NAPOLEON.
 
 L J 
 
 FAMOUS 
 
 LEADERS AMONG MEN 
 
 BY 
 
 SARAH KNOWLES BOLTON 
 
 Jl 
 
 AUTHOR OF POOR BOYS WHO BECAME FAMOUS, GIRLS WHO BECAME FAMOU.' 
 "FAMOUS AMERICAN AUTHORS," "FAMOUS AMERICAN STATESMEN," 
 " FAMOUS MEN OF SCIENCE," " FAMOUS EUROPEAN ARTISTS,'' 
 "FAMOUS TYPES' OF WOMANHOOD," "STORIES FROM LIFE," 
 "FROM HEART AND NATURE" (POEMS), "FAMOUS 
 ENGLISH AUTHORS," " FAMOUS ENGLISH 
 STATESMEN," ETC., ETC. 
 
 The longer I live, the more certain I am that the great difference between men, 
 the feeble and the powerful, the great and the insignificant, is energy and invincible 
 determination. SIR THOMAS FOWELL BUXTON. 
 
 NEW YORK: 46 EAST MTH STREET 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 
 
 BOSTON: 100 PURCHASE STREET
 
 COPYKIGIIT, 1804, 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWKLL & Co. 
 
 C. J. PKTEBS & SON, 
 
 TYI-E-SKTTKK8 AND El-KCTROTYPERS, 
 
 1 Hum STBEKT, BOSTON. .
 
 TO MY SON 
 
 Itnofoles ISoltotu
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 NAPOLEON said, "My maxim has always been, a career 
 open to talent without distinction of birth." It will be 
 seen in these pages that most of these men rose to leader- 
 ship by their own efforts. Napoleon was poor, and often 
 without employment in early life, but his industry, good 
 judgment, will, and ambition carried him to the heights 
 of power. 
 
 Nelson was the son of a minister, whose salary did not 
 support his numerous family, but his boy had the energy 
 and force that won success. 
 
 Bunyan, a travelling tinker, twelve years a prisoner in 
 Bedford jail, could, while poor and in prison, write a 
 book that is read more than any other in the world, save 
 the Bible. 
 
 Arnold, through love for his work, and his untiring 
 energy and good sense, became the. ideal teacher. 
 
 Phillips and Beecher, both eloquent, the latter begin- 
 ning his labors on a salary of f>200 a year, were led 
 into their great careers through a great motive, their 
 hatred of slavery. 
 
 Kingsley, the Christian socialist, knowing that the 
 pulpit must help in the solution of the labor problem, 
 lived and preached the brotherhood of man. 
 
 Sherman, the son of a widow, adopted by his father's
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 friend, had early failures, and won his place of distinc- 
 tion with Grant and Sheridan by his own ability. 
 
 Spurgeon, whose work was marvellous, was poor, and 
 without a college education. 
 
 Phillips Brooks, whose death was an irreparable loss, 
 made his way even more by his sincerity and unselfish- 
 ness than by his eloquence. 
 
 Napoleon, who was especially fond of biography and 
 history, was always eager to learn what qualities pro- 
 duced greatness or success. Perhaps some will find it 
 interesting to trace in these pages what enabled these 
 men to be leaders in various fields. 
 
 S. K. B.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE . " 1 
 
 HORATIO NELSON 87 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN 123 
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD 149 
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS 175 
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER 217 
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY 261 
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN 288 
 
 CHARLES HADDON SPUROEON 333 
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS , 3(JS
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 " THE series of Napoleon's successes is absolutely the 
 most marvellous in history. No one can question that 
 he leaves far behind the Turennes, Marlboroughs, and 
 Fredericks ; but when we bring him up for comparison 
 an Alexander, a Hannibal, a Caesar, a Charles, we find in 
 the single point of marvellousness Napoleon surpassing 
 them all. . . . 
 
 "Every one of those heroes was born to a position 
 of exceptional advantage. Two of them inherited 
 thrones; Hannibal inherited a position royal in all but 
 the name ; Caesar inherited an eminent position in a great 
 empire. But Napoleon, who rose as high as any of 
 them, began life as an obscure provincial, almost as a 
 man without a country. It is this marvellousness which 
 paralyzes our judgment. We seem to see at once a 
 genius beyond all estimate, a unique character, -and a 
 fortune utterly unaccountable." 
 
 Thus wrote John Ilobert Seeley, Professor wf Modern 
 History in the University of Cambridge, of the man 
 whom he regarded as the greatest enemy England has 
 ever known. 
 
 Napoleon has been more praised and villified, probably, 
 than any man in history. Lanfrey, though careful as to 
 facts, and Taine, are bitter, always ready to impute sin- 
 ister motives. John S. C. Abbott is adulatory ; Walter 
 
 1
 
 2 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 Scott cannot be impartial; and Bourrienne, the discarded 
 private secretary, Madame de Remusat, and the Duchess 
 d'Abrantes, must be read with allowance for prejudice. 
 Thiers, in his twenty volumes on "The Consulate and the 
 Empire," gives a most valuable picture of the times, 
 friendly to the great leader ; John Codman Ropes's 
 "First Napoleon" is able; and the life by William 
 O'Connor Morris of Oxford is generally fair and inter- 
 esting. 
 
 Napoleon Bonaparte was born at Ajaccio, in the Island 
 of Corsica, Aug. 15, 17G9. This date has been dis- 
 puted by some authors, who claim that Napoleon was 
 born Jan. 7, 1768. Colonel Jung, in "Bonaparte et 
 son Temps," thinks the dates of birth of Napoleon 
 and his brother Joseph were exchanged by the parents, 
 who wished, in 1778, to send Napoleon to a military 
 school at Brienne supported by the State, and he must 
 needs be under ten years of age. 
 
 As Corsica became subject to France in June, 1709, 
 some persons believe that Napoleon himself changed the 
 date of his birth from 1708 to 1709, that he might appear 
 to the French nation as a French subject ; but the date, 
 Aug. 15, 1709, is usually accepted as correct. 
 
 The Bonaparte family were originally from the nobility 
 of Florence, where they had taken a somewhat prominent 
 part in politics and literature. They had lost their 
 fortune ; and Charles Bonaparte, the father of Napoleon, 
 earned his living by the law. He was an eloquent man, 
 and an adjutant under Pasquale Paoli, a patriot of Cor- 
 sica. This island, in the fourteenth century, was under 
 Genoa. When it gained its independence under Paoli, 
 such rights as Genoa still possessed she sold to France. 
 As a result, in 1709 a French army of twenty -two thou-
 
 NAPOLEON EON APATITE. 3 
 
 sand subjugated the island, and Faoli fled to England, 
 where he lived for twenty years. 
 
 Charles Bonaparte, at eighteen, married a girl not yet 
 fifteen, Letizia Kamolini, descended from a noble family 
 of Naples, a person of unusual beauty and strength of 
 character. Although so young, she entered heartily into 
 the warfare for Corsican independence, and shared the 
 perils of her husband at the front. 
 
 Napoleon was the fourth of her thirteen children, the 
 eldest, a son, and the second, a daughter, both dying 
 young. He was born in the midst of Avar. He wrote 
 Paoli, in 1789, when he was twenty years old, " I was 
 born when my country was sinking; the cries of the 
 dying, the groans of the oppressed, and the tears of 
 despair surrounded my cradle from my birth." 
 
 The Duchess d'Abrantes tells this story of Napoleon's 
 boyhood. When he was seven years old, being accused 
 by one of his sisters of eating a basket of grapes and 
 figs, although he denied the offence, he was whipped 
 and kept on bread and cheese for three days. 
 
 On the fourth day a lit'tle friend of the family arrived 
 at the home, and confessed that she and Napoleon's 
 sister, Marianna (afterward Elisa) had eaten the fruit. 
 The lad was asked why he had not accused his sister, 
 and replied that he suspected that she was guilty, but 
 said nothing out of consideration for the friend. 
 
 After the submission of Corsica to France in 1700, 
 Count Marboeuf was appointed viceroy of the island. 
 He became a friend of the Bonapartes ; and Charles, the 
 father, was made king's assessor to the Judicial Court for 
 Ajaccio. Through MarTxBuf's influence three of the 
 Bonaparte children were placed in fine schools, Joseph, 
 Marianna, and Napoleon, the last at the military school
 
 4 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 of Brienne, near Paris. Here he remained for five years. 
 He was a quiet, studious lad, devoted to Plutarch's 
 Lives and Caesar's Commentaries. He was always 
 trying to find out what made certain men great. He 
 was easily at the head of his class in mathematics. His 
 industry and perseverance were astonishing. 
 
 " During play -hours," says Bourrienne, " he used to 
 withdraw to the library, where he read works of history, 
 particularly Polybius and Plutarch. I often went off to 
 play with my comrades, and left him by himself in the 
 library." 
 
 He was cold in manner, talked very little with his 
 classmates, and felt keenly his poverty and the submis- 
 sion of his country to France. 
 
 Most of the boys at the school were rich, and they 
 often ridiculed Napoleon and his country. And yet he 
 bore them no ill-will; and, says Bourrienne, " when he 
 had the supervision of any duty which they infringed, 
 he would rather go to prison than denounce the crim- 
 inals." During the winter of 1783-84, when the fall 
 of snow was unusually heavy, Napoleon, then four- 
 teen, suggested to his mates that they build a snow 
 fort, " divide ourselves into sections, form a siege, 
 and I will undertake to direct the attacks." This 
 sham war was carried on with great enthusiasm for a 
 fortnight. 
 
 Three of the best scholars were sent every year from 
 each of the twelve provincial military schools of France 
 to the Military College of Paris. Napoleon was one of 
 the three sent from Brienne. 
 
 Here the young men lived so expensively that the 
 youth of fifteen wrote a letter of protest to the Vice- 
 Principal Berton of Brienne. He urged that, instead of
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 5 
 
 so many attendants, and two-course dinners, they should 
 wait upon themselves, clean their own boots, and eat the 
 coarse bread made for soldiers. Temperance and activity 
 would fit them, he said, for the hardships of war. 
 
 Napoleon won the admiration of his teachers. The 
 professor in history, M. de 1'Eguille, said : " A Corsican 
 by birth and character, he will do something great if 
 circumstances favor him." 
 
 After a year at this school, he was made second 
 lieutenant of artillery in the regiment of La Fere, in 1785. 
 The next five years he passed at different military sta- 
 tions in France. He was always studying. He pored 
 over maps and plans of fortresses. He read with avidity 
 books on law, philosophy, theology, political economy, 
 and various forms of government. He wrote an essay 
 on the question, " What are the institutions most likely 
 to contribute to human happiness ? " He also wrote a 
 history of Corsica and her wrongs. 
 
 Abbott relates that on a day of public festivity at 
 Marseilles, Napoleon was criticised because he did not 
 join in the amusements. He replied, " It is not by play- 
 ing and dancing that a man is to be formed." 
 
 At Auxonne, Napoleon and some other officers boarded 
 with a plain barber. The wife of the barber did not like 
 the taciturn young Napoleon, who stayed in his room 
 and devoured his books, while the other officers pleased 
 her from their social ways, and enjoyment of the gossip 
 of the town. 
 
 Years after, Napoleon, who had won several victories, 
 passed that way. He asked the barber's wife if she 
 remembered an officer by the name of Bonaparte in her 
 home. " Indeed I do," was the reply, " and a very dis- 
 agreeable inmate he was. He was always either shut
 
 6 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 up in his room, or, if he walked out, he never conde- 
 scended to speak to any one." 
 
 " Ah, my good woman," said Napoleon, " had I passed 
 my time as you wished to have me, I should not now 
 have been in command of the army of Italy." 
 
 Napoleon was at this time very slight in physique, live 
 feet six and a half inches tall, with a very large head, 
 pale face, piercing eyes of grayish blue, brown hair, a 
 smile that could be sweet and captivating, and beautiful 
 hands. 
 
 In 1791, when he was twenty-two years old, Napoleon, 
 now first lieutenant, visited Corsica on furlough. Re- 
 maining too long, his name was struck off the army lists. 
 He returned to Paris, and anxiously looked about for 
 some way to earn a living. He met his schoolmate, 
 Bourrienne, who usually paid for any meal they took 
 together at a restaurant, as, although poor, he was richer 
 than Napoleon. Each day they had projects for earning 
 money. They found some houses building, and desired 
 to rent them, and then underlet them, but the owners 
 asked too much to realize any profit. Napoleon solicited 
 employment at the war office. " Everything failed," 
 says Bourrienne. 
 
 Bonaparte's mother, left a widow with eight children in 
 1785, was, of course, powerless to help Napoleon. Her 
 husband had gone on business to Montpellier in the 
 south of France, and died of a cancerous ulcer in the 
 stomach in the thirty-ninth year of his age. His wife 
 was only thirty-five. Madame Bonaparte was possessed 
 of wonderful energy, great strength of will, and excellent 
 judgment. These her son Napoleon inherited in a 
 marked degree. 
 
 She proved equal to the care of her fatherless children.
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 1 
 
 " She managed everything," said Napoleon, " provided 
 for everything with a prudence which could neither have 
 been expected from her sex nor from her age. Ah, what 
 a woman ! Where shall we look for her equal ? She 
 watched over us with a solicitude unexampled. Every 
 low sentiment, every ungenerous affection, was discour- 
 aged and discarded. She suffered nothing but that 
 which was grand and elevated to take root in our youth- 
 ful understandings. She abhorred falsehood, and would 
 not tolerate the slightest act of disobedience. None of 
 our faults were overlooked. Losses, privations, fatigue, 
 had no effect upon her. She endured all, braved all. 
 She had the energy of a man, combined with the gentle- 
 ness and delicacy of a woman." 
 
 When Bonaparte was waiting in Paris for some position 
 to open, the French Revolution had begun. On June 20, 
 1792, a ragged mob of five or six thousand men sur- 
 rounded the Tuileries, put a red cap on the head of Louis 
 XVI., and made him show himself at the windows to 
 the crowd in the garden. Napoleon was indignant, and 
 said to Bourrienne, " Why have they let in all that rab- 
 ble ? They should sweep off four or five hundred of 
 them with the cannon ; the rest would then set off fast 
 enough." 
 
 Napoleon also witnessed the storming of the Tuileries 
 on Aug. 10, when the Swiss guards were massacred. 
 Although a Republican in sentiment, he had no sympathy 
 with the extreme democracy of the Jacobins, and said : 
 " If I were compelled to choose between the old mon- 
 archy and Jacobin misrule, I should infinitely prefer the 
 former." 
 
 Years later, when Napoleon was Emperor, when asked 
 jtp allow a person to return to France who had been
 
 8 NAPOLEON BONAPAETE. 
 
 prominent in the downfall of the Bourbon dynasty, he 
 said, " Let him know that I am not powerful enough to 
 protect the wretches who voted for the death of Louis 
 XVI. from the contempt and indignation of the public." 
 
 Corsica and Paoli (who had returned and become her 
 governor) were shocked at the excesses of the French 
 Revolution, and hoped and planned once more for inde- 
 pendence. Finding themselves unable to achieve it alone, 
 they sought the aid of England. Bonaparte and his 
 family favored adherence to France, and were banished 
 from the island, their home plundered, and they made 
 their escape at midnight to Marseilles. Here they were 
 for some time in extreme poverty. Joseph, the eldest 
 son, found employment as a clerk in an office, and in 
 August, 1794, married Julia Clari, the daughter of one 
 of the richest merchants of Marseilles. This was a great 
 pecuniary benefit to the whole family. 
 
 Napoleon had finally been reinstated in the army ; for 
 with the Reign of Terror at home, and wars with mon- 
 archies abroad, all fearful of the growth of republican 
 sentiments and consequent revolutions, the French army 
 was in need of all its able young men. 
 
 Napoleon's first important work was at the siege of 
 Toulon. This was the great naval depot and arsenal 
 of France. The Royalists, or followers of the Bourbon 
 king, Louis XVI., had centred here, and, opposed to the 
 republic, had surrendered the city, with its forts and 
 ships, to England. 
 
 The place must be retaken ; and the Republic sent out 
 an army under Carteaux, a portrait painter. For some 
 months the siege was carried on, but almost nothing was 
 accomplished. Sixty thousand men were needed, and 
 Carteaux had but twenty-five thousand.
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 9 
 
 Napoleon, on his way from Avignon to Nice, passed 
 through Toulon, stopping to see a friend who introduced 
 him to Carteaux. The young officer saw at once the mis- 
 takes of the campaign. " Instead of attacking the town," 
 said Napoleon, "try and establish batteries which shall 
 sweep the harbor and the roadstead. If you can only 
 drive away the ships, the troops will not remain." 
 
 Cape 1'Eguillette separates the two harbors, and here 
 batteries were placed to sweep the sea ; for Napoleon had 
 said, putting his finger on the map, at the cape, " Toulon 
 is there ! " 
 
 As he predicted, the English ships were driven off 
 after a terrible bombardment; fifteen thousand of the 
 inhabitants of Toulon in dismay fled to the ships of the 
 allies ; the plan of Napoleon had proved a great success. 
 
 He was not responsible for the horrors which followed. 
 The Royalists set fire to the arsenal and ships before 
 their departure ; while the town was in flames, cannon 
 from the shore sunk boat-loads of fugitives, and hundreds 
 in the city who could not escape were deliberately shot 
 in the streets and in their homes, so desperate had 
 become the hate between Eoyalists and Republicans, 
 or really Jacobins. 
 
 Fouche, afterwards prominent under the Empire, wrote 
 to a friend, Dec. 23 : "We have only one way of celebrat- 
 ing victory. This evening we shoot two hundred and 
 thirteen rebels. Adieu, my friend ; tears of joy run 
 down my cheeks, and my heart is overflowing." 
 
 "It was," says Walter Scott, concerning this taking of 
 Toulon, .Dec. 17, 17 ( .)3, "upon this night of terror, con- 
 flagration, tears, and blood, that the star of Napoleon 
 first ascended the horizon ; and, though it gleamed over 
 many a scene of horror ere it set, it may be doubted
 
 10 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 whether its light was ever blended with that of one 
 more dreadful." 
 
 For this brilliant undertaking Napoleon was made 
 General of Artillery. General Dugommier, who com- 
 manded at Toulon, said, " Promote this young officer, or 
 he will promote himself." Napoleon was wounded in 
 his thigh by a bayonet thrust in one of the charges. He 
 was at this time but twenty-four years of age, poor, am- 
 bitious, and with little prospect of his future wonderful 
 career. 
 
 He was sent to defend the coast of Provence, and was 
 denounced by the Jacobins, who said he was building a 
 bastile at Marseilles to enslave the people. In March, 
 1794, he rejoined the army of Italy at Nice, and was so 
 useful that the commander-in-chief wrote : " I am in- 
 debted to the comprehensive talents of General Bonaparte 
 for the plans which have insured our victory." 
 
 In July, 1794, he was sent on a mission to Genoa, 
 to examine the fortresses and the neighboring country. 
 Meantime, one set of French leaders had been superseded 
 by a set equally bad. Through jealousy, and as a friend 
 of the younger Robespierre, Napoleon was arrested as a 
 " suspected person," was two weeks in prison, and nearly 
 lost his life. He seems to have been spared for the self- 
 ish reason, " the possible utility of the military and local 
 knowledge of the said Bonaparte." He addressed an 
 eloquent letter to his accusers, quoted by Lanfrey, in 
 which he says : " Remove the oppression which sur- 
 rounds me ; give me back the esteem of patriots. An 
 hour afterwards, if bad men wish for my life, I care so 
 little for it, I have so often counted it for nothing. . . . 
 Yes, nothing but the idea that it may be of use to the 
 country gives me courage to bear its weight."
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 11 
 
 Soon after this, to scatter such officers as himself, who 
 were supposed to be Jacobin in tendency, Napoleon was 
 ordered to La Vendee to put down civil dissensions. He 
 rebelled against being separated from the army of Italy. 
 " You are too young," said Aubrey, the Girondist deputy, 
 " to be commander-in-chief of artillery." 
 
 " Men age fast on a field of battle," said Napoleon, 
 " and I am no exception." 
 
 For refusing to proceed to his post, Napoleon's name 
 was struck off the army lists, and again he was in Paris, 
 out of employment. When he and Bourrienne took a stroll 
 at evening on the Boulevards, and saw the rich young 
 men on horseback, apparently living a life of ease and lux- 
 ury, " dandies with their whiskers," says Madame Junot 
 (Duchess d'Abrantes), Napoleon would exclaim bitterly, 
 " And it is on such beings as these that Fortune confers 
 her favors. How contemptible is human nature ! " 
 
 He told Count Montholon, when in exile at St. Helena, 
 that at this time he came near committing suicide by 
 throwing himself into the river. With head down, and 
 meditating upon his determination, he ran against a 
 plainly dressed man, who proved to be Demasis, a former 
 comrade in the artillery. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " he said to Napoleon. " You 
 do not listen to me! You do not seem glad to see me! 
 What misfortune threatens you ? You look to me like a 
 madman about to kill himself." 
 
 Napoleon told him his needs, and his mother's poverty. 
 "Is that all?" said Demasis. "Here are six thousand 
 dollars in gold, which I can spare without any incon- 
 venience. Take them, and relieve your mother." 
 
 Hardly aware of what he was doing, Napoleon grasped 
 the money, and sent it to his mother. Afterwards he
 
 12 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 could find nothing of Demasis. Fifteen years later, 
 when the Empire was near its fall, Napoleon met him, 
 made him accept sixty thousand dollars to repay the 
 loan of six thousand, and appointed him director-general 
 of the crown gardens, at a salary of six thousand dollars 
 a year, and the honors of an officer in the household. He 
 also provided a good situation for Demasis' brother. 
 
 He never forgot a kindness. A humble shoemaker, 
 who worked for him in these days of poverty, and waited 
 for his pay, was always employed by Napoleon after he 
 became Emperor, though he was urged to go to some one 
 more fashionable. A jeweller, who once trusted him, was 
 remembered in Napoleon's days of prosperity, and thus 
 made his fortune. To a lady, a stranger to him, who 
 once was kind to him in sickness in these early years, he 
 sent two thousand dollars, hearing that her circumstances 
 had changed. To an old man in Jersey, who had once 
 loaned his father twenty-five louis, he sent ten times that 
 sum. 
 
 Reverses began to attend the army of Italy. When- 
 ever it was convenient to use his services, it seemed 
 always to be remembered that he had knowledge and 
 sagacity. Napoleon was asked by the director of mili- 
 tary affairs to draw up a plan of operations for the army. 
 It was sent to Kellermann, Commander-in-chief of the 
 army of Italy, who rejected it, saying, " The author is a 
 fit inmate for a lunatic asylum." Lanfrey and other 
 historians consider the plan altogether brilliant and 
 admirable. 
 
 Napoleon, by years of study, had made himself a mas- 
 ter in the science of war, as well as along other lines. 
 He had made himself ready for a great opportunity, and 
 a greaf opportunity came to him.
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 13 
 
 France, in her struggle for self-government, had adopted 
 a new constitution, under a Directory of five persons, with 
 a Council of two hundred and fifty Ancients, and a Coun- 
 cil of Five Hundred, somewhat like our House of Repre- 
 sentatives. The new government, though acceptable to 
 the provinces, did not please either the Royalists or 
 Jacobins of Paris, and the people, now so used to blood- 
 shed, resorted to force to destroy the Directory. 
 
 Barras, one of the Directors, who knew Napoleon, im- 
 mediately thought of him as a young man who could 
 quell a mob. " It is that little Corsican officer," he said, 
 " who will not stand upon ceremony ! " The Directory 
 had but about eight thousand soldiers ; the National 
 Guard numbered forty thousand. Napoleon spent the 
 whole night in turning the Louvre and the Tuileries into 
 a sort of camp, with artillery posted at all the outlets. 
 He armed all the members of the government, that they 
 might defend themselves if the necessity arose, and he 
 took care to leave a way of retreat open to St. Cloud. 
 
 The National Guards appeared on the morning of Oct. 
 5, 1795 (loth Vendemiaire, as the month was called by the 
 Revolutionary Calendar), in front of Napoleon's troops. 
 All day the two armies were within fifteen paces of each 
 other. At four o'clock in the afternoon, General Danican 
 of the National Guards gave the signal for attack. 
 Napoleon mounted his horse, and the fight began at 
 several places. 
 
 The cannon swept them down at every point. At six 
 o'clock the battle was over, and order was restored in 
 Paris. About eighty only were killed, and three or four 
 hundred wounded, as the guns were loaded with powder 
 after two discharges. Napoleon was, as lie deserved to 
 be, the hero of the hour. With the utmost self-posses-
 
 14 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 sion, with a clear brain and never-failing courage, he had 
 been equal to the emergency. 
 
 Napoleon was made General of the Interior, with the 
 command of Paris. The days of poverty were over. He 
 found places for several of his family, and was much 
 sought after by those in high position. He was es- 
 pecially good to the poor, and the Duchess d'Abrantes 
 tells how he climbed to attics and went down into cellars 
 to feed the hungry. As he was stepping out of his car- 
 riage one day at the home of the Duchess, a woman held 
 her dead child before him. It had died from want. 
 She had come to ask him to save her other children. " If 
 nobody will give me anything," she said, " I must even 
 take them all five and drown myself with them." Napo- 
 leon remembered how near he had been to drowning 
 himself only a little time before. He obtained the 
 wages due to her husband, who had been killed while 
 at work on the roof of the Tuileries, and a pension was 
 granted her. 
 
 Soon after this an attractive boy about fourteen years 
 of age came to Napoleon and asked for the sword of his 
 father, who was a general of the Republic, and had been 
 put to death by the Jacobins, because he was a Giron- 
 dist, or moderate Republican. 
 
 " I was so touched by this affectionate request," said 
 Napoleon, " that I ordered it to be given to him. This 
 boy was Eugene Beauharnais. On seeing the sword he 
 burst into tears. I felt so affected by his conduct, that 
 I noticed and praised him much. A few days after- 
 wards his mother came to return me a visit of thanks. 
 I was struck with her appearance, and still more with 
 her esprit." 
 
 The young general of twenty -six became thoroughly in
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 15 
 
 love with the graceful and lovable widow of thirty-two. 
 Josephine Tascher, the only child of French parents, had 
 been born in the Island of Martinique, Jan. 24, 1763. 
 She was married when sixteen to Viscount de Beauhar- 
 nais, a major in the army, who introduced her to the 
 court of Marie Antoinette, but who, with all his wealth 
 and position, did not make her life a happy one. After 
 four years of marriage and the birth of two children, 
 Hortense and Eugene, to whom she was most tenderly 
 attached, she and Beauharnais separated, and she re- 
 turned to Martinique, but at his persistent request she 
 came back to him after three years. 
 
 On his imprisonment during the Reign of Terror, she 
 attempted to save him and was thrown into prison, 
 where she narrowly escaped the guillotine. He was 
 beheaded July 23, 1794. 
 
 "Josephine," says Meneval, the secretary of Napoleon 
 after Bourrienne, " was irresistibly attractive. . . . Her 
 temper was always the same. She was gentle and kind, 
 affable and indulgent with every one, without difference 
 of persons. She had neither a superior mind nor much 
 learning; but her exquisite politeness, her full acquaint- 
 ance with society, with the court, and with their inno- 
 cent artifices, made her always know the best things to 
 say or do." 
 
 Napoleon found at the home of Madame de Beauhar- 
 nais the most noted persons in Paris, and, what was more 
 important for his happiness, the one woman whom lie 
 ever after loved. 
 
 Years later lie said, "Josephine was truly a most 
 lovely woman, refined, affable, and charming. . . . She 
 was so kind, so humane she was the most graceful 
 lady and the best woman in France. I never saw her
 
 16 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 act inelegantly during the whole time we lived together. 
 She possessed a perfect knowledge of the different 
 shades of my character, and evinced the most exquisite 
 tact in turning this knowledge to the best account. . . . 
 
 "I was the object of her deepest attachment. If I 
 went into my carriage at midnight for a long journey, 
 there, to my suprise, I found her, seated before me and 
 awaiting my arrival. If I attempted to dissuade her 
 from accompanying me, she had so many good and 
 affectionate reasons to urge, that it was almost always 
 necessary to yield. In a word, she always proved to me 
 a happy and affectionate wife, and I have preserved the 
 tenderest recollections of her." 
 
 Barms, the ardent friend of Josephine, urged her 
 marriage with Napoleon, and her children favored it. 
 She admired him, b\it hesitated. She wrote a friend, 
 "Barras assures me that if I marry the general, he will 
 obtain for him the appointment of commander-in-chief 
 of the army of Italy. Yesterday Bonaparte, speaking 
 to me of this favor, which has already caused some 
 jealousy among his companions in arms, although it is 
 not yet granted, said, ' Do they think I need patronage 
 to insure my success ? Some day they will be only too 
 happy if I grant them mine. My sword is at my side, 
 and that will carry me a long way.' " 
 
 They were married March 9, 1790, Napoleon having 
 been appointed to the command of the army of Italy on 
 the preceding 23d of February. lie remained in Paris 
 but a few days, and then hastened to his army, reaching 
 Nice towards the last of March. 
 
 He found an army of about thirty thousand men, 
 "without pay, without provisions, without shoes," opposed 
 to about twice their number of Austrians and Sar-
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 17 
 
 dinians. He issued an address to them : " Soldiers, you 
 are poorly fed and half-naked. The government owes 
 you much, but can do nothing for you. Your patience, 
 your courage, do you honor, but they bring you no ad- 
 vantage, no gloiy. I am about to lead you into the most 
 fertile plains in the world ; there you will find larger 
 cities and rich provinces ; there you will find honor, 
 glory, and wealth. Soldiers of Italy, shall you lack 
 courage ? " 
 
 His soldiers, who till his death idolized him and would 
 die for him, were soon to prove on scores of battle-fields 
 that they never lacked courage. 
 
 This slight, boyish-looking general of twenty-six said 
 to his veteran officers, " We must hurl ourselves on the 
 foe like a thunderbolt, and smite like it." 
 
 And this was done. The first battle was on April 12, 
 at Montenotte. The Austrians were routed, leaving their 
 colors and cannon with the French, and three thousand 
 dead and wounded. Napoleon afterwards said to the 
 Emperor of Austria, " My title of nobility dates from 
 the battle of Montenotte." 
 
 The battles of Milleshno and Mondovi quickly fol- 
 lowed. On the heights of Monte Zemolo, Napoleon 
 looked out upon the fertile plains of Italy, and exclaimed, 
 " Hannibal crossed the Alps, but we have turned them ! " 
 
 Then he addressed his enthusiastic soldiers : " In 
 fifteen days," lie said, "you have won six victories; 
 captured twenty-one flags, fifty cannon, many fortified 
 places ; conquered the richest part of Piedmont ; you 
 have captured fifteen thousand prisoners, and killed and 
 wounded ten thousand men. You lacked everything ; 
 you have gained battles without cannon ; crossed rivers 
 without bridges ; made forced marches without shoes ;
 
 18 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 often bivouacked without bread ; the Republican pha- 
 lanxes were alone capable of such extraordinary deeds. 
 Soldiers, receive your due of thanks ! " 
 
 Murat, his aide-de-camp, who afterwards married Na- 
 poleon's sister Caroline, and became King of Naples, 
 was sent to Paris with the armistice proposed by the 
 King of Sardinia, and Junot with the flags, which caused 
 the greatest rejoicing. Fetes were celebrated at the 
 Champ de Mars, and Napoleon's name was honored as the 
 conqueror of Italy. 
 
 Napoleon writes to his bride: "Your letters are the 
 delight of my days, and my happy days are not very 
 many. Junot is carrying twenty-two flags to Paris. 
 You must come back with him ; do you understand ? It 
 would be hopeless misery, an inconsolable grief, con- 
 tinual agony, if I should have the misfortune of seeing 
 him come back alone, my adorable one. . . . You will 
 be here, by my side, on my heart, in my arms ! Take 
 wings, come, come ! But travel slowly ; the way is long, 
 bad, and tiresome." 
 
 Almost daily he writes to his wife: " My only Jose- 
 phine, away from you, there is no happiness ; away from 
 you, the world is a desert, in which I stand alone, with 
 no chance of tasting the delicious joy of pouring out my 
 heart. You have robbed me of more than ray soul ; you 
 are the sole thought of my life. If I am worn out by 
 all the torment of events, and fear the issue ; if men dis- 
 gust me; if I am ready to curse life, I place my hand on 
 my heart, your image is beating' there." 
 
 She is not well, and does not come to him, and again 
 he writes : " My dear, do remember to tell me that you 
 are certain that I love you more than can be imagined ; 
 . . . that no hour passes that I do not think of you ; that
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 19 
 
 it has never entered my mind to think of any other 
 woman ; . . . that you, as I see you, as you are, can 
 please me and absorb my whole soul; that you have 
 wholly filled it ; that my heart has no corner that you do 
 not see, no thoughts that are not subordinate to you ; 
 that my strength, my arms, my intelligence, are all 
 yours ; . . . and that the day when you shall have 
 changed, or shall have ceased to live, will be the day of 
 my death ; that nature, the earth, is beautiful, in my 
 eyes, only because you live on it." 
 
 General Marmont says in his memoirs : " Bonaparte, 
 however occupied he may have been with his greatness, 
 the interests intrusted to him, and with his future, had, 
 nevertheless, time to devote to feelings of another sort ; 
 he was continually thinking of his wife. . . . He often 
 spoke to me of her, and of his love, with all the frank- 
 ness, fire, and illusion of a very young man. . . . During 
 a trip we made together at this time, to inspect the places 
 in Piedmont that had fallen into our hands, one morn- 
 ing,, at Tortona, the glass in front of his wife's portrait, 
 which he always carried with him, broke in his hands. 
 He grew frightfully pale, and suffered the keenest 
 alarm." 
 
 Again he says, " Never did a purer, truer, or more 
 exclusive love till a man's heart, or the heart of so ex- 
 traordinary a man." 
 
 Lanfrey says, "In this love, which has been said to be 
 the only one that touched his heart, all the fire and fiame 
 of his masterful nature showed itself." 
 
 Napoleon pushed on his troops to conquer the Austrian 
 Beaulieu, crossed the river I'o at Fiacenza, and overtook 
 the enemy at the town of Lodi on the Adda lliver. The 
 town was taken by the French ; but, to cross the Adda
 
 20 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 and reach Beaulieu, it was necessary to storm a narrow 
 wooden bridge, which was defended by artillery and by 
 from twelve to sixteen thousand Austrians. Napoleon 
 immediately placed a battery on his own side of the 
 river, sent a detachment of cavalry to ford the river and 
 attack the enemy's rear, and then, at the head of several 
 thousand men, bade them force a passage across the 
 bridge. 
 
 The French were mowed down by the Austrian can- 
 non. They wavered, when Napoleon seized a standard, 
 and, with Lannes and one or two other officers, rushed 
 among the troops and inspired them to gain a complete 
 victory. Lannes was the first to cross the bridge and 
 reach the Austrian gunners, who were sabred at their 
 guns, and Napoleon the second. Lannes was promoted 
 on the spot for his valor. So proud were the troops that 
 their general should fight in the ranks, that they ever 
 after called him their " Little Corporal." The conflict 
 was a bloody one. The Austrian loss was much heavier 
 than the French. 
 
 Napoleon said, " It was not till after the terrible pas- 
 sage of the bruJne of Lodi that the idea shot across my 
 mind that I might become a decisive actor in the politi- 
 cal arena. Then arose, for the first time, the spark of 
 great ambition." 
 
 He said to his aide-de-camp, Marmont, " In our time, 
 no one has devised anything great ; I must set an ex- 
 ample." 
 
 On May l/>, 1790, Napoleon entered Milan in triumph. 
 The people hated the rule of Austria, and hoped for lib- 
 erty under the French Republic. A triumphal arch was 
 erected in the city, and flowers were scattered in the 
 path of the French. To his soldiers, " who had rushed,"
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 21 
 
 he said, " like a torrent from the height of the Apen- 
 nines," Napoleon gave all the glory. 
 
 In accordance with the wishes of the Directory in 
 France, he levied twenty million francs on Milan, and 
 took some of her best art works to Paris. The army was 
 supported by the countries through which it passed, as 
 was Sherman's in our Civil War. 
 
 Late in June, Josephine reached Milan, and for a brief 
 period they were happy; but Napoleon was obliged very 
 soon to be at the front. The war now centred about 
 Mantua, which was strongly fortified. Seven or eight 
 thousand French troops were besieging it, when it was 
 ascertained that Wiirmser, the Austrian general, was 
 marching against the French with seventy thousand men, 
 in three armies, while Napoleon had but about forty-five 
 thousand. 
 
 At once the siege of Mantua was raised, the gun-car- 
 riages burned, the powder thrown into the river, the 
 cannon spiked, and the French forces were led against 
 Wiirmser. 
 
 Napoleon, with his usual celerity and tact, he used 
 to say, " War, like government, is mainly decided by 
 tact," - managed to defeat each of the three Austrian 
 armies in turn. 
 
 At Lonato the Austrians lost ten thousand in killed, 
 wounded, and prisoners. The day after the battle, one 
 of the Austrian divisions, reduced to four thousand men, 
 wandered into Lonato, and demanded the surrender of 
 the garrison of twelve hundred. Napoleon called his 
 staff together; and when the bandage was removed from 
 the eyes of the officer, he said with authority, " Go and 
 tell your general that I give him eight minutes to lay 
 down his arms ! " The Austrians surrendered, and were
 
 22 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 soon chagrined to find that four thousand had succumbed 
 to twelve hundred Frenchmen. 
 
 Napoleon said at Lonato, " I was at ease ; the Thirty- 
 second was there ! " So rejoiced were the men at these 
 words that they had them embroidered on their regi- 
 mental flag. 
 
 In this short campaign twenty thousand Austrians had 
 been killed and wounded, fifteen thousand taken pris- 
 oners, with seventy pieces of artillery, and twenty -two 
 stands of colors. The latter were sent to Paris. 
 
 Early in September, Napoleon again defeated Wttrmser 
 at Bassano. After the battle, at midnight Napoleon 
 rode over the battle-field by moonlight, tl*e quiet broken 
 only by the moans of the wounded and dying. Suddenly 
 a dog sprang from beneath the cloak of his dead master, 
 rushed to Napoleon as though asking aid, and then back 
 to the body, licking the face and hands of the dead, and 
 howling piteously. 
 
 Napoleon was strongly moved, and said years afterward, 
 " I know not how it was, but no incident upon any field 
 of battle ever produced so deep an impression upon my 
 feelings. ' This man,' thought I, ' must have had among 
 his comrades friends, and yet here he lies forsaken by 
 all except his faithful dog.' . . . Certainly, in that mo- 
 ment, I should have been unable to refuse any request 
 to a suppliant enemy." 
 
 When at St. Helena, Madame Montholon, seeming to 
 be afraid of a dog, Napoleon said, " He who does not love 
 a dog has never known what real fidelity means." 
 
 Austria soon put another general in the field with 
 over sixty thousand men. She was determined not to 
 lose Italy. At first the French army lost some battles, 
 the general-in-chief not being with them. When he
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 23 
 
 came to his army, he said to some regiments, " Soldiers, 
 I am not satisfied with you. You have shown neither 
 discipline, constancy, nor courage. . . . Let it be written 
 on the colors, ' They are not of the army of Italy.' ' 
 The men seemed heart-broken. " Place us in the van 
 of the army," they said, " and you shall then judge 
 whether we do not belong to the army of Italy." 
 
 They were soon put to the test. Napoleon marched 
 out of Verona on the night of Nov. 14, descended 
 the Adige river, and fell upon the rear of Alvinzi, the 
 Austrian general, at Arcola. The village is surrounded 
 by marshes, crossed by causeways or bridges. 
 
 When the French rushed upon the bridges, they were 
 repulsed by the guns of the Austrians. Napoleon sprang 
 from his horse, seized a standard, and shouted, " Follow 
 your general ! " but he was borne by the struggling 
 soldiers off the bridge into the marsh. 
 
 Frenzied at the probable loss of their general, the 
 French fought desperately. Muiron, who had saved 
 Napoleon at Toulon when he was wounded in the thigh, 
 covered his general with his own body, and received his 
 death wound from a shell. Lannes received three wounds 
 in endeavoring to protect Napoleon, who was finally ex- 
 tricated, and was again at the head of the column. After 
 three days of battle, the French were victorious. It is 
 estimated that twenty thousand men perished in the 
 swamps of Arcola. 
 
 Napoleon wrote a letter of sympathy to the young 
 widow of Muiron, who in a few weeks died at the birth 
 of a lifeless child. 
 
 To the Directory he wrote : " Never was a field of 
 battle more valiantly disputed than the conflict at 
 Arcola. I have scarcely any generals left. Their
 
 24 NAPOLEON UONAPAltTE. 
 
 bravery and their patriotic enthusiasm are without 
 example." 
 
 In the midst of this toil and carnage, Napoleon could 
 find time to write to Josephine. She had followed him 
 for a while after coming to Milan, but her dangers were 
 so great that it was soon found to be impossible. 
 
 After Arcola he writes her : " At length, my adored 
 Josephine, I live again. Death is no longer before ine, 
 and glory and honor are still in my breast. . . . Soon 
 Mantua will be ours, and then thy husband will fold thee 
 in his arms, and give thee a thousand proofs of his ardent 
 affection. I shall proceed to Milan as soon as I can ; I 
 am a little fatigued. I have received letters from Eugene 
 and Hortense. I am delighted with the children. . . . 
 Adieu, my adorable Josephine. Think of me often. 
 Death alone can break the union which sympathy, love, 
 and sentiment have formed. Let me have news of your 
 health. A thousand and a thousand kisses." 
 
 If she does not write often he is distressed ; " Three 
 days without a word from you," he writes, "and I have 
 written you several times. This absence is horrible ; 
 the nights are long, tiresome, dull ; the days are monot- 
 onous. ... I do not really live away from you; my 
 life's happiness is only to be with my sweet Josephine. 
 Think of me ! write to me often, very often ; it is the 
 only balm in absence which is cruel, but I hope will be 
 short. . . . Day before yesterday I was in the field all 
 day. Yesterday I stayed in bed. A fever and a raging 
 headache prevented me from writing to my dear one ; 
 but I received her letters. I pressed them to my heart 
 and my lips ; and the pang of absence, a hundred miles 
 apart, vanished." 
 
 Yet, with all this intensity of feeling, Napoleon had
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 25 
 
 wonderful self-command. He said, " Nature seems to 
 have calculated that I should endure great reverses. 
 She has given me a mind of marble. Thunder cannot 
 ruffle it. The shaft merely glides along." 
 
 Austria made another desperate effort to overcome 
 Napoleon and save Wiirmser, shut up in Mantua. At 
 four o'clock in the morning, Jan. 14, 1797, the battle of 
 Klvoli began. For twelve hours Napoleon was in the 
 hottest of the fight. Three horses were shot under him. 
 
 After a desperate but victorious battle, the troops 
 marched all night, conquered Provera before Mantua 
 the next day, and La Favorita on the third day. The 
 Austrian army had lost thirty thousand men in three 
 days, of whom twenty thousand were taken prisoners. 
 Napoleon, in his report of the battle of Favorita, spoke 
 of the terrible Fifty-seventh. Thereafter the Fifty- 
 seventh adopted the name of " The Terrible," proud of 
 this distinction of their chief. 
 
 Massena's men had marched and fought incessantly 
 for four days and nights. No wonder the Austrians 
 said, " The French do not march, they fly." Napoleon 
 wrote, " The lloman legions used to make twenty -four 
 miles a day; our men make thirty, and fight in the 
 intervals." . . . 
 
 AYttrmser surrendered Mantua Feb. 3, 171)7. Twenty- 
 seven thousand men had died of wounds or sickness since 
 the commencement of the siege. The horses had all 
 been eaten, and the city could sustain itself no longer. 
 Wtirmser had declared that lie could hold out for a year. 
 But Napoleon knew that so brave a marshal as Wttriu- 
 ser would not surrender unless reduced to the last 
 extremity. 
 
 He therefore allowed Wiirinser to retire with all his
 
 26 NAPOLEON HONAPARTE. 
 
 staff and two thousand cavalry. He surrendered to 
 France eighteen thousand prisoners. Wlirniser wished 
 to salute the young conqueror of twenty -seven ; but 
 Napoleon had gone to Bologna, not liking to subject the 
 marshal of seventy to humiliation. Lanfrey thinks 
 this was done for effect, but there seeins no good reason 
 for always imputing bad motives to Napoleon. A man 
 so worshipped by his soldiers, and, indeed, by the nation, 
 had much that was noble and refined in his nature. 
 
 Wurmser, out of gratitude to Napoleon, saved his life 
 at Bologna, by making known to him a plot to poison 
 him. 
 
 Napoleon now turned his attention towards the Papal 
 States. The Pope had no love for the " godless Republic." 
 Thousands of priests had fled from France to Rome. 
 Austria and Rome were closely allied, and both ready to 
 sustain war against France whenever an opportunity 
 offered. 
 
 The Directory had written to Napoleon "that the 
 Roman Catholic religion would always be the irreconcil- 
 able enemy of the Republic," but Napoleon bore no ill- 
 will towards his mother's faith and the faith in which he 
 himself died. 
 
 He issued a proclamation in which he said, " The 
 French soldier carries in one hand the bayonet, the 
 guaranty of victory, and in the other an olive branch, 
 the symbol of peace and pledge of his protection." 
 
 When within three days' march of Rome, the Pope 
 sued for peace, and the treaty of Tolentino was signed 
 Feb. 19, 1797. 
 
 Napoleon writes to Josephine on the same day : " Peace 
 has just been signed Avith Rome. Bologna, Ferrara, the 
 Romagna, are ceded to the Republic. The Pope gives
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 27 
 
 us shortly thirty million [francs] and many works of 
 art. . . . 
 
 " My dear, I beg of you think of me often, and write 
 me every day. . . . You, to whom nature has given intel- 
 ligence, gentleness, and beauty, you, who rule alone over 
 my heart, you, who doubtless know only too well the 
 absolute power you exercise over my heart, write to me, 
 think of me, and love me. Ever yours." 
 
 Austria was not yet humbled. Napoleon determined 
 to march against Vienna. The young Archduke Charles, 
 brother of ^he ruler of Austria, was in command of the 
 Austrian army. " He is a man," said Napoleon, " whose 
 conduct can never attract blame. . . . More than all, he 
 is a good man, and that includes everything when said 
 of a prince." 
 
 Charles had beaten Napoleon's generals on the Rhine, 
 but he could not beat the " Little Corporal." His fifty 
 thousand men melted away as they fled, wounded and 
 distracted, over the Alps. 
 
 When within sight of Vienna, Napoleon proposed 
 peace ; and Austria, tired of war for a time at least, 
 accepted the conditions. 
 
 Early in May, France declared war against the Venetian 
 Republic. The latter had been neutral, although both 
 Austrians and French had crossed her territory. Her 
 aristocracy had no sympathy with the French Republic, 
 and preferred Austria. Perhaps to guard herself from 
 both nations, she raised an army of sixty thousand men, 
 and put herself in the attitude of armed neutrality. She 
 refused to ally herself to France. " P>e neutral, then," 
 said Napoleon ; ' but remember, if you violate your 
 neutrality, if you harass my troops, if you cut off my 
 supplies, I will take ample vengeance. . . . The hour
 
 28 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 that witnesses the treachery of Venice shall terminate 
 her independence." 
 
 Whether or not her government desired to keep the 
 peace, insurrections arose among the people in Verona 
 and elsewhere, French soldiers were killed, Napoleon 
 took " ample vengeance," and in the treaty of Campo 
 Formic, Oct. 17, 1797, Venice was handed over to 
 Austria. The Republic ceased to exist. In taking the 
 hated oath of allegiance to Austria, the ex-Doge of 
 Venice became insensible, and died soon after. 
 
 Napoleon now returned to Milan, and for a time lived 
 in peace and happiness at the Serbelloni Palace. Jose- 
 phine won every heart by her grace and her kindness. 
 Napoleon said, " I conquer provinces, but Josephine wins 
 hearts." 
 
 Madame de Remusat wrote : " Love seemed to come 
 every day to place at her feet a new conquest over a 
 people entranced with its conqueror." 
 
 The people waited to see Napoleon pass in and out of 
 his palace. They did him honor as though he were 
 a king. He had sent for his mother, his brothers 
 Joseph and Louis, and his beautiful sister Pauline, six- 
 teen years of age, of whom Arnault, the poet, said, " if 
 she was the prettiest person in the world, she was also 
 the most frivolous." 
 
 Imbert de Saint- Amand, in his " Citizeness Bonaparte," 
 quotes this incident to show Josephine's power over her 
 husband. " He was absolutely faithful to her," says 
 Saint-Amand, " and this at a time when there was not a 
 beauty in Milan who was not setting her cap for him." 
 
 Josephine owned a pug dog, Fortune, which, when she 
 was imprisoned in the Reign of Terror, was brought to 
 her cell with a letter concealed in his collar. Ever since
 
 NAPOLEON KONAPARTE. 29 
 
 she had been extremely fond of him. They were all at 
 the Castle of Montebello, a few leagues from Milan, 
 during the warm weather. " You see that fellow there ? " 
 said Napoleon to Arnault, pointing to the dog who lay 
 on the sofa beside his mistress, " he is my rival. When 
 I married I wanted to put him out of my wife's room, 
 but I was given to understand that I might go away 
 myself or share it with him. I was annoyed ; but it was 
 to take or to leave, and I yielded. The favorite was not 
 so accommodating, and he left his mark on my leg." 
 
 Fortune barked at everything, and used to bite other 
 dogs. The cook's dog, a mastiff, returned the bite one 
 day, and killed Fortune. Josephine was in despair ; but 
 the mischief was done, and there was no help for it. 
 
 Nov. 17 Napoleon left Milan, and, after a contin- 
 ued ovation along the route, reached Paris Dec. 5, where, 
 a change having taken place in the government, he 
 thought it wise to be for a time. Though the Directory 
 was jealous of the rising power of Napoleon, the people 
 demanded a magnificent reception for him, which was 
 prepared in the Luxembourg. 
 
 Napoleon made an address which was eagerly listened 
 to, and the people were wild with enthusiasm. Thiers 
 says, " All heads were overcome with the intoxication." 
 Talleyrand gave a great ball costing over twelve thousand 
 francs. Bourrienne, his secretary, remarked that it 
 must be agreeable to " see his fellow-citizens so eagerly 
 running after him." 
 
 " Bah ! the people Avould crowd as fast to see me if I 
 were going to the scaffold," was Napoleon's reply. So 
 well did he understand human nature. 
 
 He said to Bourrienne, " Were I to remain in Paris 
 long, doing nothing, I should be lost. In this great
 
 30 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 Babylon one reputation displaces another. Let me be 
 seen but three times at the theatre and I shall no longer 
 excite attention ; so I shall go there but seldom." 
 
 Napoleon was made a member of the Institute, in the 
 class of the Sciences and Arts. This honor he greatly 
 valued, writing to the president of the class, " I feel well 
 assured that, before I can be their equal, I must long be 
 their scholar. . . . True conquests the only ones which 
 leave no regret behind them are those which are made 
 over ignorance. The most honorable, as well as the 
 most useful, occupation for nations is the contributing to 
 the extension of human knowledge." 
 
 " He had," says Bourrienne, " an extreme aversion to 
 mediocrity," or to people who are too indolent to read 
 and improve themselves. "Mankind," he said, "are, in 
 the end, always governed by superiority of intellectual 
 qualities." 
 
 The Directory were anxious for an attack upon Eng- 
 land, which had joined the Coalition against France in 
 1793, and was her most formidable enemy. "Go there," 
 said Ban-as, "and capture the giant Corsair that infests 
 the seas ; go punish in London outrages that have too 
 long gone unpunished." 
 
 Arnault said to Napoleon, "The Directory wishes to 
 get you away ; France wishes to keep you." 
 
 " I am perfectly willing to make a tour of the coast," 
 said Napoleon to Bourrienne. "Should the expedition 
 to Britain prove too hazardous, as I much fear that it 
 will, the army of England will become the army of the 
 East, and we will go to Egypt." He spent a week in 
 looking over the ground, and said, " I will not hazard it. 
 I would not thus sport with the fate of France." 
 
 He determined to colonize Egypt. He would take
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 31 
 
 with him men of science, artists, and artisans. He said 
 to Montholon at St. Helena, " Were the French once 
 established in Egypt, it would be impossible for the 
 English to maintain themselves long in India. Squad- 
 rons constructed on the shores of the Red Sea, pro- 
 visioned with the products of the country, and equipped 
 and manned by the French troops stationed in Egypt, 
 would infallibly make us masters of India, and at a 
 moment when England least expected it." 
 
 The fleet set sail from Toulon May 19, 1798, with 
 forty thousand men besides ten thousand sailors. Jose- 
 phine came to Toulon to say good-by, and wished to go 
 with her husband, but this would have been most unwise. 
 
 The fleet arrived off Malta June 10, Avhich, with almost 
 no opposition, surrendered to the French its twelve hun- 
 dred pieces of cannon, its ten thousand pounds of pow- 
 der, its ships, and its forty thousand muskets. 
 
 On June 30 the fleet appeared before Alexandria, 
 which was soon captured. Then the army set out to 
 cross the desert towards Cairo. 
 
 The heat was intense, they suffered for lack of water, 
 and murmured at the Directory. Napoleon bivouacked 
 in their midst, and dined on lentils. 
 
 On July 21 they came in sight of the Pyramids. The 
 whole army halted. " Soldiers," said Napoleon, " from 
 the summit of those pyramids forty centuries look down 
 upon you! " 
 
 lief ore them lay the intrenched camp of Embabeh, 
 with ten thousand Mameluke horsemen under Mourad 
 lley. These charged upon the immovable squares of the 
 French only to be cut to pieces by bayonets. 
 
 They fought desperately, but were routed, and many 
 of them driven into the Nile. Over two thousand per-
 
 32 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 ished, while the French did not lose over one hundred 
 and fifty in killed and wounded. "The banks of the 
 Kile," says Bourrienne, " were strewed with heaps of 
 bodies, which the waves were every moment washing 
 into the sea." The soldiers bent their bayonets into 
 hooks, and for days fished up the bodies of the Mame- 
 lukes, on each of which they found from five to six hun- 
 dred louis in gold. 
 
 Ten days after this battle of the Pyramids, the French 
 fleet was destroyed by Nelson in the terrible battle of 
 the Nile. Admiral Brueys was killed, and the bodies 
 of his men seemed to fill the Bay of Aboukir. 
 
 Napoleon was virtually a prisoner in Egypt. The 
 blow was irreparable. The army was despondent, but 
 Napoleon was calm. " Unfortunate Brueys," he said, 
 " what have you done ! " 
 
 It was evident that he must organize Egypt as soon as 
 possible. He established in Cairo an Institute of Arts 
 and Sciences, he built factories, and he planned two 
 canals, one uniting the Red Sea with the Mediterranean 
 across the Isthmus of Suez, and the other connecting the 
 Red Sea with the Nile at Cairo. 
 
 Meantime France was threatened with war on every 
 side. Russia and Turkey had joined hands with Eng- 
 land and Austria. They were sweeping over Italy. 
 Turkey had raised an tirmy in Syria, and Napoleon 
 hastened thither with thirteen thousand men over a 
 desert of seventy-five leagues. 
 
 He took El Arish Feb. 20, 1790, then Gaza; then 
 Jaffa was taken by assault, as the garrison refused to 
 yield, and beheaded the messenger sent to them, putting 
 his head on a pole. The massacre which followed was 
 horrible. Some two thousand prisoners were taken to
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 33 
 
 the seashore and shot by Napoleon's order. Bourrienne 
 says, Napoleon " yielded only in the last extremity, and 
 was one of those, perhaps, who beheld the massacre with 
 the deepest pain." 
 
 Napoleon has been greatly blamed for this act. These 
 men would, of course, have gone back to the enemy, and 
 the Turks themselves give no quarter ; and yet, for hu- 
 manity's sake, one wishes that they could have been 
 spared. 
 
 After the battle at Jaffa the French began the siege 
 of St. Jean d'Acre, where Djezzar, which name signifies 
 butcher, the head of the army, resided. The siege lasted 
 sixty days. Sir Sidney Smith of England, with two 
 ships of war, assisted the fort, and Phelippeaux, an old 
 schoolmate of Napoleon at Brienne, directed the artillery. 
 Napoleon's battering train, sent forward by sea, had 
 been taken by the English. The siege had to be raised, 
 four thousand of the French being disabled, and the 
 army retreated to Jaffa. The plague was decimating 
 the ranks ; and Napoleon, to inspire his men, went among 
 the plague-stricken soldiers and often touched them. 
 The wounded and sick were carried on horses, while 
 Napoleon and all his officers went on foot. Napoleon 
 said, " Sir Sidney Smith made me miss my destiny." 
 
 Napoleon defeated the Turks at Aboukir, July 25, 
 with a loss to them of ten thousand men, and then, learn- 
 ing of the perilous condition of France in her wars with 
 the allied powers, hastened to Paris, leaving General 
 Kleber in charge in Egypt. Napoleon narrowly missed 
 being captured by the English cruisers. 
 
 France was overjoyed at his return. Bells were rung 
 and bonfires kindledx He reached Paris Oct. 16, 1799. 
 Josephine had gone to Lyons to meet him. He had
 
 * 
 
 34 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 started for Paris by a different route, and she missed 
 him. 
 
 "When she returned Napoleon refused to see her. 
 While in Egypt Junot had foolishly told him some gos- 
 sip about Josephine, who was obliged to be courteous to 
 everybody, which had made him jealous. It probably 
 came from Napoleon's brothers, who disliked her great 
 influence over him. 
 
 Josephine was nearly heart-broken. She had not seen 
 Napoleon for a year and a half. Both Eugene and Hor- 
 tense begged that Napoleon would take their mother 
 back into his heart. 
 
 Finally he opened his door, and with a stern look at 
 Josephine, said to Eugene, then eighteen, who had just 
 returned with him from Egypt, " As for you, you shall 
 not suffer for your mother's misdeeds ; I shall keep you 
 with me." 
 
 With commendable spirit, the boy, who idolized his 
 mother, replied, " No, General ; I bid you farewell on 
 the spot." 
 
 Seeing his mistake, he pressed Eugene to his heart, 
 folded Josephine in his arms, and sent for his brother 
 Lucien, to show him how thoroughly he and Josephine 
 were reconciled to each other. 
 
 Najtoleon had reached Paris at an opportune moment. 
 The Directory were disliked, and he had made up his 
 mind to overturn the government. A dinner was given 
 to Napoleon at the Temple of Victory by five or six hun- 
 dred members of the t\vo Councils, the Ancients, and 
 the Five Hundred. In the evening Josephine did the 
 honors of the drawing-room at their own house. " She 
 fascinated every one who came near her," says Saint- A- 
 mand, " by her exquisite grace and charming courtesy.
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 35 
 
 All the bmsqueness and violence of Bonaparte's manners 
 were tempered by the soothing and insinuating gentle- 
 ness of his amiable and kindly wife." 
 
 Only a few persons were in Napoleon's secret. By a 
 provision of the Constitution, the Council of the Ancients, 
 in case of peril to the Republic, could convoke the Legis- 
 lative Body (the two Councils) outside the capital to 
 avoid the influence of the multitude, and choose a 
 general to command the troops to defend the legislature. 
 
 The 18th Brumaire (Nov. 9) was the day set for 
 this Council at the Tuileries to vote to change the place 
 of meeting to St. Cloud. It was given out that he was 
 to take a journey, so his officers and some cavalry were to 
 be at his house at six o'clock in the morning to go with 
 him to the Tuileries, that he might review the troops, to 
 be gathered there at seven. 
 
 At six o'clock, Lefebvre, the commander of the mili- 
 tary division, had arrived. Napoleon said to him, "Here 
 is the Turkish sabre which I carried at the battle of the 
 Pyramids. Do you, who are one of the most valiant 
 defenders of the country, accept it ? Will you let our 
 country perish in the hands of the pettifoggers who 
 are ruining it ? " It was gladly accepted. 
 
 All rode to the Tuileries. The Ancients voted to 
 meet at St. Cloud on the morrow, and gave Napoleon the 
 command of the troops. 
 
 On the 19th Brumaire the way to St. Cloud was 
 crowded with troops and carriages. All was excitement 
 and confusion. Napoleon's friends said, "You are march- 
 ing to the guillotine." " We shall see," was his cool 
 reply. When Napoleon arrived at St. Cloud he entered 
 the hall of the Council of the Ancients and made a brief 
 address. Then he went to the Council of the Five Hun-
 
 36 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 dred. It was five in the afternoon. At the sight of 
 him they shouted, " Down with the Dictator ! Down 
 witli the tyrant ! " They brandished daggers and threat- 
 ened his life. His soldiers hastened to his aid ; and one 
 grenadier, Thome, had his clothes cut by a dagger. 
 Bourrienne says they were simply torn. Lucien Bona- 
 parte, the president of the Five Hundred, left his seat 
 in disgust at the tumult. He called upon the general 
 and the soldiers " to execute the vote of the Ancients." 
 The drums were beaten, the soldiers entered the hall, 
 the deputies fled in every direction, and the old govern- 
 ment was a thing of the past. Three consuls were 
 elected, of whom Napoleon was the First Consul. He 
 rode home at three in the morning. At thirty he had 
 conquered France as well as Italy. 
 
 There is no doubt that a large majority of the people 
 of France were rejoiced at the change in government. 
 "Napoleon," says Alison in his History of Europe, 
 " rivalled Caesar in the clemency with which he used his 
 victory. No proscriptions or massacres, few arrests or 
 imprisonments, followed the triumph of order over revo- 
 lution. On the contrary, numerous acts of mercy, as 
 wise as they were magnanimous, illustrated the rise of 
 the consular throne. The elevation of Napoleon was not 
 only unstained by blood, but not even a single captive 
 long lamented the car of the victor." 
 
 On the 19th of February, 1800, Napoleon took up his 
 residence in the Tuileries. His salary was five hundred 
 thousand francs a year. Ten days before his removal 
 to the Tuileries, Feb. 9, when the seventy-two flags 
 taken from the Turks at Aboukir were placed in the 
 Hotel des Invalides, a funeral oration was pronounced 
 on Washington, who had died Dec. 14, 1799. Napo-
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 37 
 
 leon issued this order to his army : " Washington is 
 dead ! That great man fought against tyranny. He 
 established the liberty of his country. His memory Avill 
 be ever dear to the freemen of both hemispheres, and 
 especially to the French soldiers, who, like him and the 
 American troops, have fought for liberty and equality. 
 As a mark of respect, the First Consul orders that, for 
 ten- days, black crape be suspended from all the stand- 
 ards and banners of the Republic." 
 
 Feb. 20 he received a letter from Louis XVIII., in 
 which the Bourbon King said, " Save France from her 
 own violence, and you will fulfil the first wish of my 
 heart. Restore her king to her, and future generations 
 will bless your memory." But Napoleon knew that the 
 French did not want the House of Bourbon. They had 
 put Louis XVI. to death, and still celebrated that 
 anniversary. 
 
 Napoleon devoted all his time to the improvement of 
 the state. He drew around him the ablest persons. 
 "The men whom he most disliked," says Bourrienne, 
 "were those whom he called babblers, who are con- 
 tinually prating of everything and on everything." He 
 often said, "I want more head and less tongue." 
 
 He gave France a new constitution, which was accepted 
 by the votes of the people almost unanimously, over 
 3,000,000 in the affirmative, and a few hundreds in the 
 negative. He abolished the annual festival celebrating 
 the death of Louis XVI. He opened the prisons where 
 those opposed to the state were confined ; hundreds of 
 exiles returned to France. The country was bankrupt; 
 but now that confidence was restored, with the help of 
 the best financiers, the Bank of France was established, 
 a sinking fund provided, judicious taxation adopted,
 
 38 JfAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 and an era of prosperity began. Napoleon built canals, 
 roads, and bridges, and splendid monuments. He restored 
 Sunday as a day of rest, which had been set aside when 
 the Goddess of Reason was worshipped during the Revo- 
 lution. 
 
 A little later, July 15, 1801, by the Concordat, lie 
 recognized the Roman Catholic religion as the religion 
 of France. He said, " I am convinced that a part of 
 France would become Protestant, were I to favor that 
 disposition. I am also certain that the much greater 
 portion would continue Catholic, and that they would 
 oppose, with the greatest zeal, the division among their 
 fellow-citizens. We should then have the Huguenot 
 wars over again, and interminable conflicts. But by 
 reviving a religion which has always prevailed in the 
 country, and by giving perfect liberty of conscience to 
 the minority, all will be satisfied." 
 
 He did not like numerous festival days. " A saint's 
 day," he said, " is a day of idleness, and I do not wish 
 for that. People must labor in order to live." 
 
 Nobody labored harder than Xaj>oleon. He kept 
 several secretaries busy. Writing fatigued him, and he 
 wrote so hurriedly that the last half of the word was 
 usually a dash, or omitted. He could go without sleep, 
 snatching a few minutes in his chair, or in his saddle 
 before a battle. He seldom took over twenty minutes 
 for dinner, even when he was Emperor, and rose from 
 the table as soon as he had finished. His time was too 
 precious to wait long for others. He was very prompt, 
 and required others to be so. 
 
 He said, " Occupation is my element. ... I have seen 
 the extent to which I could use my eyes, but I have 
 never known any bounds to my capacity for application."
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 39 
 
 Lanfrey says lie " had a prodigious power of work/' 
 and ''a rapidity of conception that no other man has 
 probably ever possessed to the same extent." He used 
 often to say, " Succeed ! I judge men only by results." 
 
 Nobody knew better the value of time. " I worked 
 all day," said a person to him, in apology for not having 
 completed some duty. "But had you not the night 
 also ? " was the reply. 
 
 " Ask me for whatever you please except time,'' he said 
 to another ; " that is the only thing which is beyond my 
 power." 
 
 While taking his bath, Bourrienne read to him. While 
 being shaved, he read, or somebody read to him. He ate 
 fast, and was irregular at his meals, sometimes passing a 
 whole day without eating. He always walked up and 
 down the room, with his arms folded behind him, when 
 dictating to his secretaries. "He was exceedingly tem- 
 perate," says Bourrienne, " and averse to all excess." 
 
 " The institutions of modern France date not, as is 
 often said, from the Revohition, but from the Consulate," 
 says Professor Seeley. " The work of reconstruction 
 which distinguishes the Consulate, though it was contin- 
 ued under the Empire, is the most enduring of all the 
 achievements of Napoleon." 
 
 " The institutions now created," says Seeley, " and 
 which form the organization of modern France, are, 
 1. The. Restored Church, resting on the Concordat ; 2. 
 the University ; 3. the judicial system ; 4. the Codes : 
 Code Civil, called Code Napoleon Sept. 3, 1807, Code de 
 Commerce, Code Penal, Code d' Instruction Cr hiiin effe ; 
 5. the system of local government ; (>. the Bank of 
 France ; 7. the Legion of Honor." 
 
 " My code will outlive my victories," said Napoleon,
 
 40 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 truly. He put the best minds of France upon the codi- 
 fication and improvement of her laws, and he carefully 
 watched every detail. 
 
 " Bourrienne," Napoleon used to say, " it is for France 
 I am doing all this ! All I wish, all I desire, the end of 
 all my labors, is, that my name should be indissolubly 
 connected with that of France ! " 
 
 Now that France was prosperous and settled, Napoleon 
 wrote to George III., King of England, proposing peace. 
 Lord Grenville, for his nation, which had grown more 
 confident since the battle of the Nile and the successes 
 in Egypt, declined to treat with the Consular Government 
 of France. Canning spoke of this " new usurper, who, 
 like a spectre, wears on his head a something that has a 
 phantom resemblance to a crown." Who would have 
 prophesied then that young Napoleon IV. would have 
 died fighting the battles of England in Zululand ? 
 
 He proposed peace to Austria, but she decided like her 
 ally, England. Napoleon said bitterly, " England wants 
 war. She shall have it. Yes ! yes ! war to the death." 
 
 He immediately sent General Moreau with one hun- 
 dred and thirty thousand men against the Austrian 
 army on the Rhine, and took forty thousand himself to 
 Italy, crossing the Alps over the Great St. Bernard. The 
 carriages and wheels were slung on poles; the ammunition 
 boxes were borne on mules; the cannon were carried in 
 trees hollowed out, each dragged up the heights by a 
 hundred men;- the soldiers crept up the icy steeps each 
 with sixty or seventy pounds upon las back. At the 
 well-known Hospice kept by the monks, Napoleon had 
 sent forward supplies for his men, who, cold and ex- 
 hausted, were overjoyed at the repast. 
 
 The story is told that the young guide who led
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 41 
 
 Napoleon's mule over the Alps confided to the sym- 
 pathetic stranger his poverty, his desire to marry the girl 
 of his choice, and his inability to provide her a home. 
 The small man in a gray overcoat gave him a note to the 
 head of the convent. To his astonishment, it provided 
 him with a house and a piece of ground. 
 
 The army then swept down upon Italy. The First 
 Consul entered Milan June 2 ; Laniies was victorious at 
 Montebello June 9, and on the morning of June 14 forty 
 thousand Austrians were opposed to a much smaller 
 number of French on the plain of Marengo. The battle 
 was hotly contested for twelve hours. At first the 
 Austrians seemed victorious, till Desaix, who had just 
 come back from Egypt, rushed upon the field with his 
 reserves. He was shot dead, but his columns were soon 
 avenged. 
 
 Six thousand Austrians threw down their arms, a 
 panic spread through their troops, the cavalry plunged 
 over the infantry to be first in crossing the Bormida, and 
 thousands perished in the dreadful confusion. Murengo 
 is regarded by many as Napoleon's most masterful battle. 
 
 Desaix's death was a sad blow to Napoleon. Savary 
 found his body stripped of clothing, wrapped it in a 
 cloak, laid it across a horse, and Napoleon had it carried 
 to Milan to be embalmed. He said, " Victory at such a 
 price is dear." Kleber was killed in Egypt on the same 
 day. At St. Helena, Napoleon said, "Of all the generals 
 I ever had under my command, Desaix and Kleber pos- 
 sessed the greatest talent in particular Desaix. . . . 
 Kleber and Desaix were irreparable losses to France." 
 
 Napoleon returned to Milan and went in state to the 
 Cathedral to the Te Deum, four days after the battle of 
 Marengo. The people everywhere gave him an ovation.
 
 42 NAPOLEON BONAPA11TE. 
 
 " Bourrienne," he said, " do you hear the acclamations 
 still resounding ? That noise is as sweet to me as the 
 sound of Josephine's voice." Napoleon reached Paris 
 late in June. j 
 
 Dec. 3 of this same year, 1800, Moreau fought the, 
 famous battle of Hohenlindeu, in the black forests of 
 Germany, at midnight. In the blinding snowstorm both 
 armies got entangled in the forests. The Austrians left 
 ten thousand in dead and wounded on the field, with 
 seven thousand prisoners. The poem of Campbell is 
 well known : 
 
 " On Linden, when the sun was low, 
 All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
 And dark as winter was the flow 
 Of Iser rolling rapidly." 
 
 Finally a treaty of peace between France and Austria 
 was signed at Luneville, Feb. 9, 1801, followed March 
 27, 1802, by the treaty of Amiens, between France and 
 England. 
 
 Both countries rejoiced in the cessation of hostilities. 
 Fox came over from England and was received with 
 great cordiality. Napoleon said, " I considered him an 
 ornament to mankind, and was very much attached to 
 him." 
 
 Four months later, Aug. 4, 1802, by an overwhelming 
 majority of the votes of the people, over three and a half 
 millions in favor to about eight thousand against it, 
 Napoleon was declared Consul for life. La Fayette 
 could not conscientiously favor it, unless liberty of the 
 press were guaranteed, lie said to Napoleon, " A free 
 government, and you at its head that comprehends all 
 my desires." 
 
 Napoleon said, "He thinks he is still in the United
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 43 
 
 States as if the French were Americans. He has no 
 conception of what is required for this country." Napo- 
 leon felt, no doubt sincerely, that France was more stable 
 under an Emperor than a President. And yet since the 
 fall of Napoleon III. France has shown that she can live 
 and prosper as a republic. 
 
 All through these years the Royalists were plotting to 
 return to the throne ; for when did ever a king reign who 
 did not think it was by " Divine right " ? 
 
 Louis XVIII. wrote another letter to Napoleon : " You 
 must have long since been convinced, General, that you 
 possess my esteem. . . . AVe may insure the glory of 
 France. I say we, because I require the aid of Bonaparte, 
 and he can do nothing without me. General, Europe 
 observes you ; glory awaits you ; I am impatient to 
 restore peace to my people." In answer to this letter, 
 Napeleon wrote, " You must not seek to return to France. 
 To do so, you must trample over a hundred thousand 
 dead bodies." 
 
 Several attempts were made to assassinate Napoleon. 
 Possibly some of these were the work of Jacobins, who 
 feared that the republic was slipping into an empire; 
 but they were for the most part traced to Royalists, the 
 leaders of whom lived in England, and were receiving 
 yearly pensions, because they had aided her in former 
 wars. 
 
 On the evening of Dec. 24, 1800, as Napoleon was 
 going to the opera to hear Haydn's Oratorio of "The 
 Creation," he was obliged, to .pass through the Rue Saint- 
 Nicaise, where an upturned cart covered a barrel of 
 gunpowder, grape-shot, and pieces of iron. The " in- 
 fernal machine " exploded two seconds after he had 
 passed in his carriage. The carriage was uplifted from
 
 44 NAPOLEON HONAPAHTE. 
 
 the ground, four persons were killed, sixty wounded, of 
 whom several died, and forty-six houses were badly dam- 
 aged. One of the horses of Napoleon's escort was 
 wounded. 
 
 Other plans were soon discovered, concocted by Georges 
 Cadoudal, General Pichegru, and others, all in the confi- 
 dence of the Conite d'Artois, afterwards Charles X., the 
 brother of Louis XVIII. He lived in or near London. 
 
 Cadoudal, or Georges as he is usually called, was to 
 meet Napoleon in the streets, and, with a band of thirty 
 or forty followers, kill him and his staff. When all was 
 ready, the Bourbon princes were to be near at hand to 
 head the revolt of the people. Georges was arrested 
 and executed with eleven of his companions. 
 
 The Duke d'Knghien, Louis Antoine, Henri de Bourbon, 
 son of the Duke of Bourbon, and a descendant of the 
 great Conde who had done so much for France in her 
 wars, was living at Ettenheim, under the protection of 
 the Margrave of Baden, to be near the lady whom he 
 loved, the Princess Charlotte de Kohan, and "to l>e 
 ready," says Walter Scott, "to put himself at the head 
 of the royalists in the east of France," if opportunity 
 offered. 
 
 It was reported to Napoleon that the duke came over 
 into France probably on political errands, and that he 
 was corresponding with disaffected persons in France. 
 
 Nai>oleon sent some officers to seize the duke on the 
 night of March 15, 1S04; he Avas carried to Strasburg, 
 and thence to the Castle of Vincennes, near I'aris, arriving 
 on the afternoon of Tuesday, March 20. He was aroused 
 from sleep a little before six on the morning of the 21st, 
 and innocently asked if he were to be imprisoned. He 
 was conducted outside the castle; by the light of a lantern
 
 NAPOLEON JiONAPARTE. 45 
 
 his sentence was read to him. He denied any complicity 
 in the conspiracy against the life of the First Consul, 
 , which was doubtless true ; requested to see Napoleon, 
 which was refused ; asked an officer to take a ring, a 
 lock of hair, and a letter to his beloved, and was shot at 
 six in the morning, by his open grave, his devoted dog 
 by his side. Bourrienne says, " This faithful animal 
 returned incessantly to the fatal spot. . . . The fidelity 
 of the poor dog excited so much interest that the police 
 prevented any one from visiting the fatal spot, and the 
 dog was no longer heard to howl over his master's grave." 
 
 Josephine had heard of Napoleon's intention to send 
 terror among the Bourbon conspirators, and had begged 
 him, on her knees and with tears, to save the life of the 
 young prince. It would have been well for him had he 
 listened to her entreaties. 
 
 France, and Europe as well, were shocked at this 
 death. The Russian court went into mourning for the 
 Bourbon prince. No doubt Napoleon was incensed by 
 the Bourbon plots, and after this death these ceased ; 
 but Las Cases, at St. Helena, said Napoleon always 
 regretted it, saying, " Undoubtedly, if I had been in- 
 formed in time of certain circumstances respecting the 
 opinions of the prince, and his disposition, if, above all, 
 I had seen the letter which he wrote to me, and which, 
 God knows for what reason, was only delivered to me 
 after his death, I should certainly have forgiven him." 
 
 Napoleon has been blamed for another matter, the 
 taking of Saint Domingo, and the imprisonment of Tous- 
 saint L'Ouverture. This remarkable colored man, who 
 had been a slave, had acquired the control of the island 
 by driving the French and Spanish troops out, and 
 making it a republic, with a nominal dependence upon
 
 46 NAPOLEON HONAPARTE. 
 
 France. Napoleon, with a desire unfortunately shown 
 and carried out by other nations, wished to enlarge his 
 colonies and also to settle some dissensions in the island, 
 and sent Dec. 14, 1801, General Leclerc, who had married 
 his pretty sister Pauline, with 25,000 men to Saint Do- 
 mingo to re-establish French sovereignty. He was to 
 send back to France any who rebelled. Toussaint L'Ou- 
 verture, who was among them, was imprisoned in the 
 fortress of Joux, near Besai^on, in Normandy, and died 
 in ten months, away from his own people, the victim of 
 the spirit of conquest, which is not dead even in the 
 nineteenth century. The climate destroyed the French 
 army. Only two or three thousand ever returned. Gen- 
 eral Leclerc died, like the rest, of yellow fever. 
 
 Napoleon said at St. Helena, "I ought to have been 
 .satisfied with governing it [Saint Domingo] through the 
 medium of Toussaint. . . . The design of reducing it 
 by force was a great error." 
 
 Only a year after the treaty of Amiens was concluded, 
 it became evident that it would not last. It was said 
 that Napoleon's power was becoming too great for the 
 security of Kuro]>e. England had determined not to 
 give up Malta, to the Knights as she had promised. 
 Under Pitt's guidance she was arming and making her- 
 self ready Tor a great combat. The Royalists were using 
 their pens in their English homes, to abuse the head of 
 the French nation, held there, by the votes of the French 
 people. It was, of course, exasperating, and tended to 
 produce revolt. Napoleon called attention to the terms 
 of the treaty, which stipulated that neither of the two 
 nations should give am/ protection to those who Avere 
 injuring the other. Commercial tariffs bred dislike. 
 English pride was stirred because Napoleon said, "Eng- 
 land, single-handed, is unable to cope with France."
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 47 
 
 Finally in May, 1803, the war began. Alison says, and 
 Scott agrees with him, " Upon coolly reviewing the cir- 
 cumstances under which the contest was renewed, it is 
 impossible to deny that the British government mani- 
 fested a feverish desire to come to a rupture, and that, 
 as far as the transactions between the two countries are 
 concerned, they are the aggressors." 
 
 Napoleon was determined to invade England, Bour- 
 rienne thinks it was only a feint, and that his real motive 
 " was to invade Germany and repulse the Russian troops," 
 and he gathered an army of 150,000 in and around 
 Boulogne, and an immense flotilla which should be able 
 to transport these men ten leagues across the channel to 
 the English coast. 
 
 While these prepai'ations were going on, the French 
 Senate, undoubtedly in accord with the views of the 
 First Consul, suggested publicly the idea of an empire 
 over which Napoleon should be the hereditary ruler. 
 The people were tired of Bourbon plottings, and, if 
 Napoleon were killed, the scenes of the Kevolution might 
 again be witnessed in the streets of Paris. Napoleon 
 was declared Emperor of the French, May IS, 1804, and 
 publicly crowned by Pope Pius VII., at Notre Dame, 
 Dec. 2 of the same year. 
 
 Paris was thronged witli people on the day of the 
 coronation. At half-past ten in the morning Napoleon 
 and Josephine drove to the cathedral in a carriage 
 largely of glass, surmounted by a golden crown upheld 
 by four eagles with outstretched wings, drawn by eight 
 superb horses. Twenty squadrons of cavalry led the 
 procession, Marshal Murat at the head. Eighteen car- 
 riages, each drawn by six horses, followed. 
 
 Napoleon wore a coat of crimson velvet faced with
 
 48 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 white velvet, white velvet boots, a short cloak of crimson 
 lined with white satin, and a black velvet cap with two 
 aigrettes and several diamonds. 
 
 At the Archbishop's Palace, Napoleon put on his coro- 
 nation robes. These were a tight-fitting gown of white 
 satin, a crimson mantle covered with golden bees, having 
 an embroidered border with the letter N, and a crown 
 above each letter, the lining and cape of ermine, the 
 whole weighing eighty pounds, and held up by four 
 persons. His crown was of golden laurel ; his sword at 
 his left side was in a scabbard of blue enamel, covered 
 with eagles and bees. 
 
 Josephine wore a white satin gown, with a train of 
 silver brocade covered with bees, a girdle of very ox- 
 pensive diamonds, necklace, bracelets, and earrings of 
 precious stones and antique cameos, and a diadem of 
 four rows of pearls with clusters of diamonds. The 
 Emperor was much struck with Josephine's beauty, and 
 said to his brother Joseph, " If father could see us ! " 
 
 As Napoleon entered the cathedral, which was draped 
 in crimson and gold, twenty thousand spectators shouted, 
 " Long live the Emperor ! " 
 
 The Emperor and Empress knelt on blue velvet 
 cushions before the Pope, who anointed Napoleon on 
 the head and hands, and the Empress in the same way. 
 Then high mass l)egan with three hundred performers. 
 When the moment came for the Pope to crown the Em- 
 peror, Napoleon took the crown from his hands and 
 placed it upon his own head, and then crowned Jose- 
 phine. Her crown was formed of eight branches set in 
 diamonds, emeralds, and amethysts, under a gold globe 
 surmounted by a cross. Then they proceeded to the 
 great throne reached by twenty-four steps, Josephine
 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 49 
 
 sitting one step lower than her husband. France had 
 placed her all in. the hands of one man ; and Lanfrey 
 justly remarks, " A nation that carries love of ease so 
 far as to thrust the whole burden of duties and responsi- 
 bility on a single man is always punished for it." 
 
 After the gorgeous ceremony was oVer, Napoleon and 
 the Empress dined alone, and were happy. He said to 
 David, who had painted the coronation scene at the 
 moment when Napoleon was placing the crown upon the 
 head of the lovely Josephine, "I thank you for trans- 
 mitting to ages to come the proof of affection I wanted 
 to give to her who shares with me the pains of govern- 
 ment." Then he raised his hat to the artist, and said, 
 "David, I salute you." Josephine had opposed Napo- 
 leon's becoming Emperor, because it meant hereditary 
 succession, and she had no child by Napoleon. His 
 brothers had for some years urged a divorce, so that 
 Josephine's life had been one of much sorrow. 
 
 Napoleon had said to Bourrienne, " It is the torment 
 of my life not to have a child. I plainly perceive that- 
 my power will never be firmly established until I have 
 one. If I die without an heir, not one of my brothers 
 is capable of supplying my place. All is begun, but 
 nothing is ended. God knows what will happen ! " 
 
 Josephine had urged her young daughter Ilortense 
 into a marriage with Louis, the brother of Napoleon, 
 Jan. 2, 1802, with the hope that their child might be the 
 heir to the empire. Each loved another person before 
 marriage, and their married life was one of constant 
 misery. 
 
