot. It was the speech in the "Par
sons' Cause" multiplied by ten — the theme w^as the
same — the right to confiscate the results of labor. Be
fore the debater had ceased, couriers were carrying
copies of Patrick Henry's resolutions to Nev^ England.
Every press printed them — the people were aroused,
and the name of Patrick Henry became known in every
cot and cabin throughout the Colonies. He was the
mouthpiece of the plain people ; what Samuel Adams
stood for in New England, Patrick Henry hurled in
voice of thunder at the heads of aristocrats in Virginia.
He lighted the fuse of rebellion.
One passage in that first encounter in the Virginia
Legislature has become deathless. Hacknied though
it be, it can never grow old. Referring to the injustice
of the Stamp Act, Patrick Henry reached the climax
of his speech in these words : " Caesar had his Brutus ;
Charles the First, his Cromwell; & George the Third — ' '
"Treason," shouted the Speaker, and the gavel splint
ered the desk. "Treason! treason," came in roars
from all over the house. Patrick Henry paused, proud
and defiant, waiting for the tumult to subside — "And
George the Third may profit by their example. If this
be treason, make the most ofit! " And he took his seat.
CtThe resolutions were put to a vote and carried. Again
Patrick Henry had won.

80  PATRICK HENRY
BY a singular coincidence, on the same day that
Patrick Henry, of his own accord, introduced
those resolutions at ^Villiamsburg, a mass
meeting was held in Boston to consider the same
theme, and similar resolutions were passed. There
was this difference, however — Patrick Henry flung
his reasons into the teeth of an intrenched opposition
and fought the fight single-handed, while in Boston
the resolutions were read and passed by an assembly
that had met for no other purpose.
Patrick Henry's triumph was heralded throughout
New England and gave strength and courage to those
of feeble knees. From a Colonial he sprang into national
fame, and his own words, "I am not a Virginian — I
am an American ! " went ringing through New England
hills if if
Meantime, Patrick Henry went back to his farm and
law office. His wife rejoiced in his success, laughed
with him at his mishaps and was always the helpful,
uncomplaining comrade, and as he himself expressed it,
"My best friend." And when he would get back home
from one of his trips, the neighbors would gather to
hear from his own lips about what he had done & said.
He was still the unaffected countryman, seemingly
careless, happy and indolent. It was on the occasion
of one of these family gatherings that a contemporary
saw him and v^rote, " In mock complaint he exclaimed,
' How can I play the fiddle with two babies on each
inee and three on my back!'"

PATRICK HENRY  8i
So the years went by in work, play and gradually
widening fame. Patrick Henry grew with his work —
the years gave him dignity — gradually the thought of
his heart 'graved its lines upon his face. The mouth
became firm and the entire look of the man was that
of earnest resolution. Fate was pushing him on. \Vhat
once v^as only whispered, he had voiced in trumpet
tones; the thought of liberty was being openly ex
pressed even in pulpits.
He had been returned to the Legislature, was a mem
ber of the Continental Congress, and rode horseback
side by side with Washington and Pendleton to Phila
delphia, as told at length in W^ashington's diary.
In his utterances he was a little less fiery, but in his
heart, everybody who knew him at all realized that
there dwelt the thought of liberty for the Colonies.
John Adams wrote to Abigail that Patrick Henry looked
like a Quaker preacher turned Presbyterian.
A year later came what has been rightly called the
third great speech of Henry's life, the speech at the
Revolutionary Convention at Richmond. Good people
often expect to hear oratory at a banquet, a lyceum
lecture, or in a Sunday sermon, but oratory is neither
lecture, talk, harangue, declamation nor preaching.
Of course we say that the great speech is the one that
has been given many times, but the fact is, the great
speech is never given but once.
The time is ripe — the hour arrives— mighty issues
tremble in the balances. The auditors are not there to

82  PATRICK HENRY
be amused nor instructed — they have not stopped at
the box-oflice and paid good money to have their
senses alternately lulled and tittilated — no! The ques
tion is that of liberty or bondage, life or death — pas
sion is in the saddle, — hate and prejudice are sweeping
events into a maelstrom, — and now is the time for
oratory! Such occasions are as rare as the birth of
stars. A man stands before you — it is no time for fine
phrasing — no time forpose or platitude. Self-conscious
ness is sw^allowed up in purpose. He is as calm as
the ^vaters above the Rapids of Niagara, as composed
as a lioness before she makes her spring. Intensity
measures itself in perfect poise. And Patrick Henry
arises to speak. Those who love the man pray for him
in breathless silence, and the many who hate him in
their hearts, curse him. Pale faces grow paler, throats
swallow hard, hands clutch at nothing and open and
shut in nervous spasms. It is the hour of fate. Patrick
Henry speaks:

MR. PRESIDENT: It is natural for man to in
dulge in the illusions of hope. W^e are apt to
shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen
to the song of the siren until she transforms us into
beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great
and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed
to be of the number of those who having eyes see not,
and having ears hear not the things which so nearly
concern their temporal salvation ? For my part, what
ever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know

PATRICK HENRY  83
the whole truth; to know the worst & to provide for it.
Q I have but one lamp by w^hich my feet are guided ;
and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no
way of judging of the future but by the past. And
judging by the past, I wish to know what there has
been in the conduct of the British Ministry for the last
ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen
have been pleased to solace themselves and this
house? Is it that insidious smile with which our peti
tion has been lately received? Trust it not, it will
prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be
betrayed vsrith a kiss. Ask yourselves ho^v this gracious
reception of our petition comports with those war
like preparations which cover our waters and darken
our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work
of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves
so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called
in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves,
sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation
—the last arguments to which kings resort. I say,
gentlemen, what means this martial array, if its pur
pose be not to force us to submission? Can you assign
any other possible motive for it ? Has Britain any enemy
in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumu
lation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none.
They are meant for us; they can be meant for no
other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us
those chains which the British Ministry have been
so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them ?
Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that
for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer
upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject
up in every light of which it is capable; but it has
been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble
supplication? what terms shall we find which have

84  PATRICK HENRY
not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech
you, deceive ourselves longer.
Sir, we have done everything that could be done to
avert the storm vrhich is now coming on. We have
petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have suppli
cated, we have prostrated ourselves before the throne,
and have implored its interposition to arrest the ty
rannical hands of the Ministry and Parliament. Our
petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have
produced additional violence and insult; our suppli
cations have been disregarded; and we have been
spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne.
In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond
hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer
any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if we mean
to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for
which we have been so long contending, if we mean
not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which
we have been so long engaged, and which we have
pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glori
ous object of our contest shall be obtained— we must
fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to
arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!
They tell us, sir, that we are weak — unable to cope
with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we
be stronger? ^Vill it be the next week, or the next
year? ^Vill it be when we are totally disarmed, and
when a British guard shall be stationed in every
house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and
inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual re
sistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging
the delusive phantom of hope until our enemies shall
have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak,
if we make a proper use of those means which the
God of nature hath placed in our power. Three mil-

PATRICK HENRY  85
lions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and
in such a country as that which we possess, are in
vincible by any force which our enemy can send
against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles
alone. There is a just God who presides over the des
tinies of nations ; and who will raise up friends to fight
our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong
alone ; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Be
sides, sir, ^ve have no election. If we were base enough
to desire it, it is no\v too late to retire from the contest.
There is no retreat but in submission and slavery!
Our chains are forged; their clanking may be heard on
the plains of Boston ! The war is inevitable — and let
it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come!
It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen
may cry. Peace, peace; but there is no peace. The war
is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps from the
north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding
arms. Our brethren are already in the field. W^hy stand
we here idle ? What is it that gentlemen wish ? ^Vhat
would they have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sv^eet,
as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery ?
Forbid it. Almighty God! I know not what course
others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give
me death !
LIFE is a gradual death. There are animals and
insects that die on the instant of the culmination
of the act for which they were created. Success
is death, and death, if you have bargained wisely with
fate, is victory.
Patrick Henry, with his panther's strength and nerves
of steel, had thrown his life into a Cause — that Cause

86  PATRICK HENRY
had won, and now the lassitude of dissolution crept
into his veins. W^e hear of hair growing white in a
single day, and we knov7 that men may round out a
life-work in an hour. Oratory, like all of God's greatest
gifts, is bought with a price. The abandon of the orator
is the spending of his divine heritage for a purpose.
Patrick Henry had given himself. Even in his law
business he v^as the conscientious servant, and having
undertaken a cause, he put his soul into it. Shame
upon those ^vho call this man indolent ! He often did in
a day — bet^ween the rising of the sun and its setting —
w^hat others spread out thin over a life-time and then
fail to accomplish.
And novy virtue had gone out from him. Four times
had Virginia elected him Governor; he had served his
state well, and on the fifth nomination he had de
clined. W^hen ^Vashington wished to make him his
Secretary of State, he smiled and shook his head,
and to the entreaty that he be Chief Justice of the
Supreme Court, he said that there were others who
could fill the place better, but he knevtr of no one vrho
could manage his farm.
And so he again became the country lawyer, looked
after his plantation, attended to the education of his
children, told stories to the neighbors who came and
sat on the veranda — now and again went to rustic
parties, played the violin, and the voice that had cried,
" Give me liberty or give me death," called off for the
merry dancers as in the days of old.

PATRICK HENRY  87
In 1799, at the personal request of Washington, who
needed, or thought he needed, a strong advocate at
the Capitol, Patrick Henry ran for the Legislature. He
was elected, but before the day arrived when he was
to take his seat, he sickened and died, surrounded by
his stricken family. Those ^who knew him, loved him —
those who did not love him, did not know him.
And a Nation mourned his taking off.

HERE ENDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME OF
PATRICK HENRY: WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD.
THE BORDERS, INITIALS AND ORNAMENTS DESIGNED
BY SAMUEL WARNER, PRESSWORK BY LOUIS SCHELL,
& THE WHOLE DONE INTO A BOOK BY THE ROYCROFT
ERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, IN
THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER, IN THE YEAR MCMIII.

ROYCROFT FURNITURE
^ -iThis, the Roycroft
Magazine Pedes
tal, has been imitat-
^, ed but not duplicated.
'ji It is hard to duplicate
'"'a hand-made article,
• anyway.
'' It is S feet, ^ inches
^ high, made very solid
from quartered oak,
and hand-carved.
Price, Twenty dollars.

THE
ROYCROFTERS EAST AURORA N.Y.

OPPOSITE THIS IS A SAMPLE PAGE OF
THE TWO DOLLAR COPY OF FRIENDSHIP

THE ROYCROFT EDITION OF
FRIENDSHIP By HENRY D. THOREAU
•v.
THE Roycrofters have just completed
an edition of this helpful and enno
bling essay. The volume has some
fifty pages, printed from a font of Chelten
ham type; the title page, initials and tail
piece hand-illumined, the binding of limp
leather, silk lined, the whole forming a
pleasing takement — at least we think so.
0[ This is a good book to read, and a good
book to give to Her.
The price is Two Dollars for the regular
edition. A few tall copies, Five Dollars
each; fifty copies on Imperial Japan, ini
tials drawn in free hand. Sixty Dollars
each; ten on Classic Vellum, specially
bound in full levant, initials drawn in free
hand. Two Hundred & Fifty Dollars each
The Roycrofters, S^^To"?:

HILE we float here, far
from that tributary stream
on whose banks our f i;iends
and kindred dwell, our
thoughts, like the stars,
come out of their horizon
still; for there circulates a finer blood than
Lavoisier has discovered the laws of, — the
blood, not of kindred merely, but of kindness]
whose pulse still beats at any distance and
forever. After years of vain familiarity, some
\ distant gesture or unconscious behavior, which
we remember, speaks to us with more em
phasis than the wisest or kindest words. We
are sometimes made aware of a kindness long
passed, and realize that there have been times
when our friends' thoughts of us were of so
pure and lofty a character that they passed
over us like the winds of heaven unnoticed;
when they treated us not as what we were,
but as what we aspired to be. There has just
in

A List of Books
for sale at our Shop
Below is a list of books, some of which have al
most disappeared from mortal view. The volumes
are all bound roycroftie, and are offered to the Dis
cerning at the prices quoted. The Roycrofters are
alwayp glad to send their wares for inspection.
Therefore, no matter where you reside, drop us a
postal saying what books you would like to see,
and they will go forward at once.

m

Aucassin and Nicoiete, $2.00
Will o' the Mill, 2.00
Old John Burroughs, 2.00
A Christmas Carol, 2.00
Poe's Poems, 2.50
Rubaiyat, 5.00
Contemplations, 5.00
Garcia and Thirteen, 2.00
Little Journeys, accord
ing to binding, $2, $3 & 5.00

Story of a Passion,
Golden River,
Christmas Eve,
Self-Reliance,
Maud, Dreams, Hamlet,
Lodging for the Night,
Philistine, Vols. XI to
XVI, inclusive, each.

=?lf

The Roycrofters ^NewYork.'

¦=^j^ •?»«>¦ "^j^ w '^jf^I?

41^

LK^lVffiMfiEfiSmP AMERICAN ACADEMY
OF IMMORTALS Wf?^
costs f iEN DOLLARl
NofeRTHER DtlES OR ASSESSMENT^^tt-
NO UABILITIES^.YOUR DUTIES COV^^^
Lt^lNO UP TC^pUR.IDi^I^(AS NEA^if'AS'-
POSSIBLE) AND ATTENDING THE ANNUAL
DINNER CiS^CONlr^NlENT). if1t4rir4f0^0-m^

(i) The ni»e^||iershij> entitles you to one copy of tli#;^:
Philistine magazine for ninety-nine years, but iwi

(a) All the biMJk bound volumes of "The Philistine"
we have on hand.
-;(3>"Littl# Journeys," beginning with current num
bers, an^, al|;that shall be issued in future.
(4) Suth other books, pamphlets, addresses and doc-
liments as the Roycrofters may elect to send you
: :Eyery Littie While.
(5) Success, Health and Love Vibrations, sent daily
by the Pastor or Ali Baba.

%

r-;

ADDRESS THE BURSAR, EAST A

M

.NEW YORK

1

LITTLE JOURNEYS
, T p THE H 6 M E S O F J^l¦^ „
EMINENT ORATORS
By ELBERT HUBBARD
SUBJECTS AS FOLLOWS:
I Pericles 7 Marat
2 Mark Antony 8. Robert Ingersoll
3 Savonarola 9 Patrick Henry
4 Martin Luther 10 Thomas Starr King
5 Edmund Burke 11 Henry Ward Beecher
6 William Pitt 12 W^endell Phillips
One booklet a montii will be issued as usual, begin
ning on January ISti.
The LITTLE JOURNEYS for 1903 will be strictly
de luxe in form .and wSrl33^^y||i::The type will be a
new font of antique blackface ; the initials designed
especially for this work ; a frontispiece portrait from
the original drawing made.at our Shop. The booklets
will be stitched by hand with silk.
The price — 25 cents each, or $3.00 for the year.
Address THE ROYCROFTERS at their
Shop, which is at East Aurora, New York
Entered at the postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission
as second-class mail matter. Copyright, 1902, by Elbert Hubbard

ELBERT HUBBARD AND SONS, ELBERT AND SANFORD
The .quintessence of Hubbardism is found in a book called^:
CONTEMPLATIONS
Forty essays and about five hundrj^$ sayings; about life and
things. The price is Five Dollars. It will be Sent on suspicion.
THE ROYCROFTERS, EAST AURORA, NE^ YORK'

PHALANSTERIE

The word was first used by Fourier, and
means in effect "the home of friends." The
ROYCROFT PHALANSTERIE, with its new
_ addition, just completed, consists of a kitchen,
scientific ^nd modern in all of its appointments;.
a din,ing-room that seats a hundred peof)le;
thirty- eight sleeping rooms; reception rodmSjl
etc., etc. That is to say it is an INN — manage^
I somewhat like a Swiss Monastery, simple^ yel
complete in all of its appointments — where the
traveler is made welcome. There are always a
few visitors with us. Some remiiin simply for a
meal, other^ stay a day, or a week,, or a month.
A few avail themselves of the services of" our
Musical Director, the Physical Instructor, or
take lessons in drawing and painting. C. The
prices: Meals, such as they are, say twenty*^
five cents; lodging, fifty cents. East Aurora is
a village i8 miles south of Buffalo, and is
reached by the Penn'fi R. R. Trains leave Buf
falo from Central station at inconvenient times.
THE ROYGROFTERS
EAST AURORA, NEWYORK

¦i

¦,*'..,v , -'.

Some

Pamphlets

FO R S ALE!

'TpHE following
X Hubbard, in pa
LITTLE JOURNEYS, by Elbert
mphtet form (with portraits), issued
>: by G. P. Putnam's
Sons. The price is Ten Cents
each, or One Bryan
DoUat per dozen. Make your choice.
John Ruskin '.
Samuel Adams
J. M, W. Turner
John Hancock
:;
^Plsjonathan Swift
1 John Quincy Adams
't' Victor Hugo
Thomas Jefferson
W. M.»TC%kclceray
Daniel Wefcfeter
'i "'^Charles Dickens
Henry Clay
Mrs. Browning
John Jay
g'ij;* Ma&ameGiiyon
Wm. H. Seward
,,.,
'V Harriet Martineau
Michael Angelo
..j
; : 'Charlotte Bronte
Rembrandt
Christina Rossetti
'Rubens
: '/ Rosa'Bonheur
Meissonier
' Madame de Stael
Titian
Elizabeth Fry
¦ Anthony Van Dyck
Mary Lamb
Fortuny ,
Jane Austen
Ary Scheffer ¦
Mary Shelley
Jean Francois Millet
1
jfSf,;! George Washington Joshua Reynolds' ||
¦'-:
' Benjamin Franklin
Landseer 1
4
Alexander Hamilton Gustave Dore
THE R OY e R O F T E ^ S
EAST
AURORA, N. Y.
— ^,  ¦ ' ,:'  , ^
CUBS' FOOD
THEY TJIRIVE ON GRAPE-NUTS
Healthy babies don't cry, and the well-nourished
baby that is fed on Grape-Nuts, is never a crying
baby. Many babies who cannot take any other food,
relish the perfect food, Grape-Nuts, and get well.
, " My little baby was given up by three doctors who
said that the condensed milk>on which I had fed it had
ruined the child's stomach. One of the doctors told
me that the only thing to do would be to try. Grape-
Nuts, so I got some and prepared it as follows: I ,
soaked one and one-half tablespoonfuls in On^ pint of
cold water for half an hour, then I strained off^he
liquid and mixed tvtrelve tecispoonfuls of this strained
Grape-Nuts juice with six teaspoonfuls of rich milk,
put in a pinch of salt and ^ little sugar, warmed it and
gave it to the baby every two hours.
" In this simple, easy way I saved baby's life and
have built her up to a strong, healthy child, rosy and
laughing. The. food must certainly be 'perfect to have '
such a wonderful effect as this. I can truthfully say
I think it is the best food in the world to raise delicate
babies on, and is also a delicious, healthful food for
grown-ups, as we have discovered in our family."
Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich.
Grape-Nuts is equally valuable to the strong, healthy •
man or woman.
Grape-Nuts food stands for the true theory of health.
Look in each package for a copy of the famous little
book, " The Road to Wellville." ^

Starr King

ILittle Jm
pounneysj To tbe Hornet of|
EMINENT
lORATORSl I lUititten byElbeitt!
Hubbaitd A done]
into a Book by tbe
Roycitofteit$ at tl^e
$bop, lobicb is in
East JIuitopa, neto
YoPk,RD. id03

THE chief difference between a wise man and an ignorant one is,
not that the first is acquainted with regions invisible to the sec
ond, away from common sight and interest, but that he understands
the common things which the second only sees.
—SIGHT AND INSIGHT.

