With school-days ended, the question of self-education became an
absorbing thought with Edward Bok. He had mastered a schoolboy's
English, but seven years of public-school education was hardly a basis
on which to build the work of a lifetime. He saw each day in his duties
as office boy some of the foremost men of the time. It was the period of
William H. Vanderbilt's ascendancy in Western Union control; and the
railroad millionnaire and his companions, Hamilton McK. Twombly, James
H. Banker, Samuel F. Barger, Alonzo B. Cornell, Augustus Schell, William
Orton, were objects of great interest to the young office boy. Alexander
Graham Bell and Thomas A. Edison were also constant visitors to the
department. He knew that some of these men, too, had been deprived of
the advantage of collegiate training, and yet they had risen to the top.
But how? The boy decided to read about these men and others, and find
out. He could not, however, afford the separate biographies, so he went
to the libraries to find a compendium that would authoritatively tell
him of all successful men. He found it in Appleton's Encyclopedia, and,
determining to have only the best, he saved his luncheon money, walked
instead of riding the five miles to his Brooklyn home, and, after a
period of saving, had his reward in the first purchase from his own
earnings: a set of the Encyclopedia. He now read about all the
successful men, and was encouraged to find that in many cases their
beginnings had been as modest as his own, and their opportunities of
education as limited.
One day it occurred to him to test the accuracy of the biographies he
was reading. James A. Garfield was then spoken of for the presidency;
Edward wondered whether it was true that the man who was likely to be
President of the United States had once been a boy on the tow-path, and
with a simple directness characteristic of his Dutch training, wrote to
General Garfield, asking whether the boyhood episode was true, and
explaining why he asked. Of course any public man, no matter how large
his correspondence, is pleased to receive an earnest letter from an
information-seeking boy. General Garfield answered warmly and fully.
Edward showed the letter to his father, who told the boy that it was
valuable and he should keep it. This was a new idea. He followed it
further: if one such letter was valuable, how much more valuable would
be a hundred! If General Garfield answered him, would not other famous
men? Why not begin a collection of autograph letters? Everybody
collected something.
Edward had collected postage-stamps, and the hobby had, incidentally,
helped him wonderfully in his study of geography. Why should not
autograph letters from famous persons be of equal service in his
struggle for self-education? Not simple autographs--they were
meaningless; but actual letters which might tell him something useful.
It never occurred to the boy that these men might not answer him.
So he took his Encyclopedia--its trustworthiness now established in his
mind by General Garfield's letter--and began to study the lives of
successful men and women. Then, with boyish frankness, he wrote on some
mooted question in one famous person's life; he asked about the date of
some important event in another's, not given in the Encyclopedia; or he
asked one man why he did this or why some other man did that.
Most interesting were, of course, the replies. Thus General Grant
sketched on an improvised map the exact spot where General Lee
surrendered to him; Longfellow told him how he came to write
"Excelsior"; Whittier told the story of "The Barefoot Boy"; Tennyson
wrote out a stanza or two of "The Brook," upon condition that Edward
would not again use the word "awful," which the poet said "is slang for
'very,'" and "I hate slang."
One day the boy received a letter from the Confederate general Jubal A.
Early, giving the real reason why he burned Chambersburg. A friend
visiting Edward's father, happening to see the letter, recognized in it
a hitherto-missing bit of history, and suggested that it be published in
the New York Tribune. The letter attracted wide attention and provoked
national discussion.
This suggested to the editor of The Tribune that Edward might have other
equally interesting letters; so he despatched a reporter to the boy's
home. This reporter was Ripley Hitchcock, who afterward became literary
adviser for the Appletons and Harpers. Of course Hitchcock at once saw a
"story" in the boy's letters, and within a few days The Tribune appeared
with a long article on its principal news page giving an account of the
Brooklyn boy's remarkable letters and how he had secured them. The
Brooklyn Eagle quickly followed with a request for an interview; the
Boston Globe followed suit; the Philadelphia Public Ledger sent its New
York correspondent; and before Edward was aware of it, newspapers in
different parts of the country were writing about "the well-known
Brooklyn autograph collector."
Edward Bok was quick to see the value of the publicity which had so
suddenly come to him. He received letters from other autograph
collectors all over the country who sought to "exchange" with him.
References began to creep into letters from famous persons to whom he
had written, saying they had read about his wonderful collection and
were proud to be included in it. George W. Childs, of Philadelphia,
himself the possessor of probably one of the finest collections of
autograph letters in the country, asked Edward to come to Philadelphia
and bring his collection with him--which he did, on the following
Sunday, and brought it back greatly enriched.
Several of the writers felt an interest in a boy who frankly told them
that he wanted to educate himself, and asked Edward to come and see
them. Accordingly, when they lived in New York or Brooklyn, or came to
these cities on a visit, he was quick to avail himself of their
invitations. He began to note each day in the newspapers the
"distinguished arrivals" at the New York hotels; and when any one with
whom he had corresponded arrived, Edward would, after business hours, go
up-town, pay his respects, and thank him in person for his letters. No
person was too high for Edward's boyish approach; President Garfield,
General Grant, General Sherman, President Hayes--all were called upon,
and all received the boy graciously and were interested in the problem
of his self-education. It was a veritable case of making friends on
every hand; friends who were to be of the greatest help and value to the
boy in his after-years, although he had no conception of it at the time.
