Glass_ Book > ^ 3 No. I. Ten Cents. Per Year, One Dollar. r;?53^ »outbern XKHiiter0. Biographical and Critical Studies. Joel CbanMev Ibarris. JBis muuam flbalone Sasftecvill, ' 'v f a mm JULY, iaOG. Barbee & Smith, Agents, NastLVillG, Tenn, rsie/3 SOUTHERN WRITERS SERIES. In a series of twelve papers the writer proposes to give a tolerably complete survey of that literary movement which, beginning about 1S70, has spread over the entire South. Since that time Southern writers have been conspicuous among the chief con- tributors to the nation's literature. There will be no attempt to place a final estimate upon this con- tribution, though some critical opinions will now and then be offered. The effort will be rather to present biographical daia and literary apprecia- tions — to stimulate the desire for a more intimate acquaintance with this literature which is so fresh, original, and racy of the soil. The series will ap- pear as follows: No. I. Joel Chandler Harris. '" No. 2. Maurice Thompson. V No. 3. Sidney Lanier. ., No. 4. Irwin Russell. No. 5. Mrs. Margaret J. Preston. V No. 6. George Washington Cable. - No.' 7. Charles Egbert Craddock. No. 8. Richard Malcolm Johnston. No. 9. Thomas Nelsou Page. No. 10. James Lane Allen. No. n. Miss Grace King. ^^ No. 12. Samuel Minturn Peck. ^ These writers may not unfairly be considered typical and representative of the best that has been produced in this new era. Southern Writers: Published Monthly. Subscription price, $1 a year. Single copies, 10 cents, postage paid. Send orders for the whole series or for separate numbers to BARBEE & SMITH, Agents, NaslivillG, Texua. Copyright, 1896. 3oeI CbanMer Ibarris* I? MIDDLE GEORGIA is the birthplace and home of the raciest and most original kind of Southern humor. In this quarter native material was earliest recognized and first made use of. A school of writers arose who looked out of their eyes, and listened with their ears, who took frank interest in things for their own sake, and had enduring astonishment at the most common. They seized the warm and palpitating facts of everyday existence, and gave them to the world with all the accompaniments of quaint dialect, original humor, and Southern plantation life. The Middle Georgians are a simple, healthy, homogeneous folk, resem- bling for the most part other South- erners of like rank and calling in their manners, customs, and general 5oel CbanMcr Ibarris. way of living. But they have de- veloped a certain manly, vigorous, fearless independence of thought and action, and an ever increasing propensity to take a humorous view of life. In their earlier writings it is a homely wit, in which broad hu- mor and loud laughter predominate ; but tears are lurking in the corners of the eyes, and genuine sentiment nestles in the heart. In more re- cent times the horizon has widened, and there has been a gain in both breadth of view and depth of in- sight. Genius and art have com- bined to make this classic soil. It is a small section of country, comprising only a few counties, but with them are indelibly associated the names of A. B. Longstreet, W. T. Thompson, J. J. Hooper, Francis O. Ticknor, Richard Malcolm John- ston, Harry Stillwell Edwards, Sid- ney Lanier, Maurice Thompson, Joel Chandler Harris, and many other less known writers. If we turn to their characters and scenes, the associa- 2 5oel CbanMer Ibards. tion is still more intimate. Ransy Sniffle and Ned Brace belong to Baldwin, the scene of " The Fight," " The Gander Pulling," and " The Militia Drill." In the woods and along the river banks of the same county " The Two Runaways " were wont at a later day to enjoy their annual escapade. " Simon Suggs " was a native of Jasper ; " Major Jones's Courtship " took place in Morgan; "Mr. Absalom Billingslea and Other Georgia Folk" are at home in Hancock; but to Putnam County was awarded the honor of giving birth to " Uncle Remus," a veritable Ethiopian ^^sop, philosopher, and gentleman, and to the " Little Boy," whose inexhaustible curiosity and eager- ness to hear a " story " have called forth the most valuable and, in the writer's opinion, the most perma- nent contribution to American lit- erature in the last quarter of this century. This school of humorists are not 3 5oel CbanMer Ibarris. realists at all in the modern sense ; for nothing is farther from their writings than sadness, morbidness, and pessimism. Naturalism is the term by which their literary method may best be characterized. They look frankly and hearken attentive- ly, following, at a great distance it may be, Fielding's and the great master's plan of holding the mirror up to nature. But coloring, tone, and substance have been reproduced with such absolute fidelity because the heart is full of hope, the eye bright, and a smile ever playing around the mouth. It is also easy to see that they are to the manner born. " To be sure," says Judge Longstreet, "in writing the * Georgia Scenes ' I have not con- fined myself to strictly veracious historic detail ; but there is scarcely one word from the beginning to the end of the book that is not strictly Georgian. The scenes which I describe — as, for instance, 'The Gander Pulling' — occurred at 4 5oel CbanDler Ibarris, the very place where I locate them." Shortly after the appearance of '' The Adventures of Capt. Simon Suggs," a friend met the original on the streets of Monticello and said : " Squire Suggs, do you re- member Jonce Hooper — little Jonce? " "Seems to me I do," replied Mr. Suggs. " Well, Squire, little Jonce has gone and noveled you." Mr. Suggs looked serious. " Gone and noveled me? " he ex- claimed. " Well, I'll be danged ! Gone and noveled me? What could 'a possessed him?" Since the Civil War the " noveling " process has gone on with enlarged sympathies and greater success. A nev^ figure has been added to the picture, making it more complete — the negro. With the wider view has also come greater freedom of treatment, and no writers in the South have appreciated this mental and artistic liberty more than the Georgians. Each of them has, by means of the