USA > Georgia > Georgia's landmarks, memorials and legends, Volume I > Part 18
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But this bust of the poet, though a work of art, is not an adequate memorial to the great Lanier. Something better is expected of his home town. Something more pretentious is needed-a fountain in one of the parks or a statute on one of the central thoroughfares of trade- to attest the pride in which Macon cherishes the memory of her bay-crowned child of genius. It was here that he romped in boyhood-here that he found his bride-here that the earliest inspirations of his muse were caught and here that, in the latest moments of life, the tendrils of his love still twined. Recently the History Club of Macon has launched a movement to erect in the poet's native city a monument worthy of his fame: and the following representative ladies constitute the memorial committee : Mrs. Edwin S. Davis, chairman; Mrs. James Callaway, Jr., vice-chairman ; Mrs. I. H. Adams, Mrs. E. W. Gould, Mrs. P. H. Gambrell, Mrs. George E. Hatcher, Mrs. Wal- ter Houser, Mrs. D. R. Malone, Miss Erin O'Neal, Mrs.
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Alexander Proudfit, Mrs. E. R. Stamps, and Mrs. Andrew W. Lane, ex-officio. These ladies intend to leave no stone unturned until a monument to Sidney Lanier is built in Macon. They will also no doubt place a tribute of some kind over his unmarked grave in Green Mount Cemetery, in Baltimore. At present the last resting place of the poet is covered with a mass of ivy, not an inappropriate emblem for the couch of one whose songs are immortal, nor altogether out of keeping with the manner in which he bowed farewell when among the mountain pines of Western North Carolina, an invalid no longer, "he soared away, singing 'Sunrise.' "
Major Charles W. Hubner gives us the following sym- pathetic pen-picture of the lamented singer. Says he :* "In person, Lanier was the ideal poet. Tall and slender, graceful in his movements, dignified yet gentle in his demeanor. His features were expressive and classic in outline, his eyes were clear, large, and soulful, his voice was soft and musical, and his presence attracted atten- tion at once and proclaimed him to be a man far above the common standard." To this description it may be added that, later in life, he wore a beard of silken texture, which reached quite to his waist. Major Hubner also narrates the following incident : "The first time I had the pleasure of meeting Lanier was in Atlanta and I was introduced to him by a mutual friend. He had stopped for the day in this city while on his way to Macon from San Antonio, where he had spent a few months for his health. There was an entertainment to be given in one of the public halls on the evening of his arrival and he had been invited to take part in the pro- gram. Together we left the hotel and walked to the hall. He was introduced to the audience and played in his
*Representative Southern Poets, pp. 15-55, New York and Washington, 1906.
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usual masterly manner several beautiful airs on his flute. The audience was thrilled by the sweetness of his playing, and, in response to an insistent encore, he played the familiar air of "Home, Sweet Home," with lovely variations of his own composition. When the entertain- ment was over we returned to the hotel. He invited me to his room, where, after discussing art in general, we drifted into metaphysics. I was amazed at his familiar- ity with the writings of the great thinkers of Germany, whose works he had studied with all the ardor of his intensely warm and imaginative nature. He gave full play to his splendid faculties, and, like the Theban eagle, he touched the crests of the loftiest heights of philosophic thought. We took no note of time, so profoundly absorbed were we in the discussion, and it was past three o'clock in the morning when we reluctantly parted. It was an ambrosial night, the recollection of which, coupled with the melodious voice and the spirituelle face of him who long ago has joined the 'choir invisible,' lingers inefface- ably in my mind and in my heart."
Sidney Lanier was born at Macon, Ga., February 3, 1842 and died near Tryon, N. C., September 7, 1881. Enfeehled by long suffering he decided to test the salu- tary effect of camp life ; and in the far-famed Land of the Sky he pitched his tent under the mountain pines. But he failed to find the elusive elixir. One of his most ex- quisite poems was dedicated to his devoted wife whose steadfast loyalty never once failed him through the hours of darkness. The poem is entitled: "My Springs." His last production was "Sunrise," a prophetic apostrophe to the morning whose dews were already glistening upon his brow. It is characteristic of the strong mentality of the noted household from which the poet sprang that much of his genius was shared by his gifted brother, Clifford Lanier, who also takes high rank among the sweet singers of the South. But his poems lack the
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creative power and the wonderful imaginative sweep which belong to those of the former. Richard LeGal- lienne, the noted French critic, has paid unstinted tribute to Lanier's genius, while the London Times has adjudged him "the greatest master of melody among the American poets."
