William Henry Harrison, Noble Roman

On March 4, 1841, William Henry Harrison gave, in a record that stands to this day, the longest inaugural address. It took him an hour and forty-five minutes to deliver his remarks, on a cold, snowy day in Washington City all those years ago. Later, he died (probably) of pneumonia. The two events are inevitably linked in mentions of the demise of this shortest of short-time presidents one month later, but standing in the wet cold for a while, by itself, doesn't cause pneumonia.

Still, at some point President Harrison picked up an infectious agent that destroyed him -- all too easy for an elderly gentleman in the 19th century. But what about the inaugural speech itself? It is rarely quoted, perhaps for good reason. It's quite alien-sounding to modern ears.

For example, he freely made mention of ancient Rome to illustrate certain points, using the term Roman seven times during the course of the speech, beginning in the second paragraph:

"It was the remark of a Roman consul in an early period of that celebrated Republic that a most striking contrast was observable in the conduct of candidates for offices of power and trust before and after obtaining them, they seldom carrying out in the latter case the pledges and promises made in the former. However much the world may have improved in many respects in the lapse of upward of two thousand years since the remark was made by the virtuous and indignant Roman, I fear that a strict examination of the annals of some of the modern elective governments would develop similar instances of violated confidence..."

Later: "The boasted privilege of a Roman citizen was to him a shield only against a petty provincial ruler, whilst the proud democrat of Athens would console himself under a sentence of death for a supposed violation of the national faith — which no one understood and which at times was the subject of the mockery of all — or the banishment from his home, his family, and his country with or without an alleged cause, that it was the act not of a single tyrant or hated aristocracy, but of his assembled countrymen."

And then: "...The first Roman Emperor, in his attempt to seize the sacred treasure, silenced the opposition of the officer to whose charge it had been committed by a significant allusion to his sword. By a selection of political instruments for the care of the public money a reference to their commissions by a President would be quite as effectual an argument as that of Caesar to the Roman knight."

Harrison warned that, "Caesar became the master of the Roman people and the senate under the pretense of supporting the democratic claims of the former against the aristocracy of the latter; Cromwell, in the character of protector of the liberties of the people, became the dictator of England, and Bolivar possessed himself of unlimited power with the title of his country's liberator."

Toward the end, the president said: "It was the beautiful remark of a distinguished English writer that 'in the Roman Senate Octavius had a party and Anthony a party, but the Commonwealth had none.' Yet the Senate continued to meet in the temple of liberty to talk of the sacredness and beauty of the Commonwealth and gaze at the statues of the elder Brutus and of the Curtii and Decii, and the people assembled in the forum, not, as in the days of Camillus and the Scipios, to cast their free votes for annual magistrates or pass upon the acts of the senate, but to receive from the hands of the leaders of the respective parties their share of the spoils and to shout for one or the other, as those collected in Gaul or Egypt and the lesser Asia would furnish the larger dividend."

The Curse of Tecumseh

On the day after the Battle of Tippecanoe, November 8, 1811, Gov. William Henry Harrison and the men under his command burned Prophet's Town, the base from which the Indians had attacked the day before, inspired into action by their spiritual leader, Tenskwatawa ("The Prophet"). After losing the battle, the Indians had scattered, and the Prophet was discredited. Less than two years later, Harrison defeated the British and their Indian allies at the Battle of the Thames -- which resulted in the death of the Prophet's brother, Tecumseh.

Was that the end of it? Not if you put stock in a fanciful explanation for the deaths in office of the presidents who were elected in a year ending in zero from 1840 (starting with Harrison) to 1960 (John Kennedy). "Those who look to make sense of eerie coincidences have come up with an explanation to account for this string of deaths: an ancient Indian curse, supposedly administered by Tecumseh himself..." says Snopes in "The Curse of Tecumseh."