STARR KING

8g

F you had chanced to live in Boston in
the early Nineties, alert for all good
things in a mental and spiritual way,
you would have made the Sundays sa
cred to Minot Savage, Phillips Brooks
and Edward Everett Hale.
Emerson says that if you knovy a clergy
man's sect and behold his livery, in
spite of all his show of approaching the
subject without prejudice, you know be
forehand exactly to what conclusions he
will come. This is what robs most ser
mons of their interest. Preaching, like
humor, must have in it the element of
surprise. I remember with what a thrill
of delight I would sit and watch Minot
Savage unwind his logic and then gently
vi^eave it into a fabric. The man was not
afraid to follow a reason to its lair. He
had a way of saying the thing for the first
time — it came as a personal message,
contradicting, possibly, all that had been
said before on the subject, oblivious of
precedent. I once savr a man Tvith a line around his
v^aist leap from a stranded ship into the
sea, and strike out boldly for the shore.
The thrill of admiration for the act was
unforgetable.

go  STARR KING
The joy of beholding a strong and valiant thinker
plunge into a theme is an event. V^ill he make the
shore? or will he go down to defeat before these
thousands of spectators ?
\A^hen Minot Savage ceased to speak, you knew he
had won — he had brought the line safely to shore and
made all secure.
Or, if you have heard Rabbi Hirsch or Felix Adler, you
know the feeling. These men make a demand upon
you — you play out the line for them, and when all is
secure, there is a relief which shovtrs you have been
under an intense strain. To paraphrase Browning,
they offer no substitute, to an idle man, for a cushioned
chair and cigar.
Phillips Brooks made small demand upon his auditors..
If I heard Minot Savage in the morning and got vround
up tight, as I always did, I went to Vespers at Trin
ity Church for rest.
The soft, sweet playing of the organ, the subdued
lights, the far-away voices of the choir, and finally the
earnest words of the speaker, vtrorked a psychic spell.
The sermon began nowhere and ended nowhere — the
speaker was a great, gentle personality, with a heart
of love for everybody and everything. We have heard
of the old lady v^ho would go miles to hear her pastor
pronounce the word Mesopotamia, but he put no more
soul into it than did Phillips Brooks. The service was
all a sort of lullaby for tired souls — healing and helpful.
<5 But as after every indulgence there comes a minor

STARR KING  91
strain of dissatisfaction foUovtring the awakening, so it
was here — it was beautiful while it lasted. Then eight
o'clock would come and I would be at Edward Ever
ett Hale's. This sturdy old man v^ith his towering
form, rugged face and echoing bass voice, would open
up the stops and give his blessed " Mesopotamia " like
a trumpet-call. He never Tvorked the soft pedal. His
first words al'ways made me think of " Boots and Sad
dles ! " Be a man — do something. Why stand ye here
all the day idle !
And there vras love and entreaty, too, but it never
lulled you into forgetfulness. There was intellect, but
it did not ask you to follow it. The dear old man did
not wind in and out among the sinuosities of thought
— no, he was right out on the broad prairie, under the
open sky, sounding << Boots and Saddles ! "
In Dr. Hale's church is a most beautiful memorial
"window to Thomas Starr King, who was at one time
the pastor of this church. I remember Dr. Hale once
rose and pointing to that vrindow, said, " That window
is in memory of a man ! But how vain a window, how
absurd a monument if the man had not left his impress
upon the hearts of humanity ! That beautiful window
only mirrors our memories of the individual."
And then Dr. Hale talked, just talked for an hour
about Starr King.
Dr. Hale has given that same talk or sermon every
year for thirty years : I have heard it three times, but
never twice exactly alike. I have tried to get a printed

92  STARR KING
copy of the address, but have so far failed. Yet this is
sure: you cannot hear Dr. Hale tell of Starr King
without a feeling that King was a most royal speci
men of humanity, and a wish down deep in your
heart that you, too, might reflect some of the sterling
virtues that he possessed.
STARR KING died in California in 1864. In Golden
Gate Park, San Francisco, is his statue in bronze.
In the First Unitarian Church of San Francisco
is a tablet to his memory ; in the Unitarian Church at
Oakland are many loving tokens to his personality;
and in the State House at Sacramento is his portrait
and an engrossed copy of resolutions passed by the
Legislature at the time of his death, wherein he is re
ferred to as "the man whose matchless oratory saved
California to the Union."
" Who was Starr King ? " I once asked Dr. Charles H.
Leonard of Tufts College. And the saintly old man
lifted his eyes as if in prayer of thankfulness and an
swered, <' Starr King! Starr King I He was the gentlest
and strongest, the most gifted soul I ever kne^v — I
bless God that I lived just to know Starr King! "
Not long after this I asked the same question of Dr. C.
A. Bartol that I had asked Dr. Leonard, and the reply
was, "He was a man who proved the possible — in
point of temper and talent, the most virile personality
that New England has produced. W^e call Webster

STARR KING  93
our greatest orator, but this man surpassed \Vebster :
he had a smile that vtras a benediction ; a voice that
was a caress. We admired ^Vebster, but Starr King
we loved : one convinced our reason, the other cap
tured our hearts."

THE Oriental custom of presenting a thing to the
friend who admires it, symbols a very great
truth. If you love a thing well enough, you
make it yours if if
Culture is a matter of desire ; knowledge is to be had
for the asking ; and education is yours if you want it.
All men should have a college education in order that
they may know its worthlessness. George ^Villiam
Curtis Avas a very prince of gentlemen, and as an ora
tor he won by his manner and by his gentle voice fully
as much as by the orderly procession of his thoughts.
C5"0, what is it in me that makes me tremble so at
voices ! ^Vhoever speaks to me in the right voice, him
or her will I follow," says W^alt Whitman.
If you have ever loved a woman and you care to go
back to May-time and try to analyze the why and the
wherefore, you probably will not be able to locate the
why and the wherefore, but this negative truth you
will discover : you were not won by logic. Of course
you admired the woman's intellect — it sort of matched
your own, and in loving her you complimented your
self, for thus by love and admiration do we prove our

94  STARR KING
kinship with the thing loved. C( But intellect alone is
too cold to fuse the heart. Something else is required,
and for lack of a better word we call it "personality."
This glowing, winning personality that inspires confi
dence and trust is a bouquet of virtues, the chief flower
of which is Right Intent — honesty may be a bit old-
fashioned, but do not try to leave it out.
George ^Villiam Curtis and Starr King had a frank,
wide-open, genuine quality that disarmed prejudice
right at the start. And both were big enough so that
they never bemoaned the fact that Fate had sent them
to the University of Hard Knocks instead of matricu
lating them at Harvard.
I once heard George ^Villiam Curtis speak at St. James
Hall, Buffalo, on Civil Service Reform — a most appal
ling subject with which to hold a " popular audience."
He was introduced by the Hon. Sherman S. Rogers, a
man who was known for ten miles up the creek as the
greatest orator in Erie County. After the speech of
introduction, Curtis stepped to the front, laid on the
reading-desk a bundle of manuscript, turned one page,
and began to talk. He talked for two hours, and never
once again referred to his manuscript — we thought he
had forgotten it. He himself tells some\vhere of Ed-
v^ard Everett doing the same. It is fine to have a
thing and still show that you do not need it. The style
of Curtis was in such marked contrast to the blue-
grass article represented by Rogers, that it seemed a
rebuke. One was florid, declamatory, strong, full of

STARR KING  95
reasons : the other was keyed low — it was so melodi
ous, so gently persuasive that we were thrown off our
guard and did n't knovr v^e had imbibed rank heresy
until we were told so the next day by a man who was
not there. As the speaker closed, an old lady seated
near me, sighed softly, adjusted her paisley shawl and
said, "That was the finest address I ever heard, ex
cepting one given in this very hall in 1859 by Starr
King." if if
And I said, "W^ell, a speech that you can remember
for twenty-five years must have been a good one!"
C5"It wasn't the address so much as the man," an
swered this mother in Israel, and she heaved another
small sigh. Of And therein did the good old lady drop a
confession. I doubt me much whether any woman
will remember any speech for a week — she just re
members the man.
And this applies pretty nearly as much to men, too. Is
there sex in spirit ? Hardly. Thoreau says the character
of Jesus was essentially feminine. Herbert Spencer
avers, " The high intuitive quality which we call genius
is largely feminine in character." " Starr King was the
child of his mother, and his best qualities were femi
nine," said the Rev. E. H. Chapin.

\Vhen Starr King's father died the boy was fifteen.
There were five younger children and Starr was made
man of the house by Destiny's acclaim. Responsibility
ripens. This slim, slender youth became a man in a

96  STARR KING
day. QThe father had been the pastor of the Charles-
town Universalist Church. I suppose it is hardly nec
essary to take a page and prove that this clergyman in
an unpopular church did not leave a large fortune to
his family. In truth, he left a legacy of debts. Starr
King, the boy of fifteen, left school and became clerk
in a dry goods store. The mother cared for her house
hold and took in sewing.
Joshua Bates, master of the W^inthrop school, de
scribes Starr King as he was when the father's death
cut off his school days : " Slight of build, golden haired,
active, agile, with a homely face which everybody
thought was handsome on account of the beaming
eyes, the winning smile and the earnest desire of al
ways wanting to do what was best and right."
This kind of a boy gets along all right anywhere — God
is on his side. The hours in the dry goods store were
long, and on Saturday nights it was nearly midnight
before Starr would reach home. But there was a light
in the window for him, even if vtrhale oil wras scarce ;
and the mother was at her sewing. Together they ate
their midnight lunch, and counted the earnings of the
week if if
And the surprise of both that they were getting a liv
ing and paying off the debts sort of cleared the atmos
phere of its gloom.
In Burke's "Essay on the Sublime," he speaks of the
quiet joy that comes through calamity when we dis
cover that the calamity has not really touched us. The

STARR KING  97
death of a father who leaves a penniless widow and a
hungry brood, comes at first as a shock — the heavens
are darkened and hope has fled.
I know a man who was in a railroad wreck — the
sleeping-car in which he rode left the track and rolled
down an embankment. There was a black interval of
horror, and then this man found himself, clad in his
under-clothes, standing on the upturned car, looking
up at the Pleiades and this thought in his mind, " W^hat
beauty and peace are in these winter heavens!" The
calamity had come — he was absolutely untouched — he
was locating the constellations and surprised and
happy in his ability to enjoy them.
Starr King and his mother sipped their midnight tea
and grew jolly over the thought of their comfortable
home ; they were clothed and fed, the children well
and sleeping soundly in baby abandon up-stairs, the
debts were being paid. They laughed, did this mother
and son, really laughed aloud, when only a month be
fore they had thought that only gloom and misery
could ever again be theirs.
They laughed !
And soon the young man's salary was increased —
people liked to trade with him — customers came and
asked that he might wait on them. He sold more goods
than any one in his department, and yet he never
talked things onto people. He was alert, affable, kindly,
and anticipated the wishes and wants of his customers
without being subservient, fawning or domineering.

98  STARR KING
({This kind of a helper is needed everywhere — the one
who gives a willing hand, who puts soul into his ser
vice, who brings a glow of good-cheer into all of his
relations with men.
The doing things with a hearty enthusiasm is often
w^hat makes the doer a marked person and his deeds
effective. The most ordinary service is dignified when
it is performed in that spirit. Every employer wants
those who work for him to put heart and mind into the
toil. He soon picks out those v^hose souls are in their
service, and gives them evidence of his appreciation.
They do not need constant watching. He can trust
them in his absence, and so the places of honor and
profit naturally gravitate to them.
The years went by, and one fine day Starr King was
twenty years of age. All of the debts were paid, the
children were going to school, and mother and son
faced the world from the vantage ground of success.
Starr had quit the dry goods trade and gone to teach
ing school on less salary, so as to get more leisure for
study »r -ff
Incidentally he kept books at the Navy Yard.
About this time Theodore Parker wrote to a friend in
Maiden, " I cannot come to preach for you as I would
like, but with your permission I will send Thomas
Starr King. This young man is not a regularly ordained
preacher, but he has the grace of God in his heart, and
the gift of tongues. He is a rare sweet spirit, and I
know that after you have met him you will thank me

STARR KING  99
for sending him to you." ({Then soon we hear of
Starr King's being invited to Medford to give a Fourth
of July oration, and also of his speaking in the Uni
versalist churches at Cambridge, 'Waltham, Water-
town, Hingham and Salem — sent to these places by
Dr. E. H. Chapin, pastor of the Charlestown Univer
salist Church, and successor to the Rev. Thomas F.
King, father of Starr King.
Starr seems to have served as sort of an assistant to
Chapin, and thereby revealed his talent and won the
heart of the great man. Edwin Hubbell Chapin was
only ten years older than Starr King, and at that time
had not really discovered himself, but in discovering
another he found himself. Twenty years later Beecher
and Chapin were to rival each other for first place as
America's greatest pulpit orator. These men were al
ways fast friends, yet when they met at convention or
conference folks came for miles to see the fire fly.
" W^here are you going?" once asked Beecher of
Chapin when they met by chance on Broadway.
"Where am I going?" repeated Chapin, "why, if
you are right in what you preach, you know where I
am going." But only a few years were to pass before
Chapin said in public in Beecher's presence, "I am
jealous of Mr. Beecher — he preaches a better Univer
salist sermon than I can." Chapin made his mark upon
the time : his sermons read as though they were written
yesterday, and carry with them a deal of the swing
and onward sweep that are usually lost when the

100  STARR KING
orator attempts to write. But if Chapin had done noth
ing else but discover Starr King, the dry goods clerk,
rescue him from the clutch of commerce and back him
on the orator's platform, he deserves the gratitude of
generations. And all this I say as a business man who
fully recognizes that commerce is just as honorable
and a deal more necessary than oratory. But there
were other men to sell thread and calico, and God had
special work for Thomas Starr King.
Chapin was a graduate of Bennington Seminary, the
school that also graduated the father of Robert Inger
soll. On Chapin's request Theodore Parker, himself a
Harvard man, sent Starr King over to Cambridge to
preach. Boston was a college town — filled with college
traditions, and v^hen one thinks of sending out this
untaught stripling to address college men, we cannot
but admire the temerity of both Chapin and Parker.
"He has never attended a Divinity School," writes
Chapin to Deacon Obadiah B. Queer of Quincy, "but
he is educated just the same. He speaks Greek, He
brew, French, German, and fairly good English, as
you will see. He knows natural history and he knows
humanity; and if one knows man and Nature, he
comes pretty close to knowing God."
\Vhere did this dry goods clerk get his education ? Ah,
I '11 tell you — he got his education as the lion's whelp
gets his. The lioness does not send her cubs away to a
lioness that has no cubs in order that he may be
taught. The lion-nature gets what it needs with its

STARR KING  loi
mother's milk and by doing. (( Schools and colleges
are cumbrous make-shifts, often forcing truth on pu
pils out of season, and thus making lessons grievous.
"The soul knows all things," says Emerson, "and
knowledge is only a remembering." "W^hen the time
is ripe, men know," wrote Hegel. At the last we can
not teach anything — nothing is imparted. W^e cannot
make the plants and flowers grov7 — all we can do is
to supply the conditions, and God does the rest. In
education we can only supply the conditions for growth
— we cannot impart, nor force the germs to unfold.
(( Starr King's mother was his teacher. Together they
read good books, and discussed great themes. She read
for him and he studied for her. She did not treat him
as a child — things that interested her she told to him.
The sunshine of her soul was reflected upon his, and
thus did he grow. I knowr a \voman whose children
will be learned, even though they never enter a school
room. This woman is a companion to her children and
her mind vitalizes theirs. This does not mean that we
should at once do away with schools and colleges, but
it does reveal the possible. To read and then discuss
with a strong and sympathetic intellect what you read
is to make the thought your own — it is a form of ex
ercise that brings growth.
Starr King's mother was not a wonderful nor famous
person — I find no mention of her in Society's Doings
of the day — nothing of her dress or equipage. If she
was "superbly gowned," we do not know it; if she

102  STARR KING
was ever one of the " unbonneted," history is silent.
All we know is, that together they read Bullfinch's
Mythology, Grote's History of Greece, Plutarch,
Dante and Shakespeare. ^Ve know that she placed a
light in the v^indow for him to make his home-coming
cheerful, that together they sipped their midnight tea,
that together they laughed, and sometimes wept — ^but
not for long.

IN 1846 Chapin was thirty-two years old. Starr King
was twenty-tv^o. A call had reached Chapin to
come up higher ; but he refused to leave the old
church at Charlestown unless Starr King was to suc
ceed him. To place a young man in the position of
pastor where he has sat in the pews, his feet not
reaching the floor, is most trying. Starr King knew
every individual man, woman and child in the church,
and they had known him since babyhood. In appear
ance he was but a boy, and the dignity that is sup
posed to send conviction home was entirely wanting.
(| But Chapin had his way and the boy was duly or
dained and installed as pastor of the First Universalist
Church of Charlestown.
The new pastor fully expected his congregation to
give him " absent treatment," but instead, the audi
ence grew — folks even came over from Boston to hear
the boy preacher. His sermons were carefully written,
and dealt in the simple, everyday lessons of life. To

STARR KING  los
Starr King this world is paradise enow; it 's the best
place of which we know, and the way for man to help
himself is to try and make it a better place. There is
a flavor of Theodore Parker in those early sermons, a
trace of Thoreau and much tincture of Emerson — and
all this was to the credit of the boy preacher. His
woman's mind absorbed things.
About that time Boston was in very fact the intellec
tual hub of America. Emerson was forty-three, his
"Nature" had been published anonymously, and al
though it took eight years to sell this edition of five
hundred copies, the author was in demand as a lec
turer, and in some places society conceded him re
spectable. Wendell Phillips was addressing audiences
that alternately applauded and jeered. Thoreau had
discovered the Merrimac & explored Walden ^Voods ;
little Dr. Holmes was peregrinating in his One Hoss
Shay, vouchsafing the confidences of his boarding
house; Lowell was beginning to violate the rules of
rhetoric; W^hittier was making his plea for the runa
way slave; and throughout New England the Lecture
Lyceum was feeling its way.
A lecture course was then no vaudeville — five con
certs and two lectures to take off the curse— not that f
The speakers supplied strong meat for men. The stars
in the lyceum sky were Emerson, Chapin, Beecher,
Holmes, Bartol, Phillips, Ballou, Everett, and Lowell.
These men made the New England Lyceum a vast
pulpit of free speech and advanced thought. And to a

104  STARR KING
degree the Lyceum made these men vrhat they were.
They influenced the times and were influenced by the
times. They were in competition with each other. A
pace had been set, a record made, and the audiences
that gathered expected much. An audience gets just
what it deserves and no more. If you have listened to
a poor speech, blame yourself.
In the life of George Francis Train, he tells that in
1840 Emerson spoke in ^Valtham for five dollars and
four quarts of oats for his horse — novir he received
twenty-five dollars. Chapin got the same, and when
the Committee could not afford this, he referred them
to Starr King, who would lecture for five dollars and
supply his own horse-feed.
Two years went by and calls came for Starr King to
come up higher. W^orcester would double his salary
if he would take a year's course at the Harvard Divin
ity school. Starr showed the letter to Chapin, and both
laughed. Worcester was satisfied with Starr King as
he was, but what would Springfield say if they called
a man who had no theological training ? And then it
was that Chapin said, " Divinity is not taught in the
Harvard Divinity School," which sounds like a para
phrase of Ernest Renan's, " You will find God any-
v^here but in a theological seminary."
King declined the call to 'Worcester, but barkened to
one from the Hollis Street Church of Boston. He went
over from Universalism to Unitarianism and still re
mained a Universalist — and this created quite a dust

STARR KING  105
among the theologs. Little men love their denomi
nation with a jealous love — truth is secondary — they
see microscopic difference where big men behold only
unity if if
It was about this time that Starr King pronounced this
classic: "The difference between Universalism and
Unitarianism is that Universalists believe that God is
too good to damn them ; and the Unitarians believe
that they are too good to be damned."
At the Hollis Street Church this stripling of twenty-
four now found himself being compared with the fore
most preachers of America. And the man grew with
his work, rising to the level of events. It was at the
grave of Oliver Wendell Holmes that Edward Ever
ett Hale said : " The five men who have influenced the
literary and intellectual thought of America most, be
lieved in their own divinity no less than in the divin
ity of Jesus of Nazareth."
The destiny of the liberal church is not to become
strong and powerful, but to make all other denomina
tions more liberal. When Chapin accused Beecher of
preaching Universalist sermons, it was a home thrust,
because Beecher would never have preached such
sermons had not Murray, Ballou, Theodore Parker,
Chapin, and Starr King done so first — and Beecher
supplied the goods called for.
Starr King's voice was deep, melodious and far-reach
ing, and it was not an acquired " Bishop's voice " — it
was his own. The biggest basso I ever heard was just

io6  STARR KING
five feet high and weighed one hundred and twenty in
his stockings ; Brignoli, the tenor, v^eighed two hun
dred and forty. Avoirdupois as a rule lessens the vol
ume of the voice and heightens the register — you can't
have both adipose and chest tone. 'Webster and Starr
King had voices very much alike, and Webster, by
the way, was n't the big man physically that the school
readers proclaim. It was his gigantic head and the
royal way he carried himself that made the Liverpool
stevedores say, "There goes the King of America."
Q, There was no pomposity about Starr King. Dr. Bar
tol has said that when King lectured in a new town
his homely, boyish face always caused a small spasm
of disappointment, or merriment, to sweep over the
audience. But when he spoke he was a transformed
being, and his deep, mellow voice would hush the
most inveterate whisperers.
For eleven years Starr King remained pastor of the
Hollis Street Church. During the last years of his pas
torate he was much in demand as a lecturer, and his
voice was heard in all the principal cities as far west
as Chicago <if if
His lecture, " Substance and Show," deserves to rank
with 'Wendell Phillips' "The Lost Arts." In truth it
is very much like Phillips' lecture. In "The Lost
Arts" Phillips tells in easy conversational way of the
wonderful things that once existed; and Starr King
relates in the same manner the story of some of the
wonderful things that are right here and all around us.