 Their first child, Charles Napoleon, born Oct. 10,1802, 
 whom Napoleon would have adopted, a beautiful and 
 most intelligent boy, died when he was four years and a
 
 50 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 half old, of croup, May 5, 1807. " Sometimes when his 
 parents were quarrelling," says Saint-Amand, " he suc- 
 ceeded in reconciling them. He used to take his father 
 by the hand, who gladly let himself be led by this little 
 angel, and then he would say in a caressing tone : ' Kiss 
 her, papa, I beg of you ; ' then he was perfectly happy 
 when his father and mother exchanged a kiss of peace." 
 
 Hortense, the mother, was so prostrated with grief, 
 that it was feared she would lose her reason. Madame 
 de Kemusat says of her, " The Queen has but one 
 thought, the loss she has suffered ; she speaks of only 
 one thing, of him. Not a tear, but a cold, calm, and 
 almost absolute silence about everything, and when she 
 speaks she wrings every one's heart. If she sees any 
 one whom she has ever seen with her son, she looks at 
 him with kindliness and interest, and says, ' You know 
 he is dead.' When she first saw her mother, she said to 
 her, ' It's not long since he was here with me. I held 
 him on my knees thus.' . . . She heard ten o'clock 
 strike; she turned to one of the ladies and said, 'You 
 know it was at ten that he died.' That is the only way 
 she breaks her almost continual silence." 
 
 Josephine was doubly crushed by the blow. She saw 
 her hoi>es for the future blighted. The Emperor wrote 
 to her from the seat of war ; " I can well imagine the 
 grief which Napoleon's death must cause. You can 
 understand what I suffer. I should like to be with you, 
 that you might be moderate and discreet in your grief. 
 . . . Let me hear that you are calm and well ! Do you 
 want to add to my regret ? Good-by, my dear." 
 
 Napoleon was not cold-hearted, but believed that only 
 those accomplish much in life who have self-control. 
 Two of his soldiers having committed suicide on account
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 51 
 
 of love affairs, Napoleon caused it to be inserted in the 
 order-book of the guard, that " there is as much true 
 courage in bearing up against mental sufferings with 
 constancy as in- remaining firm on the wall of a 
 battery." 
 
 Nearly six months after the crowning in Notre Dame, 
 the Emperor was crowned King of Italy in the cathedral 
 of Milan, May 26, 1805, with the iron crown of Charle- 
 magne. This crown of gold and precious stones covers 
 an iron ring said to have been made from a spike which 
 pierced the Saviour's hand at the crucifixion. Napoleon 
 and the Empress were both gorgeously arrayed. He 
 placed the crown upon his own head, repeating the words 
 used in ancient times : " God has given it to me woe 
 to him that touches it." 
 
 Everywhere Napoleon and Josephine were adored by 
 the people. They went into the cabin of a poor woman, 
 who was anxious and needy because her husband could 
 not get work. " How much money would make you per- 
 fectly happy ? " asked Napoleon. " Ah, sir, a great 
 deal ! As much as eighty dollars." 
 
 The Emperor gave her several hundreds, and told her 
 to rent a piece of ground and buy some goats. 
 
 "Josephine," says Saint-Amand, "had all the quali- 
 ties that are attractive in a sovereign, affability, gentle- 
 ness, kindliness, generosity. She had a way of convincing 
 every one of her personal interest. She had an excellent 
 memory, and surprised those with whom she talked by 
 the exactness with which she recalled the past, even to 
 details they had themselves nearly forgotten. The sound 
 of her gentle, penetrating, and sympathetic voice added 
 to the courtesy and charm of her words. Every one 
 listened to her with pleasure ; she spoke witli grace and
 
 52 NAPOLEON HONAPARTE. 
 
 listened courteously. She always appeared to be doing 
 a kindness, and thus inspired affection and gratitude." 
 
 " Her only fault," says Saint-Amand, " was extrava- 
 gance." But it must be remembered that Napoleon 
 wished her to dress elegantly. It seemed as though 
 everybody came to ask her to buy, and she l>ought, says 
 Saint-Amand, " simply to oblige the dealers. There 
 was no limit to her liberality. She would have liked to 
 own all the treasures of the earth in order to give them 
 all away." . . . Napoleon, economical by nature, scolded 
 and forgave. "He could refuse Josephine nothing," 
 says the same writer, " and she was really the only 
 woman who had any influence over him." 
 
 Napoleon made Josephine's son, Eugene, Viceroy of 
 Italy, he often said, " Eugene may serve as a model 
 to all the young men of the age,"- returned to Paris, 
 and then started for his troops at Boulogne. There he 
 waited for some days for his fleet under Villeneuve, who, 
 having been watched by the English, and in part crip- 
 pled by them, failed to appear. He dared not proceed to 
 Brest, which the English blockaded, and so repaired to 
 Cadiz, to be crushed soon after by that Napoleon of the 
 sea, Horatio Nelson, at the battle of Trafalgar. Ville- 
 neuve afterwards committed suicide, stabbing himself to 
 the heart. He left, a letter for his wife in which he 
 said, "What a blessing that T have no children to reap 
 my horrible heritage and bear the weight of my name ! " 
 
 Meantime, Russia, Austria, and Sweden had joined 
 themselves to England to defeat Napoleon. The Em- 
 peror, with that quickness of decision and rapidity of 
 execution for which lie was phenomenal, managed to 
 separate the armies of his foes, and beat them in turn. 
 At Ulm, Oct. 20, 180/5, over thirty thousand Austrians
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 53 
 
 under General Mack, led by sixteen generals, surrendered, 
 laid down their arms, and retired to the rear of the 
 French army. More than twenty thousand Austrians 
 had been taken prisoners in the few days preceding, and 
 the Austrian army of eighty thousand was well-nigh 
 destroyed. 
 
 Napoleon wrote to Josephine Oct. 21 : "I am very 
 well, my dear. I have made an army of thirty-three 
 thousand men surrender. I have taken from sixty to 
 seventy thousand prisoners, more than ninety flags, and 
 more than two hundred cannon. In the military annals 
 there is no such defeat." 
 
 Napoleon pushed on to Vienna, which he entered 
 Nov. 14, and went to the palace of Schonbrunn. The 
 Emperor Francis had fled, and joined the Tsar and the 
 Russian army at Krunn. Thither Napoleon marched at 
 once. On the night of Dec. 1, 1805, he mounted his 
 horse to reconnoitre the enemy's lines. As he returned, 
 going on foot from one watch-tire to another, he fell to 
 the ground over the stump of a tree. A grenadier lighted 
 a torch of straw, then the whole line did the same and 
 cheered the Emperor. They remembered that the next 
 day, Dec. 2, was the anniversary of the coronation. The 
 Russians thought the French were retreating. Then 
 all slept for a few hours, and awoke to the battle of 
 Austerlitz. 
 
 At daybreak there was a heavy mist, then the sun 
 shone out full and clear, and the French believed they 
 would win a glorious victory. They were not dis- 
 appointed. During the terrible conflict the Russians 
 and Austrians lost over thirty thousand in killed and 
 wounded, treble the number of the French. The enemy 
 fled across the lakes, the ice of which being broken by
 
 54 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 the French batteries, thousands were ingulfed. Their 
 cries and groans, says Laufrey, were heard on the 
 following day. 
 
 Napoleon said, " I have fought thirty battles like that, 
 but I have never seen so decisive a victory, or one where 
 the chances were so unevenly balanced." The Russian 
 and Austrian forces greatly outnumbered the French. 
 To his soldiers Napoleon said, " I am satisfied Avith you ; 
 you have covered your eagles with undying glory." 
 
 To Josephine he wrote : " The battle of Austerlitz is 
 the greatest I have won ; forty-five flags, more than one 
 hundred and fifty cannon, the standards of the Russian 
 guards, twenty generals, more than twenty thousand 
 killed, a horrid sight! The Emperor Alexander is in 
 despair, and is leaving for Russia. Yesterday I saw the 
 Emperor of Germany in my bivouac ; we talked for two 
 hours, and agreed on a speedy peace. ... I shall see 
 with pleasure the time that will restore me to you." 
 
 The defeat of the allies at Austerlitz hastened the 
 death of William Pitt of England. He looked long on 
 the map of Europe, and said, " Henceforth we may close 
 that map for half a century." He died Jan. 23, 1800. 
 
 On Napoleon's return to Paris he erected a column 
 in the Place Vendome to the Grand Army. It was 
 constructed of cannon taken from the enemy, and has 
 illustrations upon it of the campaigns of Ulm and Aus- 
 terlitz. W. O'Connor Morris calls Austerlitz "the most 
 perfect of battles on land, as the Nile was the most per- 
 fect on sea." Seeley thinks, in its historical results, 
 Austerlitz " ranks among the great events of the world." 
 
 The peace of Pressburg was effected between France 
 and Austria, Dec. 2f>, 1805. Charles James Fox, who 
 had succeeded Pitt in England, was favorable to peace
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 55 
 
 between the nations, but the war party in England was 
 strong. Fox soon died, and the peace negotiations failed. 
 
 Napoleon said at St. Helena, " The death of Fox was 
 one of the fatalities of my career. Had his life been 
 prolonged, affairs would have taken a totally different 
 turn. The cause of the people would have triumphed, 
 and we should have established a new order of things in 
 Europe." 
 
 Meantime Napoleon had placed his brother Joseph on 
 the throne of Naples, Louis on the throne of Holland, 
 and had formed a Confederation of the Rhine out of 
 several states in the valley of the Rhine, which had 
 fourteen million people. Napoleon was elected Protector 
 of the Confederation. 
 
 Russia now became an ally of Prussia, and war was 
 declared against France Oct. 14, 1800. The double 
 battle of Jena and Auerstadt was fought, and the 
 Prussians were completely defeated. Alison says, " The 
 loss of the Prussians was prodigious ; <en the two fields 
 there fell nearly twenty thousand killed and wounded, 
 besides nearly as many prisoners. . . . Ten thousand of 
 the killed and wounded fell at Auerstadt." 
 
 Napoleon entered Berlin in triumph Oct. 27, 1806, and 
 established himself in the king's palace. He did not 
 like the beautiful Queen Louise, because he felt that she 
 had inspired the soldiers by her presence, and urged her 
 husband to make war. He was unjust to her in his 
 bulletins, and Josephine reproached him for " speaking 
 ill of women." 
 
 Napoleon visited the palace of Sans Souci to see the 
 room where Frederick the Great died, still preserved as 
 he left it, and then went to the church where he is 
 buried. At the tomb, says General de Segur, " Napoleon
 
 56 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 paused at the entrance in a grave and respectful attitude. 
 He gazed into the shadow enclosing the hero's ashes, 
 and stood thus for nearly ten minutes, motionless, silent, 
 as if buried in deep thought." The sword of Frederick 
 he took with him, and gave it to the Hotel des Invalides 
 in Paris, with the flags carried by his guard in the 
 Seven Years' War. 
 
 Early in November, Prince Hohenlohe surrendered 
 twenty thousand Prussians to the French ; and BlUcher, 
 whom Napoleon was to meet again at Waterloo, surren- 
 dered twenty thousand men and over live hundred officers. 
 
 With all this victory, Josephine was not happy. 
 Napoleon wrote her Nov. 1: "Talleyrand has come, 
 and tells me you do nothing but cry." She wrote to 
 Hortense, more miserable than herself, that she could 
 not be happy so far from the Emperor. 
 
 Napoleon, while at Berlin, issued, Nov. 21, 1800, his 
 famous " Berlin Decree," wherein he declared the British 
 Islands blockaded. All commerce with England and her 
 colonies was prohibited; all property belonging to an 
 English subject confiscated ; every native of England 
 found in a country occupied by French troops to be made 
 prisoner of war. 
 
 Napoleon declared that this was a retaliatory measure 
 against England. Every French port was, in fact, block- 
 aded by English vessels from the Elbe to Brest, by a 
 decree of the British (lovermnent, passed in May, ISOfi, 
 according to Alison. Some months .after the Berlin 
 Decree, England issued further prohibitory acts, called 
 Orders in Council. The consequence of all this was that 
 hate letween the two nations was increased. 
 
 After the humiliation of Prussia, the war went on 
 with Russia. After some minor battles, both armies
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 57 
 
 met- on the bloody field of Eylau, Feb. 7, 1807. Jomini 
 thinks the forces about equal, though some historians 
 place the number at eighty thousand Russians, and sixty 
 thousand French. Part of Feb. 7 and all of Feb. 8, the 
 armies were in deadly conflict. A blinding snowstorm 
 part of the time prevented the armies from seeing each 
 other. The snow and ice were so thick that men fought 
 on ponds and did not know it. 
 
 Fifty thousand dead and wounded lay 011 the snow. 
 Marshal Augereau's corps was almost destroyed; three 
 thousand only remained out of fifteen thousand. Napoleon 
 wrote in his bulletins : " Imagine, on a space a league 
 square, nine or ten thousand corpses ; four or five thousand 
 dead horses ; lines of Russian knapsacks ; fragments of 
 guns and sabres ; the earth covered with bullets, shells, 
 supplies ; twenty-four cannon surrounded by their artillery- 
 men, slain just as they were trying to take their guns 
 away ; and all that in plainest relief on the stretch of 
 snow." 
 
 He said, as he looked upon the ghastly field, " This 
 sight is one to fill rulers with a love of peace and a 
 horror of war/' At three o'clock in the morning of 
 Feb. 9, he wrote to Josephine : " We had a great battle 
 yesterday. I was victorious, but our loss was heavy ; 
 that of the enemy, which was even greater, is no con- 
 solation for me. I write you these few lines myself, 
 though I am very tired, to tell you that I am well and 
 love you. Ever yours." 
 
 Baron de Marbot, in his most interesting memoirs, 
 tells of his thrilling experiences in this battle. He was 
 at that time an officer under Augereau. His horse, Li- 
 sette, of whom he was extremely fond, was addicted to 
 biting, but valued for her speed. At great risk, Marbot
 
 58 NAPOLEON VONAPAKTE. 
 
 carried a message to the Fourteenth. " I see no means 
 of saving the regiment/' said the major; " return to the 
 Emperor, bid him farewell from the Fourteenth of the 
 line, which has faithfully executed his orders, and bear 
 him the eagle which he gave us, and which we can no 
 longer defend ; it would add too much to the pain of 
 death to see it fall into the hands of the enemy." 
 
 Marbot took the eagle, when a cannon ball went 
 through the hinder part of his hat, forcing, by the 
 shock, the blood from his nose, ears, and even eyes. 
 His limbs were almost paralyzed. A hand to hand 
 combat raged around him. Several Frenchmen, not to 
 be struck from behind, set their backs against the sides 
 of Lisette, who stood quite still. One of the Russians 
 thrust his bayonet into Marbot's left arm, and then into 
 Lisette's thigh. 
 
 '' Her ferocious instincts being restored by the pain," 
 says Marbot, " she sprang at the Kussian, and at one 
 mouthful tore off his nose, lips, eyebrows, and all the 
 skin of his face, making of him a living death's-head, 
 dripping with blood. Then, hurling herself with fury 
 among the combatants, kicking and biting, Lisette upset 
 everything that she met on the road." 
 
 She seized another Kussian who had tried to hit 
 Marbot, "tore out his entrails, and mashed his body 
 under her feet, leaving him dying on the snow." 
 
 When Lisette and her rider reached the cemetery of 
 Eylau, where the battle was hottest, the poor creature 
 fell exhausted. The young Marbot, supposed to be 
 dead amid the piles of dead and wounded, was stripped 
 of his clothing. lie was marvellously rescued by a 
 servant, who cut up the shirt of a dead soldier and ban- 
 daged the leg of Lisette, by which she also was saved.
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 59 
 
 Lisette, after doing service just before Friedland by 
 galloping twelve leagues on a hot day to carry a message 
 of warning to the Emperor, was cared for by the wife of 
 an officer, and died of old age. 
 
 Napoleon shared with his soldiers all the dangers and 
 privations of war. He wrote to his brother Joseph : 
 "The staff -officers have not taken off their clothes for 
 two months, and some not for four. I have myself been 
 a fortnight without taking off my boots. We are deep 
 in the snow and mud. . . . The wounded have to be 
 carried in open sleighs for fifty leagues." 
 
 Josephine wished to come to him. He wrote : " You 
 couldn't be racing through inns and camps. I am as 
 anxious as you can be to see you and be quiet. . . . All 
 my life I have sacrificed everything peace, interest, 
 happiness to my destiny." 
 
 The next great battle was at Friedland, when eighty 
 thousand French met seventy-five thousand Russians. 
 " This is the anniversary of Marengo," said Napoleon, 
 June 14, 1800, " and to-day fortune is with me." 
 
 And so it proved. The Russians fought desperately, 
 but they were overpowered. They retreated towards the 
 river, and thousands who were not captured were drowned. 
 They lost twenty-six thousand, says Marbot, in dead and 
 wounded, and the French about half that number. 
 
 The conquered were glad to make peace, which was con- 
 cluded at Tilsit, July 7, 1807, between Alexander I. of 
 Russia, Frederick William III. of Prussia, and Napoleon. 
 By this treaty, among other articles, some provinces 
 west of the Elbe were made into the kingdom of West- 
 phalia, and another brother of Napoleon, Jerome, was 
 placed upon a throne. He had married, when nineteen, 
 Miss Elizabeth Patterson of Baltimore ; but through
 
 60 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 Napoleon's influence the union was annulled, and he 
 married, at twenty-three, Aug. 23, 1807, the daughter of 
 the king of Wtirtemberg. She proved a noble woman. 
 When her husband was dethroned in 1814, she refused 
 to obtain a divorce, writing to her father : " Having been 
 forced, by reasons of state, to marry the king, my 
 husband, it has been granted me by fate to be the 
 happiest woman in the world." 
 
 Napoleon said of her at Saint Helena, " Princess 
 Catherine of AYtirtemberg has, with her own hands, 
 written her name in history." 
 
 Napoleon returned to Paris after the peace of Tilsit, 
 and was received with unbounded love and honor. He 
 made Paris more beautiful with arches and churches, he 
 developed her industries, and he established schools and 
 colleges. He said, ' ; AVe must not pass through this 
 Avorld without leaving traces which may commend our 
 memory to posterity." 
 
 England was still the bitter enemy of Napoleon. The 
 decrees of both regarding commerce were soon to plunge 
 nearly all Europe into war. ]iy agreement of Alexander 
 and Napoleon, if England did not consent to peace, they 
 were to summon Denmark, Sweden, Portugal, and per- 
 haps Austria, to close their ports against her. Denmark 
 wished to be neutral. Wliile she hesitated, England, 
 having heard of this project, sent a fleet against Copen- 
 hagen and bombarded it. 
 
 Najx)leon sent an army under Junot into Portugal to 
 compel her assent, and Murat into Spain, which at that 
 time was friendly with France, though distracted by 
 royal dissensions. Napoleon placed his brother Joseph 
 on the throne. Mr. Kopes thinks, and probably correctly, 
 that Napoleon supposed "the population of the Spanish
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 61 
 
 peninsula was ready for the great reforms in government 
 in which France had led the way, and in which Holland, 
 Western Germany, and Italy were then cheerfully and 
 hopefully inarching, and that the better and more enlight- 
 ened part of the Spanish people would be thankful to see 
 a liberal, intelligent, and conscientious man like Joseph 
 take the place of the bigoted and profligate Charles IV." 
 
 Napoleon said at St. Helena : " It was the subject of 
 my perpetual dreams to render Paris the real capital 
 of Europe. . . . My ambition was of the highest and 
 noblest kind that ever existed, that of establishing 
 and consecrating the empire of reason, and the full exer- 
 cise and complete enjoyment of all the human faculties." 
 
 A dreadful insurrection took place in Spain against the 
 rule of Joseph, and Napoleon sent a large army to quell 
 it. He succeeded in reinstating Joseph on the throne 
 for a time. He abolished the Inquisition and began 
 several reforms. 
 
 The insurrection in Spain gave great joy in England. 
 " The general rapture knew no bounds," says Alison. 
 England sent her armies into Spain and Portugal, and 
 the Peninsular War resulted, which Napier has de- 
 scribed so vividly. To restore Ferdinand, the son of 
 Charles IV., to Spain, England spent, says Napier, one 
 hundred millions sterling, about five hundred million 
 dollars, " and the bones of forty thousand British soldiers 
 lie scattered on the plains and mountains of the Penin- 
 sula." The heroic Sir John Moore fell at Corunna, and 
 was buried in his bloody cloak at night by torchlight. 
 
 " Not a drum was hoard, not a funeral note, 
 As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; 
 Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
 O'er the grave where our hero we buried."
 
 62 NAPOLEON HONAPARTE. 
 
 His last words were, " I hope the people of England 
 will be satisfied. I hope my country will do me justice." 
 After his death, Sir Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of 
 Wellington, was made Commander-in-chief of ' all the 
 English troops in the Spanish peninsula. Austria con- 
 sidered this an opportune time to make war on Napoleon. 
 The latter raised another immense army, Lanf rey says 
 with much truth, " France was bleeding to death," - 
 marched against Austria, and several bloody battles 
 resulted. 
 
 At Eckmtihl the Austrians, says Marbot, admitted a 
 loss of five thousand killed, and fifteen thousand pris,- 
 oners. Napoleon said at St. Helena, " The greatest 
 military manoeuvres I ever made, and those for which I 
 give myself most credit, were performed at EckmUhl." 
 
 At Ratisbon the Emperor was wounded in the foot, 
 just before the retaking. So wild were the soldiers at 
 the news, that as soon as his wound was dressed he rode 
 in front of the whole line to appease their anxiety. 
 
 After some other successes, Napoleon reached Vienna, 
 May 10, the Emperor Francis having fled, as before, to a 
 place of safety. Napoleon went at once to the royal 
 palace of Schonbrunn. 
 
 The enemy were now on the left bank of the Danube. 
 The spring rains had swollen the great river, and the 
 crossing was most hazardous. In the midst of the 
 thousand yards of water was the huge Island of Lobau, 
 four and a half miles long. Here the troops of Napo- 
 leon intrenched themselves, and built a bridge of boats 
 to either side of the Danube. As soon as a portion of 
 the French troops had crossed the river, and reached the 
 towns of Aspern and Essling, the Austrians fell upon 
 them with great slaughter, compelling the French to
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 63 
 
 retreat to the Island of Lobau, in the middle of the river. 
 In these battles the heroic Lannes had both legs crushed 
 by a cannon-ball. One leg was amputated. The Em- 
 peror knelt beside the stretcher and wept as he embraced 
 Lannes, whose blood stained Napoleon's white kersey- 
 mere waistcoat. 
 
 " You will live, my friend, you will live," said the 
 Emperor. 
 
 " I trust I may, if I can still be of use to France and 
 your Majesty," was the reply. 
 
 After his death, said Marbot, "Napoleon embraced 
 the marshal's body, bathing it with tears, and saying re- 
 peatedly, ' What a loss for France and for me ! ' ' 
 
 The losses at this double battle are variously estimated 
 from twenty to fifty thousand; Lanfrey accepts the 
 latter number. Seeley calls it " one of the most terrible 
 and bloody battles of the period." Napoleon at once 
 began to build substantial bridges on piles across the 
 Danube, one of them eight hundred yards long, broad 
 enough for three carriages to pass abreast. These 
 bridges were finished in twenty days, and compelled 
 great admiration. 
 
 To the astonishment of the Austrians, he crossed most 
 of his army of 150.000 men during the night of July 4, 
 and on July 6 fought the dreadful battle of Wagram. 
 About 300,000 were in the battle. Fifty thousand on 
 both sides were killed and wounded, probably about an 
 equal number in each army. 
 
 The weather was extremely hot, and the corn on the 
 battle-field caught fire from the shells. "The move- 
 ments of both armies were hampered by the necessity of 
 avoiding it," says Marbot ; " for if once troops were over- 
 taken by it, pouches and wagons exploded, carrying
 
 64 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 destruction through the ranks. ... Of the soldiers who 
 were severely wounded, great numbers perished in the 
 flames ; and of those whom the fire did not reach, many 
 lay for days hidden by the tall corn, living during that 
 time on the ears. The Emperor had the plains searched 
 by bands of cavalry, and vehicles were brought from 
 Vienna to remove the wounded, friends and foes alike. 
 But few of those even whom the fire had passed re- 
 covered, and the soldiers had a saying that straw-fire 
 had killed nearly as many as gun-fire." 
 
 " After the battle," says General Savary, " the Em- 
 peror sent sixty francs in crown pieces to each wounded 
 soldier, and more than this to each officer." 
 
 Oct. 14, 1809, the peace of Vienna was signed at 
 Schonbrunn, between France and Austria. " I committed 
 a great fault after the battle of Wagram," said Napoleon 
 at St. Helena, " in not reducing the power of Austria 
 still more. She remained too strong for our safety, and 
 to her we must attribute our ruin." 
 
 On Napoleon's return to France he had made up his 
 mind to an act which will always tarnish his fame, and 
 from which the decadence of his empire may be dated. 
 He would divorce Josephine, and marry another, with 
 the hope that he might have an heir to the throne. 
 Undoubtedly he" believed he was doing the best tiling 
 for France; and Thiers says the French people, while 
 they loved Josephine, wished for the divorce. 
 
 On Nov. 30, 1809, as he and Josephine were dining 
 together at Fontainebleau, not a word having been 
 uttered except Napoleon asked one of the servants what 
 time it was, he communicated to her his decision. After 
 dismissing the servants, he came to her, took her hand, 
 pressed it to his heart, and said, " Josephine ! my dear
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 65 
 
 Josephine ! You know how I have loved you. ... To 
 you, to you alone, I owe the only moments of happiness 
 I have tasted in this world. But, Josephine, my destiny 
 is not to be controlled by my will. My dearest affections 
 must yield to the interests of France." 
 
 " I expected this," said poor Josephine, " but the blow 
 is none the less mortal." 
 
 She became at once insensible ; and Napoleon, alarmed, 
 hastily called assistance and bore her to her room. He 
 came to see her in the evening, and wept. 
 
 Eugene determined at once to resign his position as 
 Viceroy of Italy, but his mother begged him to remain 
 the friend of Napoleon. 
 
 On Dec. 15, at the Tuileries, before the officers of the 
 Empire, the divorce was announced. Josephine was al- 
 most overcome by her sobs. "The Emperor will always 
 find in me his best friend," she said, and so it proved. 
 
 The next day the divorce was consummated before the 
 Senate. Eugene announced the divorce, saying, " The 
 tears of the Emperor do honor to my mother." Jose- 
 phine, in a simple white muslin dress, leaning on the 
 arm of Hortense, entered and signed the fatal decree. 
 Both mother and daughter were in tears, as well as 
 many of those present. ' Eugene, who idolized his mother, 
 fell fainting to the floor. That evening when Josephine 
 thought her husband had retired, she came to his room, 
 her eyes swollen with weeping, and tottering towards 
 the bed fell upon his neck, and sobbed ( is though her 
 heart would break. They wept together, and talked for 
 an hour. The next day Napoleon came to see her, 
 accompanied by his secretary, Meneval. " He pressed 
 her to his bosom with the most ardent embraces," says 
 Meneval. " In the excess of her emotion she fainted."
 
 66 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 At eleven o'clock the same day, veiled from head to 
 foot, Josephine entered a close carriage drawn by six 
 horses, said good-by to the Tnileries forever, and was 
 driven to Malmaison. She retained the title of Empress, 
 with $000,000 a year for her support. Napoleon passed 
 eight days in retirement at Trianon. On his return to 
 the Tuileries, he wrote to her, " I have been very lonely. 
 . . . This great palace appears to me empty, and I find 
 myself in solitude. Adieu, my love." 
 
 He frequently visited Malmaison. One day he found 
 Josephine painting a violet. She says, " He threw him- 
 self with transport into the arms of his old friend. . . . 
 It seemed impossible for him to cease gazing upon me, 
 and his look was that of the most tender affection. 
 At length he said, 'My dear Josephine, I have always 
 loved you. I love you still. Do you still love me ? " 
 
 Three months later, Mar. 11, 1810, Napoleon was mar- 
 ried by proxy at Vienna, Archduke Charles representing 
 him at the wedding, to Marie Louise, the daughter of 
 Emperor Francis I. of Austria. He met her with his 
 suite at the palace of Compiegne. She was eighteen, 
 with light hair, and blue eyes, and gentle in manner. 
 Napoleon was forty. 
 
 The civil marriage was celebrated at St. Cloud, April 1 ; 
 and the next day they made their triumphal entry into 
 Paris, by the Arc de 1'Etoile, to the Tuileries, amid the 
 cheers of three hundred thousand people. The world 
 must have been amazed at such a union of France and 
 Austria, nations which had been at war for years. No 
 wonder Napoleon, at St. Helena, spoke of it as "an abyss 
 covered with a bed of flowers." 
 
 Two weeks later Josephine wrote him, "Your majesty 
 shall never be troubled in his happiness by an expression
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPAETE. 67 
 
 of my grief. I offer incessant prayers that your majesty 
 may be happy." 
 
 A year after his marriage, Mar. 20, 1811, a son, Napo- 
 leon Francis, was born to Napoleon, called the King of 
 Rome, as the Roman States had been annexed to the 
 Empire. All France rejoiced when the firing of one 
 hundred guns announced the event. 
 
 Josephine wrote at once, telling Napoleon, " More than 
 any one in the world do I rejoice in your joy." Of Marie 
 Louise she wrote, " She cannot be more tenderly devoted 
 to you than I am, but she has been enabled to contribute 
 more toward your happiness, by securing that of France. 
 . . . Not till you have ceased to. watch by her bed, not 
 till you are weary of embracing your son, will you take 
 your pen to converse with your best friend. I will 
 wait." 
 
 Napoleon brought his child to Josephine. " The mo- 
 ment I saw you enter," she wrote him, "bearing the 
 young Napoleon in your hands, was unquestionably one 
 of the happiest of my life." 
 
 He said at St. Helena : " Josephine would willingly 
 have seen Marie Louise. She frequently spoke of her 
 with great interest. . . . Marie Louise manifested the 
 utmost dislike, and even jealousy, of Josephine. I wished 
 one day to take her to Malmaison, but she burst into 
 tears when I made the proposal. She said she did not 
 object to my visiting Josephine, only she did not wish to 
 know it. But whenever she suspected my intention of 
 going to Malmaison, there was no stratagem which she 
 did not employ for the sake of annoying me." 
 
 The emperor was devoted to his son, and always con- 
 siderate and tender to Marie Louise. The boy developed 
 into a very beautiful and bright child, winning the love 
 of everybody.
 
 68 NAPOLEON HONAPARTE. 
 
 A little more tlian a year after the birtli of the King 
 of Rome, Russia and France were again at war. What- 
 ever Alexander's personal feelings toward Napoleon, his 
 nobles were opposed to him ; they disliked his restric- 
 tions on commerce, and feared his growing power. 
 Russia and England became allies, though Napoleon 
 offered to make peace with the latter, which offers she 
 always declined. Probably the real truth was they all 
 wished to humble Napoleon. 
 
 Russia and France each raised a great army, the latter 
 about a half million men. 
 
 Napoleon left Paris for Dresden, May 9, taking Marie 
 Louise with him. H.e left her at Prague. Before he 
 started from Paris he spent two hours in earnest conver- 
 sation with Josephine at Malmaison. 
 
 This Grand Army must have made an imposing appear- 
 ance, with their twenty thousand carriages, one hundred 
 and eighty thousand horses employed in the artillery, 
 besides thousands of provision wagons and baggage. 
 
 He began to cross the river Niemen, which empties 
 into the Baltic, on the night of June 23, 1812. The 
 policy of the Russians was to retreat, burning the towns 
 through which they passed, and destroying all produce, 
 that the French might find no support in the desolated 
 country. 
 
 The first terrible battle was at Borodino, Sept. 7, 
 where the French lost about thirty thousand, and the 
 Russians fifty thousand, in killed and wounded. 
 
 On Sept. 14, Napoleon and his weary army. many 
 thousands had been stationed at various places along 
 the route entered Moscow. Here they hoped for 
 food and rest. They found the great city deserted. 
 Powder had b'een placed under the Kremlin, and shells
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 69 
 
 under the larger palaces, where Napoleon and his officers 
 would be apt to lodge ; water-pipes had been cut, foun- 
 tains destroyed ; and, the day after Napoleon's arrival, 
 the whole city was set on fire by Russians detailed for 
 that purpose. No wonder Napoleon said, years later, of 
 this terrible destruction of a great city, " It was the most 
 grand, the most sublime, the most terrific sight the world 
 ever beheld ! " 
 
 Napoleon wrote to the Tsar proposing peace ; but no 
 answer was ever returned, though he waited some weeks 
 in Moscow, hoping to hear favorably. The more intelli- 
 gent serfs offered to rise against their masters, and aid 
 Napoleon, but he did not desire civil war. 
 
 On Oct. 19, 1812, the Grand Army of France, one hun- 
 dred thousand strong, commenced its heart-breaking re- 
 treat. Deep snow had already come, earlier than usual. 
 Kutusof, the Russian general, moved his army parallel 
 to the French, and fought them at every available point. 
 Marshal Ney covered the rear, and made for himself an 
 immortal record. Napoleon rightly called him " The 
 Bravest of the Brave." When they reached Boridono 
 they sadly turned their heads away from the battle-fields 
 where the bodies of thirty thousand men were half de- 
 voured by wolves. The cold became intense. Horses 
 slipped and fell on the icy ground. Artillery and bag- 
 gage were abandoned. There was no food in the devas- 
 tated country. Where Napoleon had left provisions on 
 his way to Moscow the enemy had destroyed them. Men 
 ate their horses for food. They lay down at night on 
 the snow to sleep, and never rose. " Every morning," 
 says Marbot, "we left thousands of dead in our bivouacs. 
 ... So intense Avas the cold that we could see a kind 
 of vapor rising from men's ears and eyes. Condensing,
 
 70 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 on contact with the air, this vapor fell back on our per- 
 sons with a rattle such as grains of millet might have 
 made. We had often to halt and clear away from the 
 horses' bits the icicles formed by their frozen breath. . . . 
 Many soldiers of all ranks blew out their brains to put 
 an end to their misery. . . . All ranks were confounded ; 
 there were no arms, no military bearings ; soldiers, offi- 
 cers, generals, were clad in rags, and for boots had noth- 
 ing but strips of leather or cloth, hardly fastened together 
 with a string." The Emperor himself was grave, calm, 
 and self-controlled, with no diminution of courage. 
 
 The soldiers of the allies of Napoleon, Austria, Prussia, 
 Spain, and others, deserted by the thousands, the Rus- 
 sians having sent proclamations in various languages 
 into the camps, telling them they should be returned to 
 their homes. 
 
 Finally they reached the river Beresina, the bridge 
 over which had been destroyed by the Russians. Tear- 
 ing down the hovels in the village, the French built two 
 bridges at night, the men standing for six or seven 
 hours in the water. Then the troops surged upon them, 
 and one bridge broke under the weight of guns and men. 
 In rushing upon the other, great crowds were forced into 
 the river and drowned. The Russians meantime swept 
 them with cannon. From twenty to twenty-five thousand 
 men perished in this dreadful crossing of the Beresina. 
 
 On Dec. 5, 1812, they were within the borders of 
 Poland ; and Napoleon, having learned that his death 
 had been proclaimed in Paris, and that a man had tried 
 to usurp the power, left his army in charge of Murat, 
 and, with two officers, hastened by sledges to Paris, which 
 he reached Dec. 18. 
 
 The loss of the French army and its allies in the
 
 NAPOLEON 13ONAPAETE. 71 
 
 Kussian campaign Thiers estimates as 300,000 men ; 
 other authorities make it 350,000 ; 100,000 were killed 
 in the advanee and retreat from Moscow ; 150,000 died 
 of hunger, fatigue, and cold ; 100,000 were taken prisoners. 
 The Kussian losses were also heavy. 
 
 Prussia now joined herself to Russia, and declared 
 war against France. Napoleon at once raised another 
 army of nearly two hundred thousand by conscription, 
 and defeated the enemy at Liitzeu, or Gross-Beeren, and 
 Bautzen. His young conscripts fought heroically. His 
 beloved Marshal Duroc was killed just after the latter 
 battle. Napoleon wept as he left him dying, saying, 
 "Duroc, there is another life. . . . We shall one day 
 meet again." 
 
 Austria offered to be a mediator, but failing, hastened 
 to join Prussia and Russia. The marriage with Marie 
 Louise had not won Napoleon friends, as he had fondly 
 hoped. 
 
 The allies now had five hundred thousand men, the 
 Prussians under BlUcher, the Austrians under Schwarz- 
 enberg. Upon Aug. 27, 1813, Napoleon defeated them 
 at Dresden, where they left forty thousand on the field, 
 half of whom were prisoners, but was himself defeated 
 in the dreadful battle of Leipsic, Oct. 16-19. 
 
 P>avaria and Westphalia had been compelled to join 
 the allies, whose forces thrice outnumbered the French. 
 The Swedes, under Bernadotte, had now turned against 
 France. "In the three days' battle," says Alison, "the 
 French lost 00,000 men, and the allies nearly as many." 
 
 In the retreat of the French from Leipsic they were 
 obliged to cross the Elster river. The bridge had been 
 mined, and by a mistake was exploded before all the 
 French had passed over, Marbot says, of those who
 
 72 NAPOLEON liONAPARTE. 
 
 were left in Leipsic, about Ii5,000 were killed, and -3,000 
 made prisoners. 
 
 Meantime the English had been victorious over the 
 French in Spain and Portugal, and Joseph Bonaparte 
 had been driven from the throne, lie came to the 
 United States and lived at Bordentown, New Jersey, for 
 some years, dying at Florence, Italy, July 28, 1844, at 
 the age of seventy-six. 
 
 The allies now pushed into France, determined to enter 
 Paris and dethrone Napoleon. The Emperor raised a 
 new army, and with prodigious energy and courage 
 fought against the coalition of Europe. Often with his 
 forces greatly inferior in number to the allies, he defeated 
 them, but finally he was overborne. Marie Louise fled 
 to P>lois. The young King of Rome refused to go. 
 " They are betraying my papa," lie said, "and I will not 
 go away. I do not wish to leave the palace." He wept 
 as he was taken to the carriage. His governess prom- 
 ised that he should come back, but she was never able to 
 keep her promise. 
 
 Paris capitulated March 30, 1814 ; and the Senate, 
 through the lead of Talleyrand, declared that Napoleon 
 and his family had forfeited the throne. 
 
 Napoleon arrived at Paris a few hours after the capit- 
 ulation, stunned at the news. Fearless as ever, he 
 wished to attack the allies, but was persuaded by his 
 marshals to desist. 
 
 With agony of soul, but calmness of demeanor, he 
 signed his abdication at Fontainebleau, April 6, 1814 : 
 " The Emperor Napoleon declares that he renounces, for 
 himself and his heirs, the throne of France and Italy ; 
 and that there is no personal sacrifice, not even that of 
 life itself, which he is not willing to make for the 
 interests of France."
 
 NAPOLEON 110NAPARTE. 73 
 
 By the will of the allies, Louis XVIII. was recalled, 
 and Napoleon was banished to the Island of Elba, east of 
 Corsica, with an annual income from France of $500,000. 
 He bade the Old Guard an affectionate good-by. " Adieu, 
 my children," he said. " I Avould that I could press you 
 all to my heart. Let me at least embrace your general 
 and your eagle." He put his arms around General Petit, 
 and kissed the eagle on its silver beak. Amid the tears 
 and sobs of his brave soldiers, on April 20, Napoleon 
 drove away from Fontainebleau to Frejus, and in the 
 British frigate, The Undaunted, set sail for Elba, April 
 27, 1814. 
 
 He had frequently written to, Josephine through these 
 melancholy months. Once lie wrote : " To me death 
 would now be a blessing. But I would once more see 
 Josephine," and he saw her before his departure. 
 
 Four days before he left Fontainebleau for Elba, he 
 wrote, ' Adieu, my dear Josephine. Be resigned, as I 
 am, and never forget him who never forgot, and who 
 never will forget you. Farewell, Josephine." 
 
 She longed to follow him to Elba, but waited to see if 
 Marie Louise would join him. At first Marie Louise 
 desired to go to him, but was prevailed upon by her 
 father, the Emperor Francis, to return to Austria, where 
 she and her son became virtually prisoners. She finally 
 retired to the Duchy of Parma, which the allies had 
 given her, and later married her chamberlain, Count de 
 Neipperg, an Austrian general. 
 
 Josephine Avrote to Napoleon : " I have been on the 
 point of quitting France to follow your footsteps, and to 
 consecrate to you the remainder of an existence which 
 you so long embellished. A single motive restrains me, 
 and that you may divine. . . . Say but the word, and I 
 depart,"
 
 74 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 As soon as Napoleon went to Elba, Josephine's health 
 rapidly declined. She caiight cold in driving in the 
 park at Malmaison. When near death she said to 
 Hortense, " I can say with truth, in this, my dying hour, 
 that the first Avife of Napoleon never caused a single 
 tear to flow." 
 
 Napoleon landed at Elba, May 4, 1814. A month 
 later, May 29, Josephine died, uttering, with her last 
 breath, "Napoleon! Elba!" 
 
 " I have seen," said Mademoiselle Avrillon, the first 
 lady of her bedchamber, " the Empress Josephine's sleej>- 
 lessness and her terrible dreams. I have known her to 
 pass whole days buried, in the gloomiest thought. I 
 know what I have seen and heard, and I am sure that 
 grief killed her!" 
 
 Napoleon's mother, a woman of sixty-four, and his 
 sister Pauline, joined him at Elba. The latter had 
 married Prince Korghese in 1803, but they soon sepa- 
 rated. After several years they were reconciled to each 
 other. She died at Florence in 1825. 
 
 Napoleon remained at Elba ten months, when he 
 escaped, landed at Cannes, Mar. 1, 1815, raised an 
 army in France as if by magic, and entered Paris at its 
 head, Mar. 20. 
 
 The people seemed glad to be rid of Louis XVIII., 
 who fled at midnight, Mar. 19. Napoleon said, with 
 much truth, "The Pxmrbons, during their exile, had 
 learned nothing, and forgotten nothing." The Grand 
 Army joyously received their leader. The people 
 shouted themselves hoarse. They wept, and sang songs 
 of thanksgiving. Paris was brilliant with illuminations. 
 When he reached the Tuileries, he was seized and borne 
 aloft above the heads of the throng. The ladies of the
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 75 
 
 court, says Alison, "received him with transports, and 
 imprinted fervent kisses on his cheeks, his hands, and 
 even his dress. Never was such a scene witnessed in 
 history." Hortense and her two children were at the 
 Tuileries to welcome Napoleon. 
 
 The allies cared little whom France wished to rule her. 
 They preferred the conservative Bourbons or indeed any- 
 body who would not disturb the so-called balance of 
 power in Europe. They at once banded themselves to- 
 gether, England, Austria, Kussia, Prussia, Portugal, 
 Spain, and Sweden, to crush this " enemy and disturber 
 of the world." 
 
 A million men were soon raised by the allies, and 
 Napoleon brought together over 200,000. He decided at 
 once to take the offensive rather than let the allies in- 
 vade France. He left Paris for Belgium, June 12, 1815, 
 taking with him about 120,000 men. He drove the 
 Prussians out of Charleroi, and on June 1(5 gained a 
 victory over the Prussian marshal, Blttcher, at Ligny. 
 Jomini, who is usually authentic, says Napoleon had 
 72,000 in the battle, and Blucher from 80,000 to 1)0,000. 
 It was a hotly contested battle-field in which the Prus- 
 sians lost from 12,000 to 20,000 men. Thiers says 30,000. 
 
 Blticher had his gray charger, given him by the Prince 
 Regent of England, shot under him, and Avas nearly 
 killed in the retreat. 
 
 The same day occurred the desperate battle of Quatre- 
 Bras, in which Marshal Ney was defeated. 
 
 On June 18, 1815, the decisive battle of Waterloo was 
 fought, nine miles south-east of Brussels. Napoleon's 
 forces, according to Jomini and Thiers, were 70,000 in 
 number ; Seeley and Hopes say 72,000. Wellington had 
 about 68,000.
 
 7G NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 The ground was so drenched by rains that the battle 
 was not begun till a little past eleven. Both sides 
 fought desperately. Blucher, a few miles to the right of 
 Wellington, at Wavre, had promised to join him. Napo- 
 leon had told Marshal Grouchy to follow the Prussians 
 and thus prevent their union with the English. He 
 started too late for Wavre ; he did not take the advice 
 of some of his officers to hasten to Napoleon when they 
 heard the sound of battle, and his 33,000 men failed to 
 help at Waterloo. Hopes gives an interesting account 
 of this in the Atlantic Monthly, June, 1881, " Who lost 
 Waterloo ? " 
 
 All day long the battle raged. Hand to hand combats 
 were constant. The battle seemed in favor of the 
 French. Meantime Blucher was coming from Wavre, 
 with his guns sinking axle-deep in the mud. " We shall 
 never get on," was heard on all sides. " We must get 
 on," said the bluff Bliicher ; " I have given my word to 
 Wellington." 
 
 Napoleon kept watching for Grouchy. Early in the 
 afternoon about 30,000 Prussians under Bulow had come 
 to Wellington's assistance. Night came on and the fir- 
 ing of musketry was heard. " There's Grouchy ! " said 
 the Emperor. His aide-de-camp, Labedoyere, rushed to 
 announce it to the army. " Marshal Grouchy is arriving, 
 the Guard is going to charge. Courage ! courage ! 'tis all 
 over with the English." 
 
 " One last shout of hope burst from every rank," says 
 M. Fleury de Chaboulon, ex-secretary of the Emperor ; 
 " the wounded who were still capable of taking a few 
 steps returned to the combat, and thousands of voices 
 eagerly repeated, Forward ! forward ! " 
 
 It was not Grouchy, but Blucher with thirty or forty
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 77 
 
 thousand fresh troops. The Imperial Guard did indeed 
 charge with all theif wonted impetuosity. They were 
 mowed down like grain. Ney, with five horses shot 
 under him, marched on foot with his drawn sword. 
 Napoleon watched them, pale, yet calm. " All is lost ! " 
 said he, "the Guard recoils!" 
 
 The Emperor was everywhere in the battle. "Death 
 shuns you. You will be made a prisoner," said his 
 generals, and an officer seized the bridle of his horse and 
 dragged him away. 
 
 The French were completely overcome, and the Prus- 
 sians pursued them with great vigor. It is estimated that 
 the French lost thirty thousand on the field of Waterloo, 
 and the loss of the allies was probably not much less. It 
 was one of the most bloody battles of modern times. 
 
 Napoleon returned to Paris, and then retired to Mal- 
 maison. He abdicated in favor of his son, Napoleon 1 1. ; 
 but the allies, when they captured Paris a second time, 
 July 7, 1815, placed Louis XVIII. again on the throne. 
 
 Napoleon repaired to Kochefort with the hope that he 
 might embark for America, but the coast was so block- 
 aded by the English steamers that this was impossible. 
 He surrendered himself to go on board the English ship, 
 Bellerophon, July la, with the hope that he should find 
 a generous foe. He soon learned, to his inexpressible 
 grief, that he was destined for St. Helena. On Aug. 7 
 he was transferred to the Northumberland, and sailed 
 for his lonely place of exile, which he reached Oct. 1(5, 
 1815. 
 
 The Island of St. Helena, ten miles broad and seven 
 long, is in the Atlantic Ocean, fourteen hundred miles 
 west of the west coast of South Africa. It is composed 
 of rugged mountains of volcanic origin, with little vege-
 
 78 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 tation. Wherever a vessel could approach a fort was 
 planted, so that the island formed a* complete prison. 
 
 Lieutenant John li. Glover, who accompanied the Brit- 
 ish admiral who took Napoleon to St. Helena, said of 
 the island (Century, for November, 189,3) : " Nothing can 
 possibly be less prepossessing, nay, more horribly for- 
 bidding, than the first appearance of this isolated and 
 apparently burnt up barren rock, which promises neither 
 refreshment nor pleasure. . . . During our eight months' 
 residence we experienced little variation, and had con- 
 tinued rains. The climate is by no means healthy, . . . 
 the children being sickly, and the adults suffering from 
 the liver, of which complaint many of our men died." 
 
 Here Napoleon lived for six years, till his death, May 
 5, 1821, at the age of fifty-two, of a cancer in the stomach, 
 the same disease which had killed his father. He was 
 allowed to take with him to St. Helena three of his 
 generals and their families, and a secretary, Las Cases. 
 
 His jailer, Sir Hudson Lowe, seems to have been a 
 most unfortunate choice in the surveillance of a high- 
 spirited and remarkable man. 
 
 Napoleon was allowed to walk or ride only within cer- 
 tain limits, with a British officer near at hand. His 
 accommodations were poor and plain. "The rats,'' says 
 Dr. O'Meara, " are in numbers almost incredible. I have 
 frequently seen them assemble like broods of chickens 
 round the, offal thrown out of the kitchen." Besides he 
 says, through the roof " the rain entered in torrents." 
 Napoleon's letters were all opened, both those sent or re- 
 ceived. He was never addressed as Emperor, England 
 ungenerously insisting that he be called simply General 
 Bonaparte. Hooks addressed to '' The Emperor" were not 
 delivered to him. William O'Connor Morris says: "His
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 79 
 
 humiliation was degrading and needless. . . . Admit- 
 ting that the allies had a right to deprive him of liberty, 
 they had no right to subject him to insult and wrong ; 
 and St. Helena is a blot on the fair fame of Eng- 
 land." From his idolized son he was not permitted to 
 hear. 
 
 He said to Countess Montholon, at St. Helena, "On 
 receiving into my arms that infant, so many times fer- 
 vently implored of Heaven, could I have believed that 
 one day he would have become the source of my greatest 
 anguish ? Yes, madame, every day he costs me tears of 
 blood. I imagine to myself the most horrid events, 
 which I cannot remove from my mind. I see either the 
 potion or the empoisoned fruit which is about to termi- 
 nate the days of that young innocent by the most cruel 
 sufferings." 
 
 The boy worshipped his father. "Tell him," said the 
 little King of Home, then four years old, when Meneval, 
 Napoleon's former secretary, left Marie Louise in Austria, 
 "that I love him dearly." He looked like his father, 
 had his ambition, and, as he grew to manhood, longed to 
 return to France. When Charles X. was overthrown in 
 18130, he said, "Why was I not there to take my 
 chance?" He was then nineteen. Napoleon had fore- 
 seen the fall of the ]>ourbons, as he said at St. Helena, 
 " They will not maintain their position after my death ; 
 a reaction in my favor will take place everywhere, even 
 in England." 
 
 Napoleon II. died at Vienna, July 22, 1832, at the age 
 of twenty-one, of consumption, at Schonbrunn, the sum- 
 mer home of the Emperor. He expired upon the- same 
 narrow bed on which his father slept when lie came 
 as the conqueror of Austria. General Ilartmann said,
 
 80 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 " Having passed my life on battle-fields, I have often 
 seen death, but I never saw a soldier die more bravely." 
 
 When near death, Napoleon II. said, "So young, and 
 is there no remedy ? My birth and my death will be 
 the only points of remembrance." He lies buried in the 
 plain Church of the Capucines, beside his mother. His 
 heart is in a small silver urn in St. Augustine's Church. 
 
 For six years Napoleon lived in this prison at St. He- 
 lena, dictating his memoirs and commentaries to Count 
 Montholon, Baron Gourgaud, and Count Las Cases. His 
 health failed rapidly after the first year. Not taking 
 exercise, on account of the constant espionage, he was 
 finally prevailed upon by the physician to work a little 
 in a garden, which he found a relief. 
 
 At the end of a year, Las Cases was banished with his 
 son to England, because lie had forwarded a letter to Lady 
 Clavering, telling how badly the Emperor was treated, 
 and it had not passed through the hands of Sir Hudson 
 Lowe. This was a great blow to Napoleon, as he was the 
 oidy one who could read, speak, and understand English. 
 Dr. O'Meara was also obliged to leave St. Helena on 
 account of Sir Hudson Lowe's treatment of him. 
 
 After some months of illness, the friends of Napoleon 
 were permitted to send Dr. Antommarchi, a Corsican, to 
 him. In the spring of 1821, Napoleon grew feeble and 
 emaciated. He made his will, remembering his friends 
 most generously. April 22, from perspiration on account 
 of his great pain, Count Montholon writes, " On this 
 night I changed the Emperors linen seven times." April 
 25, as Montholon watched by his bedside, at four o'clock 
 in the morning, Napoleon exclaimed, "I have just seen 
 my good Josephine, but she would not embrace me. She 
 disappeared at the moment when I was about to take her
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 81 
 
 in my arms. She was seated there. . . . She is not 
 changed. She is still the same, full of devotion to me. 
 She told me that we were about to see each other again, 
 never more to part. Did you see her ? " 
 
 Three days later he gave directions about his death, 
 asking that his heart might be put in spirits of wine, and 
 carried to Parma, to Marie Louise. " You will tell her 
 that I tenderly loved her," he said, "that I never ceased 
 to love her." . 
 
 Five days before his death he dictated for two hours 
 his desires about the Palace of Versailles, and the organ- 
 ization of the National Guard for the defence of Paris. 
 To the last he carried out his chosen motto, "Everything 
 for the French people." 
 
 He remembered his servants, and wished to see them 
 and say good-by. One of them exclaimed excitedly, " I 
 will die for him." 
 
 May 2 the Emperor was delirious, and, thinking he 
 was with his army, shouted, " Desaix ! Massena ! Ah ! 
 victory is declaring. Run ! hasten ! press the charge ! 
 They are ours ! " He sprang from the bed and fell pros- 
 trate upon the floor. 
 
 On the night of May 4 a tornado swept the island, 
 uprooting the trees which the Emperor had planted. 
 During the night, says Count Montholon, "Twice I 
 thought I distinguished the unconnected words, ' France 
 arme'e, fete cTarmee (head of the army) Josephine.' " 
 
 During the whole of May 5 he lay quiet and peaceful, 
 conscious, his right hand out of bed, seemingly absorbed 
 in deep meditation. At eleven minutes before six o'clock 
 he died. 
 
 England would not permit his body to be embalmed or 
 to be carried to France, as he had requested, or his heart
 
 82 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 to be given to Marie Louise ; so, at half-past twelve, on 
 May 8, he was buried under some willows at St. Helena. 
 The English garrison, two thousand five hundred strong, 
 which had been on the island to keep Napoleon from 
 escaping, now followed his body to the grave. Three 
 volleys of fifteen guns each were fired over it. The 
 soldiers had unbounded admiration for the unrivalled 
 leader, and begged to kiss the blue cloak which he wore 
 at Marengo, and which was thrown over the coffin. 
 
 " We were not allowed," says Dr. Antommarchi, " to 
 place over the grave either a stone or a modest inscrip- 
 tion, the governor [Sir Hudson Lowe] opposing this pious 
 wish." 
 
 The Emperor had written in his will, " It is my wish 
 that my ashes may repose on the banks of the Seine, in 
 the midst of the French people, whom I have loved so 
 well." 
 
 On May 5, 1840, nineteen years after Napoleon's death, 
 the French, now that Louis Philippe had become king, 
 asked England that his body might be removed to 
 France. Consent being given, Prince de Joinville, the 
 son of the king, with Gourgaud, Bertram!, and the son 
 of Las Cases, with two armed ships, proceeded on their 
 sad errand, bearing an ebony coffin, with the one word, 
 " Napoleon," on it in gold letters. Within was a coffin 
 of lead. The funeral pall was of purple velvet, embroi- 
 dered witli bees, and bordered with ermine. 
 
 At midnight, Oct. 5, 1840, the work of exhuming the 
 body of the Emperor was begun. At ten o'clock in the 
 forenoon the coffin was reached, so difficult had it been to 
 remove the heavy stones and cement which covered the 
 vault. The first coffin of mahogany was opened, then 
 the leaden one, then one of mahogany, then one of tin.
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 83 
 
 The body Avas found wonderfully preserved, and seemed 
 as though recently interred. The hands were perfect, 
 with the smooth skin as if in life. The clothes retained 
 their color, the dark green coat faced with red, the 
 white pantaloons, and the hat, resting on the thigh. The 
 body was exposed to the air only two minutes ; the cof- 
 fins were re-sealed and placed in those brought from 
 France. 
 
 The ships reached France early in December. Never 
 was there such a funeral in Paris. One hundred and 
 fifty thousand soldiers and more than a million citizens 
 assisted at the magnificent obsequies. The funeral car, 
 its cenotaph rising fifty feet from the ground, was drawn 
 by sixteen black horses, four abreast, covered witli cloth 
 of gold. The Emperor's war-horse was draped with a 
 veil of purple crape, embroidered with bees. The rem- 
 nants of the Old Guard were there the hosts who 
 idolized Napoleon and would have died for him ; but the 
 son, the King of Koine, was sleeping in a coffin in Aus- 
 tria, and Josephine was resting in the church at Rueil, 
 two miles from Malmaison. 
 
 At the funeral service three hundred musicians played 
 Mozart's Requiem in the Church of the Invalides, where 
 now the great hero rests. The seemingly countless throng 
 of people were moved to tears. Could lie who was its 
 object have looked forward to all this love and homage, 
 when he lay dying among the rocks of St. Helena, the 
 agony might have been lessened. Could he have fore- 
 seen how tens of thousands, every year, from all the 
 world, would stand by that tomb, under the dome of the 
 Invalides, and do honor to the wonderful soldier and 
 statesman, that bitter exile and death might not have 
 been quite so desolate and pathetic.
 
 84 NAPOLEON HONAPARTE. 
 
 " Posterity," as he said, " will do him justice." Already 
 the harshness of his critics is giving place to a correct 
 estimate of his extraordinary genius. 
 
 " I have formed and carried into effect," he said to Dr. 
 O'Meara, " a code of laws that will bear my name to the 
 most distant posterity. From nothing I raised myself to 
 be the most powerful monarch of the world." 
 
 Napier thought Napoleon " the greatest man of whom 
 history makes mention." " Never," says Alison, " were 
 talents of the highest, genius of the most exalted kind, 
 more profusely bestowed upon a human being." 
 
 Napoleon worked incessantly. He saved every mo- 
 ment. He believed in himself. He had great courage, 
 will, and energy. He said to Las Cases that he liked 
 tu'o-o'cloclt-in-the-mornhirj courage, which he had rarely 
 met. "I mean," he said, "unprepared courage; that 
 which is necessary on an unexpected occasion, and 
 which, in spite of the most unforeseen events, leaves full 
 freedom of judgment and decision." 
 
 Napoleon had this courage. Three horses were killed 
 under him at Toulon, several in Italy, and three or four 
 at the siege of Saint Jean d'Acre. When his body was 
 prepared for burial, it was found that there were several 
 scars upon it, some slight, and three very distinct. 
 
 He hated selfishness. Madame la Generale Durant, 
 first lady to the Empress Marie Louise, relates in her 
 book, " Napoleon and Marie Louise," that once, when 
 Marie Louise said everybody was selfish, and that she 
 was also, he replied, " Don't say, my Louise, that you 
 are selfish ; I know no more hideous vice." 
 
 He had great dignity combined with kindliness. After 
 a ball, during which he conversed with Goethe, he wrote 
 Josephine : " I have attended a ball in Weimar. The
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 85 
 
 i 
 
 Emperor Alexander danced. But I ? No ! Forty years 
 are forty years." 
 
 " He had a directness of action," says Emerson, " never 
 before combined with so much comprehension. . . . Here 
 was a man who, in each moment and emergency, knew 
 what to do next. . . . Few men have any next; they 
 live from hand to mouth, without plan, and are ever at 
 the end of their line, and, after each action, wait for an 
 impulse from abroad. Napoleon had been the first man 
 of the world, if his ends had been purely public. . . . 
 
 " We cannot, in the universal imbecility, indecision, 
 and indolence of men, sufficiently congratulate ourselves 
 on this strong and ready actor, who took occasion by the 
 beard, and showed us how much may be accomplished by 
 the mere force of such virtues as all men possess in less 
 degrees ; namely, by punctuality, by personal attention, 
 by courage and thoroughness." 
 
 While indomitable in battle, he was, says General 
 Gourgaud, "of all generals, whether ancient or modern, 
 the one who has paid the greatest attention to the 
 wounded. The intoxication of victory never could make 
 him forget them. His first thought after every battle 
 was always of them." 
 
 Count Segur relates that, after the battle of Borodino, 
 when Napoleon and his escort were going over the field, 
 a horse stepped on a dying man. who expired Avith a 
 groan. Napoleon uttered a shriek of pain. Some one, 
 to soothe him, said, u It was only a Russian." With 
 much warmth, Napoleon replied, '' After victory there 
 are no enemies, but only men." 
 
 His despatch Avas marvellous. He Avas generous, and 
 never forgot the poorest Avho needed his kindness. He 
 Avas ambitious ; but Europe, fearing him, forced him into
 
 86 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 many of his wars. He knew how to govern himself as 
 well as others. He said of Lannes, one of his generals 
 who lost his temper, that a man could not be great who 
 permitted himself to get angry. The officer heard of 
 this remark, and ever after controlled his temper. 
 
 Napoleon was more moral than his age. He loved 
 children and nature. " How many times," says Bour- 
 rienne, as they walked toward Rueil from Malmaison, 
 " has the bell of the village church interrupted our 
 most serious conversations ! He would stop, lest the 
 noise of our footsteps should drown any portion of the 
 delightful sound." 
 
 He believed, in an age of unbelief. He said to Ber- 
 trand at St. Helena, " I know men, and I tell you that 
 Jesus Christ is not a man. . . . Everything in him as- 
 tonishes me. His spirit overawes me, and his will con- 
 founds me. Between him and whoever else in the world 
 there is no possible term of comparison." 
 
 Napoleon compared the reign of Christ with that of 
 Caesar, Alexander, Hannibal, and of himself ; " My armies 
 have forgotten me, even while living, as the Carthagin- 
 ian army forgot Hannibal. Such is our power ! A 
 single battle lost crushes us, and adversity scatters our 
 friends. . . . What an abyss between my deep misery 
 and the eternal reign of Christ, which is proclaimed, 
 loved, adored, and which is extended over all the earth ! 
 Is this to die? Is it not rather to live? The deatli of 
 Christ ! It is the death of God." 
 
 The life of Napoleon, truly called "the Great," is more 
 interesting and pathetic than any novel. It will always 
 remain one of the marvels of the world.
 
 LORD NELSON.
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 IT is a significant fact that the life of a leader is never 
 an easy one. Nelson's life was one of struggle from 
 beginning to end ; a battle with poverty, lack of appreci- 
 ation ofttimes by his country, much ill-health, domestic 
 disquietude, and many hardships. He died at forty- 
 seven, the greatest naval hero of the age. , 
 
 Horatio Nelson, the son of a country rector, the Rev. 
 Edmund Nelson, was born Sept. 29, 1758, at Burnham 
 Thorpe, Norfolk, England. The mother, Catherine, was 
 descended from a good family, her grandmother being 
 an elder sister of Sir Robert Walpole, Earl of Oxford. 
 Catherine died when her little son, Horatio, was nine 
 years old, leaving eight out of eleven children to mourn 
 their capable mother. Nelson said of her later, just a 
 short time before he died, "The thought of former days 
 brings all my mother into my heart, which shows itself 
 in my eyes." 
 
 The boy Nelson was fearless and ambitious. It is 
 related of him that, straying away from the house when 
 a mere child, his grandmother thought he had been 
 carried off by gypsies. "When found sitting beside a 
 brook Avhich he could not cross, the old lady said, " I. 
 wonder, child, that hunger and fear did not drive you 
 home." 
 
 (t Fear," said the boy, " I never saw fear ; what is it ? " 
 87
 
 88 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 At another time, some pears were wanted from the 
 schoolmaster's garden. Without debating the question 
 of the sin of stealing, nobody dared venture for fear of 
 the consequences. Horatio volunteered to get them, was 
 lowered at night by a sheet from his window, gathered 
 the pears, and gave them to his mates, keeping none for 
 himself. " I only took them," he said, " because every 
 other boy was afraid." 
 
 His father was poor, always in frail health, and appar- 
 ently unable to do much for his numerous progeny. 
 Horatio determined to do something for himself. Seeing 
 in the newspaper that his uncle on his mother's side, 
 Captain Maurice Suckling, had been appointed in the 
 navy to the ship Raisonnable, of sixty-four guns, Horatio 
 said to his brother, a year and a half older than him- 
 self, " Do, William, write to my father, and tell him 
 that I should like to go to sea with Uncle Maurice." 
 
 Mr. Nelson was at Bath for his health. He at once 
 wrote to the captain about his twelve-year-old son, who 
 was as sickly in body as himself. The uncle wrote back, 
 " What has poor Horatio done, who is so weak, that he, 
 al)ove all the rest, should be sent to rough it out at sea ? 
 But let him come, and the first time we go into action, a 
 cannon-ball may knock off his head, and provide for him 
 at once." 
 
 His father took him to London, from whence he found 
 his way to Chatham, where the ship was lying. His 
 uncle was absent at the time, and the first few days 
 were lonely in the extreme. The sailors were rough, 
 their treatment by officers often harsh, not to say cruel, 
 and the lad who had so yearned for the sea soon came to 
 despise the Royal Navy. 
 
 He soon went on a West Indian voyage, in a small
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 89 
 
 merchant ship commanded by Mr. John Rath bone, who 
 had served as master's mate under Captain Suckling. 
 Here, with keen observation, and a constant desire to 
 rise in his profession, he learned rapidly. 
 
 Later, young Nelson went as coxswain under Captain 
 Lutwidge in the Carcass on a Polar voyage. They were 
 beset by the ice; left their ships, expecting they would 
 be crushed, and dragged their boats by hand; had the 
 usual tights with walruses and bears, Nelson exposing 
 himself in an encounter with the latter, that he might 
 carry a skin home to his father. 
 
 Nelson's next voyage, at fifteen, was in the Seahorse, of 
 twenty guns, to the East Indies in a squadron under 
 Sir Edward Hughes. He was stationed at the foretop 
 at watch and watch, where his attention to duty soon 
 made him a midshipman. 
 
 After eighteen months in this debilitating climate, 
 he became dangerously ill, and was sent home in the 
 Dolphin in 1776. The youth of sixteen became very 
 despondent. " I felt impressed," he says, " with an 
 idea that I should never rise in my profession. My 
 mind was staggered with a view of the 'difficulties I had 
 to surmount, and the little interest I possessed. I could 
 discover no means of reaching the object of my ambi- 
 tion. After a long and gloomy re. very, in which 1 
 almost wished myself overboard, a sudden flow of patri- 
 otism was kindled within me and presented my king and 
 country as my patrons. My mind exulted in the idea. 
 'Well, then,' I exclaimed, ' [ will be a hero, and, confid- 
 ing in Providence, I will brave every danger.' " 
 
 From that time he often told his friend Hardy, " a 
 radiant orb was suspended in his mind's eye, which 
 urged him onward to renown."
 
 90 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 Captain Suckling had now become comptroller of the 
 navy ; and as soon as Nelson was recovered, through his 
 uncle's influence, he was made fourth lieutenant of the 
 Worcester, a ship of sixty-four guns, commanded by 
 Mark Robinson, going out to Gibraltar. At nineteen he 
 passed an excellent examination in naval matters, and 
 was made second lieutenant on the Lowestoffe, of thirty- 
 two guns, under Captain William Locker, then fitting out 
 for the West Indies. The vessel arrived at Carlisle P>ay, 
 Barbadoes, July 4, 1777. 
 
 Nelson soon showed his usual bravery. An American 
 letter-of-marque was captured. The first lieutenant was 
 ordered to board her ; but, unable to reach her by reason 
 of the high sea, Nelson volunteered, and though his 
 boat swept over the deck of the American privateer, he 
 finally got aboard, and made her his prize. 
 
 Soon after Nelson was appointed third lieutenant of 
 the flag-ship Bristol, and in 1779 commander of the 
 Badger, protecting the Mosquito Coast and the Bay of 
 Honduras from the privateers. Many French merchant- 
 men were captured. 
 
 During these years from 1777 to 1780, the skirmishes 
 with the Spaniards and French, though marked with 
 great energy and bravery on the part of Nelson, were 
 ruinous to him and his men. Hundreds of the latter 
 died from the malaria of the climate, or were poisoned 
 by the bites of serpents. Nelson himself, more dead 
 than alive, was carried back to England, and for many 
 months remained at Bath, endeavoring to regain his 
 health. 
 
 Fretting at his inactive life, he applied for a position 
 which was not granted for some months ; and then he 
 was sent, much against his will, to the bleak North Sea
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 91 
 
 to protect the home trade. Here he spent a winter in 
 discomfort, but he learned many things which were of 
 inestimable value in one of his great battles afterwards. 
 
 In 1782 he sailed in his ship, the Albemarle, for New- 
 foundland and Quebec, and while cruising along the 
 coast, captured the Harmony, a schooner which belonged 
 to a fisherman by the name of Carver. Nelson em- 
 ployed him as a pilot in Boston Harbor, and then 
 restored him the schooner and cargo, giving him a cer- 
 tificate so that no other vessel should capture him. 
 This certificate was framed, and living in the house of 
 Isaac Davis of Boston. Carver was so grateful to 
 Nelson that he came afterwards to the Albemarle, 
 at the hazard of his life, bringing a present of sheep, 
 poultry, and fresh provisions. The scurvy was raging 
 on board, and the ship's company had not enjoyed a 
 fresh meal for fiv.e months, so that Carver's present was 
 most acceptable. 
 
 While at Quebec in 1782, when he was twenty-four, 
 Nelson fell in love with an American lady, whom he 
 much desired to marry, but was prevented by the de- 
 cision of his friend Alexander Davison, who hurried him 
 off to sea. 
 
 In October of this same year, 1782, Nelson sailed for 
 New York, where he found the BarHeur with twelve sail- 
 of-the-line under command of Lord Hood. The latter 
 introduced him to Prince William Henry, Duke of Clar- 
 ence, afterwards William IV. The duke was greatly 
 pleased with the boyish-looking captain, dressed in his 
 full laced uniform, with his hair tied in a stiff Hessian 
 tail of an extraordinary length. The duke says of his 
 quaint figure, " I had never seen anything like it before, 
 nor could I imagine who he was nor what he came about.
 
 92 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 But his address and conversation were irresistibly pleas- 
 ing; and when he spoke on professional subjects, it was 
 with an enthusiasm that showed me he was no common 
 being." 
 
 Under Lord Hood, Nelson sailed to the West Indies, 
 and remained there till January, 1783, when peace with 
 France was concluded. 
 
 "I have closed the war," said Nelson, "without a 
 fortune ; but there is not a speck in my character. True 
 honor, I hope, predominates in my mind far above 
 riches." 
 
 On July 11 Nelson was presented at court, and re- 
 ceived much attention from the king, perhaps on account 
 of the good words of Prince William, his son, for the 
 sailor. The young man of twenty-rive had not particu- 
 larly distinguished himself as yet, but he had improved 
 every opportunity of making himself familiar with naval 
 matters. He would be ready for the great opportunity 
 if it ever came. 
 
 As he was now on half-pay, he determined to go to 
 France for a time to study the French language. Here 
 he fell in love with Miss Andrews, one of the three 
 daughters of an English clergyman. As his income 
 was only 130 a year, he wrote his uncle, William 
 Suckling, asking that he might be allowed 100 a year 
 in addition, that he might be able to marry. This re- 
 quest was granted; but Miss Andrews perhaps did not 
 give her consent, or Nelson thought that 230 would 
 not support a wife in much luxury, for she afterwards 
 married a clergyman by the name of Farrer, and later 
 Colonel Warne. Nelson evidently admired her greatly ; 
 for he wrote to his brother William, " She has such 
 accomplishments, that, had I a million of money, I am
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 93 
 
 sure I should at this moment make her an offer of 
 them." 
 
 In the spring of 1784 he was appointed to the Boreas, 
 of twenty -eight guns, and sailed for the Leeward Islands, 
 taking with him Lady Hughes and her family to her 
 husband, Sir Richard, who was in command at that 
 station. 
 
 There were about thirty midshipmen on board, and to 
 all Nelson was extremely kind and sympathetic. When 
 a boy was at first afraid to go up the masts, Nelson 
 Avould say, " I am going a race to the masthead, and beg 
 that I may meet you there." When they met at the 
 top, Nelson would speak cheerfully and say, " How 
 much any person was to be pitied who could fancy there 
 was any danger, or even anything disagreeable, in the 
 attempt." 
 
 He was always the first to arrive on deck with his 
 quadrant at noon. When he made visits of ceremony 
 he always took some of his lads with him. When he 
 went to dine with the governor of Barbadoes, he said, 
 "Your Excellency must excuse me for bringing one of 
 my midshipmen. I make it a rule to introduce them to 
 all the good company I can, as they have few to look up 
 to besides myself during the time they are at sea." 
 
 Through life Nelson showed this same thoughtfulness 
 and tenderness for his men. He never lost the sensi- 
 tiveness of his childhood, which made him cry bitterly 
 when lie had hurt a pet lamb in a shoemaker's shop, by 
 accidentally oj>ening a door against it. He was always 
 opposed to harsh discipline, and ruled by love rather 
 than by fear. No wonder it was said of him, when 
 other great men were mentioned, " Nelson was the man 
 to love."
 
 94 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 At the Island of Nevis, Nelson fell in love for the 
 third time. The lady was Mrs. Fanny Nisbet, whose 
 husband, a physician, had died insane, eighteen months 
 after their marriage. Her uncle, Mr. Herbert, was the 
 president of Nevis. She had a son Josiah, several years 
 old, to whom Nelson became attached ; and this, of 
 course, helped to win the favor of the mother. 
 
 Three months before their marriage he writes to her 
 from Antigua, where he has Prince William Henry with 
 him : " What is it to attend on princes ! let me attend 
 on you and I am satisfied. Some are born for attendants 
 on great men ; I rather think that is not my particular 
 province. His Royal Highness often tells me he be- 
 lieves I am married, for he never saw a lover so easy or 
 say so little of the object he has a regard for. When I 
 tell him I certainly am not, then he is sure I must have 
 a great esteem for you, and that it is not what is vul- 
 garly I do not much like the use of that word called 
 love. 
 
 " He is right ; my love is founded on esteem, the only 
 foundation that can make the passion last. I need not 
 tell you what you so well know, that I wish I had a 
 fortune to settle on you ; but I trust I have a good name, 
 and that certain events will bring the other about ; it is 
 my misfortune, not my fault. You can marry me only 
 from a sincere affection ; -therefore I ought to make you 
 a good husband, and I hope it will turn out that I 
 shall." 
 
 Again he writes, " I daily thank God, who ordained 
 that I should be attached to you. He has, I firmly be- 
 lieve, intended it as a blessing to me, and I am well 
 convinced you will not disappoint his beneficent inten- 
 tions."
 
 HO RATIO NELSON. 95 
 
 These are certainly very different letters from those 
 which he wrote in after years to Lady Hamilton, whom 
 he idolized. Undoubtedly Nelson mistook loneliness of 
 heart for love ; as he wrote to Lady Hamilton years after, 
 " I never did love any one else. ... I have been the 
 world around, and in every corner of it, and never yet 
 saw your equal, or even one who could be put in com- 
 parison with you." Nelson and Mrs. Nisbet were mar- 
 ried March 12, 1787, Prince William giving away the 
 bride. Many of his friends in the service regretted that 
 he had married before his honors had been more fully 
 won. " The Navy," said Captain Pringle, the day after 
 the wedding, "yesterday lost one of its greatest orna- 
 ments by Nelson's marriage. It is a national loss that 
 such an officer should marry ; had it not been for that 
 circumstance, I foresaw that Nelson would become the 
 greatest man in the service." 
 
 Nelson took his wife to England, arriving at Spithead 
 July 4, about four months after their marriage. He had 
 applied for a ship-of-the-line, but no notice was taken 
 of the request. He retired with his wife to the parson- 
 age at Burnham Thorpe, and at the request of his aged 
 father remained there. He was in very poor health and 
 living on half-pay. " From the 30th of November, 1787, 
 to the 30th of January, 1793," says W. Clark Russell, in 
 his life of the hero, " Nelson, whose delicate form en- 
 closed the genius of the greatest sea-captain the world 
 has ever produced, was compelled by departmental 
 neglect to lie by in an almost poverty-stricken retire- 
 ment." 
 
 Again and again he asked for employment. The 
 prince recommended him to Lord Chatham, but nothing 
 was done. In December, 1702, Nelson wrote, "If your
 
 96 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 lordships should be pleased to appoint me to a cockle- 
 boat I should be grateful." He would have left the ser- 
 vice, if he had had means to live on shore. He was 
 irritated beyond measure by this neglect, and perhaps 
 Mrs. Nelson did not find the parsonage a perfect haven 
 of rest and peace. 
 
 Finally Nelson concluded to take refuge in France. 
 That country had become a republic Sept. 21, 1792. 
 She soon found herself, on account of her democratic 
 principles, engaged in war with various countries, Great 
 Britain among them. Feb. 1, 1793, she declared war 
 against England, Holland, and Spain. Sardinia was 
 already at war with France. As soon as England was in- 
 volved in war, Nelson was needed ; and lie was assigned 
 to the Agamemnon, a fine ship of sixty -four guns, called 
 by the seamen, " Old Eggs-and-Bacon." She sailed for 
 Gibraltar June 27, 1793, with Lord Hood's fleet, nine- 
 teen sail-of-tlje-line, and a convoy of merchant-ships. 
 
 When Lord Hood arrived in the Mediterranean, he 
 stationed his ships off Toulon, which soon surrendered 
 to the British, without firing a shot. Nelson was at once 
 ordered to Naples with despatches for Sir William Ham- 
 ilton, the British minister, and to ask for ten thousand 
 Italian troops, to help in the preservation of Toulon. 
 
 King Ferdinand and his queen, Maria Caroline, the 
 daughter of Maria Theresa of Austria, gave Nelson most 
 cordial welcome at Court, feeling that the English were 
 " the saviours of Italy." Sir William Hamilton told his 
 wife that he was going to introduce her to a little man, 
 not handsome, "but an English naval officer, who will 
 become the greatest man that England ever produced. I 
 know it from the few words I have already exchanged 
 with him. I pronounce that he will one day astonish the
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 97 
 
 world. . . . Let him be put in the room prepared for 
 Prince Augustus." 
 
 Lady Hamilton received Nelson with her accustomed 
 grace and cordiality. He wrote his wife, " She is a young 
 woman of amiable manners, and who does honor to the 
 station in which she is raised. . . . She has been won- 
 derfully kind and good to Josiah." 
 
 Nelson was at this time about thirty-five, and Lady 
 Hamilton five years younger, of the same age as his wife. 
 She was a woman of remarkable beauty and great sweet- 
 ness of manner. Southey said, " She was a woman whose 
 personal accomplishments have seldom been equalled, 
 and whose powers of mind were not less fascinating than 
 her person." Her history had been a strange one. Born 
 in extreme poverty, and early left an orphan by the death 
 of her father, she was for some years a nursery-maid and 
 servant, then a model for Romney, the famous artist, 
 who painted her twenty-three times, as Bacchante, Saint 
 Cecilia, a Magdalen, a Wood Nymph, Joan of Arc, etc., 
 and thought her the most beautiful human being he had 
 ever looked upon. 
 
 At this time she supported herself by her needle. Her 
 beauty attracted the attention of Mr. Charles Greville, 
 second son of Francis, Earl of Warwick, and Elizabeth, 
 daughter of Lord Archibald Hamilton. He educated 
 her, and she became skilled in music and languages. 
 She played finely on the harp. Her stage talents were 
 so great that she was offered two thousand guineas to 
 sing for the season at the Opera House in London. 
 Greville sent her to Naples with his uncle, Sir William 
 Hamilton, with the avowed object of perfecting her in 
 music, but in reality to abandon her, as he had become 
 somewhat straitened in circumstances.
 
 98 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 She loved Greville, and was deeply wounded at his 
 treatment. Sir William, a younger son of Lord Archi- 
 bald Hamilton, was at that time sixty-one, and Emma 
 Lyon twenty-eight. He had married for his first wife a 
 Welsh heiress, who had died nine years previously: In 
 1791, Sept. 6, he married Emma, who thus became Lady 
 Hamilton. He was a student of art, an author of 
 several volumes, and for thirty-six years minister to 
 Italy. 
 
 However blameworthy the previous life of Lady Ham- 
 ilton, Sir William was devoted to her, and said at his 
 death, twelve years later, " My incomparable Emma, you 
 have never, in thought, word, or deed, offended me ; and 
 let me thank you, again and again, for your affectionate 
 kindness to me all the time of our ten years' happy 
 union." 
 
 On leaving Naples, Nelson was despatched to Corsica 
 and Sardinia, to protect British trade and that of the 
 Grand Duke of Tuscany. He wrote to his wife, " This 
 island is to belong to England, to be governed by its own 
 laws, as Ireland, and a viceroy placed here with free 
 ports. Italy and Spain are jealous of our obtaining pos- 
 session ; it will command the Mediterranean." 
 
 The town of Bastia was taken by Nelson. " I am all 
 astonishment," he said, " when I reflect on what we have 
 achieved . . . four thousand in all, laying down their 
 arms to twelve hundred soldiers, marines, and seamen ! 
 I always was of opinion, have ever acted up to it, and 
 never had any reason to repent it, that one Englishman 
 was equal to three Frenchmen." 
 
 At the siege of Calvi, by the bursting of a shell in the 
 ground, sand and small gravel destroyed the sight of 
 Nelson's right eye. For two years Nelson was almost
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 99 
 
 constantly active. He wrote his wife, Aug. 2, 1796, 
 " Had all my actions been gazetted, not one fortnight 
 would have passed during the whole war without a letter 
 from me ; one day or other I will have a long gazette to 
 myseM. I feel that such an opportunity will be given 
 me. I cannot, if I am in the field of glory, be kept out 
 of sight ; wherever there is anything to be done, there 
 Providence is sure to direct my steps." 
 
 He had been made colonel of marines, and then com- 
 modore. The Agamemnon had been sent to Leghorn to 
 refit, so badly had she been damaged by shot. 
 
 Corsica was finally evacuated, and Nelson proceeded 
 to Gibraltar. Spain and France had now become allies. 
 Off Cape St. Vincent, on the coast of Portugal, a severe 
 battle was fought, February 14, 1797, between the Eng- 
 lish and Spanish fleets. The former had fifteen ships- 
 of-the-line, with four frigates, a sloop, and a cutter. The 
 latter had twenty-seven ships-of-the-line, with ten frig- 
 ates, and a brig. Nelson, in the Captain, was at one time 
 engaged with no less than nine line-of-battle ships. He 
 and his seamen sprang aboard the San Nicolas and t\ie 
 San Josef, he exclaiming, it is recorded, " Westminister 
 Abbey or victory ! " received the swords of some of the 
 Spanish officers, and in the midst of falling spars and 
 blinding smoke, showed themselves heroic. 
 