"Another version attributes the curse to Tenskwatawa... 'Harrison will die I tell you,' the Prophet reportedly said. 'And after him, every Great Chief chosen every 20 years thereafter will die. And when each one dies, let everyone remember the death of my people.' "

It turns out that there's no record of either Tenskwatawa or Tecumseh ever saying such a thing. In fact, the story has all the hallmarks of a retroactive invention, once people noticed that a number of zero-year presidents had died in office. Moreover, no zero-year president has died in office in almost 50 years, which would seem to argue for "eerie coincidence."

Battle of Tippecanoe Bicentennial

Today is the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Tippecanoe, which occurred in the Indiana Territory and pitted U.S. Army regulars, militia, and volunteers under the command of Gov. William Henry Harrison, who would briefly be Ninth President of the United States nearly 30 years later, against Indians following the leadership of Tenskwatawa, also known as the Prophet, brother of the famed Tecumseh.

"The white settlers of the Indiana Territory were disturbed by the increasing activities and power of Tecumseh's followers," notes the Tippecanoe County Historical Association. "In the late summer of 1811, the governor of the territory, Gen. William Henry Harrison, organized a small army of 1,000 men, hoping to destroy [Prophet's Town, which had been founded by Tecumseh and Tenskwatawa] while Tecumseh was on a southern recruitment drive. The regiment arrived on November 6, 1811, and upon meeting with representatives of the Prophet, it was mutually agreed that there would be no hostilities until a meeting could be held on the following day. Harrison's scouts then guided the troops to a suitable campsite on a wooded hill about a mile west of Prophet's Town.

"Upon arriving at the site, Harrison warned his men of the possible treachery of the Prophet. The troops were placed in a quadrangular formation; each man was to sleep fully clothed. Fires were lit to combat the cold, rainy night, and a large detail was assigned to sentinel the outposts.

"Although Tecumseh had warned his brother not to attack the white men until the confederation was strong and completely unified, the incensed Prophet lashed his men with fiery oratory. Claiming the white man's bullets could not harm them, the Prophet led his men near the army campsite. From a high rock ledge west of the camp, he gave an order to attack just before daybreak on the following day.

"The sentinels were ready, and the first gunshot was fired when the yells of the warriors were heard. Many of the men awoke to find the Indians upon them. Although only a handful of the soldiers had had previous battle experience, the army bloodily fought off the reckless, determined Indian attack. Two hours later, thirty-seven soldiers were dead, twenty-five others were to die of injuries, and over 126 were wounded. The Indian casualties were unknown, but their spirit was crushed. Angered by his deceit, the weary warriors stripped the Prophet of his power and threatened to kill him.

"The demoralized Indians left Prophet's Town, abandoning most of their food and belongings. When Harrison's men arrived at the village on November 8, they found only an elderly Indian woman, whom they left with a wounded chief found not far from the battlefield. After burning the town, the army began their painful return to Vincennes."

Tenskwatawa survived, finally dying in 1836, and never again enjoyed the kind of following he had in 1811. Tecumseh died in 1813 at the Battle of the Thames in Canada, an engagement in the War of 1812, fighting soldiers under the command of William Henry Harrison. Richard Mentor Johnson, Ninth Vice President of the United States, also participated in that battle.

The "Tweeting" Presidents

Created and posted by HerBunk Productions.

Interesting to watch, as morphs sometimes are, and to read to see how many of the quotes are familiar. Many are not.

For instance, the quote for William Henry Harrison, famed one-month president: "All the measures of the government are directed to the purpose of making the rich richer and the poor poorer." Which, however true it is, seems like an odd thing for a politician to admit.

A bit of investigation uncovers a longer (non-tweet) version of the line, which is, "I believe and I say it is true Democratic feeling, that all the measures of the government are directed to the purpose of making the rich richer and the poor poorer." It is from a speech Harrison made as president-elect in late 1840, having just defeated the Democratic incumbent, Martin Van Buren. It seems like Harrison was offering up some Whig criticism of the rival party, rather than ruminations on plutocracy.

Still, a fine list of pithy quotes. Watch especially for Nixon's.