STARR KING  107
It reveals the mind of the man, his manner and thought,
as well as any of his productions. The great speech is
an evolution, and this lecture, given many times in
the Eastern States under various titles, did not touch
really high-Tvater mark until King reached California
and had cut loose from manuscript and tradition. An
extract seems in order :
Most persons, doubtless, if you place before them a
paving-stone and a slip of paper with some writing on
it, would not hesitate to say that there is as much
more substance in the rock than in the paper as there
is heaviness. Yet they might make a great mistake.
Suppose that the slip of paper contains the sentence,
" God is love " ; or, " Thou shalt love thy neighbor as
thyself"; or, "All men have moral rights by reason
of heavenly parentage," then the paper represents
more force and substance than the stone. Heaven and
earth may pass av^ay, but such words can never die
out or become less real.
The word " substance " means that which stands un
der and supports anything else. 'Whatever then cre
ates, upholds, classifies anything which our senses
behold, though we cannot handle, see, taste, or smell
it, is more substantial than the object itself. In this
way the soul which vivifies, moves, and supports the
body, is a more potent substance than the hard bones
and heavy flesh which it vitalizes. A ten-pound weight
falling on your head affects you unpleasantly as sub
stance, much more so than a leaf of the New Testa
ment, if dropped in the same direction ; but there is a
way in which a page of the New Testament may fall
upon a nation and split it, or infuse itself into its bulk
and give it strength and permanence. V/e should be

io8  STARR KING
careful, therefore, what test we adopt in order to de
cide the relative stability of things.
There is a very general tendency to deny that ideal
forces have any practical power. But there have been
several thinkers whose scepticism has an opposite
direction. " We cannot," they say, " attribute external
reality to the sensations v^e feel." We need not v^on-
der that this theory has failed to convince the unmet-
aphysical common sense of people that a stone post is
merely a stubborn thought, and that the bite of a dog
is nothing but an acquaintance with a pugnacious,
four-footed conception. When a man falls down stairs
it is not easy to convince him that his thought simply
tumbles along an inclined series of perceptions and
comes to a conclusion that breaks his head ; least of
all, can you induce a man to believe that the scolding
of his wife is nothing but the buzzing of his own wasp
ish thoughts, and her too free use of his purse only the
loss of some golden fancies from his memory. We are
all safe against such idealism as Bishop Berkeley rea
soned out so logically. Byron's refutation ofit is neat
and witty :
When Bishop Berkeley says there is no matter,
It is no matter what Bishop Berkeley says.
And yet, by more satisfactory evidence than that which
the idealists propose, we are warned against confound
ing the conception of substance with matter, and con
fining it to things we can see and grasp. Science steps
in and shows us that the physical system of things
leans on spirit. W^e talk of the world of matter, but
there is no such world. Everything about us is a mix
ture or marriage of matter and spirit. A world of mat
ter — there v^ould be no motion, no force, no form, no
order, no beauty, in the universe as it now is ; organ
ization meets us at every step and wherever we look ;

STARR KING  109
organization implies spirit, — something that rules, dis
poses, penetrates and vivifies matter.
See what a sermon astronomy preaches as to the sub
stantial powrer of invisible things. If the visible universe
is so stupendous, what shall we think of the unseen
force and vitality in whose arms all its splendors
rest? It is no gigantic Atlas, as the Greeks fancied,
that upholds the celestial sphere; all the constella
tions are kept from falling by an impalpable energy
that uses no muscles and no masonry. The ancient
mathematician, Archimedes, once said, "Give me a
foot of ground outside the globe to stand upon, and I
will make a lever that will lift the world." "The invisi
ble lever of gravitation, however, without any fulcrum
or purchase, does lift the globe, and makes it waltz,
too, with its blonde lunar partner, twelve hundred
miles a minute to the music of the sun, — ay, and heaves
sun and systems and Milky 'Way in majestic cotillions
on its ethereal floor.
You grasp an iron ball, and call it hard ; it is not the
iron that is hard, but cohesive force that packs the
particles of metal into intense sociability. Let the force
abate, and the same metal becomes like mush ; let it
disappear, and the ball is a heap of powder which
your breath scatters in the air. If the cohesive energy
in nature should get tired and unclench its grasp of
matter, our earth would instantly become "a great
slump"; so that which we tread on is not material
substance, but matter braced up by a spiritual sub
stance, for which it serves as the form and show.
All the peculiarities of rock and glass, diamond, ice
and crystal, are due to the working of unseen military
forces that employ themselves under ground, — in cav
erns, beneath rivers, in mountain crypts, and through
the coldest nights, drilling companies of atoms into

110  STARR KING
crystalline battalions and squares, and every caprice
of a fantastic order.
TA^hen we turn to the vegetable kingdom, is not the
revelation still more wonderful ? The forms which we
see grow out of substances and are supported by forces
which we do not see. The stuff out of which all vege
table appearances are made is reducible to oxygen,
hydrogen, carbon and nitrogen. How does it happen
that this common stock is worked up in such different
ways ? Why is a lily woven out of it in one place and
a dahlia in another, a grape-vine here, and a honey
suckle there, — the orange in Italy, the palm in Egypt,
the olive in Greece, and the pine in Maine? Simply
because a subtile force of a peculiar kind is at work
wherever any vegetable structure adorns the ground,
and takes to itself its favorite robe. 'We have outgrown
the charming fancy of the Greeks that every tree has
its Dryad that lives in it, animates it, and dies when
the tree withers. But v^e ought, for the truth's sake,
to believe that a life-spirit inhabits every flower and
shrub, and protects it against the prowling forces of
destruction. Look at a full-sized oak, the rooted Levi
athan of the fields. Judging by your senses and by the
scales, you would say that the substance of the noble
tree was its bulk of bark and bough and branch and
leaves and sap, the cords of woody and moist matter
that compose it and make it heavy. But really its sub
stance is that virhich makes it an oak, that vtrhich weaves
its bark and glues it to the stem, and wraps its rings
of fresh wood around the trunk every year, and pushes
out its boughs and clothes its twigs with breathing
leaves and sucks up nutriment from the soil continu
ally, and makes the roots clench the ground with their
fibrous fingers as a purchase against the storm, and at
last holds aloft its tons of matter against the constant

STARR KING  iif
tug and wrath of gravitation, and swings its Briarean
arms in triumph, in defiance of the gale. V/ere it not
for this energetic essence that crouches in the acorn
and stretches its limbs every year, there would be no
oak; the matter that clothes it would enjoy its stupid
slumber; and w^hen the forest monarch stands up in
his sinewy lordliest pride, let the pervading life-power,
and its vassal forces that weigh nothing at all, be an
nihilated, and the whole structure would wither in a
second to inorganic dust. So every gigantic fact in na
ture is the index and vesture of a gigantic force.
Everything which we call organization that spots the
landscape of nature is a revelation of secret force that
has been wedded to matter, and if the spiritual powers
that have thus domesticated themselves around us
should be cancelled, the whole planet would be a huge
Desert of Sahara, — a bleak sand-ball without shrub,
grass-blade, or moss.
As we rise in the scale of forces towards greater sub-
tility the forces become more important and efficient.
Water is more intimately concerned with life than
rock, air higher in the rank of service than water,
electric and magnetic agencies more powerful than
air: and light, the most delicate, is the supreme magi
cian of all. Just think how much expenditure of me
chanical strength is necessary to water a city in the
hot summer months. 'What pumping and tugging and
wearisome trudging of horses with the great sprinklers.
over the tedious pavement ! But see by what beautiful
and noiseless force nature waters the world ! The sun
looks steadily on the ocean, and its beams lift lakes of
water into the air, tossing it up thousands of feet with
their delicate fingers, and carefully picking every grain
of salt from it before they let it go. No granite reser
voirs are needed to hold in the Cochituates and Cro-

112  STARR KING
tons of the atmosphere, but the soft outlines of the
clouds hem in the vast vreight of the upper tides that
are to cool the globe, and the winds harness themselves
as steeds to the silken caldrons and hurry them along
through space, while they disburse their rivers of
moisture from their great height so lightly that seldom
a violet is crushed by the rudeness with which the
stream descends.
Our conceptions of strength and endurance are so as
sociated with visible implements and mechanical ar
rangements that it is hard to divorce them, and yet the
stream of electric fire that splits an ash is not a pon
derable thing, and the v^ay in v^hich the loadstone
reaches the ten-pound weight and makes it jump is not
perceptible. You would think the man had pretty good
molars that should gnaw a spike like a stick of candy,
but a bottle of innocent-looking hydrogen gas will
chevtr up a piece of bar-iron as though it were some
favorite Cavendish.
The prominent lesson of science to men, therefore, is
faith in the intangible and invisible. Shall we talk of
matter as the great reality of the world, the prominent
substance ? It is nothing but the battle-ground of ter
rific forces. Every particle of matter, the chemists tell
us, is strained up to its last degree of endurance. The
glistening bead of dew from which the daisy gently
nurses its strength, and which a sunbeam may dissi
pate, is the globular compromise of antagonistic powers
that would shake this building in their unchained rage.
And so every atom of matter is the slave of imperious
masters that never let it alone. It is nursed and ca
ressed, next bandied about, and soon cuffed and kicked
by its invisible overseers. Poor atoms! no abolition
societies will ever free them from their bondage, no
colonization movement waft them to any physical

STARR KING  113
Liberia. For every particle of matter is. bound by eter
nal fealty to some spiritual lords, to be pinched by
one and squeezed by another and torn asunder by a
third ; now to be painted by this and now blistered by
that ; nov7 tormented with heat and soon chilled with
cold ; hurried from the Arctic Circle to sweat at the
Equator, and then sent on an errand to the Southern
Pole ; forced through transmigrations of fish, fowl and
flesh ; and, if in some corner of creation the poor thing
finds leisure to die, searched out and whipped to life
again and kept in its constant round.
Thus the stuff that we weigh, handle and tread upon
is only the show of invisible substances, the facts over
which subtle and mighty forces rule.

STARR KING was that kind of a plant which needs
to be repotted in order to make it flower at its
best. Events kept tugging to loosen his tendrils
from his early environments. People who live on Bos
ton Bay like to remain there. We have all heard of the
good woman who died and vrent to Heaven, and after
a short sojourn there was asked how she liked it, and
she sighed and said, " Ah, yes, it is very beautiful, but
it is n't East Somerville ! "
Had Starr King consented to remain in Boston he
might have held his charge against the ravages of
time, secreted a curate, taken on a becoming buffer of
adipose, and glided off by irnperceptible degrees on to
the Superannuated List.
But early in that historic month of April, i860, he set

114  STARR KING
sail for California, having accepted a call from the
First Unitarian Church of San Francisco. This was
his first trip to the Pacific Coast, but New England
people had preceded him, and not being able to return,
they wanted Boston to come to them. The journey
v^ras made by the way of Panama, without any special
event. The pilot who met the ship outside of Golden
Gate bore them the first news that Sumter had been
fired upon, and the bombardment was at the time
when the ship that bore Starr King was only a few
miles from South Carolina's coast.
^Vith prophetic vision Starr King saw the struggle
that was to come, and the words of 'Webster, uttered
many years before, rushed to his lips :
'When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last
time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on
the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glori
ous Union ; on States dissevered, discordant, belliger
ent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it
may be, in fraternal blood! Let their last feeble and
lingering glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of
the republic now known and honored throughout the
earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies
streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased
nor polluted, nor a single star obscured, bearing for its
motto no such miserable interrogatory as " What is
all this worth?" nor those other words of delusion
and folly, "Liberty first and Union afterwards"; but
everywhere, spread over all in characters of living
light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over
the sea and over the land, and in every wind under

STARR KING  115
the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every
true American heart — Liberty and Union, now and
forever, one and inseparable !
The landing was made on Saturday, and the following
day Starr King spoke for the first time in California.
An hour before the service was to begin, the church
was wedged tight. The preacher had much difficulty
in making his way through the dense mass of humanity
to reach the pulpit. "Is that the man?" went up the
smothered exclamation, as Starr King reached the
platform and faced his audience. His slight, slender
figure and boyish face were plainly a disappointment,
but this was not to last. The preacher had prepared a
sermon — such a sermon as he had given many times
to well-dressed, orderly and cultured Boston.
And if this California audience was surprised, the
speaker also was no less. The men to w^omen were as
seven to one. He saw before him a sea of bronzed and
bearded faces, earnest, attentive and hungry for truth.
There were occasional marks of dissipation and the
riot of the senses, softened by excess into penitence —
whipped out and homesick. Here were miners in red
flannel shirts, sailors, soldiers in uniform and soldiers
of fortune. The preacher looked at the motley mass in
a vain attempt to pick out his old friends from New
England. The genteel, slightly blase quality of culture
that leans back in its cushioned pew and courteously
waits to be instructed, was not there. These people
did not lean back, they leaned forward, and with parted.

ii6  STARR KING
lips they listened for every word. There was no choir,
and when "an old familiar hymn" was lined off by a
volunteer who knew his business, that audience arose
and sang as tho it would shake the rafters of heaven.
({ Those who go down to the sea in ships, sing ; shep
herds who tend their flocks by night, sing; men in the
forest or those vvho follows the trackless plains, sing.
Congregational singing is most popular among those
who live far apart — to get together and sing is a solace.
Loneliness, separation and heart hunger all drive men
into song if if
These men, many of them far from home, lifted up
their voices, and the sounds surged through that church
and echoed, surged again and caught even the preacher
in their v^inding waves. He started in to give one ser
mon and gave another. The audience, the time, the
place, acted upon him.
Oratory is essentially a pioneer product, a rustic ar
ticle. Great sermons and great speeches are only given
to people who have come from afar.
Starr King forgot his manuscript and pulpit manners.
His deep voice throbbed and pulsed with emotion,
and the tensity of the times was upon him. W^ithout
once referring directly to Sumter, his address was a
call to arms if if
He spoke for an hour, and when he sat dov^n he knew
that he had won. The next Sunday the place was again
packed, and then followed urgent invitations that he
should speak during the week in a larger hall.

STA^RR KING  117
California Tvas trembling in the balances, and orators
were not wanting to give outfthe arguments of Cal
houn. They showed that the right of secession was
plainly provided for in the Constitution. Lincoln's call
for troops was coldly received, and from several San
Francisco pulpits orthodox clergymen were express
ing deep regret that the President was plunging the
country into civil vsrar.
The heart of Starr King burned with shame — to him
there wras but one side to this question — the Union
must be preserved.
One man who had known King in Massachusetts wrote
back home saying, " You would not know Starr King —
he is not the orderly man of genteel culture you once
had in Boston. He is a torrent of eloquence, so heart
felt, so convincing, so povverful, that when he speaks
on Sunday afternoon out on the sand-hills, he excites
the multitude into a whirlwind of applause, with a
basso undertone of dissent which, however, seems to
grow gradually less."
Loyalty to the Union was to him the one vital issue.
His fight was not with individuals — he made no per
sonal issues. And in several joint debates his courteous
treatment of his adversary won converts for his cause.
He took pains to say that personally he had only
friendship and pity for the individuals who upheld se
cession and slavery — "The man in the wrong needs
friends as never before, since he has ceased to be his
own. Do we blame a blind man whom we see rushing

ii8  STARR KING
towards a precipice?" C[From that first Sunday he
preached in San Francisco, his life was an ovation
wherever he went. Wherever he v/as advertised to
speak, multitudes vtrere there to hang upon his words.
He spoke in all the principal towns of California ; and
often on the plains, in the mountains, or by the sea
shore, men would gather from hundreds of miles to
hear him ^ ^
He gave himself, and before he had been in California
a year, the state was safe for the Union, and men and
treasure were being sent to Lincoln's aid. The fame
of Starr King reached the President, and he found time
to write several letters to the orator, thanking him for
vrhat he had done. It Avas in one of these letters that
Lincoln wrote, "The only sermons I have ever been
able to read and enjoy are those of John Murray," — a
statement vvhich some have attempted to smile away
as showing the Rail-splitter's astute diplomacy.
Starr King gave his life to the Cause. He as much died
for the Union as though he had fallen stricken by fly
ing lead upon the field. And he knew what he was do
ing, but in answer to his warning friends he said, "I
have only one life to live and now is my time to spend
it." ({For four years, lacking two months, he spoke
and preached several times every ^veek. All he made
and all he was he freely gave.
For that frail frame this life of intensity had but one
end -tr sir
The Emancipation Proclamation had been issued, but

STARR KING  119
Lee's surrender was yet to be. "May I live to see
unity and peace for my country," was his prayer.
Starr King died March 4th, 1864, aged forty years. The
closing words of his lecture on Socrates might well
be applied to himself:
Down the river of Life, by its Athenian banks, he had
floated upon his raft of reason serene, in cloudy as in
smiling weather. And now the night is rushing down,
and he has reached the mouth of the stream, and the
great ocean is before him, dim heaving in the dusk.
But he betrays no fear. There is land ahead, he
thought; eternal continents there are, that rise in
constant light beyond the gloom. He trusted still in
the raft his soul had built, and with a brave farewell
to the true friends who stood by him on the shore, he
put out into the darkness, a moral Columbus, trusting
in his haven on the faith of an idea.

HERE ENDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME
OF STARR KING, AS WRITTEN BY ELBERT HUBBARD.
BORDERS, INITIALS AND ORNAMENTS DESIGNED BY
ROYCROFT ARTISTS, PRESSWORK BY LOUIS SCHELL,
& THE WHOLE DONE INTO A BOOK BY THE ROYCROFT
ERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, IN
THE MONTH OF OCTOBER, IN THE YEAR MCMIII * * 0

• ANDIRONS
Hand-Made Roycroftie, Thirty- Two Inches High.
Thirty-One and One-Half Inches Deep, ^ $15.00.

A LITTLE JOURNEY
To the home of "Soundview" (" The Philistine"
of the Pacific), exponent of thp "Society of Ever
greens," for one year for only 50 cents. For 50
cents additional we '11 send (as long as 850 copies''
last) a copy of " Wildwood Philosophy" (bound
in green cloth, emblematic of the society), the best
thing of its kind since Emerson's " Nature." This
is a " first edition " ; a hint to the Philistine is suf
ficient. The dollar also includes membership in
the society, which is composed of ' " Men-not-
afraid-of-an-idea " (and women.). SOUNDVIEW
is on sale at news-stands, 10 cents the copy (none
free); but to secure this SPECIAL OFFER, made
to the ELECT ONLY, you should mail the letter-
(on the Four O'clock Train), addressing
THE BOSS EVERGREEN
OLALLA (ON P UG E T S O U N D )
IN THE STATE OF WASHINGTON, U. S. A.

FROM A TRUANT-SCHOOL OFFICIAL
ELBERT HUBBARD:
My Dear Sir :^Ypu say, " Education comes through doing things,
making things, going without things, talking about things " — an4
boys' gardens are the things. Twelve years in this school among the
' ' bad boys ' ' has proved for me the truth of your remarks .
No part of truant- school work is more educative than the boys' gar
dens. They talk about them all winter, and in their season show them
to their friends and visitors. From the day they begin on the hot-beds,
to the harvest time, every day brings renewed interest and instruction.
Q, The general farm work, however, is not neglected, for the boys do
1:he odd jobs and especially good results are paid for and the boy is
allowed to keep the money. One member of the school was given a
dollar for trimming the raspberry field ; he worked while the others
played, and he was so pleased that he' hunted up other odd jobs and
obtained permission to do them also. He mended broken wheelbar
rows .'^siay-rakes, screen windows, doors, and what not.
This boy is only one among the many educated by doing things !
If parents, teachers and school officers could only see the wofth of a
little plot of ground for a garden, a box of tools for the boy, a repair
room for broken things, and a little .encouragement, education would
be well begun.
I have two boys in mind who spend much of their time talking about
the farm they intend to purchase in the near futu,re. They sent to a
farm agent for circulars advertising farms for sale^
One boy, after leaving the school, rented an old abandoned farmhouse
and successfully cultivated the land around it for a few years. He
afterward becanie a farm foreman. The interest taken in growing
things is wonderful. I have known boys to transplant small trees and
care for them as tenderly as possible. Why, every tree on the place is
owned by the boys, .and most of them are set out by the boys. They
have no need of tree guards or sign boards — the boys own the trees.
Ct The boys own evei;ything^the cattle oij the hills, who will follow
the boys over the pasture to hear thenp sing. They own the dog, the
kittens, the pigs, the hens, and, in many cases, they are the real
owners, too. The boys do not swear or fight or run away. They talk
farm crops, cattle, gardens, work-^now buying and selling, have auc
tions and put up for sale the things they have raised, made or mended.
(( This is educations they are doing things, talking abou^ things,
making things, going without things,iand taking care of themselves.
Yours truly,
^pakdale, Mass., Aug. 24, 1903. F.^L. JOHNSOI*.

