Chapter XIII: Part 13

"With possibly a single exception, Garfield was the youngest member in the House when he entered, and was but seven years from his college graduation. But he had not been in his seat sixty days before his ability was recognized and his place conceded. He stepped to the front with the confidence of one who belonged there. The House was crowded with strong men of both parties; nineteen of them have since been transferred to the Senate, and many of them have served with distinction in the gubernatorial chairs of their respective States, and on foreign missions of great consequence; but among them all none grew so rapidly, none so firmly, as Garfield. As is said by Trevelyan, of his parliamentary hero, Garfield succeeded 'because all the world in concert could not have kept him in the back-ground, and because when once in the front he played his part with a prompt intrepidity and a commanding ease that were but the outward symptoms of the immense reserves of energy on which it was in his power to draw.' Indeed, the apparently reserved force which Garfield possessed was one of his great characteristics. He never did so well but that it seemed he could easily have done better. He never expended so much strength but that he appeared to be holding additional power at call. This is one of the happiest and rarest distinctions of an effective debater, and often counts for as much, in persuading an assembly, as the eloquent and elaborate argument.

"The great measure of Garfield's fame was filled by his service in the House of Representatives. His military life, illustrated by honorable performance, and rich in promise, was, as he himself felt, prematurely terminated, and necessarily incomplete. Speculation as to what he might have done in a field where the great prizes are so few, cannot be profitable. It is sufficient to say that as a soldier he did his duty bravely; he did it intelligently; he won an enviable fame, and he retired from the service without blot or breath against him. As a lawyer, though admirably equipped for the profession, he can scarcely be said to have entered on its practice. The few efforts he made at the bar were distinguished by the same high order of talent which he exhibited on every field where he was put to the test; and, if a man may be accepted as a competent judge of his own capacities and adaptations, the law was the profession to which Garfield should have devoted himself. But fate ordained otherwise, and his reputation in history will rest largely upon his service in the House of Representatives. That service was exceptionally long. He was nine times consecutively chosen to the House, an honor enjoyed probably by not twenty other Representatives of the more than five thousand who have been elected, from the organization of the government, to this hour.

"As a parliamentary orator, as a debater on an issue squarely joined, where the position had been chosen and the ground laid out, Garfield must be assigned a very high rank. More, perhaps, than any man with whom he was associated in public life, he gave careful and systematic study to public questions, and he came to every discussion in which he took part with elaborate and complete preparation. He was a steady and indefatigable worker. Those who imagine that talent or genius can supply the place or achieve the results of labor will find no encouragement in Garfield's life. In preliminary work he was apt, rapid and skillful. He possessed in a high degree the power of readily absorbing ideas and facts, and, like Dr. Johnson, had the art of getting from a book all that was of value in it by a reading apparently so quick and cursory that it seemed like a mere glance at the table of contents. He was a pre-eminently fair and candid man in debate, took no petty advantage, stooped to no unworthy methods, avoided personal allusions, rarely appealed to prejudice, did not seek to inflame passion. He had a quicker eye for the strong point of his adversary than for his weak point, and on his own side he so marshalled his weighty arguments as to make his hearers forget any possible lack in the complete strength of his position. He had a habit of stating his opponent's side with such amplitude of fairness and such liberality of concession that his followers often complained that he was giving his case away. But never in his prolonged participation in the proceedings of the House did he give his case away, or fail in the judgment of competent and impartial listeners to gain the mastery.

"These characteristics, which marked Garfield as a great debater, did not, however, make him a great parliamentary leader. A parliamentary leader, as that term is understood wherever free representative government exists, is necessarily and very strictly the organ of his party. An ardent American defined the instinctive warmth of patriotism when he offered the toast, 'Our country, always right; but right or wrong, our country.' The parliamentary leader who has a body of followers that will do and dare and die for the cause, is one who believes his party always right, but right or wrong, is for his party. No more important or exacting duty devolves upon him than the selection of the field and the time for contest. He must know not merely how to strike, but where to strike and when to strike. He often skillfully avoids the strength of his opponent's position, and scatters confusion in his ranks by attacking an exposed point when really the righteousness of the cause and the strength of logical intrenchment are against him. He conquers often both against the right and the heavy battalions; as when young Charles Fox, in the days of his Toryism, carried the House of Commons against justice, against its immemorial rights, against his own convictions, if, indeed, at that period Fox had convictions, and, in the interest of a corrupt administration, in obedience to a tyrannical sovereign, drove Wilkes from the seat to which the electors of Middlesex had chosen him, and installed Luttrell, in defiance not merely of law but of public decency. For an achievement of that kind Garfield was disqualified--disqualified by the texture of his mind, by the honesty of his heart, by his conscience, and by every instinct and aspiration of his nature.