But the analytical mind of Chancellor Hill has given us the keenest appreciation of his gifts; and some of the brilliant fragments of the address delivered by the Chan- cellor at the unveiling are herewith reproduced. Says he : "Sidney Lanier sings the psalm of his own life in the 'Song of the Chattahoochee.' Manifold hindrances up- rose at every step to deflect or bar his course, set toward poetry as the mountain brook was set toward the sea. He is the type, in a nineteenth century way, of the union of musical and poetic functions in the old time bard or minstrel. He is the poet of a passionate purity, belong- ing to the White Cross movement of a later time-the knightly order of Sir Gallahads. In an age of material- ism he has sung the finer things of the spirit. He has enriched poetry with the revelation of aspects of nature hitherto unsung. He was the first to gather his inspira- tion from marshes and from fields of corn. Wherever he went-Tampa, Brunswick, Chester-he carried starry stuff about his wings and enriched his temporary home with the pollen of his songs. The 'peddler bee,' the 'gospeling gloom of live-oaks,' the 'marsh plants thirsty- cupped for rain,' the 'myriad-prayer' of leaves, 'with palms upturned in air,' the mocking-bird, 'trim Shakes- peare of the tree' who 'summed the woods in song'-these are but a few of the rare felicities of phrase which glow throughout the little green volume of poems. The story of his life is a heritage for all time; and in words which I quote from Chief-Justice Bleckley, himself a poet : 'His fame which is now a mere germ may one day grow to be a tall cedar in the poetic Lebanon.' "*
*Reminiscences of Famous Georgians, by L. L. Knight, Vol. I, p. 712, Atlanta, 1907.
CHAPTER LIV
Rome Pioneers the Way in Honoring the Women of the Confederacy
O N the main business thoroughfare of the city of Rome there stands a monument of the most unique historic interest. It embodies a sentiment peculiar to the South; and, though other commun- ities have since followed the chivalrous example set by the patriotic citizens of Rome, the credit of having been the first city in the land to erect a monument to the women of the Confederacy belongs to this beautiful metropolis of the hills .* The shaft was unveiled on June 3, 1910, the birthday of President Jefferson Davis. It rests upon a monolith of Georgia marble, ten feet square by four feet thick, the largest solid block ever quarried at Tate. From the center of this stone rises the hand- some shaft, on either side of which is a group of figures, the work of sculptor J. Wolz, of Savannah. One scene depicts the reception of news from the front: a mother reading to her child a letter in which the sad story is told of the father's heroic death in battle. The other group portrays a woman in the act of ministering to a wounded soldier. There are two inscriptions on the monument. One is from the pen of the present Chief Executive of
*At Fort Mill, S. C., there is a small monument which, on the authority of Mrs. J. B. Mack, of this place, was unveiled several years prior to the one at Rome. Mrs. Mack is the widow of the famous Presbyterian Evan- gelist, Dr. J. B. Mack,
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the nation, Dr. Woodrow Wilson, who married a daughter of Rome. This inscription reads :
"To the Women of the Confederacy, whose fidelity, whose purity, whose courage, whose gentle genius in love and in counsel, kept the home secure, the family a school of virtue, the State a court of honor; who made of war a season of heroism and of peace a time of healing; the guardians of our tranquility and of our strength."
On the opposite side of the monument is the following inscription, from the pen of Rev. G. A. Nunnally, D. D., formerly President of Mercer University, at Macon.
"To the woman of the Confederacy: She was obedient to the God she adored and faithful to every vow she made to man. She was loyal to the country she so well loved, and upon its altar laid husband, sire, and son. The home she loved to serve was graced with sincerity of life and devotion of heart. She reared her sons to unselfish chivalry and her daughters to spotless purity. Her children delight to give her honor and love to speak her praise."