The Fifth Avenue Hotel, in those days the stopping-place of the majority
of the famous men and women visiting New York, represented to the young
boy who came to see these celebrities the very pinnacle of opulence.
Often while waiting to be received by some dignitary, he wondered how
one could acquire enough means to live at a place of such luxury. The
main dining-room, to the boy's mind, was an object of special interest.
He would purposely sneak up-stairs and sit on one of the soft sofas in
the foyer simply to see the well-dressed diners go in and come out.
Edward would speculate on whether the time would ever come when he could
dine in that wonderful room just once!
One evening he called, after the close of business, upon General and
Mrs. Grant, whom he had met before, and who had expressed a desire to
see his collection. It can readily be imagined what a red-letter day it
made in the boy's life to have General Grant say: "It might be better
for us all to go down to dinner first and see the collection afterward."
Edward had purposely killed time between five and seven o'clock,
thinking that the general's dinner-hour, like his own, was at six. He
had allowed an hour for the general to eat his dinner, only to find that
he was still to begin it. The boy could hardly believe his ears, and
unable to find his voice, he failed to apologize for his modest suit or
his general after-business appearance.
As in a dream he went down in the elevator with his host and hostess,
and when the party of three faced toward the dining-room entrance, so
familiar to the boy, he felt as if his legs must give way under him.
There have since been other red-letter days in Edward Bok's life, but
the moment that still stands out preeminent is that when two colored
head waiters at the dining-room entrance, whom he had so often watched,
bowed low and escorted the party to their table. At last, he was in that
sumptuous dining-hall. The entire room took on the picture of one great
eye, and that eye centred on the party of three--as, in fact, it
naturally would. But Edward felt that the eye was on him, wondering why
he should be there.
What he ate and what he said he does not recall. General Grant, not a
voluble talker himself, gently drew the boy out, and Mrs. Grant seconded
him, until toward the close of the dinner he heard himself talking. He
remembers that he heard his voice, but what that voice said is all dim
to him. One act stamped itself on his mind. The dinner ended with a
wonderful dish of nuts and raisins, and just before the party rose from
the table Mrs. Grant asked the waiter to bring her a paper bag. Into
this she emptied the entire dish, and at the close of the evening she
gave it to Edward "to eat on the way home." It was a wonderful evening,
afterward up-stairs, General Grant smoking the inevitable cigar, and
telling stories as he read the letters of different celebrities. Over
those of Confederate generals he grew reminiscent; and when he came to a
letter from General Sherman, Edward remembers that he chuckled audibly,
reread it, and then turning to Mrs. Grant, said: "Julia, listen to this
from Sherman. Not bad." The letter he read was this:
"Dear Mr. Bok:--
"I prefer not to make scraps of sentimental writing. When I write
anything I want it to be real and connected in form, as, for
instance, in your quotation from Lord Lytton's play of
'Richelieu,' 'The pen is mightier than the sword.' Lord Lytton
would never have put his signature to so naked a sentiment.
Surely I will not.
"In the text there was a prefix or qualification:
"Beneath the rule of men entirely great
The pen is mightier than the sword.
"Now, this world does not often present the condition of facts
herein described. Men entirely great are very rare indeed,
and even Washington, who approached greatness as near as any
mortal, found good use for the sword and the pen, each in its
proper sphere.
"You and I have seen the day when a great and good man ruled this
country (Lincoln) who wielded a powerful and prolific pen, and
yet had to call to his assistance a million of flaming swords.
"No, I cannot subscribe to your sentiment, 'The pen is mightier
than the sword,' which you ask me to write, because it is not true.
"Rather, in the providence of God, there is a time for all things;
a time when the sword may cut the Gordian knot, and set free the
principles of right and justice, bound up in the meshes of hatred,
revenge, and tyranny, that the pens of mighty men like Clay,
Webster, Crittenden, and Lincoln were unable to disentangle.
"Wishing you all success, I am, with respect, your friend,
"W. T. Sherman."
Mrs. Grant had asked Edward to send her a photograph of himself, and
after one had been taken, the boy took it to the Fifth Avenue Hotel,
intending to ask the clerk to send it to her room. Instead, he met
General and Mrs. Grant just coming from the elevator, going out to
dinner. The boy told them his errand, and said he would have the
photograph sent up-stairs.
"I am so sorry we are just going out to dinner," said Mrs. Grant, "for
the general had some excellent photographs just taken of himself, and he
signed one for you, and put it aside, intending to send it to you when
yours came." Then, turning to the general, she said: "Ulysses, send up
for it. We have a few moments."
"I'll go and get it. I know just where it is," returned the general.
"Let me have yours," he said, turning to Edward. "I am glad to exchange
photographs with you, boy."
To Edward's surprise, when the general returned he brought with him, not
a duplicate of the small carte-de-visite size which he had given the
general--all that he could afford--but a large, full cabinet size.
"They make 'em too big," said the general, as he handed it to Edward.
But the boy didn't think so!
That evening was one that the boy was long to remember. It suddenly came
to him that he had read a few days before of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln's
arrival in New York at Doctor Holbrook's sanitarium. Thither Edward
went; and within half an hour from the time he had been talking with
General Grant he was sitting at the bedside of Mrs. Lincoln, showing her
the wonderful photograph just presented to him. Edward saw that the
widow of the great Lincoln did not mentally respond to his pleasure in
his possession. It was apparent even to the boy that mental and physical
illness had done their work with the frail frame. But he had the memory,
at least, of having got that close to the great President.