A List of Books
for sale at our Shop
Below is a list of books> some of which have al
most disappeared from ' mortal view. The volumes
are ali bound' roycroftie, and are offered to the Dis-*
cernirig at the prices quoted!. The Roycrofters are
always glad to send their wares for inspectioiilj
Therefore,"no matter Ti^here you reside, drop us a
postal saying what books you would like to see,
and they will go forward at once. ¦

Aucassin and Nicolete, jSa.oo
Will o' W Mill, i.oo
Old John Burroughs, z.ob
A Christmas CSirol, 2. bo
Poe's Poems, ^.50
Rubaiyat, ' 5.00
Contemplations, 5.00
Garcia and Thirteen, 2,00
Little Journeys, accqrd-
ing to binding, fz, I3 & 5.00

Stoqr of a Passion, ', fz.oo-
Golden River, 2.00
Christmas Eve, 2.00
Self-Reliance, 2.00
Maud, 2.00
Dreams,. 5.00
Hamlet, • 5.oq
Lodging for the Night, , 2.00
Phili^stine, Vols. 11, ij,
14, 15, 16, each, ' 1.00

The Roycrofters

East Aurora,
New Yorkv <.

*m>m

UFEMEMfiEBSl IN THE »««««»9»»»«««»*?###9i*4
AMERICAN ACADEMf^
OF IMMORTALS ??^
COSTS TEN dollar!

|D FURTHER DUES OR ASSESSMENTS, ANl^l
^ABILITIES. YOUR DUTIES CONSIST IN;
i.XVliiG UP TO YOUR IDEAL (AS NEARLY AS^
POSSIiSLE) AND ATTENDING THE ANNUAl-t
EiiNNER (IP CONVENIENT), if if if if if 4f if ^TW

W<

(i) The membership entitles you to one copy of the^l
Philistine ni^azine for ninety-nine years, but no'
longer. . ¦, /?,{''¦" .._j
(a) AU the back bound volumes of "The Philistine "*3
we have on hand. : .M
(3) " Little Journeys," beginning with current nu«ni-^
bers, and all that shall be issued in future. ^w
(4} Sudh other books, pamphlets, addresses and d^4:
umehts as the Roycrofters may elect to send you^^
Every Little While. ' 'm
(S) Success, Health and Love Vibrations, sent daily
by the Pastor or Ali Baba.
ADDRESS ¥he bursar, EAST AURORA, NEW YORK

LITTLE JOURNEYS
TO THE HOMES OF
EMINENT ORATORS
By ELBERT HtifiBARD
SUBJECTS AS FOLLOWS:
I Peitcles 7 Marat
2 Mark Antony 8 Robert Ingersoll
3 Savonarola g Patrick Henry
4 Martin Luther lo .;Ttii^%^ Starr King
5 Edmund Burke ii ttenry Ward Beeiher
6 William Pitt 12 Wendell Phillips
One booklet a month will be issued as usual,, begin- '
ning on January ist.
The LITTLE JOURNEYS for 1903 will be strictly
de luxe in form and workmanship. The type willbe a
new font of antique blackface ; the initials designed
especially for this work ; a frontispiece, portrait from
the original drawing made at our Shop. The booklets
will be stitched by hand with silk.
The price — 25 cents each, or $3^00 for the year.
Address THE ROYCROFTERS at their
Shop, which is at East Aurora, New Y?w^f
Entered at the postoffice at East Aurora, New York, for transmission
as second-class mail matter. Copyright, 1902, by Elbert Hubbard

Braiin, the IcdIoGlast

All the best works of
this famous " Apos-
,^, , . ^ , tie" may, be had in
popk forin. They have beert neatly compiled in two volumes, with a
brief ^iof^raphical sketch and frontispiece of the author.
The inost fearle^s^ yet justaiid instructive works in print.
Price $1.50 per vol., $3.00' for both volumes. For sale by leading
news and;book dealers throughout the United States and Canada, or
THE BRANN BOOK CO., WACO, T^XAS.
(MRS. 'W. C. BHANN. PITR ^ /

BRANN, PUB.)

Why Not You, Too?
If I can save money wit^ one of these handy little
$5 Printing Presses', why can't you ? I print my own
cards,^(envelopes, circulars', etc., get them ASJ want them & WHEN
I w|nt them, and at HALF usual cost. Type-setting, is easy by the
prilled instructions sent. Write to the ^factory for illustrated cata-
Ill^VL^of^gp^efv type, paper, etc. > ^
JEXCeOIEOR PRESS CO., MERIDEN, CONN.

-Ti„a„r:

. iunts of Fish aind Game"
The Grand Trunk Railway system has issued a very
b^l^some booklet entitled, '< Haunts of Fish- and
Garhe, '"dealing with the famous districts situated in
the <' Highlands of Ontario," where deer and moose
abound. €( Free copies of this publication may be had
on Supplication to G. T. BELL, G. P. & T. A,, Grand
Tr^itik Railway Systeni, Montreal. "*
HAVE the following Roycroft Books for sale
The edition of each being extinct as far as the publish
ers are concerned: Book of Job, $12.50; Dipsy Chanty,
$5.00; Song of Songs, $25.00; As It Seems to Me, $7.50;
Journal of Koheleth, $12.50; Glynne's Wife, $5.00; A PerMan Pearl,
i.50'; Set Philistines (bound in boards) Vols. 1-15, inclusive, $60.00.

If you are
^vnte me, *

ierested' ress

f; Lyman Chandler, Willink, N. Y.

As You Like It
BY
. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

E have made this book as a compan-
ion volume to our "Hamlet," and^
expect to produce one Shakespeare play
a year until we have issued the best of
them. The type is the "Bruce Roman,"
one of the plainest and most elegant face^
ever cut. Special head-bands and orna
ments designed by Roycroft workers.
Bound solidly in boards, leather back', ^ 5.00
A few on Japan Vellum, specially illu
mined/and bound in three-quai;ters
Levant, hand-tooled, 25.OO
The Roycrofters, g^ewVo"?:

r

5ook of Songs
BY
HEINRICH HEINE

:mm selection of one hundred of the
wB^ things that have made this singer's
name deathless, with k sketch of the life
of Heine by Theophile Gautier.
The Grown-u^p — man or woman — who
does not i-ead, re-re^d, mark, line, linger
over and love The Book of Songs, is let
ting the _joy 'of life give him the slip.
Price, $ 2.00
A few on Jap&n Vellum, in thfee-quarters
German Marbled Calf, hand-tooled, 10.00
THE KO YOROFTERS, East ^urdra, :N^. Y.

DOCTOR K NEW
Had Tried it Himself
The doctor who has tried Postum Food Coffee knows
that it is an easy, certain, and pleasant way out of the
coffee habit and all of the ails foUo^ving and he pre
scribes it for his patients as did a. physician of Prosper-
to^vn, N. J. One of his patients says: "During the
summer just past, I suffered terribly with a heavy feel
ing at the pit of my stomach, and dizzy feelings in my
head, and then a blindness would come over my eyes
so I would have to sit dowil. I would~"get so nervous I
could hardly control my feelings.
"Finally, I spoke to bur family physician about it,
and- he jisked if I drank much coffee, and mother told
him that I did. He told me to immediately stop drink-
'ing coffee and drink Postum Food Coffee in its place, as
he and his family had used Postum and found it a pow
erful rebuilder and delicious food drink.
"I hesitated for a tinre, disliking the idea 'of having
to give up my coffee, but finally I got a package and
found it to be all the Dr. said. Since drinking the Pos
tum in place of coffee, my dizziness^ blindness and
nervousness are all gone, my bowels are regular, and I
am, again well and strong. That is a short statement of
what Postum has done for me." Name given by Postum
Co., Battle Creek, Mich.
Look in each package for a copy of the famous little
book, "The Road to W^ellville." -

Henrv Ward Beecher

Little iSe\
|3ouitncv$ To the Homes of|
EMINENTORATORS I
Ulttftten by Elbeitt
l^lubbattd & done
Into a Book by the
Roycpofteits at the
Shop, lohich is in
East Jiuitotta, neto
Yoitk, H. D. 1908

You know how the heart is subject to freshets; you know how the
mother, always loving her child, yet seeing in it some new wile
of affection, will catch it up and cover it with kisses and break forth
in a rapture of loving. Such a kind of heart-glow fell from the Saviour
upon that young man who said to him, ¦' Good Master, what good
thing shall I do that I may inherit eternal life?" It is said, "Then
Jesus, beholding him, loved him."

HENRY WARD BEECHER

121

HE influence of Henry Ward Beecher
upon his time was marked. And now the
stream of his life is lost amid the ocean
of our being. As a single drop of aniline
in a barrel of water will tint the whole
mass, so has the entire American mind
been colored through the existence of
this one glowing personality. He placed
a new interpretation on religion, and we
are different people because he lived.
Q He was not constructive, not admin
istrative — he wrote much, but as litera
ture his work has small claim on im
mortality .He was an orator, and the busi
ness of the orator is to inspire other men
to think and act for themselves.
Orators live but in memory. Their des
tiny is to be the sweet elusive fragrance
of oblivion — the thyme and mignonette
of things that v^ere.
The limitations in the all-'round man
are by-products which are used by des
tiny in the making of orators. The well
ing emotions, the vivid imagination, the
forgetfulness of self, the abandon to feel
ing — all these things in Wall Street are
spurious coin. No prudent man was ever
an orator — no cautious man ever made
a multitude change its mind, when it

122  HENRY V^ARD BEECHER
had vowed it would not. Q Oratory is indiscretion set
to music if if
The great orator is great on account of his weaknesses
as well as on account of his strength. So ^vhy should
we expect the orator to be the impeccable man of
perfect parts ?
These essays attempt to give the man — they are
neither a vindication nor an apology.
Edmund Gosse has recently said something so wise
and to the point on the subject of biography that I can
not resist the temptation to quote him :
If the reader will but bear with me so far as to endure
the thesis that the first theoretical object of the biog
rapher should be indiscretion, not discretion, I will
concede almost everything practical to delicacy. But
this must be granted to me : that the aim of all por
traiture ought to be the emphasizing of vrhat makes
the man different from, not like, other men. The widow
almost always desires that her deceased hero should
be represented as exactly like all other respectable
men, only a little grander, a little more glorified. She
hates, as only a bad biographer can hate, the telling
of the truth with respect to those faults and foibles
which made the light and shade of his character. This,
it appears, was the primitive view of biography. The
mass of medieval memorials was of the "expanded
tract" order: it was mainly composed of lives of the
saints, tractates in vrhich the possible and the impos
sible were mingled in inextricable disorder, but where
every word was intended directly for edification. Here
the biographer was a moralist whose hold upon exact
truth of statement was very loose indeed, but who

HENRY WARD BEECHER  123
was determined that every word he wrote should
strengthen his readers in the faith. Nor is this gener
ation of biographers dead to-day. Half the lives of the
great and good men, which are published in England
and America, are expanded tracts. Let the biographer
be tactful, but do not let him be cowardly ; let him
cultivate delicacy, but avoid its ridiculous parody,
prudery if if
And I also quote this from James Anthony Froude :
Q The usual custom in biography is to begin with the
brightest side and to leave the faults to be discovered
afterwards. It is dishonest and it does not answer. Of
all literary sins, Carlyle himself detested most a false
biography. Faults frankly acknowledged are frankly
forgiven. Faults concealed ^vork always like poison.
Burns' offences were made no secret of. They are
now forgotten, and Burns stands without a shadow on
him, the idol of his countrymen.
Byron's diary was destroyed, and he remains and will
remain with a stain of suspicion about him, which re
vives and will revive, and will never be wholly oblit
erated. " The truth shall make you free " in biography
as in everything. Falsehood and concealment are a
great man's worst enemies.

HENRY W^ARD BEECHER was born at Litch
field, Conn., June 23, 1813. He was the eighth
child of Lyman and Roxana Foote Beecher.
Like Lincoln and various other great men, Beecher
had two mothers : the one who gave him birth and the
one who cared for him as he grew up. Beecher used

124  HENRY WARD BEECHER
to take with him on his travels an old daguerreotype
of his real mother, and in the cover of the case, be
neath the glass, was a lock of her hair — fair in color,
and bright as if touched by the kiss of the summer sun.
Often he would take this picture out and apostrophize
it, just as he v^ould the uncut gems that he always
carried in his pockets. " My first mother," he used to
call her; and to him she stood as a sort of deity. " My
first mother stands to me for love ; my second mother
for discipline; my father for justice," he once said to
Halliday if if
I am not sure that Beecher had a well defined idea of
either discipline or justice, but love to him was a very
vivid and personal reality. He knew v^hat it meant —
infinite forgiveness, a lifelong, yearning tenderness, a
Something that suffereth long and is kind. This he
preached for fifty years, and he preached little else.
Lyman Beecher proclaimed the justice of God; Henry
^Vard Beecher told of His love. Lyman Beecher was
a logician, but Henry Vizard was a lover. There is
a task on hand for the man who attempts to prove
that Nature is kind, or that God is love. Perhaps man
himself, v^ith all his imperfections, gives us the best
example of love that the universe has to offer. In
preaching the love of God, Henry W^ard Beecher re
vealed his ov^n ; for oratory, like literature, is only a
confession. " My first mother is always pleading for me — she
reaches out her arms to me — her delicate, long, taper-

HENRY WARD BEECHER  125
ing fingers stroke my hair — I hear her voice, gentle
and lovr!" Do you say this is the language of o'er-
wrought emotion ? I say to you it is simply the lan
guage of love. This mother, dead, and turned to dust,
who passed out when the boy was scarce three years
old, stood to him for the ideal. Love, anyway, is a
matter of the imagination, and he who cannot imagine
cannot love, and love is from within. The lover clothes
the beloved in the garments of his fancy, and woe to
him if he ever loses the power to imagine.
Have you not often noticed how the man or woman
whose mother died before a time the child could re
call, and whose memory clusters around a faded pic
ture and a lock of hair — how this person is thrice
blessed in that the ideal is always a shelter when the
real palls ? Love is a refuge and a defense. The Law
of Compensation is kind : Lincoln lived, until the day
of his death, bathed in the love of Nancy Hanks, that
mother, worn, yellow and sad, who gave him birth,
and yet whom he had never known. No child ever
really lost its mother — nothing is ever lost. Men are
only grown-up children, and the longing to be moth
ered is not effaced by the passing years. The type is
well shown in the life of Meissonier, whose mother
died in his childhood, but she was near him to the last.
In his journal he wrote this : " It is the morning of my
seventieth birthday. What a long time to look back
upon ! This morning, at the hour my mother gave me
birth, I wished my first thoughts to be of her. Dear

126  HENRY WARD BEECHER
Mother, how often have the tears risen at the remem
brance of you ! It was your absence — my longing for
you — that made you so dear to me. The love of my
heart goes out to you ! Do you hear me, Mother, cry
ing and calling for you ? How sweet it must be to
have a mother! "

ONE might suppose that a childless woman sud
denly presented by fate with an exacting hus
band and a brood of nine would soon be a
candidate for nervous prostration ; but Sarah Porter
Beecher rose to the level of events, and looked after
her household with diligence and a conscientious
heart. Little Henry Ward was four years old and wore
a red flannel dress, outgrown by one of the girls. He
was chubby, with a full-moon face, and yellow curls,
which were so much trouble to take care of that they
were soon cut off, after he had set the example of
cutting off two himself. He talked as though his mouth
-were full of hot mush. If sent to a neighbor's on an
errand, he usually forgot what he was sent for, or else
explained matters in such a v^ay that he brought back
the wrong thing. His mother meant to be kind ; her
patience was splendid; and one's heart goes out to
her in sympathy when we think of her faithful efforts
to teach the lesser catechism to this baby savage who
much preferred to make mud pies.
Xittle Henry W^ard had a third mother who did him

HENRY ^A^ARD BEECHER  127
much gentle benefit, and that was his sister Harriet,
two years his senior. These little child-mothers who
take care of the younger members of the family de
serve special seats in paradise. Harriet taught little
Henry W^ard to talk plainly, to add four and four, and
to look solemn v^hen he did not feel so — and thus es
cape the strap behind the kitchen door. His bringing-
up was of the uncaressing, let-alone kind.
Lyman Beecher was a deal better than his religion ;
for his religion, like that of most people, was an inher
itance, not an evolution. Piety settled down upon the
household like a pall every Saturday at sundown ; and
the lessons taught were largely from the Old Testa
ment if if
These big, bustling, strenuous households are pretty
good life-drill for the members. The children are taught
self-reliance, to do without each other, to do for others,
and the older members educate the younger ones. It
is a great thing to leave children alone. Henry \A^ard
Beecher has intimated in various places in his books
how the whole Beecher brood loved their father, yet
as precaution against misunderstanding they made
the sudden sneak and the quick side-step whenever
they saw him coming.
Village life with a fair degree of prosperity, but not
too much, is an education in itself. The knowledge
gained is not always classic, nor even polite, but it is
all a part of the great seething game of life. Henry
W^ard Beecher was not an educated man in the usual

128  HENRY WARD BEECHER
sense of the word. At school he carved his desk, made
faces at the girls, and kept the place in a turmoil gen
erally : doing the wrong thing, just like many another
bumpkin. At home he carried in the wood, picked up
chips, virorked in the garden in summer, and shoveled
out the walks in winter. He knew when the dish water
vtras worth saving to mix up with meal for chickens,
and when it should be put on the asparagus bed or the
rose bushes. He could make a lye-leach, knew that it
was lucky to set hens on thirteen eggs, realized that
hens' eggs hatched in three weeks, and ducks' in four.
He knew when the berries ripened, where the crows
nested, and could find the bee-trees by watching the
flight of the bees after they had gotten their fill on the
basswood blossoms. He knew all the birds that sang
in the branches — could tell what birds migrated and
what not — was acquainted Tvith the flowers and weeds
and fungi — knew where the rabbits burrowed — could
pick the milk-weed that would cure warts, and tell the
points of the compass by examining the bark of the
trees. He was on familiar terms with all the ragamuf
fins in the village, and regarded the man who kept the
livery stable as the wisest person in New England,
and the stage-driver as the wittiest.
Lyman Beecher was a graduate of Yale, and Henry
'Ward would have been, had he been able to pass the
preparatory examinations. But he could n't, and finally
he was bundled off to Amherst, very much as we now
send boys to a business college when they get plucked

HENRY WARD BEECHER  129
at the high school. But it matters little — give the boys
time — some of them ripen slowly, and others there be
vrho kno\v more at sixteen than they will ever know
again, like street gamins \vith the wit of debauchees,
rareripes at ten, and rotten at the core. " Delay adol
escence," wrote Dr. Charcot to an anxious mother —
"delay adolescence, and you bank energy until it is
needed. If your boy is stupid at fourteen, thank God !
Dullness is a fulcrum and your son is getting ready to
put a lever under the \world."
At Amherst, Henry W^ard stood well at the foot of his
class. He read everything excepting what was in the
curriculum, and never allowed his studies to interfere
with his college course. He reveled in the debating
societies, and was always ready to thrash out any sub
ject in w^ordy warfare against all comers. His temper
was splendid, his good-nature sublime. If an opponent
got the best of him he enjoyed it as much as the audi
ence — he could wait his turn. The man who can laugh
at himself, and who is not anxious to have the last
word, is right in the suburbs of greatness.
However, the Beechers all had a deal of positivism in
their characters. Thom&s K. Beecher of Elmira, in
1856, declared he would not shave until John C. Fremont
was elected president. It is needless to add that he
wore whiskers the rest of his life.
W^hen Henry W^ard was nineteen his father received
a call to become President of Lane Theological Sem
inary at Cincinnati, and Henry Ward accompanied

130  HENRY W^ARD BEECHER
him as assistant. The stalwart old father had now
come to recognize the worth of his son, and for the
first time parental authority was waived and they were
companions. They were very much alike — exuberant
health, energy plus, faith and hope to spare. And
Henry Ward now saw that there was a gentle, tender
and yearning side to his father's nature, into which
the world only caught glimpses. Lyman Beecher was
not free — he was bound by a hagiograph riveted upon
his soul; and so to a degree his wrhole nature was
cramped and tortured in his struggles between the
"natural man ' ' and the " spiritual." The son was taught
by antithesis, and inwardly vowed he would be free.
The one word that looms large in the life of Beecher
is LIBERTY.

