Marse Henry | Page 4

to a pitch of feeling which a life of activity in
very different walks and ways and a certain self-control I have been
always able to command would scarcely suffice to restrain.
The truth is that I retain the spiritual essentials I learned then and there.
I never had the young man's period of disbelief. There has never been a
time when if the Angel of Death had appeared upon the scene--no
matter how festal--I would not have knelt with adoration and welcome;
never a time on the battlefield or at sea when if the elements had
opened to swallow me I would not have gone down shouting!
Sectarianism in time yielded to universalism. Theology came to seem
to my mind more and more a weapon in the hands of Satan to embroil
and divide the churches. I found in the Sermon on the Mount leading
enough for my ethical guidance, in the life and death of the Man of
Galilee inspiration enough to fulfill my heart's desire; and though I
have read a great deal of modern inquiry--from Renan and Huxley
through Newman and Döllinger, embracing debates before, during and
after the English upheaval of the late fifties and the Ecumenical
Council of 1870, including the various raids upon the Westminster
Confession, especially the revision of the Bible, down to writers like
Frederic Harrison and Doctor Campbell--I have found nothing to shake

my childlike faith in the simple rescript of Christ and Him crucified.

III
From their admission into the Union, the States of Kentucky and
Tennessee have held a relation to the politics of the country somewhat
disproportioned to their population and wealth. As between the two
parties from the Jacksonian era to the War of Sections, each was
closely and hotly contested. If not the birthplace of what was called
"stump oratory," in them that picturesque form of party warfare
flourished most and lasted longest. The "barbecue" was at once a rustic
feast and a forum of political debate. Especially notable was the
presidential campaign of 1840, the year of my birth, "Tippecanoe and
Tyler," for the Whig slogan--"Old Hickory" and "the battle of New
Orleans," the Democratic rallying cry--Jackson and Clay, the adored
party chieftains.
I grew up in the one State, and have passed the rest of my life in the
other, cherishing for both a deep affection, and, maybe, over-estimating
their hold upon the public interest. Excepting General Jackson, who
was a fighter and not a talker, their public men, with Henry Clay and
Felix Grundy in the lead, were "stump orators." He who could not
relate and impersonate an anecdote to illustrate and clinch his argument,
nor "make the welkin ring" with the clarion tones of his voice, was
politically good for nothing. James K. Polk and James C. Jones led the
van of stump orators in Tennessee, Ben Hardin, John J. Crittenden and
John C. Breckenridge in Kentucky. Tradition still has stories to tell of
their exploits and prowess, their wit and eloquence, even their
commonplace sayings and doings. They were marked men who never
failed to captivate their audiences. The system of stump oratory had
many advantages as a public force and was both edifying and
educational. There were a few conspicuous writers for the press, such
as Ritchie, Greeley and Prentice. But the day of personal journalism
and newspaper influence came later.
I was born at Washington--February 16, 1840--"a bad year for

Democrats," as my father used to say, adding: "I am afraid the boy will
grow up to be a Whig."
In those primitive days there were only Whigs and Democrats. Men
took their politics, as their liquor, "straight"; and this father of mine
was an undoubting Democrat of the schools of Jefferson and Jackson.
He had succeeded James K. Polk in Congress when the future President
was elected governor of Tennessee; though when nominated he was
little beyond the age required to qualify as a member of the House.
To the end of his long life he appeared to me the embodiment of
wisdom, integrity and couarge. And so he was--a man of tremendous
force of character, yet of surpassing sweetness of disposition;
singularly disdainful of office, and indeed of preferment of every sort; a
profuse maker and a prodigal spender of money; who, his needs and
recognition assured, cared nothing at all for what he regarded as the
costly glories of the little great men who rattled round in places often
much too big for them.
Immediately succeeding Mr. Polk, and such a youth in appearance, he
attracted instant attention. His father, my grandfather, allowed him a
larger income than was good for him--seeing that the per diem then
paid Congressmen was altogethr insufficient--and during the earlier
days of his sojourn in the national capital he cut a