THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA AT CHAPEL HILL ENDOWED BY THE DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETIES 00012121633 This book is due at the WALTER R. DAVIS LIBRARY on the last date stamped under "Date Due." If not on hold it may be renewed by bringing it to the library. DATE RET DUE RET - DATE RET DUE "*;>•' " 1 "' nr: WWt . 4 i998 rrn n * « \ AN Appeal to CLesar By ALBION W. TOURGEE, Author of "A Fool's Ekkand," "Bricks Without Straw," Etc. " (Hnio Catsar sfjalt ttiou go."— Acts, xxv. ^ The Library the University cf North Carolina Chape! Hill New York:- FORDS, HOWARD, & HULBERT. 1SS4. Copyright, 1884, By ALBION W. TOURG^E. To all those who in mine adversity showed kindness, this book is gratefully inscribed. A. W. T. \3 \ Preface. A N upas-tree had taken deep root in the vir- *** gin soil of the New World. A free people hacked it down with the sword. It cost more than a million lives and five billions of dollars to accomplish the task. The roots were left to gather strength for other harmful growth. The Nation was so elated with its achievement that it forgot all about the source from which the evil sprang. Already the new growth has borne fruit of Violence and Misrule. Can we afford to allow the roots to remain ? How much can we afford to pay to have them digged up ? How can this best be accomplished ? These questions this little book is designed to help every thoughtful and patriotic freeman to answer for himself. The AUTHOR. New York, July, 1884. Contents. PAGE A Pledge in Mortmain g A Retrospect 21 A Forgotten Chapter 37 Some Queer Notions Plainly Stated 49 A Bit of Personal History 55 A Shattered Idol 6S A "Treason of the Blood" SS Too TruiT an Evil 10S To-Morrow in the Light of Yesterday 118 A Macedonian Cry 136 Accounting for Strange Things 155 8 Contents. TAGE The Other Side of the Picture 171 The Black Republics 185 Divide and Conquer 199 A New Complication 225 "Am I my Brother's Keeper?" 239 Wisdom Becometh a King 260 Is Education a Specific? 267 A Pharmacopoeia 286 Who Shall Apply the Remedy ? 301 The Method of Application 314 Objections Considered . ... 349 From Different Standpoints 382 Will Cesar Hear ? 408 What can Cesar Do ? 416 A Pledge in Mortmain TT was an afternoon in early June. Two men ■*■ sat in the wide embrasure of a window of the White House at Washington. On a table near them were a few books and a set of diagrams, to which they now and then referred in the course of their conversation. The sultry summer day was drawing to a close. Long soft shadows stretched across the lawn, out of which bright- hued blossoms looked up as if to welcome the coming coolness. The gray walls of the Treasury building took on a yellowish gleam in the light io Jin Appeal to Ccesar. of the setting sun. The cool evening breeze that came in through the open window was freighted with the scent of honeysuckle that clambered over the trellis below, vexed and thwarted by overmuch effort to compel it to obedience. One of the men was the President of the United States. The other was a citizen, sum- moned to his presence by a telegram, which read, " Come on Saturday, when I shall be at leisure." It is treasured now as a priceless memento. They were not strangers. Even in the boyhood of one, their lines had crossed. Afterward they had been fellow-soldiers, divided in rank by a great gulf, yet greeting each other when they met. When the conflict was over their lives drifted even further apart. One of them had joined the legislative molders of the nation's destiny ; the other was hidden in the oblivion of a great national experiment. The one had helped to shape the legislation that was intended to recon- struct, out of the chaos that war had left in its train, a new civilization. The other had watched upon the theater of its operation the resultant effects of this legislation. As a consequence, per- haps, while in purpose and sentiment they had grown nearer to each other, yet in their convic- A Pledge in Mortmain. 1 1 tions as to policy and methods they had drifted very widely asunder. The one had been disappointed and chagrined at the failure of measures, which he had heartily supported, to accomplish a tithe of the results he had anticipated. He could not doubt their jus- tice. He could not understand their failure. Had he dared to question the universality of the principles of freedom on which they rested, he mi°*ht have doubted whether the nation had not gone too far. He did not doubt. He only won- dered why good seed planted with blood and tears, " with malice toward none and with charity for all," should yield such meager sheaves of good and such an abundant harvest of evil. He had applied a specific remedy to a certain state of facts. The results had not been in accordance with his expectations. He was seeking earnestly for the malign influence — the immediate ex- traneous force which had prevented the opera- tion of causes whose efficacy he would not permit himself to doubt. The other, with less interest perhaps in the success of these specific measures, had been a keen observer of their operation. His lot had been cast among people whose daily lives had 12 An Appeal to Ctesar. been colored by their influence. To him, the measures from which his companion had hoped so much and in which he could not yet abandon faith had come to seem so crude and ill-digested that, instead of wondering at the evil results which had followed hard upon their adoption, he was amazed that infinitely worse things had not occurred. Casting about to discover the reason, he perceived that the President and his political associates of a previous decade had legislated with only a superficial knowledge of the life they sought to shape, omitting from their considera- tion some of the most important and difficult elements of the problem they undertook to solve. It was not surprising that they did so. The situation in which they found themselves was a strange one, and only the outer form of the social fabric they sought to rebuild was known to them. They had peopled the conquered territory with an imaginary life so like and yet so unlike the reality that it was not strange that a half- knowledge noted the resemblances and that a fuller intimacy recalled the discrepancies. The two had met at this time to compare their views upon these questions. It was not the first time it had been mooted A Pledge in Mortmain. 