 For this successful battle Nelson received the Knight- 
 hood and Order of the Bath, and was made Rear-Ad- 
 miral. The sword of the Spanish admiral given to 
 Nelson on board the San Josef was presented to the 
 mayor and corporation of Norwich, the capital of the 
 county in which he was born. The freedom of the city 
 was voted to him. 
 
 His aged father wrote him, "The name and services
 
 100 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 of Nelson have sounded through this city of Bath 
 from the common ballad-singer to the public theatre." 
 
 His wife begged him " never to board again. Leave 
 it for captains. . . . You have been most wonderfully 
 protected ; you have done desperate actions enough^ 1 
 
 On the night of July 3, 1797, Cadiz, off the coast of 
 Spain, was bombarded. Nelson was in a most desperate 
 action. In a barge with twelve men, he was attacked 
 by a Spanish barge of twenty-six oars, with thirty in her 
 crew. A hand-to-hand fight ensued. The Spanish com- 
 mander and his launch were taken, and eighteen of his 
 men were killed. The life of Nelson was saved by a 
 trusted follower, John Sykes, who interposed his own 
 head to receive the blow of a Spanish sabre. He recov- 
 ered from his dangerous wound, " but did not live long 
 enough," says Southey, " to profit by the gratitude and 
 friendship of his commander." 
 
 On July 15 Nelson sailed in the ship Theseus for 
 Teneriffe, off the coast of Africa. On the evening of 
 July 24, he determined to attack the garrison of Santa 
 Cfuz. With the help of his step-son, Lieutenant Josiah 
 Nisbet, he burned his wife's letters before starting to 
 row ashore. Seeing that the young man was armed, he 
 begged him to remain in the ship, saying, " Should we 
 both fall, Josiah, what would become of your poor 
 mother ? The care of the Theseus falls to you ; stay 
 therefore, and take charge of her." 
 
 " The ship must take care of herself," said Nisbet ; 
 "I will go with you to-night if I never go again." 
 
 The expedition was a failure. Several of the boats 
 missed the pier in the darkness, some were struck by 
 shot and their men drowned ninety-seven men went 
 down in the fog and Nelson was shot through the
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 101 
 
 right elbow, as he was stepping out of his boat. As he 
 fell young Nisbet placed him in the bottom of the boat, 
 and laid his hat over the arm, lest the sight of the blood 
 should increase Nelson's faintness. Then taking a silk 
 handkerchief from his own neck, he bound it above the 
 elbow, thus saving the life of the admiral. One of the 
 bargemen, Lovel, tore his shirt into shreds to make a 
 bandage for the shattered arm. 
 
 When his boat reached the Theseus, Nelson declined 
 to be helped on board, and twisted the rope thrown over 
 the side of the ship round his left hand, saying, "Let 
 me alone ; I have yet my legs and one arm. Tell the sur- 
 geon to make haste and get his instruments. I know I 
 must lose my right arm ; so the sooner it is off, the 
 better." 
 
 When asked by the surgeon if he wished the arm em- 
 balmed that he might send it to England for burial, he 
 said, " Throw it into the hammock with the brave fellow 
 that was killed beside me," whose body was about to be 
 thrown overboard. 
 
 Nelson was greatly depressed after this failure, and 
 said, " A left-handed admiral will never again be con- 
 sidered as useful; therefore the sooner I get to a very 
 humble cottage the better, and make room for a sounder 
 man to serve the state." 
 
 He returned to England in September, and went to 
 Bath where his father and Lady Nelson were staying. 
 She tenderly nursed her husband for three months, till 
 his arm was healed. In December. 1707, at his request 
 the following notice was read in St. George's Church, 
 Hanover Square, London : " An officer desires to return 
 thailks to Almighty God for his perfect recovery from a 
 severe wound, and also for the many mercies bestowed 
 on him."
 
 102 HORATIO JVELHON. 
 
 This year, 1707, government settled a pension of a 
 thousand pounds a year on Sir Horatio Nelson, and at 
 St. James's Palace made him Knight Companion of the 
 Bath. The freedom of the city of London \vas conferred 
 upon him in December, and with it a gold box worth 
 one hundred guineas. 
 
 April 1, 1798, he sailed iu the Vanguard, of seventy- 
 four guns, to join Lord St. Vincent and the fleet off 
 Cadiz. It was known that Napoleon and the French 
 fleet were preparing for an invasion of some country 
 of the allied forces, either England, Spain, or Italy. 
 Nelson's instructions were to "take, sink, burn, and 
 destroy it." It is now known that Napoleon's expedi- 
 tion was against the East Indian Empire, to cripple 
 England. The Mediterranean was searched for the 
 French ships. Nelson wrote his wife : " I have not 
 been able to find the French fleet. ... I yet live in 
 hopes of meeting these fellows ; but it would have been 
 my delight to have tried Bonaparte on a bowline, for he 
 commands the fleet as well as the army. Glory is my 
 object and that alone." 
 
 After some months of fruitless search, Nelson obtained 
 a fresh supply of provisions in July at Syracuse. A 
 treaty between Naples and France forbade more than 
 two English ships to enter any Neapolitan or Sicilian 
 port, and it is said that Lady Hamilton gained the 
 needed concession from her friend, Queen Maria Car- 
 oline, without which Nelson (in his Will, on the last day 
 of his life) declared he could never have gone to Egypt 
 and fought the glorious battle of the Nile. 
 
 On the morning of Aug. 1, 1798, Nelson was off the 
 city of Alexandria in Egypt. His force amounted to 
 thirteen seventy-four gun ships, one of fifty guns, and
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 103 
 
 one brig, all carrying 8,068 men, with 1,012 guns. The 
 French had also thirteen ships of the line, with eight 
 frigates, brigs, and bomb vessels. They had 11,230 men, 
 with 1,226 guns. The French had come to anchor in 
 Aboukir Bay, at the mouth of the Nile. 
 
 The British were overjoyed at finding the French 
 fleet. Nelson had scarcely eaten or slept for days ; but, 
 now that the enemy were in sight, he ordered dinner to 
 be served on the Vanguard, and, on rising from the table, 
 is said to have exclaimed to his officers, " Before this 
 time to-morrow I shall have gained a peerage or West- 
 minster Abbey." 
 
 After talking over the plan of battle with his officers, 
 one of them said with enthusiasm, " If we succeed, what 
 will the world say ? " 
 
 "There is no if in the case," replied the admiral; 
 " that we shall succeed is certain ; who may live to tell 
 the story is a very different question." 
 
 A little after six in the evening, Aug. 1, the fierce bat- 
 tle began. Nelson had six colors flying in different parts 
 of his rigging, lest they should be shot away. The first 
 two ships of the French line were dismasted in a quarter 
 of an hour; the third, fourth, and fifth were taken at 
 half-past eight. 
 
 Nelson received a severe wound in the head, which, 
 though he supposed it would prove fatal, Southey says 
 the admiral would not allow touched until the other 
 wounded had been cared for. " I will take my turn with 
 my brave fellows," lie said. 
 
 About nine the L'Orient, the flagship of the French 
 Admiral de Brueys, of one hundred and twenty guns, 
 was seen to be on fire. Brueys was dead. He had 
 received three wounds, but would not leave his post. A
 
 104 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 fourth cut him nearly in two. He requested to be left 
 to die on the deck, and expired a quarter of an hour 
 afterwards. 
 
 When Nelson saw the ship on fire, he gave orders that 
 boats should be sent to the enemy. About seventy of 
 her crew were saved by the English boats. So heroic 
 were her men that they continued to fire from the upper 
 decks after the lower were in flames. Between ten and 
 eleven the huge ship exploded. Officers and men jumped 
 overboard, and most were lost in that frightful commin- 
 gling of fire and falling timbers which had been shot 
 high into the air. 
 
 Both fleets seemed paralyzed, and for a quarter of an 
 hour no gun was fired. All was darkness and silence 
 save the groans of the dying, and the swell of the ingulf- 
 ing sea. Among those who perished were Commodore 
 Casabianca and his brave little son of ten or twelve, 
 whom Mrs. Hemans has immortalized in her poem : 
 
 " The boy stood on the burning deck 
 
 Whence all but him had fled ; 
 The flame that lit the battle's wreck 
 Shone round him o'er the dead. 
 
 Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 
 
 As born to rule the storm ; 
 A creature of heroic blood, 
 
 A proud, though child-like form." 
 
 The battle raged till three in the morning. The French 
 were overwhelmingly defeated. " Victory is not a name 
 strong enough for such a scene ; it is a conquest," said 
 Nelson. 
 
 Of thirteen French sail-of-the-line, nine were taken 
 and two burned ; of the four frigates, one was sunk and
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 105 
 
 another was burned. Of the French, 5,221 were taken, 
 drowned, burned, and missing. The English lost 218 
 killed and 677 wounded. Long after the battle a great 
 number of bodies floated about the bay in spite of all 
 efforts to sink them. Many were cast up on Nelson's 
 Island, and the sailors raised mounds of sand over them. 
 For four leagues the shore was covered with wrecks. 
 The day after the battle, Aug. 2, at two o'clock, Nelson's 
 ship gave public thanksgiving to God. Other ships were 
 recommended to do the same as soon as convenient. 
 
 Part of L'Orient's mainmast was picked up by the 
 English ship Swiftsure, Benjamin Hallowell, captain. 
 A coffin was made from this and presented to Nelson 
 with the note : 
 
 " My lord, herewith I send you a coffin made of part of 
 L'Orient's mainmast, that when you are tired of this life 
 you may be buried in one of your own trophies ; but may 
 that period be far distant, is the sincere wish of your 
 obedient and much obliged servant, 
 
 BEN HALLOWELL." 
 
 Nelson was greatly pleased with this gift, and ordered 
 it placed upright in his cabin. Finally, at the request of 
 his friends, it was carried below. He was eventually 
 buried in it. 
 
 The joy at Napoleon's defeat was inexpressible. Eng- 
 land made Nelson a baron, with a pension of 2,000 a 
 year while he lived, to descend to his two male suc- 
 cessors. The East India Company voted him 10,000, 
 as they had thus been saved from French conquest. The 
 Emperor Paul of Russia sent him his portrait set in 
 diamonds, in a gold box. The Sultan of Turkey sent a
 
 106 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 pelisse of sable fur valued at five thousand dollars, and 
 a diamond aigrette valued at eighteen thousand dollars, 
 taken from the royal turbans. The Sultan's mother sent 
 a box set in diamonds valued at five thousand dollars ; 
 the King of Sardinia a gold box set in diamonds ; the 
 King of the Two Sicilies a sword which once belonged to 
 Charles III. of Spain. His friend Alexander Davison 
 sent medals to the officers and men costing -,000. 
 These were all greatly prized by the men. 
 
 Italy was as rejoiced at the defeat of the French 
 as was England. When the news readied Naples, both 
 the queen and Lady Hamilton fainted. Lady Hamilton 
 wrote to Nelson of the queen, ' She cried, kissed her 
 husband, her children, walked frantic about the room ; 
 cried, kissed and embraced every person near her, ex- 
 claiming, brave Nelson ! God, bless and protect 
 our brave deliverer ! Nelson, Nelson, what do we not 
 owe you ! victor, saviour of Italy ! Oh that my 
 swollen heart could now tell him personally what we 
 owe him ! " She was the sister of Marie Antoinette, 
 and, of course, felt no love for the people who had put 
 her beautiful sister to death. 
 
 On Sept. 22 Nelson and his ships appeared off Naples. 
 Hundreds of boats and barges went out to meet them 
 with music and banners. He describes the scene in a 
 letter to Lady Nelson, " I must endeavor to convey to 
 you something of what passed ; but if it were so affect- 
 ing to those who were only united to me by bonds of 
 friendship, what must it be to my dearest wife, my 
 friend, my everything which is most dear to me in this 
 world ? Sir William Hamilton and his wife came out 
 to sea, attended by numerous boats with emblems, etc. 
 They, my most respectable friends, had nearly been laid
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 107 
 
 up and seriously ill ; first from anxiety, and then from 
 
 joy. . 
 
 "Alongside came my honored friends; the scene in 
 the boat was terribly affecting ; up flew her ladyship, 
 and exclaiming, ' God ! is it possible ? ' she fell into 
 my arms more dead than alive. Tears, however, soon 
 set matters to rights ; when alongside came the king. 
 The scene was in its way as interesting ; he took me by 
 the hand, calling me his ' Deliverer and Preserver,' with 
 every expression of kindness." . . . 
 
 The poor of Italy were no less enthusiastic. They 
 brought cages of birds^ and opening them, allowed the 
 little creatures to fly about the ship, and alight upon 
 the admiral's shoulder. 
 
 Kelson had been very ill, and was taken to the house 
 of Sir William Hamilton, where his wife nursed the 
 admiral back to health. She arranged a celebration for 
 him on his fortieth birthday, Sept. 29. Eighteen hun- 
 dred people were entertained at a cost of two thousand 
 ducats. " Every ribbon, every button, has Nelson," etc., 
 writes the admiral. " The whole service is marked 
 H. N., Glorious 1st of August ! " 
 
 Encouraged by the victory of Nelson, a second coali- 
 tion was now formed against Napoleon, composed of 
 Russia, Austria, England, Portugal, Naples, and Turkey. 
 Ferdinand of Naples engaged to raise eighty thousand 
 soldiers for the common cause. A force of thirty-two 
 thousand Italians were sent to Rome to drive out the 
 French, but were defeated, and the French in turn 
 entered Naples and compelled the royal family to fly for 
 safety to Palermo. 
 
 Lady Hamilton, with great skill and courage, after 
 having explored a subterranean passage from the royal
 
 108 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 palace to the seaside, had two millions and a half of 
 royal treasures, paintings and the like, removed to the 
 English ships. She also assisted the king and his 
 family secretly to reach Nelson's barges on the night of 
 Dec. 21. They were carried to the Vanguard in a heavy 
 sea. 
 
 On the night of Dec. 23 the fleet sailed. A dread- 
 ful storm arose; Nelson says, "the worst I ever ex- 
 perienced since I have been at sea." Almost all were 
 ill, and Lady Hamilton, who was a good sailor, soothed 
 and comforted them. Sir William sat with a pistol in 
 his hand, prepared to shoot himself if the vessel sank. 
 The little Prince Albert was taken ill on the morning of 
 Dec. 25, and died at seven o'clock that evening in Lady 
 Hamilton's arms. 
 
 Naples for a time was transformed by the French into 
 the Parthenopsean Republic, which later was abolished, 
 and the insurgents put to death by Ferdinand. Nelson 
 has been censured, and justly, for the execution, on 
 board one of his ships, the Foudroyant, of Francesco 
 Caracciolo, who belonged to one of the noble families of 
 Naples, and, with others, had been promised protection 
 by a British officer. Caracciolo was tried and con- 
 demned as a rebel by officers of his own country, and 
 Nelson decided not to interfere. The prisons of Naples 
 were indeed slaughter pens ; but wars are never humane, 
 and struggles between despotism and liberty are rarely 
 bloodless. 
 
 Ferdinand rewarded Nelson with the Sicilian dukedom 
 of Bronte, with an estate worth about .'i,000 per annum. 
 Nelson at once gave from this estate an annuity of 500 
 for life to his father. He had already given out of the 
 10,000 voted him by the East India Company, five him-
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 109 
 
 dred pounds each to his father, his brother-in-law, Mr. 
 Bolton, his sister, Mrs. Matcham, and his brothers Mau- 
 rice and William. When his brother Maurice died in 
 April, 1801, Nelson gave his blind widow 100 a year 
 while he lived, and Lady Hamilton cared for her after 
 his death. He wrote to his wife, "If I were rich I 
 would do more. To my father say everything which is 
 kind. I love, honor, and respect him as a father and as 
 'a man, and as the very best man I ever saw. May God 
 Almighty bless you, my dear father, and all my brothers 
 and sisters, is the fervent prayer of your affectionate 
 
 Nelson." 
 
 
 
 The Queen of Naples gave Nelson the king's picture 
 set in diamonds and emeralds. She gave Lady Emma 
 Hamilton her portrait set with diamonds, with the 
 words "Eterna Gratitudine" on the back, hanging it 
 round her neck by a chain of gold; to Sir William a 
 gold snuffbox, with a picture of the king and herself 
 set in diamonds ; the king sent Sir William and his wife 
 each a picture of himself richly set in jewels, worth a 
 thousand guineas. Lady Hamilton also received two 
 coach-loads of costly dresses from Queen Caroline, and 
 a superb diamond necklace, with the cipher of the 
 names of. all the royal children, ornamented by locks of 
 their hair. Emperor Paul of Russia sent her the cross 
 of the Order of Malta, the first Englishwoman upon 
 whom the honor was ever bestowed. 
 
 The Island of Zante sent Nelson a golden-headed 
 sword and a truncheon set round with diamonds, thank- 
 ing him " for having by his victory preserved that part 
 of Greece from the horrors of anarchy." 
 
 The French having been driven out of Italy, Nelson, 
 in poor health, asked to return to England. Sir William
 
 110 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 Hamilton had been superseded by Hon. Arthur Paget, 
 so he and his wife decided to return at the same time. 
 The queen and some of her children accompanied them 
 to Vienna. Here Prince Esterhazy entertained the party 
 in regal style for four days, a hundred grenadiers, six 
 feet high, waiting at table. At Dresden the party re- 
 mained eight days, when two vessels were fitted up for 
 their conveyance down the Elbe to Hamburg. Every- 
 where great crowds gathered to see the hero of the Nile. 
 At Hamburg he met a venerable clergyman who had 
 travelled forty miles to ask the admiral to write in the 
 parish Bible. Here Nelson called upon the poet Klop- 
 stock. He also bought some elegant lace trimming for 
 a court dress for his wife. 
 
 On Oct. 31 they started for England on a mail packet, 
 and reached Yarmouth Nov. f>, 1800, after an absence 
 of two years and seven months. On landing in a har- 
 bor radiant with flags, his carriage was drawn by the 
 eager multitude to the inn ; the freedom of the town 
 was given him ; and then, with his officers and people of 
 the town, he went to the church to return thanks for 
 his safe return to his country. He reached London Sun- 
 day, Nov. 9, and went to Ne rot's hotel, King Street, St. 
 James's, where his father and Lady Nelson had come 
 from Norfolk to meet him. On the following day the 
 people took his horses from his carriage and drew him 
 from Ludgate Hill to Guild Hall, where he received the 
 thanks of the common council, and a golden-hilted sword 
 studded with diamonds. 
 
 Rumors of Nelson's devotion to Lady Hamilton had 
 already reached England and his wife. She received 
 him coldly. Shortly after this, while Lord and Lady 
 Nelson were with the Hamiltons at the theatre, Lady
 
 UORA TIO NELSON. Ill 
 
 Nelson, unable to control her feelings, fainted in the 
 box where they were sitting. 
 
 For two months Lord Nelson and his wife lived, as 
 might be supposed, most unhappily, when lie determined 
 to leave her forever, settling upon her 1,GOO per year. 
 He wrote to his friend Davison, " Sooner than live the 
 life I did when last I came to England, I would stay 
 abroad forever." The last time he saw her, Jan. 3.'^, 
 1801, before he left for the Baltic, he said at parting, 
 " I call God to witness there is nothing in you or your 
 conduct I wish otherwise." 
 
 In 1801 England found herself engaged in conflict 
 with Denmark, which had become an ally of Russia, 
 Prussia, and Sweden, in naval rights. On March 12, 1801, 
 a fleet of fifty-two sail was sent into the Baltic from 
 England, Nelson acting as second in command under Sir 
 Hyde Parker. On March 16 the ship Invincible, of 
 seventy-four guns, struck on a sand-bank called Ham- 
 mond's Knowl, and went down, taking four hundred 
 persons with her. 
 
 The harbor of Copenhagen was most strongly fortified. 
 The city was protected by defences which stretched a 
 distance of about four miles. The Danes had removed 
 all the buoys, so that Nelson was obliged to make sound- 
 ings and replace them. 
 
 On the morning of April 1, the British fleet anchored 
 within two leagues of Copenhagen. On April 2, at five 
 minutes past ten in the forenoon, the battle began, Nel- 
 son's squadron being received with the fire of more than 
 a thousand guns. As some of his ships had become dis- 
 abled. Admiral Parker, at a distance, thinking that the 
 fire was too hot for Nelson, threw out the signal to 
 retreat, knowing that if Nelson could possibly continue 
 the battle he would do so.
 
 112 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 When told of the signal, Nelson put his glass to his 
 blind eye, saying, " I really do not see the signal ! Keep 
 mine for closer battle flying ! That's the way I answer 
 such signals. Ng.il mine to the mast ! " 
 
 The men fought heroically on both sides. The battle 
 lasted for five hours, men fighting knee-deep among the 
 dead on the decks. The Danes lost 1800 men, including 
 prisoners, 6,000, and the English 253 killed and 088 
 wounded. 
 
 Nelson said, " I have been in one hundred and five 
 engagements in the course of my life, but this has been 
 the most terrible of all." 
 
 An armistice was effected, and the Crown Prince of 
 Denmark gave a grand banquet to the Danish commis- 
 sioners and English officers. At the banquet, Nelson 
 praised the bravery of the Danes, and asked to be intro- 
 duced to Lieutenant Villemoes, a youth of seventeen, 
 who, on a floating battery or raft, with six small cannon 
 and twenty-four men, came under the very stern of 
 Nelson's ship, the Elephant, and attacked her. Twenty 
 of his men were killed ; but the boy-commander, standing 
 up to his waist among his dead comrades, fought till the 
 truce was proclaimed. Southey gives the number of guns 
 as twenty-four, and the men one hundred and twenty. 
 
 When the lad was brought before Nelson, he embraced 
 him, and told the prince that the youth deserved to be 
 made an admiral. " If, my lord," was the answer, " I 
 were to make all my brave officers admirals, I should 
 have no captains or lieutenants in my service." 
 
 Nelson, brave to rashness himself, admired it in others. 
 When, early in 1800, in the Mediterranean, Le G6ne- 
 reux, one of the ships that had escaped at the battle of 
 the Nile, was captured, Nelson patted the head of a little
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 113 
 
 midshipman, who was very pale, and asked him how he 
 relished the music. He told the boy how Charles XII. 
 ran away from the first shot he heard, but was afterwards 
 called " the Great " for his bravery. " I therefore hope 
 much from you in future," said the admiral. 
 
 Nelson was made a viscount for the battle of Copen- 
 hagen. His estates and titles were to go to his father, 
 to his brother William, and then to the male heirs of 
 Nelson's sisters, Mrs. Bolton, and next Mrs. Matcham. 
 
 In very poor health he returned to England, and was 
 welcomed to the home of Sir William Hamilton, at 23 
 Piccadilly. 
 
 By the wish of Nelson, Lady Hamilton purchased a 
 country home for him, called Merton Place, in Surrey, 
 eight miles from London. " It would make you laugh," 
 wrote Sir William, " to see Emma and her mother fitting 
 up pig-stys and hen-coops, and already the canal is 
 enlivened with ducks, and the cock is strutting with his 
 hens about the walks. ... I have lived with our dear 
 Emma several years. I know her merit, have a great 
 opinion of the head and heart that God Almighty has 
 been pleased to give her, but a seaman alone could have 
 given a fine woman full power to choose and fit up a 
 residence for him without seeing it himself." 
 
 On Oct. 29, 1801, Viscount Nelson took his seat in 
 the House of Lords. The following year, in May, the 
 Rev. Edmund Nelson, the father of the admiral, was 
 coming to live with his son and the Hamiltons at Merton 
 Place ; but he died at Burnham Thorpe, April 26, at the 
 age of seventy-nine. 
 
 During the summer of 1802, Nelson journeyed to 
 Wales with the family of his brother, the Rev. William 
 Nelson, and the Hamiltons, and everywhere received the
 
 114 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 homage of the people. Oxford gave him the freedom of 
 the city in a gold box, and the degree of D.C.L. to him 
 and to Sir William. He passed Tinder triumphal arches, 
 medals were struck in his honor, and crowds escorted 
 him with lighted torches. 
 
 The next year, 1803, England and France, or, in reality, 
 England and Napoleon, were again at war. Nelson wrote 
 a characteristic note to the Premier : 
 
 " HOUSE OF LORDS, 4 o'clock, March 9, 1803. 
 " Whenever it is necessary, I am your admiral. 
 
 NELSON AND BRONTE." 
 
 April 6, 1803, Sir William Hamilton died, holding his 
 wife's and Nelson's hands, saying, " Protect my dear 
 wife ; and may God bless you, and give you victory' and 
 protect you in battle ! " He bequeathed to Nelson a 
 copy of a picture of his wife by Madame Le Brun in 
 enamel. To her he gave a legacy of 800, and an an- 
 nuity of 800 for life. Sir William's pension of 1,200 
 a year closed with his death, and, as the government did 
 not continue it, in spite of Sir William's dying wishes, 
 Nelson gave the amount to her, in monthly portions, while 
 he lived. 
 
 A month after Sir William's death, Nelson was ap- 
 pointed to the command of the Mediterranean squadron, 
 to take part in the war between England and France. 
 He sailed from Spithead, May 20, in the Victory, and for 
 two years, lacking ten days, did not step out of his ship. 
 They were long, weary years of much illness and loneli- 
 ness, but devotion to duty. He returned to Merton on 
 the morning of Aug. 20, 1805. 
 
 A month later he was again called to serve his country. 
 A third coalition had been formed by England, Russia,
 
 tfOEATiO NELSON. 115 
 
 Austria, and Sweden against France. Spain had become 
 the ally of the latter. 
 
 " I will do my best," he wrote to a friend, " and I hope 
 God Almighty will go with me. I have much to lose, but 
 little to gain ; and I go because it is right, and I will 
 serve the country faithfully." 
 
 He left Merton Friday night, Sept. 1.3, at half-past ten, 
 taking a sad leave of his sisters and Lady Hamilton, and 
 kneeling by the bedside of their little girl, Horatia, ear- 
 nestly prayed that God would protect and bless her. This 
 child was at that time about four and a half years old, 
 having been born in January, 1801. 
 
 Nelson writes in his private diary that evening, " At 
 half-past ten drove from dear, dear Merton, where I left 
 all which I hold dear in this world, to go to serve my 
 king and country. ... If it is His good providence to 
 cut short my days upon earth, 1 bow with the greatest 
 submission, relying that He will protect those so dear to 
 me that I may leave behind. His will be done. Amen ! 
 Amen ! Amen ! " 
 
 A great crowd gathered to see him embark. Many 
 were in tears, and many knelt before him and blessed 
 him as he passed. He remarked to his dear friend. 
 Captain Hardy, "I had their huzzas before; I have their 
 hearts now." 
 
 Sept. 28 the fleet anchored off Cadiz, on the coast of 
 Spain. Nelson knew there must be a fearful battle, and 
 seems to have expected to be killed in it. He took much 
 exercise daily, generally walking the deck for six or seven 
 hours. Such was the activity of his mind that he rarely 
 slept more than two hours at a time. He never thought 
 of himself. He exposed his body, frail as it was, in all 
 kinds of weather, and would not change his clothing
 
 116 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 when wet through. He disliked to depend much on 
 others, as he was obliged to do, from having but one arm 
 and one eye. 
 
 He was very prompt, and made good use of time. He 
 once said to General Twiss, " Time, Twiss, time is every- 
 thing. Five minutes makes the difference between a 
 victory and a defeat." 
 
 He was extremely generous. AY hen one of his men, 
 Captain Parker, died, he paid his debts and funeral 
 expenses, about 200. He spent very little for himself, 
 and much for others. 
 
 Tt was thought that there would be a battle on Satur- 
 day, Oct. 19 ; and Nelson wrote two letters, one to " my 
 dearest angel," little Horatia, and the other to Lady 
 Hamilton, whom he would have married, had the divorce 
 laws of England permitted. To her he writes, " May 
 the God of battles crown my endeavors with success ; at 
 all events, I will take care that my name shall ever be 
 most dear to you and Horatia, both of whom I love as 
 much as my own life." 
 
 On Monday, Oct. 21, the fleets, now off Cape Trafalgar, 
 below Cadiz, were ready for action. The English had 
 twenty-seven sail-of-the-line and four frigates ; the French 
 and Spanish thirty-three sail-of-the-line and seven frig- 
 ates. The English had 2,542 guns ; the French and 
 Spanish, 3,042 guns. 
 
 Nelson told the men who removed the picture of Lady 
 Hamilton, which always hung in his cabin in the Vic- 
 tory, to " take care of his guardian angel." He wore a 
 miniature of her next his heart. Then he wrote an ear- 
 nest prayer, and a codicil to his will, in which he asked 
 his country to reward Lady Hamilton for her services, 
 leaving her and his child, Horatia. " a legacy to my king
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 117 
 
 and country, that they will give her [Lady Hamilton] an 
 ample provision to maintain her rank in life. These are 
 the only favors I ask of my king and country, at this 
 moment Avhen I am going to fight their battle." 
 
 He wore his admiral's coat, which bore on the left 
 breast his decorations. When fears were expressed that 
 these would make him a mark for the enemy, he said, 
 " In honor I gained them, and in honor I will die with 
 them." 
 
 He gave orders for that will-known signal, " England 
 expects that every man will do his duty," which was 
 received with tremendous cheering. " You must be 
 quick," he said to Lieutenant Pasco, "for I have one 
 more to make, which is for close action." 
 
 " Now," said Nelson, " I can do no more. We must 
 trust to the great Disposer of all events, and the justice 
 of our cause. I thank God for this great opportunity of 
 doing my duty." 
 
 The Eoyal Sovereign, one hundred guns, under Vice- 
 Admiral Collingwood, was the first to get into action, a 
 little past noon. The men were ordered to lie down 
 upon the decks as she swept into the foe. She gave the 
 great Spanish ship, Santa Ana, a broadside with double- 
 shotted gnus, killing and wounding four hundred men. 
 Nelson shouted, "Bravo! What a glorious salute the 
 Royal Sovereign is in ! " 
 
 Seven or eight ships soon opened on the Victory. As 
 Nelson and Captain Hardy walked the deck a splinter 
 struck the foot of the latter, tearing the buckle from his 
 shoe. "This is too warm work, Hardy, to last long," 
 said Nelson with a smile. 
 
 About half-past one, as they were walking. Nelson was 
 shot by Sergeant Robert Guillemard of the French ship
 
 118 IIORAT1O NELSON. 
 
 Redoubtable, who was stationed in the rigging of his 
 ship, singling out officers for his aim. 
 
 Nelson i'ell on his face, in the blood where his secretary, 
 Scott, had been killed. " They have done for me at last, 
 Hardy," he said; "my backbone is shot through." 
 
 He was lifted and carried below, among the dead and 
 dying. On the way thither, using one hand, he covered 
 his face and his decorations with his handkerchief, that 
 his men might not see who had fallen. 
 
 He was laid on a midshipman's bed, and covered with 
 a sheet. As often as a ship surrendered, the men of the 
 Victory cheered, and Nelson's dying face would light up 
 with joy. Nothing could be done for the hero, but to 
 fan him with paper and give him lemonade to quench 
 his thirst. His though tfulness of others was strong 
 even in his dying hour. A poor fellow near him was 
 jarred or hurt by another in passing, and Nelson re- 
 proved the man for his carelessness. 
 
 He frequently asked for Captain Hardy, whom he 
 loved ; but Hardy was not able to leave his post till an 
 hour and ten minutes after Nelson was wounded. 
 
 When he came, they shook hands in silence, and 
 Hardy turned away to conceal his grief. " Well, Hardy, 
 how goes the battle ? " "Very well, my lord. We have 
 got twelve or fourteen of the enemy's ships in our 
 possession." 
 
 " I hope," said Nelson, " that none of our ships have 
 struck ? " 
 
 " No, my lord, there is no fear of that." 
 
 " I am a dead man, Hardy. I am going fast it will 
 be all over with me soon. Come nearer to me. Let my 
 dear Lady Hamilton have my hair, and all other things 
 belonging to me."
 
 I/O RATIO NELSON. 119 
 
 Hardy hastened to the deck and returned in about 
 fifty minutes. Nelson exclaimed, " Anchor, Hardy, an- 
 chor ! Don't throw me overboard, Hardy." 
 
 " Oh, no, certainly not," said Hardy. 
 
 " Then you know what to do. Take care of my dear 
 Lady Hamilton, Hardy ! take care of poor Lady Hamil- 
 ton. Kiss me, Hardy." 
 
 The captain knelt and pressed his lips to his cheek. 
 " Now I am satisfied," he said. " Thank God, I have 
 done my duty." Hardy knelt again and kissed his fore- 
 head. " Who is that ? " he said faintly. " Jt is Hardy." 
 " God bless you, Hardy," said Nelson, and Hardy went 
 again on deck. 
 
 To his chaplain, Dr. Scott, Nelson said, " Doctor, I 
 have not been a great sinner," and after a short pause, 
 " Remember that I leave Lady Hamilton and my daugh- 
 ter rforatia as a legacy to my country." His speaking 
 now became difficult. " Thank God, I have done my 
 duty," were his last words. At half-past four he passed 
 away peacefully. He lived long enough to know that a 
 great victory had been won. 
 
 Of the thirty-three ships in the French and Spanish 
 fleets, nineteen were taken and destroyed by the English. 
 Most of the rest became prizes, but were wrecked in a 
 gale. The English lost in killed and wounded about 
 three thousand ; the French and Spanish about five 
 thousand. " The greatest sea victory that the world had 
 ever known was won," says W. Clark Russell, " but at 
 such a cost, that there was no man throughout the Brit- 
 ish fleet there was no man indeed in all England 
 but would have welcomed defeat sooner than have paid 
 the price of this wonderful conquest." 
 
 The body of Nelson was carried in a cask of brandy
 
 120 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 in the Victory till she reached Spithead, Dec. 12, five 
 weeks after the battle. It was afterwards placed in 
 the coffin made from the mast of L'Orient, enclosed in a 
 leaden coffin, with a handsome wooden coffin outside of 
 these. 
 
 All England was bowed with grief at the death of 
 Nelson. He was the idol of the nation, despite his 
 unhappy marriage and his unlawful love for the devoted 
 Lady Hamilton. The king was unable to speak for a 
 long time after he heard the news, and the queen wept 
 aloud. In Naples, writes Coleridge, "Numbers stopped 
 and shook hands with me because they had seen the 
 tears on my cheek and conjectured that I was an Eng- 
 lishman ; and several, as they held my hand, them- 
 selves burst into tears." 
 
 Nelson was buried Jan. 9, 1806, in St. Paul's Cathe- 
 dral, London, at a public expense of 14,000. Ten 
 thousand troops preceded the body of the hero to the 
 tomb. The streets were lined with thousands of troops 
 and hundreds of thousands of weeping spectators. The 
 coffin was drawn uncovered, under a canopy, upon a car, 
 having at its front and back a carved representation of 
 the head and stern of the Victory. 
 
 At the burial, by a sudden impulse, the sailors who 
 lowered the coffin seized the flag which covered it and tore 
 it in shreds, to keep as mementoes of their great leader. 
 
 No such funeral had been seen in England. It was 
 felt that the battle of Trafalgar had saved the nation 
 from an invasion by Bonaparte, and therefore no honor 
 was too great for her deliverer. 
 
 "The battle of Trafalgar," says Bourrienne, in his 
 Memoirs of Napoleon, " paralyzed our naval force, and 
 banished all hope of any attempt against England."
 
 HORATIO NELSON. 121 
 
 England raised monuments in many of her large cities 
 to her heroic dead. In Trafalgar Square, London, stands 
 the Nelson column, fluted, surmounted by his statue, 
 while on the sides are representations of his four great 
 battles, St. Vincent, the Nile, Copenhagen, and Trafalgar, 
 cast in gun-metal taken from the enemy in these engage- 
 ments. The four lions by Landseer are at the base. 
 
 The government awarded various honors to Nelson's 
 family. An earldom was conferred on Nelson's brother, 
 the Reverend William, with a pension of 5,000 a year, 
 with 120,000 that he might purchase an estate; 
 20,000 of this gift were to be divided between Nelson's 
 sisters, Mrs. Bolton and Mrs. Matcham. Lady Nelson 
 received 2,000 per annum till her death, May 4, 1831, 
 twenty-live years after the death of Lord Nelson. 
 
 Nelson's dying request for Lady Hamilton and their 
 child, Iloratia, was disregarded by the government. Nel- 
 son left her by will 2,000, an annuity for life of 500 
 charged on the Bronte estate, Merton Place, and the 
 yearly interest on 4,000 settled on Iloratia till she 
 became eighteen. 
 
 Lady Hamilton survived Nelson nine years, dying Jan. 
 16, 1815, in apartments in the Rue Franchise at Calais, 
 at the age of fifty-one. She, lost Merton Place, in Surrey, 
 through debts. She was imprisoned for debt at the 
 King's Bench, 12 Temple Place, in 181.5, and was dis- 
 charged after some months, by a city alderman, J. J. 
 Smith, who felt that she had been cruelly treated. 
 Fearing re-arrest, she went to Calais in 1814, with 
 Horatia, and died in less than a year. Her daughter, 
 who was devoted to her, wrote, years later, ' Although 
 often certainly under very distressing circumstances, she 
 never experienced actual want."
 
 122 HORATIO NELSON. 
 
 Lady Hamilton was buried in a cemetery just outside 
 the city limits, which was soon after used as a timber- 
 yard, and all traces of the graves disappeared. In 
 accordance with her mother's last wishes, Horatia was 
 taken to the home of Mrs. Matcham, Lord Nelson's 
 sister, where she remained two years, and then resided 
 with Mr. Bolton, Lord Nelson's brother-in-law, till her 
 marriage, in February, 1822, to the Rev. Philip Ward, 
 Vicar of Tenterden in Kent. She became the mother 
 of a large family, and died March 6, 1881, in the eighty- 
 first year of her age. 
 
 The Rev. William Nelson, made an earl by the successes 
 of his brother, was succeeded in 1835 by his nephew, 
 Thomas Bolton, as second earl, who took the name 
 Nelson. Thomas was succeeded the same year by his 
 son Horatio, the third earl. Lord Nelson is a gradu- 
 ate of Cambridge, where he took the degree of M.A. 
 in 1844. He married a daughter of the second earl of 
 Normanton in 1845.
 
 JOHN BUNYAN.
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 THK first book which Benjamin Franklin owned was 
 "Pilgrim's Progress." This he read over and over. 
 
 Sir Humphry Davy, the great scientist, could repeat 
 a large part of " Pilgrim's Progress " before he could 
 read it. Nathaniel Hawthorne read and loved it when 
 he was six years old. 
 
 Rufus Choate, the great orator, says E. 1*. Whipple, 
 " read ' Pilgrim's Progress ' when he was six years old ; 
 and he not only got it by heart, but eloquently ex- 
 pounded it to his companions, dramatically reproducing 
 the scenes, incidents, and characters of theft wonder- 
 ful allegory, so that the little people he addressed were 
 made to see in it what he saw." 
 
 Dr. Thomas Arnold said, " I cannot trust myself to 
 read the account of Christian going up to the celestial 
 gate, after his passage through the river of death. . . . 
 I hold John Bunyan," he said, " to have been a man of 
 incomparably greater genius than any of them [our old 
 divines], and to have given a far truer and more edifying 
 picture of Christianity." 
 
 "'Pilgrim's Progress' has been translated into more 
 languages," says Canon Edmund Venables, in his life 
 of John Bunyan, " than any other book in the English 
 tongue ; " and Southey thinks, " there is no European 
 language into which it has not been translated." 
 
 123
 
 124 JOHN liUNYAN. 
 
 Who wrote it ? A travelling tinker, in prison ; " A 
 man," says James Anthony Froude, "whose writings 
 have for two centuries affected the spiritual opinions of 
 the English race in every part of the world more power- 
 fully than any book or books except the Bible." 
 
 John Bunyan was born at Elstow, a little village 
 about a mile from Bedford, England, in 1028. " Few 
 villages," says Canon Venables, " are so little modernized 
 as Elstow. The old, half-timbered cottages with over- 
 hanging stories, peaked dormers, and gabled porches, 
 tapestried with roses and honeysuckles, must be much 
 what they were in Bunyan's days." 
 
 The parish church is a part of the old Benedictine 
 nunnery, founded here in 1078 by Judith, niece of 
 William the Conqueror, in honor of the mother of the 
 Emperor Constantine. 
 
 Thomas Bunyan, the father of the renewed author 
 and preacher, was a tinker, "a mender of pots and 
 kettles." He was married to his first wife, Anne Pinney, 
 before he was twenty years of age. She died four years 
 later, apparently without children ; and Thomas was soon 
 married again to Margaret Bentley, who became the 
 mother of John Bunyan. 
 
 Poor as the parents were, " of that rank," says Bunyan, 
 " that is meanest and most despised of all the families 
 in the land ... it pleased God to put it into their 
 hearts to put me to school, to learn both to read and 
 write." 
 
 There was a school at Bedford at this time, founded 
 in Queen Mary's reign by the Lord Mayor of London, 
 Sir William Harpur. Thither probably the lad walked 
 day after day, but he seems to have learned little, and 
 that little he soon forgot.
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 125 
 
 At an early age he was obliged to help his father 
 at the forge, where, he says, he was " brought up in a 
 very mean condition among a company of poor country- 
 men." 
 
 He soon learned bad habits from the men or boys 
 around him. " From a child," he says, " I had but few 
 equals (considering my years, which were then but 
 tender and few) for cursing, swearing, lying, and blas- 
 pheming the holy name of God. Yea, so settled and 
 rooted was I in these things, that they became as a 
 second nature to me." 
 
 In the plain home he must have been taught some 
 religious truths by his parents, for at ten years of age he 
 was greatly disturbed on account of his sins. These "did 
 so offend the Lord that even in my childhood he did 
 scare and affright me with fearful dreams, and did terrify 
 me with dreadful visions. . . . These things did so 
 distress my soul, that then in the midst of my many 
 sports and childish vanities, amidst my vain companions, 
 I was often cast down and afflicted in my mind there- 
 with ; yet could I not let go my sins." 
 
 Books the lad did not read, except the not very edify- 
 ing life of Sir Bevis of Southampton, because the poor 
 tinker's home afforded none. 
 
 In the midst of his reckless living he himself protests 
 that he was never immoral several remarkable preser- 
 vations from death had a strong influence on his mind. 
 Twice he narrowly escaped drowning, once in the river 
 Ouse at Bedford, and again in " a creek of the sea." At 
 another time, he says, " Being in the fields with one of 
 my companions, it chanced that an adder passed over 
 the highway ; so I, having a stick in my hand, struck her 
 over the back, and having stunned her, I forced open
 
 126 JOHN BUNT AN. 
 
 her mouth with my stick, and plucked her sting out 
 with my fingers ; by which act, had not God been merci- 
 ful to me, I might, by my desperateness, have brought 
 myself to my end." 
 
 When John Bunyan was about seventeen, he was for 
 a time engaged in the civil wars of the reign of Charles 
 I. Whether he fought for the king or with the Parlia- 
 mentary forces will never be known. Dr. John Brown, 
 minister at Bedford, thinks he was drafted to fight 
 against the Royalist party. 
 
 Here again he was marvellously preserved. " When 
 I was a soldier, I, with others, was drawn out to go to 
 such a place to besiege it ; but when I was just ready to 
 go, one of the company desired to go in my room ; to 
 which, when I had consented, he took my place ; and 
 coming to the siege, as he stood sentinel, he was shot 
 in the head and died. Here were judgment and mercy ; 
 but neither of them did awaken my soul to right- 
 eousness." 
 
 Before Bunyan was twenty, a most important matter 
 came into his life. He met a poor girl, an orphan, whose 
 name even is not known, and married her. " I lighted 
 on a wife," he says, " whose father was counted godly. 
 She also would be often telling me what a godly man her 
 father was, and how he would reprove and correct vice, 
 both in his house and amongst his neighbors ; what a 
 strict and holy life he lived in his day, both in word and 
 deed. . . . 
 
 "This woman and I came together as poor as poor 
 might be, not having so much household stuff as a dish 
 or spoon betwixt us both. But she had for her portion 
 two books, ' The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven,' and 
 'The Practice of Piety,' which her father had left her
 
 JOHN JiUNYAN. 127 
 
 when he died. In these two books I sometimes read 
 with her. I found some things pleasing to me, but all 
 this while I met with no conviction." However, they 
 created in him " some desire to religion." 
 
 " The Practice of Piety," by Dr. Lewis Bayley, Bishop 
 of Bangor in King James's time, was translated into 
 several languages, and passed through more than fifty 
 editions during a century. The other book was written 
 by the Rev. Arthur Dent, the Puritan pastor of Shoebury 
 in Essex. 
 
 Young Bunyan changed his outward life after his 
 marriage. He says, " I fell in with the religion of the 
 times, to go to church twice a day, very devoutly to say 
 and sing as the others did, yet retaining my wicked 
 life." 
 
 Exceedingly fond of athletic sports, it was the fashion 
 of the day to enjoy them on Sunday after the sermon. 
 Sometimes the people danced on the village green, or 
 rang the bells for hours, or played tip-cat or other 
 sports. 
 
 James I. had issued a proclamation that " his good 
 people should not be disturbed, letted, or discouraged, 
 after the end of the divine service from any lawful 
 recreations, such as dancing, either of men or women ; 
 archery for men ; leaping, vaulting, or any such hannless 
 recreations." 
 
 Bunyan's minister, Vicar Hall, was opposed to these 
 forms of Sabbath breaking, and denounced them from 
 the pulpit in words which the young married man 
 thought were especially aimed at him. He went home 
 " with a great burden upon his spirit," but after dinner, 
 "shook the sermon out of his mind," and went out to 
 play tip-cat on the green.
 
 128 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 As Bunyan was in the midst of the game, "having 
 struck the cat one blow from the hole," he says, "just as 
 I was about to strike it a second time, a voice did sud- 
 denly dart from heaven into my soul, which said, ' AVilt 
 thou leave thy sins and go to heaven, or have thy sins 
 and go to hell ? ' At this I was put into an exceeding 
 maze. Wherefore, leaving my cat on the ground, I 
 looked up to heaven, and was as if I had, with the eyes 
 of my understanding, seen the Lord Jesus looking down 
 upon me, as being very hotly displeased with me." 
 
 The impression soon wore away, and Bunyau became 
 as reckless as ever. A month went by, and " one day," 
 he says, "as I was standing at a neighbor's shop-window, 
 cursing and swearing, and playing the madman, after 
 my wonted manner, there sat within the woman of the 
 house, and heard me; who, though she was a very loose, 
 ungodly wretch, yet protested that I swore and cursed 
 at that most fearful rate, that she was made to tremble 
 to hear me ; and told me further, that I was the ungod- 
 liest fellow for swearing that she ever heard in all her 
 life ; and that I, by thus doing, was enough to spoil all 
 the youth in the whole town, if they came but in my 
 company." 
 
 Bunyan was ashamed and hung his head. "While I 
 stood there," he says, " I wished with all my heart that 
 I might be a little child again, that my father might 
 teach me to speak without this wicked way of swearing; 
 for, thought T, I am so much accustomed to it, that it is 
 in vain for me to think of reformation ; for, I thought, 
 that could never be. ... How it came to pass I know 
 not ; but I did from this time forward so leave off my 
 swearing, that it was a great wonder to myself to ob- 
 serve it. And whereas, before, I knew not how to speak
 
 JOIIN BUNYAN. 129 
 
 unless I put an oath before and another behind, to make 
 the words have authority ; now I could speak better 
 without it, and with more pleasantness than ever I 
 could before." 
 
 He began to read the Bible at the suggestion of a 
 friend, and attempted to keep the commandments. He 
 had a hard struggle in giving up his amusements. 
 While sure that bell-ringing was a foolish use of time, 
 he " hankered after it still," and would for some time 
 go and see his old companions ring. He could not bring 
 himself to give up dancing for a full year. 
 
 His neighbors began to think him very pious, and he 
 was " proud of his godliness. ... I thought," he says, 
 " I pleased God as well as any man in England." 
 
 His self-satisfaction was soon spoiled. " Upon a day," 
 he says, " the good providence of God called me to 
 Bedford, to work at my calling ; and in one of the streets 
 of that town I came where there were three or four 
 women sitting at a door in the sun, talking about the 
 tilings of God. And being now willing to hear what 
 they said, I drew near, to hear their discourse for I 
 was now a brisk talker of myself in the matters of re- 
 ligion but I may say, I heard, but understood not ; for 
 they were far above, out of my reach. 
 
 " Their talk was about a new birth the work of God 
 in their hearts ; as also, how they were convinced of 
 their miserable state by nature. They talked how 
 God had visited their souls with his love in the Lord 
 Jesus. . . . Methought, they spoke as if joy did 
 make them speak. They spoke with such pleasantness 
 of Scripture language, and with such appearance of 
 grace in all they said, that they were to me, as if I 
 had found a new world ; as if they were people that
 
 130 JOHN BUN Y AN. 
 
 dwelt alone, and were not to be reckoned among their 
 neighbors. . . . 
 
 "I left, but their talk and discourse went with me; 
 also my heart would tarry with them, for I was greatly 
 affected by their words. . . . Therefore, I would often 
 make it my business to be going again and again into 
 the company of these poor people ; for I could not stay 
 away." 
 
 The result was "a very great softness and tenderness 
 of heart, and a desire to meditate on good things." 
 
 These poor women could not have realized the wonder- 
 ful work they were doing in reforming the life of this 
 travelling vender of pots and kettles. They were simply 
 using every opportunity for good which came in their 
 way, and the seed was now destined to bring forth an 
 hundred-fold. 
 
 They followed up the interest already awakened in 
 Buriyan's heart. They were in earnest to serve their 
 Lord. They introduced Bunyan to their minister, the 
 Rev. John Gifford. 
 
 This Free Church was founded in Bedford in 1650, 
 with twelve members. "Now the principle upon which 
 they thus entered into fellowship one with another, and 
 upon which they did afterwards receive those that were 
 added to their body and fellowship, was faith in Christ 
 and holiness in life, without respect to this or that cir- 
 cumstance or opinion in outward and circumstantial 
 things." The Rev. John Gifford is usually spoken of as a 
 Baptist, though Dr. Brown finds no proof for or against. 
 In Gifford's last letter to Ids church, written just before 
 his death, he appeals to them not to divide the church 
 on such matters as " baptism, laying on of hands, anoint- 
 ing with oil, psalms, or any externals."
 
 JOHN BUN Y AN. 131 
 
 Bimyan himself, in a work written in 1673, " Differ- 
 ences in Judgment about Water Baptism no Bar to Com- 
 munion," implies that he believes in immersion, but his 
 children were baptized in their infancy. 
 
 Mr. Gifford had been a young major in the king's 
 army, was defeated, and with eleven others condemned 
 to the gallows. On the night before he was to be exe- 
 cuted, his sister visited him in prison. The guards were 
 asleep, and his fellow-prisoners were drunk. She urged 
 him to escape to the fields. He did so, and for three 
 days hid himself in a ditch, and lived on water. Coming 
 to Bedford, he practised as a physician, but continued 
 his bad habits, drinking and losing heavily through 
 gambling. 
 
 In the midst of such a course of life he happened one 
 day to take up a book written by an eminent scholar 
 and Puritan preacher, the liev. Robert Bolton, born at 
 Blackburn, Lancashire, 1572. It was probably the vol- 
 ume entitled, " The Four Last Things, and Directions 
 for Walking with God," published in 1(520. Mr. Bolton 
 died in 1031, with these words upon his lips: " By the 
 wonderful mercies of God, I am as full of comfort as 
 my heart can hold, and feel nothing in my soul but 
 Christ, with whom I heartily desire to be." 
 
 Mr. Bolton's book was the means of the conversion of 
 Gifford, who, in turn, led Bunyan into the light, and, 
 consequently, to the writing of that wonderful book, 
 "The Pilgrim's Progress," in which Gilford is supposed 
 to be the Evangelist, who points out to Pilgrim the 
 wicket gate. Who shall measure the power of a good 
 book ! 
 
 For months, even years, Bunyan passed through the 
 struggles which Pilgrim found in his difficult journey.
 
 132 JOHN BUN Y AN. 
 
 He has glowingly depicted these in his " Grace Abound- 
 ing to the Chief of Sinners." 
 
 Sometimes he was in the depths of despair, because he 
 felt that his sins had been too great toi>e forgiven. Then 
 he feared that he was not one of the elect, or that he had 
 committed the unpardonable sin against the Holy Ghost. 
 Then doubts about the Bible and God took possession 
 of him, till, under the mental strain, his health became 
 affected, and consumption seemed imminent. 
 
 Sometimes a promise from the Bible would bring him 
 the greatest joy. " I was now so taken with the love and 
 mercy of God," he writes, " that I thought I could have 
 spoken of it even to the very crows that sat upon the 
 ploughed lands before me, had they been capable to have 
 understood me." 
 
 In these days of alternate grief and joy, Bunyan came 
 upon an old copy of Luther's " Commentary on the Gala- 
 tians ; " " so old, that it was ready to fall piece from piece 
 if I did but turn it over. ... 1 found my conditions as 
 largely and profoundly handled, in his experience, as if 
 his book had been written out of my heart. I do prefer 
 this book of Martin Luther (excepting the Bible) before 
 all the books that ever I have seen, as most tit for a 
 wounded conscience." 
 
 This book was also most effective in the experience of 
 John Wesley. " I went," Wesley wrote, " very unwill- 
 ingly, to a society in Aldersgate Street, where one was 
 reading Luther's Preface to the Epistle to the Galatians. 
 About a quarter before nine, while he was describing the 
 change which God works in the heart through faitli in 
 Christ, I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did 
 trust in Christ, Christ alone, for salvation, and an assur- 
 ance was given me that he had taken away my sins."
 
 JOHN BUN Y AN. 133 
 
 Finally, " the peace of God which passeth understand- 
 ing " came into Bunyan's heart. As he was walking in 
 the field, he seemed to hear the sentence, " Thy right- 
 eousness is in heaven ; " " and methought I saw," he 
 says, " with the eyes of my soul, Jesus Christ at God's 
 right hand, there I say, as my righteousness, so that 
 wherever I was, or whatever I was doing, God could not 
 say of me, he wants my righteousness, for that was just 
 before him. Now did my chains fall off my legs indeed. 
 Now went I home rejoicing for the grace and love of 
 God." 
 
 During these years of anxiety, Bunyan worked hard 
 with his hands, feeling, as did his honest father, that it 
 was one of the first of duties to be " very careful to 
 maintain his family." He had been moderately success- 
 ful at his trade, as a contemporary biographer writes, that 
 " God had increased his stores so that he lived in great 
 credit among his neighbors." 
 
 In the year 1653, when he was twenty-five, the year 
 in which Oliver Cromwell was made Lord Protector of 
 England, he became a member of Mr. Gifford's church. 
 He probably removed to Bedford from Elstow, two years 
 later, and was made a deacon in the church. 
 
 About this time his lovely wife, to whom he owed so 
 much, died, leaving four children, one of them, his idol- 
 ized blind daughter, Mary, born in lf>r>0. His beloved 
 friend and pastor, Mr. Gifford, died in September of the 
 same year as his wife. 
 
 The members of the church, realizing that the unedu- 
 cated tinker was gifted in speech, and believing in his 
 earnestness, asked him " to speak a word of exhortation 
 unto them." 
 
 At first, modest and shrinking as he was, " it did much
 
 Io4 JOHN BUN VAN. 
 
 dash and abash his spirit," but being entreated, lie spoke 
 twice, " but with much weakness and infirmity." 
 
 After this he was asked to go with others and hold 
 meetings in the country roundabout; and finally, "after 
 solemn prayer, with fasting, he was set apart to the more 
 ordinary and public preaching of the Word." 
 
 " My great desire," he says, ' in my fulfilling my min- 
 istry, was to get into the darkest places of the country, 
 even amongst those people that were furtherest off of 
 profession. ... I preached what 1 felt, what 1 smart- 
 ingly did feel. . . . Indeed, I have been as one sent to 
 them from the dead. I went myself in chains, to preach 
 to them in chains ; and carried that lire in my conscience, 
 that I persuaded them to be aware of." 
 
 Later, he says, after two years "crying out against 
 men's sins," he changed his manner of preaching ; " I 
 did labor much to hold forth Jesus Christ in all his 
 offices, relations, and benefits unto the world." 
 
 On one occasion, having preached with much feeling, 
 one of his friends took him by the hand, and spoke of the 
 sweet sermon he had delivered. " Ay," said the self- 
 searching preacher, " you need not remind me of that, 
 for the devil told me of it before I was out of the 
 pulpit." 
 
 Uunyan preached wherever there was an open door, 
 in a barn, a church, or on the village green. Crowds 
 came to listen, some from curiosity, and great num- 
 bers were converted. 
 
 " No such preacher," says Froude, " to the uneducated 
 English masses was to be found within the four seas." 
 
 Among the crowd gathered in a churchyard in Cam- 
 bridgeshire on a week-day, was a Cambridge scholar, 
 " none of the soberest," who had come to hear " the
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 135 
 
 tinker prate," and gave a boy twopence to hold his 
 horse while he listened. " But God met him there by 
 his ministry, so that he came out much changed; and 
 would by his good will hear none but the tinker for a 
 long time after, he himself becoming a very eminent 
 preacher in that country afterwards." 
 
 Another Cambridge University man asked Bunyan, 
 " How dare you preach, seeing you have not the original, 
 being not a scholar ? " 
 
 " Have you the original ? " asked Bunyan. 
 
 " Yes," said the scholar. 
 
 " Nay, but have you the very self-same original copies 
 that were written by the penmen of the Scriptures, 
 prophets and apostles ? " 
 
 " No," was the reply, " but we have the true copies of 
 these originals." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " said Bunyan. 
 
 " How ? " said the scholar, " why, we believe what we 
 have is a true copy of the original." 
 
 " Then," said Bunyan, " so do I believe our English 
 Bible is a true copy of the original." Then away rode 
 the scholar. 
 
 Bunyan met with many obstacles in his preaching. 
 When ])r. William Pell, the Puritan master of Cains 
 College, Cambridge, asked him to preach in the parish 
 church on Christmas, the orthodox parishioners were 
 indignant. Some of the university professors were 
 " angry with the tinker because he strove to mend souls 
 as well as kettles and pans." Others declared him a 
 witch, a highwayman, and accused him of nearly every 
 vice. All these things deeply wounded the earnest man, 
 but he kept steadily at work. 
 
 His first book, about two hundred pages, " Some Gos-
 
 136 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 pel Truths Opened according to the Scriptures," was 
 published in London, in 1656, when Bunyan was twenty- 
 eight years old. The liev. John Burton, the pastor who 
 succeeded Mr. Gifford, wrote the introduction, and com- 
 mended the young author as one who had " neither the 
 greatness nor the wisdom of the world to commend him 
 . . . not being chosen out of an earthly but out of a 
 heavenly university, the Church of Christ." 
 
 This book being replied to by Edward Burrough, a 
 Quaker, defending his sect, Bunyan wrote a second book, 
 " A Vindication of Gospel Truths Opened." His third 
 book, published in 1658, a few days before Oliver Crom- 
 well's death, was an exposition of the parable of the rich 
 man and Lazarus. The volume went through nine edi- 
 tions in the author's lifetime. His fourth book, published 
 in 1659, was entitled " The Doctrine of Law and Grace 
 Unfolded." 
 
 All were written in simple language, with the earnest- 
 ness of one, who, as he said, grieved more over the back- 
 sliding of one of his converts " than if one of my own 
 children were going to the grave." 
 
 With the restoration of Charles II. the rule of Puri- 
 tanism was over. Dissenters' chapels were shut up. 
 The worshippers were commanded to attend the Estab- 
 lished Church. Bunyan had preached for five years; 
 and lie could not give up his work, even now that his 
 pulpit was closed by law. He continued to preach in 
 barns and private houses. 
 
 On Nov. 12, 1660, he went to the little hamlet of 
 Lower Samsell, near' Harlington, to preach. Some one 
 communicated this fact to a magistrate, and a warrant 
 was issued for his arrest. This was told him, and he 
 had time to escape ; but lie said if he were to flee, " the
 
 JOHN JiUNYAN. 137 
 
 weak and newly converted brethren would be afraid to 
 stand." He would never play the coward. 
 
 He opened the meeting with prayer, and began to 
 speak from the words, " Dost thou believe on the Son 
 of God ? " 
 
 When the officers arrived, he was ordered to cease 
 speaking. He replied " that he was about his Master's 
 business, and must rather obey his Lord's voice than 
 that of man." However, knowing that resistance was 
 useless, as he was arrested in the king's name, he was 
 led away to prison "with God's comfort," he says, " in 
 my poor soul." He would not promise to discontinue 
 preaching, saying rather, " If I were out of prison to-day, 
 I would preach the gospel again to-morrow." He was 
 sentenced to remain in prison for three months ; if at 
 the end of that time he refused to give up preaching, he 
 would be sent away from his country, and if lie came 
 back without license, ha would be hanged. Those Avere 
 times of dreadful intolerance, and yet in this age we 
 have not ceased to be intolerant of those whose beliefs 
 are not like our own ! 
 
 Banyan had recently married a second time, and his 
 wife was dangerously ill. He was a man of deep affec- 
 tions and loved his home. He said, " What a man is at 
 home, that he is indeed. My house and my closet show 
 most what 1 am, to my family and to the angels, though 
 not to the world." 
 
 He wrote in prison, "The parting with my wife and 
 poor children hath often been to me in this place as the 
 pulling of my flesh from my bones ; and that not only 
 because I am too, too fond of those great mercies, but 
 also because I should have often brought to my mind 
 the hardships, miseries, and wants my poor family was
 
 138 JOUN BUN TAN. 
 
 like to meet with should I be taken from them, especially 
 my poor blind child, who lay nearer my heart than all I 
 had beside. Poor child, thought I, what sorrow art thou 
 like to have for thy portion in this world ! Thou must be 
 beaten, suffer hunger, cold, nakedness, and a thousand 
 calamities, though I cannot now endure the wind should 
 blow on thee. 
 
 " But, yet, thought I, I must venture all with God, 
 though it goeth to the quick to leave you. I was as a 
 man who was pulling down his house upon the head of 
 his wife and children." 
 
 As the coronation of Charles II. took place in the 
 spring of 1661, and it Avas customary to pardon prisoners 
 under sentence for any offence short of felony, it was 
 hoped by the followers of Bunyan that he would be re- 
 leased. As the local authorities did not put his name on 
 the list of those who might properly be pardoned, his 
 young wife, Elizabeth, scarcely recovered from her ill- 
 ness, travelled to London, and with great courage made 
 her Avay to the House of Lords, and presented her peti- 
 tion to one of the peers. He received her kindly, but 
 told her that her husband's case must be left with the 
 judges at the next assizes. 
 
 Three times Elizabeth Bunyan, " with abashed face 
 and trembling heart," stood before the judges, pleading 
 for her husband. One of the judges, Sir Matthew Hale, 
 was very kind to her, .though he feared he could not 
 help her, as the law was against her husband. The 
 other judge, Twisden, was brutal in his manner, so that 
 she feared he would strike her. 
 
 Unsuccessful, the poor woman went back to her home, 
 and John Bunyan remained for twelve long years in 
 prison,
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 139 
 
 For the first six months Bunyan was allowed consider- 
 able liberty by his sympathetic jailer. He went to some 
 of the meetings of the Baptists, and to his home. Some 
 of the bishops heard of it, and sent a messenger from 
 London to ascertain if this were really so. The officer 
 was told to call at night at the prison. It happened 
 that Bunyan had been allowed to remain at his home 
 that night, but he became so uneasy that he told his 
 wife he must go back to prison. It was so late when 
 he returned that the jailer chided him for coming at all. 
 
 Soon afterward the messenger arrived. " Are the 
 prisoners all safe ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," was the reply. 
 
 " Is John Bunyan safe ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Let me see him." 
 
 Bunyan was called, and fortunately was able to ap- 
 pear. When the messenger was gone, the jailer said, 
 " Well, you may go out again just when you think 
 proper, for you know when to return better than I can 
 tell you." Soon, however, the jailer was censured, and 
 came near losing his position, while Bunyan himself was 
 not permitted " to look out at the door." His name does 
 not appear again at a church meeting for seven years. 
 
 Banyan's prison life was a very busy one. He did 
 not, says his friend and biographer, the llev. Charles Doe, 
 "spend his time in a supine and careless manner, or eat 
 the bread of idleness. For there I have been witness, 
 that his own hands have ministered to his and to his 
 family's necessities, by making many hundred gross of 
 long, tagged, thread laces, to fill up the vacancies of his 
 time, which he had learned for that purpose since he 
 had been in prison. There also I surveyed his library,
 
 140 JOHN 11UNYAN. 
 
 the least and yet the best that ever I saw, consisting 
 only of two books, a Bible and the ' Book of Martyrs.' " 
 
 Banyan's Bible and his Foxe's " Book of Martyrs '' 
 came into the possession of Mr. Bohn, the London pub- 
 lisher, and were purchased from hiiif for the Bedford 
 library, where they have been seen by thousands of 
 visitors. 
 
 " With those two books," says Froude, " Bunyan had 
 no cause to complain of intellectual destitution. Foxe's 
 Martyrs, if he had a complete edition of it, would have 
 given him a very adequate knowledge of history. . . . 
 The Bible, thoroughly known, is a literature of itself 
 the rarest and richest in all departments of thought or 
 imagination which exists." 
 
 Besides these books, lie seems to have had a rosebush, 
 about which he wrote a poem : 
 
 " This homely Hush doth to mine eyes expose, 
 A very fair, yea, comely, ruddy rose. 
 This rose doth always bow its head to me, 
 Saying, 'Come pluck me ; I thy rose will he.' " 
 
 He also wrote verses about a spider whose habits he 
 closely watched. 
 
 Bunyan's prison, if it had much of discomfort, gave 
 him leisure to read and write the one thing for which 
 most persons of brain are struggling. " Prisons in 
 those days," says Canon Venables, "and indeed long 
 afterwards, were, at their best, foul, dark, miserable 
 places. A century later John Howard found Bedford 
 jail, though better than some, in what would now be 
 justly deemed a disgraceful condition. One who visited 
 Bunyan during his confinement speaks of it 'as an un- 
 comfortable and close prison.' "
 
 JOHN 1WNYAN. 141 
 
 Once or twice his friends tried to regain his liberty 
 for him, but he always left the matter with his Lord. 
 When they failed to obtain his freedom, lit; said, " Verily, 
 I did meet my God sweetly again, comforting of me and 
 satisfying of me,*that it Avas his will and mind that 1 
 should be there." 
 
 In prison Bunyan's pen Avas a source of great joy to 
 himself, and a blessing to all the Avorld. His earliest 
 prison work Avas " Profitable Meditations " in verse. He 
 put portions of the Old and New Testament into poetry. 
 Froude calls the " Book of Ruth " and the " History of 
 Joseph" "beautiful idylls." 
 
 He wrote in prose a treatise on prayer, entitled, "Pray- 
 ing in the Spirit ; " a book on " Christian Behavior ; " the 
 " Holy City," an exposition of the closing chapters of 
 Revelation ; a Avork on the " Resurrection of the Dead 
 and Eternal Judgment;" and "Grace Abounding," the 
 story of his own conversion. The latter book, " if he 
 had written no other," says Canon Venables, "\vould 
 stamp Bunyan as one of the greatest masters of the 
 English language of his own or any other age." 
 
 This book Avas published by George Larkin, in London, 
 in !(>(>(>, in the sixth year of Bunyan's imprisonment. 
 
 Besides these, lie Avrote his "Confession of Faith," and 
 his " Defence of the Doctrine of Justification by Faith." 
 
 Bunyan's imprisonment came to an end May 8, 1(>72. 
 Through the Declaration of Indulgence, granted by 
 Charles II., Nonconformists were once more allowed to 
 worship God as they chose. 
 
 It seems probable, from IHmyan's later biographers, 
 that " Pilgrim's .Progress " was written during a subse- 
 quent imprisonment of six months in 107;">, when the 
 Nonconformists were again suffering the rigors of laAv.
 
 142 JOHN P.UNYAN. 
 
 The first edition appeared in 1678, when Banyan was 
 fifty years old. A second edition was issued the same 
 year, and a third, with additions, the year following, 
 1679. 
 
 After it was written in prison, Bunyan, always dis- 
 trusting his own abilities, consulted with his friends 
 about the wisdom of publishing it, as Avill be seen from 
 the metrical preface : 
 
 " When at first I took my pon in hand, 
 Thus for to write, I did not understand 
 That I at all should make a little book 
 In such a mode; nay, I had undertook 
 To make another; which, when almost done, 
 Before I was aware 1 this hegun. 
 
 Well, when I had thus put my ends together, 
 
 I showed them others, that I might see whether 
 
 They would condemn them, or them justify: 
 
 And some said, ' Let them live; ' some, ' Let them die.' 
 
 Some said, ' John, print it;' others said, ' Not so;' 
 
 Some said, 'It might do good;' others said, ' No.' 
 
 Now was I in a strait, and did not see 
 
 Which was the best thing to be done of me; 
 
 At last I thought, since you are thus divided, 
 
 I print it will, and so the case decided." 
 
 Bunyan Avas already famous. The day after he was 
 released from prison, he began to preach in a barn stand- 
 ing in an orchard in Bedford, which one of the congrega- 
 tion, Josias Iviiffhead. acting for the members of the 
 church, had purchased, " to be a place for the use of such 
 as doe not conforme to the Church of England, who are 
 of the Persuasion commonly called Congregationall." 
 The barn was so thronged that many were obliged to
 
 JOHN BUNYAN. 143 
 
 stay outside. Here he preached till his death, sixteen 
 years afterward. 
 
 He had a general oversight of the churches far and 
 near, and was often called Bishop Bunyan. 
 
 He was urged to reside in London, but he would not 
 leave Bedford. Here he lived in a cottage which had 
 three small rooms on the ground floor such a house 
 as laborers now use. Behind the cottage stood a small 
 building which served as his workshop. A person visit- 
 ing him found in his "study" the Bible, "Pilgrim's 
 Progress," and a few other books, chiefly his own pro- 
 ductions, " all lying on a shelf or shelves." 
 
 His beloved blind daughter, Mary, had died while he 
 was in prison. The other children, Thomas, John, Jo- 
 seph, Sarah, and Elizabeth, four by the first mother, and 
 two by the second, brightened the plain Bedford cottage. 
 His son Thomas became a minister in 1G73, the year 
 after his father regained his liberty. 
 
 Whenever Bunyan went to London to preach, says 
 Charles Doe, " if there were but one day's notice given, 
 there would be more people come together than the 
 meeting-house could hold. I have seen, by my computa- 
 tion, about twelve hundred at a morning lecture, by seven 
 o'clock, on a working day, in the dark winter time. I 
 also computed about three thousand that came to hear 
 him one Lord's Day in London, at a town's-end meeting- 
 house, so that half were fain to go back again for want 
 of room, and then himself was fain at a back door to be 
 pulled almost over people to get up-stairs to his pulpit." 
 To what honor had the poor tinker already come ! 
 
 It is said that Charles II. expressed his surprise to 
 Dr. Owen that "a learned man, such as he, could sit 
 and listen to an illiterate tinker."
 
 144 JOHN BUN Y AN. 
 
 " May it please your majesty," was the reply, " I would 
 gladly give up all my learning if 1 could preach like that 
 tinker." 
 
 The wonderful success attending the " Pilgrim's Prog- 
 ress" must have been a surprise to modest John Bunyan. 
 Macaulay says, " He had no suspicion that he was pro- 
 ducing a masterpiece." It spread his fame over Europe 
 and the American settlements. It was translated into 
 many foreign languages during his life. 
 
 Dr. Brown says : " It is found in Northern Europe 
 in Danish, Icelandic, Norwegian, Lithuanian, Finnish, 
 Lettish, Esthonian, and Russ ; in Eastern Europe in 
 Servian, Bulgarian, Bohemian, Hungarian, and Polish ; 
 and in Southern Europe in French, Italian, Spanish, 
 Portuguese, and Romaic, or modern Greek. In Asia, it 
 may be met with in Hebrew, Arabic, Modern Syriac, 
 Armeno-Turkish, Graeco-Turkish, and Armenian. Farther 
 to the south, also, it is seen in Pashtu, or Afghani, and 
 in the great Empire of India it is found in various 
 forms. 
 
 " It has been translated into Hindustani or Urdu, Ben- 
 gali, Uriya or Orissa, Hindi, Sindhi, Panjabi or Sikh ? 
 Telugu, Canarese, Tamil, Malayaline, Marathi-Balbodh, 
 Gujarati, and Singhalese. 
 
 " In Indo-Chinese countries there are versions of it in 
 Assamese, Khasi, Burmese, and Sgau-Karen. It has been 
 given to the Dyaks of Borneo, to the Malays, to the Mal- 
 agasy, to the Japanese, and to the many-millioned people 
 of China, in various dialects, both classical and collo- 
 quial." 
 
 It has also been translated into the languages of West- 
 ern Africa, the Pacific Islands, the Mexicans, and various 
 tribes of Indians.
 
 JOUN BUNYAN. 145 
 
 The greatest minds of the world have been unanimous 
 in its praise. Everybody agrees with Toplady, who wrote 
 " Rock of Ages," that " it is the finest allegorical work 
 extant." 
 
 Macaulay said, " Bunyan is the first of allegorists, as 
 Shakespeare is the first of dramatists," and recommended 
 the stiidy of his simple style to any who wished to gain 
 command over his mother tongue. 
 
 Coleridge said, " I know of no book, the Bible ex- 
 cepted as above all comparison, which I, according to my 
 judgment and experience, could so safely recommend, as 
 teaching and enforcing the whole saving truth, according 
 to the mind that was in Christ Jesus, as ' The Pilgrim's 
 Progress.' " 
 
 Fronde well says it has made Bunyan's " name a house- 
 hold word in every English-speaking family on the globe." 
 Hallam calls his style " powerful and picturesque from 
 concise simplicity." Green, the historian, thinks " Bun- 
 yan's English the simplest and homeliest English that 
 has ever been used by any great English writer. ... It 
 is the English of the Bible." 
 
 The second part of " Pilgrim's Progress " was pub- 
 lished seven years after the first, in 1685. In 1680 ap- 
 peared the " Life and Death of Mr. Badman," a contrast 
 to the good Pilgrim; in 1681, "Come and Welcome to 
 Jesus Christ." which went through several editions ; and 
 in 1682, the " IJoly War," which, Macaulay says, would 
 have been our greatest allegory if "Pilgrim's Progress" 
 had never been written. It represents the fall and 
 recovery of man. 
 
 Several small books from Bunyan's pen appeared from 
 year to year. In 1688. the year of his death, five of his 
 works were published, " Jerusalem Sinner Saved, or a
 
 146 JOHN BUNYAN. 
 
 Help to Despairing Souls; " "The Work of Jesus Christ 
 as an Advocate ; " a poetical composition entitled, " The 
 Building, Nature, and Excellency of the House of God ; " 
 the " Water of Life ; " and "Solomon's Temple Spiritual- 
 ized." " The Acceptable Sacrifice " was going through 
 the press at the time of his death. 
 
 Besides these, Buuyan had prepared the manuscript of 
 fourteen or more works. Ten were published soon after 
 his death, by his devoted friend, Charles Doe, who said 
 he thought the best work he could do for God was to get 
 Bunyan's books printed and sold. 
 
 In the summer of 1688, a young man, in whom Bunyan 
 was deeply interested, told him that his father was about 
 to disinherit him, and begged the preacher to see him. 
 Though scarcely recovered from an illness, he at once 
 rode on horseback to Heading, met the father, obtained 
 a promise of forgiveness, and returned homeward through 
 London, where he was to preach near Whitechapel. 
 
 His forty miles to London were made through a pour- 
 ing rain. Drenched and weary, he reached the home of 
 his friend, Deacon John Strudwick, Holborn Bridge, Snow 
 Hill. With his usual determination to do what lie 
 thought to be his duty, he preached Sunday, Aug. 11), 
 16S8. Twelve days later, Aug. '.'A, lie was dead. Tn two 
 months he would have been sixty years old. He was 
 buried in Mr. Strudwick's vault, in the Dissenters' bury- 
 ing-ground at Bunhill Field. The mother of John Wes- 
 ley sleeps close by. This place was called Bunhill or 
 Bonehill, from a vast quantity of human remains removed 
 to it from the charnel house of St. Paul's Cathedral in 
 1549. 
 
 . Bunyan died as he had lived, in complete trust and 
 faith. He asked those who stood around his bedside to
 
 JOHN BUNT AN. 147 
 
 pray, and he joined fervently with them. " Weep not 
 for me," he said, " but for yourselves. I go to the 
 Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who will, no doubt, 
 through the mediation of his blessed Son, receive me, 
 though a sinner, where I hope we ere long shall meet 
 to sing the new song, and remain everlastingly happy, 
 world without end, Amen." 
 
 His blind Mary li ad gone before him ; and Elizabeth, 
 his noble wife, died four years after him, in 1692. 
 
 Bunyan's preaching was natural, simple, and earnest, 
 with now and then an appropriate comparison and anec- 
 dote. He said, " I have observed that a word cast in by- 
 the-by hath done more execution in a sermon than all 
 that was spoken besides. Sometimes, also, when I have 
 thought I did no good, then I did the most of all ; and 
 at other times, when I thought I should catch them, [ 
 have fished for nothing." 
 
 The Kev. Charles Doe describes Bunyan "as tall of stat- 
 ure, strong-boned, though not corpulent ; somewhat of a 
 ruddy face, with sparkling eyes, . . . hair reddish, but in 
 his later days time had sprinkled it with gray, . . . fore- 
 head something high, and his habit always plain and 
 modest. ... In his conversation he was mild and affable, 
 nofgiven to loquacity or much discourse in company. 
 . . . He had a sharp, quick eye, with an excellent discern- 
 ing of persons, being of good judgment and quick wit." 
 
 He was careful in preparing his sermons, usually com- 
 mitting them to writing after he had preached them. In 
 composing his books his habit was, " first with doing, 
 and then with undoing, and after that with doing again." 
 
 Fronde says if Bunyan's " importance may be meas- 
 ured by the influence which he has exerted over succeed- 
 ing generations, he must be counted among the most
 
 148 JOHN mi NY AN. 
 
 extraordinary persons whom England has produced. . . . 
 To understand, and to make others understand, what 
 Christ had done, and what Christ required men to do, 
 was the occupation of his whole mind, and no object ever 
 held his attention except in connection with it." Is it 
 any wonder that the ministry of the poor, uneducated 
 tinker was a marvellous success ? 
 
 Visitors from all parts of the world go to Bedford 
 yearly to look upon the scenes associated with Bunyan's 
 life. In the Manor are seen his will, his cabinet, the 
 Church Book, and various editions and foreign versions 
 of the " Pilgrim's Progress." 
 
 Bunyan's chair is also shown, and the oak door with 
 iron crossbars, once a part of Bedford jail, the home of 
 the great preacher for twelve long years.
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD.
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 DR. THOMAS ARXOLD of Rugby, " England's greatest 
 schoolmaster," was born at West Cowes, Isle of Wight, 
 June l.'i, 1795. He was the youngest son and seventh 
 child of William and Martha Arnold. His father died 
 before he was six years old. His early education was 
 intrusted to his mother's sister, Mrs. Delafield; and later, 
 at the age of twelve, he -was sent to Winchester. 
 
 This aunt he never forgot. When she was seventy- 
 seven he wrote to her, " This is your birthday, on which 
 I have thought of you, and loved you, for as many years 
 past as I can remember. No tenth of September will 
 ever pass without my thinking of you and loving 
 you." 
 
 The shy^, retiring boy was early fond of books. When 
 he was three, he received a present from his father of 
 Smollett's " History of England," " as a reward," says 
 Dean Stanley, in his life of Arnold, " for the accuracy 
 with which he had gone through the stories connected with 
 the portraits and pictures of the successive reigns; and 
 at the same age he used to sit at his aunt's table arran- 
 ging his geographical cards, and recognizing by their shape 
 at a glance the different counties of the dissected map of 
 England." 
 
 His first childish literary work was at the age of 
 seven, a play, on "Piercy, Earl of Northumberland," 
 
 149
 
 150 THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 Between eight and twelve, when at school at Warmirister, 
 he rejoiced in Homer. A schoolmate writes : " Arnold's 
 delight was in preparing for some part of the Siege of 
 Troy ; with a stick in his right hand, and the cover of a 
 tin box, or any flat piece of wood, tied upon his left arm, 
 he would come forth to the battle, and from Pope's 
 Homer would pour forth fluently the challenge or the 
 reproach. . . . Every book he had was easily recognized 
 as his property by helmet and shields, and Hectors and 
 Achilleses, on all the blank leaves ; many of mine had 
 some token of his graphic love of those heroes." 
 
 The home life seems to have been full of affection. 
 Rose E. Selfe, in the World's Worker series, gives these 
 letters. His brother Matthew writes him from school, 
 in 1800, before he is five years old, asking him for a 
 letter, "with all the news you can think of. What 
 new books you have, whether you like the great Bible 
 as well as you did, how your garden and the flowers 
 come on." 
 
 " My darling little Tom. . . ." his sister Susannah 
 writes, " I shall expect to find you vert/ much improved, 
 particularly in your reading. As you know you are 
 fond of kissing, give our DKAREST, DKAUKST, OEAK- 
 EST Mamma and Aunt ten each from Fan and my- 
 self. Oh, how T wisli I could see and kiss them myself, 
 and you, too, my sweet dear Tom ! I should like to 
 know i-ery t)ni<-h if you are as fond of geography as you 
 were last Christinas ; tell me when you honour us with 
 a letter. Adieu now, my lovely Boy. With sincerely 
 wishing you health and happiness, 
 
 I remain, your truly affectionate and loving sister, 
 
 SUE ARNOLD."
 
 TI1OMAS ARNOLD. 151 
 
 This sister, an invalid for twenty years, was most 
 unselfish and lovable in character. She died at Lale- 
 ham in 1832. 
 
 At the Winchester school he was called the poet 
 Arnold to distinguish him from another boy of the same 
 name. He used to recite ballad poetry for the pleasure 
 of his schoolmates, and wrote a long poem, " Simon de 
 Montfoit," in imitation of Scott's " Marmion." 
 
 He had read Gibbon and Mitford through twice before 
 he left Winchester, at sixteen. At fourteen he enjoyed 
 " the modest, unaffected, and impartial narratives of 
 Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon," and did not 
 like "the numerous boasts which are everywhere to be 
 met with in the Latin writers." He thought Roman 
 history " scandalously exaggerated," and had no idea 
 that he was thereafter, in his manhood, to write a fair 
 and delightful Roman history himself. 
 
 In 1811 he was elected a scholar at Corpus Christ! 
 College, Oxford, and four years later became a Fellow 
 at Oriel College. He gained in 1815 and in 1817 the 
 Chancellor's pri/.e for the two University essays, Latin 
 and EngliH-h. In college he had a passion for Aristotle 
 and Thucydides. Next to these he loved Herodotus. 
 Though delicate in appearance, he took long walks, in 
 which he studied nature, being a lover of flowers, birds, 
 and clouds. 
 
 His friendships were warm and lasting. John Keble, 
 author of " The Christian Year," Whately, later Arch- 
 bishop of Dublin, and Coleridge, afterwards chief-justice, 
 were his especial friends. 
 