HENRY W^ARD BEECHER died aged seventy-
four, having preached since he was twenty-
three. During that time he was pastor of three
churches — two years at Lawrenceburg, Indiana, six
years in Indianapolis, and forty-three years in Brook
lyn. It was in 1837 that he became pastor of the Con
gregational Church at Lawrenceburg. This town was
then a rival of Cincinnati. It had six churches — several
more than were absolutely needed. The Baptists were
strong, the Presbyterians ^vere strenuous, the Epis
copalians were exclusive, while the Congregationalists
were at ebb-tide through the rascality of a preacher

HENRY ^A^ARD BEECHER  131
who had recently decamped and thrown a blanket of
disgrace over the whole denomination for ten miles
up the creek. Thus were things when Henry Ward
Beecher assumed his first charge. The membership of
the church was made up of nineteen ^vomen and one
man. The ne^v pastor was sexton as well as preacher
— he swept out, rang the bell, lighted the candles and
locked up after service.
Beecher remained in Lawrenceburg tv^o years. The
membership had increased to a hundred and six men
and seventy ^vomen. I suppose it will not be denied as
an actual fact that women bolster the steeples so that
they stay on the churches. From the time women held
the rope and let St. Paul down in safety from the wall
in a basket, women have maintained the faith. But
Beecher was a man's preacher from first to last. He
was a bold, manly man, making his appeal to men.
QTwo years at Lawrenceburg and he moved to Indi
anapolis, the capital of the state, his reputation hav
ing been carried thither by the member from Posey
County, who incautiously boasted that his deestrick
had the most powerful preacher of any town on the
Ohio River if if
At Indianapolis, Beecher was a success at once. He
entered into the affairs of the people with an ease and
a good nature that won the hearts of this semi-pioneer
population. His «« Lectures to Young Men," delivered
Sunday evenings to packed houses, still have a sale.
This bringing religion down from the lofty heights of

132  HENRY WARD BEECHER
theology and making it a matter of every-day life, was
eminently Beecheresque. And the reason it was a suc
cess was because it fitted the needs of the people.
Beecher expressed what the people were thinking.
Mankind clings to the creed ; we will not burn our
bridges — we want the religion of our mothers, yet we
crave the simple common sense we can comprehend
as well as the superstition we can't. Beecher's task
was to rationalize orthodoxy so as to make it palatable
to thinking minds. "I can't ride two horses at one
time," once said Robert Ingersoll to Beecher, "but
possibly I '11 be able to yet, for to-morrow I am going
to hear you preach." Then it was that Beecher offered
to write IngersoU's epitaph, which he proceeded to do
by scribbling two words on the back of an envelope,
thus: ROBERT BURNS.
But these men understood and had a thorough respect
for each other. Once at a mass meeting at Cooper
Union, Beecher introduced Ingersoll as the " first, fore
most, and most gifted of all living orators."
And Ingersoll, not to be outdone, referred in his speech
to Beecher as the " one orthodox clergyman in the
world who has eliminated hell from his creed and put
the devil out of church, and still stands in his pulpit."
QSix years at Indianapolis put Beecher in command
of his armament. And Brooklyn, seeking a man of
power, called him thither. His first sermon in Ply
mouth Church outlined his course — and the principles
then laid down he was to preach for fifty years. The

HENRY WARD BEECHER  i33
love of God ; the life of Christ, not as a sacrifice, but
as an example — our Elder Brother; and Liberty —
liberty to think, to express, to act, to become.
It Tvould have been worth going miles to see this man
as he appeared at Plymouth Church those first years
of his ministry. Such a specimen of mental, spiritual
and physical manhood Nature produces only once in
a century. Imagine a man of thirty-five, when man
hood has not yet left youth behind, height five feet ten,
weight one hundred and eighty, a body like that of a
Greek god, and a mind poised, sure, serene, with a fund
of good nature that could not be overdrawn ; a face
cleanly shaven ; a wealth of blonde hair falling to his
broad shoulders ; eyes of infinite blue, — eyes like the
eyes of Christ when He gazed upon the penitent thief
on the cross, or eyes that flash fire, changing their
color with the mood of the man — a radiant, happy man,
the cheeriest, sunniest nature that ever dwelt in human
body, with a sympathy that went out to everybody
and everything — children, animals, the old, the feeble,
the fallen — a man too big to be jealous, too noble to
quibble, a man so manly that he would accept guilt
rather than impute it to another. If he had been pos
sessed of less love he would have been a stronger man.
The generous nature lies open and unprotected —
through its guilelessness it allows concrete rascality
to come close enough to strike it. " One reason why
Beecher had so many enemies was because he be
stowed so many benefits," said Rufus Choate.

134  HENRY WARD BEECHER
Talmage did not discover himself until he was forty-
six; Beecher was Beecher at thirty-five. He ^vas as
great then as he ever was — it was too much to ask
that he should evolve into something more — Nature
has to distribute her gifts. Had Beecher grown after
his thirty-fifth year, as he grew from twenty-five to
thirty-five, he would have been a Colossus that would
have disturbed the equilibrium of the thinking world,
and created revolution instead of evolution. The oppo
sition toward great men is right and natural — it is a
part of Nature's plan to hold the balance true, "lest
ye become as gods ! "

I TRAVELED with Major James B. Pond one lec
ture season, and during that time heard only two
themes discussed, John Brown and Henry Ward
Beecher. These were his gods. Pond fought with John
Brown in Kansas, shoulder to shoulder, and it was
only through an accident that he was not with Brown
at Harper's Ferry, in which case his soul v^ould have
gone marching on with that of Old John Brown. From
i860 to 1866 Pond belonged to the army, and was sta
tioned in western Missouri, where there was no com
missariat, where they took no prisoners, and ^vhere
men lived, like Jesse James, who never knew the war
was over. Pond had so many notches cut on the butt
of his pistol that he had ceased to count them. He was
big, brusque, quibbling, insulting, dictatorial, pains-

HENRY WARD BEECHER  13s
taking, considerate and kind. He was the most exas
perating and lovable man I ever knew. He left a trail
of enemies wherever he traveled, and the irony of fate
is shown in that he was allowed to die peacefully in
his bed if if
I cut my relationship with him because I did not care
to be pained by seeing his form dangling from the
cross-beam of a telegraph pole. \Vhen I lectured at
Washington a policeman appeared at the box-office
and demanded the amusement license fee of five dol
lars. "Your authority?" roared Pond. And the police
man not being able to explain. Pond kicked him down
the stairway, and kept his club as a souvenir. We got
out on the midnight train before warrants could be
served if if
He would often push me into the first carriage when
we arrived at a town, and sometimes the driver would
say, "This is a private carriage," or, "This rig is en
gaged," and Pond would reply, "'What 's that to me
— drive us to the hotel — you evidently don't know
whom you are talking to ! " And so imperious was his
manner that his orders were usually obeyed. Arriving
at the hotel, he would hand out double fare. It was his
rule to pay too much or too little. Yet as a manager he
was perfection — he knew the trains to a minute, and
always knew, too, what to do if we missed the first
train, or if the train was late. At the hall he saw that
every detail was provided for. If the place was too
hot, or too cold, somebody got thoroughly damned. If

?36  HENRY WARD BEECHER
the ventilation was bad, and he could not get the win
dows open, he would break them out. If you ques
tioned his balance sheet he would the next day flash
up an expense account that looked like a plumber's
bill and give you fifty cents as your share of the spoils.
At hotels he always got a room with two beds, if pos
sible. I was his prisoner — he was despotically kind —
he regulated my hours of sleep, my meals, my exer
cise. He would throve intruding visitors down stairs
as average men shoo chickens or scare cats. He was a
bundle of profanity and unrest until after the lecture.
Then we would go to our room, and he would talk like
a windmill. He would crawl into his bed and I into
mine, and then he would continue telling Beecher
stories half the night, comparing me with Beecher to
my great disadvantage. A dozen times I have heard
him tell how Beecher would say, " Pond, never con
sult me about plans or explain details — if you do, our
friendship ceases." Beecher was glad to leave every
detail of travel to Pond, and Pond delighted in assum
ing sole charge. Beecher never audited an account — he
just took what Pond gave him and said nothing. In
this Beecher was very wise — he managed Pond and
Pond never knew it. Pond had a pride in paying
Beecher as much as possible, and found gratification
in giving the money to Beecher instead of keeping it.
He wras immensely proud of his charge and grew to
have an idolatrous regard for Beecher. Pond's brusque
ways amused Beecher, and the Osawatomie experi-

HENRY WARD BEECHER  i37
ence made him a sort of hero in Beecher's eyes.
Beecher took Pond at his true value, regarded his
wrath as a child's tantrum, and let him do most of the
talking as well as the business. And Beecher's great,
welling heart touched a side of Pond's nature that
few knew existed at all — a side that he masked with
harshness ; for, in spite of his perversity, Pond had his
virtues — he vvas simple as a child, and so ingenuous
that deception with him was impossible. He could not
tell a lie so you would not know it.
He served Beecher with a dog-like loyalty, and an
honesty beyond suspicion. They were associated
fourteen years, traveled together over three hundred
thousand miles, and Pond paid to Beecher two hun
dred and forty thousand dollars.
BEECHER and Tilton became acquainted about
the year i860. Beecher was at that time forty-
seven years old ; Tilton was twenty-five. The
influence of the older man over the younger was very
marked. Tilton became one of the most zealous work
ers in Plymouth Church : he attended every service,
took part in the 'Wednesday evening prayer meeting,
helped take up the collection, and was a constant re
cruiting force. Tilton was a reporter, and later an edi
torial writer on different New York and Brooklyn dai
lies. Beecher's Sunday sermon supplied Tilton the
cue for his next day's leader. And be it said to his

138  HENRY WARD BEECHER
honor, he usually gave due credit, and in various ways
helped the cause of Plymouth Church by booming the
reputation of its pastor.
Tilton ^vas possessed of a deal of intellectual nervous
force. His mind was receptive, active, versatile. His
all 'round newspaper experience had given him an ed
ucation, and he could express himself acceptably on
any theme. He wrote children's stories, threw off po
etry in idle hours, penned essays, skimmed the surface
of philosophy, and dived occasionally into theology.
But his theology and his philosophy were strictly the
goods put out by Beecher, distilled through the Tilton
cosmos. He occasionally made addresses at social
gatherings, and evolved into an orator whose reputa
tion extended to Staten Island.
Beecher's big, boyish heart went out to this bright
and intelligent young man — they were much in each
other's company. People said they looked alike; al
though one was tall and slender and the other was in
clined to be stout. Beecher wore his hair long, and
now Tilton wore his long, too. Beecher affected a
wide-brimmed slouch hat ; Tilton wore one of similar
style, with brim a trifle wider. Beecher wore a large,
blue cloak ; Tilton wrapped himself 'round with a cloak
one shade more ultramarine than Beecher's.
Tilton' s wife was very much like Tilton — both were
intellectual, nervous, artistic. They were so much
alike that they give us a hint of what a hell this world
would be if all mankind were made in one mold. But

HENRY WARD BEECHER  139
there was this difference between them : Mrs. Tilton
was proud, while Tilton was vain. They were only
civil toward each other because they had vovi^ed they
would be. They did not throw crockery, because to do
so would have been bad form.
Beecher \vas a great joker — hilarious, laughing, and
both witty and humorous. Twas going to say he was
wise, but that is n't the word. Tilton lacked wit — he
never bubbled excepting as a matter of duty. Both Mr.
and Mrs. Tilton greatly enjoyed the society of Beecher,
for, besides being a great intellectual force, his pres
ence was an antiseptic 'gainst jaundice and introspec
tion. And Beecherloved them both, because they loved
him, and because he loved everybody. They supplied
him a foil for his wit, a receptacle for his overflow of
spirit, a flint on which to strike his steel. Mrs. Tilton
admired Beecher a little more than her husband did —
she was a woman. Tilton was glad that his wife liked
Beecher — it brought Beecher to his house ; & if Beecher
admired Tilton's wife — why, was not this a proof that
Tilton and Beecher were alike? I guess so. Mrs. Tilton
was musical, artistic, keen of brain, emotional, with all
a fine-fibred woman's longings, hopes and ideals.
So matters went drifting on the tide, and the years
went by as the years will.
Mrs. Tilton became a semi-invalid, the kind that doc
tors now treat with hypophosphites, beef-iron-and-
wine, cod-liver oil, and massage by the right attend
ant. They call it congenital anaemia — a scarcity of the

140  HENRY WARD BEECHER
red corpuscle. C( Some doctors there be who do not
yet know that the emotions control the secretions,
and a perfect circulation is a matter of mind. Anyway,
what can the poor Galenite do in a case like this — his
pills are powerless, his potions inane ! Tilton knew
that his wife loved Beecher, and he also fully realized
that in this she was only carrying out a little of the
doctrine of freedom that he taught, and that he claimed
for himself. For a time Tilton was beautifully magnan
imous. Occasionally Mrs. Tilton had spells of complete
prostration, when she thought she was going to die.
At such times her husband would send for Beecher to
come and administer extreme unction.
Instead of dying, the woman would get well.
After one such attack, Tilton taunted his wife with
her quick recovery. It was a taunt that pulled tight on
the corners of his mouth ; it was lacking in playfulness.
Beecher was present at the bedside of the propped-up
invalid. They turned on Tilton, did these two, and
flayed him with their agile wit and ready tongues.
Tilton protested they were wrong — he was not jealous
— the idea ! if if
But that afternoon he had his hair cut, and he discarded
the slouch hat for one with a stiff brim.
It took six months for his hair to grow to a length
sufficient to indicate genius.

HENRY WARD BEECHER  141
BEECHER'S great heart was wrung and stung
by the tangle of events in which he finally found
himself plunged. That his love for Mrs. Tilton
was great there is no doubt, and for the wife with
vt^hom he had lived for over a score of years he had a
profound pity and regard. She had not grown with him.
Had she remained in Lawrenceburg, Indiana, and
married a well-to-do grocer, all for her would have
been well. Beecher belonged to the world, and this his
wife never knew : she thought she owned him. To in
terest her and to make her shine before the world,
certain literary productions were put out with her
name as author, on request of Robert Bonner, but all
this was a pathetic attempt by her husband to conceal
the truth of her mediocrity. She spied upon him,
watched his mail, turned his pockets, and did all the
things no wife should do, lest perchance she be punished
by finding her suspicions true. 'Wives and husbands
must live by faith. The wife who is miserable until
she makes her husband "confess all," is never happy
afterwards. Beecher could not pour out his soul to his
wife — he had to watch her mood and dole out to her
the platitudes she could digest — never with her did he
reach abandon. But the wife strove to do her duty —
she v^as a good housekeeper, economical and industri
ous, and her very virtues proved a source of exasper
ation to her husband — he could not hate her.
It was Mrs. Beecher who first discovered the rela
tionship existing between her husband and Mrs. Tilton.

142  HENRY WARD BEECHER
She accused her husband, and he made no denial —
he offered her her liberty. But this she did not want.
Beecher promised to break with Mrs. Tilton. They
parted — parted forever in sweet sorrows.
And the next vreek they met again.
The greater the man before the public, the more he
outpours himself, the more his need for mothering in
the quiet of his home. All things are equalized, and
'with the strength of the sublime spiritual nature goes
the weakness of a child. Beecher vtras an undeveloped
boy to the day of his death.
Beecher at one time had a great desire to stand square
before the world. Major Pond, on Beecher's request,
went to Mrs. Beecher and begged her to sue for a
divorce. At the same time Tilton was asked to secure
a divorce from his wife. \A^hen all parties were free,
Beecher would marry Mrs. Tilton and face the vrorld
an honest man — nothing to hide — right out under the
clear blue sky, blown upon by the free winds of heaven !
Q, This was his heart's desire.
But all negotiations failed. Mrs. Beecher would not
give up her husband, and Tilton was too intent on re
venge — and cash — to even consider the matter. Then
came the crash.

HENRY WARD BEECHER  143
TILTON sued Beecher for one hundred thousand
dollars damages for alienating his wife's affec
tion. It took five months to try the case. The
best legal talent in the land was engaged. The jury
disagreed and the case was not tried again.
Had Mrs. Beecher applied for a divorce on statutory
grounds, no court would have denied her prayer. In
actions for divorce, guilt does not have to be proved —
it is assumed. But vtrhen one man sues another for
money damages, the rulings are drawn finer and mat
ters must be proved. That is where Tilton failed in
his law-suit.
At the trial, Beecher perjured himself like a gentleman
to protect Mrs. Tilton ; Mrs. Tilton waived the truth
for Beecher's benefit; and Mrs. Beecher swore black
was white because she did not want to lose her hus
band. Such a precious trinity of prevaricators is very
seldom seen in a court-room, a place where liars much
do congregate. Judge and jury knew they lied and re
spected them the more, for down in the hearts of all
men is a feeling that the love affairs of a man and
woman are sacred themes, and a bulwark of lies to
protect the holy of holies is ever justifiable.
Tilton was the one person who told the truth, and he
was universally execrated for it. Love does not leave
a person without reason. And there is something in
the thought of money as payment to a man for a
woman's love that is against nature.
Tilton lost the woman's love, and he would balm his

144  HENRY WARD BEECHER
lacerated heart with lucre ! Money ? God help us — a
man should earn money. V/e sometimes hear of men
who subsist on women's shame, but what shall we
say of a man who would turn parasite and live in lux
ury on a woman's love — and this woman by him now
spurned and scorned ! The faults and frailties of men
and women caught in the s^virl of circumstances are
not without excuse, but the cold plottings to punish
them and the desire to thrive by their faults, are hid
eous if if
The worst about a double life is not its immorality — it
is that the relationship makes a man a liar. The uni
verse is not planned for duplicity — all the energy we
have is needed in our business, and he who starts out
on the pathvray of untruth, finds himself treading upon
brambles and nettles which close behind him and make
return impossible. The further he goes the worse the
jungle of poison-oak and ivy, ^vhich at last circle him
round in strangling embrace. He who escapes the
clutch of a life of falsehood is as one in a million.
Victor Hugo has pictured the situation when he tells
of the man whose feet are caught in the bed of bird
lime. He attempts to jump out, but only sinks deeper
— he flounders, calls for help, and puts forth all his
strength. He is up to his knees — to his hips — his waist
— his neck, and at last only hands are seen reaching
up in mute appeal to heaven. But the heavens are as
brass, and soon where there was once a man is only
the dumb indifference of nature.