"The three most distinguished parliamentary leaders hitherto developed in this country are Mr. Clay, Mr. Douglas, and Mr. Thaddeus Stevens. They were all men of consummate ability, of great earnestness, of intense personality, differing widely each from the others, and yet with a signal trait in common--the power to command. In the give-and-take of daily discussion, in the art of controlling and consolidating reluctant and refractory followers, in the skill to overcome all forms of opposition, and to meet with competency and courage the varying phases of unlooked-for assault or unsuspected defection, it would be difficult to rank with these a fourth name in all our Congressional history. But of these Mr. Clay was the greatest. It would, perhaps, be impossible to find in the parliamental annals of the world a parallel to Mr. Clay, in 1841, when at sixty-four years of age he took the control of the Whig party from the President who had received their suffrages, against the power of Webster in the Cabinet, against the eloquence of Choate in the Senate, against the herculean efforts of Caleb Cushing and Henry A. Wise in the House. In unshared leadership, in the pride and plentitude of power, he hurled against John Tyler, with deepest scorn the mass of that conquering column which had swept over the land in 1840, and drove his administration to seek shelter behind the lines of its political foes. Mr. Douglas achieved a victory scarcely less wonderful, when in 1854, against the secret desires of a strong administration, against the wise counsel of the older chiefs, against the conservative instincts, and even the moral sense of the country, he forced a reluctant Congress into a repeal of the Missouri Compromise. Mr. Stevens, in his contests from 1865 to 1868, actually advanced his parliamentary leadership until Congress tied the hands of the President and governed the country by its own will, leaving only perfunctory duties to be discharged by the Executive. With two hundred millions of patronage in his hands at the opening of the contest, aided by the active force of Seward in the Cabinet, and the moral power of Chase on the bench, Andrew Johnson could not command the support of one-third in either House against the parliamentary uprising of which Thaddeus Stevens was the animating spirit and the unquestioned leader.

"From these three great men Garfield differed radically, differed in the quality of his mind, in temperament, in the form and phase of ambition. He could not do what they did, but he could do what they could not, and in the breadth of his Congressional work he left that which will longer exert a potential influence among men, and which, measured by the severe test of posthumous criticism, will secure a more enduring and more enviable fame.

"Those unfamiliar with Garfield's industry, and ignorant of the details of his work may, in some degree, measure them by the annals of Congress. No one of the generation of public men to which he belonged has contributed so much that will prove valuable for future reference. His speeches are numerous, many of them brilliant, all of them well studied, carefully phrazed, and exhaustive of the subject under consideration. Collected from the scattered pages of ninety royal octavo volumes of Congressional record, they would present an invaluable compendium of the political events of the most important era through which the National government has ever passed. When the history of this period shall be impartially written, when war legislation, measures of reconstruction, protection of human rights, amendments to the Constitution, maintenance of public credit, steps toward specie resumption, true theories of revenue, may be reviewed, unsurrounded by prejudice and disconnected from partisanism, the speeches of Garfield will be estimated at their true value, and will be found to comprise a vast magazine of fact and argument, of clear analysis and sound conclusion. Indeed, if no other authority were accessible, his speeches in the House of Representatives from December, 1863, to June, 1880, would give a well-connected history and complete defense of the important legislation of the seventeen eventful years that constitute his parliamentary life. Far beyond that, his speeches would be found to forecast many great measures yet to be completed--measures which he knew were beyond the public opinion of the hour, but which he confidently believed would secure popular approval within the period of his own lifetime, and by the aid of his own efforts.

"Differing as Garfield does, from the brilliant parliamentary leaders, it is not easy to find his counterpart anywhere in the record of American public life. He, perhaps, more nearly resembles Mr. Seward in his supreme faith in the all-conquering power of a principle. He had the love of learning, and the patient industry of investigation, to which John Quincy Adams owes his prominence and his presidency. He had some of those ponderous elements of mind which distinguished Mr. Webster, and which, indeed, in all our public life have left the great Massachusetts Senator without an intellectual peer.

"In English parliamentary history, as in our own, the leaders in the House of Commons present points of essential difference from Garfield. But some of his methods recall the best features in the strong, independent course of Sir Robert Peel, to whom he had striking resemblances in the type of his mind and in the habit of his speech. He had all of Burke's love for the sublime and the beautiful with, possibly, something of his superabundance. In his faith and his magnanimity, in his power of statement, in his subtle analysis, in his faultless logic, in his love of literature, in his wealth and world of illustration, one is reminded of that great English statesman of to-day, who, confronted with obstacles that would daunt any but the dauntless, reviled by those whom he would relieve as bitterly as by those whose supposed rights he is forced to invade, still labors with serene courage for the amelioration of Ireland and for the honor of the English name.

"Garfield's nomination to the presidency, while not predicted or anticipated, was not a surprise to the country. His prominence in Congress, his solid qualities, his wide reputation, strengthened by his then recent election as Senator from Ohio, kept him in the public eye as a man occupying the very highest rank among those entitled to be called statesmen. It was not mere chance that brought him this high honor. 'We must,' says Mr. Emerson, 'reckon success a constitutional trait. If Eric is in robust health and has slept well and is at the top of his condition, and thirty years old at his departure from Greenland, he will steer west and his ships will reach Newfoundland. But take Eric out and put in a stronger and bolder man, and the ships will sail six hundred, one thousand, fifteen hundred miles farther and reach Labrador and New England. There is no chance in results.'