 During his four years as a Fellow in Oriel College, he 
 took private ptipils, and read in the Oxford libraries. 
 His plan was to make himself master of some one
 
 152 THOMAS AltMOLU. 
 
 period, like the fifteenth century, and write full notes 
 upon it. 
 
 Oxford was always very dear to Arnold. He wrote 
 years later, "If I live till I am eighty, and were to 
 enjoy all the happiness that the warmest wish could 
 desire, I should never forget or cease to look back with 
 something of a painful feeling on the years we were 
 together there, and on all the delights that we have 
 lost." 
 
 During these college years he was often restless and 
 wear}- of duty, inclined to indolence, and an early riser 
 with the greatest difficulty. These things he overcame 
 in later life. He had some religious doubts, which com- 
 pletely vanished as he studied and thought more deeply. 
 
 In 1819 Arnold removed to Laleham, with his mother, 
 sister, and aunt, and remained here for the next nine 
 years, preparing private pupils for the universities. 
 
 A year after coming to Laleham, he married, when he 
 was twenty-five, Mary, youngest daughter of the Rev. 
 John Penrose, in Nottinghamshire, and sister of one of 
 his best college friends, Trevenen Penrose. She was a 
 worthy helper through all the laborious years which 
 followed. 
 
 Although Arnold had fitted himself for the Clnn-ch, he 
 loved the work of teaching. He wrote to a friend about 
 to engage in a similar occupation, " I know it has a bad 
 name, but my wife and I always happened to be fond of 
 it. ... I enjoyed and do enjoy the society of youths of 
 seventeen or eighteen; for they are all alive in limbs and 
 spirits at least, if not in mind, while in older persons 
 the body and spirits oftener become lazy and languid 
 without the mind gaining any vigor to compensate 
 for it. .
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD. 153 
 
 " The misery of private tuition seems to me to consist 
 in this, that men enter upon it as a means to some fur- 
 ther end ; are always impatient for the time when they 
 may lay it aside ; whereas, if you enter upon it heartily 
 as your life's business, as a man enters upon any other 
 profession, you are not then in danger of grudging every 
 hour you give to it. ... 
 
 " I should say, have your pupils a good deal with you, 
 and be as familiar with them as you possibly can. I 
 did this continually more and more before I left Lale- 
 hain, going to bathe with them, leaping, and all other 
 gymnastic exercises within my capacity, and sometimes 
 sailing or rowing with them. They, 1 believe, always 
 liked it, and 1 enjoyed it myself like a boy, and found 
 myself constantly the better for it." 
 
 " Large private schools," he thought, " the worst pos- 
 sible system ; the choice lies between public schools, and 
 an education whose character may be strictly private 
 and domestic." 
 
 The home at Laleham was very dear to him. Here 
 six of his children were born. He loved the quiet walks 
 along the banks of the Thames, his garden back of his 
 house, where, lie said, "there is always something to 
 interest me even in the very sight of the weeds and 
 litter, for then T think how much improved the place- 
 will be when they are removed," and the churchyard, 
 where in after years his mother, his infant child, and 
 now his distinguished son Matthew are resting. 
 
 One of his pupils at Laleham thus writes of Arnold : 
 " His great power as a private tutor resided in this, that 
 he gave such an intense earnestness to life. Every 
 pupil was made to feel that there was a work for him to 
 do, that his happiness as well as his duty lay in doing
 
 154 THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 that work well. . . . His hold over all his pupils per- 
 fectly astonished rne. It was not so much an enthusias- 
 tic admiration for his genius or learning or eloquence 
 which stirred within them ; it was a sympathetic thrill 
 caught from a spirit that was earnestly at work in the 
 world. . . . 
 
 " In all this there was no excitement, no predilection 
 for one class of work above another . . . but an humble, 
 profound, and most religious consciousness that work is 
 the appointed calling of man on earth, the end for which 
 his various faculties were given, the element in which 
 his nature is ordained to develop itself." 
 
 Arnold used to say, " one must always expect to suc- 
 ceed, but never think he had succeeded." 
 
 Besides teaching, Arnold devoted his spare time to 
 philology and history, preparing a Lexicon of Thucydides 
 and articles on Roman History. He learned the German 
 language that he might read Niebuhr's " History of 
 Rome," and thereafter became deeply interested in Ger- 
 man literature. 
 
 He wrote a friend concerning his little study " where 
 I have a sofa full of books, as of old, and the two verse 
 books lying about on it, and a volume of Herodotus ; and 
 where I sit up and read or write till twelve or one 
 o'clock." Plato's " Phoedo " was a great favorite. He 
 thought it " nearly the perfection of human language." 
 
 To another he wrote, " One of my most useful books 
 is dear old Tottle's (Aristotle's) ' Politics,' which give one 
 so full a notion of the state of society and opinions in 
 old times, that by their aid one can pick out the wheat 
 from the chaff in Livy with great success." 
 
 Arnold was always a learner. He studied Hebrew 
 when he was forty-three and Sanscrit when he was forty-
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD. 155 
 
 five. He urged ministers not to study works on "Di- 
 vinity " only. " A man requires," he said " first, the 
 general cultivation of his mind, by constantly reading 
 the works of the very greatest writers, philosophers, ora- 
 tors, and poets, and next, an understanding of the actual 
 state of society, . . . and of political economy as teach- 
 ing him how to deal with the poor. . . . Further, I 
 should advise a constant use of the biography of good 
 men." 
 
 Arnold's friends were urging him to a wider sphere of 
 influence. Laleham had become too expensive for his 
 means, and he had determined to move elsewhere. Just 
 at this time the head-mastership of Rugby became vacant. 
 There were about thirty applicants, and his testimonials 
 were sent in late. His college friend, Dr. Hawkins, 
 afterwards Provost of Oriel, wrote the twelve trustees a 
 letter about Arnold, predicting that if he were elected, 
 " he would change the face of education all tluwigh the 
 public schools of England." He was elected in Decem- 
 ber, 1827, and the words of Dr. Hawkins were fully 
 verified. 
 
 In 1828 he received the degree of D.D., and entered 
 upon his new duties. 
 
 It cost the Arnold family many a struggle to leave 
 Laleham. "I cannot tell you," Dr. Arnold writes J. T. 
 Coleridge, " how we both love it, and its perfect peace 
 seems at times an appalling contrast to the publicity of 
 Rugby. I am sure that nothing could stifle this regret, 
 were it not for my full consciousness that I have nothing 
 to do with rest here, but with labor." 
 
 To another friend he writes, " On Tuesday, if God 
 will, we shall leave this dear .place, this nine years' 
 home of such exceeding happiness. But it boots not to
 
 156 THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 look backwards. Forwards, forwards, forwards, should 
 be one's motto." 
 
 For fourteen years Arnold lived at Rugby and did his 
 great work, which has made his name known and hon- 
 ored among all educated nations. " What a pity," said 
 some persons, " that a man tit to be a statesman should 
 be employed in teaching school-boys." 
 
 But Arnold knew the greatness of his chosen work. 
 " It is a most touching thing to me," he said, "to receive 
 a new fellow from his father, when I think what an in- 
 fluence there is in this place for evil as well as for good. 
 I do not know anything which affects me more. If ever 
 I could receive a new boy from his father without 
 emotion, I should think it was high time to be off." 
 
 With much firmness he united great tenderness. 
 " Lenity is seldom to be repented of," he wrote a friend 
 who had asked his advice in dealing with a difficult 
 pupil. " In cases," says Dean Stanley, " when it might 
 have been thought that tenderness would have been ex- 
 tinguished by indignation, he was sometimes so deeply 
 affected in pronouncing sentence of punishment on offen- 
 ders as to be hardly able to speak." 
 
 Once, when he heard of some great fault in one of his 
 pupils, "I felt," he said and his eyes filled with tears 
 as he spoke, "as if it had been one of my own children, 
 and, till I had ascertained that it was really true, I men- 
 tioned it to no one, not even to any of the masters." 
 
 At another time he said to one of the masters, speak- 
 ing of a promising lad, " If he should turn out ill, I 
 think it would break my heart." 
 
 He wrote a friend, " I believe that boys may be gov- 
 erned a great deal by gentle methods and kindness, and 
 appealing to their better feelings, if you show that you
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD. 157 
 
 are not afraid of them ; T have seen great boys, six feet 
 high, shed tears when I have sent for them up to my 
 room and spoken to them quietly, in private, for not 
 knowing their lesson, and I have found that this treat- 
 ment produced its effect afterwards in making them do 
 better. But of course deeds must second words when 
 needful, or words will soon be laughed at." 
 
 When occasion demanded, Arnold could be very firm. 
 If a boy were habitually idle, or doing harm in the school, 
 he was expelled, for a time or permanently. " Often it 
 would be wholly unknown who were thus dismissed or 
 why," says Dean Stanley; "latterly, Arnold generally 
 allowed such cases to remain till the end of the half- 
 year,' that their removal might pass altogether un- 
 noticed." 
 
 Many parents were displeased, but Arnold never hes- 
 itated for a moment in what he believed to be his duty. 
 The result was that the tone of the school became so 
 elevated that more wished to come than could be 
 accommodated. 
 
 He always appealed to the honor of the pupils. Once 
 he said, with great spirit, in an address in which he had 
 spoken of bad feeling amongst the boys, " Ts this a 
 Christian school? I cannot remain here if all is to be 
 carried on by constraint and force ; if I am to be here as 
 a jailer, I will resign my office at once." 
 
 He said, "My great desire is to teach my boys to 
 govern themselves a much better thing than to govern 
 them well myself." 
 
 At another time, when several boys had been sent 
 away, and there was much discontent in consequence, he 
 said, " It is not necessary that this should be a school of 
 three hundred, or one hundred, or of fifty boys; but it is
 
 158 'THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 necessary that it should be a school of Christian gentle- 
 men." 
 
 He trusted the boys, and never seemed to watch them. 
 Their word was not doubted. " If you say so, that is 
 quite enough ; of course I believe your word," was his 
 frequent statement. 
 
 " There grew up in consequence," says Stanley, " a 
 general feeling that it was a shame to tell Arnold a lie 
 he always believes one." If falsehood was discovered, 
 the punishment was severe. 
 
 He usually had great patience. When living at Lale- 
 ham he once spoke sharply to a dull pupil. " Why do 
 you speak angrily, sir ? " said the youth, looking up in 
 his face ; " indeed, I am doing the best that I can." 
 
 Years afterward Arnold used to say to his children, 
 " I never felt so much ashamed in my life that look 
 and that speech I have never forgotten." 
 
 For mere "intellectual acuteness " he had no admira- 
 tion, unless united with goodness. " If there be one 
 thing on earth which is truly admirable," he said, " it is 
 to see God's wisdom blessing an inferiority of natural 
 powers, where they have been honestly, truly, and zeal- 
 lously cultivated. ... I would stand to that man hat in 
 hand." 
 
 Arnold's consistent and noble life won the undying 
 regard of his pupils. One pupil writes : " I am sure 
 that I do not exaggerate my feelings when I say that I 
 felt a love and reverence for him as one of quite awful 
 greatness and goodness, for whom, I well remember, that 
 I used to think I would gladly lay down my life. ... I 
 used to believe that T, too, had a work to do for him in 
 the school, and did, for his sake, labor to raise the tone 
 of the set I lived in."
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD. 150 
 
 Who can ever forget the description of Arnold in that 
 natural and fascinating book, " Tom Brown's School 
 Days " ? 
 
 " And then came that great event in his, as in every 
 Rugby boy's life of that day the first sermon from the 
 Doctor. . . . The tall, gallant form, the kindling eye, 
 the voice, now soft as the low notes of a flute, now clear 
 and stirring as the call of the light infantry bugle, of him 
 who stood there Sunday after Sunday, witnessing and 
 pleading for his Lord, the King of righteousness, and 
 love, and glory, with whose spirit he was filled, and in 
 whose power he spoke. . . . 
 
 "But what was it, after all, which seized and held 
 these three hundred boys, dragging them out of them- 
 selves, willingly or unwillingly, for twenty minutes on 
 Sunday afternoon ? True, there always were boys scat- 
 tered Tip and down the school, who in heart and head 
 were worthy to hear and able to carry away the deepest 
 and wisest words there spoken. But those were a 
 minority always, generally a very small one. . . . 
 
 " What was it that moved and held us, the rest of the 
 three hundred scholars, childish boys, who feared the 
 Doctor with all our hearts, and very little besides in 
 heaven or earth ; who thought more of our sets in the 
 school than of the Church of Christ, and put the 
 traditions of Rugby and the public opinion of boys in 
 our daily life above the laws of God ? 
 
 " We couldn't enter into half that we heard ; we hadn't 
 the knowledge of our own hearts or the knowledge of one 
 another, and little enough of the faith, hope, and love 
 needed to that end. But we listened, as all boys in their 
 better moods will listen (ay, and men, too, for the matter 
 of that), to a man whom we felt to be, with all his heart,
 
 160 THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 and soul, ana strength, striving against whatever was 
 mean and unmanly and unrighteous in our little world." 
 
 Another pupil writes of these sermons : " I used to 
 listen to them from first to last witli a kind of awe, and 
 over and over again could not join my friends at the 
 chapel door, but would walk home to be alone; and I 
 remember the same effects being produced by them, more 
 or less, on others, whom I should think Arnold looked 
 on as some of the worst boys in the school." 
 
 The influence at Rugby under Arnold was thoroughly 
 Christian, though never sectarian. Harry East, the 
 friend of Tom Brown (Thomas Hughes) went to Arnold 
 to talk with him about b;>ing confirmed. " When I 
 stuck," says East, "he lifted me, just as if I had been a 
 little child ; and he seemed to know all I'd felt, and to 
 have gone through it all. And I burst out crying more 
 than I've done this five years ; and he sat down by me 
 and stroked my head ; and I went blundering on. . . . 
 And he wasn't shocked a bit, and didn't snub me, or tell 
 me I was a fool . . . and he didn't give me any cut-and- 
 dried explanation. l>ut when I'd done, he just talked a 
 bit I can hardly remember what he said yet ; but it 
 seemed to spread round me like healing, and strength, 
 and light; and to bear me up and plant me on a rock, 
 where I could hold my footing and fight for myself. I 
 don't know what to do, I feel so happy." 
 
 While Arnold loved his boys, and felt the keenest 
 interest in them, he did not forget his own mental re- 
 quirements. "He is the best teacher of others," he 
 said, "who is best taught himself; that which we know 
 and love we cannot but communicate. ... I hold that 
 a man is only fit to teach so long as he is himself learn- 
 ing daily. If the mind once becomes stagnant, it can
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD. 1G1 
 
 give no fresh draught to another mind; it is drinking 
 out of a pond instead of from a spring. ... I think it 
 essential that I should not give up my own reading, as I 
 always find any addition of knowledge to turn to ac- 
 count for the school in some way or other." 
 
 While his great desire for his boys was " moral 
 thoughtfulness : the inquiring love of truth going along 
 with the devoted love of goodness," he insisted on liveli- 
 ness in his teachers : " It is a great matter to make these 
 boys understand that liveliness is not folly and thought- 
 lessness. A schoolmaster's intercourse is with the young, 
 the strong, and the happy ; and he cannot get on with 
 them unless in animal spirits he can sympathize with 
 them, and show them that his thoughtfulness is not con- 
 nected with selfishness or weakness. . . . He who likes 
 boys has probably a daily sympathy with them." 
 
 One great secret of Arnold's success was that he loved 
 his work. Not that he had not strong ambitions like 
 other men. He said, " I believe that, naturally, I am 
 one of the most ambitious men alive," and thought that 
 "the three great objects of human ambition" which 
 would attract him, were "to be the prime minister of a 
 great kingdom, the governor of a great empire, or the 
 writer of works which should live in every age and in 
 every country." But lie felt that (Jod had opened a 
 great school to him, and that his path of duty was clearly 
 marked out. 
 
 He grew tired, as do others, with what he felt to be 
 very hard work, as all know who have tried teaching, 
 and almost yearly took a journey on the Continent for 
 rest and change. 
 
 " I hunger sometimes," lie said. " for more time for 
 writing; but I do not indulge the feeling, and on the
 
 1C2 THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 other hand, I think my love of tuition rather grows upon 
 me. . . . The work here is more and more engrossing 
 continually, but I like it better and better; it has all 
 the interest of a great game of chess, with living crea- 
 tures for pawns and pieces." No one ever studied the 
 game more intently. 
 
 " Do you see those two boys walking together ? " he 
 said to an assistant master. " I never saw them together 
 before ; you should make an especial point of observing 
 the company they keep ; nothing so tells the changes in 
 a boy's character." 
 
 He deprecated such long terms for boys or masters as 
 twenty -one weeks, and wished for more " co-operation in 
 our system of public education, including both the great 
 schools and the universities." 
 
 Besides his teaching, Arnold did much writing of 
 pamphlets and books. "I must write or die," was an 
 expression which he often used. His pamphlet on 
 " The Christian Duty of Conceding the Roman Catholic 
 Claims," in 1828, whereby many of their civil and polit- 
 ical disabilities were to be removed, created great bit- 
 terness of feeling against him. Sir Robert Peel, the 
 leader of the House of Commons, was also fighting the 
 battles for the Roman Catholics of Ireland, and probably 
 saved England from a civil war by his advocacy. l>ut 
 toleration was as rare nearly a century ago as it is to- 
 day, and Arnold soon received abuse from pulpit and 
 pew. 
 
 He was the devoted friend of the poor and the 
 laborers. In 1831 Arnold started the Englishman'* 
 Register, a weekly newspaper, with the hope of telling 
 the people " the evils that exist, and lead them, if I can, 
 to their causes and their remedies."
 
 TIIOMAS ARNOLD. 103 
 
 " If the clergy would come forward," he writes to his 
 beloved sister Susannah, " as one man, from Cumberland 
 to Cornwall, exhorting peaceableness on the one side and 
 justice on the other, denouncing the high rents and the 
 game laws, and the carelessness which keeps the poor 
 ignorant, and then wonders that they are brutal, I 
 verily believe they might yet save themselves and the 
 State." . . . 
 
 To the Rev. Augustus Hare, he writes ; " Unquestion- 
 ably our aristocratic manners and habits have made us 
 . and the poor two distinct and unsympathizing bodies ; 
 and from want of sympathy I fear the transition to en- 
 mity is but too easy when distress embitters the feelings, 
 and the sight of others in luxury makes that distress 
 still more intolerable. This is the plague-spot, to my 
 mind, in our whole state of society, which must be re- 
 moved, or the whole must perish." 
 
 He rejoiced that some of the leading manufacturers 
 " are considering that their workmen have something else 
 besides hands belonging to thorn, and are beginning to 
 attend to the welfare of that something." 
 
 The Reyistcr soon died, because Arnold could not 
 give all the time needed to conduct it, or the large 
 amount of money necessary to start and carry on a 
 weekly paper. His articles, however, about laborers 
 were copied into the Sheffield Conrant, and he was asked 
 to continue his writings for its columns. 
 
 He was always a noble friend to the poor. At Laleham 
 and Ifugby he gave lectures in their interest, and was 
 often seen in their homes. " I never knew such an 
 humble man as the doctor," said the parish clerk at 
 Laleham; "he comes and shakes us by the hand as if 
 he was one of xis." At his later home in Westmoreland
 
 1G4 THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 a poor woman said, "He used to come into iny house 
 and talk to me as if I was a lady." 
 
 " Prayer and kindly intercourse with the poor," said 
 Arnold, " are the two great safeguards of spiritual life ; 
 its more than food and raiment." 
 
 Dr. Arnold held that there "are but two things of 
 vital importance," which Algernon Sidney calls Religion 
 and Politics, " but which I would rather call our duties 
 and affections toward God, and our duties and feelings 
 toward men ; science and literature are but a poor make- 
 up for the want of these." 
 
 At one time Arnold was very anxious to start a jour- 
 nal, a portion of which should be devoted regularly to 
 such subjects as history, statistics of different countries, 
 and the like. "All instruction must be systematic," he 
 said, " and it is this which the people want. 1 ' 
 
 Without doubt Arnold was right. He could not then 
 foresee how the newspapers of to-day, Avith their syndi- 
 cate novels, travels, and biography, were to take the 
 place of books in very many families. The life and 
 times of Lincoln in the Century Magazine was a great 
 step in the right direction. Sometime, it is to be hoped, 
 our newspapers, instead of containing so much that is 
 neither helpful nor lasting, will be the schools of the 
 people, teaching history, political economy, and helpful 
 biography. 
 
 While Arnold was, above all things, devoted to one 
 central idea, " One name there is, and one alone Jesus 
 Christ, both God and man," yet he said, " I never wanted 
 articles on religious subjects half so much as articles on 
 common subjects written with a decidedly Christian 
 tone. History and biography are far better vehicles of 
 good, I think, than any direct comments on Scripture, 
 or essays on evidences."
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD 165 
 
 Arnold used to say, " Above all, be afraid of teaching 
 nothing ; it is vain now to say that questions of religion 
 and politics are above the understanding of the poorer 
 classes so they may be, but they are not above their 
 misunderstanding, and they will think and talk about 
 them, so that they had best be taught to think and talk 
 rightly." 
 
 In 1833 Arnold published a pamphlet on Church lie- 
 form. He believed in a union of Church and State, but 
 wished to bring Dissenters within the pale of the Estab- 
 lished Church. He would give them the use of the 
 churches for worship, with different hours for their 
 services. He did not believe in the Apostolical succes- 
 sion, and deprecated all divisions among Christians. He 
 longed to see all united on one foundation stone, the 
 Saviour of men. 
 
 The Church lleform pamphlet Avent rapidly through 
 four editions, and aroused a perfect Avhirhvind of invec- 
 tive. Arnold Avas denounced by the Established Church 
 because too liberal ; by Dissenters as not liberal enough ; 
 by Conservatives in politics as one revolutionary in doc- 
 trine and too thoroughly a friend of the people ; by 
 other educators as the unwise head of a new system 
 which bade fair to destroy the old. The sale of his ser- 
 mons he had published t\vo or three volumes Avas 
 stopped. Some of his friends even dropped their inter- 
 course Avith him. 
 
 " The strong, great man Avas startled," says Dean Stan- 
 ley, " but not moved by this continued outcry." 
 
 lie resolved not to answer anybody through the UCAVS- 
 papers. " All that is Avanted," he said, " is to inspire 
 firmness into the minds of those engaged in the conduct 
 of the school, lest their OAVU confidence should be im-
 
 166 THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 paired by a succession of attacks, which I suppose is 
 unparalleled in the experience of schools." 
 
 When the controversy was at its height, he voted for 
 the Liberal candidate, " foreseeing," as Stanley says, 
 " as he must have done, the burst of indignation which 
 followed." 
 
 " I should like," he said, " to write a book on ' The 
 Theory of Tides,' the flood and ebb of .parties. The 
 English nation are like a man in a lethargy ; they are 
 never roused from their conservatism till mustard poul- 
 tices are put to their feet." 
 
 He wrote in 1833, " May God grant to my sons, if they 
 live to manhood, an unshaken love of truth and a firm 
 resolution to follow it for themselves, with an intense 
 abhorrence of all party ties, save that one tie which 
 binds them to the party of Christ against wickedness." 
 
 Two years later he wrote, " The only hope is with the 
 young, if by any means they can be led to think for 
 themselves without following a party, and to love what 
 is good and true, let them find it where they will." 
 
 Arnold went steadily forward with his scholarly work, 
 bringing out in 1835 the last volume of his edition of 
 Thucydides, and resumed his labor on his "Roman His- 
 tory." He thought " brevity and simplicity " two of the 
 greatest merits which style can have, and applied these 
 rules to his own accurate and thorough workmanship. 
 
 His eyes were often turned towards America, which he 
 foresaw would solve many of the old world problems. 
 To Jacob Abbott lie wrote concerning " The Young 
 Christian," " The publication of a work like yours in 
 America was far more delightful to me than its publica- 
 tion in England could have been. Nothing can be more 
 important to the future welfare of mankind, than that
 
 THOMAS AliNOLD. 167 
 
 God's people, serving Him in power and in love, and 
 in a sound mind, should deeply influence the 'national 
 character of the United States." 
 
 Later he writes to his friend Chevalier Bunsen, " so 
 beautifully good, so wise, and so noble-minded ! " "I 
 hear, both from India and the Mediterranean, the most 
 delightful account of the zeal and resources of the Ameri : 
 can missionaries, that none are doing so much in the 
 cause of Christ as they are. They will take our place 
 in the world, I think not unworthily, though with far 
 less advantages, in many respects, than those which we 
 have so fatally wasted." 
 
 "While the storm raged around him, he enjoyed great 
 peace and comfort in his home life. He romped with 
 his children, gathered flowers with them, and climbed 
 mountains like a boy. " I do not wonder," he said, 
 " that it was thought a great misfortune to die childless 
 in old times, when they had not fuller light it seems 
 so completely wiping a man out of existence." He wrote 
 Coleridge, " What men do in middle life without a wife 
 and children to turn to, I cannot imagine ; for I think the 
 affections must be sadly checked and chilled, even in the 
 best men, by their intercourse with people, such as one 
 usually finds them in the world. . . . But with a home 
 tilled with those whom we entirely love and sympathize 
 with, and with some old friends, to whom one can open 
 one's heart fully from time to time, the world's society 
 has rather a bracing influence to make one shake off 
 mere dreams of delight." 
 
 Archbishop Whately said of Arnold, " He was attached 
 to his family as if he had no friends ; to his friends as 
 if he had no family ; and to his country as if he had no 
 friends or relations."
 
 168 THOMAS AliNOLD. 
 
 Dr. Arnold's married life was very happy. He wrote 
 his " Dearest Mary " on their wedding-day ; " How much 
 of happiness and of cause for the deepest thankfulness 
 is contained in the recollections of this day ; for in the 
 ten years that have elapsed since our marriage, there has 
 been condensed, I suppose, as great a portion of happi- 
 ness, with as little alloy, as ever marked any ten years 
 of human existence." 
 
 To his servants he was extremely kind and considerate, 
 as are all true gentlemen and well-bred women. " He 
 was in the habit," says Stanley, " whether in travelling 
 or in his own house, of consulting their accommodation 
 and speaking to them familiarly as to so many members 
 of the domestic circle." 
 
 In 1832 Arnold had purchased a small estate, Fox 
 How, between Ilydal and Ambleside, among the English 
 lakes. " It is," he said, " with a mixed feeling of so- 
 lemnity and tenderness that I regard our mountain nest, 
 whose surpassing sweetness, I think I may safely say, 
 adds a positive happiness to every 'one of my waking 
 hours passed in it." lie loved every tree, every rock, 
 every flower, "as a child loves them." The throe roads 
 he often used to walk upon with his children he called 
 " Old Corruption," an irregular, grassy path ; ' Hit-by-] Jit 
 Reform ; " and " Radical Reform," a straight, good road. 
 
 The mountains were an especial delight. The impres- 
 sion they gave him, he said, "was never one of bleakness 
 or wildness, but of a sort of paternal shelter and protec- 
 tion to the valley." 
 
 Here the work went on as elsewhere. " All the morn- 
 ing, till one o'clock," he wrote, " I used to sit in one 
 corner of the drawing-room, not looking towards Fair- 
 field lest I should be constantly tempted from my work,
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD. 169 
 
 and there I worked on at the ' Roman History ' and the 
 1 Tudor Tables,' and Appius Claudius and Cincinuatus, 
 and all the rest of them." 
 
 The " Roman History " was never finished. The third 
 volume, published after his death, Archdeacon Hare 
 thinks the first history which " has given anything like 
 an adequate representation of the wonderful genius and 
 noble character of Hannibal." 
 
 Dr. Arnold took an active part in the opposition to 
 "The Tracts for the Times," when John Henry New- 
 man went from the High Church Party of Oxford to the 
 Roman Catholic Church, and became a cardinal. " I 
 groan," he said, " over the divisions of the church, of all 
 our evils I think the greatest . . . that men should call 
 themselves Roman Catholics, Church of England men, 
 Baptists, Quakers, all sorts of appellations, forgetting 
 that only glorious name of CHRISTIAN, which is common 
 to all, and a true bond of union." 
 
 In 1835 Arnold accepted a fellowship in the Senate of 
 the new London University, with the hope that he could 
 make it as he said, " Christian, yet not sectarian." He 
 wished an examination in the Scriptures to be a part of 
 the University work, but as the University from its 
 charter Avas intended for all denominations, without re- 
 gard to belief, he was overruled, and resigned his posi- 
 tion. While he thanked Parliament " for having done 
 away with distinctions between Christian and Chris- 
 tian" Dissenters had been excluded heretofore from 
 degrees at the universities because not belonging to the 
 Established Church "I would pray," he said, "that 
 distinctions be kept up between Christians and non- 
 Christians." 
 
 It is surprising to read that a man so broad and great
 
 170 THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 as Dr. Arnold thought the Jews, because unbelievers, 
 "have no claim whatever of political right," "no claim 
 to become citizens, but by conforming to our moral law, 
 which is the Gospel," and petitioned against the re- 
 moval of their civil disabilities. Mr. Gladstone was also 
 against the removal, but happily changed his opinions, 
 and spoke in behalf of the Jews in 1847. 
 
 When the Chartists were demanding a people's charter 
 with universal suffrage for men, and other reforms, 
 Arnold was greatly moved. He began a correspondence 
 with Carlyle, urging that a society be formed " for draw- 
 ing public attention to the state of the laboring classes 
 throughout the kingdom." He believed that the "upper 
 classes would make sacrifices," if the real condition of 
 the poor and the workers could be brought to their 
 knowledge. " Men do not think of the fearful state in 
 which we are living," he said; and he did not despair of 
 a remedy, "even though it is the solution of the most 
 difficult problem ever yet proposed to man's wisdom, 
 and the greatest triumph over selfishness ever yet re- 
 quired of his virtue." 
 
 We in America are facing the same problems ; and 
 there was never more need for the " upper classes to 
 make sacrifices," and live unselfish lives for the good of 
 their country, than now. We need to keep ever before us 
 the IJible message, " For none of us liveth to himself." 
 
 Arnold believed rightly in each one doing his share of 
 the world's work and duties. " There is no earthly 
 thing," he said, " more mean and despicable in my mind 
 than an English gentleman destitute of all sense of his 
 responsibilities and opportunities, and only revelling in 
 the luxuries of our high civilization, and thinking him- 
 self a great person."
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD. 171 
 
 He wrote to a pupil who had become a physician, " It 
 is a real pleasure to me to find that you are taking 
 steadily to a profession, without which 1 scarcely see 
 how a man can live honestly. I use the term ' profes- 
 sion ' in rather a large sense ... a definite field of 
 duty, which the nobleman has as much as the tailor, but 
 which he has not, who, having an income large enough 
 to keep him from starving, hangs about upon life, merely 
 following his own caprices and fancies." 
 
 Again he writes to a friend, " I would far rather send 
 a boy to Van Diemen's Land, where he must work for 
 his bread, than send him to Oxford to live in luxury, 
 without any desire in his mind to avail himself of his 
 advantages." As the years went by, the spirit of oppo- 
 sition against Arnold seemed to die out, and the school 
 at Rugby gained continually in numbers and influence. 
 He was presented to the Queen ; he went up to Oxford 
 to see degrees conferred upon Wordsworth and Runsen ; 
 he published more volumes of sermons six in all 
 and two volumes of his admirable " Roman History." 
 
 In 1841 he was appointed by Lord Melbourne, Regius 
 Professor of Modern History at Oxford, the chair being 
 made vacant by the death of Dr. Nares. This gave 
 him great pleasure, and with enthusiasm he began to 
 prepare his lectures. 
 
 He gave his first lecture Dec. 2, 1841, in the "theatre," 
 the usual lecture-rooms in the Clarendon Buildings being 
 too small for the hundreds who crowded to hear him. 
 "It was an audience," says Dean Stanley, "unprece- 
 dented in the range of academical memory." 
 
 He designed to give a yearly course of eight lectures, 
 beginning with the fourteenth century. Some of his 
 lectures were to be biographical : " The life and times of
 
 172 THOMAS A UN OLD. 
 
 Pope Gregory, or the Great," Charlemagne, Alfred, 
 Dante, and "the noblest and holiest of monarchs, Louis 
 IX." 
 
 He wrote Coleridge before going to Oxford, " If I do 
 go up, many things, I can assure you, have been in my 
 thoughts, which I wished gradually to call men's atten- 
 tion to; one in particular, which seems to me a great 
 scandal the debts contracted by the young men, and 
 their backwardness in paying them. I think that no 
 part of this evil is to be ascribed to the tradesmen, 
 because so completely are the tradesmen at the mercy of 
 the undergraduates, that no man dares refuse to give 
 credit ; if he did, his shop would be abandoned." 
 
 Arnold still continued his work at Rugby, remaining 
 in part because two of his sons were being educated 
 there. He was also making final arrangements for an 
 edition of St. Paul's Epistles. 
 
 The last lecture of his first year at Oxford, June 2, 
 1842, was abandoned for the time, on account of a brief, 
 but sudden illness. June o he preached his farewell 
 sermon to the Rugby boys, before the vacation ; and 
 Friday, June 10, was the public-day for school speeches. 
 
 Saturday he was in high spirits, taking his usual walk 
 and bath, and conversing with his guests on social and 
 historical topics. In the evening he gave a supper to 
 some of the higher classes of the school. 
 
 He wrote in his diary that evening, June 11, 1842: 
 " The day after to-morrow is my birthday, if I am per- 
 mitted to live to see it my forty-seventh birthday since 
 my birth. How large a portion of my life on earth is 
 already passed. . . . P>ut above all, let me mind my own 
 personal work to keep myself pure and zealous and 
 believing laboring to do God's will, yet not anxious
 
 THOMAS ARNOLD. 173 
 
 that it should be done by me rather than by others, if 
 God disapproves of my doing it." 
 
 Between five and six o'clock on Sunday morning he 
 awoke with a sharp pain across his chest. He lay with 
 his hands clasped and his eyes raised upwards, while he 
 repeated, " And Jesus said unto him, Thomas, because 
 thou hast seen me, thou hast believed : blessed are they 
 that have not seen, and yet have believed." 
 
 Against Arnold's wish, his wife sent for a physician. 
 Meantime she read to him in the Prayer Book, the fifty- 
 first psalm. The twelfth verse, " O give me the comfort 
 of thy help again, and establish me with thy free spirit," 
 he repeated after her very earnestly. 
 
 The physician soon came, and Arnold, asking the cause 
 of the pain, was told that it was spasm of the heart. 
 
 " Is it generally fatal ? " asked Arnold. " Yes, I am 
 afraid it is," was the reply. 
 
 Soon after the doctor left the house for medicine, and 
 the son Thomas entered the room. " Thank God, Tom," 
 said Arnold, "for giving me this pain; I have suffered 
 so little pain in my life, that I feel it is very good for 
 me i now God has given it to me, and I do so thank Him 
 for it." 
 
 His son said, " I wish, dear papa, we had you at Fox 
 How." He made no reply, but smiled tenderly upon the 
 boy and his mother. 
 
 The doctor soon came ; and .as he was dropping the 
 laudanum into a glass, Arnold asked what medicine it 
 was. On being told, he replied, ' Ah, very well." 
 
 In a moment there was a convulsive struggle, then a 
 few deep gasps, and the work of the great teacher was 
 over. 
 
 Five of their nine children were waiting for their
 
 174 THOMAS ARNOLD. 
 
 father at Fox How, to celebrate his forty-seventh birth- 
 day, and returned to Rugby for the burial. The news 
 brought bewilderment and deep sorrow to Rugby, to 
 Oxford, to London, and indeed to the whole of England. 
 
 On the following Friday he was buried in the chancel, 
 immediately under the communion-table. How many of 
 us Americans have stood by that sacred spot, and remem- 
 bered how one good man can bring honor to his work and 
 nation ! 
 
 Out of gratitude for his services in the cause of educa- 
 tion, a public subscription was at once started. The 
 money subscribed was used to erect his monument in 
 Rugby Chapel, Chevalier Bunsen writing an epitaph for 
 it in imitation of those on the tombs of the Scipios, and 
 of the early Christian inscriptions ; and for scholarships, 
 first to be used by his sons, and afterwards for the 
 promotion of general study at Rugby, and history at 
 Oxford.
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS.
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 THE great orator, thinker, and leader was of the best 
 blood of New England. Educated, brilliant, aristocratic, 
 he gave his life to the lowly. No such self-sacrifice can 
 ever be forgotten. His name will live as long as Amer- 
 ican history is read. 
 
 Wendell Phillips was born in a stately mansion on 
 Beacon Street, Boston, Nov. 29, 1811, the eighth in a 
 family of nine children. The father was the Hon. John 
 Phillips, a rich merchant, a judge of the Court of Com- 
 mon Pleas, a member of the corporation of Harvard 
 College, and of the convention which revised the Con- 
 stitution of the State ; elected to the House of Represen- 
 tatives, and later to the Senate till his death ; the first 
 mayor of Boston ; honored for a noble heart as well as 
 for gifts of speech, and worthy to be the parent of such 
 a son as Wendell. 
 
 Sally Walley, the mother, the daughter of a wealthy 
 merchant, well-educated and of strong nature, soon per- 
 ceived the unusual talents of her son. Her earliest gift 
 to him was a Bible, which was one of his most prized 
 treasures for seventy years. 
 
 Affectionate and domestic by nature, " Wendell's love 
 for his mother was a passion," says the Rev. Carlos 
 Marty n, in his life of Phillips. Her advice to him al- 
 ways was, " Be good and do good ; this is my whole 
 
 175
 
 170 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 desire for you." From her he learned his Bible and the 
 catechism ; and years after, when he stood like a great 
 oak in the forest, beat upon by wind and storm, lie never 
 forgot to keep his trust where his mother first taught 
 him to place it. 
 
 From her knowledge and common sense in political 
 and mercantile affairs, he judged that other women must 
 be able to take part in the world's work, and therefore 
 through life he asked for them an equal place in home 
 and state. 
 
 When a child he enjoyed tools, and would have made 
 a good carpenter or engineer. As his ancestors were 
 mostly preachers he was descended from the Rev. 
 George Phillips, who came from Great Britain in 1630, 
 and was settled at Watertown, Mass., for fourteen years, 
 till his death Wendell seemed inclined to follow in 
 their footsteps ; for when he was four or five years old, 
 he would put a Bible in the chair before him, and, ar- 
 ranging other chairs in a circle, would address them by 
 the hour. 
 
 " Wendell," said his father, " don't you get tired of 
 this ? " 
 
 " No," said the boy, " / don't get tired, but it's rather 
 hard on the chairs ! " 
 
 His most intimate playmate was J. Lothrop Motley, 
 afterward the celebrated historian. Often, in the Motley 
 garret, they dressed themselves in fancy costume, and 
 declaimed poetry and dialogue ; a good preparation for 
 the after years. 
 
 At eleven years of age Wendell was sent to the Boston 
 Latin School, then on School Street, where the Parker 
 House now stands. Here he met and became the warm 
 friend of the studious Charles Sumner.
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 177 
 
 While noted for his love of books and power in decla- 
 mation, he was also fond of sports, boating, horseback- 
 riding, and all gymnastic exercises. He was tall, graceful, 
 and handsome. 
 
 In 1827, when he was sixteen, he entered Harvard 
 College, whose buildings, noble trees, and shaded walks 
 have become dear to thousands, and will be through all 
 time. The widowed mother John Phillips had been 
 dead four years gave her promising boy her blessing, 
 and sent him out into the world to make a man of him- 
 self by virtuous and noble living, or to spoil himself by 
 yielding to temptation, as he should elect. He chose the 
 former course. 
 
 He became the intimate friend of Edmund Quincy, the 
 son of the president of the college, Josiah Quincy. He 
 stood high in his classes, besides reading extensively in 
 general history and mechanics. He was also greatly 
 interested in genealogy. 
 
 Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Harry Vane, Oliver Cromwell, 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montague, and James Watt were 
 among his English heroes, and Benjamin Franklin, Sam- 
 uel Adams, and Eli Whitney among his American. Scott 
 and Victor Hugo were great favorites. Elizabeth Barrett 
 Browning he regarded as the first of modern poets. 
 Through life he was an omniverons reader of news- 
 papers. 
 
 He was versed in several languages, German, Italian, 
 and Spanish, but French was his favorite among the 
 modern tongues. He was always skilled in Latin. 
 
 Already his life had become more serious through the 
 preaching of Dr. Lyman Beecher. The Rev. Dr. 0. 1*. 
 Gilford relates that Phillips once told a friend that he 
 asked God " that whenever a thing be wrong it may have
 
 178 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 no power of temptation over me ; whenever a thing be 
 right, it may take no courage to do it. From that day to 
 this it has been so. Whenever I have known a thing 
 to be wrong, it has held no temptation. Whenever I 
 have known a thing to be right, it has taken no courage 
 to do it." 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Edgar Buckingham, secretary of the class 
 of 1831, says : " I remember well his appearance of de- 
 voutness during morning and evening prayers in the 
 chapel, which many attended only to save their credit 
 with the authorities. Doddridge's ' Expositor ' Wendell 
 bore to college in his Freshman year (a present, I think, 
 from his mother, a new volume), to be his help in daily 
 thought and prayer." 
 
 Another of his classmates says : " Before entering 
 college he had been the subject of religious revival. 
 Previous to that he used to give way to violent outbursts 
 of temper, and his schoolmates would sometimes amuse 
 themselves by deliberately working him into a passion. 
 But after his conversion they could never succeed in get- 
 ting him out of temper." 
 
 " He had a deep love for all that was true and honor- 
 able," said his room-mate, the Rev. John Tappan Pierce 
 of Illinois, " always detested a mean action. His Bible 
 was always open on the centre-table. His character was 
 perfectly transparent ; there were no subterfuges, no pre- 
 tences about him. He was known by all to be just what 
 he seemed. ... As an orator, Phillips took the highest 
 stand of any graduate of our day. I never knew him to 
 fail in anything or hesitate in a recitation." 
 
 Dr. Buckingham speaks of his " kindly, generous man- 
 ner, his brightness of mind, his perfect purity and white- 
 ness of soul; . . . with a most attractive face, 'a smile
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 179 
 
 that was a benediction,' with manners of superior ele- 
 gance, with conversation filled with the charms of litera- 
 ture, with biography and history, full of refined pleasantry, 
 ... it was no wonder that his society was courted and 
 respected by those who had wealth at their command, 
 and still more by those young men who came from the 
 South." 
 
 He was a member of the " Phi Beta Kappa," on account 
 of his scholarship, and president of the exclusive " Por- 
 cellian " and " Hasty-Pudding Club." 
 
 After graduation Phillips entered the Harvard Law 
 School, under the brilliant Judge Story, and was admitted 
 to the bar when he was twenty-three. 
 
 His first honor, after leaving the law school, was the 
 invitation to deliver a Fourth of July address at New 
 Bedford. 
 
 Charles T. Congdon, the well-known journalist, says : 
 " When Phillips stood up in the pulpit, I thought him 
 the handsomest man I had ever seen. When he began 
 to speak, his elocution seemed the most perfect to which 
 I had ever listened. . . . He was speaking of the politi- 
 cal history of the State, and of its frequent isolation in 
 politics, and electrified us all by exclaiming, ( The star of 
 Massachusetts has shone the brighter for shining alone ! ' " 
 How little he foreknew his own isolation and the bright- 
 ness of the star which shone almost alone for so many 
 years ! 
 
 He opened an office on Court Street, Boston, and began 
 regular work, knowing tit at idleness brings no fame. He 
 drew up legal papers, wills, etc., and, as he told a friend, 
 during " those two opening years I paid all my expenses, 
 and few do it now." 
 
 On the afternoon of Oct. 2.1. 1835, sitting beside an
 
 180 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 open window on Court Street, he saw a noisy crowd on 
 Washington Street ; and curiosity prompted him to put 
 on his hat, and learn the reason of the commotion. He 
 found a mob of four or five thousand men trying to force, 
 their way into the office of the Anti-Slavery Society, No. 
 40 Washington Street, where the Boston Female Anti- 
 Slavery Society was holding its meeting. Warning hand- 
 bills had been circulated about the city, and threats had 
 been heard concerning the women if they attempted to 
 assemble ; yet nobody really believed that, in a rich and 
 cultivated city, a company of thirty women would be 
 mobbed on account of free speech. It had not then 
 become apparent that the North was bound hand and foot 
 by the slave-power. 
 
 While the women prayed, the " broadcloth " mob, of 
 well-dressed men, in large part " gentlemen of property 
 and standing," Avere yelling and cursing outside. Mayor 
 Lyman appeared on the scene, and commanded the 
 women to disperse, as he was powerless to protect them 
 from bloodshed. He besought the mob to lay down their 
 arms ; but they pushed their way into the hall, appropri- 
 ated the Testaments and Prayer-books, and then began 
 to search for William Lloyd Garrison, who was in an 
 adjoining room. He escaped across a roof, by the advice 
 of the Mayor, btit was caught by the mob, who coiled a 
 rope around his body, and dragged him, bare-headed, and 
 witli torn garments, into State Street, toward the City 
 Hall, shouting, " Kill him ! " " Hang the Abolitionist ! " 
 
 He was taken to the Mayor's room, provided with 
 needful clothing, thrust into a closed carriage, and driven 
 rapidly to jail, "as a disturber of the peace," but in 
 reality to save his life. The mob clung to the wheels, 
 dashed open the doors, seized the horses, and tried to
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 181 
 
 upset the carriage ; but the driver laid his whip on horses 
 and heads of rioters alike, and Garrison was finally safely 
 locked in a cell. 
 
 Wendell Phillips looked on bewildered, and seeing, 
 near by, the colonel of his own Suffolk regiment, in^which 
 he also was an officer, said, " Why does not the Mayor 
 call out the regiment ? We would cheerfully take arms 
 in such a case as this." 
 
 The reply was, " Don't you see that the regiment is in 
 the mob ? " 
 
 The young lawyer went back to his office sadly and 
 thouglit fully. 
 
 He said, twenty years later, before the anti-slavery 
 meeting on the anniversary of this mob: "Let me thank 
 the women who came here twenty years ago, some of 
 whom are met here to-day, for the good they have done 
 me. I thank them for all they have taught me. 1 had 
 read Greek and Roman and English history ; I had by 
 heart the classic eulogies of brave old men and martyrs ; 
 I dreamed, in my folly, that 1 heard the same tone in my 
 youth from the cuckoo lips of Edward Everett; these 
 women taught me my mistake. They taught me that 
 down in those hearts, which loved a principle for itself, 
 asked no man's leave to think or speak, true to their 
 convictions, no matter at what hazard, flowed the real 
 blood of 70, of 1()40, of the hemlock-drinker of Athens, 
 and of the martyr-saints of Jerusalem. I thank them 
 for it ! " 
 
 The year after the Garrison mobbing scene, 1'hillips 
 bi-gan to take part in the lyeeum lectures, which at that 
 time were popular, as the University Extension lectures 
 are now. He spoke usually upon some topic in natural 
 science, being more fond of this evidently than of the law.
 
 182 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 The colored people were refused admittance to lec- 
 tures ; and this fact so incensed Emerson, Sunnier, George 
 William Curtis, and Phillips, that they refused to speak 
 where the negroes were not admitted. This refusal soon, 
 broke the exclusive and unnatural custom. 
 
 In this year, 1836, Phillips met a young lady two years 
 younger than himself, Ann Terry Greene, the daughter 
 of a wealthy Boston merchant. Her cousin, Miss Grew, 
 was to go by stage-coach with her intended husband to 
 Greenfield, Mass., and Miss Greene was to accompany 
 them. Phillips was asked to join the party. The bril- 
 liant young woman, as she herself said, "talked abolition 
 to him all the way up." Mr. Phillips was never a great 
 talker, but a good listener. He said, " I learn something 
 from every one." 
 
 Both parents were dead ; and she had been received as 
 a daughter into the home of her uncle and aunt, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Henry G. Chapman, who lived in Chauncy Place, 
 near Summer Street. Both were warm friends of Garri- 
 son, and deeply interested in the anti-slavery movement. 
 The young girl, with all the enthusiasm of youth, and 
 the impulse of a strong and noble nature, espoused the 
 cause of the slave, and was not afraid to stand for the 
 right in a choice so unpopular among the rich and aristo- 
 cratic. 
 
 The acquaintance begun on the stage-coach resulted in 
 an engagement the lame year ; and the following year, 
 Oct. 12, 1837, they were married. Like Mrs. Browning, 
 Miss Greene was an invalid at the time of her marriage, 
 and remained thus all her life. 
 
 " Of Mr. Phillips's unbounded admiration and love for 
 his wife," writes Francis Jackson Garrison in his memo- 
 rial sketch of " Ann Phillips," " of his chivalrous devo-
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 183 
 
 tion to her, and absolute self-abnegation through the 
 more than forty-six years of their married life, and of 
 his oft-confessed indebtedness to her for her wise counsel 
 and inspiration, matchless courage, and unswerving con- 
 stancy, the world knows in a general way ; but only those 
 who have been intimately acquainted with them both 
 can fully realize and appreciate it all. They also know 
 how ardent was her affection for him, and how great her 
 pride in his labors and achievements." 
 
 When his speeches were first published in book form, 
 
 in 1803, he wrote on the title-page of one volume, and 
 
 gave it to his wife, " Speeches and Lectures. By Ann 
 
 Phillips." Thus thoroughly did he appreciate her help- 
 
 , fulness. 
 
 Mrs. Phillips wrote to a friend regarding her husband, 
 whom she called her " better three-quarters" " When I 
 first met Wendell, I used to think, ' It can never come to 
 pass ; such a being as he is could never think of me.' I 
 looked upon it as something as strange as a fairy-tale." 
 
 A month after her marriage, she wrote a friend, Nov. 
 19, 1837 : " Only last year, on my sick-bed, I thought I 
 should never see another birthday, and I must go and 
 leave him in the infancy of our love, in the dawn of my 
 new life ; and how does to-day find me ? the blessed and 
 happv wife of one T thought 1 should never perhaps live 
 to see. Thanks be to (rod for all his goodness to us, and 
 may he make me more worthy of my Wendell! I cannot 
 help thinking how little I have acquired, and Wendell, 
 only two years older, seems to know a world more." 
 
 And yet, with all this depreciation of self, she had 
 such a fine mind and sound judgment that Phillips de- 
 ferred to her constantly, talked over with her the argu- 
 ments of his speeches, and valued her approval more
 
 184 WENDELL PUILLIPS. 
 
 than that of all the world beside. As in the case of John 
 Stuart Mill and his wife, intellectual companionship 
 seemed the basis of their extremely happy married life. 
 
 Four years later they moved into a modest brick house, 
 26 Essex Street, given to Mrs. Phillips by her father, 
 where they lived for forty years. From here Mrs. Phillips 
 writes to a friend concerning herself : " Now what do you 
 think her life is ? Why, she strolls out a few steps oc- 
 casionally, calling it a walk ; the rest of the time from 
 bed to sofa, from sofa to rocking-chair ; reads generally 
 the Standard and Liberator, and that is pretty much all 
 the literature her aching head will allow her to peruse ; 
 rarely writes a letter, sees no company, makes no calls, 
 looks forward to spring and birds, when she will be a 
 little freer. ... I am not well enough even to have 
 friends to tea, so that all I strive to do is to keep the 
 house neat and keep myself about. I have attended no 
 meetings since I helped fill ' the negro pew.' What anti- 
 slavery news I get, I get second-hand. I should not get 
 along at all, so great is my darkness, were it not for 
 Wendell to tell me that the world is still going. . . . We 
 are very happy, and only have to regret my health being 
 so poor, and our own sinfulness. Dear Wendell speaks 
 whenever he can leave me, and for his sake I sometimes 
 wish I were myself again ; but I dare say it is all right 
 as it is." 
 
 In 184C Mrs. Phillips writes: "Dear Wendell has met 
 with a sad affliction this fall in the death of his mother. 
 . . . She was everything to him indeed, to all her 
 children ; a devoted mother and uncommon woman. . . . 
 So poor unworthy I am more of a treasure to Wendell 
 than ever, and a pretty frail one. For his sake I should 
 love to live ; for my own part I am tired, not of life, but
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 185 
 
 of a sick one. I meet with but little sympathy ; for these 
 long cases are looked upon as half, if not wholly, make- 
 believes, as if playing well would not be far better than 
 playing sick." 
 
 On the same sheet of paper Mr. Phillips writes : 
 " Dear Ann has spoken of my dear mother's death. My 
 good, noble, dear mother ! We differed utterly on the 
 matter of slavery, and she grieved a good deal over what 
 she thought a waste of my time, and a sad disappoint- 
 ment to her; but still I am always best satisfied with 
 myself when I fancy I can see anything in me which 
 reminds me of my mother. She lived in her children, 
 and they almost lived in her, and the world is a different 
 one, now she is gone ! " 
 
 Nearly a dozen years later Mr. Phillips writes to a 
 friend : " We are this summer at Milton, one of the most 
 delightful of our country towns, about ten miles from 
 Boston. Ann's brother lias a place here, and we are with 
 him. She is as usual little sleep, very weak, never 
 goes down-stairs, in most excellent and cheerful spirits, 
 interested keenly in all good things, and, I sometimes 
 tell her, so much my motive and prompter to every good 
 thing, that I fear, should I lose her, there'd be nothing of 
 me left worth your loving." 
 
 After they had been married thirteen years, having no 
 children of their own, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips took into 
 their home, as a daughter, Pluebe Garnaut, twelve years 
 old, the daughter of the lovely Eliza Garnaut, who had 
 died of cholera the year before, through her unselfish 
 devotion to others. This child remained to brighten the 
 Phillips' home for ten years, when she married Mr. 
 George Washburn Smalley, the London correspondent of 
 the New York Tribune, and made her home abroad.
 
 186 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 Dr. Buckingham says truly that Wendell Phillips " was 
 a lover all his life, not with the instinctive love of 
 youth alone, but with the secured attachment, the quiet 
 confidence of the heart, the beautiful affectionateness, 
 which, in the later years of the pure and good, is a far 
 superior development of character, and a far richer en- 
 joyment, than the effervescence of youthful days. She 
 was, as he wrote me once, his counsel, his guide, his 
 inspiration." 
 
 As long as Mr. Phillips lived, whenever he was at 
 home, he visited the markets daily, searching for things 
 which should tempt the appetite of "Ann/' Lovely 
 flowers were in her Avindows from one year's end to the 
 other, placed there by his thoughtfulness or that of other 
 dear friends. Pond of music, he daily left her money 
 for the hand-organs played beneath her window. Her 
 love, her cheer, her enthusiastic devotion to the great 
 causes which he pleaded with inimitable grace and 
 power, more than paid him for all his care and self- 
 sacrifice. 
 
 Two months after their marriage came the event 
 which made him, like Byron, " awake to find himself 
 famous." 
 
 On Nov. 7, 1837, the llev. Elijah P. Lovejoy was mur- 
 dered by a pro-slavery mob in Alton, 111. lie was a Pres- 
 byterian clergyman from Maine, a graduate of Waterville 
 College. Going West, he became the editor of the St. 
 Louis Observer, a weekly religious paper of his own 
 denomination. 
 
 A negro having been chained to a tree and burned to 
 death for killing an officer who attempted to arrest him, 
 the judge decided in favor of the mob. Rev. Mr. Love- 
 joy protested against such barbarity, and his printing-
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 187 
 
 office was at once destroyed by the lawless. He moved 
 his paper to Alton, 111., but the slavery sympathizers 
 destroyed his press. Some citizens reimbursed him for 
 the loss. Another press was purchased and destroyed, 
 and then another. The fourth press, the mayor and law- 
 abiding citizens determined should be defended. 
 
 In the evening a mob gathered from the saloons, 
 their 1 usual place of starting, and threatened to burn 
 the building where it was stored. The officials seemed 
 powerless, the building was fired, and the Rev. Mr. 
 Lovejoy received three balls in his breast. 
 
 The death of this young minister in a free State sent a 
 thrill of indignation throughout the North. Dr. William 
 Ellery Clianning and one hundred others called a meet- 
 ing at Faneuil Hall, Boston, for the morning of Dec. 8. 
 
 The Hon. Jonathan Phillips, a relative of Wendell 
 Phillips, presided over the crowded assemblage. Dr. 
 Clianning spoke eloquently. Soon in the gallery, James 
 T. Austin, the Attorney-general of Massachusetts, a prom- 
 inent lawyer, and member of Dr. Channing's congrega- 
 tion, arose and declared that Lovejoy "died as the fool 
 dieth," and compared his murderers to the men who 
 destroyed the tea in Boston harbor. The audience was 
 intensely excited. 
 
 Young Phillips, twenty-six years old and compara- 
 tively unknown, standing among the people, there are 
 no seats in the hall, said to his neighbor, " Such a 
 speech in Faneuil- Hall must be answered in Faneuil 
 Hall." 
 
 "Why not answer it yourself? " whispered the man. 
 
 " Help me to the platform and I will," was the reply ; 
 and pushing his way through the turbulent crowd he 
 reached the rostrum.
 
 188 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 He began with all the grace and self-control which 
 characterized him in after years. There were mingled 
 cries of, " Question," " Hear him," " Go on," " No gag- 
 ging," and the like. 
 
 "Hiding the whirlwind undismayed," says George 
 \Villiam Curtis, in his eulogy, " he stood upon the plat- 
 form in all the beauty and grace of imperial youth 
 the Greeks would have said a god descended and in 
 words that touched the mind and heart and conscience 
 of that vast multitude, as with fire from Leaven, recall- 
 ing Boston to herself, he saved his native city and her 
 cradle of liberty from the damning disgrace of stoning 
 the first martyr in the great struggle for personal free- 
 dom." 
 
 "Mr. Chairman/' he said, " when I heard the gentle- 
 man lay down principles which 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 on the wall), would have broken into voice 
 to rebuke the recreant American the slanderer of the 
 dead. . . . Sir, 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 
 swallowed him up." 
 
 This was received with applause and hisses, with cries 
 of, "Make him take kick 'recreant.' He shaVt go on 
 till he takes it back." 
 
 As soon as he could proceed he said, "Fellow-citizens, 
 I cannot take back my words. Surely the Attorney- 
 General, so long and well-known here, needs not the aid 
 of your hisses against one so young as I am, my voice 
 never before heard within these walls ! " 
 
 "In the annals of American speech," says Curtis,
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 189 
 
 " there had been no such scene since Patrick Henry's 
 electrical warning to George the Third. . . . Three such 
 scenes are illustrious in our history. That of the speech 
 of Patrick Henry at Williamsburg, of Wendell Phillips 
 in Faneuil Hall, and of Abraham Lincoln in Gettysburg 
 three, and there is no fourth." 
 
 From this time AVendell Phillips was famous ; but, save 
 for the approbation of his young wife, he stood nearly 
 alone. He had already spoken once before an Anti- 
 Slavery Convention at Lynn, Mass. He was now a de- 
 spised abolitionist. His family were disappointed, his 
 college was surprised, his law constituency well-nigh 
 disappeared. He was socially ostracized. 
 
 James Russell Lowell, who also knew what it cost to 
 be on the unpopular side, spoke thus nobly of Phillips : 
 
 " He stood upon the world's broad threshold; wide 
 
 The din of battle and of slaughter rose; 
 He saw God stand upon the weaker side, 
 
 That sank in seeming loss before its foes; 
 Many there were, who made great haste and sold 
 
 Unto the cunning enemy their swords; 
 He scorned their gifts of fame and power and gold, 
 
 And, underneath their soft and flowery words, 
 Heard the cold serpent hiss ; therefore he went 
 
 And humbly joined him to the weaker part, 
 Fanatic named, and fool, yet well content 
 
 So he conld be the nearer to God's heart, 
 And feel its solemn pulses sending blood 
 Through all the wide-spread veins of endless good." 
 
 Mr. Phillips turned his time and thought more than 
 ever to the lecture platform, because in this way he could 
 mould public opinion. He began to deliver " The Lost 
 Arts," in 1838, which gives a glimpse of early civiliza-
 
 190 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 tion in glass-making, in gems, colors, metals, canals, etc., 
 and gave it over two thousand times during the next 
 forty-five years, receiving for it, Dr. Martyn says, which 
 statement he heard from Phillips's own lips, a net result 
 of $150,000. 
 
 When asked to lecture he would state his price if he 
 were, to speak on science or biography, of which he was 
 especially fond, but would make no charges and pay 
 his own expenses if he might speak on slavery or tem- 
 perance. If he spoke once he was sure to be sought 
 again, and sooner or later the people heard concerning 
 the subjects to which he had dedicated his life. 
 
 Having been made the general agent of the Massa- 
 chusetts Anti-Slavery Society, Phillips organized a strong 
 lecture force, and made every schoolhouse and church 
 where he was allowed to enter the centre for discus- 
 sions. Mrs. Phillips's health seeming to fail more and 
 more, it was deemed wise to cross the ocean for her 
 sake. They accordingly sailed from New York for 
 London, June 6, 1839, arriving in July^. They visited 
 France, Italy, and Germany, and remained abroad two 
 years, without, however, any improvement for the invalid 
 wife. 
 
 On June 12, 1840, a World's Anti-Slavery Convention 
 began its sessions in London. A call had been issued, 
 addressed to the " Friends of the slave of every nation 
 and of every clime." American societies sent delegates, 
 Wendell Phillips and his wife, already abroad, Lucretia 
 Mott, the distinguished Quaker, Garrison, and many others. 
 
 When they reached England, the women were refused 
 as delegates. They asked Wendell Phillips to plead 
 their cause. When he left the house in London to do 
 so, his wife said to him, " Wendell, don't shilly-shally."
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 191 
 
 He spoke with his usual politeness and power : " It is 
 the custom there [America] not to admit colored men 
 into respectable society; and we have been told again 
 and again that we are outraging the decencies of human- 
 ity when we permit colored men to sit by our side. 
 When we have submitted to brickbats and the tar-tub 
 and feathers in America, rather than yield to the custom 
 prevalent there of not admitting colored brethren into 
 our friendship, shall we yield 'to parallel custom or 
 prejudice against women in Old England ? 
 
 " We cannot yield this question if we would, for it is a 
 matter of conscience, . . . and British virtue ought not 
 to ask us to yield." 
 
 The women were not admitted, however, and were 
 obliged to sit in the gallery as spectators. None the 
 less the women of both nations owe Phillips hearty 
 thanks for his appreciation and his justice. Father Ma- 
 thew, the great temperance leader of Ireland, deeply 
 regretted the exclusion of the women delegates. 
 
 After the convention, Phillips and his wife went, by 
 way of Belgium and the Rhine, to Kissingen, in Bavaria. 
 He writes to a friend in England : " To Americans it was 
 especially pleasant to see at Frankfort the oldest printed 
 Bible in the world, and two pairs of Luther's shoes, 
 which Ann would not quit sight of till I had mustered 
 German enough to ask the man to let the ^little girl ' 
 feel of them." 
 
 Again he writes : " We started for Florence, by Bo- 
 logna, that jewel of a city ; . . . for she admits women 
 to be professors in her university, her gallery guards 
 their paintings, her palaces boast their sculptures. I 
 gloried in standing beside a woman-professor's monu- 
 ment, set up side by side with that of the illustrious 
 Galvani."
 
 192 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 To Garrison he writes from Naples, having then the 
 same sympathy for the poor and the laborer which he 
 showed through life : " When you meet in the same 
 street a man encompassed witli all the equipage of wealth, 
 and the beggar, on whose brow disease and starvation 
 have written his title to your pity, the question is, invol- 
 untarily, Is this a Christian city? To my mind the 
 answer is, No. . . . 
 
 " I hope the discussion of the question of property 
 will not cease until the Church is convinced that, from 
 Christian lips ownership means responsibility for the right 
 use of what God has given; that the title of a needy 
 brother is as sacred as the owner's own, and infringed 
 upon, too, whenever that owner allows the siren voice of 
 his own tastes to drown the cry of another's necessities. 
 . . . None know what it is to live till they redeem life 
 from monotony by sacrifice." 
 
 After the return of the Phillipses, the anti-slavery 
 work was taken up more vigorously than ever. Colored 
 children were not allowed to study in the schools with 
 white in Boston. Phillips agitated till separate colored 
 schools were abolished. He appealed to the Legislature 
 of his native State to compel railroads, as common car- 
 riers, to admit the negro to the cars, and finally was 
 successful. 
 
 He shared, like Henry Ward Beecher and Lucretia 
 Mott, the discomforts of the colored man. Frederick 
 Douglass said, in his oration on Phillips, given before his 
 own race, in Washington, 1884 : " On one occasion, after 
 delivering a lecture to the New Bedford Lyceum, before 
 a highly cultivated audience, when brought to the rail- 
 road station (as I was not allowed to travel in a first-class 
 car, but was compelled to ride in a filthy box called the
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 103 
 
 ' Jim Crow ' car), lie stepped to my side, in the presence 
 of his aristocratic friends, and walked with me straight 
 into this miserable dog-car, saying, ' Douglass, if you 
 cannot ride with me, I can ride with yon.' 
 
 " On the Sound, between New York and Newport, in 
 those dark days, a colored passenger was not allowed 
 abaft the wheels of the steamer, and had to spend the 
 night on the forward deck, with horses, sheep, and swine. 
 On such trips, when I was a passenger, Wendell Phillips 
 preferred to walk the naked deck with me to taking a 
 state-room. I could not persuade him to leave me to 
 bear the burden of insult and outrage alone." 
 
 In 1850 the " irrepressible conflict " between freedom 
 and slavery was reaching its climax. The Fugitive-Slave 
 Law, fathered by Henry Clay, and, to the dismay of a 
 large portion of the North, upheld by Daniel Webster in 
 his 7th of March speech, had been signed by the Presi- 
 dent, Millard Fillmore, Sept. 18, 1850. This bill made 
 slave-hunting and the return of slaves to their masters 
 a duty. 
 
 A great company, presided over by Charles Francis 
 Adams, and addressed by Phillips and others, in Faneuil 
 Hall, protested ; but the North was powerless or suppli- 
 ant. Mobs broke up anti-slavery meetings in New York 
 City. Colored men, on one pretext or another, were 
 seized and carried back to slavery. 
 
 On April 3, 1851, Thomas Sims, a slave, was arrested 
 in Boston, and, after a hurried examination before the 
 United States Commissioner, was given up to his pursu- 
 ers. The poor slave youth begged this favor : " Give me 
 a knife," he said, " and when the commissioner declares 
 me a slave, I will stab myself to the heart, and die before 
 his eyes."
 
 194 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 At midnight the Mayor of Boston, with two or three 
 hundred policemen, heavily armed, placed Sims on board 
 the ship Acorn, and sent him back into bondage. 
 
 Great meetings were held on Boston Common and in 
 Tremont Temple to protest against this action, but they 
 were of no avail. A year later, on the anniversary of 
 the rendition of Sims, Phillips gave a thrilling address 
 at the Melodeon. Looking towards the future, he said, 
 " I know what civil war is. ... And yet I do not know 
 that, to an enlightened mind, a scene of civil war is any 
 more sickening than the thought of a hundred and fifty 
 years of slavery. Take the broken hearts, the bereaved 
 mothers, the infant wrung from the hands of its parents, 
 the husband and wife torn asunder, every right trodden 
 under foot, the blighted hopes, the imbruted souls, the 
 darkened and degraded millions, sunk below the level of 
 intellectual life, melted in sensuality, herded with beasts, 
 who have walked over the burning marl of Southern sla- 
 very to their graves, and where is the battle-field, how- 
 ever ghastly, that is not white white as an angel's 
 wing compared with the blackness of that darkness 
 which has brooded over the Carolinas for two hundred 
 years ? " 
 
 Meantime, what had become of Sims ? On arriving at 
 Savannah he was severely whipped, and confined in a cell 
 for two months. He was then sent to a slave-market at 
 Charleston, and thence to another market at Xe\v Or- 
 leans. Finally he was purchased by a brick-mason, taken 
 to Vicksburg, and in 18G3 he escaped to the besieging 
 army of Grant, and was given transportation to the 
 North. 
 
 Three years later, May 14, 1854, Anthony Burns, a 
 slave, was arrested, and on June '2, marched through
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 195 
 
 Court Street and State Street, over the ground where 
 Crispus Attucks, a colored man, fell as the first victim in 
 the Boston Massacre in the Revolution, to the wharf, in 
 the centre of a concourse of people, guarded by com- 
 panies of militia and protected by cannon. The streets 
 were draped in black by the indignant citizens, and the 
 bells tolled a dirge, as the bound slave was thrust into 
 the hold of a vessel ready to start for Virginia. Burns 
 was the last black man carried back to his masters from 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 Meantime, Wendell Phillips had been fighting other 
 battles. In October, 1850, the first National AVoman 
 Suffrage Convention was held at Worcester, Mass. Nine 
 States responded. Phillips spoke earnestly, but no full 
 report of his address or of others was taken. 
 
 The next year, 1851, at Worcester, he made a brilliant 
 speech at the second National Woman Suffrage Conven- 
 tion. Of that speech, given in full in Mr. Phillips's 
 " Speeches and Lectures " published in 1863, Mr. Curtis 
 says, in his eulogy of Phillips : " In his general state- 
 ment of principle nothing has been added to that dis- 
 course ; in vivid and effective eloquence of advocacy it 
 has never been surpassed." 
 
 " What we ask is simply this," said Phillips, " what 
 all other classes have asked before : Leave it to woman 
 to choose for herself her profession, her education, and 
 her sphere. We deny to any portion of the species the 
 right to prescribe to any other portion its sphere, its 
 education, or its rights. . . . The sphere of each man, 
 of each woman, of each individual, is that sphere which 
 he can, with the highest exercise of his powers, perfectly 
 fill. The highest act which the human being can do, 
 that is the act which God designed him to do. . . . The 
 tools, now, to him or her who can use them. . . .
 
 196 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 " While woman is admitted to the gallows, the jail, 
 and the tax-list, we have no right to debar her from the 
 ballot-box." 
 
 He had no fears that woman's natural grace or tender- 
 ness would be marred by depositing her vote in the ballot- 
 box. " Let education," he said, " form the rational and 
 moral being, and nature will take care of the woman." 
 
 On another occasion Mr. Phillips gave this illustra- 
 tion : " Goethe said, that, ' if you plant an oak in a 
 flower-pot, one of two things was sure to happen, 
 either the oak will be dwarfed, or the flower-pot will 
 break.' So we have planted woman in a flower-pot, 
 hemmed her in by restrictions ; and, when we move to 
 enlarge her sphere, society cries out, ' Oh, you'll break 
 the flower-pot ! ' Well, I say, let it break. Man made 
 it, and the sooner it goes to pieces the better. Let us 
 see how broadly the branches will throw themselves, 
 and how beautiful will be the shape, and how glorious 
 against the moonlit sky or glowing sunset the foliage 
 shall appear ! " 
 
 He thought the idea that woman would have no time 
 for political matters an absurdity, when the soldier, the 
 busy manufacturer, the lawyer, the president of a col- 
 lege, and the artisan have time to vote. 
 
 " Responsibility," he said, " is one instrument a 
 great instrument of education, both moral and intel- 
 lectual. It sharpens the faculties. It unfolds the moral 
 nature. It makes the careless prudent, and turns reck- 
 lessness into sobriety. . . . Woman can never study 
 those great questions that interest and stir most deeply 
 the human mind, until she studies them under the min- 
 gled stimulus and check of this responsibility. . . . The 
 great school of this people is the jury-box and the bal-
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 197 
 
 lot-box. . . . Great political questions stir the deepest 
 nature of one-half the nation ; but they pass far above 
 and over the heads of the other half. Yet, meanwhile, 
 theorists wonder that the first have their whole nature 
 unfolded, and the others will persevere in being dwarfed." 
 
 In 1861, in Cooper Institute, New York, Mr. Phillips 
 said : " Let public opinion only grant that, like their 
 thousand brothers, those women may go out, and, wher- 
 ever they find work to do, do it without a stigma being 
 set upon them. Let the educated girl of twenty have 
 the same liberty to use the pen, to practise law, to write 
 books, to serve in a library, to tend in a gallery of art, 
 to do anything that her brother can do." And lie asked 
 for woman equal wages with man for the same work. 
 
 The anti-slavery war was still waging. The Kansas 
 and Nebraska Act, by which the people were left to fight 
 out the battle of slavery or freedom on their own soil, 
 resulted, as might have been expected, in bloodshed. 
 Among those who went to Kansas, determined to help 
 make it a free State, was John Brown, whose pathetic 
 life has been written recently by that eminent anti- 
 slavery worker and author, Frank B. Sanborn, Esq., of 
 Concord, Mass. 
 
 During those dreadful years of civil war in Kansas, 
 Brown and his family suffered all manner of hardships. 
 Some of his sons were in prison, and some murdered. 
 He had always wished to free the slaves, had helped 
 many to escape, and in 1859 carried out a plan, long in 
 his mind, to establish a station in Virginia, near enough 
 to a free State, where fugitive slaves could defend them- 
 selves for a time, till they could be helped into Canada. 
 
 On Sunday evening, Oct. 1G, 1859, Brown, with eigh- 
 teen men, arrived at Harper's Ferry, broke down the
 
 198 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 armory-gate, and took possession of the village, without 
 firing a gun. The citizens soon armed, several men 
 were killed, and, before the next night, Brown and his 
 company, now reduced to six, Avere barricaded in the 
 engine-house. Colonel Robert E. Lee, afterwards the Con- 
 federate general, arrived with some United States marines 
 from Washington, and Brown was ordered to surrender, 
 which he refused to do. When he was finally captured, 
 his two sons were dead, and he was thought to be dying 
 from his wounds. 
 
 He met his death bravely on the scaffold at Charles- 
 town, Va., Dec. 2, 1859. 
 
 He wrote a friend, a short time before his death, " I 
 think I cannot better serve the cause I love so much 
 than to die for it ; and in my death I may do more than 
 in my life." 
 
 The day he died, he wfote on a piece of paper and 
 handed it to one of the guards, " I, John Brown, am now 
 quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will 
 never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now 
 think vainly, flattered myself that without very much 
 bloodshed it might be done." 
 
 As he rode on the wagon to the scaffold, at eleven 
 o'clock, looking out over the two thousand Virginian sol- 
 diers, the distant hills, and the Blue Ridge Mountains, 
 he said, " This is a beautiful country ; I have not cast 
 my eyes over it before that is, in this direction." He 
 thanked his jailer for his kindness, and said, " I am 
 ready at any time do not keep ine waiting ; " and died 
 without a tremor. 
 
 Victor Hugo said, " His hangman is the whole Ameri- 
 can Republic. . . . What the South slew last December 
 was not John Brown, but slavery."
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 199 
 
 Brown's body was delivered to his wife, and she bore 
 it to New York. Wendell Phillips met the funeral com- 
 pany at that city, and they carried the body to North 
 Elba, iu the Adirondack Mountains. He was buried 
 Dec. 8, 1859, Mr. Phillips speaking eloquently and 
 touchingly at the grave. " He has abolished slavery in 
 Virginia," said Phillips. . . . "History will date Vir- 
 ginia emancipation from Harper's Ferry. True, the 
 slave is still there. So, when the tempest uproots a 
 pine on yon hill, it looks green for months a year or 
 two. Still, it is timber, not a tree. John Brown has 
 loosened the roots of the slave system ; it only breathes, 
 it does not live, hereafter." 
 
 How strange it was that only a few short months 
 afterward thousands of Union soldiers were inarching 
 to battle, singing that inspiring strain, 
 
 " John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, 
 And his soul is marching on!" 
 
 While Brown lay in prison at Charlestown, Va., a 
 meeting was held in Tremont Temple, Boston, to raise 
 money for his impoverished family. John A. Andrew, 
 not then governor, presided. Emerson, Phillips, and the 
 Rev. J. M. Manning, Congregationalist, of the "Old 
 South " Church, made earnest addresses. The latter said, 
 " I am here to represent the church of Sam Adams and 
 Wendell Phillips ; and I want all the world to know 
 that I am not afraid to ride in the coach when Wendell 
 Phillips sits on the box." 
 
 In New York a meeting for the same purpose was 
 confronted by a fierce mob. On Staten Island, when 
 Phillips attempted to lecture, George William Curtis 
 presiding, a mob gathered on the road and sidewalk. A
 
 200 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 lady driving up, a man from West Brighton rushed to 
 the carriage-door, followed by several rough men, and 
 exclaimed, " 1 advise you, madam, not to go in ; there is 
 going to be trouble." 
 
 " What trouble, sir ? " said she calmly. 
 
 " Two hundred of us," said the leader, " have sworn 
 to tear this man from the desk and plant him in the 
 Jersey marshes." 
 
 " I don't think that will be allowed, sir," she replied. 
 
 " Well, if you have force enough to prevent it, go 
 ahead." 
 
 " I do not say any such thing," she answered ; " but 
 this is not a political meeting. I have come to hear a 
 literary lecture, and I think there will be decent men 
 enough here to check any disturbance." 
 
 The bravery of the woman seemed to abash the crowd. 
 Though some climbed on ladders to the windows of the 
 church and shouted, " Fetch him out ! " they did not 
 attempt to batter down the doors. They threw stones 
 and cursed after the lecture was over, but Phillips was 
 not harmed. 
 
 An attempt was made to mob him in Philadelphia. 
 He wrote to his wife's cousin, Miss Grew, " I have be- 
 come so notorious, that at Albany, Kingston, and Hart- 
 ford the Lyceum could not obtain a church for me ; and 
 the papers riddled me with pellets for a week ; but that 
 saved advertising, and got me larger houses gratis. At 
 Troy they even thought of imitating Staten Island, and 
 getting up a homoeopathic mob, but couldn't." 
 
 Phillips was becoming accustomed to mobs. He had, 
 says Mr. Higginson, "a careless, buoyant, almost patri- 
 cian air, as if nothing in the way of molvviolence were 
 worth considering." Dec. 2, 1860, on the anniversary
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 201 
 
 of John Brown's execution, being debarred from speak- 
 ing in Tremont Temple, a crowded meeting was held 
 in the Belknap-street colored church. The mob de- 
 termined to get him into their hands, says Charles W. 
 Slack, in George Lowell Austin's life of Phillips, and 
 were only prevented " by a cordon of young men, about 
 forty or more in number, who with locked arms and 
 closely compacted bodies, had Phillips in the centre of 
 their circle, and were safely bearing him home." 
 
 On Jan. 24, 1861, the annual meeting of the Mass- 
 achusetts Anti-slavery Society was held in Tremont 
 Temple. Mrs. Lydia Maria Child describes the scene : 
 " Soon the mob began to yell from the galleries. They 
 came tumbling in by hundreds. . . . Such yelling, 
 screeching, and bellowing I never heard. . . . 
 
 "Mr. Phillips stood on the front of the platform for 
 a full hour, trying to be heard whenever the storm lulled 
 a little. They cried, ' Throw him out ! Throw a brick- 
 bat at him ! Your house is afire ; go put out your 
 house ! ' Then they'd sing, with various bellowing and 
 shrieking accompaniments, ' Tell John Andrew, tell John 
 Andrew, John Brown's dead ! ' I should think there 
 were four or five hundred of them. At one time they 
 all rose up, many of them clattered down-stairs, and 
 there was a surging forward toward the platform. My 
 heart beat so fast I could hear it; for I did not then 
 know how Mr. Phillips's armed friends were stationed at 
 every door, and in the middle of the aisle. At last it 
 was announced that the police were coming. Mr. 
 Phillips tried to speak, but his voice was again drowned. 
 Then ... he stepped forward and addressed his speech 
 to the reporters stationed directly below him." 
 
 He said to the reporters the noisy crowd shouted,
 
 202 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 " Speak louder ! We want to hear what you're saying ! " 
 "While I speak to these pencils, I speak to a million 
 of men. What, then, are these boys ? We have got 
 the press of the country in our hands. . . . My voice 
 is beaten by theirs, but they cannot beat types. All 
 hail and glory to Faust, who invented printing, for lie 
 made mobs impossible." Nothing seemed to fire the great 
 orator like opposition. He was the very soul of courage. 
 
 The Civil War had begun. Phillips, Avho had been in 
 favor of disunion, because he and other anti-slavery men 
 and women wished no union with slavery, now that the 
 first shot had been fired on April 12, 18C1, became a 
 firm supporter of the Union. 
 
 He said in his lecture " Under the Flag," delivered in 
 Music Hall, April 21, 1861, and contained in the first 
 volume of his speeches : " The cannon shot against Fort 
 Sumter has opened the only door out of this hour. 
 There were but two. One was compromise; the other 
 was battle. . . . The South opened this with cannon 
 shot, and Lincoln shows himself at the door. The war, 
 then, is not aggressive, but in self-defence, and Washing- 
 ton has become the Thermopylae of liberty and justice. 
 Rather than surrender that capital, cover every square 
 foot of it with a living body ; crowd it witli a million of 
 men, and empty every bank vault at the North to pay 
 the cost. Teach the world once for all, that North 
 America belongs to the Stars and Stripes, and under 
 them no man shall wear a chain." 
 
 The speech was reported for the Boston Journal ; but 
 fearing that the war Democrats would not be pleased, it 
 was suppressed. The friends of Phillips, learning of 
 this, had it printed as an extra, and scattered one 
 hundred thousand copies of it,
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 203 
 
 Through these early years of the war Phillips was 
 urging the arming of the negroes ; and when some white 
 men doubted their courage, he lectured through the land 
 upon Toussaint L'Ouverture, the great leader of Hayti, 
 whom he thus pictures : 
 
 "Of Toussaint, Hermona, the Spanish general, who 
 knew him well, said, ' He was the purest soul God ever 
 put into a body.' Of him history bears witness, ' He 
 never broke his word.' " 
 
 When he was captured by the French and taken to 
 France, "As the island faded from his sight, he turned 
 to the captain and said, ' You think you have rooted up 
 the tree of liberty, but I am only a branch ; I have 
 planted the tree so deep that all France can never root 
 it up.' " 
 
 He was thrown into a stone dungeon, twelve feet by 
 twenty. "This dungeon was a tomb. The story is told 
 that, in Josephine's time, a young French marquis was 
 placed there, and the girl to whom he was betrothed 
 went to the Empress and prayed for his release. Said 
 Josephine to her, ' Have a model of it made and bring 
 it to me.' Josephine placed it near Napoleon. He said, 
 ' Take it away, it is horrible ! ' She put it on his foot- 
 stool, and lie kicked it from him. She held it to him the 
 third time, and said, ' Sire, in this horrible dungeon you 
 have put a man to die.' ' Take him out,' said Napoleon, 
 and the girl saved her lover. 
 
 " In this tomb Toussaint was buried, but he did not 
 die fast enough. Finally the commandant was told to 
 go into Switzerland, to carry the keys of the dungeon 
 with him, and to stay four days ; when he returned, 
 Toussaint was found starved to death. . . . 
 
 " ' No RETALIATION/ was his great motto and the rule
 
 204 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 of his life ; and the last words uttered to his son in 
 France were these, ' My boy, you will one day go back 
 to St. Domingo ; forget that France murdered your 
 father.' " 
 
 Early in 1863 Phillips saw colored troops, the Fifty- 
 fourth and Fifty-fifth Regiments, march through the 
 same street where Garrison had been mobbed and 
 Anthony Burns carried back into slavery by United 
 States troops, singing the John Brown song. Times 
 were indeed changed since Phillips himself was mobbed 
 for suggesting negro soldiers. 
 