simplicity, humor, and 5 3^oel CbanMer 1barn0. individuality which characterize the school, made a distinct contribution to the sum of human interest and enjoyment. ^ But the most sympa- thetic, the most original, the truest delineator of this larger life — its manners, customs, amusements, dialect, folklore, humor, pathos, and character — is Joel Chandler Harris. His birthplace was Eatonton, the capital of Putnam County, in Middle Georgia, and the date of his birth December 9, 1848. Slight bio- grapical and personal sketches of him have appeared in the Ci'itic^ in Literatui-e^ and in the Book Buyer^ but the best account of his early life is to be found in " On the Plantation," one of the most inter- esting books that Mr. Harris has written. In this deUghtful volume it is not easy to tell " where confes- sion ends and how far fiction em- broiders truth." But the author has kindly left it to the reader to "sift the fact from the fiction, and label it to suit himself." x\s has been 6 5oel CbanOlec Ibarrla. said of another romancer, it is not through the accidental circumstan- ces of his Hfe that he belongs to history, but through his talent ; and his talent is in his books. Our first glimpse of Mr. Harris is in the lit- tle post ofiice of Eatonton, which is also a " country store," and much frequented for both purposes. He is sitting upon a rickety, old, faded green sofa, in a corner of which he used to curl up nearly every day, reading such stray new^spapers as he could lay his hands on, and watching the people come and go. His look betrays shyness and sensi- tiveness, though it is full of obser- vation. He is reading in a Mil- ledgeville paper the announcement of a Mr. Turner, whose acquaint- ance he has recently made, that he will begin the 2^ublication the fol- lowing Tuesday of a weekly news- paper, to be called the Countiy- man. It is to be modeled after Mr. Addison's little paper, the Specta- tor^ Mr. Goldsmith's little paper, 7 S^oel CbanDlcc Ibarcis. the Bee^ and Mr. Johnson's little paper, the Rambler. He has heard of these, for he has had a few terms in the Eatonton Acade- my, and read some of the best books of the eighteenth century. When the " Vicar of Wakefield " is men- tioned his eye sparkles, for since he was six years of age that wonderful story has been a stimulus to his imagination, and made him eager to read all books. He is proud of his acquaintance with a real editor, and waits with great impatience for the first issue of the Countryman. In the meanwhile we learn that he can- not be called a studious lad, or at any rate that he is not at all fond of the books in his desk at the Eaton- ton Academy. On the contrary, he is of an adventurous turn of mind, full of all sorts of pranks and capers ; and plenty of people in the little town are ready to declare that he will come to some bad end if he is not more frequently dosed with what the old folks call "hickory 8 ^ocl CbanMer Ibatrfs* oil." But he has a strange sympa- thy with animals of all kinds, es- pecially horses and dogs, and a deeper, tenderer sympathy with all human beings. At last the first issue arrives, and is read from beginning to end — ad- vertisements and all. The most im- portant thing in it, as it turned out, was the announcement that the edi- tor wanted a boy to learn the print- ing business. The friendly post- master furnished pen, ink, and paper, and the lad applied for the place and got it. Mr. Turner lived about nine miles from Eatonton, on a plantation of some two thousand acres, which was well supplied with slaves, horses, dogs, and game of different kinds. He was a lover of books, and had a choice collection of two or three thousand volumes. His wealth also enabled him to con- duct the only country newspaper in the world, which he did so success- fully that it reached a circulation of nearly two thousand copies. On 1* 9 5ocl CbanMer Ibarris. the plantation was a pack of well- trained harriers, with which the lit- tle printer hunted rabbits, and a fine hound or two of the Birdsong breed, with which he chased the red fox. With the negroes he learned to hunt coons, and possums, and from them he heard those stories which have since placed their nar- rator in the list of the immortals. The printing office sat deep in a large grove of oaks, full of gray squirrels which kept the solitary typesetter company, running about over the roofs and playing "hide and seek " like children. From his window he watched the partridge and her mate build their artful nest, observed their coquetries, and from her mysteriously skillful manner of drawing one away from her nest or her young he learned one of his earliest and most puzzling lessons in bird craft. The noisy jay, the hammering woodpecker, and the vivacious and tuneful mocking bird lent their accompaniment to the 10 5oel CbanMer fbarris* clicking of the types. At twelve years of age, then, Mr. Harris found himself in this ideal situation for the richest and most healthful development of his talents. Type- setting came easy, and the lad had the dogs to himself in the late after- noon and the books at night, and he made the most of both. The schol- arly planter turned him loose to brov^se at will in his library, only now and then giving a judicious hint. The great Elizabethans first caught his fancy, and quaint old meditative and poetical Sir Thomas Browne became one of his prime favorites, a place he yet holds. He made many friends among the standard authors that only a boy of a peculiar turn of mind would take to his bosom. But no book at any time has ever usurped the place of the inimitable " Vicar of Wake- field " in his affections — Goethe's, Scott's, Irving's, Thackeray's, all humanity's adorable Vicar. Mr. Harris, like Sir Walter, has read it . 