Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1872-12-13
Horace Greeley-His Illness and Last
Hours.
NEW YnpK Nnuennhar .


Greeley:
So far as any of his associates perceived
Mr. Greeley was in almost as good health
as usual when, on the day after election,
he wrote the card announcing his re-
sumption of the editorial charge OF the
Tribune His sleeplessness was known
to have become greatly worse, put 1or
wears he had suffered more or less from
the same difficulty, and as is now clear
sufficient allowance had not been made
for the intense strain upon him through
o1t the summer, especially during the
last month of his wife's illness. But it
soon became evident that his strength
was unequal to the hard task to which he
set himself He wrote only three or four
careful articles, no one of them half
column in length The most notable,
perhaps, was that entitled conclusions"
wherein he summed up his views of the
canvass. In all he wrote less than three
and half columns after his return, con-
tributing to only four issues of the paper.
Two or three times he handed his assist
ant short articles, saying, "There is an
idea worth using, but [ haven't felt able
to work it out properly. You had better
put it in shape"
At last, on Tuesday, the 18th inst, he
abandoned the effort to visit the office,
and sent for the family physician of Mr..
A. J. Johnson, the friend with whom he
was guest, and in whose home his
wife had died. Every effort was made
to induce sleep, but he grew steadily
worse, until it became evident that his
case was critical. DR.. George @. Choate
and others were called in consultation.
and finally it was decided to take him to
abo frUn
distant from Greeley's own country house
at Chappaqua. Here he received the un-
femitting attention of Dr. Choate. Here
DIR. Sequord, Dr. Brown and others were
called in consultation.
The insomnia had developed into in
tlammation of the brain, and under this
the tenerated patient rapidly sank. At
times he was delrious, at other times as
clear-headed as ever. He lost flesh and
strength with startling rapidity, and in
few days the possibility of his speedy
death forced itself into unwilling recog
milton. 1t was not, however, until
Thursday that his associates and family
brought themselves to admit it, and even
then they still chung to his faith IN the
vigor of his constitution
On Wednesday night he failed very
rapidly. Thursday afternoon and even
the night he slept very uneasily, mutter-
ing occasionally, and frequently raising
his right hand. Toward morning he was
more unquiet, and between eight and nine
o'clock fell into a nearly unconscious
condition, which continued, with some
intervals, through the day. He made &C.
casional EXPLANATIONS, but many of them,
in consequence of his extreme weakness
and apparent inability to finish what he
had begttn, were unintelligible. About
noon, however, he said quite distinctly,
and with some force, 81 know that my
Redeemer liveth."
During the day he recognized various
people, his daughter many times, the
members of his household at Chappaqua,
Mr.. John r. Stuart, and Mr.. Reid. On
the whole he suffered little, seemed to
have no more than the ordinary restless
ness that accompanies the last stage of
disease, and during the day his eXtreml.
ties were cold and there was no pulse at
the wrist. The action of the heart was
very intermittent and constantly dimin.
fishing in force. He had not asked for
water or been willing to drink since his
stay at DR.. Choate's, but during Friday
he asked for it frequently, and up to with
in half an hour of the end he mani
tested, in various ways, his con-
seriousness of what was going on
around him, and even answered
in monosyllables, and 4intelligently, ques-
tious addressed to him. About $50
o'clock he said very distinctly, cit is
done, and beyond the briefest answers to
questions, this was his last utterance.
His youngest daughter, Miss Gabrielle,
was with him through Thursday even
ing. Throughout Friday the eldest daugh-
ter, Miss Ida, was in constant attendance,
rs she had been during his illness and of
Mrs. Greeley's before him. Other mem
bers of his Chappaqua household were
present, with Mr.. and Mrs. John r
Stuart and few other friends. Nothing
that science or affection could suggest
was wanting to ease the last hours. The
wintry night had fairly set in when the
inevitable hour came.
Without, sleighs were running to and
fro, bearing to Chappaqua, the nearest
telegraph station, the latest bulletins
which the thousand of anxious hearts in
the great city near by kept demanding.
Within, the daughter and few others
stood near the dying man, who remained
conscious, md seemingly rational and
free from pain, though now too weak to
speak. In an adjoining room sat one or
two more friends and the physician. At
80 o'clock they drew back in reverent
stiffness from the bedside. The great
editor was gone in peace after so many
struggles and after SO much obloquy.
THE TRIBUNE's" EDITORIAL COMMENTS
The Iri5Hae for tomorrow says:
1.-The melancholy announcement of the
death Of the editor and founder of the
I}T6Nne though for few days it has been
expected by his family and intimate
friends, falls upon us with all the shock
Of sudden calamity. He had reached, in
deed, high old age, but time had not
laid its whitening touch on him. His
splendid constitution easily bore the strain
of enormous labor. His mind was as fresh
and strong, and suggestive as in the prime
of life, His generous impulses were I'M
chilled by disheartening experience.
Through the trying campaign which has
just closed, his physical vigOr, his tact,
his intellectual activity, surprised even
those who knew him best, and seemed to
promise many years of usefulness. 1t is
certain that no history of the most critical
period in our national life can ever be
written in which Horace Greeley shall
not be a conspicuous figure: but the
nOblest career i'll his eyes was that which
is given up to others wants. The suo-
cessful life was that which is worn out
in conflict with wrong and woe. The
only ambition worth following was the
ambition to elevate human misery, and
leave the world q little better than he
found it. That he had done this was the
consolation that frightened his last days
and assured him that he mad not lived in
vain.
cit is not for us, in the first hour Of our
loss, to paint his character or catalogue