"As a candidate, Garfield steadily grew in popular favor. He was met with a storm of detraction at the very hour of his nomination, and it continued with increasing volume and momentum until the close of his victorious campaign:

No might nor greatness in mortality
Can censure 'scape; backwounding calumny
The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong
Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?

* * * * *

"Surely, if happiness can ever come from the honors or triumphs of this world, on that quiet July morning, James A. Garfield may well have been a happy man. No foreboding of evil haunted him; no slightest premonition of danger clouded his sky. His terrible fate was upon him in an instant. One moment he stood erect, strong, confident in the years stretching peacefully out before him. The next he lay wounded, bleeding, helpless, doomed to weary weeks of torture, to silence, and the grave.

"Great in life, he was surpassingly great in death. For no cause, in the very frenzy of wantonness and wickedness, by the red hand of murder, he was thrust from the full tide of this world's interests, from its hopes, its aspirations, its victories, into the visible presence of death--and he did not quail. Not alone for the one short moment in which, stunned and dazed, he could give up life, hardly aware of its relinquishment, but through days of deadly languor, through weeks of agony, that was not less agony because silently borne, with clear sight and calm courage, he looked into his open grave. What blight and ruin met his anguished eyes, whose lips may tell--what brilliant, broken plans, what baffled, high ambitions, what sundering of strong, warm, manhood's friendships, what bitter rending of sweet household ties! Behind him a proud expectant nation, a great host of sustaining friends, a cherished and happy mother, wearing the full, rich honors of her early toil and tears; the wife of his youth, whose whole life lay in his; the little boys not yet emerged from childhood's day of frolic; the fair young daughter; the sturdy sons just springing into closest companionship, claiming every day, and every day rewarding a father's love and care; and in his heart the eager, rejoicing power to meet all demand. Before him, desolation and great darkness! And his soul was not shaken. His countrymen were thrilled with instant, profound and universal sympathy. Masterful in his mortal weakness, he became the center of a nation's love, enshrined in the prayers of a world. But all the love and all the sympathy could not share with him his suffering. He trod the wine-press alone. With unfaltering front he faced death. With unfailing tenderness he took leave of life. Above the demoniac hiss of the assassin's bullet he heard the voice of God. With simple resignation he bowed to the Divine decree.

"As the end drew near, his early cravings for the sea returned. The stately mansion of power had been to him the wearisome hospital of pain, and he begged to be taken from its prison walls, from its oppressive, stifling air, from its homelessness and its hopelessness. Gently, silently, the love of a great people bore the pale sufferer to the longed-for healing of the sea, to live or to die, as God should will, within sight of its heaving billows, within sound of its manifold voices. With wan, fevered face, tenderly lifted to the cooling breeze, he looked out wistfully upon the ocean's changing wonders; on its fair sails, whitening in the morning light; on its restless waves, rolling shoreward, to break and die beneath the noonday sun; on the red clouds of evening, arching low to the horizon; on the serene and shining pathway of the stars. Let us think that his dying eyes read a mystic meaning which only the rapt and parting soul may know. Let us believe that in the silence of the receding world be heard the great waves breaking on a farther shore, and felt already upon his wasted brow the breath of the eternal morning."

We regret that we cannot give our readers the full speech here also, but it is sufficient to say that it was a masterly production. We give these three extracts from speeches to show, and enable the thinker to read and study the characteristics which make Mr. Blaine the great and renowned man that he really is to-day; an honor he has earned for himself.

We do not desire to be regarded as a personal admirer of Mr. Blaine. We are not, but his ability we are in duty bound to delineate truthfully. Our readers will observe the description Mr. Blaine gives in his address on Garfield, of the qualifications necessary in a parliamentary leader. We will say nothing as to our opinion of some enterprises in which Mr. Blaine has engaged; and we will not ask him to explain, what he has never satisfactorily explained, in relation to some transactions, nor will we try to explain, in our short space, his skillfullness in parliamentary practice. As before said, our readers have read his description of a parliamentary leader, and we will further simply say that Mr. Blaine is one of the most skillful parliamentary leaders in the country. He is generally recognized as such by all parties. His canvass for the presidency is well-known to the people. Had he been elected he would, undoubtedly, have made a very satisfactory president, probably one of whom we would long have been proud.

SAMUEL J. TILDEN.

In 1814 there was born at New Lebanon, New York, an infant son to Elam Tilden, a prosperous farmer. His father, being a personal and political friend of Mr. Van Buren and other members of the celebrated 'Albany Regency'; his home was made a kind of headquarters for various members of that council to whose conversation the precocious child enjoyed to listen.

Mr. Tilden declared of himself that he had no youth. As a boy he was diffident, and was studying and investigating when others were playing and enjoying the pleasures of society. From the beginning he was a calculator. Martin Van Buren, to whom he was greatly attached, often spoke of him as 'The sagacious Sammy.'

Thrown into contact with such men at his parent's home, he early evinced a fondness for politics which first revealed itself in an essay on 'The Political Aspect,' displaying ability far beyond one of his years, which was printed in the _Albany Argus_, and which was attributed to Mr. Van Buren, at that time the leader of the Albany Regency.