11 S^oel dbanOlcr 1bacti6. in youth and in age, and the charm endures. In a recent paper he wrote ; " The first book that ever attracted my attention, and the one that has held it longest, was and is the 'Vicar of Wakefield.' The only way to describe my experience with that book is to acknowledge that I am a crank. It touches me more deeply, it gives me the ' all- overs ' more severely than all others. Its simplicity, its air of extreme wonderment, have touched and con- tinue to touch me deeply." These two favorites have since that early period found worthy rivals in the Bible and Shakespeare, and he is specially serious when he talks of his heroes, Lee, Jackson, and Lin- coln. Job, Ecclesiastes, and Paul's writings are his prime favorites ; but all good books interest him more or less, though at the present time an ardent young writer on a pilgrimage to this shrine would per- haps find Mr. Harris's library as scantly supplied as Mr. Howells 12 Joel CbanMer Ibarrfs, found Hawthorne's. There are only a few books, but they are the best, and they have been read and reread. Emerson, however, is not of this number ; his " queer self- consciousness " and attitude of self- sufficiency have never appealed to him in any winning way. " You cannot expect an uncultured Georgia cracker to follow patiently the con- volute diagrams of the oversoul," he will say ; adding, with a quizzic- al smile : " You see I am perfectly frank in this, presenting the appear- ance of feeling as proud of my lack of taste and culture as a little girl is of her rag doll." But when culture and individuality are united, as he found them in Lowell, they receive his frankest admiration. " Culture is a very fine thing, indeed," he wrote of Mr. Lowell on his seven- tieth birthday, "but it is never of much account, either in life or in literature, unless it is used as a cat uses a mouse, as a source of mirth and luxury. It is at its finest in 13 5oel CbanMer Ibarrls, this country when it is grafted on the sturdiness that has made the na- tion what it is, and when it is forti- fied by the strong common sense that has developed and preserved the repubHc. This is culture with a definite aim and purpose, . . . and we feel the ardent spirit of it in pretty much everything Mr. Lowell has written." As for the realists, he admires " immensely " what is best in them, though he has no fondness for minute psychological analysis. He likes a story and " human nature, humble, fascina- ting, plain, common human nature." "A man is known by the company he keeps," is a saying with a wider application, I fancy, than is com- ly given to it. I had a friend once — a strong, earnest, meditative, silent man — over the mantel in whose study hung a portrait of William CuUen Bryant. The kinship of na- ture could easily be traced between these two and that great American of whom Bryant wrote : 14 5oel CbanOler Ibarrfe. The wildest storm that sweeps through space, And rends the oak with sudden force, Can raise no ripple on his face, Or slacken his majestic course. I could easily imagine my friend in the heart of some primeval forest — he had a deep and reverent love of nature — repeating his favorite lines : Be it ours to meditate, In these calm shades, thy milder majesty, And to the beautiful order of thy works Learn to conform the order of our lives. And so, consciously or unconscious- ly, Mr. Harris has imbibed old- fashioned ways of simplicity, nat- uralness, and truth from his Shakes- peare and Bible ; has had ingrained in the fiber of his being the gentle- ness, delicacy, and purity of feeling which distinguish the good Vicar's author, and has conformed his life to that sentiment of Sir Thomas Browne's which "The Autocrat" considered the most admirable in any literature : " Every man truly lives so long as he acts his nature 15 5oel CbanDlec Ibarris, or some way makes good the facul- ties of himself." Among these books he lived for several years, and almost before he knew it he was acquainted with those writers who lend wings to the creative imagination, if its deli- cate body has found habitation in a human soul. With the acquisition of knowledge went also hand in hand an observation of life and of nature. As he left his native vil- lage in the buggy with Mr. Turner, he had observed how quickly his little companions returned to their marbles after bidding him good-bye ; and he had observed, too, how the high sheriff was " always in town talking politics," and talking "big- ger than anybody." When he came to the plantation his observant eye took in everything, and the observa- tions of the boy became the basis of the lifelong convictions and princi- ples of the man. His greatest na- ture-gift, sympathy, put him in touch with dog and horse, with 16 5ocl CbanDler Ibarrie. black runaway and white deserter, with the master and his slaves. These, he observed, treated him with more consideration than they showed to other white people, with the exception of their master. There was nothing they were not ready to do for him at any time of day or night. Taking him into their inner life, they poured a wealth of legendary folklore and story into his retentive ear, and to him revealed their true nature ; for it is not a race that plays its tricks, as some one has said of nature, un- reservedly before the eyes of every- body. Mr. Harris has never had the sliofhtest desire to become a man of letters ; but the necessity of ex- pressing himself in writing came upon him early in life. His first efforts appeared in the Country- man^ sent in anonymously. Kindly notice and encouragement induced the young writer to throw off dis- guise and to write regularly. His l^-i^ 17 5oel CbanMer Ibarrls. contributions soon took a wider range, embracing local articles, es- says, and poetry. But this idyllic existence was suddenly ended. Sherman's " march through Georgia" brought a corps of his army to the Turner plantation, and when the foragers departed they left little behind them except a changed order of things. The editor-planter called up those of his former slaves that remained, and told them that they were free. The Countrymajt passed away with the old order, devising, however, a rich legacy to the new. "A larger world beckoned [to the young writer] and he went out into it. And it came about that on every side he found loving hearts to com- fort and strong and friendly hands to guide him. He found new asso- ciations, and