It was at a meeting of Floyd Camp No. 469 of the United Sons of Confederate Veterans, during the Spring of 1909 that the movement to erect a monument to the women of the Confederacy was first projected. The idea proved to be inspirational. It fired the most intense enthusiasm, and there was not a man present who was not thrilled and electrified. Fifteen members of the camp guaranteed the necessary amount, which was $4,500. In less than one month the contract was awarded; and be- fore the completion of another year the monument was unveiled. Mr. C. C. Harper was the commander of the camp during the first part of the campaign. Mr. P. M.
FIRST MONUMENT TO THE WOMEN OF THE CONFEDERACY, ON BROAD STREET, IN THE CITY OF ROME.
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Nixon succeeded him, with Mr. G. E. Maddox, as adju- tant. It is needless to say that the people of Rome responded to the appeal of patriotism made by these young men. They were captivated with the idea of being the first city in the South to do honor to the women of the Confederacy; and such was the tidal wave of enthu- siasm upon which the movement was launched that every element of the city's population was only too eager to take part in raising the funds.
General Clement A. Evans, the commander-in-chief of the United Confederate Veterans, was prevented by what proved to be the old hero's last illness from attend- ing the exercises of unveiling on June 10, 1910; but he. was represented on this occasion by Hon. Lucius L. Middlebrooks, of Covington, a prominent member of the organization and a gallant soldier. The address of the occasion-a gem of rare eloquence-was delivered by Judge Moses Wright, of Rome. On behalf of the city, Mayor T. W. Lipscomb accepted the monument in a neat speech. Hon. S. A. Cunningham, of Nashville, editor of the Confederate Veteran, and Dr. G. A. Nunnally, of Rome, were also upon the program for short addresses; while a poem by Major Chas. W. Hubner, of Atlanta, was a feature of the impressive ceremonies. Mr. P. M. Nixon, commander of the local camp of the Sons of Veterans, drew the veil; and as the sunbeams fell upon the finished work of the artist there arose from the vast assemblage the most tumultuous outburst.
The monument stands at the corner of Broad and Third Streets in the pulsing heart of the busy town.
Here where the multitudes gather, it suggests not only the part which the women of the Confederacy played in the bloody drama of war but bespeaks also the chival- rous attitude toward them of the young men of Rome who have ever given to the fair sex the knightliest allegi- ance of honor.
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It was the distinguished Chauncey M. Depew, of New York, who observed that the Civil War in America fur- nished no counterpart to the Southern woman. Exposed to the perils of invasion, in an area of country over- run by the Northern armies, it was her lot to keep sleepless vigil at countless firesides, where neither the comradeship of the camp nor the music of the drum could cheer her in hours of loneliness. The historian has ren- dered due credit to the boys in gray who-half-clad and half-fed-battled through four long years against the world in arms. But the heroic women of the South who were the constant inspiration of Lee's men at the front have not fared so well.
What they suffered and sacrificed has never been cast into cold type.
But the world has never witnessed greater fortitude or greater faith.
It is due to the Confederate woman that throughout the South today there are thousands of monuments to the Confederate soldier. She has been the devoted priestess at the shrine of his ashes-the jealous guardian and protector of his fame; and she has been too busy thinking of him to bestow any thought upon herself. But it will henceforth be the pride of the Sons of Veterans to remem- ber the heroic War-Queen of Dixie; and to the young men of Rome-the banner-bearers in this new crusade of chivalry-must be awarded the premier honors.
We cannot resist the temptation to quote from the address of Judge Wright the following paragraph. Said he: "This favored city, Mr. Mayor, will never know an hour in all her history comparable to this hour when she unveils to the world the first monument to the mothers of men. May it stand forever, the highest expression of the love of the Sons of Veterans and of the old heroes of the grey. May it stand forever. It could never stand firmer
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in storm driven hours than the Daughters of the Confed- eracy stood during the war's wild years of the sixties. May it stand forever. But no day will ever bend above it with blue skies clearer and purer than the spirit en- shrined therein. May it stand forever. But no night will ever bend above it where clustered stars will glorify the gloom more beautifully, more divinely, than have the virtues of the Daughters of the South glorified all the nights of our grief and softened all the years of our sorrow."