At twenty he entered Yale College, but ill-health compelled his return home. He, however, afterward resumed his studies at the University of New York; graduating from that institution he began the practice of law. At the bar he became known as a sound, but not especially brilliant pleader. In 1866 he was chosen Chairman of the State Committee of his party. In 1870-1, he was largely instrumental in unearthing frauds perpetrated in the city of New York, and in 1874 was elected the 'reform governor' of the great Empire State. Although in political discord with Mr. Tilden, it is in no disparaging sense that we speak of him. It is in the sense of a historian bound and obligated to truth that we view him. We regard him as the MYSTERIOUS STATESMAN OF AMERICAN HISTORY.

His personal character was, to a great extent, shrouded from the public in a veil of mystery, which had both its voluntary and involuntary elements. If Mr. Tilden had desired to be otherwise than mysterious it would have required much more self-control and ingenuity than would have been necessary to thicken the veil to impenetrability.

His habit was to weigh both sides of every question, and therein he resembled, though in other particulars entirely different, the late Henry J. Raymond, the founder of the _New York Times_; and the effect was to some extent similar, for each of these men saw both sides of every question so fully as to be under the power of both sides, which sometimes produced an equilibrium, causing hesitation when the crisis required action.

Mr. Tilden had intellectual qualities of the very highest order. He could sit down before a mass of incoherent statements, and figures that would drive most men insane, and elucidate them by the most painstaking investigation, and feel a pleasure in the work. Indeed, an intimate friend of his assures us that his eye would gleam with delight when a task was set before him from which most men would pay large sums to be relieved: Hence, his abilities were of a kind that made him a most dangerous opponent.

Some persons supposed that Mr. Tilden was a poor speaker because, when he was brought before the people as a candidate for President of the United States, he was physically unable to speak with much force. But twenty years ago, for clearness of statement, and for an easy and straightforward method of speech he had few superiors. His language was excellent, his manner that of a man who had something to say and was intent upon saying it. He was at no time a tricky orator, nor did he aim at rousing the feelings, but in the clearest possible manner he would make his points and no amount of prejudice was sufficient to resist his conclusions. He was a great reader, and reflected on all that he read.

No more extraordinary episode ever occurred than his break with William M. Tweed, and his devoting himself to the overthrow of that gigantic ring. It is not our purpose to treat the whole subject; yet, the manner of the break was so tragic that it should be detailed. William M. Tweed had gone on buying men and legislatures, and enriching himself until he had reached the state of mind in which he said to the public, "What are you going to do about it?" He had gone further. He had applied it to the leading men of the Democratic party. The time came when he sat in his gorgeously furnished apartment in Albany, as Chairman of a certain committee of the Senate. Samuel J. Tilden appeared before the committee to represent a certain interest. On that occasion Mr. Tweed, who was either intoxicated with liquor, or intoxicated with pride and vanity, grossly insulted Mr. Tilden, spoke to him in the most disrespectful manner, and closed by saying: "YOU ARE AN OLD HUMBUG; YOU ALWAYS WERE A HUMBUG, AND WE DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING FROM YOU!"

Mr. Tilden turned pale, and then red, and finally livid. A spectator, a man second to none in New York State for position, informed the writer that as he gazed upon Mr. Tilden he was terrified. Not a word did he utter; he folded up his books and papers and departed. As he went the spectator said to himself, "This man means murder; there will never be any accommodation of this difficulty." Back to the City of New York went Mr. Tilden. He sat down with the patience and with the keen scent of a sleuth-hound, and unravelled all the mystery of the iniquity which had cursed the City of New York, and of which William M. Tweed was the master-spirit.

Judge Noah Davis said to an acquaintance that 'Mr. Tilden's preparation of the cases against Tweed and his confederates was one of the most remarkable things of which he had ever seen or heard. He said that Tilden would take the mutilated stubbs of check-books, and construct a story from them. He had restored the case of the city against the purloiners as an anatomist, by the means of two or three bones, would draw you a picture of the animal which had inhabited them in the palæontological age.' It will be remembered that Judge Noah Davis tried the cases and sentenced Tweed.

It is not necessary for us to conjecture whether Mr. Tilden would have appeared as the reformer if he had not been grossly insulted by Tweed. That he had not so appeared until the occasion referred to, and that immediately afterward he began the investigation and movements which ended in the total overthrow of the ring and its leader, are beyond question. There came a time when Tweed, trembling in his very soul, sent a communication to Mr. Tilden offering anything if he would relax, but no bronze statue was ever more silent and immovable than Samuel J. Tilden at that time. It is remarkable that a man so silent and mysterious, not to say repellent, in his intercourse with his fellow-men could exert such a mighty influence as he unquestionably did. He did it by controlling master-minds, and by an apprehension rarely or never surpassed of the details to be wrought out by other men.