 AVhen the war was over, and Abraham Lincoln lay 
 dead, Phillips spoke in Tremont Temple to a hushed 
 and mourning company : " What the world would not 
 look at, God has set to-day in a light so ghastly bright 
 that it dazzles us blind. What we would not believe, 
 God has written all over the face of the continent with 
 the sword's point, in the blood of our best and most 
 beloved. We believe the agony of the slave's hovel, the 
 mother, and the husband, Avhen it takes its seat at our 
 own board. . . . 
 
 " He was permitted himself to deal the last stagger- 
 ing blow which sent rebellion reeling to its grave ; and 
 then, holding his darling boy by the hand, to walk the 
 streets of its surrendered capital, while his ears drank 
 in praise and thanksgiving which bore his name to the 
 throne of God in every form piety and gratitude could 
 invent; and finally to seal the sure triumph of the 
 cause he loved with his own blood. He caught the first 
 notes of the coming jubilee, and heard his own name 
 in every one. Who among living men may not envy 
 him?" 
 
 In the great matters of reconstruction and constitu-
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 205 
 
 tional changes, Phillips took an ardent and helpful part. 
 He criticised sharply, perhaps not always wisely, (for 
 who can be infallible in judgment ?) but he was always 
 earnest and unselfish. When asked to let his name be 
 used for Congress, he refused, preferring to hold no 
 party allegiance where principle was at stake. 
 
 He constantly urged the ballot for the negro. " Re- 
 construct no State," he said, " without giving to every 
 loyal man in it the ballot. I scout all limitations of 
 knowledge, property, or race. Universal suffrage for 
 me ; that was the Revolutionary model. Every freeman 
 voted, black or white, whether he could read or not. 
 My rule is, any citizen liable to be hanged for crime is 
 entitled to vote for rulers. The ballot insures the 
 school." 
 
 When the slavery question was settled, Wendell 
 Phillips could not stop working. He wrote to a meeting 
 of his old abolition comrades, two months before his 
 death, " Let it not be said that the old abolitionist 
 stopped with the negro, and was never able to see that 
 the same principles claimed his utmost effort to protect 
 all labor, white and black, and to further the discussion 
 of every claim of humanity." 
 
 He said to a friend, "Now that the field is won, do 
 you sit by the camp-fire, but I will put out into the 
 underbrush." 
 
 He had for years been a total abstainer, and now more 
 than ever was an earnest advocate of prohibition. In 
 Tremont Temple, Jan. 24, 1881, he reviewed Dr. Crosby's 
 " Calm view of Temperance." 
 
 Phillips stood manfully for the temperance pledge. 
 "We make a pledge by joining a church," he said. 
 " The husband pledges himself to his wife, and she to
 
 206 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 him, for life. Is the marriage ceremony, then, a curse, 
 a hindrance to virtue and progress ? 
 
 " Society rests in all its transactions on the idea that 
 a solemn promise, pledge, assertion, strengthens and 
 assures the act. . . . The witness on the stand gives 
 solemn promise to tell the truth; the officer about to 
 assume place for one year, or ten, or for life, pledges his 
 word and oath ; the grantor in a deed binds himself for 
 all time by record ; churches, societies, universities, ac- 
 cept funds on pledge to appropriate them to certain pur- 
 poses and no other. . . . No man ever denounced these 
 pledges as unmanly. . . . The doctor's principle would 
 unsettle society ; and if one proposed to apply it to any 
 cause but temperance, practical men would quietly put 
 him aside as out of his head." 
 
 Phillips told this story concerning the pledge. A man 
 about sixty came to sit beside him as he was travelling 
 in a railway car. He had heard Phillips lecture on tem- 
 perance the previous evening. " I am master of a ship," 
 said he, " sailing out of New York, and have just re- 
 turned from my fiftieth voyage across the Atlantic. 
 About thirty years ago I was a sot, shipped, while dead 
 drunk, as one of the crew, and was carried on board like 
 a log. When I came to, the captain sent for me. He 
 asked me, ' Do you remember your mother ? ' I told 
 him she died before I could remember anything. ' Well,' 
 said he, ' I am a Vermont man. When I was young I 
 was crazy to go to sea. At last my mother consented 
 I should seek my fortune in New York.' 
 
 " He told how she stood on one side the garden gate 
 and he on the other, when, with his bundle on his arm, 
 he was ready to walk to the next town. She said to 
 him, ' My boy, I don't know anything about towns, and
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 207 
 
 I never saw the sea; but they tell me those great towns 
 are sinks of wickedness, and make thousands of drunk- 
 ards. Now, promise me you'll never drink a drop of 
 liquor.' 
 
 " He said, ' I laid my hand in hers and promised, as I 
 looked into her eyes for the last time. She died soon 
 after. I've been on every sea, and seen the worst kinds 
 of life and men. They laughed at me as a milksop, and 
 wanted to know if I was a coward ; but when they offered 
 me liquor, I saw my mother across the gate, and I never 
 drank a drop. It has been my sheet-anchor. I owe all 
 to that. Would you like to take that pledge ? ' said he." 
 
 He took it. " It has saved me," he said. " I have a 
 fine ship, wife and children at home, and I have helped 
 others." 
 
 Dr. Crosby favored license. Phillips said, " The stat- 
 ute books in forty States are filled with the abortions of 
 thousands of license laws that were never executed, and 
 most of them were never intended to be." 
 
 "No one supposes,'' said Phillips later, "that law can 
 make men temperate. . . . But law can shut up those 
 bars and dram-shops which facilitate and feed intemper- 
 ance, which double our taxes, make our streets unsafe 
 for men of feeble resolution, treble the peril to property 
 and life, and make the masses tools in the hands of de- 
 signing men to undermine and cripple law." 
 
 Phillips also worked untiringly for labor reform. He 
 wrote to Mr. George J. Ilolyoake, in England, " There'll 
 never be, I believe and trust, a class-party here, labor 
 against capital, the lines are so indefinite, like dove's- 
 neck colors. Three-fourths of our population are to 
 some extent capitalists ; and, again, all see that there is 
 really, and ought always to be, alliance, not struggle,
 
 208 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 between them." Again he said, " Capital and labor are 
 only the two arms of a pair of scissors, useless when 
 separate, and only safe when fastened together, cutting 
 everything before them." 
 
 He urged fewer hours for labor, better wages, and 
 united effort among workingmen. He said to them, 
 " Why have you not carried your ends before ? Because 
 in ignorance and division you have let the other side have 
 their own way. We are ruled by brains. . . . You 
 want books and journals. . . . When men have wrongs 
 to complain of they should go to the ballot-box and right 
 them. . . . Men always lose half of what is gained 
 by violence. What is gained by argument is gained 
 forever." 
 
 In an address in 1872 he said to labor, " If you want 
 power in this country, if you want to make yourselves 
 felt, . . . write on your banner, so that every political 
 trimmer can read it, so that every politician, no matter 
 how short-sighted he may be, can read it: 'We never 
 forget! If you launch the arrow of sarcasm at labor, 
 we never forget ; if there is a division in Congress, and 
 you throw your vote in. the wrong scale, we never forget.' " 
 
 Mr. Phillips carried out his ideas of labor under his 
 own roof. So kind and considerate was lie to his ser- 
 vants, that his cook, who was his nurse in childhood, used 
 to leave the door open into the kitchen, that she might 
 hear him pass and repass. She said, " Bless him, there 
 is more music in his footfall than in a cathedral organ ! " 
 
 When she was too old for work, he placed her in a 
 home of her own, and went to see her every Saturday, 
 when possible, with many gifts for her comfort, till she 
 died. He paid the best wages to servants of anybody 
 in the neighborhood. " Good pay, good service," he 
 used to say.
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 209 
 
 He was always generous. One day on the cars he met 
 a woman thinly clad, a lecturer from the South, a niece 
 of Jefferson Davis, as he afterwards learned. She had 
 received five dollars for her work. Mr. Phillips said, 
 " I don't want to give offence, but you know I preach 
 that a woman is entitled to the same as a man if she 
 does the same work. Now, rny price is fifty or a hun- 
 dred dollars ; and, if you will let me divide it with you, 
 I shall not have had any more than you, and the thing 
 will be even." 
 
 The lady at first refused, but was persuaded to take 
 it. When she reached home she found there were fifty 
 dollars all he had received for his lecture at Gloucester. 
 
 In 1870 Phillips accepted the nomination for the gov- 
 ernorship of Massachusetts from the prohibition and 
 the labor parties, though he said, and undoubtedly with 
 truth, that he had no desire to be governor. He received 
 over twenty thousand votes. 
 
 When blamed because he favored General Butler for 
 governor, he replied that he did not know a man among 
 all the candidates whom he would make a saint of. 
 " The difficulty is," said he, with his natural love of 
 humor, " saints do not com.e very often ; and, when they 
 do, it is the hardest thing in the world to get them into 
 politics." 
 
 When Andrew Johnson was not impeached, as Phillips 
 hoped he would be, he used to say, " Congress has de- 
 posed him without impeachment. ' Friend, I'll not shoot 
 thee,' said the Quaker to the footpad, 'but I'll hold thy 
 head in the water until thee drown thyself.' The Re- 
 publican party has taken a leaf out of that scrupulous 
 Christian's book." 
 
 Phillips was a Protectionist. In early life he was a
 
 210 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 free-trader, but changed his views. " Under free trade," 
 he said, " our country would be wholly agricultural. . . . 
 Should we lose our diversified occupations, we would 
 suffer a great loss, though there might be a pecuniary 
 gain. ... If all the world were under one law, and 
 every man raised to the level of the Sermon on the 
 Mount, free trade would be so easy and charming ! But 
 while nations study only how to cripple their enemies, 
 that is, their neighbors, and while each trader strives 
 to cheat his customer, and strangle the firm on the 
 other side of the street, we must not expect the mil- 
 lennium." 
 
 He smiled at the "shoals of college-boys, slenderly 
 furnished with Greek and Latin, but steeped in marvel- 
 lous and delightful ignorance of life and public affairs, 
 filling the country with free-trade din." 
 
 Phillips pleaded the cause of the Irish in his wonder- 
 ful lecture on Daniel O'Connell. He was also the friend 
 and advocate of the Indian. 
 
 He opposed capital punishment, because he thought the 
 old Testament law about which scholars disagree 
 was no more binding upon us than scores of others given 
 to the Jews about " abstaining from meats offered to 
 idols, and from blood and from things strangled," etc. 
 Once men were hanged in England for stealing a shil- 
 ling. We are gradually learning that reform is what 
 society needs not revenge. 
 
 Mr. Phillips spoke on finance before the American 
 Social Science Association. His plan was, says Austin: 
 "Take from the national banks all right to issue bills; 
 let the nation itself supply a currency ample for all pub- 
 lic needs ; reduce the rate of interest." 
 
 In the summer of 1880 Mr. Phillips and his wife
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 211 
 
 spent some time at Princeton, Mass. He was then sixty- 
 nine years old. He wrote a friend : " I laze and ride on 
 horseback, exploring the drives. . . . The rest of the 
 time I sleep. I weigh a hundred and seventy -five pounds, 
 and don't feel as old as I am." 
 
 To another friend he wrote of the extreme stillness of 
 the place : " A passer-by is an event. The only noise 
 ever made is by the hens. The only thing that ever 
 happens is when we miss the cat. But we always keep 
 awake at the sunsets, they are splendid."' 
 
 The next year, June 30, 1881, he was asked to give 
 the address at Harvard College, on the Centennial Anni- 
 versary of the Phi Beta Kappa. His subject was " The 
 Scholar in a Republic.'' 
 
 " It was," says Thomas Wentworth Higginson, " the 
 tardy recognition of him by his own college and his own 
 literary society, and proved to be, in some respects, the 
 most remarkable effort of his life. He never seemed 
 more at his ease, more colloquial and more extemporane- 
 ous ; and he held an unwilling audience spellbound, 
 while bating absolutely nothing of his radicalism." 
 
 He pleaded for the great reforms for which he had la- 
 bored all his life. " The fathers," he said, " touched their 
 highest level when, with stout-hearted and serene faith, 
 they trusted God that it was safe to leave men with all 
 the rights he gave them. Let us be worthy of their 
 blood, and save this sheet-anchor of the race, universal 
 suffrage, God's church, God's school, God's method of 
 gently binding men into commonwealths in order that 
 they may at last melt into brothers. . . . 
 
 "These agitations are the opportunities and the means 
 God offers ns to refine the taste, mould the character, 
 lift the pin-pose, and educate the moral sense of the
 
 212 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 masses, on whose intelligence and self-respect rests the 
 State. God furnishes these texts. He gathers for us 
 this audience, and only asks of our coward lips to preach 
 the sermons. . . . 
 
 " If in this critical battle for universal suffrage . . . 
 there be any weapon, which, once taken from the armory, 
 will make victory certain, it will be, as it has been in 
 art, literature, and society, summoning woman into the 
 political arena. . . . The literary class, until half a 
 dozen years, has taken note of this great uprising only to 
 fling every obstacle in its way. 
 
 " The first glimpse we get of Saxon blood in history 
 is that line of Tacitus in his 'Germany,' which reads, 
 'In all grave matters they consult their women.' 
 Years hence, when robust Saxon sense has flung away 
 Jewish superstition and Eastern prejudice, and put 
 under its foot fastidious scholarship and squeamish fash- 
 ion, some second Tacitus, from the Valley of the Missis- 
 sippi, will answer to him of the Seven Hills, 'In all 
 grave questions we consult our women.' . . . 
 
 " To be as good as our fathers we must be better. . . . 
 With serene faith they persevered. Let us rise to their 
 level. Crush appetite and prohibit temptation if it rots 
 great cities." 
 
 In the winter of 1882 he made his last lecture tour, 
 when he was seventy-one. He had the same noble pres- 
 ence, the same exquisitely toned voice which began his 
 speech as in ordinary conversation, the same calm self- 
 poised manner, as in middle life. The eyes were blue 
 and small, the smile sweet, the figure straight, the whole 
 bearing one of perfect mastery of both self and audi- 
 ence. I have heard, " his attitude was a study for the 
 sculptor yet unconscious and natural," truly says Mr.
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 213 
 
 Martyn. " The weight of the body was usually sup- 
 ported upon the left foot, with the right slightly ad- 
 vanced at an easy angle an attitude of combined 
 firmness and repose." 
 
 His speeches were never written out. He disliked 
 writing, and thought it "a mild form of slavery a man 
 chained to an ink-pot." He said, "The chief thing I 
 aim at is to master my subject. Then I earnestly try to 
 get the audience to think as I do." 
 
 He once wrote a young man, who had asked him about 
 public speaking : " I think practice with all kinds of 
 audiences the best of teachers. Think out your subject 
 carefully. Read all you can relative to the themes you 
 touch. Fill your mind ; and then talk simply and natu- 
 rally. Forget altogether that you are to make a speech 
 or are making one. . . . Remember to talk up to an 
 audience, not down to it. The commonest audience can 
 relish the best thing you can say if you say it properly. 
 Be simple, be earnest." 
 
 " He faced his audience," says Curtis, " with a tranquil 
 mien, and a beaming aspect that was never dimmed. He 
 spoke, and in the measured cadence of his quiet voice 
 there was intense feeling, but no declamation, no pas- 
 sionate appeal, no superficial and feigned emotion. It 
 was simply colloquy a gentleman conversing. Un- 
 consciously and surely the ear and heart were charmed. 
 
 "How was it done? Ah! how did Mozart do it, how 
 Raphael ? The secret of the rose's sweetness, of the 
 bird's ecstasy, of the sunset's glory that is the secret 
 of genius and of eloquence." 
 
 Phillips's habit in travelling was to carry a large shawl, 
 which he always spread between the sheets of his bed in 
 the various hotels, to prevent a cold ; an example to other
 
 214 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 speakers. His supper before an address was usually, it 
 is said, three raw eggs and a cup of tea. 
 
 Mr. Phillips had already moved his home from 26 
 Essex Street, in the spring of 1881, to No. 37 Common 
 Street, not far away, as his home had to be torn 
 down for the widening of the street. It was a severe 
 trial to both, but it did not remain their earthly home 
 for long. 
 
 Mr. Phillips made his last public address at the un- 
 veiling of Anne Whitney's statue of Harriet Martineau 
 at the " Old South " Church, Boston, Dec. 26, 1883. 
 
 His wife was seriously ill through January, and he 
 watched most devotedly by her bedside. On the 26th of 
 the month he was taken ill with angina pectoris. He 
 felt that the end was near. He said, " I have no fear of 
 death. I have long foreseen it. My only regret is for 
 poor Ann. I had hoped to close her eyes before mine 
 were shut." To a friend who spoke to him of his al- 
 ways expressed belief in the divinity of Christ, though 
 many of his friends were Unitarian, he said, quoting the 
 words of an eminent Semitic scholar : " I find the whole 
 history of humanity before him and after him points 
 to him, and finds in him its centre and its solution. 
 His whole conduct, his deeds, his words, have a super- 
 natural character, being altogether inexplicable from 
 human relations and human means. I feel that here 
 there is something more than man." 
 
 " Then you have no doubt about a future life ? " said 
 the friend. 
 
 " I am as sure of it as I am that there will be a to- 
 morrow," was the reply. 
 
 On Saturday evening, Feb. 2, 1884, at fifteen minutes 
 past six, he closed his eyes calmly and quietly forever.
 
 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 215 
 
 All Boston, all America, was moved at the death of the 
 great leader patrician born, yet the people's advocate. 
 The funeral was held at eleven o'clock Wednesday, 
 Feb. 6, at Hollis-street Church, and then the body was 
 borne to Faneuil Hall, two colored companies forming a 
 guard of honor. 
 
 There, where he had won his first fame in youth at 
 the Lovejoy meeting, where he had stirred the whole 
 land by his eloquence in the cause of the oppressed, it 
 was fitting he should sleep at last. 
 
 The Irish National League of Boston sent a mound of 
 flowers, three feet by four, with the word " Humanity " 
 in the centre, in violets on a bed of carnations. The 
 Irish-American Societies of Boston sent a harp four feet 
 high of ivy leaves and japonicas, with the word " Ireland" 
 in the centre. One of the harp strings was broken. 
 Others sent a sheaf of ripened wheat, a crown of ivy and 
 roses, and a wreath of laurel. 
 
 From one o'clock till four, thousands passed the form 
 of their beloved dead ; rich and poor, Irish and Ameri- 
 can, black and white, children and adults. One old 
 colored woman, with tears flowing down her cheeks, 
 said, " Our Wendell Philips has gone." Another said, 
 " He was de bes' fren' we ever lied, ^'e owes him a 
 heap ! " 
 
 Frederick Douglass looked on in sorrow. " I wanted 
 to see this throng," he said, " and to see the hold that 
 this man had upon the community. It is a wonderful 
 tribute." 
 
 Thousands were unable to enter Faneuil Hall, and 
 filled every available inch of space in the street, and 
 windows and balconies of buildings. A vast crowd 
 followed up State Street to Washington, up School to
 
 216 WENDELL PHILLIPS. 
 
 Tremont, to the old Granary burying-ground, where the 
 body was laid in the family vault. 
 
 Mrs. Phillips died Saturday, April 24, 1886, two years 
 after her husband. She had been closely confined to her 
 home for the greater part of fifty years. " She lay as if 
 asleep," says Francis J. Garrison, " with all the purity 
 and guilelessness of her youthful face ripened into ma- 
 turity. It seemed transfiguration." 
 
 The body of Wendell Phillips was carried with that of 
 his wife to Milton, a beautiful suburb where they had 
 often spent their summers ; and both were buried in the 
 same grave, side by side, in a loj; which he had pur- 
 chased a year or two before his death. A noble pine- 
 tree stands near the spot. On a plain slab at the 
 head of the grave are the words, " Ann and Wendell 
 Phillips."
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 " THE most brilliant and fertile pulpit-genius of the 
 nineteenth century, and the most widely influential 
 American of his time," says John Henry Barrows in his 
 masterly life of Henry Ward Beecher. " To the sensi- 
 tive heart of a woman, he added a lion-like courage, and 
 a Miltonic loftiness of spirit. To the more than royal 
 imagination of Jeremy Taylor, he added a zeal as warm 
 as Whitetield's. In him the wit of Sydney Smith was 
 combined with the common-sense of John Bunyan. 
 
 " In the annals of oratory his place is near that of 
 Demosthenes. Among reformers he need fear no com- 
 parison with Wendell Phillips, John Bright, Mazzini, or 
 Charles Sumner. In moral genius for statesmanship he 
 was the brother of Abraham Lincoln ; and, in the annals 
 of the pulpit, he can only be mentioned with the greatest 
 names, Chrysostom, Bernard, Luther, Wesley, Chal- 
 mers, Spurgeon." 
 
 Dr. Mark Hopkins, in Edward W. Bok's "Memorial 
 Volume," said of Henry Ward Beecher's forty years in 
 Plymouth pulpit, "No such instance of prolonged, steady 
 power at one point, in connection witli other labors so 
 extended and diversified, and magnificent in their results, 
 has ever been known." 
 
 Dr. Thomas Arinitage of the Fifth-avenue Baptist 
 Church, New York, his life-long friend, gave Beecher 
 
 217
 
 218 11ENRY WARD BE EC 11 ER. 
 
 u the first place among the preachers of the world to- 
 day." Dr. Robert Collyer said, "To my mind, he was 
 the greatest preacher on this planet. . . . Men will be 
 his debtors for ages to come." 
 
 June 24, 1891, the statue of this great American leader, 
 by John Quincy Adams Ward, was unveiled in front of 
 Brooklyn City Hall. Three hundred children from Plym- 
 outh Church Sunday-school sang his favorite hymn, 
 
 " Love divine, all love excelling," 
 
 accompanied by the band of the Thirteenth Regiment. 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher, the son of the Rev. Lyman 
 Beecher and Roxana Foote, was born in Litchfield, 
 Conn., June 24, 1813. The father was an eloquent, 
 fearless, great-hearted man, the son and grandson of a 
 sturdy blacksmith ; the mother a refined, dignified, intel- 
 lectual, beautiful, and superior woman. Her family 
 connections were of the best in New England. Her 
 ancestor, James Foote, an English officer, aided Charles 
 II. of England to hide himself in the Royal Oak which 
 grew in a field of clover, and for this was knighted ; 
 the family coat-of-arms bearing an oak for its crest with 
 a clover-leaf in its quarterings. 
 
 Roxana, the granddaughter of General Ward of Revo- 
 lutionary fame, was remarkably well educated for the 
 times. She was versed in literature and history, which 
 she studied while she spun flax, tying her books to the 
 distaff, no wonder that her great son was an omniver- 
 ous reader, she wrote and spoke the French language 
 fluently, drew with the pencil, and painted with the 
 brush on ivory, sang and played on the guitar, and was 
 an expert with her needle.
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER.
 
 HENRY WARD B EEC HER. 219 
 
 After her marriage with Mr. Beecher, she opened a 
 school for girls in their parish at East Hampton, Long 
 Island, to eke out a living on their four hundred dollars 
 salary. From here they were called in 1810, eleven 
 years after their marriage, to the hilly, lonely town of 
 Litchtield, Conn., bringing their six little children with 
 them. 
 
 Henry Ward was the ninth child, the eighth then 
 living. 
 
 So many cares and privations broke down the beauti- 
 ful mother, who died when Henry was three years 
 old. 
 
 A friend of the family writes : " She told her husband 
 that her views and anticipations of heaven had been so 
 great that she could hardly sustain it, and if they had 
 been increased she should have been overwhelmed, and 
 that her Saviour had constantly blessed her ; that she 
 had peace without one cloud, and that she had never 
 during her sickness prayed for life. She dedicated her 
 sons to God for missionaries, and said that her greatest 
 desire was that her children might be trained up for 
 God. . . . 
 
 "She attempted to speak to her children ; but she was 
 extremely exhausted, and their cries and sobs were such 
 that she could say but little. She told them that God 
 could do more for them than she had done or could do, 
 and that they must trust him." 
 
 After Lyman Beecher had prayed, " she fell into a 
 sweet sleep from which she awoke in heaven. It is a 
 moving scene to see eight little children weeping around 
 the bed of a dying mother." 
 
 " They told us," says Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, " at 
 one time that she had been laid in the ground, at another
 
 220 UENRY WARD BEEC11ER. 
 
 that she had gone to heaven. Whereupon Henry, putting 
 the two things together, resolved to dig through the 
 ground and go to find her; for being discovered under 
 sister Catherine's window one morning digging with 
 great zeal and earnestness, she called to him to know 
 what he was doing, and, lifting his curly head, witli 
 great simplicity he answered, 'Why, I am going to 
 heaven to find ma ! ' ' 
 
 The benign influence of this lovely mother was never 
 forgotten by Henry Ward Beecher. He said : " I have 
 only such a remembrance of her as you have of the 
 clouds of ten years ago, faint, evanescent, and yet, caught 
 by imagination and fed by that which I have heard of 
 her, and by what my father's thought and feeling of her 
 were, it has come to be so much to me that no devout 
 Catholic ever saw so much in the Virgin Mary as I have 
 seen in my mother, who has been a presence to me ever 
 since I can remember. . . . Do you know why so often 
 I speak what must seem to some of you rhapsody of 
 woman ? It is because I had a mother, and if I were to 
 live a thousand years I could not express what seems 
 to me to be the least that I owe to her. . . . 
 
 " She has been part and parcel of my upper life a 
 star whose parallax I could not take, but nevertheless, 
 shining from afar, she has been the light that lit me 
 easier into the thought of the invisible and the presence 
 of the Divine." 
 
 Again her distinguished son wrote : " There are few 
 born into this world that are her equals. She was 
 a woman of extraordinary graces and gifts; a woman 
 not demonstrative, with a profound philosophical nature, 
 of a wonderful depth of affection, and with a serenity 
 that was simply charming. From her I received my love
 
 HENRY WARD BEECIIER. 221 
 
 of the beautiful, my poetic temperament ; from her also 
 I received simplicity and childlike faith in God." 
 
 When Henry Ward was eighteen, he found some 
 letters of his mother to his father. He wrote in his 
 diary : " my mother ! I could not help kissing the 
 letters. I looked at the paper and thought that her 
 hand had rested upon it while writing it. The hand of 
 my mother ! She had formed every letter which I saw. 
 She had looked upon that paper which I now looked 
 upon. She had folded it. She had sent it." 
 
 The Rev. Lyman Beecher said of her, " I never heard 
 a murmur, ... I never witnessed a movement of the 
 least degree of selfishness ; and if there ever was any 
 such thing in the world as disinterestedness, she had it." 
 
 Henry Ward repeats this incident told him by his 
 father : " One day, being much annoyed by some hogs 
 that kept getting into his garden, he seized his gun and 
 rushed to the door. My mother anxiously followed, and 
 cried, ' father, don't shoot the poor things ! ' He 
 flashed back at her, ' Woman, go into the house ! ' and 
 when he was telling me of it years afterwards he said : 
 ( Without a word or look she turned, quietly, majestic- 
 ally, and went in but she didn't get in before I did. 
 I threw my arms around her in an agony of self-reproach, 
 and cried " Forgive me, oh, forgive me ! " She uttered no 
 word, but she looked at me like a queen and smiled 
 and kissed my face ; my passion was gone, and my 
 offence forgiven.' Up to the last of his life he never 
 spoke of her but with intensest admiration and loving 
 remembrance." 
 
 About a year after Roxana's death, Dr. Lyman Beecher 
 found an estimable woman willing to be a mother to the 
 eight motherless children, and to take summer boarders
 
 222 HENRY WARD SEECHER. 
 
 to help support the family, whose income was eight hun- 
 dred dollars a year. She must have been a woman of 
 great self-sacrifice. 
 
 Young Henry thought her saintly, but cold. "Al- 
 though I was longing to love somebody," he writes, " she 
 did not call forth my affection ; and my father was too 
 busy to be loved. Therefore I had to expend my love 
 on Aunt Chandler, a kind soul that was connected with 
 our family, and the black woman that cooked, who was 
 very kind to me. My mother that brought me up I 
 never thought of loving. I revered her, but I was not 
 attracted to her. ... I knew that about twilight she 
 prayed ; and I had a great shrinking from going past her 
 door at the time. I had not the slightest doubt that 
 she had set her affections on things above, and not on 
 things beneath." 
 
 At four years of age Henry went to Ma'am Kilbourn's 
 school, where he repeated his letters twice a day, and 
 later to the district school, for which he had in those 
 days no affection. "In winter," he says, "we were 
 squeezed into the recess of the farthest corner, among 
 little boys, who seemed to be sent to school to fill up the 
 chinks between the bigger boys. We were read and 
 spelt twice a day, unless something happened to prevent, 
 which did happen about every other day. For the rest 
 of the time we were busy in keeping still. 
 
 "And a time we always had of it. Our shoes always 
 would be scraping on the floor or knocking the shins of 
 urchins who were also being educated. All our little 
 legs together (poor, tired, nervous, restless legs with 
 nothing to do !) would fill up the corner with such a 
 noise that, every ten or fifteen minutes, the master 
 ivould bring down his two-foot hickory ferule on the
 
 HENRY WARD BEECIIER. 223 
 
 desk with a clap that sent shivers through our breasts to 
 think how that would have felt if it had fallen some- 
 where else ; and then with a look that swept us all into 
 utter extremity of stillness, he would cry, ' Silence in 
 that corner ! ' . . . 
 
 " Besides this our principal business was to shake and 
 shiver at the beginning of the, school for very cold ; and 
 to sweat and stew for the rest of the time before the fer- 
 vid glances of a great iron box stove, red-hot." Those of 
 us who have attended district schools in New England 
 will recognize the truthfulness of the picture. 
 
 Henry longed for birds and flowers and books, as in- 
 deed he did all through college, and was ever a deeper 
 student of nature than of books. And yet in after years 
 he was glad for some of these school experiences. " I 
 am thankful," he says, " that I learned to hem towels 
 as I did. I know how to knit suspenders and mittens. 
 I know a good deal about working in wood-sawing, chop- 
 ping, splitting, planing, and things of that sort. I was 
 brought up to put my hand to anything ; so that when I 
 went West, and was travelling on the prairies and my 
 horse lost a shoe, and I came to a cross-road where there 
 was an abandoned blacksmith's shop, I could go in and 
 start the fire, and fix the old shoe and put it on again. 
 What man has done man can do ; and it is a good thing 
 to bring up boys so that they shall think they can do 
 anything. I could do anything.'' 
 
 The lad was sensitive to praise or blame, and extremely 
 diffident. "To walk into a room where 'company ' was 
 assembled, and to do it erect and naturally, was as im- 
 possible as it would have been to fly. . . . Our back- 
 bone grew soft, our knees lost their stiffness, the blood 
 rushed to the head, and the sight almost left our eyes.
 
 224 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 We have known something of pain in after years, but 
 few pangs have been more acute than some sufferings 
 from bashfulness in our earlier years." 
 
 Mr. Beecher felt all through his life that he owed 
 much to a colored man, Charles Smith, who worked on 
 his father's farm when he was a boy. "He used to lie 
 upon his humble bed," says Mr. Beecher, "(I slept in 
 the same room with him) and read his Testament, un- 
 conscious, apparently, that I was in the room. ... I 
 never had heard the Bible really read before ; but there, 
 in my presence, he read it, and talked about it to him- 
 self and to God. . . . He talked to me about my soul 
 more than any member of my father's family." 
 
 Henry was taken to Bethlehem, seven miles from 
 Litchfield, to the school of the Rev. Mr. Langdon ; but he 
 seems here also to have loved the woods and flowers so 
 much better than books, that he was finally sent to Hart- 
 ford to the care of his sister Catherine, Avho taught a 
 school for young ladies. Though a favorite on account 
 of his sunny disposition, he proved a poor scholar, 
 and was sent home at the end of six months. When the 
 boy was thirteen, Dr. Lyman Beecher moved with his 
 family to Boston, having been called to the pastorate of 
 the Hanover-street Congregational Church at the North 
 End. 
 
 Here he loved Christ Church chimes, listened to their 
 music " with a pleasure and amazement," he says. " which 
 I fear nothing will ever give me again till I hear the 
 bells ring out wondrous tilings in the Ne\v Jerusalem," 
 and studied ships as he strolled along the docks, or 
 lingered in Charlestown Navy Yard. 
 
 At the latter place he stole a six-poimd shot, and not 
 knowing how to get it home unobserved, carried it rolled
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 225 
 
 in a handkerchief on the top of his head under his hat. 
 With the greatest difficulty he brought it home, and 
 then did not know what to do with it, not daring to show 
 it, nor tell where he got it. 
 
 "But after all," he says, "that six-pounder rolled a 
 good deal of sense into my skull. I think it was the 
 last thing I ever stole ; and it gave me a notion of the 
 folly of coveting more than you can enjoy, which has 
 made my whole life happier." 
 
 The boy who had so loved the country among the hills 
 of Connecticut, became gloomy and restless shut in by 
 the treeless city. His father gave him the lives of 
 Nelson and Captain Cook to read, and the lad resolved 
 to go to sea. He could not bring himself to run away 
 without telling his father, which he did. With rare tact 
 Dr. Beecher replied that Henry would not wish to be an 
 ordinary sailor. 
 
 " No," said the boy. " I want to be a midshipman, 
 and after that a commodore." 
 
 " I see," said the father ; " and in order for that yon 
 must begin a course of mathematics and study naviga- 
 tion. ... I will send you up to Amherst next week, 
 to Mount Pleasant, and there you'll begin your prepara- 
 tory studies, and if you are well prepared I presume I 
 can make interest to get you an appointment." 
 
 At fourteen the lad entered Mount Pleasant Institute, 
 the father hoping and praying that his boy "would be in 
 the ministry yet." 
 
 With Lord Nelson and other great commanders in 
 mind, he determined to master his studies and be some- 
 body. Hard mathematics became easier, and he liked 
 the drill in elocution. He enjoyed sport among the 
 boys, and the semi-military methods of the school, but
 
 226 HENRY WARD BE EC HER. 
 
 best of all he liked spending liis play-hours in caring for 
 beds of pansies and asters. 
 
 During a revival at Mount Pleasant, Henry was much 
 moved, and wrote to his father, who advised his coming 
 home to join the church. He did so, though he felt 
 afterwards that the change in his life was not as thor- 
 ough as he could have wished. However, it obliterated 
 the desire of being a sailor, and turned his thoughts 
 toward the ministry. 
 
 When he was seventeen, in 1830, he entered Amherst 
 College. The great beauty of the scenery always had 
 for him an especial charm. " I used to look across the 
 beautiful Connecticut lliver valley, and at the blue 
 mountains that hedged it in, until my heart swelled and 
 my eyes filled with tears." 
 
 In college he was fond of athletic sports, ready in wit, 
 beginning to show his eloquence in debate, an ardent 
 temperance advocate, a lover of rhetoric, botany, and 
 geology, and a warm friend to his classmates. He cared 
 little for the classics ; but he read much, especially the 
 old English authors, Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, and 
 others. 
 
 Dr. Roswell D. Hitchcock, who was at Amherst with 
 young Beecher, says, " He was by all odds the best 
 debater of his college generation. I should be glad to 
 know how he acquired his mastery of the English lan- 
 guage. . . . The four books which probably helped him 
 most were the Bible, Shakespeare, Milton's ' Paradise 
 Lost,' and Bunyan's 'Pilgrim's Progress.' " 
 
 " He was," said Dr. John Haven, a classmate, " a 
 great reader, and probably had more general knowledge 
 than any one of his classmates when he graduated." 
 
 He necessarily used the greatest economy in college,
 
 HENRY WARD BEECIIER. 227 
 
 his board costing him but one dollar and fifty cents a 
 week, a mile from college grounds ; and when vacation 
 came he walked more than a hundred miles to Boston, 
 because he had no money to pay the stage-coach fare. 
 
 Charles Beecher, the youngest of Roxana's children, 
 was in college with his brother Henry. Dr. Beecher 
 became so straitened in money matters that it seemed 
 probable that the sons must leave college. He and his 
 wife talked the matter over till finally he said, "Well, 
 the Lord always has taken care of me, and I am sure he 
 always will." The mother lay awake after she had gone 
 to bed, and cried over it ; evidently she was not as cold 
 at heart as the young Henry Ward thought. 
 
 The next morning was the Sabbath. The door-bell 
 rang, and a one hundred dollar bill was handed in from 
 Mr. Homes, as a thank-offering for the conversion of one 
 of his children. The way was now opened for the boys 
 to continue their college course. 
 
 After Henry had been at Amherst less than a year, in 
 the spring vacation of 1831, he and another student 
 walked fifty miles to the home of a classmate, and there 
 fell in love with the sister of the latter, Eunice White 
 Bullard, daughter of Dr. Artemas Bullard of West Sut- 
 ton, Mass. 
 
 " After our outside work was done," writes Mrs. Beecher, 
 years later, " mother and I took knitting and sewing and 
 sat down with them. I was going to wind a skein of 
 sewing-silk (that was before spools were common), and, 
 as was my custom, put it over the back of a chair. More 
 gallant and thoughtful, apparently, than his older com- 
 panions, this young gentleman insisted upon holding it 
 for me to wind. For some reason perfwily unaccount- 
 able, if one judged only by his quiet, innocent face, with-
 
 228 HENRY WARD HEECHER. 
 
 out watching the eyes and mouth that skein became 
 as intricately tangled as if tied by Macbeth's witches. 
 
 " < A badly tangled skein is it not ? ' said he, when I 
 had lost half my evening in getting it wound. 
 
 " ' Rather more troublesome, I imagine, than if I had 
 kept it on the chair,' I replied. ' It was a good trial of 
 patience, anyhow/ was his response to the laugh that 
 followed." 
 
 The students remained for several days, and had a 
 merry time. One day, after some pies had been taken 
 out of the old-fashioned brick oven, a few ashes falling 
 upon one, the mother asked Eunice to get them off. 
 Henry offered to help, and respectfully taking the pie 
 from her hands carried it into the garden, where he and 
 his two other college friends ate it up. " There, we have 
 cleared the plate nicely," said Henry Ward, as he handed 
 it back to the mother. 
 
 Dr. Bullard said of young Beecher, " He's smart. If 
 he lives, he'll make his mark in the world." 
 
 The next winter, January, 1832, Henry Ward taught 
 school near the town where Eunice was teaching. He 
 asked, "'If she would go to the West with him as a mis- 
 sionary ? " and Avas referred to her parents. Mrs. Bul- 
 lard was grieved ; but Dr. Bullard was angry, and said, 
 " Why, you are a couple of babies. You don't know 
 your own minds yet, and won't for some years to come." 
 Young Beecher was a little over eighteen, and Miss 
 Bullard ten months older. 
 
 About this time Henry earned five dollars for giving a 
 temperance lecture, using the money to buy for his future 
 wife the unusual love-gift of Baxter's " Saints' Rest." 
 
 Soon after, he walked to Brattleborough, Vt., fifty 
 miles each way, gave a lecture, for which he received
 
 HENRY WARD E EEC HER. 229 
 
 ten dollars, and with a part of the money bought an 
 engagement-ring for Miss Bullard, which was also her 
 wedding-ring, and with the rest the works of Edmund 
 Burke. 
 
 This money gave him great satisfaction. " Oh, that 
 bill ! " he says. " How it warmed me and invigorated 
 me ! I looked at it before going to sleep ; I examined 
 my pocket the next morning, to be sure that I had not 
 dreamed it. How I pitied the poor students, who had 
 not, I well knew, ten dollars in their pockets. Still, I 
 tried to keep down pride in its offensive forms. I would 
 not be lifted up." 
 
 After he had bought the books, he says, " I was a man 
 that owned a library ! I became conservative and frugal. 
 Before, I had spent at least a dollar and a half a year 
 for knickknacks; but, after I had founded a library, I 
 reformed all such wastes, and every penny I could raise 
 or save I compelled to transform itself into books ! " 
 When he graduated, he owned about fifty volumes. 
 
 Dr. Lyman Beecher having left Boston to become the 
 President of Lane Theological Seminary at Cincinnati, 
 Ohio, Henry and Charles went thither to study theology. 
 The three years spent there were full of pathetic, and 
 sometimes comic, incidents. In this, at that time far 
 West, the fences were poor, and cattle were apt to stray 
 at Avill over flower-beds and across the gardens. One 
 day Henry found a strange cow lying down on the barn 
 floor. He quickly drove her out, chased her down the 
 street, and, hot and tired, came to the house and threw 
 himself on the sofa. 
 
 " There, I guess I have taught one old cow to know 
 where she belongs," he remarked to his father. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said the doctor, growing ex-
 
 230 HENRY WARD BEECHES. 
 
 cited. " Well, you have done it. I have just bought 
 that cow, and had to wade the Ohio River twice to get 
 her home ; and, after I have got her safely into the barn, 
 you have turned her out. You have done it, and no mis- 
 take." And the cow was vigorously hunted up. 
 
 During all these years affectionate letters were sent to 
 Eunice Bullard. " What a noble creation E - is," 
 young Beecher writes in his journal. " I could have 
 looked through ten thousand and never found one 
 so every way suited to me. How dearly -do I love 
 her ! " 
 
 Some of this time was darkened by doubt and disbe- 
 lief ; but, like John Bunyan, after about two years of 
 unsettled condition of mind, peace was assured. "It 
 came to me," he says, " like the bursting of spring. It 
 was as if yesterday there was not a bird to be seen or 
 heard, and as if to-day the woods were full of singing 
 birds. There rose up before me a view of Jesus as the 
 Saviour of sinners, not of saints, but of sinners uncon- 
 verted, before they were any better, because they were 
 so bad and needed so much ; and that view has never 
 gone from me. . . . Never for a single moment have I 
 doubted the power of Christ's love to save me, any more 
 than I have doubted the existence in the heaven of the 
 sun by day and the moon by night." 
 
 The second Mrs. Beecher had died, triumphing in her 
 faith. Dr. Beecher, tried for heresy, was fighting theo- 
 logical battles, which his son Henry learned to abhor. 
 
 "I see no benefit in a controversy," he wrote. "It 
 will be a fierce technical dispute about propositions, at 
 the expense in the churches of vital godliness. . . . 
 Others may blow the bellows, and turn the doctrines in 
 the fire ? and lay them on the anvil of controversy, and
 
 HENRY WARD V EEC HER. 231 
 
 beat them with all sorts of hammers into all sorts of 
 shapes; but I shall busy myself with using the sword 
 of the Lord, not va. forging it." 
 
 Pro-slavery riots had begun, and the printing-press of 
 James G. Birney was destroyed by a mob of Kentucky 
 slaveholders. Young Beecher was sworn in as a special 
 constable, and for several nights, well armed, patrolled 
 the streets with others, to protect the colored people. 
 He was learning bravery early, and he had need of it 
 through life. 
 
 Mr. Beecher graduated in 1837 from Lane Seminary, 
 and through the influence of a Yankee woman, Martha 
 Sawyer, was asked to go to Lawrenceburg, Ind., to 
 preach. " There was a church in that place," says Mr. 
 Beecher, " composed of about twenty members, of which 
 she was the factotum. She collected the money, she 
 was the treasurer, she Avas the manager, she was the 
 trustee, she was the everything of that church." 
 
 There were about fifteen hundred persons in the little 
 town, situated at the jmiction of the Ohio and Miami 
 Rivers. There were four big distilleries in the place, 
 and a steamboat load of liquor was carried away from 
 it every day. 
 
 " When I went there and entered upon my vocation of 
 preaching," says Mr. Beecher, u I found a church, occu- 
 pying a little brick building, with nineteen or twenty 
 members. There was one man, and the rest were women. 
 With the exception of two persons, there was not one of 
 them who was not obliged to gain a livelihood by the. 
 labor of the hands. So you will understand how very 
 poor they were. . . . 
 
 {; I was sexton in the church. There were no lamps 
 there, so I went and bought some and rilled them and lit
 
 232 HENRY WARD BEECH ER. 
 
 them. I swept the church, and lighted my own fires. I 
 did not ring the bell because there was none. I opened 
 the church before every meeting, and shut and locked it 
 after every meeting. I took care of everything in the 
 church." 
 
 The salary was to be $300 it was raised from 
 $250 of which the Home Missionary Society was to 
 give $150. 
 
 His friends in Cincinnati opposed his going to so small 
 a field ; but he carried out the advice which he gave 
 years afterward to theological students : " Don't hang 
 round idle, waiting for a good offer. Enter the first 
 field God opens for you. If he needs you in a larger 
 one, he will open the gate for you to enter." 
 
 Young Beecher, having waited nearly seven years to 
 claim his bride, he was now but twenty -four, wrote 
 to Miss Bullard that lie would be ready for the marriage 
 Aug. 3. Arriving at her home on the evening of July 
 29, he picked over and stoned with her the raisins for 
 the wedding-cake, beat the eggs, and in every way helped 
 on the joyful event. At the hour chosen for the cere- 
 mony, a heavy thunder-storm came on. The bride deter- 
 mined to wait; and an hour after the appointed time, 
 under a brilliant rainbow, they were married, and started 
 for their missionary labors in the West. 
 
 They boarded for a short time, and then decided to go 
 to housekeeping. Mrs. Beecher, during the absence of 
 her husband at a synodical meeting, found two rooms 
 over a stable, at a rental of forty dollars per year. She 
 went to Cincinnati by boat, to the home of the Beechers, 
 and received, to help in furnishing these rooms, a bed- 
 stead, a stove, some' sheets and pillow-cases, and a piece 
 of carpet. Through the sale of her cloak for thirty dol-
 
 HENRY WARD BEECH ER. 233 
 
 lars, she obtained a husk mattress, a table, wash-tubs, 
 and groceries. 
 
 On Mr. Beecher's return he helped scrub the floors 
 the landlord objected to their being painted, as it would 
 injure the wood ! 
 
 Mrs. Beecher found in the back yard a broken table 
 and shelves, which had been thrown away as useless ; and 
 covering the former with the skirts of Mr. Beecher's old 
 coat, it became quite an elegant writing-table for the 
 young minister. The flour-barrel and sugar-barrel 
 sent in by friends were curtained from the rest of the 
 room by a piece of four-cent calico. 
 
 Mrs. Beecher helped support the family by taking in 
 sewing and keeping boarders. Mr. Beecher soon became 
 the idol of his people. Mr. John R. Howard, in his life 
 of Beecher, repeats these words of the famous preacher : 
 " There lived over on the other side of the street in Law- 
 renceburg, a very profane man who was counted ugly. I 
 understood that he had said some very bitter things of 
 me. I went right over to his store, and sat down on the 
 counter to talk with him. I happened in often day 
 in and day out. My errand was to make him like me. 
 I did make him like me, and all the children too ; and 
 when I left, two or three years later, it was his house 
 that was opened to me and all my family for the week 
 after I gave up my room. And to the day of his death, 
 I do not believe the old man could mention my name 
 without crying." 
 
 " Once," says a brother minister, " he called to a poor 
 German emigrant woman that if she would bring him 
 her clothes-line, he would show her how to get her win- 
 ter's supply of fuel. She brought it, and he tied a stone 
 to one end, and flinging it out from the shore over the
 
 234 HENRY WARD BEECUER. 
 
 logs, would draw them in. In a little while their com- 
 bined efforts had brought in a dray-load." 
 
 Mr. Beecher began his work modestly : " I never ex- 
 pected that I could accomplish much," he said. "I 
 merely went to work with the feeling : ' I will do as well 
 as I can, and I will stick to it, if the Lord pleases, and 
 fight his battle the best way I know how.' And I was 
 thankful as I could be. Nobody ever sent me a spare- 
 rib that I did not thank God for the kindness which was 
 
 shown me. I recollect when Judge gave me his 
 
 cast-off clothing, I felt that I was sumptuously clothed. 
 I wore old coats and second-hand shirts for two or three 
 years, and I was not above it, either, although sometimes, 
 as I was physically a somewhat well-developed man, and 
 the judge was thin and his legs were slim, they were 
 rather a tight fit." 
 
 " At first," he says, " I preached some theology. . . . 
 But my horizon grew larger and larger in that one idea 
 of Christ. . . . After I had gone through two or three 
 revivals of religion, when I looked around, he was all 
 in all. And my whole ministry sprang out of that." 
 
 After two years at Lawrenceburg, Mr. Beecher was 
 called to the Second Presbyterian Church of Indianapolis, 
 then a place of four thousand inhabitants, with a salary 
 of six hundred dollars. He declined the call twice, but 
 finally, laying the matter before the Synod, was con- 
 strained to accept. 
 
 Here, as at Lawrenceburg, the church was filled to 
 overflowing to hear the young, original, earnest preacher. 
 During his ministry of eight years at Indianapolis, there 
 were three seasons of revival. In the spring of 1842 
 about one hundred persons joined the church. One 
 spring Mr. Beecher preached for seventy consecutive
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 235 
 
 nights. He loved to recall those days. He said, " Talk 
 of a young mother's feelings over her first babe what 
 is that compared with the solemnity, the enthusiasm, the 
 impetuosity of gratitude, of humility, of singing glad- 
 ness, with which a young pastor greets the incoming of 
 his first revival ? He stands upon the shore to see the 
 tide come in ! It is the movement of the infinite, ethe- 
 real tide ! It is from the other world ! There is no 
 color like heart color. The homeliest things dipped in 
 that forever after glow with celestial hues." 
 
 Other churches besides his own were blessed with his 
 ministrations. He says, " For eight or ten years I la- 
 bored for the poor and needy, in cabins, in camp-meet- 
 ings, through woods, up and down, sometimes riding two 
 days to meet my appointments. I had no books but my 
 Bible ; and I went from one to the other from the Bible 
 to men, and from men to the Bible." 
 
 Yet when he could be at home he was a diligent reader 
 of other books, the sermons of Jonathan Edwards, of 
 Isaac Barrow, and of Robert South. He pored over 
 London's Encyclopaedias of Horticulture, Agriculture, 
 and Architecture. He became the editor of the Indiana 
 Farmer and Gardener. 
 
 He loved to work among flowers and raise vegetables, 
 which he often took to market before daylight. He be- 
 lieved in manual labor. He painted his own house, and 
 did not hesitate to bring his groceries home in a wheel- 
 barrow. He said : " It is my deliberate conviction that 
 physical labor is indispensable to intellectual and moral 
 health." 
 
 He was as fearless as he was industrious. One man 
 had taken offence at Mr. Beecher's plain-speaking about 
 some of his brutal acts. He stationed himself on the
 
 236 HENRY WARD BE EC HER. 
 
 hotel steps, pistol in hand, to meet the pastor as lie 
 should return from the post-office. 
 
 " Did you say thus in your sermon yesterday ? " asked 
 the man. 
 
 " I did," was the reply. 
 
 " Did you intend those remarks for me, or were you 
 meaning me ? " 
 
 " I most certainly did. 
 
 " Then," - with an oath, " take it back right here, or 
 I'll shoot you on the spot." 
 
 " Shoot away," said Mr. Beecher, looking the man 
 squarely in the face, and passed on. The man followed 
 for a few steps, and then went down a side street. 
 
 Although one of Mr. Beecher's elders had said, " If an 
 Abolitionist comes here, I will head a mob and put him 
 down," the brave preacher sat on the platform at an 
 Abolitionist meeting, and in his pulpit preached so ear- 
 nestly against slavery that it was predicted that his in- 
 fluence for all time would be destroyed. He lectured as 
 earnestly against intemperance and other sins ; and these 
 " Lectures to Young Men " became his first volume, dedi- 
 cated to his father. The book had a wide reading, both 
 in England and America. 
 
 While at Indianapolis his little son George died. 
 Years later he said, " I remember, to-night, as well as I 
 did at the time, the night that my eldest son died. That 
 was my first great sorrow. ... It was in March, and 
 there had just come up a great storm, and all the ground 
 was covered with snow. 
 
 "We went down to the graveyard with little Georgie, 
 and waded through it in the snow. I got out of the 
 carriage and took the little coffin in my arms, and 
 walked knee-deep to the side of the grave, and looking
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 237 
 
 in I saw the winter down at the very bottom of it. ... 
 If T should live a thousand years I could not help shiv- 
 ering every time I thought of it." 
 
 Mr. Beecher loved the West, and expected to remain 
 permanently in it ; but the East had learned of his ear- 
 nestness and his eloquence, and called him to Brooklyn. 
 For a long time be refused to consider it ; but his wife 
 having suffered much from chills and fever, he finally 
 accepted the call to the newly organized Plymouth 
 Church, with twenty-one members, in the fall of 1847, at 
 a salary of fifteen hundred dollars. In two years the 
 membership had grown to over four hundred, and a new 
 church had been built the other having been badly 
 damaged by fire at a cost of $36,000. 
 
 A month after Mr. Beecher's arrival in Brooklyn, his 
 little girl, " Caty," died, and began, as h*e says, " her 
 quiet inarch toward the once-opened gate, to rejoin the 
 brother." 
 
 From this time onward till Mr. Beecher's death in 
 1887, for forty years, Plymouth Church became the cen- 
 tre of almost unparalleled influence. Dr. Barrows says 
 with truth, "It is probable that, except Westminster 
 Abbey, no other church of English-speaking nations has 
 in this century been visited by so many men and women 
 of renown." 
 
 The church, accommodating three thousand persons, 
 was year by year crowded to repletion, often as many 
 going away as could find standing-room within. Every- 
 body wanted to hear the most eloquent pulpit orator in 
 America. 
 
 When Mr. Beecher first came to Plymouth Church, 
 some said he would not please the cultivated East, but 
 his earnestness soon satisfied all cavillers. He had one
 
 238 HENRY WARD BEECUER. 
 
 message, as he said, " The love of Christ to men. This, 
 to me, was a burning reality. . . . Consequently I went 
 into this work with all my soul, preaching night and 
 day." 
 
 The slavery question had now come to be the foremost 
 question among the people. By the Missouri Compro- 
 mise of 1821, slavery was not to extend north beyond 
 latitude 36 30'. When, in 1849, California asked ad- 
 mittance to the Union as a free State, the South, feeling 
 that the balance of power would be on the side of free- 
 dom, bitterly opposed it. Henry Clay, the great com- 
 promiser, brought forward his " Omnibus Bill " in 1850, 
 the principal features of which were that California 
 should be a fcee State, and the Fugitive Slave Law should 
 be more stringent,, so that Southerners might reclaim 
 slaves in the Northern States, and take them back to 
 bondage, and it should be the duty of Northerners to 
 help them. President Millard Fillmore signed these 
 measures. 
 
 Mr. Beecher wrote for the New York Independent a 
 three-column article, entitled, " Shall We Compromise ? " 
 The dying John C. Calhoun had it read twice to him. 
 " The man who says that is right," he repeated. " There 
 is no alternative. It is liberty or slavery." 
 
 When Daniel Webster, in his fatal speech of March 7, 
 1850, favored compromise, " Then it was that I flamed," 
 said Mr. Beecher, and from that time till the Civil Wai- 
 was over he was at a white heat. 
 
 When Wendell Phillips was denied a place to speak 
 because he was an Abolitionist, and no one dared to rent 
 a hall for him through fear of a mob, Henry Ward 
 Beecher opened Plymouth pulpit. He went to every 
 trustee for his consent. If the man hesitated, Mr.
 
 HENRY WARD KEECIIEE. 239 
 
 Beecher said, " You and I will break if you don't give 
 me this permission," and he signed. 
 
 A great audience assembled, and men were ready with 
 revolvers to use them if the mob molested the speaker. 
 
 Mr. Beecher would not ride in omnibuses where colored 
 persons were refused. He invited Frederick Douglass 
 to sit beside him on the platform in Plymouth Church 
 he would not have a pulpit, which half hid the pastor 
 from his people. Mr. Beecher's sister, Mrs. Stowe, had 
 published " Uncle Tom's Cabin" as a serial in 1851, and 
 in book form in 1852, which electrified the North and 
 infuriated the South. 
 
 "When Stephen A. Douglas proposed the repeal of the 
 Missouri Compromise, which was carried in 1854, Kan- 
 sas became a battle-ground between slaveholders and 
 lovers of freedom. Houses were burned, men were mur- 
 dered, and all the horrors of civil war continued for four 
 years. Mr. Beecher's voice and pen were never silent : 
 " Peace in Kansas," he said, ' means peace everywhere ; 
 war there will be war all ov^er the land. . . . What is 
 done must be done quickly. Funds must be freely given, 
 arms must be had, even if bought at the price mentioned 
 by our Saviour : ' He that hath no sword, let him sell his 
 garment and buy one.' " 
 
 He took up collections in Plymouth Church and else- 
 where for Sharp's rifles, and for Bibles as well. Some 
 of the rifles were sent, it is said, in boxes marked Bibles, 
 though without his knowledge, and were therefore called 
 "Beecher's Bibles." 
 
 When John C. Fremont was the first nominee of the 
 Republicans in 1856, Mr. Beecher, with the hearty con- 
 currence of his church, spoke for the party two or three 
 times a week all through the State of New York. An
 
 240 HENRY WARD BEECHES. 
 
 amusing incident occurred at Rome, N.Y., which illus- 
 trated Beecher's graphic utterance. 
 
 He said: "My friends, in this great campaign there 
 are but two sides, and we must range ourselves upon one 
 side or the other ; there is no middle ground for any of 
 us. On the one side is Buchanan, with the black shield 
 of slavery, and upon the other is Fremont, with the 
 white banner of liberty, and with one or the other of 
 these two you must take your stand ; but who is this that 
 I see crawling under the fence ? Oh, that is Millard 
 Fillmore." Immediately a little fellow in the front 
 row jumped up, looked under the chairs, and shouted 
 out, " Where is he ? " The people laughed so heartily, 
 that the lad got up and left the hall. 
 
 Mr. Beecher was always quick at repartee, either in 
 conversation or address. Before an audience of ten 
 thousand people in Chicago, he was lecturing on " Com- 
 munism," and said, " The voice of the people is the voice 
 of God." A man in the gallery shouted, " The voice of 
 the people is the voice of a fool." Beecher replied 
 simply, " I said the voice of the people, not the voice of 
 one man." 
 
 In one of his anti-slavery speeches he said " that it 
 was a penitentiary offence to teach a slave." A man in 
 the corner of the gallery exclaimed, " It's a lie ! " 
 
 " Well," said Beecher, " I shall not argue with the 
 gentleman in the corner, as doubtless he has been there 
 and ought to know." 
 
 Very stirring scenes were witnessed in these times. 
 Two Edmonson sisters, of light complexion, whose 
 mother was born a slave, but whose father was free, 
 had been brought up in Washington. The former owner 
 of the mother, finding that they were uncommonly at-
 
 HENRY WARD li EEC HER. 241 
 
 tractive, determined to send them to New Orleans to be 
 sold in the slave market. The girls tried to escape, but 
 could not. 
 
 Their heart-broken father went to New York to see if 
 he could raise the two thousand dollars demanded for 
 their purchase. He was advised to see Mr. Beecher. 
 He reached his home in Brooklyn ; but having met many 
 rebuffs, he feared to ring the bell, and sat down on the 
 steps, while tears coursed down his cheeks. Mr. Beecher 
 finally heard his story and arranged for a meeting at the 
 Broadway Tabernacle. He spoke with wonderful power, 
 as did also the Rev. Dr. John Dowling, the father of 
 the brilliant Rev. Dr. George Thomas Dowling. The 
 sum of twenty-two hundred dollars was raised, and the 
 girls were set free. 
 
 Mr. Beecher said, "I think that of all the meetings 
 that I have attended in my life, for a panic of sympathy 
 I never saw one that surpassed that. I have seen a 
 great many in my day." 
 
 Mrs. Stowe became responsible for the education of the 
 sisters, and later raised enough money to purchase the 
 freedom of the mother and two other children. 
 
 Among several who were bought for liberty " on the 
 auction-block of Plymouth pulpit," was " Pinky," a little 
 colored girl. "She was bought and overbought," said 
 Mr. Beecher. " The rain never fell faster than the tears 
 fell from many that were here." Rose Terry Cooke threw 
 her ring into the contribution box, and Mr. Beecher put 
 it on the child's hand and told her -'it was her freedom- 
 ring." Her expression was such a happy one that 
 Eastman Johnson, the artist, painted her on canvas, 
 looking at her freedom-ring. Later she was sent for a 
 year to Lincoln University at Washington, and went
 
 242 HENRY WARD HEECIIER. 
 
 back to her own people to become a teacher and a mis- 
 sionary among them. 
 
 In these years of incessant toil, Mr. Beeeher's home 
 was gladdened by the birth of twin boys, Alfred and 
 Arthur, in December, 1852. They both died on the 
 fourth of July in the following year, and were buried in 
 one grave. Mr. Beecher could not hear their names 
 mentioned for years, so overwhelming was the loss to 
 the man who idolized children. 
 
 In the autumn of 1854, by the aid of friends, he pur- 
 chased a farm of nearly one hundred acres at Lenox, 
 Berkshire County, Mass. He was a devoted lover of 
 trees. Speaking of a large elm, he said, " It was with a 
 feeling of awe that we looked up into its face ; and when 
 I whispered to myself, ' This is mine,' there was a 
 shrinking, as if there were sacrilege in the very thought 
 of property in such a creature of God as this cathedral- 
 topped tree ! Does a man bare his head in some old 
 church ? So did I, standing in the shadow of this regal 
 tree, and looking up into that completed glory at which 
 three hundred years have been at work with noiseless 
 fingers ! . . . Thou belongest to no man's hand, but to 
 all men's eyes that do love beauty, and that have learned 
 through beauty to behold God ! Stand, then, in thine 
 own beauty and grandeur ! I shall be a lover and a pro- 
 tector, to keep drought from thy roots and the age from 
 thy trunk." 
 
 Though he said, "The chief use of a farm is to lie 
 down upon," knowing as all brainworkers know, how 
 restful it is to stretch one's self upon the ground, yet he 
 always cultivated flowers and vegetables, and made the 
 whole farm a thing of beauty 
 
 He felt that he owed much to Ruskin's works. "The
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 243 
 
 sky, the earth, and the waters are no longer what they 
 were to us. We have learned a language and come to a 
 sympathy in them more throiigh the instrumentality of 
 Ruskin's works than by all other instrumentalities on 
 earth, excepting, always, the nature which my mother 
 gave me sainted be her name." 
 
 When the slavery struggles had culminated in war, 
 and the South had fired the first gun at Fort Sumter, 
 April 12, 1861, Beecher's heart was aflame. In his 
 pulpit he said, "Give me war redder than blood and 
 fiercer than fire, if this terrific infliction is necessary 
 that I may maintain my faith in God, in human liberty, 
 my faith of the fathers in the instruments of liberty, my 
 faith in this land as the appointed abode and chosen 
 refuge of liberty for all the earth ! " 
 
 When his eldest son he had already enlisted said, 
 " Father, may I enlist ? " the instant reply was, " If you 
 don't, I'll disown you." 
 
 After helping to fit out two regiments, Mr. Beecher 
 took upon himself the entire equipping of a new one, 
 called " The Long Island Volunteers," afterwards the 
 Sixty-seventh New York. 
 
 Plymouth Church parlors became a workshop, where, 
 under Mrs. Beecher's direction, women made articles for 
 the soldiers at the front. By personal solicitation large 
 sums were raised from families and merchants. Mr. 
 Beecher told his wife to use all his salary except the 
 smallest amount necessary for family expenses. He 
 made patriotic addresses which were read and talked 
 about the country over. " It is probable," said the well- 
 known journalist, Frederick Hudson, "that there is not 
 another man in the United States who is as much heard 
 and read as Henry Ward Beecher, unless the other man 
 is Wendell Phillips."
 
 244 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 The first anniversary Sunday of the attack on Fort 
 Sumter, Henry Ward Beecher said, "We will give every 
 dollar that we are worth, every child that we have, and 
 our own selves; we will bring all that we are and all that 
 we have, and offer them up freely but this country 
 shall be one and undivided. We will have one Constitu- 
 tion and one liberty, and that universal. The Atlantic 
 shall sound it, and the Pacific shall echo it back, deep 
 answering to deep, and it shall reverberate from the 
 Lakes on the North to the unfrozen Gulf on the South 
 ' One nation, one constitution, one starry banner!' Hear 
 it, England ! one country, and indivisible; one hope; 
 one baptism ; one constitution ; one government ; one 
 nation ; one country ; one people cost what it may, we 
 will have it ! " 
 
 He urged immediate and universal emancipation, with 
 all the fire and eloquence of his nature. He became the 
 warm friend of President Lincoln, with whom he had 
 many confidential conferences. W 7 hen the immortal 
 Emancipation Proclamation was issued, declaring that 
 after Jan. 1, 1863, the slaves "shall be thenceforward 
 and forever free," Beecher said in his lecture-room talk, 
 Dec. 31 : " As for myself, let come what will come, I care 
 not. God may peel me and bark me and strip me of my 
 leaves, and do as he chooses with my earthly estate. I 
 have lived long enough. ... I have uttered some words 
 that will not die, because they are incorporated into the 
 lives of men that will not die." 
 
 In June, 1803, worn out with continuous speaking, Mr. 
 Beecher went to Europe with Dr. John Raymond, then 
 president of Vassar College. He had been over before, 
 in 1850, thirteen years previously. He travelled in 
 Switzerland, Italy, and Germany, and at the request of
 
 HENRY WARD li EEC HER. 245 
 
 the United States Minister, talked with King Leopold 
 of Belgium, a wise and able man, about American affairs. 
 
 The king, asking Mr. Beecher what he thought of send- 
 ing Maximilian to Mexico, he replied, "Your Majesty, 
 any man that wants to sit upon a throne in Mexico, I 
 would advise to try Vesuvius first; if he can sit there 
 for a while, then he might go and try it in Mexico." 
 His words proved true for the unfortunate Maximilian 
 and Carlotta. 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher found in England much sym- 
 pathy with the slave-holding South, and a disbelief in 
 the ultimate success of the North, and continuance of 
 the Union. Going to Europe for rest, he did not intend 
 to speak, but was finally persuaded that it was his duty 
 to win friends for the North, so that England should 
 not declare for the Southern Confederacy. 
 
 The first meeting was held at Manchester, Oct. 9, 1803. 
 The streets were placarded with huge posters in red ink, 
 and threats were heard on every side that the speaker 
 should never leave Free Trade Hall alive. 
 
 As soon as Beecher began to speak, there were hisses 
 and yells by the mob, so that not a word could be heard. 
 Standing erect before the howling crowd, he said, " My 
 friends, we will have a whole night's session, but we will 
 be heard." When not a word could reach the people, 
 he leaned over to the reporters present, and said: " Gen- 
 tlemen, be kind enough to take down what I say. It 
 will be in sections, but T will have it connected by and 
 by." 
 
 Finally by courage and wit and eloquence the crowd 
 was subdued and won over to the speaker, who discussed 
 the dire effects of slavery upon the manufacturing inter- 
 ests of the world, and stated the real condition of Amer- 
 ica in her struggle between slavery and liberty.
 
 246 IIENllY WARD BEECHES. 
 
 He said : " If the day shall come in one year, in two 
 years, or in ten years hence, when the old stars and 
 stripes shall float over every State of America; if the 
 day shall come when that which was the accursed 
 cause of this dire and atrocious war slavery shall be 
 done away with ; if the day shall come when through 
 all the Gulf States there shall be liberty of speech, as 
 there never has been ; when there shall be liberty of the 
 press, as there never has been ; when men shall have com- 
 mon schools to send their children to, which they have 
 never had in the South ... it Avill be worth all the 
 dreadful blood and tears and woe." 
 
 Just as Beecher was closing, a telegram from London 
 was read that " Her Majesty has to-night caused the 
 ' broad arrow ' to be placed on the rams in Mr. Laird's 
 yard at Birkenhead." This meant the stoppage of the 
 ships which were building for the South, to destroy our 
 shipping as the Alabama had done. The whole audience 
 rose and cheered, men waving their hats and women 
 their handkerchiefs as they wept. 
 
 So moved were the people that a big fellow in the gal- 
 lery, who could not shake hands with Mr. Beecher, cried 
 out, " Shake my umbrella," as he reached it down to the 
 platform. Mr. Beecher did as requested. " By Jocks ! " 
 said the man, " nobody sha'n't touch that umbrella 
 again." 
 
 On Oct. 13 Beecher spoke to an immense audience 
 at Glasgow, telling them that in building ships to destroy 
 free labor in America, " they were driving nails in their 
 own coffins." 
 
 The interruptions, though great here, were not as bad as 
 at Manchester. The next evening he spoke to a packed 
 house at Edinburgh, being lifted over the people's heads
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHEB. 247 
 
 to reach the platform. These speeches were reported 
 verbatim all over England. 
 
 On Oct. 16 he spoke at the great Philharmonic 
 Hall at Liverpool, at that time the headquarters of 
 Southern sympathies. The meeting was a perfect bed- 
 lam. " Three cheers for Jeff Davis " were given every 
 now and then, with cries of "Turn him out! " hisses and 
 yells, till Beecher sat down on the edge of the platform 
 and waited for a calm. For three hours, sentence by 
 sentence, his voice was hurled against a threatening, 
 hooting mob. 
 
 Four days later Henry Ward Beecher spoke to a dense 
 crowd in Exeter Hall, London. With satire and pathos 
 and burning eloquence, he spoke like one inspired. Dr. 
 William M. Taylor, of the Broadway Tabernacle, New 
 York, said, " I believe there has not been such eloquence 
 in the world since Demosthenes." 
 
 Dr. Lyman Abbott and the Kev. S. B. Halliday, in 
 their life of Mr. Beecher, say with truth, that ' he 
 changed the public sentiment, and so the political course 
 of the nation, and secured and cemented an alliance be- 
 tween the mother country and our own land, which needs 
 no treaties to give it expression, which has been gaining 
 strength ever since, and which no demagogism on this 
 side of the water, and no ignorance and prejudice on that, 
 have been able to impair." 
 
 The physical strain while in England was great. " I 
 thought at times," he says, "that I should certainly 
 break a blood-vessel or have apoplexy. I did not care ; 
 I was willing to die as ever I was, when hungiy and 
 thirsty, to take refreshment, if 1 might die for my 
 country." 
 
 Mr. Beecher on his return was welcomed with open
 
 248 HENRY WARD BEECHES. 
 
 arms and grateful hearts by the American people. 
 Great receptions were given him at the Academy of 
 Music, Brooklyn, and the Academy of Music, New 
 York. 
 
 When the heart-breaking war was over, and General 
 Lee had surrendered to General Grant under the apple- 
 tree at Appomattox, April 9, 18(55, and it was decided to 
 raise over Fort Sumter, April 14, the flag that had been 
 pulled down four years before, the great preacher and 
 orator, who had helped to save the Union, was asked to 
 deliver the address. 
 
 When Major-General Robert Anderson ran up the flag, 
 it was saluted by a hundred guns from Fort Sumter and 
 by a national salute from every fort that had tired upon 
 Sumter at the beginning of the war. 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher's address was masterly ; a review 
 of the dreadful war, and our duties in the future. 
 
 That very night, April 14, 1865, President Lincoln was 
 assassinated by the actor, J. Wilkes Booth. Mr. Beecher 
 said in his sermon the following Sunday : " The blow 
 brought not a sharp pang. It was so terrible that at first 
 it stunned sensibility. . . . There was a piteous help- 
 lessness. Strong men bowed down and wept. . . . Men 
 walked for days as if a corpse lay unburied in their 
 dwellings. There was nothing else to think of. All 
 business was laid aside. Pleasure forgot to smile. . . . 
 Even avarice stood still, and greed was strongly moved 
 to generous sympathy and universal sorrow. Rear to 
 his name monuments, found charitable institutions, and 
 write his name above their lintels ; but no monument 
 will ever equal the universal, spontaneous, and sublime 
 sorrow that in a moment swept down lines and parties, 
 and covered up animosities, arid in an hour brought a
 
 HENEY WARD BEECIIEE. 249 
 
 divided people into unity of grief and indivisible fellow- 
 ship of anguish." 
 
 Beecher took an active part in the reconstruction and 
 readmission of the seceded States, urging that the great- 
 est leniency be shown, now that they had surrendered ; 
 opposed the hanging of Jefferson Davis ; urged the right 
 of suffrage for the colored people : "It is always inex- 
 pedient and foolish," he said, " to deny a man his natural 
 rights." He did not believe that the freedmen should 
 be cared for permanently by a military power at the 
 South, placed there by the North. "We are to educate 
 the negroes, and to Christianly educate them. We are 
 to raise them in intelligence more and more, until they 
 shall be able to prove themselves worthy of citizenship. 
 For, I tell you, all the laws in the world cannot bolster 
 a man up so as to place him any higher than his own 
 moral worth and natural forces put him." 
 
 For a letter stating such views as these, written to the 
 National Convention of Soldiers and Sailors held at 
 Cleveland, O., in the autumn of I860, Mr. Beecher was 
 assailed all over the country. " The rage and abuse of 
 excited men," he said, " I have too long been used to, 
 now to be surprised or daunted. ... I stood almost 
 alone, my church, in my absence, full of excitement ; all 
 my ministerial brethren, with a few honorable excep- 
 tions, either aloof or in clamor against me ; well-nigh 
 the whole religious press denouncing me, and the politi- 
 cal press furious." 
 
 He spoke boldly against the corrupt judges in New 
 York City in the time of the Tweed dictatorship. Years 
 later when Beecher voted and spoke for Grover Cleve- 
 land for the presidency, because he believed a change 
 of parties wise for the country at the time, on account of
 
 250 HENRY WARD BEEC11ER. 
 
 "the corruption of too long held power," and did not 
 trust James G. Elaine, the opposing candidate, the same 
 denunciation and bitterness were shown ; all of which 
 proves that toleration for opinions differing from our 
 own requires a very high type of character. 
 
 Beechers liberal views in theology were likewise bit- 
 terly antagonized. The truth was that he cared little 
 for creeds, believing that to preach Christ as the Saviour 
 of the world was the paramount and vital need of men. 
 He believed the theology of the future "would be far 
 more powerful than the old a theology of hope, and of 
 love, which shall cast out fear." He felt with Whittier 
 in the " Eternal Goodness," - 
 
 " Yet, in the maddening maze of things, 
 
 And tossed by storm and flood, 
 To one fixed trust my spirit clings, 
 I know that God is good ! 
 
 And so beside the Silent Sea 
 
 I wait the muffled oar: 
 No harm from Him can come to me 
 
 On ocean or on shore. 
 
 I know not where His islands lift 
 
 There frondcd palms in air; 
 I only know I cannot drift 
 
 Beyond His love and care." 
 
 His sermons were translated into German, French, 
 Spanish, and Italian, and were read the world over ; and 
 men and women grew more gentle and lovable from the 
 reading. 
 
 After the war the busy life went on as busy as ever. 
 One volume of the " Life of Christ," rich in his wonder- 
 ful imagination and beauty of language, was written.
 
 HENRY WARD BEECIIER. 251 
 
 He did not live to complete the second volume. His 
 one novel, "Norwood," a story of New England, was 
 published as a serial in the New York Ledger in 1867, 
 Mr. Bonner giving him $25,000 for it. 
 
 In 1870, having resigned the editorship of the In- 
 dependent, Beecher became the editor of the Christian 
 Union. In 1872 he gave a course of twelve lectures 
 on " Preaching " to the Divinity School of Yale College, 
 Mr. Henry W. Sage of Plymouth Church having founded 
 at New Haven the Lyinan Beecher Lectureship of 
 Preaching. 
 
 When asked by Mr. John R. Howard if he knew what 
 he should say at these lectures, he replied, " Yes ; in a 
 way. I know what I am going to aim at, but of course 
 I don't get down to anything specific. I brood it, and 
 ponder it, and dream over it, and pick up information 
 about one point and another ; but if ever I think I see 
 the plan opening up to me, I don't dare to look at it 
 or put it down on paper. If I once write a thing out, it 
 is almost impossible for me to kindle up to it again. I 
 never dare nowadays to write out a sermon during the 
 week ; that is sure to kill it. I have to think around 
 and about it, get it generally ready, and then fuse it 
 when the time comes." 
 
 Beecher was a great student of the Bible, reading it 
 on the cars as lie travelled to his lecture appointments, 
 and, like Emerson, jotting down in little note-books 
 thoughts and suggestions. 
 
 He prepared his Sunday morning sermon in an hour 
 and a half, between breakfast and the time of service. 
 Locked into his room, he wrote with his goose-quill pen 
 the headings and a few illustrations. Then in the pul- 
 pit the eloquent words came pouring from his lips, born
 
 252 HENRY WARD It EEC HER. 
 
 of the time and place. His evening sermon he prepared 
 after tea. When asked how he was able to do so much 
 work, he said it was partly owing to a good constitution ; 
 " much, also, to an early acquired knowledge of how 
 to take care of myself, to secure invariably a full meas- 
 ure of sleep, to regard food as an engineer does fuel (to 
 be employed economically, and entirely with reference 
 to the work to be done by the machine) ; much to the 
 habit of economizing social forces, and not wasting in 
 needless conversation and pleasurable hilarities the spirit 
 that would carry me through many days of necessaiy 
 work ; but, above all, to the possession of a hopeful dis- 
 position and natural courage, to sympathy with men, and 
 to an unfailing trust in God ; so that I have always 
 worked for the love of working." 
 
 He never used stimulants except as a medicine. He 
 wrote to a friend, " I am a total abstainer, both in belief 
 and practice. . . . I hold that no man in health needs or 
 is the better for alcoholic stimulants ; that great good 
 will follow to the whole community from the total disuse 
 of them as articles of diet or luxury ; and that so soon 
 as the moral sense of society will sustain such laws, it 
 will be wise and right to enact prohibitory liquor laws. 
 ... I should as soon think of offering a well man a 
 dose of rhubarb as a dose of brandy." 
 
 Mr. Beecher was an earnest advocate of woman suf- 
 frage as well as temperance. He believed in equality of 
 privilege in the pulpit, in medicine, everywhere, though 
 he said, " People may talk about equality of the sexes ! 
 . . . The silent smile of a sensible, loving woman will 
 vanquish ten men." Of woman, he said, " She is the 
 right hand of the charities of the church. . . . She is 
 not only permitted in the great orthodox churches of
 
 HENRY WARD BEECIIER, 253 
 
 New England to speak in meeting, but when they send 
 her abroad, ordained to preach the gospel to the heathen, 
 there she is permitted to preach ; and when they come 
 home, women may still teach in a hall, but not in a 
 church, and dear old men there are yet so conservative 
 that they are reading through golden spectacles their 
 Bibles, and saying : " T suffer not a woman to preach." 
 
 Mr. Beecher found his recreation from hard work in 
 his love of country life. His farm at Lenox, Mass., 
 proving too far from Brooklyn, he bought, in 1859, 
 thirty-six acres at Peekskill-on-the-Hudson, and named 
 it Boscobel. The old farmhouse was said to have been 
 the headquarters of General Israel Putnam of Revolu- 
 tionary fame. 
 
 He watched like a child for the first note of the blue- 
 bird and robin, for the first arbutus, anemone, and violet 
 of early spring. He loved roses as fondly as Professor 
 Child of Harvard College. He raised hollyhocks, dahlias, 
 geraniums, pansies, lilies, and chrysanthemums. He said, 
 " The wonder is, that every other man is not an enthu- 
 siast, and in the month of June a gentle fanatic. Floral 
 insanity is one of the most charming inflictions to which 
 man is heir." 
 
 He bought trees of almost every variety, chickens of 
 various kinds, Jersey cows and honey-bees, and a large 
 family of dogs, a St. Bernard, a mastiff, an Eskimo, a 
 terrier, and others. 
 
 He once said, " If the dog isn't good for anything 
 else, it is good for you to love, and that is a good deal." 
 Speaking of those at Peekskill, he said. "They are prac- 
 tically good for nothing, but I sometimes think they are 
 worth more to me than the whole place." 
 
 He used to say that he felt really sorry that his dog
 
 254 IIENRY WARD BE EC HER. 
 
 Tommy could not talk. " If ever there was a dog that 
 was distressed to think that he could not talk, that dog 
 is. I sit by him on the bank, of a summer evening, and 
 I say, ' Tommy, I am sorry for you ; ' and he whines, as 
 much as to say, ' So am I.' I say, ' Tommy, I should 
 like to tell you a great many things that you are worthy 
 of knowing ; ' and I do not know which is the most 
 puzzled, he or I I to get any idea into his head, or he 
 to get any out of mine." 
 
 Mr. Beecher finally built a beautiful house of granite 
 and brick, natural woods throughout the interior : first 
 story cherry ; second, ash ; and third, pine, where he 
 gathered his valuable library. " Where is human nature 
 so weak as in a book-store ? " he said ; and in books and 
 flowers and works of art he found that money melted 
 away, so that, say his sons, William C. Beecher and the 
 Rev. Samuel Scoville, in the life of their father, " it was 
 in part to meet this heavy outlay that he projected and 
 carried out the series of lecture-tours that ran through 
 the last ten years of his life." 
 
 He had learned what many another learns, that " the 
 most profitable kind of land-owning " is to " enjoy all 
 that there is of beauty and peacefulness in my neigh- 
 bor's lands as much as they, without the responsibility 
 or the taxes." And yet people have to build once, to 
 learn not to build again. 
 
 In 1872, Mr. Beecher having preached for twenty-five 
 years in Plymouth Church, a "Silver Wedding" was 
 celebrated by his people. Monday, Oct. 7, was the 
 first day of the jubilee. In the sunny afternoon the 
 three thousand children in the three Sunday-schools 
 connected with the church marched past Mr. Beecher's 
 house, as he stood upon his doorstep, and each child laid
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 255 
 
 a flower at his feet, until he stood " literally embanked 
 in flowers." Each day through the week had its appro- 
 priate exercises. On Thursday, the historical day, the 
 brilliant and learned Dr. Richard S. Storrs of Brooklyn 
 gave an eloquent address. "May your soul," said the 
 speaker, " as the years go on, be whitened more and 
 more in the radiance of God's light, and in the sunshine 
 of His love ! " 
 
 That soul was soon to be tested and whitened in a 
 furnace heated almost beyond endurance. Theodore 
 Tilton, a member of Mr. Beecher's church, had, through 
 the influence of the latter, become the editor of the In- 
 dependent. Having lost his position, apparently by his 
 own misdeeds, and made his family unhappy, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Beecher advised his wife to separate from him. 
 Tilton determined to drive Beecher from his pulpit, and 
 forced his wife to criminate the latter in character, which 
 statements she afterwards declared again and again were 
 untrue in every particular. Plymouth Church dropped 
 its obnoxious member. He took the case into the courts, 
 asking one hundred thousand dollars damages. For six. 
 months the details were read all over the world. Mr. 
 Beecher was acquitted by his church, by the jury, and 
 by a National Advisory Council of one hundred and 
 seventy-two churches. Mr. William A. Beach, the lead- 
 ing counsel for Tilton, said later, " I had not been four 
 days on the trial before I was confident that lie was 
 innocent. ... I felt and feel now that we were a pack 
 of hounds trying in vain to drag down a noble man.'' 
 Judge Neilson, who had not known Mr. Beecher previ- 
 ously, became his warm friend. 
 
 Most persons who will take the trouble to go over the 
 testimony now, after twenty years have cooled the pas-
 
 256 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 sions of the hour, will agree with Mr. Beach. Dr. 
 Barrows says truly, "That any man should have en- 
 dured the fires which surrounded Mr. Beecher, and have 
 come forth so radiant, so pure, so self-respecting, and 
 so widely trusted and beloved, is a moral miracle, the 
 parallel of which it would be difficult to find.'' 
 