CHAPTER LV
The Mark Hanna Home: Where the Mckinley Presi- dential Boom Was Launched
S IXTEEN years have elapsed since the political wheel of fortune rotated William McKinley into the White House in Washington; but the world has not forgotten the meteoric campaign of 1896. It was an epoch-making fight. The tall figure of the peerless Nebraskan in this heated contest began to loom for the first time across the western plains. His conquest of the Chicago convention was the wonder of modern politics. Nothing to equal the dramatic effect of his marvelous Cross of Gold speech has ever been known in the history of conventions. To this very day there are Democrats in every part of the Union who look upon Bryan as a mere dreamer, who deplore the great scenic battle which he waged for free silver, at the famous ratio of sixteen to one, who call him an apostle of discontent, and who belittle his splendid abilities. But the fact remains that he was the herald of a new era in national politics. Nor can it be gainsaid that the campaign of 1896 was the cradle of the present-day progressive movement. Mr. Bryan's eloquence lashed the masses into a frenzy of enthusiasm. The spell of his personality was felt in the crowded centers of population and in the sparsely settled rural districts. The money-power was panic stricken with alarm. Wall Street stood aghast. The program of the Republican organization seemed to be queered. And altogether it is doubtful if there has ever been a cam-
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paign in which the rattle of coin has played a more spectacular part; but despite the combined activities of the trusts to defeat him Bryan might still have been elected President of the United States had it not been for the shrewd generalship of a man to whom the country at large still needed an introduction when the campaign opened but whose name was destined to become a house- hold word in every hamlet-Marcus A. Hanna.
On North Dawson street in the city of Thomasville stands the historic winter home, in which, according to every sign of the zodiac, were laid the plans, the outcome of which was Mr. Bryan's undoing. It seems a triffle singular that the State which put Mr. Bryan in nomina- tion at Chicago, under circumstances which no one can ever forget, should furnish an asylum to his most in- veterate enemies, wherein they might intrigue to compass his defeat. But while this little by-play of politics was in Georgia it was not of Georgia. It came from a source entirely outside and remote. Mr. Hanna was a practical business man of large wealth whose business operations ramified the whole State of Ohio and brought him rich returns from commercial traffic on the Great Lakes. He was also something of a slate-maker in Buck-eye politics. For years, Mr. Hanna had been an intimate personal friend to Major Mckinley, a creditor, so it is said, for certain large sums of money, which the latter had bor- rowed from him, without compromise of honor; and it was due almost solely to the adroit manipulation of this masterful strategist that the nomination of Major Mc- Kinley-then Governor of Ohio-was accomplished at St. Louis. The next move on the political chess-board was the reciprocal act of the nominee in choosing his campaign manager; and finally to end the game, there was to be a seat for Mr. Hanna in the President's Cabinet; or, what he most desired-the coveted toga. Worthy the
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brain of a Richelieu was this brilliant stategy of the Ohio coal baron.
Without going into details, it is the commonly accepted belief that the whole plan of campaign which resulted in putting Governor Mckinley into the White House, was concocted in the town of Thomasville, among the fragrant pines of the Georgia lowlands. During Mr. Hanna's occupancy of the North Dawson Street mansion, in the winter of 1895-6, Mr. Mckinley was an honored guest of the Hannas; and thither also flocked other members of the Grand Old Party whose love for the game of politics was not only well-known but notorious. As pre-arranged, the nomination of Mr. Mckinley took place in June and his election to the Presidency followed in November. For a time the issue hung in suspense. The Nebraskan's fiery eloquence threatened to upset the plans of Mr. Hanna. It was furthermore discovered, after the nomination was made, that it took place on the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo, a coincidence which viewed in connection with the nominee's marked facial resemblance to Napoleon, caused some forebodings in the Republican ranks. But if there was any virtue in the omen, it only served to bring him Wellington's luck. Mr. Hanna was the best adver- tised man in the country, while the campaign lasted, due chiefly to the famous cartoons of Homer Davenport, in which some of his physical peculiarities were most amus- ingly caricatured and he was made to vaunt himself in clothes bespangled with the omnipresent dollar-mark. Meeting the artist one day when the fight was over, Mr. Hanna said to him :
"Davenport, I admire your execution, but hang your conception."