Mr. Tilden was capable of covering his face with a mask, which none could penetrate. The following scene occurred upon a train on the Hudson River road. Mr. Tilden was engaged in a most animated conversation with a leading member of the Republican party with whom he entertained personal confidential relations. The conversation was one that brought all Mr. Tilden's learning and logical forces into play. It was semi-literary, and not more political than was sufficient to give piquancy to the interview. A committee of the lower class of ward politicians approaching, Mr. Tilden turned to receive him, and in the most expressionless manner held out his hand. His eye lost every particle of lustre and seemed to sink back and down. The chairman of the committee stated the point he had in view. Mr. Tilden asked him to restate it once or twice; made curious and inconsequential remarks, appeared like a man just going to sleep, and finally said: "I will see you on the subject on a future occasion." The committee withdrew. In one moment he resumed the conversation with the brilliancy and vivacity of a boy. Subsequently the chairman of the committee said to the leading Republican, whom he also knew: "Did you ever see the old man so nearly gone as he was to-day? Does he often get so? Had he been taking a drop too much?"

He was at no time in his career embarrassed in his intellectual operations by his emotional nature; he was a man of immense brain-power, and his intellect was trained up to the last possibility; every faculty was under his control; until his health failed he knew no such other source of joy as WORK.

Craft had a very important place in his composition, but it was not the craft of the fox; it was a species of craft which at its worst was above mere pettifogging, and at its best was unquestionably a high type of diplomacy. Those mistake who considered him only as a cunning man. A person opposed to him in politics, but who made a study of his career, observed that in power of intellect he had no superior at the bar of New York, nor among the statesmen of the whole country. The supreme crisis of his life was when he believed himself elected President of the United States. The political aspect we will not revive, except to say that Mr. Tilden consented to the peculiar method of determining the case. The departure of David Davis from the supreme bench in all human probability determined the result.

It is known that Abram S. Hewitt, David Dudley Field, and eminent Democratic leaders, Hewitt being chairman of the National Democratic committee at the time, did all in their power to induce Mr. Tilden to issue a letter to the American people saying that he believed himself to be the President elect, and that on the fourth day of March 1877, he would come to Washington to be inaugurated. Had that been done God alone can tell what would have been the result. In all probability a _coup d'etat_ on one side or the other, followed by civil war or practical change in the character of the relations of the people to the Federal Government. At that moment Mr. Tilden's habit of balancing caused him to pursue the course that he did. It is reported that Mr. Tilden's letter explaining to Mr. Hewitt the reason why he would not do so is still in existence. Of this we know nothing; but that he had reasons and assigned them is certain. Why he consented to the method of arbitration is one of the mysteries of his career. Taking all the possibilities into account, the fact that the issue passed without civil war is an occasion of devout thankfulness to Almighty God. But the method of determining the question is one which the good sense of the American people will never repeat.

Mr. Tilden must have had considerable humor in his composition. Some years ago a Methodist preacher came to the city of New York to raise money for a certain church in Pennsylvania which had been grievously embarrassed. He stayed at the house of one of the ministers in Brooklyn. One evening he said to his host: "I am going to call on Samuel J. Tilden and see if I can't get something out of him for our church. He has a 'barrel,' and I understand it is pretty full." The next morning he went, and on returning said to his host: "Well, I called on Mr. Tilden, and I said: 'Mr. Tilden, I am from----, such a place, in Pennsylvania. My name is----. I am pastor of a church there. We have met with great misfortunes, and are likely to lose our church. There are more than sixty members of my church that voted for you for President, and they are ready to vote for you again, and they wanted me to call on you and tell you of their misfortune, and ask you to give them a little help.'"

"Well, what did Mr. Tilden say?" "He looked up and said he was busy, but told me to come the next morning at nine o'clock." He went, and on his return reported, when the question: "What did Mr. Tilden say"? was asked. "He said to me, 'Your name is----? You are from----, in Pennsylvania? You said that you had more than sixty members who voted for me for President, and who are ready to do it again"? "Yes." "And they wanted you to tell me of their misfortune"? "Yes." Then pulling out of his pocket-book he counted what money he had, which amounted to $15, and handed me $14, and said: "You tell them that Samuel J. Tilden gave you ALL THE MONEY HE HAD EXCEPT ONE DOLLAR, WHICH HE KEPT FOR HIMSELF." In all probability he was satirizing an appeal under those circumstances.

For his service in breaking up the Tweed ring, and for his career as Governor of the State of New York, apart from purely party aspects, he is entitled to the thanks of the people. His own party will say to the end of time that he was elected president of the United States, and defrauded out of the office. But neither they nor anyone else can say, after the plan was agreed upon and adopted for determining the result, that the person who did occupy the chair did not have a legal right there, and was not president after the acceptance by the House of Representatives of the conclusion.

Mr. Tilden will never be considered inferior in intellect and learning to the many great men of whom New York can proudly boast. He will ever be ranked with Daniel Tompkins, George Clinton, William L. Marcy, Silas Wright, William H. Seward, John A. Dix and many others, and it is not strange that it was with a feeling of deep and genuine regret that on the 4th of August, 1886, the people were told of his sudden death at 'Greystone.'

HENRY WARD BEECHER.