HENRY WARD BEECHER  i45
The only safe course is the open road of truth. Lies
once begun, pile up ; and lies require lies to bolster
them if if
Mrs. Tilton had made a written confession to her hus
band, but this she repudiated in court, declaring it was
given "in terrorem." Now she had only w^ords of
praise and vindication for Beecher.
Mrs. Beecher sat by her husband's side all through the
long trial. For a man to leave the woman with whom
he has lived a lifetime, and who is the mother of his
children, is out of the question. 'What if she does lack
intellect and spirituality! He has endured her; aye!
he has even been happy with her at times — the rela
tionship has been endurable — 't were imbecility, and
death for both, to break it.
Beecher and his wife would stand together.
Mrs. Tilton's lips had been sanctified by love, and
were sealed, though her heart did break.
The jury stood nine for Beecher and three against.
Major Pond, the astute, construed this into a vindica
tion — Beecher was not guilty !
The first lecture after the trial was given at Alexan
dria Bay. Pond had sold out for five hundred dollars.
Beecher said it was rank robbery — no one would be
there. The lecture was to be in the grove at three o'clock
in the afternoon. In the forenoon, boats were seen
coming from east and west and north— excursion boats
laden with pilgrims ; sail-boats, row-boats, skiffs, and
even birch-bark canoes bearing red-men. The people

146  HENRY WARD BEECHER
came also in carts and wagons, and on horseback.
An audience of five thousand confronted the lecturer.
C( The man who had planned the affair had banked on
his knowledge of humanity — the people wanted to see
and hear the individual who had been whipped naked
at the cart's tail, and who still lived to face the world
smilingly, bravely, undauntedly.
Major Pond was paid the $500.00 as agreed. The en
terprise had netted its manager over a thousand dol
lars — he was a rich man anyway — things had turned
out as he had prophesied, and in the exuberance of
his success he that night handed Mr. Beecher a check
for $250.00, saying, " This is for you with my love — it
is outside of any arrangement made with Major
Pond." After they had retired to their rooms, Beecher
handed the check to Pond, and said, as his blue eyes
filled with tears, " Major, you know what to do with
this?" And Major Pond said, "Yes."
Tilton went to Europe, leaving his family behind. But
Major Pond made it his business to see that Mrs. Til
ton wanted for nothing that money could buy. Beecher
never saw Mrs. Tilton, to converse with her, again.
She outlived him a dozen years. On her death-bed she
confessed to her sister that her denials as to her rela
tions with Beecher were untrue. " He loved me," she
said, " he loved me, and I would have been less than
woman had I not loved him. This love will be my
passport to paradise — God understands." And so she
died if if

HENRY VVARD BEECHER  147
TILTON ^vas by nature an unsuccessful man. He
vtras proudly aristocratic, lordly, dignified, jeal
ous, mentally wiggling and spiritually jiggling.
His career Tvas like that of a race-horse which makes
a record faster than he can ever attain again, and thus
is forever barred from all slow-paced competitions.
Tilton aspired to be a novelist, an essayist, a poet, an
orator. His performances in each of these lines, un
fortunately, were not bad enough to damn him ; and his
work done in fair weather was so much better than he
could do in foul that he was caught by the undertow.
And as for doing what Adirondack Murray did, get
right down to hard-pan and wash dishes in a dish-pan
— he could n't do it. Like an Indian, he would starve
before he would work — and he came near it, gaining
a garret living, teaching languages and doing hack
literary work in Paris, where he went to escape the
accumulation of contempt that came his way just
after the great Beecher trial.
Before this, Tilton started out to star the country as a
lecturer. He evidently thought he could climb to pop
ularity over the wreck of Henry 'Ward Beecher. Even
had he wrecked Beecher completely, it is very likely
he would have gone down in the swirl, and become
literary flotsam and jetsam just the same.
Tilton had failed to down his man, and men who are
failures do not draw on the lecture platform. The au
ditor has failure enough at home, God knows! and
what he wants when he lays down good money for a

148  HENRY WARD BEECHER
lecture ticket is to annex himself to a success. C(Tilton's
lecture was called "The Problem of Life" — a title
w^hich had the advantage of allowing the speaker to
say anything he wished to say on any subject and
still not violate the unities. I heard Tilton give this
lecture twice, and it was given from start to finish
in exactly the same ^vay. It contained much learning
— had flights of eloquence, bursts of bathos, puffs of
pathos, but not a smile in the whole hour and a half.
It was faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null,
dead perfection — no more. It was so perfect that some
people thought it great. The man was an actor and had
what is called platform presence. He would walk on the
stage, carrying his big blue cloak over his arm, his
slouch hat in his hand — for he clung to these Beecher
properties to the last, even claiming that Beecher was
encroaching on his preserve in ^vearing them.
He would bow as stiffly and solemnly as a ne^v-made
judge. Then he would toss the cloak on a convenient
sofa, place the big hat on top of it, and come down
to the footlights, deliberately removing his yellow kid
gloves. There was no introduction — he was the whole
show and brooked no competition. He would begin
talking as he removed the gloves ; he would get one
glove off and hold it in the other hand, seemingly lost
in his speech. From time to time he would emphasize
his remarks by beating the palm of his gloved hand
with the loose glove. By the time the lecture was half
over, both gloves would be lying on the table ; unlike

HENRY W^ARD BEECHER  i49
the performance of Sir Edwin Arnold, who, during his
readings, al^vays wore one white kid glove and carried
its mate in the gloved hand from beginning to end.
CJ Theodore Tilton's lectures were consummate art,
done by a handsome, graceful and cultured man in a
red necktie, but they did not carry enough caloric to
make them go. They seemed to lack vibrations. Art
without a message is for the people who love art for
art's sake, and God does not care much for these,
othenvise He would not have made so few of them.
As a sample of Beecher's eloquence, this extract
from his sermon on the death of Lincoln reveals
his quality :
The joy of the Nation came upon us suddenly, with
such a surge as no words can describe. Men laughed,
embraced one another, sang and prayed, and many
could only weep for gladness.
In one short hour, joy had no pulse. The sorrow was
so terrible that it stunned sensibility. The first feeling
was the least, and men wanted to get strength to feel.
Other griefs Ijelong always to some one in chief, but
this belonged to all. Men walked for hours as though
a corpse lay in their houses. The city forgot to roar.
Never did so many hearts in so brief a time touch two
such boundless feelings. It was the uttermost of joy
and the uttermost of sorrow — noon and midnight
without a space between. W^e should not mourn, how
ever, because the departure of the President was so
sudden. When one is prepared to die, the suddenness
of death is a blessing. They that are taken awake and

150  HENRY ^A^ARD BEECHER
watching, as the bridegroom dressed for the wedding,
and not those who die in pain and stupor, are blessed.
Neither should we mourn the manner of his death.
The soldier prays that he may die by the shot of the
enemy in the hour of victory, and it was meet that he
should be joined in a common experience in death
Tvith the brave men to whom he had been joined in all
his sympathy and life.
This blov^ ^vas but the expiring rebellion. Epitomized
in this foul act we find the whole nature and disposi
tion of slavery. It is fit that its expiring blovr should
be such as to take away from men the last forbear
ance, the last pity, and fire the soul with invincible
determination that the breeding-system of such mis
chiefs and monsters shall be forever and utterly de
stroyed. W^e needed not that he should put on paper
that he believed in slavery, who, with treason, with
murder, with cruelty infernal, hovered round that
majestic man to destroy his life. He was himself the
life-long sting with which Slavery struck at Liberty,
and he carried the poison that belonged to slavery;
and as long as this Nation lasts it will never be for
gotten that we have had one martyr-president — never,
never while time lasts, while heaven lasts, while hell
rocks and groans, will it be forgotten that slavery by
its minions slew him, and in slaying him made mani
fest its whole nature and tendency. This blow was
aimed at the life of the Government. Some murders
there have been that admitted shades of palliation, but
not such a one as this — without provocation, without
reason, without temptation — sprung from the fury of
a heart cankered to all that is pure and just.
The blow has failed of its object. The Government
stands more solid to-day than any pyramid of Egypt.
Men love liberty and hate slavery to-day more than

HENRY WARD BEECHER  151
ever before. How naturally, how easily, the Govern
ment passed into the hands of the new President, and
I avow my belief that he will be found a man true to
every instinct of liberty, true to the whole trust that
is imposed in him, vigilant of the Constitution, careful
of the laws, vtrise for liberty : in that he himself for his
life long, has known what it is to suffer from the stings
of slavery, and to prize liberty from the bitter experi
ence of his own life. Even he that sleeps has by this
event been clothed with new influence. His simple and
weighty words will be gathered like those of 'Wash
ington, and quoted by those who, were he alive, would
refuse to listen. Men will receive a new access to
patriotism. I swear you on the altar of his memory to
be more faithful to that country for which he perished.
We will, as we follow his hearse, swear a new hatred
to that slavery against which he warred, and which
in vanquishing him has made him a martyr and con
queror. I swrear you by the memory of this martyr to
hate slavery with an unabatable hatred, and to pur
sue it. 'We will admire the firmness of this man in
justice, his inflexible conscience for the right, his gen
tleness and moderation of spirit, which not all the hate
of party could turn to bitterness. And I swear you to
follow his justice, his moderation, his mercy. How can
I speak to that twilight million to whom his name was
as the name of an angel of God, and whom God sent
before them to lead them out of the house of bondage.
O, thou Shepherd of Israel, Thou that didst comfort
Thy people of old, to Thy care we commit these help
less and long-wronged and grieved.
And now the martyr is moving in triumphal march,
mightier than one alive. The Nation rises up at every
stage of his coming; cities and states are his pall
bearers, and the cannon beat the hours in solemn pro-

152

HENRY W^ARD BEECHER

gression ; dead, dead, dead, he yet speaketh. Is 'Wash
ington dead? Is Hampden dead? Is David? Q^ Four
years ago, O Illinois, v/e took from your midst an
untried man from among the people. Behold ! vre
return him to you a mighty conqueror ; not thine any
more, but the Nation's — not ours, but the world's.
Give him place, O ye prairies! in the midst of this
great continent shall rest a sacred treasure to myriads
who shall pilgrim to that shrine to kindle anew their
zeal and patriotism. Ye vvinds that move over mighty
spaces of the ^Vest, chant his requiem ! Ye people, be
hold the martyr vtrhose blood, as so many articulate
words, pleads for fidelity, for law, for LIBERTY !

HERE BNDETH THE LITTLE JOURNEY TO THE HOME
OF HENRY WARD BEECHER, BY ELBERT HUBBARD.
BORDERS, INITIALS AND ORNAMENTS DESIGNED BY
ROYCROFT ARTISTS, PRESSWORK BY LOUIS SCHELL,
& THE WHOLE DONE INTO A BOOK BY THE ROYCROFT
ERS AT THEIR SHOP, WHICH IS IN EAST AURORA, IN
THE MONTH OP NOVEMBER, IN THE YEAR MCMIII ^ ^

Every good Philistine should possess a copy
of George 'Wharton James's two books:
"INDIAN BASKETRY" and "HOW TO
MAKE INDIAN AND OTHER BASKETS."
CJThe two books bound in one volume, over
400 pages and nearly 600 illustrations. Price,
$2.50; sent post-paid, $2.75. Every style of In
dian basket, with every known weave or
stitch, is here illustrated so that a child can
copy it. CI " How to Make Indian and Other
Baskets," bound alone in cloth, $1 per copy;
postage prepaid, $1.12. 140 pages and 220 illus
trations. A complete handbook on Basket
Weaving for the teacher and weaver. CJ Every
one interested in Basket v^eaving and the
'o"n our sSy Cl^e ^agSet fotemtty
An organization of lovers of Indian Basketry
and other good things.
THE FEE IS ONE DOLLAR PER YEAR
for which each Frater receives the quarterly BASKET, a
beautifully illustrated magazine, edited by George Whar
ton James, and which contains fine engravings of Indian
Weavers, baskets, and good Indian stories, together with
preachments of the real George Wharton James flavor.
<^ Send in your subscription at once for 1904, or send a
stamped and addressed envelope for full particulars. En
close 25 cents for sample copy — no copies sent free.
Cjje Jlas^feet JFraternttp
STATION A, PASADENA, CALIFORNIA

An article made with an eye on the purchaser
is already ruined.— George Wharton James
ROYCROFT
^ntnitntt
Is for the Roycrofters.
W^e made forty of
these chairs for our
selves, and also for you
should you qare for
them. 'We call it the
2Dinma;«1R,oom Cjbair
No. 2. You may place it
in your hall^vay, though,
^ if your hallway is good
enough. Slightly curved
back, leather seat. Hand
made from quartered
oak, nineteen and one-
half inches wide, eighteen and one-half inches
deep, and forty-one and one-half inches high.
Price $10.00 each — $60.00 per half dozen. Address

The Roycrofters

EAST AURORA
NEW YORK

The" Holly Tree
BY
CHARLES DICKENS
I ERE is a Christmas Story done by

the Master at his best. This is what
George William Curtis wrote to a friend
in 1872: "It would a' been worth your
while to go a thousand miles to see and
hear Charles Dickens read 'The Holly
Tree.' Such a simple little tale, too, but
full of all the little subtleties that tug at
your heart & make chaos of your feelings."
The book is printed on "Boxmoor," from
a new font of Cheltenham type.

Bound in limp leather, silk lined, ^ 2.00
A few copies on Japan 'Vellum, bound
in three-quarters Levant, hand-tooled, 10.00
THE ROYCROFTERS ^^V^^t'i^^''^

A Little Journey t * IV /T " 1 1 ^
To the Home of J O d q U 1 11 Miller Elbert Hubbard

Also a Study of the man by George Wharton James, to which
is appended a slight study of the man \vho wrote the Study by
Fra ElbertuS, with Sundry Selected Poems by the Poet, giv
ing a taste of his quality. This book has as much individuality
as Joaquin ^imself. Q Special portraits of Miller and James.
Bound roycroftie, limp leather, silk lined, Price, $ 2.00
A few on Japan Vellum, 10.00
THE ROYCROFTERS. EAST AURORA, N. Y.

KLAw h cnuANaen

ON THE NORTHCRN PACiriC ft. R.
HiprEBLiN Opua Houae, Uvlanton, Mooi.
llBLEItf/rilBATUI, HcltDS, HODtV,
GuND orsiA HouuE. Orcu Palli, Hdp(.
BaOADVAT Tbiuteb, Bdiu, Uont.
GIUHD OfeU HoObe, Butte, HDDt.
Mahoaht Tkutu, ADBconOs, Mont.
ITxiOH Ofsu Houas. Hloaula. Moor.
RpoKi>a TBUTn, Spokaiw, Wub.
AUDiToaiDM, SpokasE. Waab.
RiMEWAT THSATXB, OaUax, Waab.
Uoico* OmA DouBB, Uoarow, Idabo.
New Tbutd. LfwbuiD, Idaho,
Valll Walla Tuutcx, Walla Walla. Waih
OrracA Houai. Blti*llk, Waab.
MAtoMic TntPLB Trkateb, Wallace. Idaha
Wam>hbb TBEATaa, Wardner. Idaho
Labsoh's THUTea. North YBKIma. Waah.
KllehbbiTM Tdratbb. EHraitmrK. Wnlh.
Tacoma TiDUTEa, Tacoma. Waih.
AinnTOtiDH. PullmAD, Waib.

CALVIH MtiLia. raiaiMi
eicK p. ¦wTTOH. viccn
JOHN COKT, sin. Mabic
VicToaiA THCAZU, Victoria, B. C.

.Qra&A Hoi;aB, New Wea
Ubck'b Theatmb, New W 
Qbahd Opgka IloDBb. Saatlte. Waati
Seattu THBA-m. Bcalite, Waab.
OLTHriA TasATSB. OirDpU, Waak.
Acua Ofxba Hooas, Abentocm. Waafc.
llODuiAM TrnxTNL Hoqnlaio. Waab. '
Bakbb TfimATCS, PMtlud. On.
IlABaoAM GaAjn>, nntlaad. On
ORCOOH SHORT LIHC
Voai Orssj Booaa, Dalle*. Or*^
Paaan Oficka Bodbi, Podlctoa. On.
lUua OMBA UoDac, Baker City On.
CoLVMBiA TasnTta, Bolae City, Idaba
Additobidm. Pocaiclto, Idaho.
TnATciKB Oiinu llonaB. Loiaa. Viak.

: SEATTLE. WASH

O'eaOi^. <mitA.. ^'^'°''

-^Sff

Sear Sir:In making my record trip of fifty-four days around the
world I used the Pennsylvania Railroad between Ne« YorJt and Chlcago.In
my journey around the globe I traveled by rail m Japan, China, Siberia,
Russia, Oermany, Holland, England and the United States, and J found
that the Pennsylvania Limited was Immeasurably ahead of any of these
other trains. Not only is your "Limited" superb In equipment, but It
brought me Into Chicago, after a 1000-mile run, five minutes ahead of
time. If you will advertise the "Pennsylvania Limited" as the "Finest
Tram In the j^rid" I will back you up In it.
Very Respectfully,
^Ojvwjji VnXLU j^.ouJ|>>A_-
Seattle Tinas. -

NOW^ KEADY

^Ke Roycroft Catalog'
For 1903-4. It is a pleasant piece of printing, giving a
list of Good Books ; it also contains some pictures of
several, fairly good men. Sent on application. Address
THE ROYCROFT SHOP, EAST AURORA, N. Y.

|LIFEMEMfiEDSin»
1 IN THE W^f9***Vf***9***99*9*^W^ i
[AMERICAN AC ADfi^
lOP IMMORTALS ?Wt
COSTS TEN DOLLARS

NO FURTHER DUES OR ASSESSMENTS, AND
NO LIABILITIES, XQUR DUTIES CONSllSt IN
LIVING UP TO YOUR IDEAL (AS NEARLY AS
POSSIBLE) AND ATTENDING THE ANN^#L
DINNER (IF CONVENIENT). VrtrjTjrjriTirjr^r

(i) The membership entitles yoa to one copy^the~
Philistine magazine for ninety-nine yearSj, but n^r
longer. (2) All the back bound volumes of "The Philistine "
we have on hand.
(3) "Little Journeys," beginning with current nijin-
bers, and all that shall be issued in future. ^
(4) Such other boots, pamphlets,' addresses and doc
ut^tirts: as the Roycrofters may elect to send you
Eye^ Little 'While. h
(5) Success, Health and Love Vibrations, sent dsiil;^'
by the Pastor or Ali Baba.
ADDRESS THE BURSAR, EAST AURORA, NEW YORK

Mi

Mitilt ^onxmti
TO THE HOMES OF EMINENT OR^TOftiSi^

Vol. XIII. DECEMBER, 1903. No. 6

By ELBERT KlIBBARI)

Single Copies^; 2.5 cents

By the Year, $3.00

TO THE HOMES OF
EM I N E N TO m&ir O RS
fli ^^ By EliBE^ HUBBARD
S tJ B J E C T S AS F O L L O W S:
I Pericles 7 Marat
9 Mark Antony.' -8 Robert Ingersolt''
3 Savonarbia . 9 Patrick Henry
4 Martin Li^her . 10 Thomas Starr King
Edmund Burke . tz Hetny V/ard Be^cii^ 1
William I>itt , »2 Wendell Phillip* -W

One booklet a m(^j^i<will >e issued as usual,;}!ii^gin-
nihg on January i&t.
The LITTLE JOURNEYS for 1903 will be strictly
de tuxe in form and Workmanship. The type. Will late a
new font of antique blackface; the initials designcfd
especially for this work ; a fiflj^Biece portrait ffprn
the original drawing made at our Shop, The b0ol^leti,
will be stitched hy hand with silk.
The price— 25 cents each, or, $3.00 for the year.

'K

Address THE Rlf^CROFTERS at their
Shop, which is at East Aurora, New Yox^t
',i'  '  '  I  ' II I  asaa^aaa^gacs^.^
Entered 9t the postoffice at East Aurora, New Yo'tk, for tranunissibn
as second-«IaM mail .matter. Copyright, xgos, by Elbert Hubbard

BOTH FEEL
What Proper Food Does For
Both Mind and Body.

Physical health, mental health, indeed almost every
thing good on this earth depend in great measure upon
proper food.
Without health, nothing is worth while, and health can
be won almost every time by proper feeding on the sci
entific food Grape-Nuts.
A California trained nurse proved this : "Three years
ago I was taken very sick, my work as a trained nurse
having worn me out both in body and mind, and medi
cine failed to relieve me at all. After seeing a number of
^physicians and specialists, and getting no relief, I was
very much discouraged and felt that I would die of gen
eral nervous and physical collapse.
" My condition was so bad I never imagined food would
help me, but on the adviceof a friend I tried Grape-Nuts.
The first package brought me so much relief that I quit
the medicines and used Grape-Nuts steadily three times
a day. The result was that within 6 months I had so com
pletely regained my strength and health that 1 was back
l^^nursing again, and I feel the improvement in my brain
*^^ power just as plainly as I do in physical strength.
f^ "After my own wonderful experience with Grape-
Nuts I have recommended it to my patients with splendid
success and it has worked wonders in the cases of many
invalids whom I have attended professionally." Name
given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich.
Look in each package for a copy of the famous little
book, " The Road to Wellville." ,. ,

As You Like It
BY
^,, WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
E have made this book as a compan
ion volume to our " Hamlet," and
expect to produce one Shakespeare play
a year until we have issued the best of
them. The type is the "Bruce Roman,"
one of the plainest and most elegant faces
ever cut. Special head-bands and orna
ments designed by Roycroft workers.
Bound solidly in boards, leather back, $ 5.00
A few on Japan Vellum, specially illu
mined and bound in three-quarters
Levant, hand-tooled, 25. 00
The Roycrofters, New'^Y^Tk!

The Book of Songs
;: BY
HEINRICH HEINE

®

SELECTION of one hundred of the
things that have made this singer's
name deathless, with a sketch of the life
of Heine by Theophile Gautier.
The" Grown-up — man or woman — who
does not read, re-read, mark, line* linger
over and love The Book of Songs, is let
ting the joy of life give him the slip.
Price, $ 2.00
A few on Japan Vellum, in three-quarters
German Marbled Calf, hand-tooled, 10.00
THE ROYOROFTEKS, East Aurora, lyT. Y.