 The expenses of the trial year were $118,000; and 
 though Plymouth Church raised Mr. Beecher's salary for 
 that year to $100,000, he found himself deeply in debt. 
 To pay this indebtedness he gave a series of lectures 
 during the next two or three years. " The Reign of the 
 Common People," " The Burdens of Society," " Con- 
 science," " The Uses of Wealth," " The Ministry of the 
 Beautiful," " Evolution and Religion," were among his 
 most popular lectures. Upon the last, though a deep 
 subject, I have seen five thousand persons strangely 
 moved by his eloquence. 
 
 Although in some places he was jeered at by the 
 rabble, yet year by year he found great strength and 
 comfort in the love of the people. He wrote home that 
 preaching' Sunday evening in Boston, " Ten thousand 
 people couldn't get in. Shook hands with whole audi- 
 ences. Papers next morning with kind notices. Went 
 to Congregational ministers' meeting on Monday morn- 
 ing. Cheered and clapped when I entered. After 
 prayer for day was finished it was moved that I address 
 the meeting. I did so, and closed with prayer. All 
 wept, and it broke up like a revival meeting." 
 
 In 1880, when Mr. Beecher was seventy-three years of 
 age, he consented to go a third time to England, to see 
 his friends and lecture. Mrs. Beecher accompanied him, 
 with his friend and lecture agent, Major J. B. Pond. 
 Three thousand Plymouth Church people came to see
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 257 
 
 him set sail in the early morning of June 19. Dod- 
 worth's band played " Hail to the Chief ; " and then, as 
 the vessel moved away, the great crowd sang, "Praise 
 God from whom all blessings flow." One friend had 
 sent a basket of twenty homing pigeons ; and these in 
 the afternoon carried back messages to the loved ones. 
 
 Everywhere in England Henry Ward Beecher was 
 received with a royal welcome. There were no more 
 meetings like those at Manchester and Liverpool in the 
 days of the Civil War. So vast were the crowds to hear 
 him preach, that the congregations had to be admitted by 
 ticket. Thousands were necessarily turned away. His 
 first lecture was at Exeter Hall, London. 
 
 " Between July 4 and Oct. 21, fifteen and one-half 
 weeks," says Mr. Pond in his book, " A Summer in Eng- 
 land with Henry Ward Beecher," " Mr. Beecher preached 
 seven times, gave nine public addresses, and delivered 
 fifty-eight lectures. For the fifty-eight lectures he 
 cleared the sum of $ 11, GOO, net of all expenses for him- 
 'self and Mrs. Beecher from the day they sailed from 
 New York." 
 
 It is estimated that Mr. Beecher earned by his pen 
 and voice during forty years in Brooklyn nearly a million 
 and a half dollars, most of which he gave away. 
 
 But much as he enjoyed England, the brave man was 
 growing weary with the work of life. He wrote, "I 
 want to come home. ... I long every year to lay 
 down my tasks and depart. ... It is simply a quiet 
 longing of the spirit, a brooding desire to be through 
 with my work, although I am willing to go on, if 
 need be." 
 
 He came home Oct. 31, 1886, and soon promised to 
 complete the second volume of the " Life of Christ."
 
 258 HENRY WARD BEECIIER. 
 
 He also made a contract with a publishing firm to have 
 his autobiography ready before July 1, 1888. 
 
 He wrote some on each book during the winter. 
 March 3 he went to New York with his wife, who said, 
 " I never knew my husband so lively, tender, or joyous 
 before, or not in a long time." That night he retired 
 early, feeling weary. The next day, Friday, he slept 
 nearly all day, and, being aroused to go to a prayer-meet- 
 ing, said he did not feel like getting up. A physician 
 came in the afternoon and in the evening, and asked Mr. 
 Beecher to raise his hand. He could not. The left side 
 showed signs of paralysis. It was apoplexy. 
 
 The great man watched the faces of his wife and the 
 doctor, seemed to divine the result, closed his eyes, gave 
 the hand of his wife " a long, strong, loving, and earnest 
 pressure. It was the realization of the inevitable. It 
 was farewell. He never opened his eyes again. His 
 sleep, thereafter, was constant. . . . From Saturday 
 morning until the end were silence, sleep, heavy but 
 regular breathing, and unconsciousness. . . . Mrs. 
 Beecher held his hand in hers continually. When the 
 end approached all the household were gathered. . . . 
 Not one of them shed a tear or gave expression to a sob 
 then and there. The supreme self-control was in 
 obedience to Mr. Beecher's often expressed hope and 
 wish that around his bed of release no tears should fall, 
 but the feeling should prevail as those who think of a 
 soul gone to its crowning." 
 
 At half-past nine, Tuesday morning, March 8, 1887, 
 the end came. He had often said, " Provide flowers for 
 me, not crape, when I am gone ; " so at once a wreath of 
 pink and white roses were hung upon the door-knob. 
 
 Private funeral services were held at the house on
 
 HENRY WARD BEECIIER. 259 
 
 Thursday, conducted by the Rev. Charles H. Hall, Rec- 
 tor of Trinity Church, Brooklyn, who in. Mr. Beecher's 
 time of trial, seeing him in his congregation, went down 
 the aisle, took him by the hand, and led him to a seat 
 within the chancel. Mr. Beecher never forgot a kind 
 act, and wished Dr. Hall to attend at his burial. 
 
 "There was no man whom I ever heard," said Dr. 
 Hall, " or whose works I have ever read, who inspired 
 me so deeply with the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. 
 He was a man of men, the most manly man I ever met ; 
 but he was also a man of God in the pre-eminent sense 
 of the word." 
 
 The body was escorted to the church by Company G 
 of the Thirteenth Regiment " My boys," Mr. Beecher 
 called them, as many were of Plymouth Church. 
 
 The coffin was laid in a perfect bower of flowers, lilies 
 of the valley, maidenhair fern, and smilax entirely cov- 
 ering it. The organ, platform, and pulpit chair were a 
 mass of bloom, roses and pinks and graceful plants. 
 
 All day long, until ten at night, the throng of people, 
 half or three-quarters of a mile in extent, passed by to 
 look at the beloved face. On Friday, only those were 
 admitted who had tickets. Four churches were open 
 for services, and all were crowded. All public offices 
 and schools were closed, and business was suspended. 
 
 Dr. Hall made the address at the funeral. Very ten- 
 derly he said of the dead preacher, " On his last Sunday 
 evening in this place, two weeks ago, after the congre- 
 gation had retired from it, the organist and one or two 
 others were practising the hymn, 
 
 " ' I heard the voice of Jesus say, 
 Come unto me and rest.'
 
 260 HENRY WARD BEECIIER. 
 
 " Mr. Beecher, doubtless with that tire that follows 
 a pastor's Sunday work, remained and listened. Two 
 street urchins were prompted to wander into the build- 
 ing ; and one of them was standing in the position of the 
 boy whom Raphael has immortalized, gazing up at the 
 organ. The old man, laying his hands on the boy's 
 head, turned his face upward and kissed him ; and with 
 his arms about the two, left the scene of his triumphs, 
 his trials, and his successes forever. 
 
 " It was a fitting close to a grand life, the old man of 
 genius and fame shielding the little wanderers, great 
 in breasting traditional ways and prejudices, great also 
 in the gesture, so like him, that recognized, as did the 
 Master, that the humblest and poorest were his breth- 
 ren, the great preacher led out into the night by the 
 little nameless waifs." 
 
 After the services the doors were opened, and one 
 hundred thousand people passed through the church by 
 the coffin. 
 
 On Saturday, March 12, the body was taken to Green- 
 wood Cemetery, and temporarily placed in a receiving 
 vault filled with abundant flowers. Later it was buried 
 on Dawn Path, near Hillside Avenue, on the south-east- 
 erly slope of Ocean Hill, with a simple headstone. 
 
 " When I fall," said the great preacher, " and am 
 buried dn Greenwood, let no man dare to stand over the 
 turf and say, * Here lies Henry Ward Beecher; ' for God 
 knows that I will not lie there. Look lip ! if you love 
 me, and if you feel that I have helped you on your way 
 home, stand with your feet on my turf and look up ; for 
 I will not hear anybody that does not speak with his 
 mouth toward heaven."
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY.
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 ON a white marble cross in Eversley churchyard, Eng- 
 land, under a spray of the passion-flower, are the Latin 
 words, " Amavimus, Amamus, Amabimus" (we have 
 loved, we love, we shall love) ; and above them, around 
 the cross, " God is love." Those were the words chosen 
 by the famous preacher and author ; and they were the 
 key-note of the life of one who lived for his people. 
 
 Charles Kingsley, the son of a minister, was born at 
 Holne Vicarage, Devonshire, England, June 12, 1819. 
 Of his father, he wrote in 1805, " He was a magnificent 
 man in body and mind, and was said to possess every 
 talent except that of using his talents. My mother, on 
 the contrary, had a quite extraordinary practical and ad- 
 ministrative power ; and she combines with it, even at 
 her advanced age (seventy-nine), my father's passion for 
 knowledge, and the sentiment and fancy of a young girl." 
 
 From his father, Charles seems to have inherited his 
 love of art, natural history, and athletic sports ; from 
 his mother, his love of poetry and romance, and the force 
 and originality which made him a marked character in 
 his town and nation. 
 
 When four years of age, he used to make a pulpit in 
 his nursery, arrange the chairs for a congregation, and 
 preach as follows, his mother taking down the words un- 
 observed: "It is not right to fight. Honesty has no 
 
 261
 
 262 CIIARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 chance against stealing. We must follow God, and not 
 follow the Devil ; for if we follow the Devil, we shall go 
 into that everlasting fire, and if we follow God, we shall 
 go to heaven." His poems at this time were remark- 
 able for a child. 
 
 He studied and loved nature, and delighted in sunsets, 
 rocks, flowers, and the wonders of the sea. At Clovelly, 
 whither the rector had moved his family, Charles found 
 great delight in the study of shells, and in the company 
 of the warm-hearted fishermen. But for this early asso- 
 ciation, it is probable that the beautiful song of the 
 " Three Fishers " would never have been written. 
 
 When the lad was twelve years old he was sent, with 
 his brother Herbert, to a preparatory school at Clifton, 
 under the Rev. John Knight. Here he showed an affec- 
 tionate and gentle nature, only excited to anger when 
 the servant swept away the precious shells and grasses 
 collected in his walks on the Downs. 
 
 Afterwards he and Herbert were sent to the grammar 
 school at Helston, which was in charge of the Rev. 
 Derwent Coleridge, son of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 
 Here he became the intimate friend of Richard Cowley 
 Powles, afterwards fellow and tutor of Exeter College, 
 Oxford. 
 
 Mr. Powles wrote of his friend later, " Of him, more 
 than of most men who have become famous, it may be 
 said, ' The boy was father of the man.' The vehement 
 spirit, the adventurous courage, the love of truth, the 
 impatience of injustice, the quick and tender sympathy, 
 that distinguished the man's entrance on public life, 
 were all in the boy. . . . For botany and geology he 
 had an absolute enthusiasm. . . . He liked nothing 
 better than to sally out, hammer in hand and his botani-
 
 CUARLES KINGSLEY. 263 
 
 cal tin slung round las neck, on some long expedition in 
 quest of new plants, and to investigate the cliffs within 
 a few miles of Helston, dear to every geologist." 
 
 " In manner," says the Rev. Mr. Coleridge, " he was 
 strikingly courteous, and thus, with his wide and ready 
 sympathies and bright intelligence, was popular alike 
 with tutor, schoolfellows, and servants." 
 
 Kingsley always regretted that he did not go to school 
 at Rugby, as he thought nothing " but a public school 
 education would have overcome his constitutional shy- 
 ness." 
 
 The Kingsley family removed to Chelsea when Charles 
 was seventeen, and he became a day student at King's 
 College. Two years later, in 1838, he went to Magdalene 
 College, Cambridge, where he stood first in classics and 
 mathematics at the examinations. For his prize he 
 selected a fine edition of Plato in eleven volumes. 
 
 In the summer of 1839, July 6, when he was twenty, 
 he met Fanny, daughter of Pascoe Grenfell, whom he 
 afterwards married. " That was my real wedding-day," 
 he said years later. At that time his mind was full of 
 religious doubt, and he was far from happy. The young 
 lady proved a most valuable intellectual and spiritual 
 helper; and after tAvo months of companionship, when 
 he returned to Cambridge, she loaned him many books 
 and wrote him letters which proved a life-long blessing. 
 Carlyle's " French Revolution " had a great effect upon his 
 mind, in establishing his belief in God's righteous gov- 
 ernment of the world; also Maurice's "Kingdom of 
 Christ," to which he said he owed more than to any 
 book he had ever read. 
 
 Young Kingsley was at this time robust in health, 
 able to walk from Cambridge to London, fifty -two miles,
 
 264 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 starting early and reaching the latter city at nine P.M. 
 For many years he delighted in a country walk of twenty 
 or twenty-five miles. 
 
 In 1841, after the struggle through which most per- 
 sons pass before deciding upon a life-work, he gave 
 himself to the ministry, rather than to the law, for 
 which his name had been entered at Lincoln's Inn. He 
 wrote to Fanny, June 12, 
 
 " My birth-night. I have been for the last hour on 
 the seashore, not dreaming, but thinking deeply and 
 strongly, and forming determinations which are to affect 
 my destiny through time and through eternity. Before 
 the sleeping earth, and the sleepless sea and stars, I 
 have devoted myself to God ; a vow never (if He gives 
 me the faith I pray for) to be recalled." 
 
 After taking honors at Cambridge, and reading for 
 Holy Orders, he began to write the life of 'Ms ideal 
 saint, St. Elizabeth of Hungary, for his intended wife, 
 if, indeed, he should e"ver win her. 
 
 The curacy of Eversley was offered him, and he 
 accepted it at twenty-three. The fir-trees on the rectory 
 lawn were a great comfort. He wrote to Fanny, " Those 
 delicious self-sown firs ! Every step I wander they 
 whisper to me of you, the delicious past melting into 
 the more delicious future." 
 
 But from the opposition of friends the correspondence 
 was broken, and for a year the hard parish work was 
 carried on alone. In his parting letter to her he says, 
 urging her to practise music, " Music is such a vent for 
 the feelings. . . . Study medicine. ... I am studying 
 it. ... Make yourself thoroughly acquainted with the 
 wages, wants, and habits and prevalent diseases of the 
 poor, wherever you go. ...
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 265 
 
 " I have since nine this morning cut wood for an hour ; 
 spent an hour and more in prayer and humiliation . . . 
 written six or seven pages of a difficult part of my essay ; 
 taught in the school ; thought over many things while 
 walking ; gone round two-thirds of the parish visiting 
 and doctoring, and written all this." . . . 
 
 The young curate lived in a thatched cottage, and 
 found a remedy for his loneliness in hard work. The 
 church services had been neglected, and the ale-houses 
 were preferred on Sunday to the house of worship. There 
 were no schools for the children worthy of the name, 
 and the minister had to be teacher as well as preacher. 
 
 Finally the long silence was broken, and Kingsley 
 wrote again to his Fanny, " I have been making a fool 
 of myself for the last ten minutes, according to the 
 world's notion of folly ; for there have been some stroll- 
 ing fiddlers under the window, and I have been listen- 
 ing and crying like a child. Some quick music is so 
 inexpressively mournful. It seems just like one's own 
 feelings, exultation and action, with the remembrance 
 of past sorrow wailing up. . . . Let us never despise 
 the wandering minstrel ! . . . And who knows what 
 tender thoughts his own sweet music stirs within him, 
 though he eat in pot-houses and sleep in barns ! " 
 
 Again he wrote, looking forward to the home they 
 would some time have together, " We will hunt out all 
 the texts in the Hible about masters and servants, to 
 form rules upon them. . . . Our work must be done by 
 praying for our people, by preaching to them, . . . and 
 by setting them an example, an example in every look, 
 word, and motion ; in the paying of a bill, the hiring 
 of a servant, the reproving of a child." 
 
 He carried out his Christian principles in his relations
 
 266 CHARLES K1NGSLEY. 
 
 with his employees. At his death all the servants in 
 his house had lived with him from seventeen to twenty- 
 six years. 
 
 Early in 1844 Kingsley, then twenty-five, was married 
 to the woman he loved, and the curate became the rector 
 at Eversley. The house was damp, from the rain flood- 
 ing the rooms on the ground floor, and the land required 
 much drainage. But the happy husband was full of 
 energy, and set to work to make the place habitable and 
 attractive. 
 
 At once the young preacher established among the 
 laborers a shoe-club, coal-club, loan-fund, and lending- 
 library. A school for adults was held at the rectory 
 three nights a week all through the winter ; a class in 
 music; a Sunday-school met there every Sunday morn- 
 ing and afternoon ; and in the outlying districts weekly 
 lectures were held at the cottages for the aged and 
 feeble. None of the grown-up men and women among 
 the laborers could read or write, and the minister became 
 their devoted teacher. He taught them to love the 
 nature he loved, the flowers, trees, birds, and ever- 
 changing sky. He visited the poor, the sick, and the 
 dying, and soon became the idol of his people. He fed 
 their minds as well as their souls ; he knew, as so few 
 really know, the all-important work which the pastor 
 has committed to his hands. No wonder that London 
 and England, and America finally, heard of this model 
 preacher, and came to love him. 
 
 The year after his marriage, 1845, was saddened by 
 the death of his brother, Lieut. Gerald Kingsley, in 
 Torres Straits, on board Her Majesty's ship Royalist. 
 All the officers and half the crew died of fever. His 
 brother Herbert had died of heart-disease in 1834, when 
 they were boys together at school.
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 267 
 
 The drama of " St. Elizabeth " was now finished ; and in 
 1847 the young preacher started for London, on a seri- 
 ous mission, to find a publisher. He read the poem to 
 his noble friend, Mr. Maurice, who wrote a preface for 
 it; and to Coleridge, who gave him a commendatory 
 letter to a publisher. The poem met the usual fate, 
 declined with thanks. 
 
 He wrote his wife, "I am now going to Parker's in 
 the Strand. I am at once very happy, very lonely, and 
 very anxious. How absence increases love ! It is posi- 
 tively good sometimes to be parted, that one's affection 
 may become conscious of itself, and proud and humble 
 and thankful accordingly." . . . 
 
 Later he wrote to Mr. Powles, "'St. Elizabeth' is in 
 the press, having been taken off my hands by the heroic 
 magnanimity of Mr. J. Parker, West Strand, who, though 
 a burnt child, does not dread the fire. No one else would 
 have it." 
 
 Having earned a little money by extra Sunday services 
 at Pennington, he took his wife and his two small chil- 
 dren, Kose and Maurice, for a six weeks' holiday to the 
 seaside, near the edge of the New Forest. Here, revel- 
 ling in the scenery, he wrote several ballads. 
 
 When the drama " The Saints' Tragedy " was pub- 
 lished, it was fiercely attacked by the High Church 
 party at Oxford. In Germany it was read and liked, 
 and Chevalier Bunsen wrote heartily in praise of it. 
 
 When Kingsley, now twenty-nine, went for a few 
 weeks to Oxford, to visit his friend. Mr. Powles, Fellow 
 of Exeter, he received much attention on account of his 
 book. He wrote to his wife, ' They got up a meeting 
 for me, and the club was crowded with men merely to 
 see poor me, so I found out afterwards : very lucky that
 
 268 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 I did not know it during the process of being trotted 
 out. It is very funny and new. . . . Froude gets more 
 and more interesting. We had such a conversation this 
 morning! the crust is breaking, and the man coining 
 through that cold, polished shell. My darling babies ! 
 kiss them very much for me." 
 
 The parish work at Eversley increased month by 
 month. A writing-class for girls was held in the empty 
 coach-house, and a cottage school for infants was begun. 
 He wrote his first article for Fra set's Magazine on 
 Popery. He preached to his congregation on the topics 
 of the day, emigration, and the political and social dis- 
 turbances of the time. He was, in fact, what a preacher 
 should be, a leader of the people. 
 
 He accepted the professorship of English literature 
 and composition at Queen's College, Harley Street, of 
 which Mr. Maurice was president, and went up to Lon- 
 don once a week to lecture. He became the devoted 
 friend of Thomas Hughes, author of "School Days at 
 Rugby ; " of Bishop Stanley of Norwich and his distin- 
 guished son, Dean Stanley, and of many others. 
 
 During this year, 1847-48, on account of great distress 
 among the people, there were riots in London and in 
 other large cities. The troops were called out under 
 Wellington to disperse the Chartists, who demanded a 
 "People's Charter" from Parliament, with more rights 
 for the laborers. 
 
 Kingsley threw himself heartily into the conflict. He 
 wrote a conciliatory letter to the " Workmen of Eng- 
 land," which was posted up in London. 
 
 " You say that you are wronged. Many of you are 
 wronged, and many besides yourselves know it. Almost 
 all men who have heads and hearts know it above all,
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 269 
 
 the working clergy know it. They go into your houses ; 
 they see the shameful filth and darkness in which you 
 are forced to live crowded together ; they see your chil- 
 dren growing up in ignorance and temptation, for want 
 of fit education ; they see intelligent and well-read men 
 among you, shut out from a freeman's just right of vot- 
 ing; and they see, too, the noble patience and self-control 
 with which you have as yet borne these evils. They 
 see it, and God sees it." 
 
 And then he urges them "to turn back from the preci- 
 pice of riot, which ends in the gulf of universal distrust, 
 stagnation, starvation. . . . Workers of England, be 
 wise, and then you must be free ; for you will be fit to 
 be free." 
 
 For four years, 1848-52, he wrote for three periodicals, 
 Politics for the People, The Christian Socialist, and the 
 Journal of Association. 
 
 Many friends and relations begged him to desist from 
 fighting the battles of the people, as such sympathy 
 " was likely to spoil his prospects in life." But he wrote 
 his wife in reference to this matter, " I will not be a 
 liar. I will speak in season and out of season. I will 
 not shun to declare the whole counsel of God. . . . My 
 path is clear, and I will follow in it. He who died for 
 me, and who gave me you, shall I not trust Him through 
 whatsoever new and strange paths He may lead me '.' " 
 
 He always i'elt " that the party-walls of rank and 
 fashion and money were but a paper prison of our own 
 making, which we might break through any moment by 
 a single hearty and kindly feeling." 
 
 In the autumn of 1848, while writing <k Yeast," a 
 novel which was first published in Fraser's Magazine, 
 doing the work at night, when his other duties were fin-
 
 270 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 ished and the house was still, he broke down, and for 
 months was unable to do more than walk along the sea- 
 shore and gather shells, even conversation being too 
 exhausting for him. 
 
 Friends came to show their sympathy and fondness 
 for the great-hearted man among them Mr. Fronde, 
 who met Charlotte, the sister of Mrs. Kingsley, and 
 married her. 
 
 Returning to the work at Eversley, where a low fever 
 had broken out among the people, and where it was 
 almost impossible to obtain nurses, Kingsley cared for 
 the sick, watching all night with a laborer's wife, the 
 mother of a large family, that she might receive nourish- 
 ment every half-hour, and soon broke down again, and 
 was obliged to go to Devonshire. 
 
 On his return to Eversley, cholera had once more ap- 
 peared in England, and early and late he carried on a 
 crusade against dirt and bad drainage. 
 
 As his means were limited, he usually took two or 
 more pupils to fit them for the ministry ; and now began 
 his "Alton Locke," the autobiography of a tailor and a 
 poet, in the interest of workingmen. " God grant," he 
 says in the preface, "that the workmen of the South of 
 England may bestir themselves ere it be too late, and 
 discover that the only defence against want is self- 
 restraint." He urges that they " organize among them- 
 selves associations for buying and selling the necesstaries 
 of life, which may enable them to weather the dark 
 season of high prices and stagnation, which is certain, 
 sooner or later, to follow in the footsteps of war." 
 
 To write this book, he got up at five every morning 
 and worked till breakfast, devoting the rest of the day 
 to his sermons, his pupils, and the various schools and
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 271 
 
 societies of his parish. " His habit," says his wife, in 
 her life of Kingsley, " was thoroughly to master his sub- 
 ject, whether book or sermon, always out in the open air, 
 in his garden, on the moor, or by the side of a lonely 
 trout stream ; and never to put pen to paper till the ideas 
 were clothed in words. . . . For many years his writ- 
 ing was all done by his wife, from his dictation, while he 
 paced up and down the room." 
 
 When " Alton Locke " was finished, the old difficulty 
 of finding a publisher began. Messrs. Parker, who had 
 brought out " Yeast," which had caused much theologi- 
 cal discussion, refused to take another book. Finally, 
 through the influence of Carlyle, Messrs. Chapman & 
 Hall were induced to bring it out. 
 
 The press, as in the case of " Yeast," was severe on 
 " Alton Locke ; " but brave Thomas Carlyle wrote Kings- 
 ley to " pay no attention at all to the foolish clamor of 
 reviewers, whether laudatory or condemnatory." 
 
 Kingsley's correspondence increased day by day. One 
 person wrote about going over to the Romish Church ; 
 another about his atheistic doubts ; another desired to 
 reform his life ; and others asked advice on almost num- 
 berless matters. 
 
 To an atheist, who was later converted under Kings- 
 ley, he wrote, " As for helping you to Christ, I do not 
 believe I can one inch. I see no hope but in prayer, in 
 going to Him yourself, in saying, Lord, if Thou art there, 
 if Thou art at all, if this all be not a lie, fulfil Thy re- 
 puted promises, and give me peace and a sense of for- 
 giveness." 
 
 Kingsley would say to his wife, as a letter was an- 
 swered, or another chapter of a book finished, " Thank 
 God, one more thing done ! and oh, how blessed it will
 
 272 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 be when it is all over, to lie down in that dear church- 
 yard ! " The work of the great world, with all its 
 sorrows, had tired Kingsley at thirty-two. 
 
 " Hypatia," one of the novels which will last for centu- 
 ries, was begun in 1851. He writes to the Rev. Mr. 
 Maurice in January, "If I do not use my pen to the 
 uttermost in earning my daily bread, I shall not get 
 through this year. . . . My available income is less 
 than 400. I cannot reduce my charities, and I am 
 driven either to give up my curate or to write ; and 
 either of these alternatives, with the increased parish 
 work, for I have got either lectures or night school every 
 night in the week, and three services on Sunday, will 
 demand my whole time." 
 
 As to " Hypatia," he writes, " My idea in the romance 
 is to set forth Christianity as the only really democratic 
 creed, and philosophy, above all, spiritualism, as the 
 most exclusively aristocratic creed." 
 
 In October he writes to a friend, " ' Hypatia ' grows, 
 little darling, and I am getting very fond of her." 
 
 When the book was published in 1853, two years after 
 it was begun, it aroused most bitter criticism from a 
 portion of the English Church. But no adverse criticism 
 could prevent its being read and loved by the people of 
 two continents. Thirty years later it had gone through 
 thirteen editions. 
 
 Our own Whittier wrote Mrs. Kingsley, after her hus- 
 band's death, " My copy of his ' Hypatia ' is worn by fre- 
 quent perusal, and the echoes of his rare and beautiful 
 lyrics never die out of my memory. But since I have 
 seen him, the man seems greater than the authoj. . . . 
 His heart seemed overcharged with interest in the wel- 
 fare, physical, moral, and spiritual, of his race. I was
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 273 
 
 conscious in his presence of the bracing atmosphere of a 
 noble nature. He seemed to me one of the manliest of 
 men." 
 
 No man could have drawn that masterful picture of 
 the beautiful maid of Alexandria, philosopher, mathema- 
 tician, teacher, and leader of her time, who had not the 
 greatest reverence for woman, and a belief in her mar- 
 vellous power. Such a man could never limit the sphere 
 of woman by any human barriers. He said to a friend 
 that his aim was, in every book he wrote, to set forth 
 " woman as the teacher, the natural, and therefore divine, 
 guide, purifier, iuspirer of the man." 
 
 One learns to love the brilliant Hypatia, as did the 
 monk, Philammon, and the Jew, Raphael Aben-Ezra, 
 and shudders when she is torn in pieces about the age of 
 forty by the mob. 
 
 The book holds one spell-bound from beginning to end, 
 and many another copy besides that of Whittier " is 
 worn by frequent perusal." 
 
 Mr. C. Kegan Paul, the London publisher, was staying 
 at the home of the Kingsleys when much of " Hypatia " 
 was written. "I was struck," he says, speaking of the 
 author, " not only with his power of work, but with the 
 extraordinary pains he took to be accurate in detail. 
 We spent one whole day in searching the four folio 
 volumes of Synesius for a fact he thought was there, 
 and which was found there at last. " When I have done 
 'Hypatia,'" he writes Mr. Ludlow, "I will write no 
 more novels. I will write poetry not as a profession, 
 but I will keep myself for it; and I do think I shall do 
 something that will live. I feel my strong faculty is 
 that sense of form, which, till I took to poetry, always 
 came out in drawing, drawing; but poetry is the true
 
 274 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 sphere, combining painting and music and history all in 
 one." 
 
 "At that time," says a friend, "in his books and pam- 
 phlets, and often in his daily, familiar speech, he was 
 pouring out the whole force of his eager, passionate 
 heart in wrath and indignation against starvation wages, 
 stifling workshops, reeking alleys, careless landlords, 
 roofless and crowded cottages. . . . No human being 
 but was sure of a patient, interested hearer in him. I 
 have seen him seat himself, hatless, beside a tramp on 
 the grass outside of his gate in his eagerness to catch 
 exactly what he had to say, searching him, as they sat, 
 in his keen, kindly way with question and look." 
 
 About the time of the opening of the Great Exhibi- 
 tion, so dear to the heart of the noble Prince Albert, 
 Kingsley was asked to preach a sermon to workingmen 
 in a London church near by, which he did with great 
 sympathy arid tenderness. Just as the blessing was to 
 be pronounced, the clergyman who had invited Kingsley 
 rose and remarked that it was his painful duty to say 
 that he believed much of what Mr. Kingsley had said 
 " was dangerous and untrue." 
 
 Kingsley, wounded beyond expression, quietly left the 
 church, and a riot of the workmen was with difficulty 
 prevented. That night in his sadness and exhaustion 
 he wrote that immortal song of the " Three Fishers," 
 which seemed to soothe and rest him. 
 
 " Three fishers went sailing out, into the west, 
 
 Out into the west as the sun went down: 
 Eacli thought of the woman who loved him the hest, 
 
 And the children stood watching them out of the town; 
 For men must work and women must weep, 
 And there's little to earn, and many to keep, 
 
 Though the harhor bar be moaning.
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 275 
 
 Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower, 
 
 And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down ; 
 
 They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower, 
 And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown. 
 
 But men must work and women must weep, 
 
 Though storms be sudden and waters deep, 
 And the harbor bar be moaning. 
 
 Three corpses lay out on the shining sands, 
 
 In the morning gleam as the tide went down; 
 And the women are weeping and wringing their hands, 
 
 For those that will never come back to the town. 
 For men must work and women must weep, 
 And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep, 
 
 And good-by to the bar and its moaning." 
 
 The winter and spring of 1854 were spent at Torquay, 
 Mrs. Kingsley having become ill from the damp rectory 
 at Eversley. Mr. Kingsley also had become worn in 
 mind and body from the constant attacks of the religious 
 press against his supposed liberal views. He and his 
 children passed happy days along the seashore, gathering 
 specimens to send to the scientist, Mr. H. P. Gosse, in 
 London, and collecting materials for his articles in the 
 North British Review on " The Wonders of the Shore.'' 
 Before leaving Torquay he made a list of about sixty 
 species of Mollusks, Annelides, Crustacea, and Polypes 
 found on the shore, nearly all new to him. 
 
 In February he made his first visit to Scotland, to 
 deliver before the Philosophical Institute at Edinburgh 
 four lectures on the " Schools of Alexandria." He writes 
 to his wife, "The lecture went off well. 1 was dread- 
 fully nervous, and actually cried with fear up in my room 
 beforehand ; but after praying I recovered myself, and got 
 through it very well, being much cheered and clapped."
 
 276 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 When his wife was saddened on account of debts in- 
 curred through illness, Mr. Kingsley cheered her with 
 his brave heart. " To pay them," he said, " I have 
 thought, I have written, I have won for us a name 
 which, please God, may last among the names of English 
 writers. ... So out of evil God brings good ; or, rather, 
 out of necessity He brings strength . . . and the mean- 
 est actual want may be the means of calling into actual 
 life the possible but sleeping embryo of the very noblest 
 faculties." 
 
 In the winter of 1851 Kingsley wrote " Brave Words 
 to Brave Soldiers," several thousand copies of which 
 were distributed among the suffering soldiers before 
 Sebastopol in the Crimea ; also his novel, " Westward 
 Ho!" 
 
 Many letters of appreciation came after the publica- 
 tion of this book. A naval officer Avrote from Hong 
 Kong, " Among the many blessings for which I have 
 had to thank God this night, the most special has been 
 for the impression-s produced by your noble sermon of 
 ' Westward Ho ! ' Some months ago I read it for the 
 first time, then sailed on a long cruise ; and now on 
 returning have read it again with prayer that has been 
 answered, for God's blessing has gone with it." 
 
 Kingsley gave lectures in London before the Working 
 Men's College, and a series to women interested in labor- 
 ers. To the latter he said, " Instead of reproving and 
 fault-finding, encourage. In God's name encourage ! 
 They scramble through life's rocks, bogs, and thorn- 
 brakes clumsily enough, and have many a fall, poor 
 things ! " 
 
 As to teaching boys, he said, " It will be a boon to 
 your own sex, as well as to ours", to teach them courtesy,
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 277 
 
 self-restraint, reverence for physical weakness, admira- 
 tion of tenderness and gentleness ; and it is one which 
 only a lady can bestow. . . . There is a latent chivalry, 
 doubt it not, in the heart of every untutored clod." 
 
 In the summer of 1856, when he was thirty-seven, 
 Kingsley spent a happy vacation with Mr. Thomas 
 Hughes and Mr. Tom Taylor at Sno\vdon, Wales, which 
 resulted in the writing of " Two Years Ago." 
 
 In June, 1857, Kingsley writes to his friend Thomas 
 Hughes, " Eight and thirty years old am I this day, 
 Thomas, whereof twenty-two Avere spent in pain, in 
 woe, and vanities, and sixteen in very great happiness, 
 such as few men deserve, and I don't deserve at all. . . . 
 Well, Tom, God has been very good to me. . . . The 
 best work ever I've done has been my plain parish 
 work." 
 
 Diphtheria, then a new disease in England, appeared 
 at Eversley. " Some might have smiled," says Mrs. 
 Kingsley, at seeing her husband " going in and out of 
 the cottages with great bottles of gargle under his 
 arm." 
 
 The earnest preaching, the lectures, the books and 
 correspondence, continued. Many guests came now to 
 Eversley, Harriet Beecher Stowe and others from 
 America, where his literary work seemed at first more 
 appreciated than at home ; Miss Bremer, the Swedish 
 novelist, who after she went home sent him Tegner's 
 " Frithiofs Saga," with this inscription: "To the Viking 
 of the New Age, Charles Kingsley. this story of the 
 Vikings of the Old, from a daughter of the Vikings, his 
 friend and admirer, Fredrika Bremer.'' 
 
 Dean Stanley came ; Max M tiller also, and spent the 
 first week of his married life at the rectory he had
 
 278 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 married a beloved niece of Kingsley's, the G. to whom 
 he wrote the poem, 
 
 " A hasty jest I once let fall." 
 
 When Kingsley was forty, he preached for the first 
 time before the Queen and Prince Albert at Buckingham 
 Palace, and was soon made one of Her Majesty's chap- 
 lains. He preached at the Chapel Royal, St. James's, 
 and before the Court in the private chapel at Windsor 
 Castle. From this time onward he received the utmost 
 consideration and appreciation from the royal household. 
 Having been made Professor of Modern History at Cam- 
 bridge, which position he filled admirably for nine years, 
 he was requested by the Prince Consort to give private 
 lectures to the Prince of Wales, who had just left Oxford. 
 The Prince came to Mr. Kingsley's house three times a 
 week, twice with the class, and every Saturday to go 
 over the week's work alone. 
 
 Every now and then Mr. Kingsley, from his ardent 
 nature, broke down from overwork. Then he would go 
 with his wife to the Isle of Wight to see Tennyson and 
 his wife, or with James Anthony Fronde to Ireland. 
 
 Death was beginning to enter the family circle. His 
 father died in the winter of I860. He wrote Mr. 
 Maurice, " How every wrong word and deed toward 
 that good old man, and every sorrow I caused him, rise 
 up in judgment against one; and how one feels that 
 right-doing does not atone for wrong-doing." 
 
 In the spring Charlotte, Mrs. Kingsley's sister, the 
 wife of Fronde, was laid under the fir-trees in Eversley 
 churchyard. "Her grave," says Mrs. Kingsley, "was to 
 him during the remainder of his own life a sacred spot, 
 where he would go almost daily to commune in spirit
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEy. 279 
 
 with the dead, where flowers were always kept blooming, 
 and where on the Sunday morning he would himself 
 superintend the decorations, the cross and wreaths of 
 choice flowers placed by loving hands upon it. Prince 
 Albert died in 1861, a great personal loss to Kingsley, as 
 to all England. 
 
 In the spring of 1862 "The Water-babies" was written, 
 and dedicated to his youngest son, Grenville Arthur, 
 then four years old, named after his godfather, Dean 
 Stanley, and Sir Richard Grenvil, one of the heroes of 
 " Westward Ho ! " from Avhom Mrs. Kingsley's family 
 claimed descent. 
 
 The strange experiences of poor little Tom, the chim- 
 ney-sweep, after he left the hard work in the chimneys, 
 under his brutal master, Grimes, to enjoy the wonders of 
 the sea, as a water-baby, are most amusing and graphic. 
 The book has always had a great circulation. 
 
 Three years after this, Queen Emma of the Hawaiian 
 Islands spent two days at the Eversley Rectory. She 
 said to Mrs. Kingsley, "It is so strange to me to be 
 staying with you and to see Mr. Kingsley. My husband 
 read your husband's ' Water-babies ' to our little prince." 
 On her return she sent to Mr. Kingsley the Prayer 
 Book in Hawaiian, translated by her husband, King 
 Kamehameha IV. 
 
 Kingsley did not forget how hard it had been for an 
 unknown author to find a publisher. Mr. Charles Henry 
 Bennett, a man of genius, but struggling with poverty, 
 had illustrated "Pilgrim's Progress," but could get no one 
 to take it. Kingsley wrote a preface, and Messrs. Long- 
 man at once undertook to bring it out. Thus did the 
 noble man help artist and author, tramp and sick laborer, 
 seeker after knowledge or after the comfort of the gospel.
 
 280 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 In 1863 Kingsley was made a Fellow of the Geological 
 Society, proposed by his friend Sir Charles Bunbury, 
 and seconded by Sir Charles Lyell. He was already a 
 Fellow of the Linnean Society. His name was proposed 
 for the degree of D.C.L. at Oxford by the Prince of 
 Wales, but was withdrawn on account of opposition from 
 the extreme High Church party. 
 
 He now gave lectures to the boys at Wellington Col- 
 lege, to which his son Maurice had gone, and assisted 
 them in forming a museum ; he brought out a volume of 
 poems and one or two volumes of sermons. No wonder 
 he failed in health, and was obliged to go to France with 
 Froude, the latter going on into Spain for historical 
 work. 
 
 The labors of the devoted preacher and author in- 
 creased year after year. Impressed more than ever with 
 the monotonous life of the English laborer and his hard- 
 worked wife, Kingsley started Penny Readings for the 
 people, and village concerts, in which friends from 
 London helped. 
 
 He attended the national science meetings ; he preached 
 in Westminster Abbey ; he brought out a series of papers 
 for children on natural science, called " Madam How and 
 Lady Why ; " he read sixteen volumes of Comte's works 
 in preparation for his Cambridge lectures he had al- 
 ready given a course on the History of America. 
 
 In 1809 he was appointed Canon of Chester. Here he 
 started a class in botany, a walk and a field lecture 
 were enjoyed once a week by a hundred or more persons, 
 which has resulted in the Chester Natural History 
 Society, with about six hundred members. He also gave 
 many geological lectures. "The Soil of the Field," 
 " The Pebbles in the Street," " The Stones in the Wall,"
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 281 
 
 " The Coal in the Fire," " The Lime in the Mortar," 
 " The Slates on the Roof," were published in a book 
 called " Town Geology." How broadened would be the 
 minds of many in our congregations, especially the minds 
 of our young men and women, if more of our ministers 
 would teach the wonders of the world in which we live ! 
 
 Kingsley was made President of the Education Sec- 
 tion of the Social Science Congress at Bristol, and one 
 hundred thousand copies of his valuable inaugural ad- 
 dress were distributed. At this Congress he met Dr. 
 Elizabeth Blackwell from America, and she become a 
 welcome guest at Eversley. He was an ardent advocate 
 of medical education for women. 
 
 He wrote to John Stuart Mill that his " Subjection of 
 Woman " seemed to him " unanswerable and exhaustive, 
 and certain, from its moderation as well as from its bold- 
 ness, to do good service in this good cause." . . . 
 
 After a journey with his daughter to the West Indies, 
 from which came his book, "At Last," he returned to 
 his multifarious duties. As President of the Midland 
 Institute at Birmingham, he spoke on the Science of 
 Health. As a result, a manufacturer gave 2,500 to 
 found classes and lectures on Human Physiology and 
 the Science of Health, believing that physical improve- 
 ment would be followed by mental and moral improve- 
 ment. 
 
 In the spring of 1873 Mr. Gladstone, with the sanction 
 of the Queen, asked Kingsley to become Canon of West- 
 minster. His aged mother, now eighty-six, who had 
 made her home at Eversley since the death of her hus- 
 band, lived long enough to rejoice in his appointment to 
 the Abbey, and died April 16. 
 
 The Archbishop of Canterbury welcomed him heartily.
 
 282 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 " It is a great sphere," he wrote, " for a man who, like 
 you, knows how to use it." 
 
 But those who knew him best had grave fears that he 
 would not long fill the place. He was urged to make a 
 sea voyage, and with his daughter Kose started for 
 America in January, 1874, taking with him a few lectures, 
 to meet his expenses. 
 
 They landed Feb. 11, in New York. His daughter 
 wrote home to the anxious mother, " Before my father 
 set foot on American soil, he had a foretaste of the cor- 
 dial welcome and generous hospitality which he experi- 
 enced everywhere, without a single exception, throughout 
 the six months he spent in the United States and Can- 
 ada. The moment the ship warped into her dock, a 
 deputation from a literary club came on board, took 
 possession of us and our baggage." 
 
 Mr. Kingsley wrote home Feb. 12, " As for health, 
 this air, as poor Thackeray said of it, is like champagne. 
 Sea air and mountain air combined ; days already an hour 
 longer than in England, and a blazing hot sun and blue 
 sky. It is a glorious country, and I don't wonder at the 
 people being proud of it. ... I dine with the Lotus 
 Club on Saturday night, and then start for Boston with 
 It., to stay with Fields next week." 
 
 He took great interest in Salem and Cambridge. He 
 dined with Longfellow, Avhom he greatly admired. 
 "Dear old Whittier called on me, and we had a most 
 loving and like-minded talk about the other world," lie 
 writes home. "He is an old saint. This morning I 
 have spent chiefly with Asa Gray and his plants, so that 
 we are in good company." 
 
 In New York he met William Cullen Bryant; was en- 
 tertained by that considerate and lovely friend to every-
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 283 
 
 body, the late Mrs. Botta ; spoke in the Opera House 
 at Philadelphia to nearly four thousand persons, the 
 aisles crowded ; received cordial welcome from President 
 Grant, and from the scientific men at the Smithsonian 
 Institute in Washington ; talked with Charles Simmer an 
 hour before he was seized with his fatal illness ; visited 
 Mark Twain at Hartford, Conn. ; preached in Baltimore 
 to a large congregation ; stopped on his way West at 
 Niagara, where he longed for his wife " to sit with him, 
 and simply look on in silence whole days at the exquisite 
 beauty of form and color." 
 
 Then with a party of several English and Americans, 
 in a Pullman car, Kingsley and his daughter journeyed 
 to California. He preached at Salt Lake City to a 
 crowded congregation. The scenery everywhere de- 
 lighted him. " The flowers," lie wrote, "are exquisite, 
 yellow ribs over all the cliffs, etc., and make one long to 
 jump off the train every live minutes, while the geol- 
 ogy makes one stand aghast ; geologizing iu England is 
 child's play to this." 
 
 Again he preached iu the Yosemite. The Dean of 
 Westminster in the old Abbey said that Kingsley, "who 
 is able to combine the religious and scientific aspects of 
 nature better than any man living, is on this very day, 
 and perhaps at this very hour, preaching iu the most 
 beautiful spot on the face of the earth, where the glories 
 of nature are revealed on the most gigantic scale, iu 
 that wonderful California!! Valley, to whose trees the 
 cedars of Lebanon are but as the hyssop that growetl) out 
 of the wall, where water and forest and sky conjoin to 
 make up, if anywhere on the globe, an earthly paradise." 
 
 Mr. Kingsley was ill of pleurisy for some time in Cali- 
 fornia. He began to long for home. " 1 am very home-
 
 284 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 sick," he writes to his wife, " and counting the days till 
 I can get back to you." 
 
 He returned to Eversley in August, and, as there was 
 much sickness, began at once his self-sacrificing ministra- 
 tions. He preached his last sermon in the Abbey Nov. 
 29, with great fervor. Dec. 3 he and his wife went to 
 Eversley, where she was taken very ill. When told 
 that there was no hope for her, he said, " My own death- 
 warrant was signed Avith those words." 
 
 He cared for her tenderly, and on Dec. 28 was stricken 
 with pneumonia. He had been warned that he must not 
 leave his room, as a change of temperature would prove 
 fatal ; but one day he sprang out of bed, came to his 
 wife's room for a few moments, and, taking her hand in 
 his, said, " This is heaven, don't speak ; " but soon a 
 severe fit of coughing came on : he went back to his bed, 
 and they never met again. 
 
 A correspondence was kept up for a few days in 
 pencil, but this became too painful. Towards the last 
 he said, "No more fighting no more fighting," and 
 then he prayed earnestly. Again he murmured, " How 
 beautiful God is ! " 
 
 For two days he sent no messages to his wife, thinking 
 that she had gone before him. He said to the nurse who 
 cared for them both, " I, too, am come to an end ; it is 
 all right all as it should be" 
 
 His last words were the Burial Service, " Shut not 
 Thy merciful ears to our prayers . . . suffer us not, at 
 our last hour, from any pains of death, to fall from 
 Thee." On Jan. 23, 1875, without a struggle, his life 
 went out. 
 
 Dean Stanley telegraphed, " The Abbey is open to the 
 Canon and the Poet ; " but Kingsley had said, "Go where
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 285 
 
 I will in this hard-working world, I shall take care to get 
 my last sleep in Eversley churchyard ; " and under the 
 fir-trees he was buried. 
 
 A great crowd of all classes stood around that open 
 grave, and later, little children who had loved the 
 " Water-babies " came often and laid flowers upon the 
 mound. 
 
 "Few eyes were dry," says Max Mtiller, "when he 
 was laid in his own gravel bed, the old trees which he 
 had planted and cared for waving their branches to him 
 for the last time. . . . He will be mourned for, yearned 
 for, in every place in which he passed some days of his 
 busy life." 
 
 A Memorial Fund was at once raised by friends in 
 England and America. Eversley church was enlarged 
 and improved ; at Chester a prize was founded in con- 
 nection with the Natural History Society ; a marble 
 bust of him placed in the Cathedral Chapter-house, and 
 a stall restored in the Cathedral, which bears his name. 
 In Westminster Abbey a marble bust of Kingsley, by Mr. 
 Woolner, Avas unveiled Sept. 23, 1875, with appropriate 
 services. 
 
 Mrs. Kingsley survived her husband sixteen years, 
 dying at Leamington, Dec. 12, 1891, at the age of 
 seventy-seven. 
 
 Plis daughter Kose, and Mary who married the Rev. 
 William Harrison, are botli authors, the latter using the 
 name " Lucas Malet." Kingsley, himself, wrote thirty- 
 five volumes. 
 
 Charles Kingsley was as lovable in his home-life as he 
 was brilliant and noble in his public career. Said an 
 intimate friend of him, "To his wife so he never 
 shrank from affirming in deep and humble thankfulness
 
 286 CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 he owed the whole tenor of his' life, all that he had 
 worth living for. It was true. And his every word and 
 look and gesture of chivalrous devotion for more than 
 thirty years seemed to show that the sense of boundless 
 gratitude had become part of his nature, was never out 
 of the undercurrent of his thoughts." 
 
 His son-in-law, the Rev. Mr. Harrison, says, " Home 
 was to him the sweetest, the fairest, the most romantic 
 thing in life ; and there all that was best and brightest in 
 him shone with steady and purest lustre." 
 
 With his children he was like an elder brother. He 
 built them a little house, where they kept books and toys 
 and tea-things, and where he often joined them, bringing 
 some rare flower or insect to show them. He was 
 always cheerful with them and his aged mother. He 
 used to say, " I wonder if there is so much laughing in 
 any other home in England as in ours." 
 
 Corporal punishment was never allowed in his home. 
 " More than half the lying of children," he said, " is, I 
 believe, the result of fear, and the fear of punishment." 
 
 He was especially tender to animals. "His dog 
 Dandy," says his wife, " a fine Scotch terrier, was his 
 companion in all his parish walks, attended at the cot- 
 tage lectures and school lessons, and was his and the 
 children's friend for thirteen years. He lies buried 
 under the great fir-trees on the rectory lawn, with this 
 inscription on his gravestone, 'Fidcli Fideles;' and close 
 by, 'Sweep/ a magnificent black retriever, and ' Victor,' a 
 favorite Teckel given to him by the Queen, with which 
 he sat up during the two last suffering nights of the 
 little creature's life." 
 
 Cats, too, were his especial delight, a white one and a 
 black. "His love of animals," says Mrs. Kingsley,
 
 CHARLES KINGSLET. 287 
 
 " was strengthened by his belief in their future state 
 a belief which he held in common with John Wesley 
 and many other remarkable men. On the lawn dwelt a 
 family of natter-jacks (running toads), who lived on 
 from year to year in the same hole in the green bank, 
 which the scythe was never allowed to approach. He 
 had two little friends in a pair of sand-wasps, who lived 
 in a crack of the window in his dressing-room, one of 
 which he had saved from drowning in a hand-basin, tak- 
 ing it tenderly out into the sunshine to dry ; and every 
 spring he would look out eagerly for them or their chil- 
 dren, who came out of, or returned to, the same crack." 
 
 His guests were one day amused when his little girl 
 opened her hand and begged him to "look at this de- 
 lightful worm." 
 
 Mr. Harrison tells this characteristic incident. One 
 Sunday morning, in passing from the altar to the pulpit, 
 he disappeared, and was searching for something on the 
 ground, which lie carried into the vestry. It was found 
 later that he had discovered a beautiful butterfly, which, 
 being lame, he feared would be trodden upon. Thus 
 great in all little humanities was the great preacher of 
 Eversley and Westminster Abbey. 
 
 His life was like his own poem, 
 
 "Be good, sweet maid, and lot who will ho elever; 
 
 Do noble things, not dream them, all day long: 
 And so make life, death, and that vast forever, 
 One grand, sweet song."
 
 GENERAL 
 WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 
 
 TIKE Grant, Sherman was born in Ohio; the former 
 J J in a log house at Mt. Pleasant, 1822, the latter at 
 Lancaster, Feb. 8, 1820. 
 
 His ancestor, Edmund Sherman, came from Dedham, 
 England, to Massachusetts, with his three sons, in 1G34. 
 From his son Samuel, who was one of the original pro- 
 prietors of Woodbury, Conn., came the noted general, 
 through a line of ministers and lawyers. 
 
 The grandfather, Taylor Sherman, was a judge ill 
 Norwalk, Conn., and one of the commissioners appointed 
 by the State to go to Huron and Erie Counties, Ohio, to 
 settle some land matters with regard to the Indians. He 
 received two sections of land for his services. 
 
 His wife, Betsey, was a woman, says E. V. Smalley, in 
 the Century for January, 1884, " of uncommon strength 
 of character, who was always called on to give advice 
 in times of trouble to her whole circle of relatives 
 and descendants a strong-willed, intelligent, managing 
 woman. ... To Grandmother Betsey might be attrib- 
 uted the talent of the later members of the family." 
 
 Her son Charles, admitted to the bar at twenty, mar- 
 ried Mary Hoyt, and soon went to Lancaster, Ohio. He 
 returned in a year, and took his young wife and baby 
 
 288
 
 WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN.
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 289 
 
 over six hundred miles on horseback to the new home in 
 the West, where ten other children were born, the eleven 
 comprising six boys and five girls. 
 
 The third son, William, was named Tecumseh after 
 the famous Indian chief, who died at the battle of Tippe- 
 canoe. When the child was four years old, the father 
 was appointed a judge of the supreme court of Ohio, but 
 died suddenly in Lebanon while on the bench, after he 
 had held the position for five years. 
 
 Mrs. Sherman found her home full of children, with an 
 annual income of only two hundred and fifty dollars 
 with which to support them. Her husband had been 
 loved for his genial nature and his generous heart, so that 
 friends were not wanting to help the young mother bear 
 her burdens. 
 
 John, the now well-known senator, was sent to an 
 uncle in Mount Vernon, another to a friend in Cincinnati, 
 and Tecumseh to the home of the Hon. Thomas Ewing, 
 a prominent United States Senator from Ohio. 
 
 The lad of nine attended the village schools till he was 
 sixteen, when, through the influence of Mr. Ewing, he 
 entered the Military Academy at West Point. He* had 
 no love for warlike pursuits, but looked forward to 
 becoming a civil engineer in the far West. 
 
 He had all along cared for history, travel, and fiction, 
 but never especially for battles. He enjoyed out-door 
 sports, and long rambles with rod and gun. He studied 
 well while at West Point, standing high in drawing, 
 chemistry, mathematics, and philosophy, reaching the 
 sixth place in a class of forty-three at his graduation 
 in 1840. 
 
 He was never fond of display, and had no relish for 
 the minutiae of dress and drill. " Men who have success-
 
 290 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 
 
 fully conducted great campaigns, and fought great battles, 
 have not," says Mr. Smalley, " as a rule, taken much in- 
 terest in the polishing of buttons, or the exact alignment 
 of a company of troops." 
 
 Soon after graduating, young Sherman, tall, slender, 
 with auburn hair and hazel eyes, a second lieutenant in 
 the Third Artillery, was sent to Florida to keep in check 
 the Seminole Indians. After two winters he was trans- 
 ferred to Fort Moultrie, near Charleston, South Carolina, 
 as first lieutenant, where he remained for four years. 
 Here he enjoyed Southern hospitality, and learned the 
 character of the people and the topography of the coun- 
 try, both here and in Georgia. More than twenty years 
 later, this knowledge was invaluable when he fought his 
 battles at Atlanta and made his immortal March to the 
 Sea. 
 
 War with Mexico was threatening; and in 1840 Sher- 
 man was sent to New York, and afterwards to Ohio, as a 
 recruiting officer. When he heard of the battles of Palo 
 Alto and Resaca de la Palma, May 8 and 9, he was eager 
 to be at the front : recruiting, as he says in his memoirs, 
 while " his comrades were actually fighting, was intol- 
 erable." 
 
 He was soon ordered to California, which his company 
 reached, after a voyage of nearly two hundred days, by 
 way of Cape Horn. At Rio Janeiro, "the beauty of 
 whose perfect harbor words will not describe," they re- 
 mained for a week, and the young Ohio officer enjoyed 
 the delights of travel. He saw Dom Pedro and his Em- 
 press, the daughter of Louis Philippe of France, the 
 Palace, the Botanic Gardens, the Emperor's coffee plan- 
 tation, where the coffee-tree reminded him of " the red 
 haw-tree of Ohio; and the berries were somewhat like
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSELl SHERMAN. 291 
 
 those of the same tree, two grains of coffee being enclosed 
 in one berry." 
 
 At Cape Horn, " an island rounded like an oven, after 
 which it takes its name (ornos, oven)," they were followed 
 by Cape-pigeons and albatrosses of every color. At Val- 
 paraiso they remained ten days, and enjoyed large straw- 
 berries in November. The last of January, 1847, they 
 entered Monterey Bay, and saw live-oaks and low adobe 
 houses, with red-tiled roofs, amid dark pine-trees. 
 
 The camp was soon established, and some of their six 
 months' provisions hauled up the hillside in the old Mex- 
 ican carts with Avooden wheels, " drawn by two or three 
 pairs of oxen yoked by the horns." 
 
 They brought a saw-mill and a grist-mill with them to 
 the new country. Living was cheap, as cattle cost but 
 eight dollars and fifty cents for the best, or about two 
 cents a pound. 
 
 Sherman soon met Colonel Fremont, afterwards a can- 
 didate for the Presidency, General Kearney, and other 
 officers noted in those early days of California. San 
 Francisco was called Yerba Buena, and Sherman felt 
 almost insulted when asked if he wished to invest money 
 in land " in such a horrid place as Yerba Buena." 
 
 The best houses were single-story adobes ; the popula- 
 tion was about four hundred, mostly Kanakas, natives of 
 the Hawaiian Islands. 
 
 Sherman spent much time in hunting doer and boar in 
 the mountains back of the Carmel Mission, and could 
 often in a single day load a pack-mule with the goese 
 and ducks which he had shot. These geese would appear 
 in profusion as soon as the fall rains caused the young 
 oats to come up. 
 
 "The seasons in California," he writes, "are well
 
 292 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 
 
 marked. About October and November the rains begin, 
 and the whole country, plains and mountains, becomes 
 covered with a bright green grass, with endless flowers. 
 The intervals between the rains give the finest weather 
 possible. These rains are less frequent in March, and 
 cease altogether in April and May, when gradually the 
 grass dies and the whole aspect of things changes, first 
 to yellow, then to brown, and by midsummer all is burnt 
 up, and dry as an ash-leaf." 
 
 The " gold-fever" broke out in the spring of 1848. 
 Thomas Marshall found some placer-gold fifteen miles 
 above Mormon Island, in the bed of the American Fork 
 of the Sacramento River. He had worked for Captain 
 Sutter in his saw-mills, and seeing this gold in the tail- 
 race of the saw-mill, tried at first to keep it a secret, 
 after telling Sutter; but others soon found the yellow 
 metal, and not only California, but the whole civilized 
 world, was excited over the discovery. 
 
 Sutter's saw and grist mills soon went to decay. Men 
 earned fifty, a hundred, and sometimes thousands of dol- 
 lars a day, if they found a " pocket " of gold. Prices be- 
 came fabulous. Flour and bacon and other eatables sold 
 for a dollar a pound. A meal usually cost three dollars. 
 Miners slept at night on the ground. All day they 
 worked in cold water in the river-beds, their clothes wet; 
 but no complaints were heard. 
 
 Soldiers deserted from the coast to join the gold-dig- 
 gers. At one time six hundred ships were anchored at 
 San Francisco, and could not get away for lack of crews. 
 Sherman and his officers were obliged to pay three hun- 
 dred dollars a month for a servant, or go without, as their 
 own pay was but seventy dollars a month. Often they 
 did their own work. Sherman cooked, and Lieutenant
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEll SHERMAN. 293 
 
 Orel cleaned the dishes, but " was deposed as a scullion 
 because he would only wipe the tin plates with a tuft of 
 grass, according to the custom of the country," says Sher- 
 man ; " whereas, Warner insisted on having them washed 
 after each meal with hot water. Warner was, in. conse- 
 quence, promoted to scullion, and Ord become the hostler." 
 
 Twice Sherman and some other officers visited the 
 mines, being obliged to cross the Sacramento River in 
 an Indian dug-out canoe. The unwilling horses and 
 mules were driven into the water, following the one led 
 by the man in the canoe. When across, several of the 
 frightened creatures escaped into the woods, where they 
 were recovered and brought back by the Indians. 
 
 The winter of 1848-49 Avas a serious one to the thou- 
 sands of homeless men and women who had come to seek 
 their fortunes in the mountains. The president had made 
 the gold-finding the subject of a special message to Con- 
 gress, and emigrants were pouring into California by 
 land and by sea. Of course there was much hardship, 
 much disregard of law, and extremes of poverty and 
 wealth. 
 
 The winter of 1849-50 only deepened the distress. In 
 crossing the plains and mountains many animals of the 
 emigrants perished, and they themselves lacked food. 
 One hundred thousand dollars were used to buy flour, 
 bacon, etc., for these people, and men and mules were 
 sent out by General 1'ersifer F. Smith to meet and relieve 
 them. In San Francisco, after the long rains, Sherman* 
 says : " I have seen mules stumble in the streets and drown 
 in the liquid mud. Montgomery Street had been tilled up 
 with brush and clay, and I always dreaded to ride on 
 horseback along it, because the mud was so deep that a 
 horse's legs would become entangled in the brushes be-
 
 294 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEU SHERMAN. 
 
 low, and the rider was likely to be thrown, and drown in 
 the mud." 
 
 A room twenty by sixty feet for a store or gambling- 
 saloon rented for a thousand dollars a month. Sherman 
 took a share in a store, and thereby made fifteen hundred 
 dollars, which helped him to live with these exorbitant 
 prices. Later he made about six thousand dollars in 
 three lots in Sacramento.- 
 
 He returned East in January, 1850, on a leave of 
 absence for six months. His comrades had fought great 
 battles in Mexico, which he had not been able to share. 
 "I thought it the last and only chance in my day," he 
 writes, " and that my career as a soldier was at an end." 
 
 He visited his mother, then living at Mansfield, Ohio, 
 and on the 1st of May, 1850, married, after an engage- 
 ment of some years, Miss Ellen Boyle Ewing, daughter 
 of the man who had adopted him in his childhood. Mr. 
 Ewing was then Secretary of the Interior, and, of course, 
 the wedding, on Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, 
 was a brilliant one. President Taylor and his cabinet, 
 Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, and other leaders were pres- 
 ent. In the fall of 1851 Sherman was made a captain 
 in the Commissary Department, and ordered to St. Louis. 
 The following year he was sent to New Orleans, to which 
 city Mrs. Sherman went with her two children. 
 
 Seeing little prospect of advancement in the army, in 
 1853 Captain Sherman resigned his position, and became 
 manager of a bank in San Francisco, a branch of a house 
 in St. Louis. 
 
 On his way to California, when near the Pacific coast, 
 the ship Lewis struck on a reef, and all came near los- 
 ing their lives. Sherman, with his usual mastery over 
 circumstances, sat on the hurricane deck with the cap-
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 295 
 
 tain, and while others prayed, or called for help, waited 
 calmly, and Avas among the last to leave the ship. When 
 all were safely on the beach, he scrambled up the bluff, 
 and finally saw a schooner loaded with lumber, 011 which 
 he asked a passage to the city of San Francisco, that lie 
 might send help to the wrecked. 
 
 This schooner capsized, and Sherman found himself in 
 the water, mixed up with planks and ropes, steadily drift- 
 ing out to sea. He was finally picked up by a boat, and 
 as soon as possible he sent two steamers to the relief of 
 the passengers of the Lewis, which went to pieces the 
 night after they got off. 
 
 In the unsettled state of the country, the bank did 
 not prove a success, and was closed May 1, 1857. Mrs. 
 Sherman and her three children, Minnie, Lizzie, and 
 Willie, returned to Lancaster, Ohio. 
 
 For a time Sherman became agent in New York for 
 the St. Louis house ; but the latter failing in the financial 
 disturbances of the country, his business ventures seemed 
 at an end, and Sherman returned to Lancaster, July 28, 
 1858. 
 
 " I was then perfectly unhampered," he says, " but the 
 serious and greater question remained, what was I to do 
 to support my family, consisting of a wife and four chil- 
 dren, all accustomed to more than the average comforts 
 of life?" 
 
 Like General Grant, he had resigned from the regular 
 army that he might earn enough to support his family. 
 Banking had been no more successful than Grant's 
 leather business. 
 
 Two sons of Mr. Ewing had gone to Leavenworth, 
 Kansas, where they had bought some land, and opened a 
 law office. They offered Sherman a partnership, as he
 
 296 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEll StiERMAN. 
 
 had read law considerably. He accepted the position, 
 but soon found that he did not earn money enough, so 
 began to manage a farm, forty miles west of Leaven- 
 worth, for his father-in-law. 
 
 This not proving more remunerative than Grant's 
 farming, he offered himself to the army again in 1859, 
 feeling, that a sure, though small, amount was better for 
 his family than the uncertainties of business. He was 
 soon appointed the superintendent of a military college 
 about to be organized at Alexandria, Louisiana. 
 
 This position did not prove an easy one. The building 
 was a large and handsome one in the midst of four hun- 
 dred acres of pine-land, but there was not a table, chair, 
 or black-board ready for beginning. Sherman immedi- 
 ately engaged some carpenters, and went to work with 
 his usual energy. 
 
 Meantime, the slavery question bade fair to rend the 
 Union asunder. South Carolina seceded Dec. 20, I860, 
 and Mississippi soon after. In the middle of January, 
 1861, Sherman wrote to the Governor of the State: "If 
 Louisiana withdraw from the Federal Union, I prefer to 
 maintain my allegiance to the Constitution as long as 
 a fragment of it survives. ... I beg you to take im- 
 mediate steps to relieve me as superintendent, the mo- 
 ment the State determines to secede, for on no earthly ac- 
 count will I do any act or think any thought hostile to, or 
 in defiance of, the old Government of the United States." 
 
 Sherman soon came North and visited his brother, 
 Senator John Sherman. P>oth called upon Lincoln, and 
 the President asked the soldier "how the people of the 
 South were getting along." " They think," was the re- 
 ply of Sherman, " they are getting along swimmingly 
 they are preparing for war."
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 297 
 
 " Oh, well ! " said Lincoln, " I guess we'll manage to 
 keep house." 
 
 April 1, through the influence of friends, Sherman was 
 made President of the Fifth Street Railroad, in St. Louis, 
 at a salary of twenty-five hundred dollars a year, and 
 moved his family thither. Five days later, and six days 
 before the attack on S unite r, April 12, 1861, he .was 
 asked to accept the chief clerkship of the War Depart- 
 ment, with the promise that, when Congress met, he 
 should be made Assistant Secretary of War. This offer 
 he declined, as he had already moved his family to St. 
 Louis, and did not feel at liberty to change his position. 
 
 He wrote later to Simon Cameron, Secretary of War, 
 that he would not volunteer for three months, " Because," 
 said he, " I cannot throw my family on the cold charity 
 of the world," but for a three-years' call, good service 
 might be done. He was appointed Colonel of the Thir- 
 teenth Regular Infantry, May 14, 1861, and again his 
 family returned to Lancaster, Ohio. 
 
 The war feeling had been greatly intensified at the 
 North by the death of Colonel E. Elmer Ellsworth, a 
 young man of twenty-four, who had organized a body of 
 Zouaves in Chicago, and had escorted President Lincoln 
 to Washington. On May 24, when the Union forces 
 crossed into Virginia. Ellsworth's Zouaves occupied Alex- 
 andria. A part of the troops were proceeding towards 
 the centre of the town, when they saw a secession flag 
 flying from the Marshall House. 
 
 Ellsworth ascended to the roof and pulled it down. 
 The hotel keeper, James T. Jackson, shot him through 
 the heart, and attempted to shoot Private Francis E. 
 Brownell, who was with Ellsworth. Brownell at once 
 shot Jackson through the head.
 
 298 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 
 
 Brownell died at Washington, D.C., March 15, 1894. 
 
 The body of Colonel Ellsworth lay in state in the East 
 Room of the White House for several hours. President 
 Lincoln, and indeed the whole North, were deeply affected 
 by his death. 
 
 Mr Lincoln soon called for four hundred thousand men 
 and. four hundred million dollars, to carry on the war. 
 Two Confederate armies were already before Washington ; 
 one at Manassas Junction under General Beauregard, the 
 other at Winchester under General Joseph E. Johnston. 
 
 General Irvin S. McDowell, aged forty-three, of the 
 Mexican War soldiers, had command of the Union forces, 
 and Sherman held a brigade under him. The battle of 
 Bull Run, or Manassas, was fought Sunday, July 21, with 
 a loss on our side of 2,896, and on the Confederate of 
 1,982. Over thirty thousand men were in each army. 
 
 General John D. Imboden, in vol. 1 of that most inter- 
 esting and valuable series, " Battles and Leaders of the 
 Civil War," edited by Messrs. Johnson and Buel, tells 
 the following incident of " Stonewall " Jackson in this 
 battle. He had been wounded in the hand, but paid no 
 attention to it, binding it up with his handkerchief, say- 
 ing, " Only a scratch, a mere scratch," and galloped along 
 his line. Three days later General Imboden found him 
 at a little farm-house near Centreville. Jackson was 
 bathing his hand at sunrise, in spring water. It was 
 swollen and very painful. Mrs. Jackson had already 
 come to him. " General," said Imboden, " how is it that 
 you can keep so cool, and appear so utterly insensible 
 to danger, in such a storm of shell and bullets as rained 
 about you when your hand was hit ? " referring to the 
 Bull Run battle. 
 
 " Captain," he said, " my religious belief teaches me to
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEU SHERMAN. 299 
 
 feel as safe in battle as in bed. God has fixed the time 
 for my death. I do not concern myself about that, but 
 to be always ready, no matter when it may overtake me." 
 After a pause, he said, " Captain, that is the one way all 
 men should live, and then all would be equally brave." 
 
 Imboden apologized for the use of profanity on the 
 battle-field, and Jackson simply remarked, "Nothing can 
 justify profanity." 
 
 The men idolized Jackson, in part because he almost 
 always succeeded. They trusted him without question- 
 ing. " Where are you going ? " was once asked of some 
 of his troops. 
 
 "We don't know," was the reply, "but old Jack does." 
 
 " It is now generally admitted," says Sherman, "that it 
 [the Battle of Bull Hun] was one of the best planned bat- 
 tles of the war, but one of the worst fought. . . . Nearly 
 all of us for the first time then heard the sound of can- 
 non and muskets in anger, and saw the bloody scenes 
 common to all battles, with which we were soon familiar. 
 W T e had good organization, good men, but no cohesion, 
 no real dicipline, no respect for authority, no real knowl- 
 edge of war. Both armies were fairly defeated, and 
 whichever had stood fast, the other would have run." 
 
 Though the Union army retreated in great disorder, 
 and the North was saddened thereby, Sherman and some 
 others were made brigadier-generals for their bravery. 
 
 President Lincoln and Seward came to the Union 
 camps soon after the battle. Lincoln said, in his homely 
 fashion, "We heard that you had got over the big scare, 
 and we thought we would come over and see the 'boys.'" 
 
 lie stood up in the carriage and made a most feeling 
 address, telling them how much devolved upon them, and 
 how all looked for brighter days. When they began to
 
 300 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 
 
 cheer, he said, " Don't cheer, boys. I confess, I rather 
 like it myself; but Colonel Sherman here says it is not 
 military, and I guess we had better defer to his opinion." 
 
 A little later an officer who had attempted to go to 
 New York without leave, and whom Sherman had threat- 
 ened to shoot if he deserted at that critical time, ap- 
 proached the President, saying that he had a grievance, 
 and that Colonel Sherman had threatened to shoot 
 him. 
 
 With that rare good sense for which Lincoln was 
 famous, and knowing that his leaders must be supported 
 in authority, he bent over toward the aggrieved officer, 
 and said in a loud whisper, " Well, if I were you, and he 
 threatened to shoot, I would not trust him, for I believe 
 he would do it." Sherman afterwards thanked the Pres- 
 ident for his confidence. 
 
 Soon after this General Sherman was assigned to the 
 department of the Cumberland, under General Robert 
 Anderson, formerly at Fort Sumter. Anderson's health 
 failing, Sherman soon took his place. Mr. Cameron, Sec- 
 retary of War, having a consultation with Sherman, the 
 latter complained that he had only eighteen thousand 
 men, whereas two hundred thousand men were needed 
 to destroy all the opposition in the Mississippi Valley. 
 
 It soon came out in the papers that Sherman was 
 " crazy," as at that time the North seemed to have no 
 adequate idea of the immensity of the work in hand. 
 The succeeding years proved that Sherman was right in 
 his estimate of the power and purpose of the South in its 
 war against the Union. 
 
 Sherman was relieved by General Buell, and the " in- 
 sane " general was ordered to take charge of a Camp of 
 Instruction. Hurt by the cruel charge, he still performed
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 301 
 
 his duties "for a country and government," as lie said, 
 " worth fighting for, and dying for if need be." 
 
 Early in 1802 Grant had won some great victories at 
 Forts Henry and Donelson, on the Tennessee and Cum- 
 berland Rivers. The latter fort, under General Buck- 
 ner, surrendered Feb. 16, with sixty-five guns, seventeen 
 thousand six hundred small arms, and nearly fifteen 
 thousand troops. 
 
 Major-General Grant was now commanding the Army 
 of the Tennessee under Halleck, and Sherman was as- 
 signed to a division under Grant. The latter held about 
 the same " crazy" idea that Sherman held, that the 
 Southerners were hard and brave fighters, and would 
 never surrender till forced to it through exhaustion of 
 men and money. 
 
 The next great battle was at Shiloh, or Pittsburg 
 Landing, begun by the Confederates Sunday, April 0, 
 1862, and lasting two days. The first day our men were 
 driven back a mile with heavy loss. General Albert 
 Sidney Johnston, the commander-in-chief of the Con- 
 federates, was struck about 2 P.M. by a minie-ball in the 
 calf of the leg, which penetrated the boot and severed 
 the main artery. His horse was shot in four places. 
 He would not leave the field till compelled by loss of 
 blood, and died soon after. 
 
 Dr. I). AV. Yandell, who had been with Johnston, left 
 him to establish a hospital for the wounded, among them 
 many Federals. " These men were our enemies a mo- 
 ment ago," said Johnston ; " they are our prisoners now. 
 Take care of them." Had Yandell remained with him, 
 his life would probably have been saved, as the wound 
 would have been attended to. 
 
 " During the whole of Sunday," says Grant, " I was
 
 302 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 
 
 continually engaged in passing from one part of the field 
 to another, giving directions to division commanders. 
 In thus moving along the line, I never deemed it impor- 
 tant to stay long with Sherman. Although his troops 
 were then under fire for the first time, their commander, 
 by his constant presence with them, inspired a confidence 
 in officers and men that enabled them to render ser- 
 vices on that bloody battle-field worthy of the best of 
 veterans. 
 
 " A casualty to Sherman that would have taken him 
 from the field that day would have been a sad one for the 
 troops engaged at Shiloh. And IIOAV near we came to 
 this ! On the Gth, Sherman was shot twice once in the 
 hand, once in the shoulder, the ball cutting his coat .and 
 making a slight wound, and a third ball passed through 
 his hat. In addition to this, he had several horses shot 
 during the day." 
 
 Later, Colonel James B. McPherson's horse was shot 
 quite through, just back of the saddle, but the poor crea- 
 ture carried his rider out of danger before he dropped 
 dead. 
 
 Both armies slept on their arms that night in a pour- 
 ing rain, and the next morning, April 7, renewed the 
 fight, with a hard won victory for the Union forces. So 
 dreadful was the conflict that Grant writes, " I saw an 
 open field, in our possession on the second day, over 
 which the Confederates had made repeated charges the 
 day before, so covered with dead that it would have been 
 possible to walk across the clearing in any direction, 
 stepping on dead bodies, without a foot touching the 
 ground. ... On one part, which had evidently not been 
 ploughed for several years, probably because the land 
 was poor, bushes had grown up, some to the height of
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSE1I SHERMAN. 303 
 
 eight or ten feet. There was not one of these left stand- 
 ing unpierced by bullets. The smaller ones were all cut 
 down." 
 
 Our loss in killed, wounded, and missing was 13,573; 
 the Confederates reported their loss as 10,099, but General 
 Grant thinks it was much greater. 
 
 The battle had been bravely and desperately fought on 
 both sides. About five hundred yards east of Shiloh 
 meeting-house there had been a deadly combat. Several 
 times cartridges gave out ; but Sherman appealed to the 
 regiments to " stand fast," as their retiring would have a 
 bad effect on others, and the men heroically kept their 
 posts. Sherman's division lost over two thousand men. 
 
 Grant said, in his official report, " I feel it a duty to a 
 gallant and able officer, Brigadier-General W. T. Sherman, 
 to make mention that he was not only witli his command 
 during the entire two days of action, but displayed great 
 judgment and skill in the management of his men." 
 
 Halleck said, " Sherman saved the fortunes of the day 
 on the 6th, and contributed largely to the glorious victory 
 on the 7th." 
 
 When on the 8th it was found that the enemy had 
 retreated, " leaving killed, wounded, and much property 
 by the way," says Sherman, " we nil experienced a feel- 
 ing of relief. The struggle had been so long, so desperate 
 and bloody, that the survivors seemed exhausted and 
 nerveless. We appreciated the value of the victory, but 
 realized also its great cost of life." 
 
 Sherman was promoted to the position of major-general 
 May 1. During June and July he was " building rail- 
 road-trestles and bridges, fighting off cavalry detach- 
 ments coming from the South, and waging an everlasting 
 quarrel with planters about the negroes and fences, they
 
 304 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 
 
 trying, in the midst of moving armies, to raise a crop of 
 corn." 
 
 The desire now was to get complete possession of the 
 Mississippi River. Admiral Farragut had taken New 
 Orleans, after the dreadful passage of Forts Jackson and 
 St. Philip. The brave old admiral had said, " If I die in 
 the attempt, it will only be what every officer lias to 
 expect. He who dies in doing his duty to his country, 
 and at peace with his God, has played the drama of life 
 to the best advantage." 
 
 With his six sloops-of-war, sixteen gunboats, twenty- 
 one schooners, and five other vessels, forty-eight in all, 
 carrying two hundred guns, all led by the Hartford, 
 Farragut pushed his way through a sea of fire. Five 
 fire-rafts flat boats, filled with dry wood smeared with 
 tar and turpentine blazed among his ships, while shot 
 and shell strewed his decks with the dead ; but he cut 
 his way to victory, and won immortal honor. 
 
 Memphis had been captured by our gunboats and rams, 
 under Admiral Davis, June 6. Of the eight Confeder- 
 ate gunboats in the flotilla, three, the Lovell, Beauregard, 
 and Thompson, were destroyed by our vessels ; four were 
 captured and repaired for our use ; while one, the Van 
 Dorn, escaped. Five transports and some cotton were 
 taken, and a large ram and two tugs on the stocks were 
 destroyed. 
 
 Sherman was ordered to go to Memphis to take com- 
 mand of the district of West Tennessee. When he 
 entered the city, the stores, churches, and schools were 
 closed. He caused these and the places of amusement 
 to be opened, and put the fugitive slaves to work on the 
 fortifications, and gave them food and clothing. 
 
 The story is told of an Episcopal clergyman who came
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEIl SHERMAN. 305 
 
 to Sherman, saying that he was embarrassed about his 
 prayer for the President. 
 
 " Whom do you regard as President ? " said Sherman. 
 
 " Mr. Davis/' was his reply. 
 
 " Very well ; pray for Jeff Davis if you wish. He 
 needs your prayers badly. It will take a great deal of 
 praying to save him." 
 
 " Then I will not be compelled to pray for Mr. Lin- 
 coln ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. He is a good man, and don't need your 
 prayers. You may pray for him if you feel like it, but 
 there's no compulsion." 
 
 To some of the editors in Memphis, Sherman said, 
 " If I find the press of Memphis actuated by high prin- 
 ciple and a sole devotion to their country, I will be their 
 best friend ; but if I find them personal, abusive, dealing 
 in innuendoes and hints at a blind venture, and looking 
 to their own selfish aggrandizement and fame, then they 
 had better look out ; for I regard such persons as greater 
 enemies to their country and to mankind than the men 
 who, from a mistaken sense of State pride, have taken up 
 muskets, and fight us about as hard as we care about." 
 
 Sherman went to the Argus office one day, and, in his 
 familiar manner, said to the young editors, as he sat 
 down and rested his feet on the table : " Boys, I have 
 been ordered to suppress your paper, but I don't like to 
 do that. I just dropped in to warn you not to be so free 
 with your pencils. If you don't ease up, you'll get into 
 trouble." 
 
 When some complained of the acts of the soldiers, 
 Sherman replied that he knew of several instances where 
 their conduct had been provoked by sneering remarks 
 about " Northern barbarians " and " Lincoln's hirelings."
 
 806 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 
 
 " People who use such language," he said, " must seek 
 redress through some one else, for I will not tolerate 
 insults to our country or cause." 
 
 All sorts of ruses were adopted by the Southern army 
 to obtain things from Memphis. While General Van 
 Dorh was at Holly Springs, he desired supplies for his 
 men. Some of our soldiers found, in a farmer's barn, a 
 large hearse with pall and plumes, which had been used 
 at a big funeral. It was filled with medicines for Van 
 Dorn's army ! " It was a good trick," said Sherman, 
 " but diminished our respect for such pageants after- 
 ward." 
 
 In December there was a concerted movement by 
 Grant and Sherman to capture Vicksburg. The latter 
 was to move down the river, and with Admiral Porter's 
 gunboats, " proceed," said Grant, " to the reduction of 
 that place in such manner as circumstances and your 
 own judgment may dictate." Sherman was to make the 
 attack by land, in the rear, while Porter attacked by 
 river front. Three divisions of Sherman's army were 
 landed in the low, marshy lands, cut by the Chickasaw 
 Bayou and other creeks, where a slight rise in the Mis- 
 sissippi Kiver would drown them all. The bluffs of 
 Walnut Hills, on which Vicksburg stands, are two hun- 
 dred feet high, and impregnable. 
 
 Against these the fearless troops were led Dec. 
 29, with great slaughter. De Courcy's brigade of Mor- 
 gan's division, and Frank Blair's brigade of Steele's 
 division, with the Fourth Iowa, were under the hottest 
 fire. De Courcy lost . 700, Blair 743, and the Fourth 
 Iowa 111 men ; tlve Confederate loss was only about lcS7. 
 
 Sherman says, " The men of the Sixth Missouri actu- 
 ally scooped out with their hands caves in the bank,
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TEGUMSEJI SHERMAN. S07 
 
 which sheltered them against the fire of the enemy, who, 
 right over their heads, held their muskets outside the 
 parapet vertically, and fired down. So critical was the 
 position, that we could not recall the men till after dark, 
 and then one at a time. Our loss had been pretty heavy, 
 and we had accomplished nothing." 
 
 It was evident that Vicksburg must be taken in some 
 other manner. Grant decided to cut a canal across the 
 peninsula opposite Vicksburg, that he might get below 
 the city. All through January and February, Sherman's 
 men were digging the canal, planned to be sixty feet wide 
 and nine feet deep, and fighting off the Mississippi, 
 which continued to rise, and threatened to drown them. 
 When the men were not digging canals, they were clear- 
 ing bayous, which were filled with cypress and cotton- 
 wood trees. Sometimes they marched at night through 
 canebrakes, carrying lighted candles, Sherman walking 
 with them, the water above his hips. The drummer- 
 boys carried their drums on their heads, and the men 
 slung their cartridge-boxes around their necks. 
 