A sturdy tree, standing alone in a vast field, suggesting strength, growth and independence, and regarded both as a landmark and a shelter; withstanding alike the heats of summer and wrestling with and throwing off the blasts of winter; drawing from Nature her myriad stores of nutrition and giving back to Nature a wealth of power and grace in return; seemed Henry Ward Beecher, in his youth of old age, to the observation of men. Original orator, advocate, poet, humorist, agitator, rhetorician, preacher, moralist and statesman. The greatest preacher of modern times, possibly of all times, the man was one of the wonders of America; one of the marvels of the world.

Henry Ward Beecher's career has been phenomenal for the activity and variety of its achievements. Coming from a long line of mentally alert and physically vigorous ancestors, he was richly endowed with the qualities going to make up the highest type of human nature. He was handicapped only in being the son of a man whose fame was world-wide; a preacher of such intensity of spirit and eloquence of expression that he stood at the head of, if not above, all of his contemporaries. Yet, while Dr. Lyman Beecher will always hold an honored place in American history and biography, who can deny that his fame has been far outshone by that of his brilliant son? It may be truly said, therefore, that Henry Ward Beecher won a double triumph. He emerged from the comparative obscurity in which he dwelt, behind the shadow of his father's greatness, and he lived to see his own name emblazoned more brightly and engraved more indelibly upon the records of time than that of his noble father.

He was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, June 24th, 1813. His father was a busy minister, and the mother divided her time among several children, so that no especial attention was paid to Henry Ward, nor was he considered more promising than some of the others. He was not, by any means, fond of books in early life. He gives the following sketch of himself in one of his personal writings: 'A hazy image of myself comes back to me--a lazy, dreamy boy, with his head on the desk, half-lulled asleep by the buzzing of a great blue-bottle fly, and the lowing of the cows, and the tinkling of their bells, brought into the open door, across the fields and meadows.' Through the advice of his father, he attended Mount Pleasant Academy. Afterwards he attended Amherst College where he graduated in 1834. During his last two years of school, Beecher followed the example of many another young man who has since attained eminence in his chosen profession, and taught in district schools. With the money thus obtained he laid the foundation upon which he built that splendid superstructure which is recalled at the sound of his name.

Dr. Lyman Beecher meanwhile had accepted a professorship at Lane Seminary, Cincinnati, and having decided to follow the ministry, the son went West this same year and began the study of theology under his father. He finished his course three years later, married, and accepted the first charge offered him; a small Presbyterian Church in Lawrenceburg, a little town on the Ohio river, near Cincinnati. Of this dismal beginning of his illustrious career he said:

"How poor we were! There were only about twenty persons in the flock. I was janitor as well as pastor of the little white-washed church. I bought some lamps and I filled them and lighted them. I swept the church and dusted the benches, and kindled the fire, and I didn't ring the bell, because there wasn't any; did everything in fact but come to hear myself preach, that they had to do. It doesn't occur to me now that Lawrenceburg was remarkable for anything but a superabundance of distilleries. I used to marvel how so many large distilleries could be put in so small a town. But they were flourishing right in the face of the Gospel, that my little flock and I were preaching in the shadows of the chimneys. My thoughts often travel back to my quaint little church and the big distilleries at Lawrenceburg. Well, my next move was to Indianapolis. There I had a more considerable congregation, though I was still far from rich in the world's goods. I believe I was very happy during my eight years out there. I liked the people. There was a hearty frankness, a simplicity in their mode of life, an unselfish intimacy in their social relations that attracted me. They were new people--unharrowed and uncultured like the land they lived on--but they were earnest and honest and strong. But the ague shook us out of the State. My wife's health gave out and we were forced to come East."

From this it would seem that chills and fever were the means used by Providence for bringing Henry Ward Beecher and Plymouth Church together. The church came into existence on the 8th of May, 1847, when six gentlemen met in Brooklyn at the house of one of their number, Mr. Henry C. Bowen, the present proprietor of the _Independent_, and formed themselves into a company of trustees of a new Congregational Church, the services of which they decided to begin holding at once in an edifice on Cranberry street, purchased from the Presbyterians. The following week Mr. Beecher happened to speak in New York, at the anniversary of the Home Missionary Society. He had already attracted some attention by his anti-slavery utterances, and the fearless manner in which he had preached against certain popular vices.

The founders of the new congregation invited him to deliver the opening sermon on the 16th. A great audience was present, and shortly afterwards the young preacher was asked to become the first pastor of the organization. He accepted, and on the 10th of the following October he entered upon the term of service which lasted until the day of his death. And what a pastorate that was! The congregation readily grew in numbers and influence until Plymouth Church and Henry Ward Beecher became household words all over the land, and a trip to Brooklyn to hear the great preacher grew to be an almost indispensable part of a stranger's visit to New York.

At the opening of the civil war, in 1861, Mr. Beecher undertook the editorship of the _Independent_ which, like the church under his administration, speedily became a power in the country. In addition to all this work he was continually delivering speeches; for from the firing of the first gun on Fort Sumpter on April 12th, Plymouth's pastor was all alive to the needs of the nation. With voice and pen he pointed out the path of duty in that dark and trying hour, and his own church promptly responded to the call by organizing and equipping the First Long Island regiment. But the strain of this threefold service--preaching, speaking and editing, was too much for his strength, powerful and well-grounded, as he was, physically. His voice gave out at last, and doctors imperatively demanded rest. This brought about the trip to Europe which was destined to be remembered as the most remarkable epoch in the remarkable career of this man.