EVERY READER Speeches, Lectures, and Letters
Of this Little Jour- Qp
hrfLrb°r^^r^" WENDELL PHILLIPS
Two volumes, 8vo. Fine Steel Portrait Frontispiece of Author. Price,
$1.50 per volume for theBEACON EDITION, which is good enough,
and $2.50 per volume for the LIBRARY EDITION, which is a little
better. Q You can get these books of any bookseller, or receive them,
prepaid, by sending the price to the Exclusive Publishers.
LEE & SHEPARD, 202 DEVONSHIRE STREET, BOSTON.
Send for Our Complete Catalogue.
Why Not You, Too?
If I can save money with one of these handy little
$5 Printing Presses, why can't you ? I print my own
cards, envelopes, circulars, etc., get them AS I want them & WHEN
I want them, and at HALF usual cost. Type-setting is easy by the
printed instructions sent. Write to the factory for illustrated cata
logue of presses, type, paper, etc.
EXCELSIOR PRESS CO., MERIDEN, CONN.
SPECIAL TO THE COGNOSCENTI
>E have a few sets of Little 'Journeys to tfy
Homes of Eminent cArtists, done superbly
specicd. The books are hand-illumined;
bound in three-quarters marbled Levant,
hand-tooled, marking very sumptuous specimens of
bibliopegistic skill. The price for the two volumes, in
a box, is Fifteen Dollars. As a Christmas, wedding, or
birthday present, or something, this set of books is
sure to supply many joyous vibrations to bibliomanic
lovers. Sent to the Elect "on suspicibn." if if if if
THE ROYCROTFERS, EAST AURORA, N. Y.

Wendell Plillllps

{Little tm\
pounnevs To tbe Homes of|
EMINENT ORATORS I
lUititten by Elbeitt
Hubbattd & done!
into a Book by tbe
Roycitofteits at tbe
$bop, iDbicb is in
East Jluttopa, neio
lYoitk, Jl. D. 19031

WHAT WORLD-WIDE BENEFACTORS THESE "IM
PRUDENT" MEN ARE! HOW PRUDENTLY MOST
MEN CREEP INTO NAMELESS GRAVES ; WHILE NOW
AND THEN ONE OR TWO FORGET THEMSELVES INTO
IMMORTALITY. — Speech on Lovejoy.

WENDELL PHILLIPS

153

AY the good Lord ever keep me from
wishing to say the last word ; and also
from assigning ranks or awarding prizes
to great men gone. However, it is a joy
to get acquainted with a noble, splendid
personality, and then introduce him to
you, or at least draw the arras, so you
can see him as he lived and worked or
nobly failed.
And if you and I understand this man it
is because we are much akin to him.
The only relationship, after all, is the
spiritual relationship. Your brother after
the flesh may not be your brother at all ;
you may live in different ^vorlds and call
to each other in strange tongues across
wide seas of misunderstandings. "Who
is my mother and who are my breth
ren?" As you understand a man, just in that
degree are you related to him. There is
a great joy in discovering kinship — for in
that moment you discover yourself, and
life consists in getting acquainted with
yourself. W^e see ourselves mirrored in
the soul of another — that is what love
is — or pretty nearly so.
If you like what I write, it is because 1
express for you the things you already

154  WENDELL PHILLIPS
know ; we are akin, our heads are in the same stratum
— ^we are breathing the same atmosphere. To the de
gree that you comprehend the character of Wendell
Phillips you are akin to him. I once thought great men
•were all ten feet high, but since I have met a few,
both in astral form and in the flesh, I have found out
differently igr if
What kind of a man vs^as Wendell Phillips ?
Very much like you and me. Blessed, very much like
you and me.
I think well of great people, I think well of myself,
and I think v^ell of you. W^e are all God's children — all
parts of the Whole — akin to Divinity.
Phillips never thought he was doing much — never took
any great pride in past performances. W^hen what you
have done in the past looks large to you, you have not
done much to-day. His hopes were so high that there
crept into his life a tinge of disappointment — some
have called it bitterness, but that is not the word —
just a touch of sadness because he was unable to do
more. This was a matter of temperament, perhaps,
but it reveals the humanity as w^ell as the divinity of
the man. There is nothing w^orse than self-compla
cency — smugosity is sin. Q Phillips was not supremely
great — if he were, how could ^ve comprehend him?
QAnd now if you will open those folding doors —
there ! that will do — thank you.

WENDELL^^ PHILLIPS  i55
WHEN was he born ? Ah, I '11 tell you— it was
in his tvsrenty-fifth year — about three in the
afternoon, by the clock, October 21st, 1835.
Qlt was an Indian summer day, warm and balmy. He
sat there reading in the window of his office on Co^rt
Street, Boston, a spick-span new law office, with four
shelves of law books bound in sheep, a green-covered
table in the centre, three arm-chairs, and on the wall
a steel engraving of "Washington Crossing the Dela
ware." if if
He was a handsome fellow, was this Wendell Phil
lips — it would a' been worth your while just to run up
the stairs and put your head in the door to look at him.
Q" Can I do anything for you ?" he would have asked.
C5"No, we just wanted to see you, that's all," we
would have replied.
He sat there at the window, his long legs crossed, a
copy of "Coke on Littleton" in his hands. His dress
was what it should be— that of a gentleman— his face
cleanly shaven, hair long, cut square and falling to his
black stock. He was the only son of Boston's first
Mayor, both to the manor and manner born, rich in
his own right; proud, handsome, strong, gentle, re
fined, educated— a Christian gentleman, heir to the
best that Boston had to give— a graduate of the Boston
Latin School, of Harvard College, of the Harvard Law
School  living with his widowed mother in a man
sion on Beacon Hill, overlooking Boston's forty-three
acres of Common !

156  ^A^ENDELL PHILLIPS
Can you imagine anything more complete in way of
endowment than all this ? Did Destiny ever do more
for mortal man ?
There he sat waiting for clients. About this time he
made the acquaintance of a cock-eyed pulchritudinous
youth, Ben Butler by name, who was errand boy in a
nearby office. It was a strange friendship — peppered
by much cross-fire whenever they met in public — to
endure loyally for a lifetime.
Clients are sure to come to the man who is not too
anxious about them — sure to come to a man like Phil
lips — a youth clothed with the graces of a Greek —
waiting on the threshold of manhood's morning.
Here is his career : a successful lawyer and leader in
society ; a member of the Legislature ; a United States
Senator, and then if he cares for it — well, well, well !
QBut in the meantime, there he sits, not with his feet
in the window or on a chair — he is a gentleman, I said,
a Boston gentleman — the flower of a gracile ancestry.
In the lazy, hazy air is the hum of autumn birds and
beetles — the hectic beauty of the dying year is over all.
The hum seems to grow — it becomes a subdued roar.
QYou have sat behind the scenes waiting for the cur
tain to rise — a thousand people are there just out of
your sight — five hundred of them are talking. It is one
high-keyed humming roar.
The roar of a mob is keyed lower — it is guttural and
approaches a growl — it seems to come in waves, a
brazen roar rising and falling — ^but a roar, full of menace.

WENDELL PHILLIPS  i57
hate, deaf to reason, dead to appeal. Q You have heard
the roar of the mob in "Julius Caesar," and stay! once
I heard the genuine article. It was in Eighty-four^
goodness gracious, I am surely getting old — it was in
a tow^n out ^A^est. I savir nothing but a pushing, cro^vd-
ing mass of men, and all I heard was that deep gut
tural roar of the beast. I could not make out what it
was all about until I saw a man climbing a telegraph
pole if if
He was carrying a rope in one hand. As he climbed
higher, the roar subsided. The climber reached the
arms that form the cross. He swung the rope over the
cross-beam and paid it out until the end was clutched
by the uplifted hands of thoSe below.
The roar arose again like an angry sea, and I saw the
figure of a human being leap twenty feet into the air
and swing and s^wirl at the end of the rope.
The roar ceased.

The lawyer laid down the bran-new book, bound in
sheep, and leaned out of the window — men were run
ning down the thoroughfare, some hatless, and at
Washington Street could be seen a black mass of hu
man beings — ^beings who had forsaken their reason
and merged their personality into a mob.
The young lawyer arose, put on his hat, locked his
office, followed down the street. His tall and muscular
form pushed its way through the mass.
Theodore Lyman, the Mayor, was standing on a barrel

158  WENDELL PHILLIPS
importuning the crovrd to disperse. His voice was lost
in the roar of the mob.
From down a stairway came a procession of Tvomen,
thirty or so, walking by twos, very pale, but calm. The
crowd gradually opened out on a stern order from
some unkno^vn person. The young la\vyer throve him
self against those who blocked the way. The women
passed on, and the crowd closed in as water closes
over a pebble dropped into the river.
The disappearance of the women seemed to heighten
the confusion: there were stones throvrn, sounds of
breaking glass — a crash on the stairway, and down the
narrow passage, \vith yells of triumph, came a crowd
of men, half dragging a prisoner, a rope around his
v^aist, his arms pinioned. The man's face was white,
his clothing disheveled and torn. His resistance was
passive — no word of entreaty or explanation escaped
his lips. A sudden jerk on the rope from the hundred
hands that clutched it, threw the man off his feet — he
fell headlong, his face struck the stones of the pave
ment, and he was dragged for twenty yards. The crowd
grabbed at him and lifted him to his feet — ^blood dripped
from his face, his hat was gone, his coat, vest and
shirt were in shreds.
The man spoke no word.
"That 's him — Garrison, the damned abolitionist!"
The words arose above the din. " Kill him ! Hang
him!" if if
Phillips saw the colonel of his militia regiment, and

WENDELL PHILLIPS  159
seizing him by the arm, said, " Order out the men to
put down this riot! "
"Fool!" said the Colonel, "don't you see our men
are in this crowd ! "
"Then order them into columns, and w^e will protect
this man."
" I never give orders unless I know they vsrill be
obeyed. Besides, this man Garrison is a rioter him
self — ^he opposes the government."
" But, do we uphold mob law — here, in Boston ! "
" Don't blame me — I have n't anything to do with this
business. I tell you, if this man Garrison had minded
his own affairs, this scene would never have occurred."
Q " And those women ? "
" Oh, they are members of the Anti-Slavery Society.
It was their holding the meeting that made the trouble.
The children followed them, hooting them through
the streets!"
"Children?"
"Yes, you know children repeat what they hear at
home — they echo the thoughts of their elders. The
children hooted them, then some one threw a stone
through a window. A crowd gathered, and here you
are!"jsr j«r
The Colonel shook himself loose from the lawyer and
followed the mob. The Mayor's counsel prevailed —
"Give the prisoner to me — I will see that he is pun
ished!" QAnd so he was dragged to the City HalL
and there locked up.

i6o  WENDELL PHILLIPS
The crowd lingered, then thinned out. The shouts
groAV less, and soon the police were able to rout the
loiterers if if
The young lavvyer v^ent back to his lawr office, but not
to study. The law looked different to him now — ^the
v^hole legal aspect of things had changed in an hour.
Q It was a pivotal point.
He had heard much of the majesty of the law, and
here he had seen the entire machinery pf justice
brushed aside.
Law ! It is the thing we make with our hands and then
fall down and worship. Men want to do things, so they
do them, and afterward they legalize them, just as we
believe things first and later hunt for reasons. Or we
illegalize the thing we do not want others to do.
Boston, standing for law and order, will not even al
low a few women to meet and discuss an economic
proposition !
Abolition is a fool idea, but we must have free speech
— that is what our Constitution is built upon ! Law is
supposed to protect free speech, even to voicing wrong
ideas ! Surely a man has a legal right to a wrong opin
ion ! A mob in Boston to put down free speech !
This young lawyer was not an Abolitionist — not he,
but he was an American, descended from the Puri
tans, with ancestors who fought in the war of the
Revolution — he believed in fair play.
His cheeks burned with shame.

WENDELL PHILLIPS  i6i
SEEN from Mount Olympus, how small and piti
ful must seem the antics of Earth— all these
churches and little sects — our laws, our argu
ments, our courts of justice, our elections, our wars !
Q Viewed across the years, the Abolition Movement
seems a small thing. It is so thoroughly dead — so far
removed from our present interests ! W^e hear a Vir
ginian praise John Brown, listen to Henry W^atterson
as he says, "The South never had a better friend than
Lincoln," or brave General Gordon, as he declares,
" W^e now know that slavery was a gigantic mistake,
and that Emerson was right when he said, ' One end
of the slave's chain is always riveted to the wrist of
the master.' "
W^e can scarcely comprehend that fifty years ago the
trinity of money, fashion and religion combined in the
hot endeavor to make human slavery a perpetuity;
that the man of the North who hinted at resisting the
return of a runaw^ay slave, was in danger of financial
ruin, social ostracism, and open rebuke from the pul
pit. The ears of Boston were so stuffed with South
Carolina cotton that they could not hear the cry of the
oppressed. Commerce was fettered by self-interest,
and law ever finds precedents and sanctions for ^vhat
commerce most desires. And as for the pulpit, it is
like the law, in that scriptural warrant is always forth
coming for what the pew wishes to do.
Slavery, theoretically, might be an error, but in
America it v^as a commercial, political, social and

i62  WENDELL PHILLIPS
religious necessity, and any man vtrho said othervrise
was an enemy of the state.
William Lloyd Garrison said otherwise. But who was
W^illiam Lloyd Garrison ? Only an ignorant and fanat
ical free-thinker from the country town of Newbury-
port, Mass. He had started four or five newspapers,
and all had failed, because he would not keep his pen
quiet on the subject of slavery.
New England must have cotton, and cotton could not
be produced without slaves. Garrison was a fool. All
good Christians refused to read his vile sheet, and
business men declined to advertise with him or to
subscribe to his paper.
However, he continued to print things, telling what
he thought of slavery. In 1831, he was issuing a peri
odical called "The Liberator."
I saw a partial file of "The Liberator" recently, at
the Boston Public Library. They say it is very pre
cious, and a custodian stood by and tenderly turned
the leaves for me. I was not allovsred even to touch it,
and when I was through looking at the tattered pages,
they locked it up in a fire-proof safe.
The sheets of different issues were of various sizes,
and the paper was of several grades in quality, show
ing that stock was scarce, and that there was no sys
tem in the office.
There surely was not much of a subscription list, and
we hear of Garrison's going around and asking for
contributions. But interviews were what he really

WENDELL PHILLIPS  163
ivished, as much as subscribers. He let the preachers
defend the peculiar institution — to print a man's fool
remarks is the most cruel way of indicting him. Among
others Garrison called on v^as Dr. Lyman Beecher,
then thundering against Unitarianism.
Garrison got various clergymen to commit themselves
in favor of slavery, and he quoted them verbatim,
whereas, on this subject, the clergy of the North
wished to remain silent — ^very silent.
Dr. Beecher was wary — all he would say was, "I
have too many irons in the fire now ! "
"You better take them all out and put this one in,"
said the seedy editor.
But Dr. Beecher made full amends later — he supplied
a son and a daughter to the Abolition Movement, and
this caused Carlos Martyn to say, "The old man's
loins were wiser than his head."
Garrison had gotten himself thoroughly disliked in
Boston. The Mayor once replied to a letter inquiring
about him, "He is a nobody and lives in a rat hole."
QBut Garrison managed to print his paper, rather ir
regularly, to be sure, but he printed it. From one room
he moved into two, and a straggling company, calling
themselves "The Anti-Slavery Society," used his
office for a meeting place.
And now, behold the office mobbed, the type pitched
into the street, the Society driven out, and the fanat
ical editor, bruised and battered, safely lodged in jail
—writing editorials with a calm resolution and a will

i64  AVENDELL PHILLIPS
that never faltered. Q And W^endell Phillips ? He was
pacing the streets, wondering whether it was worth
while to be respectable and prosperous in a city where
violence took the place of law vi^hen logic failed.
To him. Garrison had wron — Garrison had not been an
swered: only beaten, bullied, abused and thrust behind
prison bars.
W^endell Phillips' cheeks burned with shame.

GARRISON was held a prisoner for several days.
QThe Mayor would have punished the man,
Pilate-like,- to appease public opinion, but
there was no law to cover the case — no illegal offense
had been committed. Garrison demanded a trial, but
the officials said that they had locked him up merely
to protect him, and that he was a base ingrate. Offi
cial Boston now looked at the whole matter as a good
thing to forget. The prisoner's cell door was left open,
in the hope that he would escape, just as, later, George
Francis Train enjoyed the distinction of being the only
man who was literally kicked down the stone steps of
the Tombs.
Garrison was thrust out of limbo, with a warning, and
a hint that Boston-town was a good place for him to
emigrate from.
But Garrison neither ran away nor went into hiding
— he calmly began a canvass to collect money to refit
his printing office. Boston had treated him well— the

W^ENDELL PHILLIPS  165
blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church — he
would stay. Men who fatten on difficulties are hard to
subdue. Phillips met Garrison shortly after his re
lease, quite by chance, at the house of Henry G.
Chapman. Garrison was six years older than Phillips
— tall, angular, intellectual, and lacked humor. He also
lacked culture. Phillips looked at him and smiled
grimly if if
But in the Chapman household was still another per
son, more or less interesting, a Miss Ann Terry
Greene. She ivas an orphan and an heiress — a ward of
Chapman's. Young Phillips had never before met Miss
Greene, but she had seen him. She was one of the
Tvomen who came down the stairs from the " Liber
ator" office, when the mob collected. She had seen
the tall form of Phillips, and had noticed that he used
his elbows to good advantage in opening up the gang
way j«r #y
" It was a little like a cane-rush — your campus practice
served you in good stead," said the lady, and smiled.
QAnd Phillips listened, perplexed — that a young
woman like this, frail, intellectual, of good family,
should mix up in fanatical schemes for liberating black
men. He could not understand it !
" But you were there — you helped get us out of the
difficulty. And if worse had come to worst, I might
have appealed to you personally for protection ! "
And the young lawyer stammered, "I would have
been only too happy," or something like that. The lady

i66  W^ENDELL PHILLIPS
had the best of the logic, and a thin attempt to pity
her on account of the unfortunate occurrence, went off
by the right oblique and was lost in space.
These Abolitionists were a queer lot !
Not long after that meeting at Chapman's, the young
lawyer had legal business at Greenfield, that must be
looked after. Now Greenfield is one hundred miles
from Boston — ^but then it was the same distance from
tide-water that Omaha is now — that is to say, a two-
days' journey.
The day was set. The stage left every morning at nine
o'clock from the Bowdoin Tavern in Bowdoin Square.
A young fellow by the name of Charles Sumner w^as
going v^ith Phillips, but at the last moment was de
tained by other business. That his chum could not go
was a disappointment to Phillips — he paced the stone-
pavcd court-way of the tavern v^ith clouded brow. All
around v^as the bustle of travel, and tearful friends
bidding folks good-bye, and the romantic rush of stage
coach land.
The ease and luxury of travel have robbed it of its
poetry — Ruskin was right !
But it did n't look romantic to W^endell Phillips just
then — ^his chum had failed him — the weather was cold,
two days of hard jolting lay ahead. And — " Ah ! yes —
it is Miss Greene ! and Miss Grew, and Mr. Alvord.
To Greenfield ? why, how fortunate ! "
Obliging strangers exchanged seats, so our friends
could be together — passengers found their places on

W^ENDELL PHILLIPS  167
top or inside, bundles and bandboxes were packed
away, harness chains rattled, a long whip sang through
the air, and the driver, holding a big bunch of lines in
one hand, swung the six horses, with careless grace,
out of Bowdoin Square, and turned the leaders' heads
towards Cambridge. The post-horn tooted merrily,
dogs barked, and stable-boys raised a good-bye cheer!
Q Out past Harvard Square they went, through Arling-'
ton and storied Lexington — on to Concord — through
Fitchburg, to Greenfield.
It does n't take long to tell it, but that was a wonder
ful trip for Phillips — the greatest and most important
journey of his life, he said forty years later.
Miss Grew lived in Greenfield and had been down to
visit Miss Greene. Mr. Alvord was engaged to Miss
Grew, and wanted to accompany her home, but he
could n't exactly, you know, unless Miss Greene went
along if if
So Miss Greene obliged them. The girls knew the day
Phillips was going, and hastened their plans a trifle,
so as to take the same stage— at least that is what
Charles Sumner said.
They did n't tell Phillips, because a planned excursion
on part of these young folks would n't have been just
right— Beacon Hill would not have approved. But
when they had bought their seats and met at the stage-
yard — why, that was a different matter.
Besides, Mr. Alvord and Miss Grew were engaged,
and Miss Greene was a cousin of Miss Grew— there !

i68  WENDELL PHILLIPS
Q Let me here say that I am quite aware that long
after Miss Grew became Mrs. Alvord, she wrote a
most charming little book about Ann Terry Greene,
in which she defends the woman against any suspicion
that she plotted and planned to snare the heart of
Wendell Phillips, on the road to Greenfield. The de
fense was done in love, but was unnecessary. Ann
Terry Greene needs no vindication. As for her snaring
the heart of W^endell Phillips, I rest solidly on this:
She did.
'Whether Miss Greene coolly planned that trip to
Greenfield, I cannot say, but I hope so.
And, anyway, it was destiny — it had to be.
This man and woman were made for each other — ^they
were " elected " before the foundations of Earth were
laid if if
The first few hours out, they were very gay. Later,
they fell into serious conversation. The subject was
Abolition. Miss Greene knevr the theme in all of its
ramifications and parts — its history, its difficulties, its
dangers, its ultimate hopes. Phillips soon saw that
all of his tame objections had been made before and
answered. Gradually the horror of human bondage
swept over him, and against this came the magnifi
cence of freedom and of giving freedom. By evening,
it came to him that all of the immortal names in
history were those of men who had fought liberty's
battle. That evening, as they sat around the crackling
fire attheFitchburgTavern,they did not talk — a point

WENDELL PHILLIPS  169
had been reached wrhere words v/ere superfluous — the
silence sufficed. At day-break the next morning the
journey was continued. There was conversation, but
voices ^vere keyed lower. W^hen the stage mounted a
steep hill they got out and walked. Melancholy had
taken place of mirth. Both felt that a great and mys
terious change had come over their spirits — their
thought viras fused. Miss Greene had suffered social
obloquy on account of her attitude on the question of
slavery — to share this obloquy seemed now the one
thing desirable to Phillips. It is a great joy to share
disgrace with the right person. The woman had intel
lect, education, self-reliance — and passion. There was
an understanding between them. And yet no word of
tenderness had been spoken. An avowal formulated
invyords is a cheap thing, and a spoken proposal goes
with a cheap passion. The love that makes the silence
eloquent and fills the heart with a melody too sacred
to voice, is the true token. O God! we thank thee for the
thoughts and feelings that are beyond speech.