 Admiral Porter, from his gunboats, used to send Sher- 
 man messages, written on tissue paper, concealed in a 
 piece of tobacco. A negro carried them through the 
 swamps. 
 
 Many weeks were spent on other canals, but all proved 
 useless. Finally it was decided to move all the troops 
 down the west bank of the river, cross over below Vicks- 
 burg, and attack it on the land side. 
 
 A series of battles followed at Port Gibson, Raymond, 
 Jackson, Champion Hills, and Big I>lack. Grant had in- 
 flicted a loss upon the enemy during a few days of eight 
 thousand in killed, wounded, and missing ; had captured 
 eighty-eight pieces of their artillery, and driven them
 
 308 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 
 
 into their defences at Vicksburg. " We must go back to 
 the campaigns of Napoleon," says Francis Vinton Greene, 
 lieutenant of engineers, " to find equally brilliant results 
 accompanied in the same space of time with such small 
 loss." 
 
 In these days of carnage, incidents even amusing hap- 
 pened. While Sherman and his troops were at Jackson, 
 a fat man came to him and hoped that his hotel would 
 not be burned, as he was a law-abiding Union man. 
 Sherman said that this fact was manifest from the sign 
 on his hotel, where the words " United States " had 
 been faintly painted out and " Confederate Hotel " 
 painted over it ! 
 
 On May 22 the last assault was made on Vicksburg ; 
 and, though severe and bloody, it was unsuccessful, on 
 account of the strength of the position, and the earnest 
 fighting of the garrison. 
 
 " I have since seen the position at Sevastopol," writes 
 Sherman, "and without hesitation I declare that at 
 Vicksburg to have been the more difficult of the two." 
 
 It was during this dreadful assault that the drummer 
 boy, Orion P. Howe, came to Sherman, calling out in a 
 childish voice that one of the regiments was out of 
 ammunition, and must abandon its position unless relief 
 was sent. The general looked down from his horse upon 
 the lad, and saw the blood running from a wound in the 
 leg. 
 
 " All right, my boy," said Sherman, " I'll send them 
 all they need ; but as you seem to be badly hurt, you 
 had better go to the rear and find a surgeon and let him 
 fix you up." 
 
 The boy saluted and started for the rear ; but again he 
 came running back, shouting, "General, calibre fifty-
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 309 
 
 eight, calibre fifty-eight ! " fearing that the wrong size 
 might be sent, and prove useless. He was afterwards, 
 through Sherman, appointed a cadet at the Naval Acad- 
 emy, Annapolis. 
 
 The siege of Vicksburg was begun at once. Mines 
 were dug by both sides and exploded. Chief Engineer 
 S. H. Lockett, of the Confederates, tells how a private 
 siiggested the firing of a wicker case filled with cotton, 
 which protected the Federals in their sapping. He took 
 a piece of port-fire, put it into cotton soaked with tur- 
 pentine and fired it from an old-fashioned bore musket. 
 The wicker case took fire and burned up. Barrels of 
 powder, lighted by a time-fuse, were thrown into the 
 ranks of the besiegers. 
 
 As the weeks went by, the provisions for the soldiers 
 and citizens of Vicksburg were well-nigh consumed. 
 They ate rats and mules. Flour was five dollars a 
 pound. Some of the people built rooms in the yellow 
 clay banks, and thus escaped the shells. 
 
 The soldiers grew desperate. General Pemberton 
 hoped they could cut their way out, and caused boats 
 to be made out of some of the houses, they planned to 
 make two thousand, which they could use in their 
 escape down the river. 
 
 Finally, when all became hopeless, Pemberton said, 
 "Far better would it be for me to die at the head of my 
 army, even in a vain effort to force the enemy's lines, 
 than to surrender it and live and meet the obloquy which 
 I know will be heaped upon me. But my duty is to 
 sacrifice myself to save the army which lias so nobly 
 done its duty to defend Vicksburg." 
 
 July 4, 1803, Pemberton surrended his garrison of over 
 thirty-one thousand men, sixty thousand muskets, and 
 over one hundred and seventy cannon.
 
 310 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN, 
 
 Grant said of Sherman, "His untiring energy and 
 great efficiency during the campaign entitled him to a 
 full share of all the credit due for its success. He could 
 not have done more if the plan had been his own." 
 
 Before sunset of July 4, Sherman, with fifty thousand 
 men, was in pursuit of Johnston, who had been trying to 
 aid Pemberton. Johnston marched rapidly, driving all 
 cattle, hogs, and sheep into the ponds, and shooting them, 
 so that they should not furnish food for the Federals, and 
 also to spoil the water. Johnston made a stand at Jack- 
 son, but soon evacuated the place. 
 
 For bravery and success in this campaign, Grant was 
 made major-general in the regular army, the highest 
 grade then allowed by law, and Sherman and McPherson 
 brigadier-generals in the regular army. 
 
 After the fall of Vicksburg, Sherman's family, Mrs. 
 Sherman, Minnie, Lizzie, Willie, and Tom, came from 
 Ohio to visit him. Willie was nine years old, fond of 
 the parade of war, and was made a " sergeant " in the 
 regular battalion. He became ill in the low marshy 
 country, and died of typhoid fever, just after the family 
 reached the Gayoso Hotel in Memphis. 
 
 This death was a great blow to Sherman, as he showed 
 in a letter which he wrote to Captain C. C. Smith, com- 
 manding Battalion Thirteenth United States liegulars : 
 " I cannot sleep to-night till I record an expression of 
 the deep feelings of my heart to you, and to the officers 
 and soldiers of the battalion, for their kind behavior to 
 my poor child. . . . The child that bore my name, 
 and in whose future I reposed with more confidence than 
 I did in my own plan of life, now being carried by 
 steamer a mere corpse, seeking a grave in a distant land, 
 with a weeping mother, brother, and sisters clustered
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSETI SHERMAN. 311 
 
 about him. For myself I ask no sympathy. On, on I 
 must go, to meet a soldier's fate, or live to see our coun- 
 try rise superior to all factions, till its flag is adored and 
 respected by ourselves and by all the powers of the 
 earth. . . . 
 
 "Child as he was, he had the enthusiasm, the pure 
 love of truth, honor, and love of country, which should 
 animate all soldiers. . . . Assure each and all, if in 
 after years they call on me or mine, and mention that 
 they were of the Thirteenth Regulars when Willie was a 
 sergeant, they will have a key to the affections of my 
 family that will open all it has ; that we will share Avith 
 them our last blanket, our last crust ! " 
 
 In the spring of 1867, Willie's body was removed from 
 Lancaster, Ohio, to St. Louis, and buried by the side of 
 another child, Charles, born in 1864. Sherman's officers 
 and men erected a beautiful monument to Willie, and 
 had inscribed on it, "Our little Sergeant Willie, from the 
 First Battalion Thirteenth United States Infantry." 
 
 After the dreadful battle of Chickamauga, Ga., Sept. 
 20, 1863, in which we lost 15,851 men, and the Con- 
 federates 17,804, Grant went to Chattanooga to retrieve 
 that disaster. In this battle Thomas, " who," says Gen- 
 eral Fullerton, "never retreated and had never been 
 defeated," so wonderfully held his ground that he was 
 ever afterwards called the " Hock of Chickamauga." 
 
 "With but twenty-five thousand men," said General 
 Gar field, "formed in a semicircle, of which he himself 
 was the centre and soul, he successfully resisted for 
 more than five hours the repeated assaults of an army of 
 sixty-five thousand men, flushed with victory and bent 
 on his annihilation. 
 
 "Towards the close of the day his ammunition began
 
 312 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 
 
 to fail. One by one of his division commanders reported 
 but ten rounds, five rounds, and two rounds left. The 
 calm, quiet answer was returned, 'Save your fire for 
 close quarters, and when your last shot is fired give 
 them the bayonet. 
 
 " On a portion of this line the last assault was repelled 
 by the bayonet, and several hundred rebels were captured. 
 When night had closed over the combatants, the last 
 sound of battle was the booming of Thomas's shells 
 bursting among his baffled and retreating assailants.'' 
 
 Grant telegraphed to Thomas to hold Chattanooga at 
 all hazards ; and Thomas, with his troops on less than 
 half rations for the past month, replied, " We will hold 
 the town till we starve." He urged Sherman to come at 
 once. Then followed those memorable battles of Look- 
 out Mountain, when Hooker fought his " Battle above 
 the clouds," and Missionary Ridge, when Wood's and 
 Sheridan's divisions under Thomas lost in one hour's 
 storming 2,287 men. 
 
 " Sherman was fighting the heavy column of the 
 enemy on our left," said General Henry M. Cist, "and 
 the main part of the battle had been his share." He 
 lost about two thousand men. 
 
 At three o'clock the first rifle-pits on the ridge were to 
 be carried, and there they were to halt to await orders. 
 There was some delay, so that the order was not given 
 till half-past three, when the guns sounded, one, two, up 
 to six, for the charge. 
 
 The enemy had four lines of breastworks, but one had 
 been captured by Thomas the day before. Three rifle- 
 pits remained. As our men approached, cheering, and 
 breaking into a double-quick, the enemy poured upon 
 them shot and shell frpm their batteries, changing it
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 313 
 
 soon to grape and canister, with a terrific fire of mus- 
 ketry. 
 
 " Dashing through this over the open plain," says 
 General Cist, " the soldiers of the army of the Cumber- 
 land swept on, driving the enemy's skirmishers, charging 
 down on the line of works at the foot of the ridge, cap- 
 turing it at the point of the bayonet, and routing the 
 rebels, sending them at full speed up the ridge, killing 
 and capturing them in large numbers. These rifle-pits 
 were reached simultaneously by the several commands, 
 when the troops, in compliance with their instructions, 
 lay down at the foot of the ridge awaiting further 
 orders." 
 
 Here they waited under a hot fire. The orders did 
 not come ; and then without orders, first one regiment and 
 then another, with their colors raised, pushed up the 
 mountain covered with rocks and fallen timber. 
 
 The centre of Sheridan's division reached the crest 
 first, and almost at the same time the ridge was carried 
 in six places. Almost entire regiments were taken from 
 the enemy, and batteries, the Confederates often bay- 
 oneted at their guns. In an hour the work had been 
 accomplished, and the storming of Missionary Ridge had 
 passed into history as a memorable instance of bravery. 
 "After it was over," says General Fullerton, "some 
 madly shouted, some wept from very excess of joy, 
 some grotesquely danced out their delight, even our 
 wounded forgot their pain to join in the general hur- 
 rah." 
 
 Grant and Thomas were watching the battle through 
 their glasses. Grant asked, "By whose orders are those 
 troops going up the hill ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said Thomas, " I did not."
 
 314 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 
 
 "I didn't order them up," said Sheridan, "but we are 
 going to take the ridge." 
 
 Grant remarked that "it was all right if it turned out 
 all right, but, if not, some one would suffer." 
 
 By the capture of the ridge, Sherman was enabled to 
 take the tunnel as he had been ordered. Captain S. H. 
 M. Byers, who was captured at the tunnel with sixty of 
 his regiment and put in Libby prison for seven months 
 the sixty were soon reduced to sixteen by death 
 thus describes the scene. "As the column came out 
 upon the ground, and in sight of the rebel batteries, their 
 renewed and concentrated fire knocked the limbs from 
 the trees above our heads. ... In front of us was a 
 rail-fence. 'Jump the fence, boys,' was the order, and 
 never was a fence scaled more quickly. It was nearly 
 half a mile to the rebel position, and we started on the 
 charge, running across the open fields. I had heard 
 the roaring of heavy battle before, but never such shriek- 
 ing of cannon balls and bursting of shells as met us on 
 that run." 
 
 Sherman, in his official report, gave his officers and 
 men due credit for their " patience, cheerfulness, and 
 courage." " For long periods," he said, " without regular 
 rations or supplies of any kind, they have marched 
 through mud and over rocks, sometimes barefooted, with- 
 out a murmur. Without a moment's rest after a march 
 of over four hundred miles, without sleep for three suc- 
 cessive nights, we crossed the Tennessee, fought our part 
 of the battle of Chattanooga, pursued the enemy out of 
 Tennessee, and then turned more than a hundred and 
 twenty miles north, and compelled Longstreet to raise 
 the siege of Knoxville." 
 
 Congress soon passed a resolution of thanks to Sher-
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSE1I SHERMAN. 315 
 
 man and his army for their "gallant and arduous ser- 
 vices in marching to the relief of the Army of the 
 Cumberland, and for their gallantry and heroism in the 
 battle of Chattanooga, which contributed in a great degree 
 to the success of our arms in that glorious victory." 
 
 The grade of lieutenant-general was now revived in 
 the army, and bestowed upon Grant. He wrote Sherman 
 at once to "express my thanks to you and McPherson, 
 as the men to Avhoni, above all others, I feel indebted for 
 whatever I have had of success. How far your advice 
 and suggestions have been of assistance, you know. 
 How far your execution of wjiatever has been given you 
 to do entitles you to the reward I am receiving, you can- 
 not know as well as I do." 
 
 And Sherman wrote back : " I believe you as brave, 
 patriotic, and just as the great prototype Washington ; 
 as unselfish, kind-hearted, and honest as a man should 
 be; but the chief characteristic in your nature is the 
 simple faith in success you have always manifested, 
 which I can liken to nothing else than the faith a 
 Christian has in his Saviour. 
 
 " This faith gave you victory at Shiloh and Vicksburg. 
 Also, when you have completed your best preparations, 
 you go into battle without hesitation, as at Chattanooga 
 no doubts, no reserve ; and I tell you that it was this 
 that made us act with confidence. I knew, wherever I 
 was, that you thought of me, and if T got in a tight 
 place you would come if alive/' 
 
 Sherman at this time was put in command of the mil- 
 itary division of the Mississippi, with Schofield, Thomas, 
 McPherson, and Steele under him. Grant was to con- 
 quer Robert E. Lee and his large army at the East ; and 
 Sherman, Joseph E. Johnston's army at the West and 
 South.
 
 316 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHEllMAN. 
 
 Supplies were at once gathered by Sherman at Chatta- 
 nooga for one hundred thousand men, which would neces- 
 sitate one hundred and thirty cars, of ten tons each, to 
 reach that city daily. Confederate raids under Forrest 
 and others were frequent; but, as in the case of Grant, 
 nothing could deter Sherman. 
 
 On May 5, 1864, the great arniy started for Atlanta, 
 Ga., prepared to tight its way. The men fought bravely 
 at Itesaca, at Allatoona Pass, and elsewhere. 
 
 During the month of May, Sherman had advanced his 
 army, as he says, " nearly a hundred miles of as difficult 
 a country as was ever fought over by civilized armies. 
 The fighting was continuous, almost daily, among trees 
 and bushes, on ground where we could rarely see a hun- 
 dred yards ahead." Sherman had lost 9,299 men ; nearly 
 two thousand in killed and missing, and over seven thou- 
 sand wounded. The enemy's loss was a little over half 
 that number. 
 
 From June 10 to July 3 an almost constant battle was 
 waged about Kenesaw Mountain, with a loss on our side 
 of nearly eight thousand, and the Confederate loss con- 
 siderably less. 
 
 An amusing remark came to Sherman's ear at Kene- 
 saw. One of the Confederate soldiers said to another, 
 " Well, the Yanks will have to git up and git now, for 
 I heard General Johnston himself say that General 
 Wheeler had blown up the tunnel near Dalton, and that 
 the Yanks would have to retreat, because they could get 
 no more rations." 
 
 " Oh," said the listener, " don't you know that old 
 Sherman carries a duplicate tunnel along ? " 
 
 The enemy were constantly driven back towards At- 
 lanta. On July 22 a bloody battle was fought near
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 317 
 
 Atlanta, usually called the Battle of Atlanta, in which 
 the brave General McPherson was killed in the hottest 
 of the fight when passing from one column to another. 
 He rode into a wood, and soon his horse returned, 
 wounded, bleeding, and riderless. His body was recov- 
 ered, with his gauntlets on and boots outside his panta- 
 loons, but his pocket-book with his papers was gone. The 
 spot where he fell was soon retaken by our men, and the 
 pocket-book and its contents were found in the haversack 
 of a prisoner of war, captured at the time. 
 
 McPherson was only thirty-four years old, over six 
 feet high, universally beloved, and apparently destined 
 for a great future. Sherman could not look long upon 
 the body. " Better start at once, and drive carefully," 
 said the bluff but tender-hearted general to McPherson's 
 staff, as he covered the body with the flag. It was taken 
 home to Clyde, Ohio, where it was received with great 
 honor, and buried near his mother's house in a small 
 cemetery, part of which is the family orchard where he 
 played when a boy. 
 
 General John A. Logan took the command after the 
 death of McPherson, and fought bravely. The attack 
 was made upon his line seven times, and seven times 
 repulsed. 
 
 Sherman was often in extreme danger. Once, when 
 he, Logan, and a few others were talking together, a 
 minie-ball passed through Logan's coat-sleeve, scratching 
 the skin, and struck Colonel Taylor in the breast. A 
 memorandum-book saved his life. At another time a 
 cannon-ball passed over Sherman's shoulder and killed 
 the horse of an orderly behind. Another ball took off 
 the head of a negro close by Sherman. 
 
 The month of July was an extremely hot one, but the
 
 318 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 
 
 soldiers had beeii in almost constant conflict. Our loss 
 in that month was about ten thousand men, and that of 
 the enemy perhaps greater by a few hundreds. 
 
 Sherman's men tore up railroad-tracks, made bonfires 
 of the ties, wrapped the heated rails round trees and 
 telegraph poles, and left them to cool, such rails could 
 not be used again, and filled up deep cuts with trees, 
 brush, and earth, commingled with loaded shells, so 
 arranged that they would explode if disturbed. Thus 
 the devastation of war went on. 
 
 Atlanta was full of foundries, arsenals, and machine- 
 shops, and was called the " Gate City of the South." 
 " I knew that its capture," says Sherman, " would be the 
 death-knell of the Southern Confederacy." 
 
 Sept. 2 Atlanta could bear the Federal guns no longer, 
 was evacuated by the enemy, and our troops marched 
 into the city with great rejoicing. The losses during 
 these four months had been over thirty thousand on each 
 side. 
 
 President Lincoln wrote to Sherman : " The marches, 
 battles, sieges, and other military operations, that have 
 signalized the campaign, must render it famous in the 
 annals of the war, and have entitled those who have 
 participated therein to the applause and thanks of the 
 nation." 
 
 Grant wrote from City Point, Va., "In honor of your 
 great victory, I have ordered a salute to be fired with 
 shotted guns from every battery bearing on the enemy. 
 ... 1 feel that you have accomplished the most gigan- 
 tic undertaking given to any general in this war." 
 
 Sherman at once required all the citizens and families 
 resident in Atlanta to leave the city and go North or 
 South as they chose, with a reasonable amount of furni-
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEIl SHERMAN. 319 
 
 ture and bedding. This order was denounced by Hood, 
 who had relieved Johnston, as unprecedented and cruel. 
 A bitter correspondence took place, in which Sherman 
 said, " War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it. ... You 
 might as well appeal against the thunder-storms as 
 against these terrible hardships of war. They are inevi- 
 table ; and the only way the people of Atlanta can hope 
 once more to live in peace and quiet at home, is to stop 
 the war, which can only be done by admitting that it be- 
 gan in error and is perpetuated in pride. . . . 
 
 " I want peace, and believe it can only be reached 
 through union and war, and I will ever conduct war with 
 a view to perfect and early success. When peace does 
 come, you may call on me for anything. Then will I 
 share with you the last cracker, and watch with you to 
 shield your homes and families against danger from 
 every quarter." 
 
 Hood then took his army into Tennessee, and much of 
 the old battle ground was fought over. Allatoona Pass 
 was wonderfully defended by General John M. Corse, 
 who lost a cheek-bone and an ear by a ball cutting across 
 his face, but still led his men, holding the pass and kill- 
 ing the enemy three to one. Mr. John C. Ropes regards 
 this fight "as one of the most memorable occurrences of 
 the war." 
 
 At Resaea, when General Hood demanded its surrender, 
 Colonel Clark R. Weaver said, " In my opinion, T can 
 hold this post. Tf you want it, come and take it." l>ut 
 Hood did not attempt it after his losses at Allatoona. 
 
 Sherman saw the impossibility of holding the country 
 and defending the railroads without constant losses. He 
 telegraphed Grant, "With twenty-five thousand infantry 
 and the bold cavalry he has, Hood can constantly break
 
 320 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 
 
 my road. I would infinitely prefer to make a wreck of 
 the road and of the country from Chattanooga to Atlanta 
 . . . and with my effective army move through Georgia, 
 smashing things to the sea." 
 
 On the morning of Nov. 15, 1864, this great army 
 of about 65,000 men began its march from Atlanta to the 
 sea. The depot, round-house, and machine-shops of the 
 Georgia railroad had been burned. The fire destroyed 
 the heart of the city, but did not reach the mass of the 
 dwelling-houses. The army carried sixty-five guns, or 
 one to each thousand men. Each gun, caisson, and forge 
 was drawn by four teams of horses. There were twenty- 
 five hundred wagons, with six mules each, and six hun- 
 dred ambulances with two horses each. Every soldier 
 carried on his person forty rounds of ammunition, and 
 in the wagons were enough cartridges to make up two 
 hundred rounds to a man. The procession occupied five 
 miles or more of road. 
 
 Corps commanders alone were intrusted with the power 
 of destroying mills, cotton-gins, etc. " Where the army 
 is unmolested," said Sherman, "no destruction of such 
 property should be permitted." 
 
 The cavalry and artillery were allowed to take horses, 
 mules, and wagons, especially from the rich, who were 
 not usually as friendly as the poor. Soldiers were not to 
 enter the dwellings of the inhabitants, but might gather 
 vegetables and stock. Kegular foraging parties might 
 gather provisions at any distance from the road trav- 
 elled. 
 
 As the great company moved out of Atlanta, the black 
 smoke of her buildings rising high in air, the men sang 
 "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in his grave." 
 "Never before or since," says Sherman, "have I heard
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEIl SHERMAN. 321 
 
 the chorus of ' Glory, glory, hallelujah !' done with more 
 spirit, or in better harmony of time and place." 
 
 As Sherman moved past his men, some of them called 
 out, " Uncle Billy," they usually called him this, "I 
 guess Grant is waiting for us at Richmond ! " 
 
 The first night they camped by the roadside near 
 Lithonia. All night long groups of men were tearing up 
 railroads and bending the heated rails around trees or 
 telegraph poles. 
 
 At the towns the white people came out to look upon 
 the hated intruders, and the colored people were frantic 
 with joy. Each day foraging parties, " Sherman's bum- 
 mers " as they were called, usually about fifty men from 
 a brigade, would go out to the plantations for food. 
 
 " The foragers," says Major-General Jacob D. Cox in his 
 "March to the Sea," "turned into beasts of burden oxen 
 and cows, as well as horses and mules. Here would be a 
 silver-mounted family carriage drawn by a jackass and 
 a cow, loaded inside and out with everything the country 
 produced, vegetable and animal, dead and alive. There 
 would be an ox-cart, similarly loaded, and drawn by a 
 nondescript tandem team, equally incongruous. Perched 
 upon the top woidd be a ragged forager, rigged out in a 
 fur hat of a fashion worn by darkies of a century ago, or 
 a dress-coat which had done service at stylish balls of 
 a former generation." Many of the horses and mules 
 collected were shot, as it produced a bad effect on the 
 infantry when too many idlers were mounted. 
 
 The usual march for the army was about fifteen miles 
 per day. The Southern press urged that the invading 
 army be destroyed, starved, obstructed by gun. spade, and 
 axe. But the great host swept on. 
 
 At Milledgeville the arsenal and such public buildings
 
 322 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUAfSEU SHERMAN. 
 
 as could be used easily for hostile purposes were burned, 
 while several mills and thousands of bales of cotton were 
 spared. Other places shared the same fate. 
 
 As the army neared Savannah, they were assured by 
 some prisoners whom they took, that it would be found 
 strongly fortified. On one of the roads torpedoes had 
 been planted,, one of which exploded when touched by a 
 horse's hoof, killing the animal and literally blowing off 
 the flesh from the legs of the rider. This so angered 
 General Sherman, that he made some rebel prisoners, 
 much against their will, pass over the road to explode 
 their own torpedoes, or to discover and dig them up. 
 
 Sherman demanded of General Hardee the surrender 
 of Savannah. This Hardee declined to do ; but he evacu- 
 uated the city about the time the assault was to have 
 been made, leaving behind his heavy guns, cotton, rail- 
 way-cars, steamboats, and other property, but destroying 
 his iron clads and navy-yards. The ground outside the 
 forts was filled with torpedoes, as was also the Savannah 
 River. Log piers were stretched across the channel be- 
 low the city, and filled with the cobble-stones that for- 
 merly paved the streets. A heavy force at once set to 
 work to remove the torpedoes and other obstructions 
 from the civer, and Savannah became the great dejx>t of 
 supply for the troops. Very many destitute Southern 
 families were fed by Sherman. 
 
 Sherman telegraphed the President, Dec. 22, 1864 : 
 " T beg to present you, as a Christinas gift, the city of 
 Savannah, with over one hundred and fifty heavy guns 
 and plenty of ammunition, also about twenty-five thousand 
 bales of cotton." 
 
 There was great rejoicing at the capture of the city, as 
 now Sherman could march into the Carolinas and lay
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 323 
 
 them waste, and then join his army to that of Grant, who 
 was besieging Lee in Richmond. Thomas had conquered 
 Hood at Nashville. The end of the war could be plainly 
 seen. 
 
 Grant congratulated Sherman on his brilliant cam- 
 paign. " I never had a doubt," he said, a of the result. 
 When apprehensions for your safety were expressed by 
 the President, I assured him, with the army you had, and 
 you in command of it, there was no danger but you 
 would strike bottom on salt water some place ; that I 
 would not feel the same security, in fact, would not have 
 intrusted the expedition to any other living commander." 
 
 Lincoln wrote, " The undertaking being a success, the 
 honor is all yours ; for I believe none of ns went further 
 than to acquiesce. . . . But what next ? I suppose it 
 will be safer if I leave General Grant and yourself to 
 decide." 
 
 Congress passed a vote of thanks to Sherman and his 
 men for the great March to the Sea, of three hundred 
 miles in twenty-four days. This march greatly inter- 
 ested Europe, though Sherman never considered it so 
 important as the passage of the army afterwards through 
 the Carolinas. 
 
 The London Times said : " Since the groat Duke of 
 Marlborough turned his back upon the Dutch, and 
 plunged hurriedly into Germany to fight the famous 
 battle of Blenheim, military history has recorded no 
 stranger marvel than this mysterious expedition of Gen- 
 eral Sherman, on an unknown route, against an undis- 
 covered enemy."' Noted army men regard it as having 
 "scarcely a parallel in the history of war." 
 
 In January the whole army left Savannah, Ga., for 
 Columbia, S.C. Sometimes, in pouring rains, they waded
 
 324 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 
 
 up to their shoulders through swamps previously con- 
 sidered impassable, or made roads for miles through the 
 mud by corduroying them with rails and split trees. 
 
 The Confederate General Johnston said later, in the 
 hearing of General Cox, concerning this part of the 
 march, " he had made up Ids mind that there had been 
 no such army since the days of Julius Caesar." 
 
 "Whoever will consider," says General Cox, "the 
 effect of dragging the artillery and hundreds of loaded 
 army wagons over mud roads, in such a country, and of 
 the infinite labor required to pave these roads with logs, 
 levelling the surface with smaller poles in the hollows 
 between, adding to the structure as the mass sinks in the 
 ooze, and continuing this till the miles of train have 
 pulled through, will get a constantly increasing idea of 
 the work, and a steadily increasing wonder that it was 
 done at all." 
 
 On Feb. 16 Sherman camped near an old prison biv- 
 ouac opposite Columbia, called Camp Sorghum, "where 
 remained," he says, " the mud-hovels and holes in the 
 ground which our prisoners had made to shelter them- 
 selves from the winter's cold and the summer's heat." 
 
 When the army entered Columbia, they found a long 
 pile of burning cotton-bales, which Sherman was told 
 had been fired by General Wade Hampton's men before 
 their departure. At night a high wind fanned these 
 flames ; and though Sherman's men assisted in trying to 
 put out the fire, the heart of the city was burned sev- 
 eral churches, the old State House, hotels, and dwellings. 
 About half the city was in ashes. Sherman gave the 
 mayor five hundred cattle to feed the people, and one 
 hundred muskets to preserve order after the departure 
 of his army.
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 325 
 
 One lady saved her home from pillage by showing to 
 the troops a book which Sherman had given her years 
 before. The boys knew Uncle Billy's writing. They 
 guarded her house, and a young man from Iowa tended 
 her baby while she was receiving a social call from 
 Sherman. 
 
 While in Columbia, a poem was presented to Sherman 
 by Adjutant S. H. M. Byers of the Fifth Iowa Infantry, 
 written while a prisoner in that city, where it was ar- 
 ranged and sung by the prisoners. It was entitled 
 " Sherman's March to the Sea," beginning, 
 
 " Our camp-fires shone bright on the mountains 
 
 That frowned on the river below, 
 As we stood by our guns in the morning, 
 
 And eagerly watched for the foe; 
 When a rider came out of the darkness 
 
 That hung over mountain and tree, 
 And shouted, ' Boys, up and be ready! 
 
 For Sherman will march to the sea! ' ' 
 
 Sherman at once attached Byers to his staff. 
 
 Several founderies, the factory of Confederate money, 
 and the state arsenal at Columbia, were destroyed by 
 Sherman before leaving. Charleston was evacuated Feb. 
 18, for fear of its falling into Federal hands ; and 
 Wilmington was captured by General Terry Feb. 22. 
 At Cheraw a large number of guns and thirty -six hun- 
 dred barrels of powder were taken ; at Fayetteville a 
 magnificent United States arsenal was destroyed by our 
 men. 
 
 Two battles were fought at Averysboro and at Ben- 
 tonville, Johnston now commanding the Confederates, 
 our loss being over two thoiisand men in both battles. 
 March 23 Sherman's army entered Goldsborough, X.C.,
 
 326 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 
 
 after a march from Savannah of four hundred and 
 twenty-five miles, across five large rivers, and innumer- 
 able swamps, in fifty days, the army being almost as 
 fresh as when they started from Atlanta. 
 
 General Sherman then left his army under Schofield, 
 and started for City Point, Va., to meet Lincoln and 
 Grant on March 28. "When I left Lincoln," says Sher- 
 man, this proved to be their last meeting, "I was 
 more than ever impressed with his kindly nature, his 
 deep and earnest sympathy with the afflictions of the 
 whole people, resulting from the war, and by the march 
 of hostile armies through the South." He wanted no 
 more blood shed, and was anxious for the men on both 
 sides to return to their homes. 
 
 " Of all the men I ever met," said Sherman, " he 
 seemed to possess more of the elements of greatness, 
 combined with goodness, than any other." 
 
 Sherman returned to his army, and made ready for one 
 more march, to meet Grant. He was to start April 10. 
 However, April 6 Richmond fell, and Lee and his whole 
 army surrendered to Grant at Appomattox Court House, 
 Va., April 9, 1865. 
 
 Sherman's army were resting, April 11, at the end of 
 the hour's march, when a staff-officer galloped along the 
 lines, shouting, " Lee has surrendered ! " The soldiers 
 were Avild with delight, and flung their caps at him, as 
 they shouted, "You're the man we've been looking for 
 these three years ! " 
 
 A Southern woman came to the gate with her children 
 as the columns passed, and, learning the reason of the 
 commotion, looked at her little ones, while the tears fell 
 down her cheeks, and said tenderly, " Now father will 
 come home."
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 327 
 
 April 13 Johnston asked for a suspension of hostili- 
 ties ; on the evening of April 14 Lincoln was assassi- 
 nated, to the great grief of the nation ; April 18 a basis of 
 agreement was effected between Sherman and Johnston, 
 which was modified at Washington, so as to correspond 
 with the terms made between Grant and Lee. On 
 April 26 Johnston surrendered to Sherman his whole 
 force, 36,817 men, and the troops in Georgia and Florida, 
 52,453, making 89,270 men. The march to the sea and 
 through the Carolinas had helped, as Sherman believed 
 it would, to end the Civil War. 
 
 There remained only for the closing scene the grand 
 review of the Army of the West for six hours and a half 
 along Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, May 24, the 
 day following the review of the Army of the Potomac. 
 Some of the division commanders, by way of variety, 
 had added goats, cows, and mules, loaded with poultry, 
 hams, etc. There were also families of freed slaves in 
 the procession, the women leading the children. Each 
 division was preceded by its corps of black helpers, with 
 picks and spades. 
 
 In Sherman's farewell to his army he urged those who 
 remained in the service to continue the same hard work 
 and discipline which they had had in the past, and those 
 who went to their homes "not to yield to the natural 
 impatience sure to result from our past life of excite- 
 ment and adventure," but to make a home and occupa- 
 tion in our grand, extensive, diversified country. 
 
 "Your general," he said, "now bids you farewell, with 
 the full belief that, as in war you have been good soldiers. 
 so in peace yon will make good citizens; and if, unfortu- 
 nately, new war should arise in our country, ' Sherman's ' 
 Army ' will be the first to buckle on its old armor, and
 
 328 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 
 
 come forth to defend and maintain the Government of 
 our inheritance." 
 
 After the war Sherman was in command of the mili- 
 tary division of the Mississippi, with headquarters at 
 St. Louis. He took especial interest in the development 
 of the Northern and Southern Pacific railroads. When 
 Grant was made General, July 25, 1806, Sherman was 
 made Lieutenant-General. In 1869 when Grant became 
 President, Sherman was made General, with the pro- 
 vision that the office should go to no other person. 
 Sheridan was made Lieutenant-General with the same 
 provision. 
 
 From Nov. 10, 1871, to Sept. 17, 1872, General Sher- 
 man travelled abroad in Turkey, Russia, Austria, and 
 Western Europe, and received distinguished honors. He 
 kept full notes. After his return he published his 
 memoirs in two volumes, which the Nation charac- 
 terises as "one of the most noteworthy examples of 
 self-revealing in the whole range of autobiography.'' 
 
 He received degrees from Harvard, Yale, Dartmouth, 
 and Princeton colleges. To Harvard college he sent a 
 large picture of himself, which now hangs in the library. 
 He was much sought after in social circles, and was an 
 interesting speaker and writer. Once when speaking on 
 the American flag to the pupils of the Packer and Poly- 
 technic Institutes in Brooklyn, he said of the "Stars and 
 Bars," the Confederate flag, "They cut out the blue. 
 They left heaven out of their flag, and so were destined 
 to defeat." 
 
 To the cadets at West Point he said : " When war 
 comes you can have but one purpose your country 
 and by your country I mean the whole country, not part 
 of it." Everywhere he was outspoken, of simple man-
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEII SHERMAN. 329 
 
 ners, humorous, brave, unselfish, and comprehensive in 
 mind and actions. 
 
 " The two or three great captains in any age," says 
 the Nation, "are alike in the supreme qualities which 
 make a general. They have the unruffled presence of 
 mind which makes their intellectual operations most 
 sure and true in the greatest and most sudden peril, and 
 the true greatness which makes the most momentous 
 decision and unhesitating action under vast responsibil- 
 ity, as if these were the every day work of their lives. 
 The present generation has in our army seen two such, 
 Grant and Sherman. It is doubtful if it has seen a 
 third." 
 
 General Oliver 0. Howard, who lost an arm under 
 Sherman, writes, "Take him all in all, General Sherman 
 was not only one of the greatest military geniuses in 
 history, but a model of a kindly, generous, and faithful 
 man in every position in life." 
 
 Sherman's soldiers idolized him. To them he was 
 always " Old Tecums " or " Uncle Billy." He believed 
 in fighting at the front. He said in his Memoirs : "No 
 man can properly command an army from the rear. He 
 must be at its front. . . . Some men think that modern 
 armies may be so regulated that a general can sit in an 
 office and play on his several columns as on the keys of a 
 piano. This is a fearful mistake. The directing mind 
 must be at the very head of the army must be seen 
 there, and the effect of his mind and personal energy 
 must be felt by every officer and man present with it, to 
 secure the best results." 
 
 General Sherman was strongly urged to become a can- 
 didate for the Presidency. He declined absolutely, as 
 he did not wish its cares and duties ; knowing also that
 
 330 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEIl SHERMAN. 
 
 the religion of his wife and children, Roman Catholi- 
 cism, though he was not a Romanist, would cause opposi- 
 tion. His son, Thomas Ewing Sherman, though educated 
 for the law, became a Catholic priest. 
 
 After retiring from the army, as the laAV requires at 
 sixty-four years of age, though allowed full pay, thirteen 
 thousand five hundred dollars yearly to the end of his 
 life, Sherman removed to New York, living at 75 West 
 Seventy-first Street. Here, in the midst of his children 
 and grandchildren, he passed his last days happily. Of 
 his four sons, Willie, Charles, Thomas, and Philemon 
 Tecumseh, the first two died. Of his four daughters, 
 Minnie, Lizzie, Ella, and Rachel, Minnie was married 
 to Lieutenant Fitch, Ella to Lieutenant Thackara, and 
 Rachel to Dr. Thorndike. 
 
 General Sherman was always partial to the West, and 
 believed in its great future. 
 
 Mrs. Sherman died Nov. 27, 1888, and was buried 
 in Calvary Cemetery, St. Louis, in a plot selected by 
 herself and husband over twenty years before. Here 
 their two sons and three grandchildren were also buried. 
 
 Early in February, 1891, General Sherman took cold, 
 which resulted in his death from bronchial trouble and 
 asthma, Saturday afternoon at 1.50, Feb. 14. He died 
 without apparent pain, all his family about him, except 
 the Rev. Thomas E. Sherman, his son, who was on his 
 way home from Europe. 
 
 Though requesting that his body should not lie in 
 state, the family were finally persuaded to allow the 
 thousands of the General's friends to pass by the coffin 
 in his own parlors from ten to four o'clock. There was 
 deep and unfeigned sorrow. The funeral "was one never 
 to be forgotten. New York City was draped with mourn-
 
 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 331 
 
 ing. All the shipping bore the emblems of grief, with 
 flags at half-mast. Business was practically suspended 
 and the streets crowded. 
 
 For two hours and a half, while bells were tolling, the 
 great procession moved past, with inverted muskets, 
 muffled drums, torn battle-flags, cavalry and artillery, all 
 following the caisson with its heroic dead wrapped in the 
 flag. The caisson in its funereal trappings was drawn 
 by five black horses, three of these abreast. Two of the 
 horses were ridden by artillerymen in blue uniforms, 
 with black helmets and red plumes. Behind the caisson 
 was a soldier leading a handsome black riderless horse, 
 covered with black velvet, on whose back were Sherman's 
 saddle and his riding boots reversed. 
 
 The great of the nation were present to do Sherman 
 honor. Among the distinguished generals was Joseph 
 E. Johnston from the South, who was also at the funeral 
 of Grant, and for whom both the Northern generals had 
 great respect and admiration. 
 
 As the funeral corteye passed along, appropriate selec- 
 tions Avere played by the bands. Gilmore's band electri- 
 fied all hearts by the song turned into a dirge, composed 
 for Sherman by Henry C. Work. 
 
 " Bring the good old bugle, boys, we'll have another song, 
 Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along, 
 Sing it as we used to sing it, fifty thousand strong, 
 While we were marching through (Jeorgia. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 'Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the jubilee! 
 Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes yon free!' 
 So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea, 
 While we were marching through (leorgia.
 
 332 GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN. 
 
 " So Ave made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train, 
 Sixty miles in latitude three hundred to the main; 
 Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain, 
 While we were inarching through Georgia." 
 
 As tlie body was taken on board the ferry-boat, for the 
 west, the Marine Band played the hymn : 
 
 " Here bring your bleeding hearts, 
 
 Here tell your anguish; 
 Earth lias no sorrow 
 
 That Heaven cannot heal." 
 
 All along the route to St. Louis great crowds gathered 
 at the stations, the old soldiers weeping like children. 
 At Coshocton, Ohio, five hundred school-children stood 
 near the train, and sang " Nearer, my God, to Thee." At 
 Columbus, Ohio, at the depot, was a large picture of 
 Sherman surmounted by an eagle, and underneath the 
 words, " Ohio's son, the nation's hero." 
 
 At St. Louis in the midst of thousands, after a brief 
 service by his son, General Sherman was laid to rest in 
 Calvary Cemetery by the side of his wife, who had died 
 a little more than two years previously. Richard Watson 
 Gilder voiced the sentiment of the nation : 
 
 "But better than martial awe, and the pageant of civic sorrow; 
 Better than praise of to-day, or the statue we build to-morrow; 
 Better than honor and glory, and history's iron pen, 
 Is the thought of duty done, and the love of his fellowmen."
 
 
 CHARLES H. SPURGEON.
 
 CHARLES HADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 No one who has sat in the great London Tabernacle, 
 with its six thousand or more eager listeners, and heard 
 Spurgeon preach, natural, brotherly, earnest, and elo- 
 quent, can ever forget it. I have seen a whole congre- 
 gation moved to tears, as he talked of the relationship 
 between God and His children, from the words, " Abba, 
 Father." To hear a man like this, is always to ask the 
 secret of his power. What was the childhood and youth 
 that ushered in this rare manhood ? Did he have more 
 talent, more grace, more learning, than other men ? He 
 had no wealth, no superior education, no fortuitous cir- 
 cumstances, yet his career has been a remarkable one. 
 
 "He is a wonderful man," said Lord Shaftesbury, 
 "full of zeal, affection, faith; abounding in reputation 
 and authority, and, yet perfectly humble, with the 
 openness and simplicity of a child." 
 
 The London Speaker calls him " one of those born 
 orators of whom this generation lias seen only tAvo, 
 himself and John Bright. Gifted with splendid com- 
 mon-sense, with a genuine humor, with a large-hearted 
 love for his fellow-creatures." . . . 
 
 Charles 11 addon Spurgeon was born at Kelvedon, 
 Essex, England, June 19, 18,34, the eldest of seventeen 
 children. His father, the Kev. John Spurgeon, was a 
 pastor of the Independent or Congregational Church, a 
 
 333
 
 334 CUARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 genial, warm-hearted man, and of fine presence. His 
 mother, a Miss Jarvis, was a devoted Christian woman, 
 esteemed for her good works wherever she resided. 
 The Rev. John Spurgeon tells this story of his wife: 
 " I had been from home a great deal, trying to build up 
 weak congregations, and felt that I was neglecting the 
 religious training of my own children while I toiled for 
 the good of others. I returned home with these feelings. 
 
 " I opened the door, and was surprised to find none of 
 the children about the hall. Going quietly up the stairs, 
 I heard my wife's voice. She was engaged in prayer 
 with the children. I heard her pray for them, one by 
 one, by name. She came to Charles, and specially 
 prayed for him, for he was of high spirit and daring 
 temper. I listened till she had ended her prayer, and I 
 felt and said, ' Lord, I will go on with Thy work. The 
 children will be cared for.' " 
 
 It is related of her, after her brilliant son Charles had 
 become a Baptist ; that she said to him, " I have often 
 prayed that you might be saved, but never that you 
 should become a Baptist ; to which he answered, with 
 his accustomed humor, "The Lord has answered your 
 prayer with His usual bounty, and given you more than 
 you asked." 
 
 Mrs. Spurgeon died May 18, 1888, having lived to see 
 the wonderful success of her son, and be thankful for it. 
 Mr. Spurgeon was much devoted to his mother, and her 
 death brought on a severe attack of illness. 
 
 When Charles was quite young he was carried to the 
 house of his grandfather, the Rev. James Spurgeon, who 
 preached for fifty-four years in the Independent Church 
 in Stambourne. When more than eighty years old he 
 said, "I have not had one hour's unhappiness with my
 
 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 335 
 
 church since I have been over it. ... I will never give 
 up so long as God inclines people to come, and souls are 
 saved." 
 
 He possessed the not unusual combination, a large 
 family and a small income, and therefore cultivated a 
 few acres of ground, and kept a cow. The latter died 
 suddenly, and Mrs. Spurgeon was much worried over the 
 matter. 
 
 " James," she said, " how will God provide for the 
 dear children now ? What shall we do for milk ? " 
 
 " Mother, God has said that He will provide, and I be- 
 lieve that He could send us fifty cows if He pleased," 
 was the reply. 
 
 That very day in London, a committee were distribut- 
 ing funds to poor ministers. The Rev. James Spurgeon 
 had never asked aid, but all must have known how 
 meagre was the salary of a village pastor. 
 
 One of the committee remarked, " There is a Mr. 
 Spurgeon down at Stambourne, in Essex, who needs 
 some help." 
 
 One person said he would give five pounds. Another 
 said, "I will put five pounds to it; I know him: lie is a 
 worthy man." Others added, till there were twenty 
 pounds subscribed and sent by letter. 
 
 When the letter reached the preacher's house, Mrs. 
 Spurgeon hated to pay the postage, ninepenco. When 
 it was opened she was greatly astonished to find twenty 
 pounds, about one hundred dollars. Her husband said, 
 "Now can't you trust God about a cow '/" 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Spurgeon, dressed in his knee-breeches, 
 buckled shoes, silk stockings, and frilled shirts, must 
 have been an interesting figure. He died when he was 
 eighty-eight years old.
 
 336 CUAELES II ADDON SPUEGEON. 
 
 At the home of this grandfather in his early years, 
 Charles found especial delight in reading Bunyan's 
 " Pilgrim's Progress," Foxe's " Book of Martyrs," and 
 De Foe's " Robinson Crusoe." 
 
 He read the Scriptures at family prayer, and on one 
 occasion persisted in knowing what the " bottomless pit " 
 in the Book of Revelation meant. " If it had no bottom, 
 where did the people go to who dropped into it ? These 
 were inconvenient questions to answer. 
 
 The Rev. Richard Knill visited the family, and was 
 shown about the garden by the young Charles. In the 
 great yew-tree arbor the good man knelt with the lad, 
 and, with his arm about his neck, prayed for his conver- 
 sion. In the house, taking him on his knee, Mr. Knill 
 said, " I do not know hoAv it is, but I feel a solemn pre- 
 sentiment that this child will preach the gospel to thou- 
 sands, and God will bless him to many souls. 
 
 " So sure am I of this, that when my little man 
 preaches in Rowland Hill's chapel, as he will do one 
 day, I should like him to promise me that he will give 
 out the hymn commencing, 
 
 " God moves in a mysterious way 
 His wonders to perform! " 
 
 Years later the famous Charles Spurgeon preached in 
 the pulpit of Rowland Hill, in the largest Non-conform- 
 ist Church in London, before the Metropolitan Taber- 
 nacle was built, and read the hymn desired by Mr. Knill. 
 
 Charles attended school in Colchester, to which town 
 his family had moved, and became well versed in Latin 
 and mathematics. At an Agricultural College at Maid- 
 stone he spent a year, and then went to Newmarket, as 
 an assistant in the school. After a year at the latter
 
 CHAELES HADDON SPURGEON. 387 
 
 place, he removed to Cambridge, to assist a former 
 teacher, Mr. Henry Leeding, in a school for young 
 men. Here he taught, and carried on his own studies as 
 well. 
 
 In January, 1850, at the age of sixteen, young Spur- 
 geon was converted in Colchester. He had been for some 
 time troubled at heart, and determined to visit every 
 place of worship in the town, to see if he could not find 
 help. " What I wanted to know," he says, " was, ' How 
 can I got my sins forgiven ? ' and they never told me that. 
 I wanted to hear how a poor sinner, under a sense of sin, 
 might find peace with God ; and when I went I heard a 
 sermon on, ' Be not deceived ; God is not mocked,' which 
 cut me up worse, but did not say how I might escape. 
 I went again another day, and the text was something 
 about the glories of the righteous ; nothing for poor 
 me ! . . . 
 
 "At last one snowy day it snowed so much I could 
 not go to the place I had determined to go to, and I was 
 obliged to stop on the road ; and it was a blessed stop to 
 me I found rather an obscure street, and turned down 
 a court, and there was a little chapel. I wanted to go 
 somewhere, but I did not know this place. It was the 
 Primitive Methodist Chapel." 
 
 Spurgeon went in and sat down, waiting for the ser- 
 vice to begin. "At last," he says, "a very thin-looking 
 man came into the pulpit, and opened his Bible, and 
 read these words, ' Look inito Me, and be ye saved, all 
 the ends of the earth.' Just setting his eyes upon me, 
 as if he knew all my heart, he said, ' Young man, you are 
 in trouble.' Well, I was, sure enough. Says he, 'You 
 will never get out of it unless you look to Christ.' And 
 then, lifting up his hands, he cried out, as only a 1'rimi-
 
 338 CHARLES HADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 tive Methodist could do, ' Look, look, look ! It is only 
 look,' said lie. I saw at once the way to salvation. Oh, 
 how I did leap for joy at that moment ! I know not 
 what else he said. I did not take much notice of it; I 
 was so possessed with that one thought." 
 
 While at Newmarket, young Spurgeon was immersed 
 in the River Lark, at Isleham Ferry, May 3, 1850, on his 
 mother's birthday. He had read the Scriptures for him- 
 self, and believed that they favored this method of Bap- 
 tism, rather than sprinkling. At first the youth of 
 sixteen, in his round jacket and broad white turn-down 
 collar, felt timid at seeing the crowds on either side of 
 the river ; but once in the water, his fears left him, and 
 he enjoyed great peace at heart. 
 
 Some years later, Spurgeon related a most suggestive 
 incident. " I was a member of the church at New- 
 market," he said, " when I first joined the church, and 
 was afterwards transferred to the church at Cambridge, 
 one of the best in England. I attended for three Lord's 
 Days at the communion, and nobody spoke to me. I sat 
 in a pew with a gentleman, and when I got outside I 
 said, ' My dear friend, how are you ? ' 
 
 " He said, ' You have the advantage of me ; I don't 
 know you.' 
 
 " I said, ' I don't think I have, for I don't know you. 
 But when I came to the Lord's table, and partook of the 
 memories of His death, I thought you were my brother, 
 and I thought I would speak to you.' 
 
 " I was only sixteen years of age, and he said, * Sweet 
 simplicity ! ' 
 
 " 'Oh, is it true, sir ? ' I said. ' Is it true ? ' 
 
 " He said, 'It is ; but I am glad you did not say this 
 to any of the deacons.' "
 
 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 339 
 
 The stranger asked the lad home to supper, and they 
 become good friends. 
 
 At once young Spurgeon began the Christian work for 
 which lie has ever been renowned. He revived a society 
 for tract distribution. He talked in the Sunday-school, 
 and in the vestry of the Independent Chapel, where 
 many gathered to hear him. 
 
 Removing to the school in Cambridge, he joined the 
 " Lay Preachers' Association." He was asked to go to 
 the village of Teversham, four miles from Cambridge, to 
 accompany a friend, for an evening service. On the 
 way, Spurgeon said, " I trust God will bless your labors 
 to-night." 
 
 " My labors ? " said the friend ; " I never preached in 
 my life ; I never thought of doing such a thing. I was 
 asked to walk with yon, and I sincerely hope God will 
 bless you in your preaching." 
 
 Spurgeon was astonished; as he says, "My inmost soul 
 being all in a tremble, as to what would happen." The 
 youth of sixteen preached his first sermon from the 
 words, " Unto you, therefore, which believe he is pre- 
 cious," and spoke to the edification of all present. 
 
 He was soon asked to go to Waterbeach, a small vil- 
 lage, to supply the pulpit. The chapel was a rude one, 
 made out of a barn. In a few months the membership 
 rose from forty to nearly one hundred. The Rev. Mr. 
 Peters had been their pastor for twenty -two years, re- 
 ceiving five pounds for each quarter of the year. 
 
 At this time, says one of the deacons, speaking of the 
 young teacher, u He looked so white, and I thought to 
 myself, he'll never be able to preach. "What a boy he 
 is ! ... I could not make him out ; and one day I 
 asked him wherever he got all the knowledge from that 
 he put into his sermons."
 
 340 ' CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 " c Oh,' said Spurgeon, ' I take a book, and I pull the 
 good tilings out of it by the hair of their heads.' " 
 
 The mayor of Cambridge one day asked Spurgeon if 
 he had really told the people at Waterbeach " that if a 
 thief got into heaven, he would pick the angels' 
 pockets." 
 
 "Yes," replied Spurgeon, "I told them that if it 
 were possible for an ungodly man to go to heaven with- 
 out having his nature changed, he would be none the 
 better for being there ; and then, by way of illustration, 
 I said that were a thief to get in he would remain a 
 thief still, and go round the place picking the angels' 
 pockets." 
 
 " But, my dear young friend, don't you know that the 
 angels have no pockets ?" 
 
 " No, sir," answered the youthful preacher ; but added, 
 with ready wit, " but I am glad to be assured of the fact 
 from a gentleman who does know. I will set it all 
 right." 
 
 Being urged by his father and some others to take a 
 college course, he agreed to meet Dr. Angus, the tutor of 
 Stepney College, now Regents Park, at the house of Mac- 
 millan, the publisher, at Cambridge. Spurgeon went at 
 the time appointed, and was shown into a room, where 
 he waited for two hours for the tutor. Meantime, Dr. 
 Angus had waited in another room, each not having 
 been informed of the presence of the other by the ser- 
 vant; and, unable to wait longer, had taken the train for 
 London. The result was that Spurgeon never went to 
 College. At Cambridge, on the anniversary of the Sun- 
 day-school Union in 18f>3, Spurgeon, then nineteen, was 
 asked to make an address. Mr. Gould, a Baptist deacon, 
 liked the address so much, that he spoke of it to Mr.
 
 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 341 
 
 Thomas Gluey, one of the deacons in New Park Street 
 Chapel, Southwark, which had been one of the largest 
 and richest of the Baptist churches in London. Mr. 
 Gould thought the Waterbeach youth might put new 
 life into the deteriorating church. 
 
 Spurgeon was invited to London to preach a sermon in 
 December, 1853. Scarcely two hundred were in the 
 chapel, which would seat twelve hundred. He preached 
 earnestly from the words, " Every good gift, and every 
 perfect gift, is from above." He was invited to come 
 again for three Sundays in January, and soon asked to 
 preach six months on probation. 
 
 He would not promise for more than three months. 
 At the end of that time the church had filled so rapidly, 
 that he was called to the pastorate ; and before he was 
 twenty, in 1854, was installed over the Baptist Church, 
 with a salary of 150 a year. He came, as he says, 
 to the great city of London, "a country lad," "wonder- 
 ing, praying, fearing, hoping, believing, . . . all alone, 
 and yet not alone; expectant of Divine help, and in- 
 wardly borne down by our sense of the need of it." 
 
 The church building soon became too small for the 
 crowds which gathered to hear him. He was carica- 
 tured in the newspapers, standing beside a l< polished " 
 preacher, with his sermon on a velvet cushion. Spurgeon 
 being called " Brimstone and Treacle." Again he was 
 placarded as a man selling fly-paper, with judges, lords, 
 and workingmen all sticking to his hat, or buzzing 
 around him. This was called, " Catch-em-alive-O ! " 
 He was represented as "The Fast Train," his hair 
 streaming in the wind, driving the engine. He was 
 again pictured as a gorilla. But Mr. Spurgeon kept on 
 preaching, and the interest deepened.
 
 342 CIlAliLES UADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 He has followed the dying words of the great Welsh 
 Baptist minister, Christinas Evan's, who used to drive 
 from town to town in his evangelistic work, " Drive 
 on ! drive on ! " 
 
 " There is such a tendency,'-' Spurgeon once said, " to 
 pull up to refresh ; such a tendency to get out of the gig 
 and say, f What a wonderful horse ! Never saw a horse 
 go over hill and down dale like this horse the best 
 horse that ever was ; real sound Methodist or Baptist 
 horse.' Now, brother, admire your horse as much as 
 ever you like, but drive on ! " 
 
 He worked day and night among his people when the 
 cholera scourge came in the first year of his London 
 pastorate. Neither praise nor blame deterred him in his 
 work. His constant question of his deacons was, l>oth 
 there and at Waterbeach, " Have you heard of anybody 
 finding the Lord?" One said, "I am sure there has 
 been." " Oh," said Spurgeon, " I want to know it, I 
 want to see it ; " and he would at once seek out the 
 inquirer. 
 
 " I have had nothing else to preach," said Mr. Spurgeon, 
 "but Christ crucified. How many souls there are in 
 heaven who have found their way there through that 
 preaching, how many there are still on earth, serving 
 the Master, it is not for me to tell ; but whatever there 
 has been of success has been through the preaching of 
 Christ in the sinner's stead." 
 
 The church building soon became too cramped ; and 
 while it was being enlarged, from February to May, 
 1855, the congregation met in Exeter Hall. As the 
 Strand became blocked with people, a Music Hall in 
 Surrey Gardens was used, where ten thousand people 
 gathered to hear him.
 
 CHARLES H ADDON SPURGEON. 343 
 
 A serious accident soon occurred here through the cry 
 of " Fire ! " by some malicious person ; and in the eager- 
 ness to rush out, seven persons were killed and twenty- 
 eight removed to hospitals, badly injured. For days Mr. 
 Spurgeon was prostrated on account of the accident, and 
 unable to preach. 
 
 After this, services were held only in the morning, 
 attended by the Prime Minister, the nobility, and the 
 poor. Large numbers were converted. Thirty-five 
 years after this time a Surrey Gardens Memorial Hall 
 was erected near this spot, at a cost of 3,000, as one of 
 the many mission-homes in connection with the Taber- 
 nacle work. This commemorates the many conversions 
 in these early days, before the Tabernacle was built. 
 
 The "Greville Memoirs" thus describes the minister of 
 twenty-three, preaching to nine thousand people in the 
 Music Hall. "lie is certainly very remarkable, and 
 undeniably a fine character, not remarkable in person; 
 in face resembling a smaller Macaulay ; a very clear and 
 powerful voice, which was heard through the hall; a 
 manner natural, impassioned, and without affectation or 
 extravagance ; wonderful fluency and command of lan- 
 guage, abounding in illustration, and very often of a 
 very familiar kind, but without anything ridiculous or 
 irreverent. He gave me an impression of his earnestness 
 and sincerity ; speaking without book or notes, yet his 
 discourse was evidently very carefully prepared. . . . 
 He preached for about three-quarters of an hour, and, to 
 judge by the use of the handkerchiefs and the audible 
 sobs, with great effect." 
 
 The corner-stone of the new Tabernacle was laid 
 Aug. 1G, 1859, by Sir Samuel Morton Peto. The 
 building was ready for occupancy in 1SG1. The opening
 
 344 CHARLES 11 ADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 services lasted a month, the first service being a prayer- 
 meeting, held at seven o'clock on Monday morning, 
 March 18. One thousand persons were present. 
 
 The Tabernacle is one hundred and forty-six feet in 
 length, and eighty-one in width. There are five thou- 
 sand five hundred sittings, and many more can be accom- 
 modated. Besides the audience-room, there are rooms 
 for Sunday-schools, working-meetings, and the like. 
 The cost was a little over 31,000, all raised by volun- 
 tary effort. All denominations gave, and all parts of 
 the country responded. Mr. Spurgeon spoke in Scotland, 
 giving half the receipts to some needy pastorate, and 
 reserving half for his new church. The church build- 
 ing has always been crowded, so that pewholders were 
 admitted at the side doors by ticket. For many years 
 there have been over five thousand members in the 
 church. 
 
 MJ-. Spurgeon once said, " Somebody asked me how I 
 got my congregation. 1 never got it at all. . . . Why, 
 my congregation got my congregation ! I had eighty, or 
 scarcely a hundred, when I first preached. The next 
 time I had two hundred every one who had heard me 
 was saying to his neighbor, ' You must go and hear this 
 young man.' Next meeting we had four hundred, and 
 in six weeks, eight hundred." 
 
 It was not enough for Mr. Spurgeon that crowds were 
 nocking to hear him preach ; that in Scotland twenty 
 thousand gathered at a time to listen to him ; that at the 
 Crystal Palace, when he was but twenty -three, more than 
 twenty-three thousand people came together to hear him 
 preach, Oct. 7, 1857, the day of national humiliation 
 on account of the Indian mutiny. 
 
 Others had been converted, and he wanted them to
 
 CHARLES II ADDON SPUEGEON. 345 
 
 preach the gospel. They were for the most part poor, 
 and could provide neither clothing nor books for their 
 term of study. He needed a Pastor's College. 
 
 It began with one student, and increased to several, 
 cared for in a minister's home, and supported by Mr. 
 Spurgeon. 
 
 This incident is related by the Rev. James J. Ellis, of 
 the first student, Mr. T. W. Medhurst. He called upon 
 Spurgeon, and said that he feared he had made a mistake 
 in entering the ministry. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " asked Spurgeon. 
 
 " Well, I've been preaching for five or six months, and 
 have not heard of any conversions." 
 
 " You don't expect conversions every time you preach, 
 do you ? " 
 
 " No, I don't expect them every time," said Mr. 
 Medhurst. 
 
 "Then be it unto you according to your faith," was 
 the reply. " If you expect great tilings from God, you'll 
 get them ; if you don't, you won't." 
 
 " The large sale of my sermons in America, together 
 with my dear wife's economy," writes Mr. Spurgeon, 
 "enabled me to spend from (JOO to 800 a year in my 
 own favorite work; but on a sudden owing to my 
 denunciations of the then existing slavery in the States 
 my entire resources from that ' l>rook C'herith ' were 
 dried up. I paid as large sums as 1 could from my own 
 income, and resolved to spend all 1 had, and then take 
 the cessation of my means as a voice from the Lord to 
 stay the effort ; as I am firmly persuaded that we ought, 
 under no pretence, to go into debt." 
 
 This was Mr. Spurgeon's life-long rule. He once 
 related this story of his childhood. He wanted a slate-
 
 346 CHARLES IIADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 pencil, and liad no money to buy it. So he went to the 
 shop of a Mrs. Dearson, who kept nuts, cakes, and tops, 
 and got trusted for one, the amount of debt being 
 one farthing. His father heard of it, and reprimanded 
 him severely; told the young Charles, "how a boy who 
 would owe a farthing, might one day owe a hundred 
 pounds, and get into prison, and bring his family into 
 disgrace." The child cried bitterly, and hastened to pay 
 the farthing. 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon said in later life, " Debt is so degrading, 
 that if I owed a man a penny, I would walk twenty 
 miles, in the depth of winter, to pay him, sooner than to 
 feel that I was under an obligation. . . . Poverty is 
 hard, but debt is horrible. . . . Without debt, without 
 care ; out of debt, out of danger ; but owing and borrow- 
 ing are bramble-bushes full of thorns. If ever I borrow 
 a spade of my neighbor, I never feel safe with it for fear 
 I should break it." 
 
 " I Avas reduced to the last pound," says Mr. Spur- 
 geon, " when a letter came from a banker in the city, 
 informing me that a lady, whose name I have never 
 been able to discover, had deposited a sum of 200, to 
 be used for the education of young men for the ministry. 
 . . . Some weeks after, another 100 came in from the 
 same bank, as I was informed, from another hand. . . . 
 A supper was given by my liberal publishers, Messrs. 
 Passmore & Alabaster, to celebrate the publishing of my 
 five-hundredth weekly sermon, at which 500 were raised 
 and presented to the funds. The college grew every 
 month, and the number of the students rapidly increased 
 from one to forty. 
 
 A " weekly offering " was soon taken at the church for 
 the Pastor's College. This in the year 1869 amounted
 
 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 347 
 
 to 1,869. When "seasons of straitness " came, as 
 Spurgeon says, the " Lord always interposed." On one 
 occasion, 1,000 came from an unknown source. 
 
 Mr. G. Holden Pike says of these weekly offerings, 
 " How high a figure the total reached nobody knew ; for, 
 as Sunday is a day of rest, the money Avould not be 
 counted until the following morning. Gold, silver, and 
 copper pieces, together with little packets neatly tied 
 with thread, made up the motley heap. One miniature 
 parcel enclosed fifteen shillings from ' A workingman.' 
 When the whole mass was placed in a strong black bag, 
 I ventured to raise it for the sake of testing its weight. 
 . . . It was certainly the 'heaviest' collection I had 
 ever set eyes upon, for it was as much as one could con- 
 veniently raise from the table with one arm." 
 
 A yearly supper was provided by Mr. Spurgeon, at 
 which guests gave as they were able or inclined. * At 
 this supper in 1891, 3,000 were subscribed. 
 
 After a time the College buildings were erected near 
 the Tabernacle property. A lady gave 3,000 as a me- 
 morial to her husband ; 2,000 were left as a legacy 
 by a reader of the sermons. The cost of the buildings, 
 15,000, was paid as soon as the work was done. 
 
 The whole number added to the churches by these 
 men educated at the Pastor's College i, as nearly as can 
 be ascertained, considerably over one hundred thousand. 
 Some of these men have gone to India, China, the West 
 Indies, Africa, Australia, among the Jews, and elsewhere. 
 
 The annual address of the President, Mr. Spurgeon, 
 was eagerly looked for. That given in IS',11, '- The 
 Greatest Fight in the World," in defence of the Inspira- 
 tion of the Bible, has been translated into French, Ger- 
 man, Danish, and other languages.
 
 348 CUAliLES II ADDON. SPURGEON. 
 
 In 1866 another important work was laid upon the 
 busy preacher, whose hands seemed already full. The 
 widow of an Episcopal clergyman, Mrs. Hillyard, was 
 desirous of giving 20,000 to found an orphanage for 
 boys. She was personally unknown to Mr. Spurgeon, but 
 had read his sermons, and had great faith in his spiritu- 
 ality and sense. 
 
 Another lady, her husband having given her 500 
 on the twenty-fifth anniversary of their marriage, made 
 a present of it to the Orphanage. One house was built 
 with it, called " The Silver "Wedding House." A gen- 
 tleman gave 600 for another house ; an unknown donor 
 1,000 for two other houses, and soon after 2,000 more. 
 
 In 1868 the Baptist churches of England gave Mr. 
 Spurgeon 1,765 for the Orphanage. One building is 
 called " The Merchant's House ; " another, " The Work- 
 meVs House." 
 
 At the close of 1860, all the buildings or houses for 
 the orphan boys were completed in Stockwell, on the 
 Clapham Road, free from debt, at a cost of 10,200, 
 Mrs. Hillyard's funds being used for endowment. 
 
 When the funds were low, for Mr. Spurgeon says, 
 "Our boys persist in eating, and wearing out their 
 clothes," money was raised by a bazaar, by a fete on 
 his birthday, or in some other way. 
 
 The long row of attractive houses for boys did not h'll 
 Mr. Spurgeon's heart ; there must be similar homes for 
 girls. 
 
 In September, 1870, Mr. Spurgeon writes, " Our friends 
 know that we bought a house and grounds called " The 
 Hawthorns," for 4,000. This we needed to pay for. 
 For various reasons the payment of the purchase-money 
 for ' The Hawthorns ' was delayed until July 30 ; and on
 
 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 349 
 
 that very morning we received a letter telling us that a 
 gentleman had died, and left 1,500 for the Girls' Or- 
 phanage, thus bringing up our total to within a very small 
 sum of the amount required. The whole 4,000 is now 
 secured, including this legacy, and the property is our 
 own." 
 
 Not long after, the 11,000 necessary for the first 
 block of buildings was obtained. 
 
 In January, 1882, a great bazaar was held, which in 
 three days netted the sum of 2,000 for the Girls' 
 Orphanage. In his opening speech at this bazaar Mr. 
 Spurgeon said, " We don't want to sell anything that is 
 not worth the money paid for it ; for we think that such 
 should not be the case when the object is to benefit 
 orphan children. When you leave here, you need not 
 be in the plight of the gentleman who was met by foot- 
 pads on his way home. ' Your money or your life ! ' 
 demanded one of them. 
 
 " ' My dear fellow, I have not a farthing about me. 
 Do you know where I have been ? I have been to a 
 bazaar.' 
 
 " ' Oh, if you've been to a bazaar, we should not think 
 of taking any money from you. We'll make a subscrip- 
 tion all round, and give you something to help you home.' 
 That is a bazaar as it ought not to be." 
 
 About one thousand boys and girls are now in the 
 Stockwell Orphanage, the larger number of the children 
 coming from Church of England families. Some are 
 also from Roman Catholic, Presbyterian, and Methodist 
 families, as well as Uaptist. 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon tells this story : " Sitting down in the 
 Orphanage grounds, upon one of the seats, we were talking 
 with a brother trustee, when a funny little fellow, we
 
 350 CHARLES IIADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 should think about eight years of age, left the other boys 
 who were playing around us, and came deliberately up to 
 us. He opened fire in this fashion, ' Please, Mister 
 Spurgeon, I wants to come and sit down on the seat be- 
 tween you two gentlemen.' 
 
 " ' Come along, Bob and tell us what you want.' 
 
 " ' Please, Mister Spurgeon, suppose there was a little 
 boy who had no father, who lived in an orphanage with 
 a lot of other little boys who had no fathers ; and sup- 
 pose those little boys had mothers and aunts who corned 
 once a month and brought them apples and oranges, and 
 gave them pennies ; and suppose this little boy had no 
 mother and no aunt, and so never came to bring him nice 
 things ; don't you think somebody ought to give him a 
 penny ? 'Cause, Mister Spurgeon, that's me ! " 
 
 Bob received a sixpence from Mr. Spurgeon, and went 
 away with face all aglow. 
 
 The Orphanage covers four acres. Each house is com- 
 plete in itself, and has its own "mother." The boys dine 
 in a common hall; the girls in their respective houses. 
 Both boys and girls assist in domestic duties. "The 
 children are not dressed in a uniform," says Mr. Spur- 
 geon, " to mark them as the recipients of charity." 
 
 In 1876 the Redpath Lecture Bureau of Boston asked 
 Mr. Spurgeon to come to America and lecture, they offer- 
 ing to pay him $1,000 in gold for each lecture, and all 
 expenses from England to America and return ; but he 
 declined the offer. He did not care to lecture, and 
 would not preach for money. 
 
 On Wednesday evening, June 18, 1884, a remarkable 
 jubilee service was held in the Tabernacle on Mr. Spur- 
 geon's fiftieth birthday. Among the speakers was Mr. 
 Spurgeon's father, the Rev. John Spurgeon ; his brother,
 
 CUARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 351 
 
 the Rev. James A. Spurgeon, of whom Charles said, " If 
 there is a good man on the earth, I think it is my 
 brother ; " and the son of the great preacher, young 
 Charles Spurgeon, one of the twins, affectionately called 
 by the people, Charlie and Tommy. Both are ministers 
 of the gospel. D. L. Moody from America also made 
 an earnest address. 
 
 On the following evening the good Earl of Shaftes- 
 bury presided, and spoke with his wonted power. 
 "Whatever Mr. Spurgeon is in private he is in the 
 pulpit," said the earl ; " and what he is in the pulpit he 
 is in private. He is one and the same man in every 
 aspect; and a kinder, better, honester, nobler man never 
 existed on the face of the earth." 
 
 Canon Basil Wilberforce, the son of the Bishop, the 
 Rev. Dr. Newman Hall, and others spoke. The Rev. 
 Dr. 0. P. Gifford presented an address from the Baptist 
 ministers of Boston and vicinity. 
 
 A Spurgeon Jubilee Fund of 45,000 was given at this 
 time. Five years previously a larger sum was given him, 
 3,000 of it being raised by a bazaar; and a large part 
 of this money was used for seventeen almshouses, in 
 which are the aged members of the Tabernacle. These 
 are near the Elephant and Castle Station. 
 
 Another important agency for Christian work in con- 
 nection with the Tabernacle is the Colportage Associa-. 
 tion, founded in 18f>(>. The colporteurs sell religious 
 books, conduct t (>m P oranf>o ail( ^ open-air meetings, dis- 
 tribute tracts, visit the sick, and are really home mis- 
 sionaries. The yearly distribution is about a half 
 million Bibles, and as many, or more, books and 
 periodicals. 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon loved to give away the Bible. He
 
 352 CHARLES II ADDON SPUltGEON. 
 
 once said before the British and Foreign Bible Society, 
 " Somebody may say it is of very little use to give away 
 Bibles and Testaments. That is a very great mistake. 
 I have very seldom found it to be a labor in vain to give 
 a present of a Testament. I was greatly astonished 
 about a month ago. A cabman drove me home, and when 
 I paid him his fare, he said, ' It is a long time since I 
 drove you last, sir.' 
 
 " ' But,' said I, ' I do not recollect you ! ' 
 
 " ' Well/ he said, ' I think it is fourteen years ago ; 
 but,' he added, 'perhaps you will know this Testament?' 
 pulling one out of his pocket. 
 
 " ' What,' I said, < did I give you that ? ' " 
 
 " ' Oh, yes ! ' he said ; ' and you spoke to me about my 
 soul, and nobody had done that before, and I have never 
 forgotten it.' 
 
 " l What,' said I, ' haven't you worn it out ? ' 
 
 " 'No,' he said, 'I would not wear it out; I have had 
 it bound." ' 
 
 Besides this society, there are ten Bible classes in thn 
 Tabernacle ; a Loan Tract Society, for the distribution 
 of Mr. Spurgeon's sermons in the neighborhood, and an- 
 other to spread them in country districts ; a Flower Mis- 
 sion, Maternal Society, Mothers' Meetings, Training Class 
 for workers, and the like. There are twenty-three mis- 
 ,sion stations in connection with the Tabernacle, and 
 twenty-seven Sunday-schools, with over eight thousand 
 scholars. 
 
 With all this work, Mr. Spurgeon was a voluminous 
 writer, as well as speaker. He published thirty-seven 
 volumes of sermons, all of which have had an immense 
 circulation. These were regularly printed in many 
 papers. In Australia some of these were published
 
 CUARLES U ADDON SPURGEON. 353 
 
 and paid for as advertisements, at a fabulous price, 
 by a gentleman deeply interested in doing good. 
 
 The Rev. Thomas Spurgeon wrote home to his father, 
 from Australia, " I received a visit, in Geelong, from a 
 man who produced from his pocket a torn and discolored 
 copy of The Australasian, dated June, 18G8, which 
 contained a sermon by C. H. Spurgeon, entitled, ' The 
 Approachableness of Jesus ' (No. 809). To this sermon 
 my visitor attributed his conversion. 
 
 "He lived alone, about twenty miles from Geelong, 
 and had not entered a place of worship more than four 
 or five times in twenty years, and had taken to drink, 
 until delirium tremens seized upon him. When partially 
 recovered, with not a human being near, his eye lighted 
 on the sermon in the newspaper, which brought him to 
 Jesus." 
 
 Mr. Pike says an admirer of Mr. Spurgeon gave away 
 a qiiarter of a million copies of these sermons. Many 
 were elegantly bound, and presented to the crowned 
 heads of Europe. Others were sent to every member of 
 Parliament, and to all the students of Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge. Many of these sermons have been translated 
 into German, French, Welsh, Italian, Swedish, Danish, 
 Russian, Spanish, Gaelic, Hungarian, Arabic, Telegu, 
 Hindustani, Syriac, and other languages. 
 
 These sermons have been scattered all over the world. 
 At Bryher, one of the Scilly Isles, with a population of 
 one hundred and twenty persons, Spurgeon's sermons 
 are often read in the chapel. In Silesia and Russian 
 Poland, many asked about " Brother Spurgeon," and 
 read his sermons. On the Labrador coast they were 
 read in a mission church Sunday after Sunday. 
 
 In 1880 a Red Kaffir, living at Port Elizabeth, South 
 Africa, wrote to Mr. Spurgeon:
 
 354 CHARLES IIADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 " Dear Sir, I don't know how to describe my joy and 
 my feelings in this present moment. We never did see 
 each other face to face, but still there is something be- 
 tween you and me which guided me to make these few 
 lines for you. One day, as I was going to my daily 
 work, I met a friend of mine in the street. We spoke 
 about the word of God, and he asked me whether I had 
 ever seen one of Mr. Spurgeon's books. . . . 
 
 " He said he bought it from a bookseller. I asked 
 the name of the book, and he said it was ' The Metropol- 
 itan Tabernacle Pulpit; ' and I went straight to the shop, 
 and bought one. I have read a good bit of it. On my 
 reading it, I arrived on a place where Job said, ' Though 
 he slay me, yet will I trust in Him.' 
 
 " I am sure I can't tell how to describe the goodness 
 you have done to us, we black people of South Africa. 
 We are black not only outside, even inside ; I wouldn't 
 mind to be a black man only in color. It is a terrible 
 thing to be a black man from the soul to the skin ; but 
 still I am very glad to say your sermons have done 
 something good to me." . . . 
 
 David Livingstone carried one of these sermons with 
 him, No. 408, entitled "Accidents not Punishments," in 
 his last sad journey to Africa. Yellow and travel- 
 stained it was found by his daughter Mrs. Bruce in his 
 boxes after his death. He had written across the top, 
 " Very good. D. L." 
 
 His son Thomas writes his mother from Auckland, 
 New Zealand, concerning sermon No. 735, "Loving 
 Advice for Anxious Seekers," copied into the Melbourne 
 Argus, " This scrap of newspaper has been given to me 
 by a town missionary here, who regards it as a very pre- 
 cious relic. It came to him from a man who died in the
 
 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 355 
 
 hospital, and bequeathed it to his visitor as a great treas- 
 ure. The man found it on the floor of a hut in Austra- 
 lia, and was brought by its perusal to a knowledge of 
 the truth as it is in Jesus. He kept it carefully while he 
 lived (for it was discolored and torn when he found it), 
 and -on his death-bed gave' it to the missionary as the 
 only treasure he had to leave behind him." 
 
 In writing " The Treasury of David," seven volumes, 
 Mr. Spurgeon spent a considerable part of twenty years. 
 "During the whole of that period," says the Rev. llobert 
 Shindler, in his valuable life of Spurgeon, "Mr. J. L. 
 Keys, one of Mr. Spurgeon's secretaries, continued to 
 search the library of the British Museum, and other li- 
 braries, and to cull from every available source everything 
 worthy of quotation upon the book of Psalms." Over 
 one hundred and twenty thousand volumes have been 
 sold. Dr. Philip Schaff thought it "the most impor- 
 tant homiletical and practical work of the age on the 
 Psalter." 
 
 Of Spurgeon's " Morning by Morning " and " Evening 
 by Evening," for home reading and devotions, over two 
 hundred thousand copies have been sold. 
 
 " Commenting and Commentaries " was a work of 
 great labor, showing his students and others what to 
 use. " If I can save a poor man," he wrote, " from 
 spending his money for that which is not bread, or, by 
 directing a brother to a good book, may enable him to 
 dig deeper into the mines of truth, I shall be well repaid. 
 For this purpose I have toiled, and read much, and 
 passed under review some three or four thousand 
 volumes." 
 
 Twenty-seven volumes of the Sword and Trowel, Mr. 
 Spurgeon's magazine, have had an enormous circulation.
 
 356 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 This is also true of " Lectures to My Students," abound- 
 ing in sensible suggestions. To those about to become 
 ministers he says : 
 
 " Avoid little debts, unpunctuality, gossiping, nick- 
 naming, petty quarrels, and all other of those little vices 
 which fill the ointment with flies. . . . 
 
 "Even in your recreations, remember that you are 
 ministers. . . . His private life must ever keep good 
 tune with his ministry, or his day will soon set with him, 
 and the sooner he retires the better ; for his continuance 
 in his office will only dishonor the cause of God and ruin 
 himself." 
 
 Spurgeon urged private prayer upon his young men, 
 and related this incident from Father Faber : " A certain 
 preacher, whose sermons converted men by the scores, 
 received a revelation from heaven that not one of the 
 conversions was owing to his talents or eloquence, but 
 all to the prayers of an illiterate lay brother, who sat on 
 the pulpit steps, pleading all the time for the success of 
 the sermon." 
 
 The great John Knox used to say he " wondered how 
 a Christian could lie in his bed all night and not rise to 
 pray." 
 
 Of public prayer, Spurgeon said, " Do not let your 
 prayer be long. . . . 'He prayed me into a good frame of 
 mind,' George Whitefield once said of a certain preacher, 
 ' and if he had stopped there, it would have been very 
 well ; but he prayed me out of it again by keeping on/ " 
 
 Of the sermon lie said, " Preach CUBIST always and 
 evermore. He is the whole gospel. . . . Your pulpit 
 preparations are your first business. A man great at tea- 
 drinkings, evening parties, and Sunday-school excursions 
 is generally little everywhere else.
 
 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 357 
 
 " The sensible minister will be particularly gentle in 
 argument," said Spurgeon. "He should take care not to 
 engross all the conversation," and at the same time, " do 
 not be a dummy." 
 
 " Have a good word to say to each and every member 
 of the family, the big boys and the young ladies and 
 the little girls and everybody. No one knows what a 
 smile and a hearty sentence may do. A man who is to 
 do much with men must love them, and feel at home with 
 them. An individual who has no geniality about him 
 had better be an undertaker, and bury the dead, for he 
 will never succeed in influencing the living." 
 
 " Be cool and confident. As Sydney Smith says, ' A 
 great deal of talent is lost to the world for want of a lit- 
 tle courage.' . . . When a speaker feels, ' I am master 
 of the situation,' he usually is so." 
 
 " If a man would speak without any present study, he 
 must usually study much." This Mr. Spurgeon exem- 
 plified in his own life. Dr. Theodore Cuyler of New 
 York wrote, after visiting Spurgeon at his home, " West- 
 wood," Beulah Hill, Upper Norwood, " a rural paradise," 
 as he says, "Saturday afternoon is his holiday. For an 
 hour he conducted us over his delightful grounds, and 
 through his garden and conservatory, and then to a rustic 
 arbor, where be entertained us with one of his racy talks, 
 which are as characteristic as his sermons. . . . 
 
 " It was six o'clock on Saturday when we bade him 
 ' Good-by,' and he assured us that he had not yet 
 selected even the texts for next day's discourses. * I 
 shall go down in the garden presently,' said lie, 'and 
 arrange my morning discourse and choose a text for that 
 in the evening; then to-morrow afternoon, before preach- 
 ing, I will make an outline of the second one.' . . . He
 
 358 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 never composes a sentence in advance, and rarely spends 
 over half an hour in laying out the plan of a sermon. 
 Constant study fills his mental cask, and he has only to 
 turn the spigot and draw." 
 
 Again he says, " To acquire the art of impromptu 
 speech, one must practise it. It was by slow degrees, as 
 Burke says, that Charles Fox became the most brilliant 
 and powerful debater that ever lived. He attributed 
 his success to the resolution which he formed when very 
 young of speaking well or ill at least once every night. 
 ' During five whole seasons,' he used to say, ' I spoke 
 every night but one, and I regret only that I did not 
 speak on that night too.' At first he may do so with no 
 other auditory than the chairs and books of his study." 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon's suggestions about voice, gesture, and 
 throat are helpful. "Think nothing little," he says, "by 
 which you may be even a little more useful. But, 
 gentlemen, never degenerate in this business into pulpit 
 fops, who think gesture and voice to be everything. . . . 
 When you have done preaching, take care of your 
 throat by never wrapping it iip tlyhtly. ... If any 
 brother wants to die of influenza, let him wear a warm 
 scarf round his neck, and then one of these nights he 
 Avill forget it, and catch such a cold as will last him the 
 rest of his natural life. You seldom see a sailor wrap 
 his neck up." Mr. Spurgeon used beef-tea, strong with 
 pepper, for his throat, or a little glass of Chili vinegar 
 and water. 
 