April 4, 1841:William Henry Harrison Dies

"There's Taylor, there's Tyler, there's Fillmore and there's Hayes. There's William Henry Harrison, 'I died in thirty days!' "

-- "The Mediocre Presidents," a song on The Simpsons

But apparently it wasn't just a virus that did in the 9th President of the United States, William Henry Harrison. It's conceivable that he might have recovered from his illness had he been able to rest properly, which was the only really effective medicine available for his condition in the 1840s. The president didn't get the rest he needed, however.

"General Harrison was ... smothered by the most shameless swarm of fortune hunters the capital had seen since the coming of another Hero twelve years before [Jackson, 1829], wrote famed biographer Marquis James in Andrew Jackson: Portrait of a President (1937). "They filled every room [of the lower level of the White House] and defied eviction. The President opened a door, expecting to meet his Cabinet. The spoilsmen crushed about him. Soon the Executive's pockets were filled with their petitions, then his hat, then his arms; and thus he staggered upstairs to revive himself with 'stimulants.' "

As President Harrison's condition worsened, the best that medicine could offer was employed to restore him to health: "Blistering of the skin was a standard method to draw evil humors from the body," noted Edward B. MacMahon and Leonard Curry in Medical Cover-Ups in the White House (1987). "Given that the president was sick with pneumonia, the President's physicians tried blistering the right side of his chest. The President did not improve.

"Next, the doctors applied suction cups to the blistered skin to draw out the evil, elusive substance that weakened him. Then the doctors gave him ipecac to induce vomiting. They also gave him calomel and castor oil to purge his bowels. Then they administered sedative to the fast-weakening President in the form of opium and brandy. As a last resort, they tried Virginia snakeweed, a Seneca Indian remedy. Nothing worked."

William Henry Harrison died at early in the morning of April 4, 1841, a month after assuming office. He might not have done much as president, but his presidential fame was thus assured anyway.

February 9, 1773/1814:The Birthdays of William Henry Harrison and Samuel J. Tilden

Two sets of presidents share the same birthday: James K. Polk and Warren G. Harding on November 2 (1795 and 1865, respectively) and Andrew Johnson and Woodrow Wilson on December 29 (1808 and 1856, respectively). But for a twist of electoral fate in 1877, however, February 9 would have been another such shared-birthday: William Henry Harrison (1773) and Samuel J. Tilden (1814).

Though the presidency didn't really work out for either of these men -- one won the prize, then dropped dead, while the other had it stolen from him -- in terms of posthumous fame, they haven't done badly. They're fairly large footnote characters in American history for exactly those things, dying in office and being denied office.

But there's so much more. Harrison was instrumental in the settlement of the Northwest Territories, both as a military and political leader; and his campaign in 1840 anticipated much in modern US electoral politics. His party, the Whigs, "flooded the electorate with posters and badges extolling the virtues of their colorful, down-home 'log cabin and hard cider' candidate, the hero of Tippecanoe," notes the Harrison biography published by the Miller Center for Public Affairs at the University of Virginia. "In their image remaking of Harrison, the Whigs misrepresented him to the electorate. Harrison was actually from an established Virginia family, a learned student of classics, and a man who enjoyed luxurious living to the point that he was continually in debt. The Whigs' strategy worked. It became the first true use of political 'handling,' or public image-making, in an American presidential race."

As for Tilden, he didn't get to be the 19th president of the United States. (Or perhaps he could be referred to as the 19th* president.) But he did well in the rough-and-tumble of New York State politics in the Gilded Age. As corporation counsel for New York City and chairman of the New York State Democratic committee in 1871, "he seized the opportunity... to endeavor to fasten upon the principal city officials the crime, universally suspected, but of which there was no proof, of having corruptly embezzled to an enormous extent the moneys of the city," wrote John Biglow in the preface to Letters and Literary Memorials of Samuel J. Tilden (1909). "By a long and patient tracing of the multitude of accounts in different banks, he reached a series of results which, when compared, not only disclosed but conclusively demonstrated... the whole scheme of fraud."

Tilden played a large part, then, in the fall of Boss Tweed. Later, upon his death in 1886, Tilden also left part of his considerable fortune for the establishment of a library in New York City. Ultimately, in combination with two other libraries, it became the New York Public Library, one of the world's great libraries.