formed new ties. In a humble way he made a name for himself, but the old plantation clays still live in his dreams." The " Wanderjahre " were few and un- 18 5oel CbanMcr Ibartts. eventful. Now we find him setting his " string " on the JMacon Daily Telegraphy then in a few months he is in New Orleans as a private secretary of the editor of the Cres- cent ]\Io?ithly^ keeping his hand in, however, by writing bright para- graphs for the city papers. In a short while he returns to Georgia to become the editor of the Forsyth Advertiser^ one of the most influen- tial weekly papers in the State. In addition to the editorial work, he set the type, worked off the edition on a hand press, and wrapped and directed his papers for the mail. His bubbling humor and pungent criticism of certain abuses in the State were widely copied, and spe- cially attracted the attention of Colo- nel W. T. Thompson, the author of " Major Jones's Courtship " and other humorous books, who at that time was editor of the Savan^iah Daily News. He offered Mr. Har- ris a place on his staff, which was accepted ; and this pleasant associa- 19 Joel CbanMer Ibarris, tion lasted from 1S71 to 1876. In the latter year a yellow fever epi- demic drove him to Atlanta ; he became at once a member of the editorial staff of the Constitution^ and his literary activity began. And it is altogether fitting, too, that Mr. Harris's success should be iden- tified with this popular journal, for no other newspaper published in the South has given so much attention to literary matters and encourage- ment to literary talent. Up to this time Mr. Harris had written, so far as I am aware, but one brief little sketch, a mere incident, which gave any promise of his future line of development and peculiar powers. It appeared in the Countryinafi at the close of the war — a little sequel to the passing of the Twentieth Army Corps, commanded by Gen- eral Slocum, along the road by the Turner plantation. Thinking that the army would take another route, the lonely lad had seated himself on the fence, and before he knew it the 20 3-oel CbanOlec Ibarris. troops were upon him. Their good-natured chaff he endured with a kind of stunned calmness till all passed. He then jumped from the fence and made his way home through the fields. " In a corner of the fence, not far from the road, Joe found an old negro woman shivering and moaning. Near her lay an old negro man, his shoulders covered with an old, ragged shawl. ' Who is that lying there ? ' asked Joe. ' It my ole man, suh.' ' What is the matter with him ? ' ' He dead, suh ; but bless God, he died free ! ' " Just before Mr. Harris went to Atlanta Mr. S. W. Small had be- gun to give the Constitutio7i a more than local reputation by means of humorous negro dialect sketches. His resignation shortly afterwards made the proprietors turn for aid to Mr. Harris, who, taking an old ne- gro whom he had known on the Turner plantation and making him chief spokesman, brought out in -several sketches the contrast be- 21 5ocl CbanMer Ibarrfs. tween the old and the new condi- tion of things. But he soon tired of these, and one night he Avrote the first sketch in " Legends of the Plan- tation," in which " Uncle Remus '* initiates the " Little Boy," just as it now appears in his first published volume, entitled, " Uncle Remus : His Songs and Sayings." Fame came at once, though the invincible modesty of the author still refuses to recognize it. A number of things enhanced the value of this produc- tion — the wealth of folklore, the ac- curate and entertaining dialect, the delightful stories, the exquisite pic- ture of " the dear remembered days." But the true secret of the power and value of " Uncle Remus " and his " Sayings " does not lie solely in the artistic and masterly setting and narration. The enduring quality lies there, for he has made a j^ast civilization " remarkably striking to the mind's eye," and shown that rare ability " to seize the heart of the suggestion, and make a country 22 5ocl CbanDlcr Ibards. famous with a legend." But under- neath the art is the clear view of life, as well as humor, wit, philoso- phy, and " unadulterated human na- ture." We can get little idea of the revelation which Mr. Harris has made of negro life and character without comparing his conception and delineation with'the ideal negro of "My Old Kentucky Home," " Uncle Tom's Cabin," and « Mars Chan " and " Meh Lady," and the impossible negro of the minstrel shov^. A few years ago the editor of the Philadelphia Times remarked that " it is doubtful whether the real negro can be got very clearly into literature except by way of minstrel shows and the comic drama." In answer to this Mr. Harris has truth- fully said that " a representation of negro life and character has never been put upon the stage, nor any- thing remotely resembling it ; but to all who have any knowledge of the negro, the plantation darky, as he was, is a very attractive figure. It 23 5oel Cbandleu Ibacns* is a silly trick of the clowns to give him over to burlesque, for his life, though abounding in humor, was concerned with all that the imao-ina- tion of man has made pathetic." The negro of the minstrel show, black with burnt cork, sleek and saucy, white - eyed, red - lipped, crowned with plug hat, wearing enormous shoes, and carrvinof a banjo, rises to the dignity of a cari- cature only in the external appear- ance. The wit reeks with stale beer and the Bowery. Foster's " My Old Kentucky Home " is sim- ply " Uncle Tom's Cabin " turned into a song ; and the latter, says Ir- win Russell, " powerfully written as it is, gives no more true idea of ne- gro life and character than one could get from the Nautical Almanac, and, like most other political documents, is quite the reverse of true in almost every respect." These contain the sentiments and the thoughts of artist- philanthropists belonging to a race " three or four thousand years in ad- 24 3^oel CbanC)lec Darris, vance of them [the negroes] in men- tal capacity and moral force." They do breathe with infinite pathos the homely