Decidedly the most memorable oratorical success ever achieved by an American citizen abroad, in behalf of the name and honor of his country, was that by the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, which he achieved during this trip. Undertaking the journey for recreation and recuperation he was bitterly opposed by his friends in his decision, but he saw there was work to be done, and felt that he must do it. Beginning at Manchester, October 9th, Mr. Beecher delivered five great speeches in the great cities of the kingdom, Manchester, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Liverpool and London, each speech being devoted to some special train of thought and argument bearing upon the issues involved in the momentous contest; and the whole series taken together did more for the Union cause in Great Britain than all that had before been said or written. Possessing the faculty beyond any other American orator of combining close, rapid, powerful, practical reasoning with intense passion--his mind always aglow with his subject--the effect of Mr. Beecher's speaking was to kindle sympathy, even if it did not flash conviction. It is this quality, according to the opinion of those best acquainted with Mr. Beecher's oratory, which combined with his marvelous power of illustration, marvelous alike for its intense vividness and unerring pertinency, and his great flexibility whereby he seemed to adapt himself completely to the exigency of the instant gave him rare command over a popular assemblage.

Mayor Carrington, of Richmond, tells the following: "He went to Richmond in 1881, his first appearance there after the war, and he was somewhat doubtful as to the reception he would get. He walked onto the stage where he was to lecture, before a crowded house, and was not greeted with the slightest welcoming applause. Immediately in front of the stage facing Mr. Beecher were several leading ex-generals of the Confederate army, among them General Fitz-Hugh Lee. Mr. Beecher surveyed the cold and critical audience for a moment, and then stepping directly in front of General Lee, he said, 'I have seen pictures of General Fitz-Hugh Lee, and judge you are the man; am I right?' General Lee was taken aback by this direct address, and nodded stiffly, while the audience bent forward breathless with curiosity as to what was going to follow. 'Then,' said Beecher, his face lighting up, 'I want to offer you this right hand which, in its own way, fought against you and yours twenty-five years ago, but which I would now willingly sacrifice to make the Sunny South prosperous and happy. Will you take it, General?' There was a moment's hesitation, a moment of death-like stillness in the hall, and then General Lee was on his feet, his hand was extended across the footlights, and was quickly met by the preacher's warm grasp. At first there was a murmur, half surprise, half-doubtfulness, by the audience. Then there was a hesitating clapping of hands, and before Mr. Beecher had loosed the hand of Robert E. Lee's nephew,--now Governor of Virginia--there were cheers such as were never before heard in that hall, though it had been the scene of many a war and political meeting. When the noise subsided, Mr. Beecher continued: 'When I go back home I shall proudly tell that I have grasped the hand of the nephew of the great Southern Chieftain; I shall tell my people that I went to the Confederate capitol with a heart full of love for the people whom my principles once obliged me to oppose, and that I was met half way by the brave Southerners who can forgive, as well as they can fight.' That night Beecher entered his carriage and drove to his hotel amid shouts, such as had never greeted a Northern man since the war."

The famous Beecher-Tilton trial began in a series of whispers. With such an immense congregation, with everybody in Brooklyn familiar with his affairs, and with the whole community seemingly resolved into an immense gossiping committee, it was no wonder that rumors and report went flying about until at last, in the summer of 1874, Plymouth Church appointed a committee to investigate the charges preferred by Theodore Tilton against Mr. Beecher.

Mr. Tilton read a sworn statement detailing his charges and specifying the actions of Mrs. Tilton and Mr. Beecher during the previous two years. This was on July 28th, and on the next day Mr. Beecher made his speech declaring the innocence of Mrs. Tilton; and she, too, testified in her own defense. Mr. Beecher made an elaborate statement before his congregation, August 14th, denying all immorality. Mr. and Mrs. Tilton were subjected to a most thorough examination and cross-examination, and then Mr. Francis D. Moulton, the famous mutual friend, came into the matter with his story of a most remarkable series of confessions and letters. The committee reported its findings at the weekly prayer-meeting, August 28th. Mr. Beecher was acquitted, and Mr. Moulton was most vigorously denounced, and when he left the meeting it was under police protection, because of the fury of the friends of the pastor. Before this Mr. Tilton had concluded to go to the courts, and on August 19th opened a suit for $100,000 against Mr. Beecher. It was not until October 17th that Judge Neilson granted an order for a bill of particulars against the plaintiff, and William M. Evarts, for Mr. Beecher, and Roger A. Pryor for Mr. Tilton, carried the case up to the Court of Appeals, where the decision of the general term was reversed, and on December 7th, the new motion for a bill was granted.