WHEN it became known that W^endell Phil
lips, the most promising of Boston's young
sons, had turned Abolitionist, Beacon Hill
rent its clothes and put ashes on its head.
On the question of slavery, the first families of the
North stood with the first families of the South— the
rights of property were involved, as well as the ques-

170  W^ENDELL PHILLIPS
tion of caste. Q Let one of the scions of V^all Street
avow himself an anarchist and the outcry of horror
would not be greater than it was when young Phil
lips openly declared himself an Abolitionist. His im
mediate family were in tears; the relatives said they
were disgraced; cousins cut him dead on the street,
and his name was stricken from the list of "invited
guests." The social-column editors ignored him, and
worst of all, his clients fled.
The biographers are too intensely partisan to believe,
literally, and when one says, "He left a large and
lucrative practice that he might devote himself," etc.,
etc., we better reach for the Syracuse product.
Wendell Phillips never had a large and lucrative prac
tice, and if he had, he would not have left it. His little
law business was the kind that all fledgelings get — the
kind that big lawyers do not want, and so they pass it
over to the boys. Doctors are alvrays turning pauper
patients over to the youngsters, and so in successful
law offices there is more or less of this semi-charitable
work to do. Business houses also have fag-end vrork
that they give to beginners, as kind folks give bones to
Fido. Wendell Phillips' law work was exactly of this
contingent kind — big business and big fees only go to
big men and tried.
La^v is a business, and lavryers v^ho succeed are busi
ness men. Social distinction has its pull in all profes
sions and all arts, and the man who can afford to affront
society and hope to succeed is as one in a million.

^A^ENDELL PHILLIPS  m
Lawyers and business men were not so troubled about
Wendell Phillips' inward beliefs as they were in the
fact that he was a fool — he had flung away his chances
of getting on in the world. They ceased to send him
business — he had no work — no callers — folks he used
to know were noAv strangely near-sighted.
Phillips did n't quit the practice of law, any more than
he withdrew from society — both law and society quit
him. And then he made a virtue of necessity and boldly
resigned his commission as a lawyer — he would not
longer be bound to protect the Constitution that up
held the right of a slave-owner to capture his "property' '
in Massachusetts.
He and Ann talked this over at length— they had little
else to do. They excommunicated society, and W^en-
dell Phillips became an outlaw, in the same way that
the James boys became outlaws — through accident,
and not through choice. Social disgrace is never
sought, and obloquy is not a thing to covet — these
things may come, and usually they mean a smother-
blanket to all worldly success.
But Ann and Wendell had their love ; and each had a
bank account, and then they had pride that proved a
prophylactic 'gainst the clutch of oblivion.
On October 12th, 1837, the outlaws, Ann and Wendell,
were married. It was a quiet wedding— guests were
not invited because it was not pleasant to court cyn
ical regrets, and kinsmen were noticeable by their
absence.

172  WENDELL PHILLIPS
Proscription has its advantages — for one thing, it binds
human hearts like hoops of steel. Yet it vras not neces
sary here, for there was no waning of the honeymoon
during that forty-odd years of married life.
But scarcely had the petals fallen from the orange
blossoms, before an event occurred that marked an
other mile-stone in the career of Phillips.
At St. Louis, the Rev. E. P. Lovejoy, a Presbyterian
clergyman, had been mobbed and his printing office
sacked, because he had expressed himself on the sub
ject of slavery. Lovejoy then moved up to Alton, Illi
nois, on the other side of the river, on free soil, and
here he sought to re-establish his ne'wspaper.
But he was to benefit the cause in another v^ay than
by printing editorials. The place was attacked, the
presses broken into fragments, the type flung into the
Mississippi River, and Lovejoy was killed.
A tremor of horror ran through the North — it was not
the question of slavery — no, it was the right of free
speech.
A meeting was called at Faneuil Hall to consider the
matter and pass fitting resolutions. There was some
thing beautifully ironical in Boston interesting herself
concerning the doings of a mob a thousand miles away,
especially when Boston, herself, had done about the
same thing only two years before.
Boston preferred to forget — but somebody would not
let her. Just who called the meeting, no one seemed to
know. The word "Abolition" was not used on the

V^ENDELL PHILLIPS  i73
placards — "free speech" was the shibboleth. The hall
had been leased, and the assembly was to occur in the
forenoon. The principal actors evidently anticipated
serious trouble if the meeting was at night.
The authorities sought to discourage the gathering, but
this only advertised it. At the hour set, the place-rr-.
"the Cradle of Liberty" — was packed.
The crowd was made up of three classes, the Aboli
tionists — and they were in the minority — the mob who
hotly opposed them, and the curious and indifferent
people who wanted to see the fireworks.
Many women were in the audience, and a dozen cler
gymen on the platform — this gave respectability to the
assemblage. The meeting opened tamely enough with
a trite talk by a Unitarian clergyman, and followed
along until the resolutions were read. Then there were
cries of, "Table them! " — the matter was of no im
portance.A portly figure was seen making its way to the plat
form. It was the Hon. James T. Austin, Attorney-
General of the State. He was stout, florid, ready of
tongue — a practical stump-speaker and withal a good
deal of a popular favorite. The crowd cheered him —
he caught them from the start. His intent was to ex
plode the whole thing into a laugh, or else end it in a
row — he did n't care which.
He pooh-poohed the whole affair ; and referred to the
slaves as a menagerie of lions, tigers, hyenas— a jack
ass or two— and a host of monkeys, which the fool

174  WENDELL PHILLIPS
Abolitionists were trying to turn loose. He regretted
the death of Lovejoy, but his taking off should be a
vtrarning to all good people — they should be la^v-abiding
and mind their own business. He moved that the res
olutions be tabled.
The applause that followed showed that if a vote were
then taken the Attorney- General's motion would have
prevailed if if
"Answer him, Wendell, answer him!" whispered
Ann, excitedly, and before the Attorney-General had
bowed himself from the platform, ^Vendell Phillips
had sprung upon the stage and stood facing the audi
ence. There w^ere cries of, " Vote ! vote ! " — the mob-
ocrats wanted to cut the matter short. Still others
shouted, "Fair play! Let us hear the boy!" The
young man stood there, calm, composed — handsome
in the strength of youth. He waited until the audience
came to him and then he spoke in that dulcet voice
— deliberate, measured, faultless — every sentence
spaced. The charm of his speech caught the curiosity
of the crowd. People did not know whether he was go
ing to sustain the Attorney-General or assail him. From
compliments and generalities he moved off into bitter
sarcasm. He riddled the cheap wit of his opponent; tore
his logic to tatters and held the pitiful rags of reason
up before the audience. There w^ere cries of, "Trea
son!" "Put him out!" Phillips simply smiled and
waited for the frenzy to subside. The speaker who
has aroused his hearers into a tumult of either dissent

^VENDELL PHILLIPS  i75
or approbation has won — and Phillips did both. He
spoke for thirty minutes and finished in a whirlwind of
applause. The Attorney-General had disappeared, and
those of his followers ^who remained v^ere strangely
silent. The resolutions v^ere passed in a shout of ac
clamation if if
The fame of Wendell Phillips as an orator was made^
Father Taylor once said, " If Emerson goes to hell, he
will start emigration in that direction." Andjiyam-the-
day of that first Faneuil Hall speech W^endell Phillips
gradually caused Abolitionism in New England to be
come respectable.

PHILLIPS was twenty-seven years old when he
gave that first great speech, and for just twenty-
seven years he continued to speak on the subject
of slavery. He was an agitator — he was a man who
divided men. He supplied courage to the weak, argu
ments to the many and sent a chill of hate and fear
through the hearts of the enemy. And just here is 3
good place to say that your radical — ^your fire-eater, agi
tator, & revolutionary who dips his pen in aqua fortis,
& punctuates with blood, is almost without exception,'!
met socially, a very gentle, modest and suave individ
ual. William Lloyd Garrison, W^endell Phillips, Horace
Greeley, Fred Douglass, George William Curtis, & even
John Brown, were all men with low, musical voices
and modest ways— men who would not tread on an

176  WENDELL PHILLIPS
insect nor harm a toad. Q When the fight had been
won — the Emancipation Proclamation issued — there
were still other fights ahead. The habit of Phillips'
life had become fixed.
He and Ann lived in that plain little home on Exeter
Street, and to this home of love he constantly turned
for rest and inspiration.
At the close of the war he found his fortune much im
paired, and he looked to the Lyceum Stage — the one
thing for which he was so eminently fitted.
It was about the year 1880 a callow interviewer asked
him who his closest associates were. The answer
was, "My colleagues are hackmen and hotel clerks;
and I also know every conductor, brakeman and engi
neer on every railroad in America. My home is in the
caboose, and my business is establishing trains."
I heard Wendell Phillips speak but once. I was about
twelve years of age, and my father and I had ridden
ten miles across the wind-swept prairie in the face of
a winter storm.
It was midnight when we reached home, but I could
nq*,sleep until I had told my mother all about it. I re-
nSember the hall was packed, and there were many
gas lights, "and on the stage were a dozen men — all
very great, rrty father said. One man arose and spoke.
He lifted his hands, raised his voice, stamped his foot,
and I thought he surely was a very great man. He was
just introducing the real speaker.
Then the Real Speaker walked slowly down to the

W^ENDELL PHILLIPS  i77
front of the stage and stood very still. And everybody
was awful quiet — no one coughed, nor shuffled his feet,
nor whispered — I never knew a thousand folks could
be so still. I could hear my heart beat — I leaned over
to listen and I wondered what his first words would
be, for I had promised to remember them for my
mother. And the words were these — " My dear friends:
W^e have met here to-night to talk about the Lost
Arts." * * * * That is just what he said— I '11 not de
ceive you — and it was n't a speech at all — he just talked
to us. We v^ere his dear friends — he said so, and a
man with a gentle, quiet voice like that would not call
us his friends if he was n't our friend.
He had found out some wonderful things and he had
just come to tell us about them ; about how thousands
of years ago men worked in gold and silver and ivory;
hov^ they dug canals, sailed strange seas, built won
derful palaces, carved statues and wrote books on the
skins of animals. He just stood there and told us about
these things — he stood still, with one hand behind him,
or resting on his hip, or at his side, and the other hand
motioned a little — that was all. W^e expected every
minute he would burst out and make a speech, but he
did n't — he just talked. There was a big yellow pitcher •
and a tumbler on the table, but he did n't drink once,
because you see he did n't work very hard — he just
talked — ^he talked for two hours. I know it was two
hours, because we left home at six o'clock, got to the
hall at eight, and reached home at midnight. We came

178  WENDELL PHILLIPS
home as fast as we went, and if it took us two hours
to come home, and he began at eight, he must have
been talking for two hours. I did n't go to sleep — did n't
nod once if if
V/e hoped he would make a speech before he got
through, but he did n't. He just talked, and I under
stood it all. Father held my hand — we laughed a little
in places, at others we wanted to cry, but did n't — ^but
most of the time we just listened. We were going to
applaud, but forgot it. He called us his dear friends.
Q I have heard thousands of speeches since that ^vin-
ter night in Illinois. Very few indeed can I recall, and
beyond the general theme, that speech by W^endell
Phillips has gone from my memory. But I remember
the presence and attitude and voice of the man as
though it were but yesterday. The calm courage, de
liberation, beauty and strength of the speaker — his
knowledge, his gentleness, his friendliness! I had
heard many sermons, and some had terrified me. This
time I had expected to be thrilled, too, and so I sat
very close to my father and felt for his hand. And here
it was all just quiet joy^I understood it all. I was
pleased withTnysfeTf; and being pleased with myself, I
was pleased with the speaker. He was the biggest and
best man I had ever seen — ^the first real man.
It is no small thing to be a man !

WENDELL PHILLIPS

179

IN 1853, Emerson said the reason Phillips was the
best public speaker in America was because he
had spoken every day for fourteen years.
This observation did n't apply to Phillips at all, but
Emerson used Phillips to hammer home a great gen
eral truth, which was that practice makes perfect.
Emerson, like all the rest of us, had certain pet theo
ries, which he was constantly bolstering by analogy
and example. He had Phillips in mind when he said
that the best drill for an orator was a course of mobs.
Q But the cold fact remains that Phillips never made
a better speech, even after fourteen years daily prac
tice, than that reply to Attorney-General Austin, at
Faneuil Hall.
He gave himself, and it was himself full-armed and at
his best. All the conditions were exactly right — there
was hot opposition ; and there also was love and en
couragement.His opponent, with brag, bluster, pomposity, cheap
wit and insincerity served him as a magnificent foil.
Never again were wind and tide so in his favor.
It is opportunity that brings out the great man, but he
only is great who prepares for the opportunity — who
knows it ^vill come — and who seizes upon it when it
arrives.In this speech, VS^endell Phillips reveals himself at
his best — it has the same ring of combined courage,
culture and sincerity that he showed to the last.rCTear
thinking and clear speaking marked the man.'Taine

ifo  WENDELL PHILLIPS
says the style is the man — the Phillips style was all in
that first speech, and here is a sample :
To draw the conduct of our ancestors into a precedent
for mobs, for a right to resist laws we ourselves have
enacted, is an insult to their memory. The difference
between the excitement of those days and our own,
•which this gentleman in kindness to the latter has
overlooked, is simply this : the men of that day went
for the right, as secured by laws. They were the peo
ple rising to sustain the laws and constitution of the
province. The rioters of our day go for their own wills,
right or wrong. Sir, when I heard the gentlemen lay
down principles Tvhich place the murderers of Alton
side by side with Otis and Hancock, with Quincy and
Adams, I thought those pictured lips [ pointing to the
portraits in the hall ] vi^ould have broken into voice to
rebuke the recreant American — the slanderer of the
dead!
The gentleman said he should sink into insignificance
if he condescended to gainsay the principles of these
resolutions. For the sentiments he has uttered, on soil
consecrated by the prayers of Puritans and the blood
of patriots, the earth should have yawned and swal
lowed him up!
Allusion has been made to what lawyers understand
very well— the "conflict of laws." W^e are told that
nothing but the Mississippi River runs between St.
Louis and Alton ; and the conflict of laws somehow or
other gives the citizens of the former a right to find
fault with the defender of the press for publishing his
opinions so near their limits. W^ill the gentleman ven
ture that argument before lawyers ? How the laws of
the two states could be said to come into conflict in
such circumstances, I question whether any lawyer in

^WENDELL PHILLIPS  i8i
this audience can explain or understand. No matter
whether the line that divides one sovereign State from
another be an imaginary one or ocean wide, the mo
ment you cross it, the State you leave is blotted out of
existence, so far as you are concerned. The Czar might
as well claim to control the deliberations of Faneuil
Hall, as the laws of Missouri demand reverence, or
the shadow of obedience, from an inhabitant of Illinois.
Q Sir, as I understand this affair, it was not an indi
vidual protecting his property ; it was not one body of
armed men assaulting another, and making the streets
of a peaceful city run blood with their contentions. It
did not bring back the scenes in some old Italian cities,
where family met family, and faction met faction, and
mutually trampled the lav^s under foot. No ; the men
in that house were regularly enrolled under the sanc
tion of the mayor. There being no militia in Alton,
about seventy men were enrolled with the approba
tion of the mayor. These relieved each other every
other night. About thirty men were in arms on the
night of the sixth, when the press was landed. The
next evening it was not thought necessary to sum
mon more than half that number ; among these was
Lovejoy. It was, therefore, you perceive. Sir, the police
of the city resisting rioters — civil government breast
ing itself to the shock of lawless men. Here is no
question about the right of self-defence. It is, in fact,
simply this : Has the civil magistrate a right to put
down a riot? Some persons seem to imagine that an
archy existed at Alton from the commencement of
these disputes. Not at all. " No one of us," says an eye
witness and a comrade of Lovejoy, " has taken up arms
during these disturbances but at the command of the
mayor." Anarchy did not settle down on that devoted
city till Lovejoy breathed his last. Till then the law.

i82  WENDELL PHILLIPS
represented in his person, sustained itself against its
foes. When he fell, civil authority was trampled under
foot. He had " planted himself on his constitutional
rights " — appealed to the laws — claimed the protection
of the civil authority — taken refuge under "the broad
shield of the Constitution. 'When through that he was
pierced and fell, he fell but one sufferer in a common
catastrophe." He took refuge under the banner of lib
erty — amid its folds; and when he fell, its glorious
stars and stripes, the emblem of free constitutions,
around which cluster so many heart-stirring memories,
were blotted out in the martyr's blood.
If, Sir, I had adopted what are called peace principles,
I might laihent the circumstances of this case. But all
of you who believe, as I do, in the right and duty of
magistrates to execute the laws, join with me and
brand as base hypocrisy the conduct of those who as
semble year after year on the Fourth of July, to fight
over battles of the Revolution, and yet " damn with
faint praise," or load with obloquy, the memory of this
man, v^ho shed his blood in defence of life, liberty,
and the freedom of the press !
Imprudent to defend the freedom of the press ! \Vhy ?
Because the defence vras unsuccessful ? Does success
gild crime into patriotism, and vrant of it change heroic
self-devotion to imprudence ? Was Hampden impru
dent when he drew the sword and threw away the
scabbard ? Yet he, judged by that single hour, was un
successful. After a short exile, the race he hated sat
again upon the throne.
Imagine yourself present when the first ne^vs of Bun
ker Hill battle reached a New England town. The
table would have run thus : " The patriots are routed ;
the redcoats victorious ; Warren lies dead upon the
field." With what scorn would that Tory have been

WENDELL PHILLIPS  183
received, who should have charged W^arren with im
prudence ! who should have said that, bred as a phy
sician, he was " out of place " in the battle, and " died
as the fool dieth ! " [Great applause.] How would the
intimation have been received, that "Warren and his
associates should have waited a better time ? But, if
success be indeed the only criterion of prudence, Res-
pice finem— wait till the end.
Presumptuous to assert the freedom of the press on
American ground ! Is the assertion of such freedom
before the age ? So much before the age as to leave
one no right to make it because it displeases the com
munity ? Who invents this libel on his country ? It is
this very thing which entitles Lovejoy to greater
praise ; the disputed right which provoked the Revolu
tion — taxation without representation — is far beneath
that for which he died. [Here there was a strong and
general expression of disapprobation.] One word, gen
tlemen. As much as Thought is better than Money, so
much is the cause in which Lovejoy died nobler than
a mere question of taxes. James Otis thundered in this
hall when the king did but touch his Pocket. Imagine,
if you can, his indignant eloquence had England of
fered to put a gag upon his Lips. [Great applause.]
The question that stirred the Revolution touched our
civil interests. This concerns us not only as citizens,
but as immortal beings. W^rapped up in its fate, saved
or lost with it, are not only the voice of the states
man, but the instructions of the pulpit and the progress
of our faith.
The clergy "marvelously out of place" ^vhere free
speech is battled for — liberty of speech on national
sins ? Does the gentlemen remember that freedom to
preach \vas first gained, dragging in its train freedom
to print ? I thank the clergy here present, as I rever-

Tragedy of Hamlet
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