affection, the sorrows and hopes of everyday life, as these have been developed and conceived by the white race ; but who ever heard that this was a favorite song or that a favorite book in any community of negroes? And so Mr. Page's "Marse Chan " and " Meh Lady," and Mr. Allen's " Two Gentlemen of Ken- tucky," are the answers of genius to genius and art pitted against art in this great controversy. In them the devotion, the doglike fidelity, and the unselfishness of the nep-ro are used to intensify the pathos of the white man's situation, just as in the other case the pathos of the ne- gro's situation was utilized to excite the philanthropy of^he white man. In both cases the negro is a mere accessory, used to heighten the ef- fect. It seems to be almost an im- possibility for song writer, novelist, or serious historian to appreciate the 25 5oel CbanDfer Ibarris* nature or understand the condition of the plantation negroes ; for oth- erwise, how can we account for so glaring a misconception as Mr. Bryce's, that they remained, up to the eve of emancipation, " in their notions and habits much what their ancestors were in the forests of the Niger or the Congo." The Southern plantation negro sprang from the child race of hu- manity, and possessed only so much civilization as his contact with the white man gave him. Like children, he used smiles, cunning, deceit, du- plicity, ingenuity, and all the other wiles by which the weaker seek to accommodate themselves to the stronger. Brer Rabbit was his hero, and " it is not virtue that triumphs, but helplessness ; it is not malice, but mischievousness." In the course of time he became remarkable for both inherent and grafted qualities. Gratitude he was distinguished for ; hospitality and helpfulness were his natural creed ; brutality was con- 26 5ocl CbanMer Ibarrfs. spicuously absent, considering the prodigious depth of his previous degradation. He did not lack cour- age, industry, self-denial, or virtue. He did an immense amount of quiet thinking, and, with only such forms of expression as his circumstances furnished, he indulged in paradox, hyperbole, aphorism, sententious comparison, and humor. He treas- ured his traditions, w^as enthusiastic, patient, long-suffering, religious, rev- erent. "Is there not poetry in the character?" asked Irwin Russell, the first, perhaps, to conceive and to delineate it with real fidelity to life. Since his all too untimely taking off many have attempted this subject ; but no one has equaled the crea- tor of " Uncle Remus," one of the very few creations of American writers worthy of a place in the gallery of the immortals ; and he should be hung in the corner with such gentlemen as Col. Newcome and Sir Roger de Coverley, and not very far from Rip Van Win- 27 5oel Cban&lec Ibaccis, kle, my Uncle Toby, and Jack Fal- staff. Before the war Uncle Remus had always exercised authority over his fellow-servants. He had been the captain of the corn pile, the stoutest at the log rolling, the swiftest with the hoe, the neatest with the plow, the leader of the plantation hands. Now he is an old man whose tall figure and venerable appearance are picturesque in the extreme, but he moves and speaks with the vigor of perennial youth. He is the embod- iment of the quaint and homely hu- mor, the picturesque sensitiveness — a curious exaltation of mind and temperament not to be defined by words — and the really poetic imagi- nation of the negro race ; and over all is diffused the genuine flavor of the old plantation. With the art to conceal art, the author retires behind the scenes and lets this patriarch re- veal negro life and character to the world. Now it is under the guise of Brer Rabbit, after his perilous 28 5oel Gban&ler Ibarris. adventure with the tar baby and nar- row escape from Brer Fox as he is seen " settin' cross-legged on a chink- apin log koamin' de pitch outen his har w4d a chi23," and " flingin' back some er his sass, ' Bred and bawn in a brier patch, Brer Fox ; bred and bawn in a brier patch ! ' " Another phase is seen in " Why Brer Possum Loves Peace," a story of indolent good nature, questionable valor, and nonsensical wisdom : " I don' min' fightin' no mo' dan you doz, sez'^ee, but I declar' to grashus ef I kin Stan' ticklin.' An' down ter dis day," continued Uncle Remus, " down ter dis day. Brer Possum's boun' ter s'render w'en you tech him in de short ribs, en he'll laff ef he knows he's ofwine ter be smashed for it." This whimsical defense of inborn cowardice has a touch of nature in it which makes it marvelously akin to Sir John's counterfeiting on Shrewsbury plain. But the pre- vailing interest is centered in Brer Rabbit's skill in outwitting Brer 29 5oel CbanMec fbarrls. Fox and the other animals, which is managed with such cleverness and good nature that we cannot but sym- pathize with the hero, in spite of his utter lack of conscience or convic- tion. But the chief merit of these stories, as Mr. Page has remarked, springs directly from the fact that Uncle Remus knows them, is relat- ing them, and is vivifying them with his own quaintness and humor, and is impressing us in every phase with his own delightful and lovable per- sonality. Mr. Harris's skill in nar- rative is well-nigh perfect, and the conversation, in which his books abound, is carried on with absolute naturalness and fidelity to life. The habit of thought as well as of speech is strikingly reproduced. Not a word strikes a false note, not a scene or incident is out of keeping with the spirit of the life presented. No one has more perfectly preserved some of the most important traits of South- ern character, nor more enchanting- ly presented some of the most beau- 30 5oel CbanDler Ibacrts. tiful phases of Southern civiHza- tion. Other phases of negro character, very different from those presented in the "Legends," appeared in the "Say- ings" and in various "Sketches," which reproduce " the shrewd ob- ervations, the curious retorts, the homely thrusts, the quaint com- ments, and the humorous philosophy of the race of which Uncle Remus is a type." But in " Nights with Uncle Remus," "Daddy Jake the Runaway," and " Uncle Remus and His Friends " we returned again to the old plantation home; "daddy," " mammy," and the " field hands " lived once more with their happy, smiling faces ; songs floated out upon the summer air, laden with the per- fume of rose and honeysuckle and peach blossom, and mingled with the rollicking medley of the mock- ing bird ; and we felt that somehow over the whole life the spell of gen- ius had been thrown, rendering it immortal. But it is with and through 31 Joel CbanMec Ibarris. the negro that Mr. Harris has wrought this wonder, for as Mr. Page says : "No man who has ever written has known one-tenth part about the negro that Mr. Harris knows, and for those who hereafter shall wish to find not merely the words, but the real language of the negro of that section, and the habits of mind of all American negroes of the old time, his works will prove the best thesaurus." Again a larger world beckoned to the writer, as to the boy, and he en- tered the field of original story-tell- ing and wider creative ability with perfect poise and consummate liter- ary art in " Mingo," a " Cracker " tragedy, disclosing the pent-up rage of a century against aristocratic neighbors, antipathy to the negro, narrowness and pride, happily turned by Mingo's gratitude and watchful and protecting love for his young " Mistiss's " fatherless and mother- less little girl into a smiling comedy, closing with this pretty picture : 32 5oel CbauDler Ibards. " The sunshine falHng gently upon his gray hairs, and the httle girl clinging to his hand and daintily throwing kisses." Mingo, drawn with genuine sympathy and true skill, is one of the author's master- pieces ; but we are somehow spe- cially attracted to Mrs. Feratia Biv- ins, whose " pa would 'a' bin a rich man, an' 'a' owned niggers^ if it hadn't but 'a' bin bekase he sot his head agin stintin' of his stomach," and whose sharp tongue, homely wit, and indignant hate portray the first of a group of the Mrs. Poyser- like women who give spice as well as life to the author's pages. An- other is Mrs. Kendrick in " Blue Dave " — of which, by the bye, the author says, " I like ' Blue Dave ' better than all the rest, w^hich is an- other way of saying that it is far from the best " — whose humor con- ceals her own emotions, and flashes a calcium light upon the weaknesses of others. " Well, well, well ! " said Mrs. Kendrick, speaking of the quiet, 3 33 5oel CbanMer Ibacrfs, self-contained, elegant, and rather prim Mrs. Denham. " She always put me in mind of a ghost that can't be laid on account of its pride. But we're what the Lord made us, I reck- on, and people deceive their looks. My old turkey gobbler is harmless as a hound puppy, but I reckon he'd bust if he didn't up and strut when strangers are in the front porch." "Uncle Remus," "Mingo," "Blue Dave," and " Balaam " belong to the class which " has nothing but pleas- ant memories of the discipline of slavery, and which has all the preju- dices of caste and pride of family that were the natural results of the system." But " Free Joe " presents another phase — this heart tragedy brought about by the inhumanity of man and the pitiless force of circum- stances. Nowhere has the helpless wretchedness of the dark side of slavery been more clearly recognized or more powerfully depicted. Truth demands that the complete picture shall be given, though silly scrib-^ 34 5oel CbanC)lcr Ibarris, bier or narrow bigot may accuse the author of trying to cater to North- ern sentiment. Every now and then some Southern writer is subjected to this unmanly and ignoble insult, though much less frequently than formerly. Mr. Maurice Thompson's poem and Mr. Henry Watterson's speech on " Lincoln," Mr. James Lane Allen's lecture on " The South in Fiction," and Mr. W. P. Trent's " Life of William Gilmore Simms," seem to produce a mild form of rabies in certain quarters. " AVhat does it matter," asks Mr. Harris, " whether I am Northern or South- ern, if I am true to truth, and true to that larger truth, my own true self? My idea is that truth is more important than sectionalism, and that literature that can be labeled Northern, Southern, Western, or Eastern is not worth labeling at all." Shutting one's eyes to facts removes them neither from life nor from history. And so we are spe- cially thankful to Mr. Harris for 35 3-oel CbanDler Ibarcts. " Free Joe," " Little Compton," and all those passages in " On the Plan- tation " and his other writings which lead us to a truer and larger human- ity. His skillful manner of convey- ing a lesson is admirably done at the close of " Free Joe." This " black atom drifting hither and thither with- out an owner, blown about by all the winds of circumstance, and given over to shiftlessness," is the person- ification of helpless suffering, and yet he chuckles as he slips away from the cabin of the cracker broth- er and sister into the night. Micajah vStaley, how^ever, the representative of too large a number, says : " Look at that nigger ; look at 'im. He's pine blank as happy now as a kildee by a mill race. You can't 'faze 'em. I'd in about give up my t'other hand ef I could Stan' flat-footed an' grin at trouble like that there nigger." " Niggers is niggers," said Miss Becky, smiling grimly, " an' you can't rub it out ; yit I lay I've seed a heap of white folks lots meaner'n 36 5ocl CbanMer Ibarris. Free Joe. He grins — and that's nig- ger — but I've ketched his underjaw a trimblin' when Lucindy's name uz brung up." He was found dead the next morning,with a smile on his face. " It was as if he had bowed and smiled when death stood before him, humble to the last." The world could ill spare woman's or the artist's eye. Other stories, as "At Teague Po- teet's," " Trouble on Lost Moun- tain," and "Azalia," show a steady gain in the range of Mr. Harris's creative power. The keenest inter- est was awakened when the first part of "i\t Teague Poteet's " came out in the Centuiy^ May, 18S3, and the reader who happened to turn to the Atlantic for the same month and read " The Harnt That Walks Chilhowee" must have been sur- prised at the revelation which these two admirable stories made of the real and potent romance of the moun- tains and valleys of Tennessee and Georgia. This was a longer and more sustained effort than Uncle 37 5oel CbanMer Ibarrls. Remus had ever attempted. It evinced an eye for local color, ap- preciation of individual characteris- tics, and the ability to catch the spirit of a people that could be as open as their valleys or as rugged, enigmat- ical, and silent as their mountains. Scene and character were vividly real, and the story vs^as told with consummate art and luiflagging in- terest till the climax was reached. " Trouble on Lost Mountain " sus- tained his reputation as a story-teller and added the element of tragic power. At a first glance it would seem that these, with his previous writ- ings, give promise of the fully developed novel with the old plan- tation life for a background and the nation for its scope. But it must not be forgotten that Mr. Harris is a hard-working journalist, sel- dom missing a day from his desk ; and as Mr. Stedman has pointed out in regard to Bayard Taylor, " this task of daily writing for the press, 38 5oel CbanDlec Ibarrts. while a good staff, is a poor crutch ; it diffuses the heat of authorship, checks idealism, retards the construc- tion of masterpieces." It is perhaps due to this that the love element in these stories lacks that romantic fer- vor and tenderness which make all the world love a lover. They are vivid and dramatic, sparkling with humor and keen observations, and revealing intimate knowledge of hu- man hearts. But in "Azalia," for instance, the Southern general and his mother are rather conventional, and Miss Hallie is insipid, though through them we do catch glimpses of old Southern mansions, with their stately yet simple architecture, ad- mirably illustrative of the lives and characters of the owners, and of the unaffected, warm, and gracious old- time hospitality. The Northern la- dies, too, admirably described as they are in a few words, are slight sketches rather than true present- ments. This story is particularly rich in types, but the real life in its 5oel CbanMer Ibartte* humor and its pathos is in the " char- acters." Mrs. Haley, a lineal de- scendant of Mrs. Poyser ; William, a little imp of sable hue that might serve as a weather-stained statue of comedy, if he were not so instinct with life ; and Emma Jane Stucky — the representative of that inde- scribable class of people known as the piny woods " Tackies " — whose " pale, unhealthy-looking face, with sunken eyes, high cheek-bones, and thin lips that seemed never to have troubled themselves to smile — a burnt-out face that had apparently surrendered to the past and had no hope for the future " — remains in- delibly etched upon the memory^ making its mute appeal for human sympathy and helpful and generous pity. Like all genuine humorists, Mr. Harris has his wit always sea- soned with love, and a moral purpose underlies all his writings. In the tv^elve volumes or more which he has published he has preserved tra- ditions and legends, photographed a 40 Joel CbanOlec Ibarrls. civilization, perpetuated types, cre- ated one character. Humor and sym- pathy are his chief qualities, and in everything he is simple and natural. Human character is stripped of tire- less details. The people speak their natural language, and act out their little tragedies and comedies accord- ing to their nature. " We see them, share their joys and griefs, laugh at their humor, and in the midst of all, behold, we are taught the lesson of honesty, justice, and mercy." In person Joel Chandler Harris is somewhat under the middle height, compact, broad of shoulder, and rath- er rotund about the waist. But he is supple, energetic, and his swing- ing stride still tells of the freedom w^hich the boy enjoyed on the Tur- ner plantation. He is the most pro- nounced of blondes, with chestnut hair, a mustache of the same color, and sympathetic, laughing blue eyes. Sick or well, he is always in a good humor, and enjoys his work, his friends, and his family. Sprung 41 5ocl CbanDler Ibarrts* from a simple, sincere race whose wants were few and whose tastes were easily satisfied, he is very hon- est and outspoken in his opinions and convictions, and the whole na- ture of the man tends to earnestness,, simplicity, and truth. " I like peo- ple," he says, " who are what they are, and are not all the time trying to be what somebody else has been." In spite of the fame which has come unbidden, he still delights to luxu- riate in the quiet restfulness of his semirural home in the little suburb of West End, three miles from the heart of Atlanta ; and we confess that we like best to think of him, as Mr. Brainerd once described him in the Critic^ in this typical Southern cot- tage nestling in a grove of sweet gum and pine, enlivened by the sing- ing of a family of mocking birds that wintered in his garden — and not a bird among them, we imagined, with whose peculiarities he was not fa- miliar. In a distant corner of his enclosure a group of brown-eyed 42 5oel CbanC)ler Ibarris, Jerseys grazed. Hives of bees were placed near a flower garden that sloped down to the bubbling spring at the foot of the road, a few rods distant. The casual visitor, we were told, was apt to be eyed by the dig- nified glance of a superb English mastiff, followed by the bark of two of the finest dogs in the coun- try — one a bull dog, the other a white English bull terrier. But this was published in 1885, and now Mr. Garsney, in the Book Buye?' for March, 1896, tells us that the " grove of sweet gums," the " babbling brook," and the " droning bees are all fictions of somebody else's poetic fancy." Still Mr. Garsney, in his setting for the author of " Uncle Remus," has the eye of an artist and is himself full of poetry, how- ever ruthless he may be with " po- etic fancies," for after placing him " amid his roses," he adds : " The roses are his one passion, and under his tender care the garden — the finest rose