 "Beware of being actors! Never give earnest men the 
 impression that you do not mean what you say, and are 
 mere professionals. To be burning at the lips and freez- 
 ing at the soul is a mark of reprobation. . . . 
 
 " Away with gold rings and chains and jewellery ! 
 Why should the pulpit become a goldsmith's shop ? "
 
 CHAliLES HADDON SPURGEON. 359 
 
 To gain and keep the attention, he says, " The first 
 golden rule is, always say something worth hearing. . . . 
 Let the good matter which you give them be very clearly 
 arranged. ... Be sure, moreover, to speak plainly. . . . 
 Do not make the introduction too long. ... Be inter- 
 ested yourself, and you will interest others. . . . Many 
 ministers are more than half asleep all through the ser- 
 mon ; indeed, they never were awake at any time, and 
 probably never will be unless a cannon should be fired 
 off near their ear. 
 
 " A very useful help in securing attention is a pause. 
 Pull up short every now and then, and the passengers on 
 your coach will wake up. . . . The next best thing to 
 the grace of God for a preacher is oxygen. Pray that 
 the windows of heaven may be opened, but begin by 
 opening the windows of your meeting-house. 
 
 "Be masters of your Bibles, brethren. . . . Having 
 given precedence to the inspired writings, neglect no 
 field of knowledge. . . . Know nothing of parties and 
 cliques, but be the pastor of all the flock, and care for 
 all alike." 
 
 He urged them not to mind gossips, " who drink tea 
 and talk vitriol;" and "to opinions and remarks about 
 yourself turn also, as a general rule, the blind eye and 
 the deaf ear." 
 
 Of Mr. Spurgeon's most popular books, " John Plough- 
 man's Talk ; or, I'laiu Advice for Plain People," and 
 "John Ploughman's Pictures; or, More of His Plain 
 Talk for Plain People," over four hundred and fifty 
 thousand volumes have been sold. These are full of 
 helpful words in homely garb, but most useful for rich 
 and poor alike. 
 
 " Don't wait for helpers," he says. t( Try those two
 
 360 CHARLES 1IADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 old friends, your .strong arias. . . . Don't be whining 
 about not having a fair start. . . . The more you have 
 to begin with, the less you will have at the end. Money 
 you earn yourself is much brighter and sweeter than any 
 you get out of dead men's bags. ... As for the place 
 you are cast in, don't find fault with that. Yon need 
 not be a horse because you were born in a stable. . . . 
 A fool may make money, but it needs a wise man to 
 spend it. If you give all to back and board, there is 
 nothing left for the savings bank. Fare hard and work 
 hard while you are young, and you have a chance of rest 
 when you are old. . . . No matter what comes in, if 
 more goes out you will always be poor. . . . Plod is the 
 word. Every one must row with such oars as he has. 
 . . . Never be security for more than you are quite 
 willing to lose." 
 
 Spurgeon was an untiring worker. He had no respect 
 for idleness. " Many of our squires," he said, " have 
 nothing to do but to part their hair in the middle ; and 
 many of the London grandees, ladies and gentlemen 
 both alike, as I am told, have no better work than kill- 
 ing time. . . . The greater these 'people are, the more 
 their idleness is noticed, and the more they ought to be 
 ashamed of it. 
 
 " I don't say they ought to plough, but 1 do say that 
 they ought to do something for the state, besides being 
 like the caterpillars on the cabbage, eating up the good 
 things ; or like the butterflies, showing themselves off, 
 but making no honey. . . . 
 
 " Let me drop on these Surrey Hills, worn out . . . 
 sooner than eat bread and cheese and never earn it ; 
 better die an honorable death, than live a good-for-noth- 
 ing life.
 
 CHARLES IIADDON SPUEGEON. 3G1 
 
 " Rash vows are much better broken than kept. He 
 who never changes, never mends. . . . Learn to say 
 ' No/ and it will be of more use to you than to be able to 
 read Latin. 
 
 " An open mouth shows an empty head. Still waters 
 are the deepest, but the shallowest brook brawls the 
 most. . . . Beware of every one who swears ; he who 
 would blaspheme his Maker would make no bones of 
 lying or stealing. . . . Commit all your secrets to no 
 man . . . seeing that men are but men, and all men are 
 frail." 
 
 In "John Ploughman's Pictures " he says, " He who 
 cannot curb his temper carries gunpowder in his bosom, 
 and he is neither safe for himself nor his neighbors. . . . 
 Anger is a fire which cooks 110 victuals, and comforts no 
 households ; it cuts and curses and kills, and no one 
 knows what it may lead to. ... It takes a great deal 
 out of a man to get in a towering rage ; it is almost as 
 unhealthy as having a fit. . . . Shun a furious man as 
 you would a mad dog. ... A man in a thorough pas- 
 sion is as sad a sight as to see a neighbor's house on fire, 
 and no water handy to put out the flames." Mr. Spur- 
 geon's books number about one hundred volumes. 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon was blest in his home-life. On Jan. 8, 
 1S5(5, he married Susannah Thompson, daughter of Mr. 
 Robert Thompson, of Falcon Square. He was married 
 in new Park Street Chapel, before the Tabernacle was 
 built. The church was full at the ceremony, while two 
 thousand persons outside were unable to enter. 
 
 Their twin sons, Charles and Thomas, their only chil- 
 dren, have always been a comfort to them. The wife 
 has long been an invalid, but has been enabled to do 
 great good in her home and out of it.
 
 362 CHARLES IIADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon once said of her, " My experience of my 
 first wife, who will, I hope, live to be my last, is much 
 as follows : Matrimony came from Paradise, and leads to 
 it. I never was half so happy before I was a married 
 man as I am now. ... I have no doubt that where 
 there is much love there will be much to love, and where 
 love is scant, faults will be plentiful. If there is only 
 one good wife in England, I am the man who put the 
 ring on her finger, and long may she wear it. God bless 
 the dear soul ! if she can put up with me, she shall never 
 be put down by me." 
 
 From Hull he once wrote her a poem, beginning, 
 
 " Over the space that parts us, my wife, 
 
 I'll cast me a bridge of song : 
 Our hearts shall meet, O joy of my life, 
 On its arch unseen, but strong." 
 
 " Unkind and domineering husbands," he said, " ought 
 not to pretend to be Christians, for they act clean con- 
 trary to Christ's commands." 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon once said of home, " That word home 
 always sounds like poetry to me. It sings like a peal of 
 bells at a wedding, only more soft and sweet, and it 
 chimes deeper into the ears of my heart." 
 
 Concerning beer-shops he wrote, " Beer-shops are the 
 enemies of home, and therefore the sooner their licences 
 are taken away the better. . . . Those beer-shops are 
 the curse of this country ; no good ever can come of 
 them, and the evil they do no tongue can tell. ... I 
 wish the man who made the law to open them had to 
 keep all the families that they have brought to ruin." 
 
 Again he writes, " Certain neighbors of mine laugh
 
 CHARLES II ADDON SPUliGEON. 363 
 
 at me for being a teetotaller, and I might well laugh at 
 them for being drunk, only I feel more inclined to cry 
 that they should be such fools." 
 
 Mrs. Spurgeon's " Book Fund " l is well known. In 
 the summer of 1875 Mr. Spurgeon published the first 
 volume of " Lectures to My Students." His wife, feel- 
 ing that they would do great good, desired to place them 
 in the hands of ministers. Speaking to her husband 
 about it, he said. "Why not do so ? How much will you 
 give ? " 
 
 She had been keeping for years all the crown-pieces 
 which came in her way ; and on counting them, found 
 that she had just enough to send away one hundred 
 copies of the book. Others learned of this work, and 
 were glad to aid it. 
 
 During the fifteen years since the Book Fund was 
 started, up to 1890, there have been distributed by Mrs. 
 Spurgeon to needy ministers of all denominations, a hun- 
 dred and twenty-two thousand one hundred and twenty- 
 nine volumes, largely Mr. Spurgeon's sermons. '' The 
 Treasury of David," and other works. The books of 
 other authors have also been used. 
 
 Besides books, clothing and other needed things have 
 been sent to ministers whose salary was the meagre sum 
 of sixty-five pounds per annum, or less. One village 
 pastor for twenty years had received but sixty pounds 
 yearly, and sometimes only forty-five pounds. Some had 
 not purchased a new book in several years, and wrote 
 back most thankful letters. 
 
 The money for this work has been furnished by the 
 very poor as well as the rich. After the death of a 
 
 1 An account of her work may be found in my l>ook, "Social 
 Studies in England."
 
 364 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 
 
 woman who had had a struggle to support herself by her 
 needle, more than two pounds, all in three-penny pieces, 
 were found wrapped up in a drawer " dedicated to the 
 Lord's work under the hand of Mrs. Spurgeou." 
 
 Mr. Spurgeou had suffered from rheumatism for many 
 years, and had been obliged sometimes in Avinter to go 
 to Mentone, in the South of France. In the middle of 
 May, 1891, he had an attack of la grippe, from which, 
 after a serious illness, he seemed to rally ; but this was 
 only temporary. 
 
 On all sides there was the greatest interest and sym- 
 pathy. The Prince of Wales, Gladstone, the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, Chief Rabbi Hermann Adler, and scores 
 of the highest in the land, all religious sects, all classes, 
 sent letters or telegrams, to hear about the distinguished 
 sufferer. Gladstone wrote of his " cordial admiration, 
 not only of his splendid powers, but still more of his 
 devoted and unfailing character." 
 
 And Spurgeon added to the letter sent back by his 
 wife, July 18, 1891, these lines, " Yours is a word of love 
 such as those only write who have been into the King's 
 country, and have seen much of His face My heart's 
 love to you." 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon was always an admirer of Mr. Gladstone, 
 which was heartily reciprocated. In the year 1880 the 
 former took, for him, an unusually active part in politics. 
 Having to preach for a friend, the Ilev. John Offord, 
 Mr. Spurgeon said to him, " I should have been here a 
 quarter of an hour sooner, only I stopped to vote." 
 
 " My dear friend," said Offord, " I thought you were a 
 citizen of the New Jerusalem, and not of this world." 
 
 " So I am," was the reply ; " but I have an old man in 
 me yet, and he is a citizen of the world."
 
 C1IAKLES H ADDON SPUEGEON. 365 
 
 "But you ought to mortify him." 
 
 " So I do ; for he's an old Tory, and I make him vote 
 Liberal," replied Spurgeon. 
 
 In the autumn of 1891, the month of October, the 
 preacher started for Mentone, his friends singing the 
 Doxology as he left Hearnc Hill Station, London. 
 " Baron Rothschild's private saloon-carriage was placed 
 at Mr. Spurgeon's service to travel in throughout France 
 to Mentone." 
 
 Mr. Spurgeon grew better in the warm climate for a 
 time, and wrote back letters to his church. He soon 
 failed, however ; and on the last day of January, 1892, 
 on Sunday, at five minutes past eleven at night, at Hotel 
 Beau Rivage, he passed away. At half-past three he 
 had been unable to recognize his wife, or other friends. 
 He grew weaker, .and the end was painless. 
 
 The next day the body was almost hidden from sight 
 by the flowers sent by friends. It was embalmed, sealed 
 up in a leaden case, and this was enclosed in a coffin of 
 olive-wood. On it were the last Scripture words uttered 
 by Mr. Spurgeon to his secretary, Mr. J. AY. Harrald. be- 
 fore his death, " I have fought a good tight, I have fin- 
 ished my course, I have kept the faith." 
 
 After service, Thursday, Feb. 4, at the Scottish Church 
 at Mentone, the body was taken to London, where an 
 immense crowd awaited its coining. 
 
 Through all of Tuesday, Feb. 9, the body lay in state 
 in his beloved Tabernacle. Friends had been requested 
 not to send flowers, but to use the money which they 
 wcmld have expended thus, for the Stock well Orphanage. 
 Yet the body was covered with flowers notwithstanding 
 the request. AVednesday was spent in memorial services, 
 the Tabernacle being crowded until after midnight.
 
 CHARLES II ADDON 8PURGEON. 
 
 At eleven o'clock Thursday, the llth, the public fu- 
 neral service was held. Deputations from sixty religious 
 associations were present. Members of the House of 
 Commons, the Baroness Burdett-Coutts, bishops and 
 laity, all came to honor the distinguished preacher. 
 
 The boys of Stockwell Orphanage sang the last hymn 
 announced by Mr. Spurgeon before he became ill, 
 
 " The sands of time are sinking, 
 The dawn of heaven breaks, 
 The summer morn I've sighed for, 
 The fair sweet morn awakes." 
 
 Dr. A. T. Pierson of the United States delivered an 
 earnest address, and the coffin was borne down the aisle, 
 while the great congregation rose and sang, 
 
 "There is no night in Homeland." 
 
 Through four miles of streets, crowds lining the way, 
 the large mourning procession passed, forty coaches and 
 a vast number of private carriages. Flags were at half- 
 mast, bells were tolled, and houses were draped with black. 
 
 At Stockwell Orphanage, on a raised platform covered 
 with the emblems of mourning, five hundred boys and 
 girls, who had loved the great man, once as poor as they, 
 saw the solemn procession pass to the grave. Norwood 
 Cemetery, where none had been admitted save by ticket, 
 was already thronged. After a brief service, the Bishop 
 of Rochester pronounced the benediction, and the sor- 
 rowing crowd went back to their homes. 
 
 More than two years afterwards, March 21, 1.894, the 
 Rev. Thomas Spurgeon was called to succeed his father 
 at the Metropolitan Tabernacle.
 
 CHARLES II ADDON SPURGEON. 3G7 
 
 The manifold work of Charles Haddon Spurgeon will 
 go on forever, through his books, and through those 
 whose steps he has turned heavenward. 
 
 Say not his work is done; 
 No deed of love or goodness ever dies, 
 But in the great hereafter multiplies: 
 
 .Say it is just begun.
 
 PHILLIPS BPvOOKS. 
 
 "I NEVER met any man, or any ecclesiastic, half so 
 natural, so manly, so large-hearted, so intensely Catholic 
 in the only real sense, so loyally true in his friendships, 
 so absolutely unselfish, so modest, so unartificial, so self- 
 forgetful. ... A blessing and a gracious presence has 
 vanished out of many lives. With a very sad heart I 
 bid him farewell . . . the noblest, truest, and most stain- 
 less man I ever knew." Thus wrote Canon Farrar of 
 London in The Review of Reviews for March, 1893, two 
 months after the death of Phillips Brooks. 
 
 The various pulpits, the press, the millionnaires, the 
 poor, and the lonely, all felt and said nearly the same 
 thing. Canon Farrar wrote elsewhere, before Dr. 
 Brooks's death, "I cannot recall the name of a single 
 divine among us, of any rank, who either equals him 
 as a preacher, or has the large sympathies and the rich 
 endowments which distinguish him as a man." 
 
 The Nation said, " The death of Phillips Brooks 
 strikes down the greatest figure left to the American 
 church." 
 
 The Rev. Stopford W. Brooke, of the First Unitarian 
 Church of Boston, said, " He was so vigorous, so noble, so 
 persuasive, so ever welcome a guest of all our hearts, that 
 we had almost forgotten he, too, was mortal. . . . We 
 never once doubted his sincerity, or his large, pure, 
 
 368
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS.
 
 PHILLIPS miooKS. 369 
 
 generous humanity. There was a power in his presence, 
 his smile, the grasp of his hand, that deep and magnifi- 
 cent eye, which triumphed, unconsciously to himself, over 
 all our haggling differences of temperament and opinion, 
 and drew, by the same unconsciousness of itself, our best 
 manhood to his side. I think this long consistent un- 
 consciousness of himself was one of the great qualities 
 that so endeared him to us all. Here was a man pos- 
 sessed of most remarkable gifts, an extraordinary vi- 
 tality, an astonishing ' volume velocity ' and beauty of 
 language, a rich and fertile imagination which idealized 
 everything it touched, a power of feeling which rose and 
 swept into his audience like the tides in the Bay of 
 Fundy; and yet he never seemed aware that he was 
 anything exceptional. ... I believe that greatness is 
 more common, goodness is far more common, than that 
 \inconsciousness with which he wore his greatness and 
 goodness." 
 
 Stopford Brooke speaks of another remarkable charac- 
 teristic of Phillips Brooks, u His radiance and his joy. 
 No one who has read at all carefully the literature of 
 our time can have failed to remark how dominant in it 
 is the note of sadness. The leaders of the past genera- 
 tion bore, with a certain sombre melancholy, the burden 
 of the chaos, as Carlyle puts it, which they were en- 
 deavoring to fashion into cosmos." 
 
 Not so "Phillips Brooks. "Goodness and happiness, 
 duty and joy, were constant companions in his life. We 
 looked at him. listened to him, talked with him, and 
 knew he had saved and kept through many long years 
 the soul's best secret. Through <\\\ that he said and did 
 there ran this river, fresh, clear, and abundant, of inner 
 joy. What an inspiration that joy was to us ! "
 
 370 PHILLIPS n ROOKS. 
 
 Dr. Samuel Eliot, a member of Phillips Brooks's 
 church, and his life-long friend, says in the eulogy of 
 him, delivered at the Boston Memorial Meeting, " He was 
 blessed with a hopefulness of which most of us have but 
 a comparatively scanty share. No trait of his was 
 more conspicuous. No single source of his power over 
 his generation was more abundant or more effective. 
 Whatever the foreground' might harbor in shadows, he 
 looked beyond into the distance and saw it radiant. . . . 
 
 " How he helped others to be hopeful also, how many 
 shackles he thus loosed from the heavy-laden, how he 
 thus encouraged his people to work their way forward to 
 a future filled with promise, is a familiar story. His 
 hopefulness gave him his strong hold upon young men. 
 To them, always looking before and not behind, he 
 stood beckoning, and the fire caught from him spread 
 through them and out from them. Neither they, nor 
 any others, may have known all the hope that was in 
 him ; indeed, he may not have known it all himself. It 
 often seemed as if he were hoping for brighter days 
 and holier lives than are consistent with human imper- 
 fections." 
 
 Dr. Eliot, after speaking of Phillips Brooks's affection, 
 playfulness of conversation witli his friends, his humor, 
 which rendered his companionship charming, his delight 
 in children, his unconsciousness of all his distinctions 
 and successes, the unchangeable simplicity of his habits, 
 his manners, his opinions, says, " These are pleasant 
 recollections to all who loved him. . . . They linger 
 like the soft glow of a summer twilight, now that his 
 day on earth is over. . . . 
 
 " This great man was never greater than he was in 
 the sight of those who knew him best. ' I shall not
 
 PHILLIPS nnooKs. 371 
 
 change,' he said to a brother clergyman who seems to 
 have been doubtful whether he would be the same 
 after being a bishop, ' I shall not change, and you 
 will always find me just as you have found me 
 heretofore.' " 
 
 The Rev. Arthur Brooks, D.D., in a memorial sermon 
 preached in the Church of the Incarnation, New York 
 City, says that on the afternoon of the day of the conse- 
 cration of his brother as a bishop, fearing that some of 
 his friends might not come to see him as often as here- 
 tofore, he said earnestly, " Don't desert me." 
 
 Phillips Brooks was born Dec. 13, 18,'>5, on High 
 Street, Boston, the second in a family of six sons. His 
 mother, Mary Ann Phillips, the granddaughter of Judge 
 Phillips, the founder of Phillips Academy, Andover, was 
 a woman of fine intellect and unusually earnest piety. 
 His father, William Gray Brooks, a hardware merchant, 
 whose ancestors, like the Phillipses, held high social 
 position, and power in the State as well, was a man of 
 refinement and scholarly tastes. 
 
 The son Phillips, says the Rev. Julius H. Ward in the 
 New EntjJand Mftr/aziHV for January, 1892, "seems to 
 have inherited from his mother the deep and earnest 
 piety and intellectual strength which have always been 
 his characteristics, and from his father the robust phys- 
 ical constitution, the strong and resolute spirit, which lie 
 has shown in using them." 
 
 "Parents whose praise,'' says Dr. Arthur Brooks, '-be- 
 cause of this great son, is in the churches to-day, earned 
 it by self-denial and the subordination of all interests 
 and ambitions to the training and education of a family 
 of boys. . . . That love to Christ which glowed in his 
 words and Hashed in his eye, was caught from a mother's
 
 372 PHILLIPS UROOKS. 
 
 lips, and was read with boyish eyes as the central power 
 of a mother's soul and life." 
 
 Mother-love was always a strong force in the heart of 
 Phillips Brooks. It is related that when some one asked 
 him if he was not afraid when he first preached before 
 Queen Victoria, he replied, " Oh no ; I have preached 
 before my mother." 
 
 He said in one of his sermons, "The purest mingling 
 of all elements into one character and nature which we 
 ever see, is in the Christian mother, in whom the knowl- 
 edge of all that she knows, and the love which she feels 
 for her child, make not two natures, as they often do in 
 men, in fathers, but perfectly and absolutely one." 
 
 He often spoke of " that self-sacrifice which is the 
 very essence of her motherhood." 
 
 At eight years of age, Phillips and his brother William 
 Gray, a year and a half older, were at the Adams School 
 in Mason Street, and entered the Latin School, then on 
 Bedford Street, in 184G, when Phillips was eleven years 
 old. Here he was a quiet, good scholar, excelling in the 
 languages, and all unconscious of his great future. 
 His teacher, Francis Gardner, was a sad, earnest man, 
 whom Phillips Brooks described nearly forty years later, 
 when he spoke, April 23, 1885, at the two hundred and 
 fiftieth anniversary of the Latin School, the oldest school 
 in America. 
 
 " Tall, gaunt, muscular . . . impressing every boy with 
 the strong sense of vigor, now lovely and now hateful, 
 but never for a moment tame or dull or false ; indignant, 
 passionate, an athlete both in body and mind. . . . He 
 was not always easy for the boys to get along with. 
 Probably it was not always easy for him to get along 
 with himself. But it has left a strength of truth and
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 373 
 
 honor and devoted manliness which will always be a 
 treasure in the school he loved." 
 
 In this school young Brooks learned his fondness for 
 and advocacy of the public school system. He said in 
 his anniversary address, "The German statesman, if you 
 talk with him, will tell you that, with every evil of his 
 great military system, which makes every citizen a 
 soldier for some portion of his life, it yet has one 
 redeeming good. It brings each young man of the land 
 once in his life directly into the country's service ; lets 
 him directly feel its touch of dignity and power ; makes 
 him proud of it as his personal commander, and so 
 insures a more definite and vivid loyalty through all his 
 life. 
 
 " More graciously, more healthily, more Christianly, 
 the American public school does what the barracks and 
 the drill-room try to do. Would that its blessing might 
 be made absolutely universal ! Would that it might be 
 so arranged that once in the life of every Boston boy, if 
 only for three months, he might be a pupil of a public 
 school; might see his city sitting in the teacher's chair; 
 might find himself, along with boys of all degrees and 
 classes, simply recognized by his community as one of 
 her children ! It would put an element into his charac- 
 ter and life which he would never lose. It would insure 
 the unity and public spirit of our citizens." 
 
 These words of Phillips Brooks. Mr. Edwin F>. Mead 
 thinks, should '' be printed in letters of gold, and hung 
 up in every home where parents arc thinking of sending 
 their children into private schools, thereby condemning 
 them to a narrower and less sturdy education than that 
 given by the State, while also thus withdrawing their 
 own personal interest from the public schools, which
 
 374 PHILLIPS UROOK8. 
 
 need the personal interest and love of every earnest 
 citizen to-day as they have never needed them before." 
 
 From the Boston Latin School young Brooks went to 
 Harvard College when he was about fifteen and a half 
 years old. " The college attracted him with its prom- 
 ises," writes the Kev. Dr. Alexander McKeuzie, in the 
 May, 1893, New England Magazine. " Even the Trien- 
 nial Catalogue was stimulating as he read there of 
 twenty-five men named Phillips and twenty named 
 Brooks, who had graduated from this university. The 
 place for his own name which should join the two lines 
 was inviting." 
 
 And yet Phillips Brooks in no way distinguished him- 
 self in college, save, perhaps, in composition. His pro- 
 fessors were such men as Agassiz, Longfellow, Asa Gray, 
 Lowell, and others. During his junior year he roomed in 
 Massachusetts Hall, and his senior year in Stoughton. 
 
 One of Brooks's class writes, " He was a general favor- 
 ite, always hearty and kindly, with an abounding sense 
 of humor, which he carried with him through life. . . . 
 No one could have surmised what profession he would 
 choose, and almost any calling would have seemed ap- 
 propriate." 
 
 Mr. Robert Treat Paine, his classmate, says, " At col- 
 lege he cared little for sport, but preferred to read omniv- 
 erously almost everything and anything that came in his 
 way." Tennyson was an especial favorite. 
 
 After graduation Brooks returned to the Boston Latin 
 School, and became a tutor. Here he failed. He could 
 not or would not be a strict disciplinarian, and he left 
 the position. 
 
 Francis Gardner, his former teacher, had said that he 
 " never knew a man who had failed as a schoolmaster to
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 375 
 
 succeed in any other occupation." In one case at least 
 lie was mistaken. The young man might and did fail as 
 a schoolteacher ; he was a great success as a preacher 
 and a num. 
 
 He went back to his college president, James Walker, 
 to advise about his future work in life, and decided to 
 enter the ministry. 
 
 At the suggestion of his pastor, Dr. Alexander H. 
 Yinton, of St. Paul's Church on Tremont Street, he went 
 to a theological seminary at Alexandria, Va., in 1850. 
 Here his piety seemed to deepen, as he gave himself 
 to study and to mission work. 
 
 He preached his first sermon in a little hamlet called 
 Sharon, two or three miles from the seminary, urged to 
 go thither by a classmate. The people were mostly poor 
 whites and negroes, Avho, being plain themselves, enjoyed 
 the plain preaching. The schoolhouse was soon crowded, 
 and more came than could be accommodated. 
 
 His classmate told, at his home in Philadelphia, of 
 this good work. The Church of the Advent in that city 
 needed a rector. A committee came to hear Brooks, 
 of course without his knowledge, were delighted, and 
 called him to their poor parish. 
 
 Fearful that he would not give satisfaction, young 
 Brooks, now twenty-four years of age-, consented to 
 preach for three months, and at the end of that time 
 accepted the call for a year, at a salary of one thousand 
 dollars. 
 
 "The dissatisfaction with his work,'' says ])r. Arthur 
 Brooks, "and the eagerness to press on to something 
 better and more complete, while all the time men were 
 praising what he had done, was always a recognized 
 feature of his power."
 
 376 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 Fortunately for young Brooks, Dr. Vinton had moved 
 to Philadelphia, and had become rector of the Church of 
 the Holy Trinity, in a wealthy part of the city. 
 
 Not forgetting his former parishioner, he invited the 
 young preacher to occupy his pulpit Sunday afternoons. 
 Both here and at the Advent, Phillips Brooks soon won 
 a place in the hearts and lives of his hearers. 
 
 Dr. Vinton was called to St. Mark's Church, in New 
 York, and Phillips Brooks was asked to take his place 
 at the Holy Trinity. He did not accept till invited the 
 third time, and finally became rector Jan. 1, 18G2, when 
 he was twenty-seven. 
 
 During Phillips Brooks's ten years in Philadelphia, 
 he took a fearless stand for the colored people, and in 
 all that related to the Civil War. 
 
 When the three months' men were called out to defend 
 Philadelphia from a feared attack of the Confederates, 
 young Brooks, with a shovel on his shoulder, was in the 
 van to help throw up earthworks. 
 
 In his Thanksgiving sermon, Nov. 2C>, 18G3, he thanked 
 God " that the institution of African slavery in our be- 
 loved land is one big year nearer to its inevitable death 
 than it was last Thanksgiving Day." 
 
 When Abraham Lincoln lay dead at Independence 
 Hall, in the journey from Washington to Springfield, 
 111., Phillips Brooks preached a noble sermon, April 23, 
 18G5. Many have recalled these words, which might be 
 Avritten of himself, now that he has gone from us. 
 
 "In him," said Phillips Brooks, "was vindicated the 
 greatness of real goodness and the goodness of real 
 greatness. . . . How many ears will never lose the 
 thrill of some kind word he spoke he who could speak 
 so kindly to promise a kindness that always matched
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 377 
 
 his word. How often he surprised the land with a clem- 
 ency which made even those who questioned his policy 
 love him the more for what they called his weakness ; 
 seeing the man in whom God had most embodied the 
 discipline of freedom not only could not be a slave, but 
 could not be a tyrant. . . . 
 
 " The gentlest, kindest, most indulgent man that ever 
 ruled a state ! . . . The shepherd of the people ! . . . 
 What ruler ever wore it like this dead President of 
 ours ? He fed us faithfully and truly. He fed us with 
 counsel when we were in doubt, with inspiration when 
 we sometimes faltered, with caution when we Avould be 
 rash, with calm, clear, trustful cheerfulness through 
 many an hour when our hearts were dark. He spread 
 before the whole land feasts of great duty and devotion 
 and patriotism, on which the land grew strong. He fed 
 us with solemn, solid truths. . . . 
 
 " Pie showed us how to love truth, and yet be charita- 
 ble how to hate wrong and all oppression, and yet not 
 treasure one personal injury or insult. He fed all his 
 people, from the highest to the lowest, from the most 
 privileged to the most enslaved. Best of all, he fed us 
 with a reverent and genuine religion." 
 
 \Vhen Harvard celebrated the close of the war, and 
 Lowell gave his immortal "Commemoration Ode," Phillips 
 Brooks offered the prayer, as only one with his great 
 heart and eloquent lips could pray. Nobody ever forgot 
 that prayer. Harvard from that day forward knew and 
 honored her son. 
 
 A few years later, May 30, 1873, Phillips Brooks 
 spoke at the dedication of Memorial Hall in Andover. 
 He said, " They saw that their country was like a pre- 
 cious vase of rarest porcelain, priceless while it was
 
 378 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 whole, valueless if it was broken into fragments. What 
 they died to keep whole may we in our several places 
 live to keep holy ! " 
 
 In 18GU Phillips Brooks was called to Trinity Church, 
 Boston. He loved his native city, " the home of new 
 ideas," as he called it, and accepted. At that time the 
 church edifice of Quincy granite was on Summer Street. 
 It was burned in the great fire of 1872, whereupon the 
 wealthy congregation, idolizing their pastor, built on the 
 Back Bay, at Copley Square, the present Trinity Church 
 edifice, costing about one million dollars, one of the 
 handsomest and most complete church buildings on this 
 continent. It was designed by the famous architect, 
 Mr. H. II. Richardson. It is in the form of a Latin 
 Cross. 
 
 " The style of the church," says Mr. Richardson, 
 " may be characterized as a free rendering of the French 
 Romanesque, inclining particularly to the school that 
 flourished in the eleventh century in Central France, 
 the ancient Aquitaine." 
 
 Four thousand five hundred piles were driven to sup- 
 port the building, the tower of which, resting on four 
 piers, weighs nearly nineteen million pounds. Mr. John 
 La Farge decorated the building with great skill and 
 beauty. Dr. Vinton, the venerable pastor of Phillips 
 Brooks's boyhood, preached the consecration sermon in 
 the new church, Feb. 1), 1877. 
 
 Phillips Brooks did not wish that this grand church 
 should be for the people of Trinity only. The galleries 
 were made free, and the rented pews could be occupied by 
 strangers after a stated hour. He said, " Such a church 
 as this has no right to exist, or to think that it exists, for 
 any limited company who own its pews. It would not be
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 379 
 
 a Christian parish if it harbored such a thought. No, 
 let the world come in. Let all men hear, if they will, 
 the truths we love. Let no soul go unsaved through 
 any selfishness of ours." 
 
 This year Mr. Brooks was made a Doctor of Divinity 
 by Harvard University. lie had already been one of 
 her overseers for several years. In 1881 the beloved 
 Dr. Andrew P. Peabody resigned his office as preacher 
 at Harvard, and the President and Fellows naturally 
 turned to Phillips Brooks as the one of all others who 
 could win and hold the students to a higher spiritual 
 life. He was chosen preacher to the university, and 
 Plunimer Professor of Christian Morals. 
 
 Dr. Brooks loved his Alma Mater, and hated to refuse, 
 but Trinity Church and Boston could not spare him. 
 When he gave his answer, President Eliot says, "He 
 was very pale and grave, and he spoke like a man who 
 had seen a beatific vision which he could not pursue." 
 
 More and more, however, Phillips Brooks became a 
 part of the higher life of Harvard. The religious work 
 at the college is divided among six preachers. In each 
 half-year, for two or three weeks, a minister conducts 
 morning prayers, preaches Sunday evenings, and each 
 forenoon is at Wadsworth House, to talk with any 
 students who may choose to come. 
 
 These were precious seasons to Phillips Brooks; for he 
 loved young men, and they loved him. The Kev. .Julius 
 Ward tells of a letter written by Dr. 15 rooks to the 
 father of a freshman, in which the warm heart of the 
 preacher exclaims, " What dear, beautiful creatures these 
 boys are ! " 
 
 For twenty-two years Phillips Brooks did his grand 
 work in Trinity Church, and, indeed, in the whole city
 
 380 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 and the whole land. He said, "No man has come to 
 true greatness who has not felt in some degree that his 
 life belongs to his race, and that what God gives him 
 He gives him for mankind." 
 
 When the Rev. Dr. George A. Gordon of Boston re- 
 marked to Dr. Brooks, after hearing his twentieth anni- 
 versary sermon, that he had also heard him preach his 
 ninth, he replied, " Twenty years is a long time in a man's 
 life, and I cannot expect more than another twenty ; " 
 and then with a serious but eager look, added, "And then 
 I hope something better will come." 
 
 He preached to overflowing congregations at Trinity, 
 at the Young Men's Christian Union, the Moody Taber- 
 nacle, Appleton Chapel at Harvard, and elsewhere. He 
 did not seem to realize that rnen crowded the house to 
 hear him. To a brother minister in a Boston suburb, 
 where he frequently preached, and where every inch of 
 standing-room was utilized when he came, he remarked, 
 " Grey, what a splendid congregation you have ! " 
 
 He was extremely modest. When invited to furnish 
 some data for his college class record, he wrote, " I 
 have had no wife, no children, no particular honors, 
 no serious misfortune, and no adventures worth speaking 
 of. It is shameful at such times as these not to have a 
 history, but I have not got one, and must come 
 without." 
 
 Phillips Brooks was as great in pastoral work as in 
 preaching. He said in his " Lectures on Preaching," 
 delivered at the Yale Divinity School, in January and 
 February, 1877, " The preacher needs to be pastor, that 
 he may preach to real men. The pastor must be 
 preacher, that he may keep the dignity of his work 
 alive. The preacher who is not a pastor grows remote.
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 381 
 
 The pastor who is not a preacher grows petty. ... Be 
 both ; for you cannot really be one unless you also are 
 the other." 
 
 He visited his people, both poor and rich. Two young 
 men had attended Trinity Church for a time, and then 
 ceased going. They roomed at the top of a high build- 
 ing in a plain quarter of the city. One day, answering 
 a rap at their door, they beheld the majestic figure of 
 Phillips Brooks. " Well, boys," he said, grasping them 
 cordially by the hand, " you did not expect to see me 
 here, did you ? " 
 
 Indeed, they did not, for they supposed that the rector 
 did not know them even by sight. They went regularly 
 to Trinity after that friendly visit. 
 
 A physician tells this story, which has appeared in the 
 press. He said to a poor woman whom he had visited, 
 "You don't need any more medicine. What you need 
 now is nourishment and fresh air. You need to get out." 
 
 " But I have nobody to leave with the children," was 
 the reply. 
 
 " Well, you must manage to get out somehow," was the 
 response. 
 
 The doctor dropped in a day or two later to see how 
 the poor woman had " managed." She had told her 
 troubles to the man who bore many burdens cheerfully, 
 Phillips Brooks ; and he was there caring for the children 
 while the poor mother took the air. 
 
 Dr. Brooks loved mission work. Like Charles Kings- 
 ley, he was always very close in heart with the poor and 
 the laborers. He said, " It is not wealth simply in itself, 
 it is the pride of wealth, the indifference of wealth, 
 the cruelty of wealth, the vulgarity of wealth, in one 
 great word, the selfishness of wealth, which really makes
 
 382 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 the poor man's heart ache and the poor man's blood boil, 
 and constitutes the danger of a community where pool- 
 men and rich men live side by side." He was especially 
 interested in St. Andrew's Church on Chambers Street, 
 which was under the care of Trinity. Here one of the 
 first, if not the first, girls' clubs in the country was or- 
 ganized, to which Dr. Brooks delighted to speak of his 
 travels abroad. The Vincent Hospital, the Guild Hall 
 of St. Andrew's, hung with pictures, gifts from him, the 
 Kindergarten for the Blind, all were dear to his heart. 
 
 Phillips Brooks was a generous man, with both money 
 and time. He helped many a boy through college. On 
 one occasion he received a check for one hundred dollars 
 from a parish where he had preached, and immediately 
 sent it to a poor clergyman. To a chapel in a suburban 
 town he gave five hundred dollars towards paying its 
 debt. 
 
 He did not like to have his photograph taken and sold ; 
 but when informed by those who were holding a fair for 
 St. Andrew's Mission that they would probably make 
 fifty dollars through such sale, he immediately sent a 
 check for that amount, 
 
 He was finally prevailed upon to sit for his pictiire in 
 1887. In the following eight months more than three 
 thoiisand photographs were sold. Four years later an 
 arrangement was made whereby a royalty was paid on 
 each picture, and the proceeds used in mission work. 
 
 A lady desired some instruments for a medical mis- 
 sionary about to start for Japan. She applied to Phillips 
 Brooks, with the thought that some of his wealthy pa- 
 rishioners might provide them. " A good set will cost 
 one hundred dollars," she said ; "but an inferior one can 
 be bought for fifty dollars."
 
 PHILLIPS r> ROOKS. 883 
 
 " Would you send your son to the war with an old- 
 fashioned musket/' he said, "instead of a rifle? The 
 man who goes to fight Satan in his strongholds must 
 have the best appliances that can be obtained." And 
 Dr. Brooks paid the money from his own pocket. 
 
 A printer, the husband of a woman attending Dr. 
 Brooks's church, became ill, and the men in the office 
 raised money to send their fellow-workman to California. 
 The preacher heard of it, and called at the building. The 
 cashier spoke through the tube to the foreman in the 
 composing-room, saying that a gentleman wished to see 
 him. " Send him up," was the reply. And' up four flights 
 walked Phillips Brooks, and quietly slipped twenty dol- 
 lars into the foreman's hands, though refusing to allow 
 his name to lie put on the "subscription paper. 
 
 He gave his time generously. When his private secre- 
 tary, the Rev. William Henry Brooks, 1)1)., said to him 
 that in using so much time for others he had none left 
 for himself, he replied, "I have plenty of time.'' Being 
 asked "Where ?" he answered, " In the railroad cars.*' 
 
 Soon after Phillips Brooks became bishop he was 
 urged to have office hours, but refused I Fe said, writes 
 his secretary, in a sketch of the great leader, " A clergy- 
 man may come from a distance to see me, and be com- 
 pelled to return very soon. Not knowing my office hours 
 (should there be such), he might fail of the accomplish- 
 ment of his errand, and so have his journey to no pur- 
 pose. Or a layman, leaving his business to consult with 
 me, not knowing of the observance of office hours, might 
 find his time wasted, and be disappointed of the desired 
 interview. No, T am not willing to have ofHce hours. If 
 people wish to see me I ought to and will see them." 
 
 When some one expressed fear that these numberless
 
 384 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 calls would wear him out, he said, " God save the day 
 when they won't come to me." 
 
 When I had occasion myself two or three times to con- 
 sult him, he never seemed in a hurry, never cold or indif- 
 ferent, never ostentatious, only small souls are that, 
 and never exclusive. He had so mastered himself as not 
 to be annoyed; and such mastery over self gives mastery 
 over others. 
 
 He answered letters by the thousands ; indeed, none 
 ever went unanswered. He was like Longfellow in this 
 respect, a true gentleman. 
 
 He received letters from all countries, and upon all sub- 
 jects. A lady wrote from the South, wishing a position 
 in the house of one of the diocesan institutions, with her 
 .two children, and if that were not possible, asked that 
 he would recommend a boarding-place. Phillips Brooks 
 was abroad, but sent the letter to his secretary, asking 
 that he send her the desired information. " Be sure," 
 wrote Dr. Brooks, " and tell her that the answer was not 
 delayed any longer than was absolutely necessary. Ex- 
 plain to her that I am in Europe." 
 
 A widow in Minnesota, whose husband, a Massachu- 
 setts man, had been killed in the war, could not prove 
 that he was her husband, as she had lost her marriage 
 certificate, and therefore could not obtain a pension. 
 She knew the name of the minister who married her, but 
 he was dead. Phillips Brooks took time to find evidence 
 of her marriage, and she received her pension. 
 
 A letter came from New York City, asking that a list 
 of all the papers and periodicals published by the several 
 parishes in Dr. Brooks's diocese be sent. It was a work of 
 many hours, but it was done. 
 
 The Girls' Friendly Magazine tells this incident.
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 385 
 
 Phillips Brooks said to a friend in Ids study, "Who is 
 this man who writes this letter ? You ought to be able 
 to tell me, for he comes from your town. He wants to 
 know if I think it is right to play chess." 
 
 " That man," said the friend, " is a poor old crank. 
 There is nothing for you to do but to throw his letter in 
 the waste-basket." 
 
 " That I will not do," was the answer of Phillips 
 Brooks. " He has written me a courteous letter, and I 
 am going to return him a courteous answer, like a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 Phillips Brooks was extremely fond of children, as 
 one may see from his letters to his nieces, published in 
 the August, 1893, Century Mayazine, or from the beauti- 
 ful picture in " The Child and the Bishop," where, in 
 1890, Dr. Brooks holds, as he says, '< Beautiful Blessing' 
 iu my happy arms." 
 
 In 1882-83 he spent over a year in Europe, sailing in 
 the Servia about the middle of June, 1882, with his 
 friend, the Rev. Dr. McVickar of Philadelphia, with 
 other friends. Dr. Brooks visited England, France, 
 Italy, India, and Spain. 
 
 From Venice he writes to his niece Gertie, the daughter 
 of William (Jray Brooks, in a Boston bank, " Do go 
 into my house, when you get there, and see if the doll 
 and her baby are well and happy, but do not carry them 
 off ; and make the music-box play a tune, and remember 
 your affectionate uncle, PHILLIPS." 
 
 The people of Trinity Church had built for their pastor 
 a beautiful home on Clarendon Street. In one of the 
 closets were kept dolls for his nieces. This home was 
 the scene of many merry-makings for the children of his 
 brothers, and for other children.
 
 886 PHILLIPS li ROOKS. 
 
 From Jeypoor he writes to Gertie about the monkeys 
 of India, and the nose-jewels of the women, and tells her 
 he has got a nose-jewel for her. He rides on a great 
 elephant, " almost as big as Jumbo." 
 
 To Josephine, the little daughter of the Rev. John 
 Cotton Brooks, his brother, in Springfield^ Mass., he sends 
 an amusing poem of his own composition. From England 
 he writes that he wished the strawberries grew on trees, 
 as it was difficult for him to pick them, as one might 
 imagine from his great size, six feet four inches tall, 
 and large frame in proportion. 
 
 At Badastein he takes a bath for Gertie, who has 
 rheumatism, back in America ; and from Cliamouni, lie 
 writes her that she must get well and strong, " to play 
 with me." 
 
 He writes to his brother William interesting accounts 
 of India. Bombay, with its great hospital for sick and 
 wounded animals, where " they cure them -if they can, 
 or keep them till they die," is very curious. It is to be 
 hoped that we, with our boasted civilization, will some 
 time be as kind to animals as they are in India. 
 
 He preaches at Delhi. He is extremely interested in 
 Benares, with its five thousand Hindoo temples, the 
 " very Back Bay of Asia." He sees thousands of 
 pilgrims bathing in the sacred Ganges to wash their sins 
 away, or burn their dead upon its banks. 
 
 Phillips Brooks preached during his absence at St. 
 Botolph's Church, Boston, Lincolnshire, England ; at the 
 Chapel Royal, Savoy, London ; at St. Paul's Cathedral, 
 the Temple Church, St. Margaret's, at Westminster 
 Abbey, at Lincoln Cathedral, Oxford and Cambridge 
 Universities, and elsewhere, always to the great delight 
 of his hearers. He met such men as Browning and
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 387 
 
 Tennyson. He was the warm friend of the lamented 
 Dean Stanley. 
 
 Of Browning lie writes, in " Letters of Travel," "He 
 was one of the men whom I wanted most to see here ; a 
 pleasant gentleman, full of talk about London and 
 London people, with not a bit of the poet about him 
 externally." 
 
 Again he writes, " I dined with Mr. Forster and Mr. 
 Bright, and had our great English friend pretty mueh to 
 myself for t\vo hours. He is a great talker, especially 
 when he gets onto America ; and he knows what he is 
 talking about. Both he and Forster are friends worth 
 having. Bright, personally, wins you in a minute by his 
 frankness and cordialness and manliness of his greeting.'' 
 
 He attended one of Mrs. Gladstone's receptions ; met 
 Mr. Gladstone at dinner at Mr. Bryce's ; breakfasted 
 with Matthew Arnold, "and liked him very much;" met 
 Jean Ingelow, Mrs. Ivitchie (Thackeray's daughter), 
 Hughes, and many others. 
 
 Dr. Brooks returned to -Boston Sept. 22, and the 
 people received him with open arms. 
 
 Dr. Brooks was a Broad Churchman, and broad in every 
 sense of the word. His secretary tells of a conversation 
 he had with the rector, when, after differing in opinion, 
 lie said to Phillips Brooks, " I am very sorry that 1 have 
 said what I have just said." 
 
 " Why ? '' was asked. 
 
 "Because it is not pleasant to me to differ with yon in 
 opinions," was the reply of the secretary. Dr. Brooks 
 answered with much earnestness. This is a free coun- 
 try, and every man has the right to express his own 
 opinions." 
 
 Phillips Brooks was one of the most tolerant of men.
 
 388 PHILLIPS XROOKS. 
 
 In two lectures on "Tolerance," delivered before the 
 students of several divinity schools of the Episcopal 
 Church, he said, " Tolerance is the willing consent that 
 other men should hold and express opinions with which 
 we disagree, until they are convinced by reason that 
 those opinions are untrue. 
 
 "I know some ministers," he said, "who want all 
 their parishioners to think after their fashion, and are 
 troubled when any of their people show signs of think- 
 ing for themselves, and holding ideas which the minister 
 does not hold. Thank God, the human nature is too 
 vital, especially when it is inspired Avith such a vital 
 force as Christian faith, to yield itself to such unworthy 
 slavery. . . . 
 
 " Bidden to believe that souls would be punished for 
 wrong-thinking, people have come to doubt whether souls 
 would be punished for anything at all. The only possi- 
 bility of any light upon the darkness, any order in the 
 confusion, must lie in the clear and unqualified assertion 
 that such as God is can punish such as men are for 
 nothing except wickedness, and that honestly mistaken 
 opinions are not wicked. . . . 
 
 " The only ground for us to take is simply the broad 
 ground that error is not punishable at all. Error is not 
 guilt. The guilt of error is the fallacy and fiction which 
 has haunted good men's minds." 
 
 Again he said, " Insincerity (whether it profess to 
 hold what we think is false or .what we think is true), 
 cant, selfishness, deception of one's self or of other 
 people, cruelty, prejudice, these are the things with 
 which the Church ought to be a great deal more angry 
 than she is. The anger which she is ready to expend 
 upon the misbeliever ought to be poured out on these."
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS, 389 
 
 " The noblest utterance of hopeful tolerance in all 
 that noble century," said Dr. Brooks of the Pilgrims, 
 " was in the famous speech in which John Robinson, 
 their minister, bade loving farewell to his departing 
 flock at Leydeii, in which occur those memorable words, 
 1 1 am verily persuaded, 1 am very conlident, that 
 the Lord has more truth to break out of His holy 
 word.' " 
 
 " At the consecration of Trinity Church," says the 
 Rev. Julius H. Ward, "he invited prominent Unitarian 
 clergymen, and at least one layman, to receive the com- 
 munion." And yet Phillips Brooks's one gospel message, 
 in which he believed and spoke, was the power of Christ 
 unto salvation. 
 
 " Of the Episcopal Church," he said, " there are some 
 of her children who love to call her in exclusive phrase 
 The American Church. She is not that; and to call her 
 that would be to give her a name to which she has no 
 right. The American Church is the great total body of 
 Christianity in America, in many divisions, under many 
 names ... as a whole bearing perpetual testimony to 
 the people of America of the authority and love of Clod, 
 of the redemption of Christ, and of the sacred possibili- 
 ties of man. . . . 
 
 " The church which to-day effectively denounces in- 
 temperance and the licentiousness of social life, the 
 cruelty or indifference of the rich to the poor, and the 
 prostitution of public office, will become the real church 
 of America. Our church has done some good service 
 here. She ought to do more. . . . She ought to blow her 
 trumpet in the ears of the young men of fortune, sum- 
 moning them from their clubs and their frivolities to do 
 the chivalrous work which their nobility obliges them
 
 390 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 to do for their fellow-men. She ought to speak to Cul- 
 ture, and teach it its responsibility." 
 
 Five volumes of Dr. Brooks's sermons have been pub- 
 lished and read widely : one in 1878 ; another in 1881, 
 "The Candle of the Lord and Other Sermons,'' the first 
 sermon was preached in London, and attracted wide at- 
 tention ; in 1883, " Sermons in the English Churches ; " 
 in 1886, " Twenty Sermons/' dedicated to the memory 
 of Frederick Brooks, his brother ; and in 1890, " The 
 Light of the World and Other Sermons," dedicated to 
 the memory of his " brother, George Brooks, who died 
 in the great war." 
 
 The Ilev. Frederick Brooks, Avho was the talented 
 young pastor of St. Paul's Church in Cleveland, Ohio, was 
 drowned by falling one dark evening through the Charles- 
 town draw of the Boston and Lowell Railroad bridge. 
 The last inspiring talk which he made was at one of 
 the Temperance Friendly Inns in Cleveland, where he 
 encouraged us with his words of sympathy and interest. 
 
 Phillips Brooks wrote two other books, " Lectures on 
 Preaching," and the "Bohlen Lectures," on "The In- 
 fluence of Jesus." Besides these he has written several 
 Christinas carols of extreme beauty, and some pam- 
 phlets. All his books have gone through many editions, 
 and, like Spurgeon's, have been read by thousands. 
 
 In an address on " Biography," delivered at Phillips 
 Exeter Academy, he said that he would rather have 
 written a great biography than any other great book. 
 
 The " Lectures on Preaching " abound, like all his 
 work, in short, concise sentences full of meaning, and 
 should be read especially by every one who intends to 
 preach. 
 
 He tells young men that the talk about prevalent
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 391 
 
 aversion to hearing the gospel is foolish. " The age," 
 he says, " has no aversion to preaching as such. It may 
 not listen to your preaching. If that prove to be the 
 case, look for the fault first in your preaching, and not 
 in the age. I wonder at the eagerness and patience of 
 congregations. . . . Never fear, as you preach, to bring 
 the sublimest motive to the smallest duty, and the most 
 infinite comfort to the smallest trouble." 
 
 The necessary qualities in a preacher, Phillips Brooks 
 thinks, are, "Personal piety, nothing but fire kindles 
 fire," hopefulness; such physical condition as comes 
 from a due regard to health ; enthusiasm ; " the quality 
 that kindles at the sight of men, that feels a keen joy at 
 the meeting of truth and the human mind." 
 
 First among the elements of power, Phillips Brooks 
 puts " personal uprightness and purity." No man per- 
 manently succeeds in the ministry who cannot make men 
 believe that he is pure and devoted ; and the only sure 
 and lasting way to make men believe in one's devotion 
 and purity is to be what one wishes to be believed to 
 be." He said. " No man can do much for others who is 
 not much himself. . . . The priest must be the most 
 manly of all men." 
 
 The second element of power is " freedom from self- 
 consciousness." "No man ever yet thought whether he 
 was preaching well without weakening his sermon." 
 
 The third element " is genuine respect for the people 
 whom he preaches to." " There is no good preaching in 
 the supercilious preacher." 
 
 The fourth is "gravity." Dr. I> rooks thinks the 
 "merely solemn ministers are very empty . . . cheats 
 and shams;" but thinks the "clerical jester" merits 
 " the contempt of Christian people." " He is full of
 
 392 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 Bible jokes. . . . There are passages in the Bible 
 which are soiled forever by the touches which the hands 
 of ministers who delight in cheap and easy jokes have 
 left upon them. . . . Refrain from all joking about 
 congregations, flocks, parish visits, sermons, the mishaps 
 of the pulpit, or the makeshifts of the study. Such jok- 
 ing is always bad, and almost always stupid; but it is 
 very common, and it takes the bloom off a young minis- 
 ter's life." Dr. Brooks was especially careful in remarks 
 about any person. 
 
 The fifth element of power is "courage." " If you are 
 afraid of men, and a slave to their opinion, go and do 
 something else. Go and make shoes to fit them." 
 
 Phillips Brooks then turns to the dangers which beset 
 young preachers. The first is self-conceit. "He who 
 lives with God must be humble," he has said in his ser- 
 mon, " How to Abound." Another danger is nar- 
 rowness. Still another is self-indulgence. "We are 
 apt to become men of moods, thinking we cannot work 
 unless we feel like it. ... The first business of the 
 preacher is to conquer the tyranny of his moods, and to 
 be always ready for his work. It can be done. . . . 
 Kesent indulgences which are not given to men of other 
 professions. Learn to enjoy and be sober ; learn to suf- 
 fer and be strong. Never appeal for sympathy." 
 
 Again he said, "The clergy are largely what the laity 
 make them. ... It was not good that the minister 
 should be worshipped and made an oracle. It is still 
 worse that he should be nattered and made a pet. And 
 there is such a tendency in these days among our Aveaker 
 people. ... It is possible for such a man, if he has 
 popular gifts, to be petted all through his ministry, never 
 once to come into strong contact with other men, or to
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 393 
 
 receive one good hard knock of the sort that brings out 
 manliness and character." 
 
 Dr. Brooks liked to have ministers share their knoAvl- 
 edge ; giving such lectures as Norman Macleod's on geol- 
 ogy to the weavers at Newmilns. " Would that more of 
 us were able to follow his example." This was what 
 Charles Kingsley loved to do. 
 
 Of political preaching, Dr. Brooks said to the students, 
 " I despise, and call upon you to despise, all the weak as- 
 sertions that a minister must not preach politics because 
 he will injure his influence if he does, or because it is 
 unworthy of his sacred office. 
 
 "When some clear question of right and wrong pre- 
 sents itself, and men with some strong passion or sordid 
 interest are going wrong, then your sermon is a poor, 
 untimely thing if it deals only with the abstractions of 
 eternity, and has no word to help the men who are diz- 
 zied with the whirl and blinded with the darkness of 
 to-day." 
 
 He constantly urged men of all classes to do their best. 
 " The primary fact of duty lies at the core of every tiling," 
 he said. 
 
 He preached his own sermons with the single motive 
 "of moving men's souls." He wrote rapidly, and spoke 
 rapidly, over two hundred words a minute. Two stenog- 
 raphers were always necessary to record his sermons or 
 addresses. His Lenten noonday sermons at Trinity 
 Church, New York, or at St. Vaul's Church. Boston, were 
 crowded with the busiest business men of both cities. 
 He could preach with or without notes. He could write 
 a sermon in six hours, at two sittings of three hours each ; 
 but he had been studying and thinking all his life 
 for it.
 
 394 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 In 1886 Dr. Brooks was elected assistant-bishop of 
 Pennsylvania, but declined. 
 
 In 1889 the freshmen of Wellesley College made him 
 an honorary member of their class. He accepted the 
 position, as had Dr. Holmes and others with former 
 classes. He enjoyed meeting with the young women, 
 for he always treated men and women alike, with no 
 increased suavity for the latter. About a week before 
 his death, says an article in the Feb. 15, 1894, Golden 
 Rule, he went to Wellesley College to address the stu- 
 dents, and afterwards received them in the large parlors. 
 "I met my class here one Sunday afternoon," he said, 
 "and they asked me questions, ten to the minute. It 
 was very interesting. They did not differentiate at all 
 between the questions that may be answered and the 
 questions that may not." 
 
 In 1891 Phillips Brooks was chosen Bishop of Massa- 
 chusetts, after a heated contest between the High and 
 Broad Churchmen. Dr. Brooks wisely kept silent dur- 
 ing the whole controversy. 
 
 He possessed, what he said impressed him most about 
 Mr. Moody, " astonishing good sense." 
 
 He was consecrated with most impressive services, 
 Oct. 14, 1891, in Trinity Church; Bishop Potter of New 
 York preaching the consecration sermon. 
 
 It is said that the regular salary of the former Massa- 
 chusetts bishop was six thousand dollars. As Phillips 
 Brooks received eight thousand from Trinity, it was 
 suggested that he be given eight as bishop, but this he 
 would not permit. 
 
 Bishop Brooks took up his work with his wonted 
 earnestness and zeal. " The amount of speaking that he 
 did was appalling," says Bishop William Lawrence;
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 395 
 
 " four to seven sermons and addresses on a Sunday, Avith 
 sermons, addresses, and speeches in quick succession 
 through the week." 
 
 "He was the most unselfish man I ever knew," says 
 his secretary. "He was always sacrificing himself for 
 others. Not only did lie never speak of himself, but he 
 never even thought of himself." He seemed never to 
 waste a moment of time, and yet had time for every- 
 thing. He was careful always to keep appointments 
 promptly. 
 
 Bishop Brooks lived the frankness which he preached. 
 " To keep clear of concealment," he said, " to keep clear 
 of the need of concealment, to do nothing which he 
 might not do out on the middle of Boston Common at 
 noonday I cannot say how more and more that seems 
 to me to be the glory of a young man's life. It is an 
 awful hour when the first, necessity of hiding anything 
 comes. The whole life is different thenceforth." 
 
 Phillips Brooks kept his warm heart through life. 
 " Sentiment," he said, " is the finest essence of the 
 human life. It is, like all the finest things, the easiest 
 to spoil. . . . Let him glow with admiration, let him 
 burn with indignation, let him believe with intensity, 
 let him trust unquestioningly, let him sympathize with 
 all his soul. The hard young man is the most terrible 
 of all. To have a skin at twenty that does not tingle 
 with indignation at the sight of wrong, and quiver with 
 pity at the sight of pain, is monstrous." He thought a 
 young man should "go responsive through the world, 
 answering quickly to every touch, knowing the burdened 
 man's burden just because of the impressed lightness of 
 his own shoulders, . . . buoyant through all his uncon- 
 querable hope, overcoming the world with his exuberant
 
 396 PHILLIPS 1UIOOKS. 
 
 faith. . . . Be not afraid of sentiment, but only of un- 
 truth. Trust your sentiments, and so be a man." 
 
 Phillips Brooks urged the joy which he always showed 
 in his own life. " Joy, not sadness, is the characteristic 
 fact of young humanity. To know this, to keep it as 
 the truth to which the soul constantly returns, that 
 is the young man's salvation. Whatever young de- 
 pression there is, there must be no young despair. 
 In the morning, at least, it must seem a fine thing to 
 live." 
 
 He loved his work better than all else on earth. He 
 wrote a friend in England, " I have had a delightful 
 life; and the last twenty years of it, which I have 
 spent in Trinity Church, have been unbroken in their 
 happiness." 
 
 Bishop Brooks was courageous. In his sermon, " The 
 Man with Two Talents," he says, " To do great things in 
 spite of difficulties, that is a very bugle-call to many 
 men." 
 
 Again he says, in " Going up to Jerusalem," " Oh, do 
 not pray for easy lives ! Pray to be stronger men. Do 
 not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for pow- 
 ers equal to your tasks ! Then the doing of your work 
 shall be no miracle. But you shall be a miracle ! " 
 
 He emphasizes this in his sermon, " The Choice Young 
 Man," in his Fifth Series. " Sad is it when a community 
 grows more and more to abound in young men who wor- 
 ship wealth, and think they cannot live without luxury 
 and physical comfort. The choicest of its strength is 
 gone." 
 
 Of gambling he said, " In social life, in club, in col- 
 lege, on the street, the willingness of young men to give 
 or receive money on the mere turn of chances is a token
 
 PHILLIPS I1ROOKS. 397 
 
 of the decay of manliness and self-respect, which is more 
 alarming than almost anything besides." 
 
 Bishop Brooks was grandly optimistic. Dr. Samuel 
 Eliot says, " A mother wrote, asking him to baptize her 
 little boy, and he wrote back, ' What a glorious future 
 before a child born at the close of our century ! ' ' 
 
 " I don't want to be old," he used to say, " but I 
 should like to live on this earth five hundred years." 
 
 " Believe in man with all your childhood's confidence," 
 he wrote in " Visions and Tasks," " while you work for 
 man with all a man's prudence and circumspection. 
 Such union of energy and wisdom makes the completest 
 character, and the most powerful life." 
 
 He said, " I always like men who believe terribly in 
 other men." 
 
 " Nothing was more remarkable in him," says Canon 
 Farrar, " than his royal optimism. With him it was a 
 matter of faith and temperament. I think he must have 
 been born an optimist. Often, when I was inclined to 
 despond, his conversation, his bright spirits, his friendli- 
 ness, his illimitable hopes, came to me like a breath of 
 vernal air." 
 
 The summer of 1892 was spent in Europe by Dr. 
 Brooks. He wrote Archdeacon Farrar after his return, 
 on his birthday, Dec. 13, " In the midst of a thousand 
 useless things which I do every day, there is always com- 
 ing up the recollection of last summer, and how good you 
 were to me, and what enjoyment I had in those delight- 
 ful idle days. Never shall I cease to thank you for tak- 
 ing me to Tennyson's, and letting me see the great dear 
 man again. How good he was that day ! . . . and how 
 perfect his death was ! . . . And "NVhittier, too, is gone. 
 . . . How strange it seems, this writing against one
 
 398 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 friend's name after another that you will see his face no 
 more ! . . . I hope that you are well and happy. Do 
 not let the great world trouble you." 
 
 While he enjoyed England, he was thoroughly Ameri- 
 can. He wrote from London, "I think that the more 
 one travels here the more he feels that, while there is 
 very much to admire and desire in these English ways, 
 the simplicity and directness of our American fashions 
 of doing things are far more satisfactory." 
 
 Two weeks later he preached a Christmas sermon at 
 the Church of the Incarnation, New York, for his brother, 
 Dr. Arthur Brooks. This was the day of all days which 
 he loved. He enjoyed giving and receiving Christmas 
 gifts. 
 
 He said in his sermon, " One of the very wonderful 
 things about our human life is the perpetual freshness, 
 the indestructible joy, that clings forever about the idea 
 of birth. You cannot find the hovel so miserable, the 
 circumstances and the prospects of life so wretched, that 
 it is not a bright and glorious thing for a child to be born 
 there. 
 
 " Hope flickers up for an instant from its embers at 
 the first breathing of the baby's breath. No squalidness 
 of the life into which it came can make the new life 
 seem squalid at its coming. By and by it will grow dull 
 and gray, perhaps, in sad harmony with its sad surround- 
 ings ; but at the first there is some glory in it, and for a 
 moment it burns bright upon the bosom of the dulness 
 where it has fallen, and seems as if it ought to set it 
 afire. 
 
 " And so there was nothing that could with such vivid- 
 ness represent the newness of Christianity in the world 
 as to have it forever associated with the birth of a child.
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 399 
 
 " It is a strange, a wonderful, birth. ... I do not care 
 to understand that story fully. It is enough for me that 
 in it there is represented the full truth about the won- 
 drous child of Christmas Day. He is the child of heaven 
 and earth together. It is the spontaneous utterance of 
 the celestial life. It is likewise the answer to the cry 
 of need with which every hill and valley of the earth has 
 rung, that lies here in the cradle. . . . 
 
 "The humble birth of Jesus in the stable of the inn at 
 Bethlehem was a proclamation of the insignificance of 
 circumstances in the greatest moments and experiences 
 of life." 
 
 A few days later, Jan. 14, 1893, Bishop Brooks took 
 cold at the consecration of a church in East Boston, and 
 a soreness of throat resulted. Five days later, Thursday, 
 he seemed somewhat ill, and went to bed. A physician 
 came, but no alarm was felt. Sunday night the throat 
 grew diphtheretic, and the bishop became delirious. 
 Monday morning, Jan. 23, at 6.30, Phillips Brooks ceased 
 to breathe. 
 
 His last words, spoken to his brother William and the 
 faithful servants and nurse who stood by the bedside, as 
 he waved his hand, were, " Good-by ; I am going home. 
 I will see you in the morning." 
 
 The sad news could scarcely be believed. The great, 
 strong man, bishop for only a year and three months, 
 had fallen in his very prime. Men's faces were blanched, 
 and women wept. The poor and the rich had a common 
 sorrow. Even children felt the bereavement. A little 
 five-year-old girl was told by her mother that " Bishop 
 Brooks had gone to heaven." 
 
 The child knew and loved him, and had always 
 delighted to meet him. " O mamma ! " she replied, 
 " how happy the angels will be ! "
 
 400 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 On Thursday, Jan. 26, Bishop Brooks was buried. No 
 other funeral was ever like it in Boston. At 7.45 in the 
 morning the coffin was borne from the bishop's residence, 
 at the corner of Clarendon and Newbury Streets, to the 
 vestibule of Trinity Church, accompanied by a guard of 
 the Loyal Legion, of which Phillips Brooks was chaplain. 
 The colors of the Loyal Legion covered the coffin, on 
 Avhich lay some Easter lilies among palms. 
 
 It is estimated that from eight to eleven o'clock 
 twelve or fifteen thousand persons passed by the body 
 as it lay in state, and looked once more upon the face of 
 the man they loved and honored. A heavy plate glass 
 was over the face, and the coffin was hermetically sealed. 
 
 Rich and poor, children and adults, sobbed as they 
 passed on. A gray-haired and very poorly dressed 
 woman drew a cluster of roses from her bosom, and, 
 with tears flowing down her cheeks, laid them reverently 
 upon the casket. 
 
 A pale-faced woman, with a little boy scantily dressed 
 for the winter weather, who could not enter the church 
 for the crowd, begged a policeman to let her in. He 
 replied brusquely, telling her to get into line. 
 
 " Oli, but I must see him once more ! " she sobbed ; 
 " he paid for the operation which gave sight to my boy, 
 and I must see him again." 
 
 The people about her were moved by her entreaty, 
 and an usher quietly told the officer to allow the mother 
 and her child to come in. 
 
 Meantime Trinity Church had become filled with the 
 various delegations, from Harvard College, Boston 
 University, the Governor and Committee of the Legis- 
 lature, clergymen from a distance, theological schools, 
 officers of the Young Men's Christian Association and
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 401 
 
 Young Men's Christian Union, and various other organ- 
 izations. 
 
 The church was beautifully decorated. At the back 
 of the chancel was an arch of laurel, fifteen feet high 
 and nine feet wide, with a spruce-tree eight feet high on 
 each side. In front of this was a tall cross of Easter 
 lilies, and the baptismal font was filled with the same 
 flowers. Roses and lilies sent by friends were heaped 
 everywhere, although a request had been made that no 
 flowers should be sent. 
 
 Among the flowers was a cross with the words, " From 
 Helen." This was the gift of the little blind girl, Helen 
 Kellar, at the South Boston Institute for the Blind, of 
 whom the dead preacher was very fond. 
 
 Just before noon the body, borne on the shoulders of 
 eight strong men, picked from the various athletic teams 
 of Harvard, passed up the aisle of the church, headed by 
 the bishops and honorary pall-bearers. The whole con- 
 gregation joined in singing " Jesus, lover of my soul," 
 the music broken by audible sobbing. After brief ser- 
 vices, while the people remained standing, and the organ 
 played its low, solemn notes, the body was borne out 
 into Copley Square in front of Trinity, and placed on a 
 draped platform, where an out-door service was held for 
 the more than twenty thousand persons who could not 
 get inside the church. 
 
 A memorial service was held at the same hour in the 
 First Baptist Church, near by. 
 
 After the Lord's Prayer, in which all joined, the hymn 
 beginning, 
 
 " O God, our help in aijos past, 
 Our hope for years to come, 
 Our shelter from the stormy blast. 
 And our eternal home ; "
 
 402 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 was sung. Copies of it had been distributed among the 
 people. Three cornetists led the singing. 
 
 It was an hour never to be forgotten. Eyes unused to 
 tears were wet that day. 
 
 The funeral procession of fifty carriages then moved 
 towards Mount Auburn, across Harvard Bridge, through 
 a line of thousands of people. Places of business through- 
 out the city were closed, and the bells upon the churches 
 and public buildings in Boston and other cities were 
 tolled. 
 
 When the head of the procession reached Beck Hall, 
 Cambridge, the university bell began tolling, with the 
 old bell in Harvard Hall, and the bells of Christ Church, 
 chiming, 
 
 " Heaven's morning breaks 
 And earth's vain shadows flee." 
 
 Two thousand college students, standing several deep, 
 with heads uncovered, were formed in two lines from the 
 University building to the West Gate. Through their 
 ranks, entering from Harvard Street, the body of their 
 beloved preacher was borne. " Never in all our college 
 life," writes Dr. McKenzie, " has there been a burial 
 like his." 
 
 From the college grounds the procession moved to 
 Mount Auburn, where the brothers, John and Arthur, 
 conducted the services. Flowers, which the dead bishop 
 loved, lay everywhere upon the pure, white snow, lilies, 
 roses, carnations, and sheaves of wheat. The fence about 
 the family lot was hung with ivy and violets tied with 
 purple ribbon. 
 
 The crowd drew aside to let three weeping women look 
 into the open grave, before the dirt fell upon the coffin.
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 403 
 
 They were three sisters, servants who had long minis- 
 tered in the bishop's home, and whose devotion had been 
 repaid by constant appreciation and kindness. 
 
 The world went back to its work, but we are never the 
 same after a great life has touched our own. Phillips 
 Brooks said in his sermon on " Withheld Completion of 
 Life," " The ideal life is in our blood, and never will be 
 still. We feel the thing we ought to be beating beneath 
 the thing we are. Every time we see a man who has at- 
 tained our human ideal a little more fully than we have, 
 it awakens our languid blood and fills us with new 
 longings." 
 
 All who ever knew or heard Phillips Brooks will for- 
 ever strive after his unselfishness, his courage, his 
 thoughtfulness, his eagerness to make the world better. 
 
 Bishop William Lawrence, who succeeded Phillips 
 Brooks, wrote of him in the March - April, 1893, An- 
 dover Revieiv, "When all has been said about his elo- 
 quence, his mastery of language, and his tumult of 
 thought, we are turned back to the thought that the ser- 
 mons Avere great because the man was groat. His was 
 a great soul. He stood above us ; he moved in higher 
 realms of thought and life ; he had a wider sweep of 
 spiritual vision ; he Avas gigantic. And yet he Avas so 
 completely one of us, so sympathetic, childlike, and 
 naturally simple, that it was often only by an effort of 
 thought that we could reali/e that lie was great. Kingly 
 in character, AVC buried him like a king." 
 
 Memorial services were held in scores of churches ; in 
 Boston, in Lowell, in Worcester, in New York, in Maine, 
 in Rhode Island, and elscAvhere. At the old South 
 Church in Boston, Protestants and Roman Catholics 
 united in the service.
 
 404 PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 The Eev. Dr. Philip S. Moxom of the First Baptist 
 Church well said of Phillips Brooks, " He was a loyal 
 Episcopalian in the very best sense in which a man can 
 be loyal to the church of his choice ; but he was not and 
 could not be confined in the Episcopal Church. He be- 
 longed to no church or party or sect ; rather he belonged 
 to all churches and parties and sects in so far as they rep- 
 resent elemental truths and express elemental sympathies. 
 The Congregationalists claimed him, the Unitarians 
 claimed him, the Baptists claimed him, the Methodists 
 claimed him ; and the claims of all Avere just, because be- 
 neath all these names and party badges is the common 
 human heart and the one universal church of God ; and 
 to that human and that church of God, Phillips Brooks 
 belonged." The next generation will not remember the 
 rush of his voice in the pulpit, or the warm clasp of his 
 hand, or his kindling eye, but his influence will go on 
 forever. 
 
 As he himself said, "He whose life grows abundant 
 grows into sympathy with the lives of fellow-men, as 
 when one pool among the many on the seashore rocks 
 fills itself full, it overflows, and becomes one with the 
 other pools, making them also one with each other all 
 over the broad expanse." 
 
 For such a life there are no seashore limits; no limits 
 of time or space. His words will have fulfilment. We 
 shall " see him in the morning."
 
 " The most interesting books to me are the histories of individuals and individual 
 minds, all autobiographies, and the like. This is my favorite reading.'" H. W. 
 Longfellow. 
 
 "Mrs. Bolton never fails to interest and instruct her readers." Chicago Inter- 
 Ocean. 
 
 "Always written in a bright and fresh style." Boston Home Journal. 
 
 "Readable without inaccuracy." Boston Post. 
 
 POOR BOYS WHO BECAME FAMOUS. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. Short biographical sketches of George 
 Peabody, Michael Faraday, Samuel Johnson, Admiral Farragut, 
 Horace Greeley, William Lloyd Garrison, Garibaldi, President 
 Lincoln, and other noted persons who, from humble circumstances, 
 have risen to fame and distinction, and left behind an imperishable 
 record. Illustrated with 24 portraits. 121110. $1.50. 
 
 " It is seldom that a book passes under our notice which we feel impelled to 
 commend so highly to young readers, and especially to boys." JV. Y. Observer. 
 
 "No book within our knowledge is better suited to be adopted in the rapidly 
 growing reading-circles of our country." Journal of Education. 
 
 "Of this class of books we cannot have too many, the more we have the better. 
 This book, placed in the hands of our youth, will be worth more to them than gold." 
 Christian Intelligencer. 
 
 GIRLS WHO BECAME FAMOUS. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. Biographical sketches of Harriet Beecher 
 Stowe, George Eliot, Helen Hunt Jackson. Harriet Hosmer, Rosa 
 Bonheur, Florence Nightingale, Maria Mitchell, and other eminent 
 women. Illustrated with portraits. I2tno. $1-50. 
 
 " Mothers and daughters cannot fail to find it both an interesting and inspiring 
 book." Chicago Inter-Ocean. 
 
 " No better book can be put into the hands of a young girl." Ruffala Nr.vs. 
 
 " Such books as this will elevate the minds of young girls, help them to understand 
 the real problems of life, and leave a lasting impression on their minds and 
 character. Boston Herald. 
 
 FAMOUS MEN OF SCIENCE. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. Short biographical sketches of Galileo, 
 Newton, Linnanis, Cuvier, Humboldt, Audubon. Agassiz, Darwin, 
 Buckland, and others. Illustrated with 15 portraits, unio. $1.50. 
 
 "Cannot fail to delight, interest, and instruct every boy or girl who may have the 
 good fortune to read it." Queries. 
 
 " Possesses both interest and permanent value." Boston Transcript. 
 
 " No greater incentive to noble effort on the part of young men and women could 
 be furnished than the biographies of eminent and successful men such as the present 
 rolume contains." Brooklyn Standard Union. 
 
 (1)
 
 MRS. SARAH K. BOLTON'S FAMOUS BOOKS. 
 
 FAMOUS AMERICAN STATESMEN. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. Biographical sketches of Washington, 
 Franklin, Jefferson, Hamilton, Webster, Sumner, Garfield, and 
 others. Illustrated with portraits. i2mo. $1-50. 
 
 " With womanly tact and discernment, she notes keenly and describes charmingly 
 those minor traits of character which, after all, do most distinguish one individual 
 from another, and give human nature its subtle and wondrous variety." The Critic. 
 
 " It will be successful, and as useful as her other books have become. . . . Her 
 studies of character, and manner of description are exceptionally interesting." 
 Congregationalist. 
 
 FAMOUS ENGLISH STATESMEN. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. With portraits of Gladstone, John Bright, 
 Robert Peel, Lord Palmerston, Lord Shaftesbury, William Edward 
 Forster, Lord Beaconsfield. I2mo. $1.50. 
 
 "The author's comprehension of her task is complete. Students should not con- 
 sider their knowledge of the present reign thorough without a devoted reading of 
 Mrs. Bolton's work. It is an inspiration to the study of history, one of those rare 
 and delightful books which elevate respect for the race, and man in particular; a 
 book which makes the reader feel that to be a noble man is the highest privilege 
 and the sublimest aim." Chicago Tribune. 
 
 "A ready and accomplished writer." Philadelphia Public Ledger. 
 
 " Drawn with remarkable fidelity." Charleston News and Courier. 
 
 FAMOUS ENGLISH AUTHORS OF THE 19th CEN- 
 TURY. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. With portraits of Scott, Burns, Carlyle, 
 Dickens, Tennyson, Robert Browning, etc. I2mo. $1.50. 
 
 " She invests with fresh interest and charm those oft-told stories of the great 
 makers of our nineteenth-century literature." The Critic. 
 
 " Admirably executed. . . . Tney have a charm that no other kind of history can 
 rival." Golden Rule. 
 
 " Even more interesting than the preceding books, and will prove entertaining, not 
 only to young persons, but to older readers as well." N. Y. Star. 
 
 FAMOUS AMERICAN AUTHORS. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. Short biographical sketches of Holmes, 
 Longfellow, Emerson, Lowell, Aldrich, Mark Twain, and other 
 noted writers. Illustrated with portraits. I2mo. $1.50. 
 
 " Bright and chatty, giving glimpses into the heart and home life of some whom 
 the world delights to honor. . . . At once accurate, inviting, instructive." Chau- 
 tauquan. 
 
 " Nothing dry about the book. . . . Should find a place in the libraries of those 
 who can afford but few books." Omaha Daily Times. 
 
 " Will always hold rank in English literature, and all lovers of American author* 
 should read it." Ohio Slate Journal. 
 
 (2)
 
 MES. SARAH K. BOLTON'S FAMOUS BOOKS. 
 
 FAMOUS EUROPEAN ARTISTS. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. With portraits of Raphael, Titian, Land- 
 seer, Reynolds, Rubens, Turner, and others. I2ino. $1.50. 
 
 "The charm of the book, as of all by Mrs. Bolton, lies in the easy, conversational 
 naturalness with which the reader is led from page to page. Solid information and 
 pleasant entertainment are blended enjoyably. Young people in hundreds of homes 
 will read such a book with interest, and be the better tor it. Congregational 'ist. 
 
 "Abounds in information and entertainment." Philadelphia Bulletin. 
 
 " There is nothing in the line of current biography that is better fitted for 
 inculcating in the young a hearty taste for wholesome literature. . . . Printed in an 
 artistic manner." Troy Times. 
 
 " Elevated both in language and thought." Cleveland Leader. 
 
 STORIES FROM LIFE. (FICTION.) 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. A book of short stories, charming and 
 helpful. I2mo. $1.25. 
 
 " When one seeks mental recreation, he can do no better than to pick up this 
 entertaining and delightful volume." Chicago Current. 
 
 "A book for the home library, the Sunday-school, and wherever there are hearts to 
 be touched and minds to be influenced for good." New Haven Palladium. 
 
 " Sensible and matter-of-fact, and of the kind calculated for popularity, and 
 deserving of it. ... It would be better for the world of readers if there were more 
 of such writers." Literary World. 
 
 FAMOUS TYPES OF WOMANHOOD. 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. With portraits of Queen Louise, Madam 
 Recamier, Miss Dix, Jenny Lind, Susanna Wesley, Harriet Martin- 
 eau, Amelia B. Edwards, and Mrs. Judson. 121110. $1.50. 
 
 " Such a hook is well fitted to strengthen the courage and inspiration of every woman 
 who is learning to comprehend something of the inherent nobleness and glory of her 
 sex. " Hartjord Dnity Times. 
 
 " Wise mothers will give this volume to their daughters. Conscientious teachers will 
 read it to their scholars." Interior. 
 
 FAMOUS VOYAGERS AND EXPLORERS 
 
 By SARAH K. BOLTON. With portraits of Raleigh, Sir John 
 Franklin, Magellan, Dr. Kane, Greely, Livingstone, and others. 
 
 OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION. 
 
 for sale by all booksellers, or sent, postpaid, upon receipt of price by 
 the publishers. Catalogues sent free itpon application. 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO., 
 
 NEW YORK AND BOSTON. 
 (3)
 
 Mrs. Saral KM IK Bolton 
 
 Conies from good New England 
 .ancestry; descended on her 
 father's side from Henry Knowles, 
 who came to Khode Island from 
 London, England, in 1635, and 
 on her mother's side from Colonel 
 Nathaniel Stanley, of Hartford, 
 Conn., one of the leading men of 
 the colony, and from Colonel 
 William Pynchon, one of the 
 twenty-six incorporators of Mas- 
 sachusetts Bay Colony. She was 
 graduated from the Hartford 
 Seminary, established by Catha- 
 rine Beecher; published a volume 
 of poems, and in 1866 married 
 Charles E. Bolton, A.M., of Mas- 
 sachusetts, an Amherst College 
 graduate of '65. They removed 
 
 to Cleveland, O., where, besides writing for various periodicals, she 
 did much charitable work. She was secretary of the Woman's 
 Christian Association, and Asst. Cor. Sec. of the Nat. W. C. T. U. 
 She has twice visited Europe, spending two years in England, France, 
 Italy, Germany, Russia, Norway, and Sweden studying literary and 
 educational matters, and the means used by employers for the mental 
 and moral elevation of their employees. On the latter subject she 
 read a paper before the American Social Science Association in 1883. 
 She was for three years one of the editors of the Boston Congregation' 
 alist. She prepared several small books for the Cleveland Educational 
 Bureau, conducted gratuitously by her husband, and described by 
 Dr. Washington Gladden in the Century magazine, January, 1885. 
 The Bureau was discontinued when Mr. Bollon gave his time to 
 lecturing. 
 
 Mrs. Bolton has written: How Success is Won, 1884; Poor Boys 
 who became Famous, 1885; Girls who became Famous, 1886; Stories 
 from Life (fiction). 1886; Social Studies in England, 1886; Famous 
 AmericanAuthors, 1887; From Heart and Nature (poems), 1887, half 
 the book written by her son, Charles Knowles Bolton, Harvard College, 
 class 'UO; Famous American Statesmen, 1888; Some Successful 
 Women, 1888; Famous Men of Science, 1889; Famous English 
 Authors of the Nineteenth Century, 1890; Famous European Artists, 
 1890; Famous English Statesmen of Queen Victoria's Keign, 1891; 
 Famous Types of Womanhood, 1892. 
 
 Miss Frances E. Willard says of Mrs. Bolton, "She is one of 
 the best-informed women in America, the chief woman biographer of 
 our times." 
 
 Mrs. Bolton's books are for sale by all booksellers, or will be sent 
 postpaid upon receipt of price by the publishers. Complete cata- 
 logue sent free to any address upon application. 
 
 THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO., New Bo ^. and
 
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