It was under the terms of a lease from the owners that Mr. Hanna occupied the North Dawson street man- sion during the winter which preceded Mr. Mckinley's election. The house was leased in the following year to
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Judge Lynde Harrison, one of the executors of H. B. Plant, the founder of the Plant system of railroads. Since then the historie place of abode has remained un- occupied. It is owned by the estate of the late John W. Masury, of New York, a formerly well-known manufac- turer of paints. By reason of the fact that the building is supposed to have played a stellar part in the eventful campaign of 1896, it has become the most conspicuous land-mark in Thomasville: an object of very great inter- est to sight-seers and of no small local pride to the inhabitants of the town. Some of the statements herein made may be purely conjectural; but sifting the chaff from the wheat it still remains that Mr. Hanna leased the Thomasville home for the winter season preceding Mr. MeKinley's nomination ; that he here played the host not only to Mr. Mckinley himself but to some of the big political king-bees of the Republican party who came here to buzz; and that when the election was over he quietly stepped from a business office on the lake front, in the city of Cleveland, Ohio, to a seat of historic renown in the American House of Peers.
CHAPTER LVI
Mount Berry: How the Sunday Lady Won the Mountains
O N the eve of Constantine's great victory, near Rome, Italy, he saw suspended in the sky a cross. The dream only amused his followers. But the triumph which he gained over the Roman legions, on the day succeeding, gave Christianity to Caesar's vast empire. The taunt of Joseph's brethren has been re- peated many times : "Behold this dreamer !" But there came a sequel to the scene at Dothan when Joseph sat upon Pharaoh's throne; and he was then able, in a time of need, to fill the sacks of his incredulous brethren from the rich granaries of the land of Egypt. Thus it is that an age wedded to material things is slow to compute the value of a vision. On the outskirts of Rome, Ga., in the summer of 1900, a gentle daughter of the Southland began to dream. Out of the low area of flat-woods which lay in front of her home, on the Summerville road, there arose in her mind's eye the beetling towers of a great school of learning; but to no one else was the sight revealed at this time except to Martha Berry. It was not to be a school for the indulged off-spring of wealthy parents who lived in cities. On the contrary, it was to be a school for country-reared boys and girls, to whom the fruit of the tree of knowledge was elsewhere denied. Its special purpose was to meet the needs of children who lived in the sparsely-settled folds of the great mountain ranges.
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The dwellers in these isolated parts are too widely scattered to afford the luxury of schools. Few of them know what an education means, for they are ignorant of the barest English rudiments. The Bible is sometimes found among them but usually the nearest approach to a library is the current almanac. They live in rudely built log cabins, surrounded by sterile patches of washed land and perched in the most whimsical fashion upon the steep declivities. Neighborhoods do not exist in the mountains, at least in the ordinary sense of this term; and taxation, even for the purpose of dispelling ignorance from the mountaineer's humble hearthstone spells extortion to men whose little parcels of ground on the flinty hill-sides yield at best only a pitiful harvest. Often the paltry sum of $50 in cash is the utmost which one of these simple men of the back-woods ever sees from year to year. In the rainy season the mountain roads are proverbially bad, and, for weeks at a time, there exist the conditions of an effectual blockade. So there are good reasons why the public school system has never taken root in the hills. But the soul-hunger of this vast uncultivated region is most intense and the opportunity of doing here a noble work for humanity is limitless.
The Southern mountaineers come of proud stock. They cannot be treated as mendicants. They are red- blooded Anglo-Saxons; in the main liberty-loving, law- abiding, God-fearing men. There is no foreign ad- mixture in the veins of this sturdy race of giants, some of whom inherit the traditions of gentleness from the most ancient sources. They boast no tables of descent. But they bear names some of which suggest feudal manors and family crests ; and, behind tanned and rugged faces, in strongly defined lineaments of character, they exhibit the hall-marks of noble ancestral seats. They repel as an insult any proffer of help for which they can give no fair equivalent. Charity is a word unknown to
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the lexicon of the mountaineer; and he is more inde- pendent on a crust of bread than many a gloved princeling is with a dukedom. Some of them-perhaps most of them-are diamonds in the rough. They only need the lapidary's art to polish them into jewels, fit for any setting. The problem which this little woman undertook to solve by an educational experiment was how to make this reserve strength effective. At the foot of Mount Lavender she unfurled her crusader's flag. It was a modest beginning. There were few to follow her at the start but she went forth in the might of a brave spirit, resolved to rescue this walled citadel of the back- woodsmen from the grasp of ignorance ;- in a word, to win the mountains.
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