garden in Atlanta outside of a 43 5ocl CbanMer Ibarrie. florist's domain — blooms with jDrod- igal beauty from May until the mid- dle of December. In the early sum- mer mornings, when the mocking birds are trying their notes in the cedar, and the wrens are chirping over their nest in the old mail box at the gate, you can hear the snip- ping of the pruning shears, and you know that Joel Chandler Harris is caressing his roses while the dew is yet on their healthy leaves." In this home, with its spacious ve- randas, generous hearths, and wide, sunny windows, the right man is sure to find a welcome. The house is one in which bric-a-brac, trump- ery, and literary litter are conspic- uously absent, but evidently a home where wife and children take the place of these inanimate objects of devotion. But here the man Joel Chandler Harris, as Carlyle would have said, is seen at his best. It is here that the usually silent or monosyllabic figure takes on life and shares with another his inner 44 Joel CbanMer Ibarrls. wealth of thought and fancy. Mr. Garsney, who had the good fortune to be an inmate of this home for some months, and to \vhose sketch the writer is indebted for many of these personal remarks and ob- servations, thus describes certain rare moments : " It is in the dark- ness of a summer evening, on the great front porch of his house, or by his fireside, with no light save that from the flickering coals which he loves to punch and caress, that the man breaks forth into conver- sation. I have had in these rare twilight hours the plot of a whole book unfolded to me — a book that is yet in the dim future, but which will make a stir when it appears ; I have heard stories innumerable of old plantation life and of happen- ings in Georgia during the war ; and I have heard through the mouth of this taciturn and unliterary-look- ing man more thrilling stories of colonial life in the South than I had believed the South held. At 45 5oel CbanDler Ibarcis. these times the slight hesitancy that is usually apparent in his speech dis- appears ; his thoughts take words and come forth, tinged by the quaint Georgia dialect, in so original a shape and so full of human nature that one remembers these hours long afterwards as times to be marked with a white stone." But it is only to the chosen com- panion that he thus unlocks his treasures. He seldom has more than a word for ordinary acquaint- ances, and the ubiquitous interview- er he avoids as a deadly plague. From him the autograph fiends get no response, and many amus- ing stories are told of his suc- cess in eluding sightseers and lion- hunters. No inducement has yet prevailed upon him to appear in public, either as a reader or as a lec- turer. "I would not do it for $i,- 000,000," was once his response to an invitation to lecture. Many po- sitions of great trust and prominence, we are told, have been refused by 46 5ocl CbanMer Ibacris* him, for he says : " If the greatest position on the round earth were to be offered me, I wouldn't take it. The responsibihty would kill me in two weeks. Now I haven't any care or any troubles, and I have resolved never to worry any more. Life is all a joke to me. Why make it a care?" To those who are engaged in the pigmy contests for money and place this philosophy will doubtless ap- pear tame and unheroic. But for a man of Mr. Harris's peculiar gifts and temperament it is the highest wisdom. It means the saving for mankind what a few would squan- der upon themselves. It means more inimitable stories, and since his suc- cess in the past justifies us in expect- ing it, and especially since he has reached the age of ripest wisdom and supremest effort on the part of genius, it means, we may hope, a work into which he will put the wealth of his mind and heart, and expand and compress into one 47 3^oel CbanMer Ibarris. novel the completest expression of his whole being. But if he should never give us a masterpiece of fiction like his beloved " Vicar of Wake- field," "Ivanhoe," "Vanity Fair," or " The Scarlet Letter," we shall still be forever grateful for the fresh and beautiful stories, the delightful humor, the genial, manly philosophy, and the wise and witty sayings in which his writings abound. His characters have become world pos- sessions ; his words are in all our mouths. By virtue of these gifts he will be enrolled in that small but dis- tinguished company of humorists, the immortals of the heart and home, whose genius, wisdom, and charity keep fresh and sweet the springs of life, and Uncle Remus will live al- ways. 48 Cminent T/^ethodists. SERIES^0R^96. '^T'HIS is a series of booklets, uniform V"^ in stjle with " Southern Writers," which is issued monthly. It will em- brace twelve biographical sketches of eminent Methodists, written bj Bishops O. P. Fitzgerald and Charles B. Gallo- way. The names of these distinguished authors give a pledge of the highest ex- cellence, and we bespeak for the series a wide circulation. They will include the following: Eoirtck Picrw, fieorgc T. Pierce, £. e. Garland, Jefferson liamilton, moses Brock, Susanna Uleslev, li. n. mctyeire, uiniiam Uimans, Robert n. Smith, Benjamin m. Drake, Robert Hlexander, 3ames H. Duncan. The first six numbers are already pub- lished, and the succeeding titles will fol- low monthly. Subscription for the Whole Series, 50c. Single Numbers, 5c. ^arbee dc Smith, J't^enis, NASHVILLE, TENN. mntings of ^^ Joel Chandler Harris. « « « Uncle Remus i His Songs and His Sajings. The Folklore of the Old Plantation. Illustrated $2 00 Uncle Remus and His Friends, Old Plantation Stories, Songs, and Ballads, with Sketches of Negro Character. Illustrated. 1 50 Nights with Uncle Remus, Illus- trated 1 50 Mingo and Other Sketches in Black and White 1 25 Balaam and His Masters, and Other Sketches and Stories 1 25 Little Mr, Thimblefinger and His ^^[^ Queer Country, What the Chil- ^ dren Saw and Heard There. II- Ol lustrated 2 00 v-y, Mr, Rabbit at Homei A Sequel to W Little Mr. Thimblefinger 2 00 ^ On the Old Plantation, With Nu- merous Illustrations 1 50 « « « NASHVILLE, TBNN. LP.A PV9