I do not say that Orson Phelps was the product of nature and the Tri-bune:  but he cannot be explained without considering these two factors.  To him Greeley was the Tri-bune, and the Tri-bune was Greeley; and yet I think he conceived of Horace Greeley as something greater than his newspaper, and perhaps capable of producing another journal equal to it in another part of the universe.  At any rate, so completely did Phelps absorb this paper and this personality that he was popularly known as “Greeley” in the region where he lived.  Perhaps a fancied resemblance of the two men in the popular mind had something to do with this transfer of name.  There is no doubt that Horace Greeley owed his vast influence in the country to his genius, nor much doubt that he owed his popularity in the rural districts to James Gordon Bennett; that is, to the personality of the man which the ingenious Bennett impressed upon the country.  That he despised the conventionalities of society, and was a sloven in his toilet, was firmly believed; and the belief endeared him to the hearts of the people.  To them “the old white coat”—­an antique garment of unrenewed immortality—­was as much a subject of idolatry as the redingote grise to the soldiers of the first Napoleon, who had seen it by the campfires on the Po and on the Borysthenes, and believed that he would come again in it to lead them against the enemies of France.  The Greeley of the popular heart was clad as Bennett said he was clad.  It was in vain, even pathetically in vain, that he published in his newspaper the full bill of his fashionable tailor (the fact that it was receipted may have excited the animosity of some of his contemporaries) to show that he wore the best broadcloth, and that the folds of his trousers followed the city fashion of falling outside his boots.  If this revelation was believed, it made no sort of impression in the country.  The rural readers were not to be wheedled out of their cherished conception of the personal appearance of the philosopher of the Tri-bune.

That the Tri-bune taught Old Phelps to be more Phelps than he would have been without it was part of the independence-teaching mission of Greeley’s paper.  The subscribers were an army, in which every man was a general.  And I am not surprised to find Old Phelps lately rising to the audacity of criticising his exemplar.  In some recently-published observations by Phelps upon the philosophy of reading is laid down this definition:  “If I understand the necessity or use of reading, it is to reproduce again what has been said or proclaimed before.  Hence, letters, characters, &c., are arranged in all the perfection they possibly can be, to show how certain language has been spoken by the, original author.  Now, to reproduce by reading, the reading should be so perfectly like the original that no one standing out of sight could tell the reading from the first time the language was spoken.”