It was on January 4th, 1875, that the case was taken up in the City Court of Brooklyn. For Mr. Tilton appeared General Pryor, ex-Judge Fullerton, William A. Beach and S. D. Morris; while on the other side were William M. Evarts, General Benjamin F. Tracy and Thomas G. Shearman. The first witness was Editor Maverick, who testified on the 13th of January to the Tilton marriage. Mr. Tilton took the stand on January 29th, and Mr. Evarts objected to his being sworn, and took several days to state his objections. From February 2nd to February 17th, Mr. Tilton was on the stand, and the case for the defense opened on February 25th, and the first witness took the stand March 2nd. Mr. Beecher took the stand April 1st, and affirmed his testimony. He kept the stand until April 21st, and on May 13th the testimony on both sides closed after the examination of one hundred and eleven witnesses, and the consumption of four and one-half months of time. Mr. Evarts took eight days for his summing up, and other counsel for the defense six more. Mr. Beach talked for nine days, and Judge Neilson, on June 24th, charged the jury, which, after a consultation of eight days, reported on July 2nd, that they were unable to agree. All through the trial Mrs. Beecher sat beside her husband in court. The court was packed day after day, and in the daily papers thousands of columns were consumed in reporting every word uttered. It was never tried again.

The enormous expense of the defense was met by a generous subscription. Mr. Beecher's letters were remarkable productions for any man other than Beecher to pen, and the explanation of them so that the jury-men, and men generally, could comprehend them was the task of his counsel. Mr. Tilton is now in Europe, and Mrs. Tilton is in this country. Mr. Beecher passed through the ordeal of his life in safety, and since the trial he has been watched as no man ever has been before or since.

He was unquestionably one of the most able, if not the ablest, preacher the world ever knew, and it is not strange that the country should be startled at the announcement of his sudden death on march 7th, 1887, at his home in Brooklyn.

Henry Ward Beecher is already as historical a character as Patrick Henry; with this exception, that whereas there are multitudes living who have seen and heard Mr. Beecher, and many who knew him personally; there are few, if any, who can remember Patrick Henry. Mr. Beecher was the most versatile and ready orator this country has ever produced,--a kind of Gladstone in the pulpit. He was a master of every style; could be as deliberate and imposing as Webster; as chaste and self-contained as Phillips; as witty and irregular as Thomas Corwin; as grandiloquent as Charles Sumner; as dramatic as father Taylor, and as melo-dramatic as Gough.

To attempt to analyze the sources of his power is like exhibiting the human features separately, in the hope of giving the effect of a composite whole; for whether he moved his finger, elevated his brow, smiled, frowned, whispered or vociferated, each act or expression derived its power from the fact that it was the act and expression of Henry Ward Beecher. His oratory was marked by the entire absence of trammels, of rhetoric gesture or even grammar. Not that his style was not ordinarily grammatical and rhetorical, but that he would never allow any rules to impede the expression of his thought and especially of his feelings, nor was he restrained by theological forms, and always appeared independent and courageous. He believed in the absolute necessity of conversion and a thorough change of heart; he taught the beauty of living a religious life, for the nobleness of the deeds rather than for the purpose of escaping a future punishment, and his sayings in this connection were often misconstrued.

He stimulated the intellect by wit; he united the heart and mind by humor; he melted the heart by un-mixed pathos. He was characterized by the strange power of creating an expectation with every sentence he uttered, and though he might on some occasions, when not at his best, close without meeting the expectations aroused, no dissatisfaction was expressed or apparently felt by his hearers. In personal appearance he was remarkable, chiefly for the great transformation of his countenance under the play of emotion.

On the platform of Plymouth Church he was as a king upon his throne, or the commander of a war-ship in victorious action. His manners in private life were most ingratiating. His writings can impart to coming generations no adequate conception of his power as an orator. His career in England during those five great speeches were worth 50,000 soldiers to the National government, and probably had much to do with the prevention of the recognition of the Southern Confederacy by European nations. It was a triumph of oratory; he literally compelled a vast multitude, who were thoroughly in opposition to him, to take a new view of the subject.

A Metropolitan in the pulpit, a magician on the platform, a center of life and good cheer in the home, a prince in society possessed of exhaustive vitality, warmth and energy, he suggested to any one who gazed upon him the apostrophe of _Hamlet_ to the ideal man: "What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!" Such a piece of work was Henry Ward Beecher. He had no predecessor, and can have no successor till a similar ancestry and life; the one coeval with birth, and the other running parallel with the lusty youth of such a nation, and a similar life and death struggle, both in a conflict of moral principles fought out under a Democratic form of Government, shall combine to evolve a similar career. The course of human history does not furnish a probability of another coincidence of elements so extraordinary.

GREAT INVENTORS AND THEIR INVENTIONS.

JAMES WATT.

In this advanced age we know the power of steam, and what a great factor it is as a help in carrying on the daily work of life. Yet, it is only during the last century that men have discovered to how many purposes it can be applied.

James Watt, the great utilizer of steam, was born in Greenock, Scotland, January 19th, 1736. His father was a carpenter and general merchant in Greenock, and seems to have been highly respected, for he was long a member of the council, and for a time, magistrate. James was a sickly child, unable to attend school with regularity, hence was left to follow his own inclinations; becoming his own instructor, to a great extent. The boy was early furnished with tools by his father, and with them found amusement and instruction. He early manifested a taste for mathematics and mechanics, studied botany, chemistry, mineralogy, natural philosophy, and at fourteen constructed an electrical machine.