In 1822, the wild fancy possessed Southwick of becoming governor, and to preface the way for his visionary scheme he applied to a bright young journalist, the editor of the Manlius Republican, to canvass the western and southwestern counties of the State. Thurlow Weed at this time was twenty-six years old. He had worked on a farm, he had blown a blacksmith's bellows, he had shipped as a cabin-boy, he had done chores at a tavern, he had served as a soldier, and he had learned the printer's trade. For twenty years he lived a life of poverty, yet of tireless industry, with a simplicity as amazing as his genius. The only thing of which he got nothing was schooling. His family was an old Connecticut one, which had come down in the world. Everything went wrong with his father. He was hard-working, kind-hearted, and strictly honest, but nothing succeeded. With the hope of "bettering his condition," he moved five times in ten years, getting so desperately poor at last that a borrowed two-horse sleigh carried all his worldly goods, including a wife and five children. Joel Weed was, perhaps, as unfortunate a man as ever brought an illustrious son into the world. He was neither shiftless nor worthless, but what others did he could not do. He never took up land for himself because he had nothing to begin with. A neighbour who began with an axe and a hoe, entered fifty acres, and got rich.
If Joel Weed lived as a beggar, Thurlow thought as a king. He revelled in the mountains and streams interspersed along the routes of the family's frequent movings; his taste for adventure made the sloop's cabin a home, and his love for reading turned the blacksmith shop and printing office into a schoolroom. As he read he forgot that he was poor, forgot that he was ragged, forgot that he was hungry. In his autobiography he tells of walking bare-footed six miles through the snow to borrow a history of the French Revolution, and of reading it at night in the blaze of a pitch-pine knot. Men found him lovable. He was large and awkward; but even as a boy there was a charm of manner, a tender, sympathetic nature, a sweet, sparkling humour, and a nobility of character that irresistibly drew people to him. In many respects his boyhood resembled Lincoln's, and, though he lived in some of the evil days of the last century, his youth, like Lincoln's, escaped pollution. At the age of twelve, as an apprentice in a weekly newspaper office at Onondaga Hollow, he read and filed every exchange paper, familiarising himself with discussions in Congress, and imbibing a deadly hatred of England because of Indian barbarities excited by British agents, and cruelties to American seamen impressed by British officers. With the true instinct of his fine nature, he made his friends and companions among the wisest and highest of his time, although he loved all company that was not vicious and depraved. He knew Gerrit Smith in 1814; a few months' stay, as a journeyman printer, at Auburn, forged a lasting friendship with Elijah Miller, the father-in-law of William H. Seward, and with Enos T. Throop, afterward governor. His intimacy with Gorham A. Worth, a financier of decided literary tastes, and for thirty years president of the New York City Bank, began in Albany in 1816. Thus, in whatever town he worked or settled, the prominent men and those to grow into prominence became his intimates. He had women friends, too, as wisely chosen as the men, but Catherine Ostrander was the star of his life. He tells a touching little story of this Cooperstown maiden. Their engagement occurred in his seventeenth year, but her parents, objecting to the roving, unsettled youth, he proposed three years of absolute separation, and if then no change had come to her affections she should write and tell him so. In his hours of poverty, he was cheered by the thought of her, and when, at last, her letter came, he hastened to claim her as his bride. At the conclusion of the ceremony, he had money enough only to take them back to Albany.
Weed began the publication of the Manlius Republican in June, 1821. For three years previously the Agriculturist, published at Norwich, in Chenango County, had given him proprietorship, some reputation, and less money; but it had also classified him politically. He had never been a Federalist, nor could he be called a Clintonian, although his belief in canal improvement led him to the support of Governor Clinton and earned for him the opposition of the Bucktails. Like his father he worked without success, and then moved on to Albany; but he left behind him a coterie of distinguished Chenango friends who were ever after to follow his leadership. At Albany, he began to earn eighteen dollars a week as a journeyman printer on the Argus. The Bucktails forced him out and he went on to Manlius, resurrecting the Times, an old Federalist paper, which he called the Republican.
It was at this time that Southwick sought him. "He was insanely anxious to be governor," says Weed, "and all the more insane because of its impossibility. He had been editing with great industry and ability the Ploughboy and the Christian Visitant, and beguiled himself with a confident belief that farmers and Christians, irrespective of party, would sustain him. He provided me with a horse and wagon, and gave me a list of the names of gentlemen on whom I was to call, but I soon discovered that my friend's hopes and chances were not worth even the services of a horse that was dragging me through the mud. Years afterward I learned that in politics, as almost in everything else, Mr. Southwick was blinded by his enthusiasm and credulity."[221]
But Southwick was not the only blinded one in 1822. On the 10th of January, Governor Clinton wrote Henry Post "that Yates and Van Buren are both prostrate, and the latter particularly so."[222] Later in the year, on August 21, he declared: "Yates is unpopular, and Southwick will beat him in this city and in Schenectady."[223] In the next month, September 21, he is even more outspoken. "Yates is despised and talked against openly. Savage and Skinner talk plainly against him, and he is the subject of commonplace ridicule."[224] Clinton was the last person to abandon hope of Yates' defeat; and yet Yates' election could, without exaggeration, be declared practically unanimous.[225] Republican legislative candidates fared equally well. Clintonians and Federalists were entirely without representation in the Senate, and in the Assembly their number was insufficient to make their presence appreciable.
CHAPTER XXIX
CLINTON AGAIN IN THE SADDLE
1823-1824
The election in the fall of 1822 was one of those sweeping, crushing victories that precede a radical change; and the confidence with which the victors used their power hurried on the revolution prophesied in Clinton's clever letter to Post. The blow did not, indeed, come at once. The legislators, meeting in January, 1823, proceeded cautiously, agreeing in caucus upon the state officers whom the Legislature, under the amended Constitution, must now elect. John Van Ness Yates, the Governor's nephew, was made secretary of state; William L. Marcy, comptroller; Simeon DeWitt, surveyor-general, and Alexander M. Muir, commissary-general. The caucus hesitated to nominate DeWitt because he was a Clintonian; but forty years of honourable, efficient, quiet service finally appealed to a Republican Legislature with all the force that it had formerly appealed to the Skinner Council. There was more of a contest over the comptrollership. James Tallmadge suddenly blossomed into a rival candidate. Tallmadge, like John W. Taylor, won his spurs as a leader of the opposition to the Missouri Compromise. He had been an ardent supporter of Clinton until the latter preferred Thomas J. Oakley as attorney-general; then he swung into communion with the Bucktails. He was impulsively ambitious, sensitive to opposition, fearless in action, and such an inveterate hater that he could not always act along lines leading to his own preferment.