13 between them. Before the Legislator had be- come the President, the citizen had more than once pressed his own views upon him, urging a consideration of the remedy lie proposed. Ap- parently his insistence was without result. Al- most in despair because those who stood at the head of affairs would not listen to what he de- sired to say, he appealed to a larger audience, and spread his views before the whole people. The popular verdict which he had thus secured had brought his theories again to the attention of the Legislator now become President. They had impressed that officer so deeply that he had given up a considerable portion of his inaugural address to their consideration, and had sought this op- portunity for consulting personally with the author. For more than two hours they had been in close conversation, sometimes walking back and forth in the room, as was the President's frequent custom when deeply interested, sometimes refer-, ring to the books and diagrams upon the table, and sometimes sitting by the window ; but always pursuing the same theme. The room was full of historic memories, but neither had time to think of them. Now and then a clerk came and held 14 An Appeal to Ccesar. a brief consultation with the Chief Executive. Once or twice a visitor, resolute and importunate, was admitted to a hurried interview. But always the two talkers came back to the same topic, and as the shadows grew dim upon the lawn their conversation drew to a close. They found that they agreed upon many things and disagreed in regard to a few. As to the evil and the danger there was no difference. Of the failure of what had been done there could be no denial. As to the remedy there was divergence. " I see," said the President, laying his hand heavily on the other's shoulder as he stood beside him, " I see all that you urge, and admit that it seems reasonable ; but it will take so long — so very long." " It will require a long time," replied the other, seriously. " How long, do you think — ten years ?" asked the President as he turned away and began to pace hurriedly to and fro in the narrow room. " Suppose it should require a century?" " You do not mean to say that it will take that time to cure this evil?" " I do not say it will require a decade or a century. I only know that it is the growth of A Pledge in Mortmain. 15 centuries and cannot be extirpated in an hour. Peoples — races — change only by the slowest of processes ; a little in one generation and a little more in another." 11 But it cannot be. God will not permit it to take so long a time !" " What has God to do with time ? If he puts a task before us, shall we not undertake it because we may not live to see the end ?" " No, no ! But is there not some quicker method — some shorter way to the end ?" " That is what you gentlemen who used to meet at the other end of the Avenue tried so long to find. Already we have spent a decade and a half in trying to invent a nigh-cut — a shorter way from Slavery to Freedom. Has anything been accomplished of which we may be proud ?" " Ah, no ! Where we expected success and honor, we have met with failure and shame." " Simply because we were in too great haste." " Why should we not be ? Did we want the settlement — the matters arising out of four years of war — hanging over us for a generation ?" " That is it exactly," said the other. " It was not the settlement of the issues of war that we attempted, but the tearing down of a social edi- 1 6 An Appeal to Ccesar. fice that it had required centuries to build up, and the erection of another in its stead." "Yes," assented the President, thoughtfully, " you are right. But who could have foreseen what has occurred ? Perhaps we all ought to have done so. We ought at least to have known that such changes cannot be made instanta- neously. How did you come to work out the problem as you have done there ?" He pointed to a book lying on the table as he spoke. " Simply because its elements were before me all the time, and I thought of it day and night. Any thoughtful man would have done the same." " I doubt that," said he, with a pleasant smile ; " but I must admit that I can find no fault with your conclusions. Whatever may be the merits of the remedy you propose, there is no doubt that you have correctly diagnosed the disease. But it is such a weary time to wait ! I could hardly expect to see positive results, if I should begin the work at once." " How much greater is the honor to him who sows the seed than to him who reaps the harvest !" The President paced thoughtfully up and down the room once or twice. Then, as a mutual A Pledge in Mortmain. iy friend entered, he referred jocularly to the subject of the conversation, and, quoting a flattering sen- tence from " Ben Hur," a work then fresh from the press and a prime favorite with him, he took the other's hand in his strong grasp and said : " You are right. There is no other way. We must begin — at the beginning. Write out your views of what is possible to be done and let me have them — or, better still, put them into a book and I will study it. Of course, I must find my own way in this matter, but you can help me. No one else has studied the subject in the same way or from the same stand-point that you have occupied. I have a great deal to do. I am al- most worn out now, and I have just begun. You must help me in this matter." The desired promise was given. The friend who stood by laughingly witnessed the compact. When next we looked upon that face, then lighted up with almost boyish enthusiasm, the shadow of the pall rested upon it. 1 8 An Appeal to Cczsar. This book is the fulfillment of that promise. It has been delayed by many unexpected things. The death of him from whom so much was ex- pected brought discouragement. Engrossing occupation distracted the author's attention. It seemed a thankless task to begin where he had begun so many times before, and go wearily over the old ground, perhaps for naught. There came, too, the foolish idea that he had done enough. The pressure of his surroundings had ceased to impel him so urgently in that direction. He dreaded the labor and the conflict — the odium and hostility that come to one who ventures be- yond the beaten track of political thought. Besides that, he saw others working in a sim- ilar direction. They were many and he was alone. A great party had given its solemn pledge to do what needed to be done. Then, too, he thought he might be wrong. Congress seemed to be working toward the matter. Per- haps it would be wiser for him to leave the task in other hands. He was not silent or entirely inactive ; but he neglected fully to set forth the idea which had so long possessed him, until he came to despair of all hope for action from the Congress which has just adjourned (July, 1884). A Pledge in Mortmain. 19 And now, in prep'ari ng the work, he feels that he has fulfilled a vow to the dead as well as a duty to the living. The appeal is made not to the dear, dead Caesar, whose great heart was just awakening to the task before him, but to that other and greater Csesar whom none so devoutly revered— the AMERICAN PEOPLE. It is not claimed that this work represents the views of President Garfield upon the subject treated. The above-related conversation was -written out from notes which were made imme- diately after it took place. One or two letters which the author has in reply to more or less complete expositions of the subject are of the same tenor. The author does not believe that the President had decided upon any particular course of action in regard to the matter, but does believe that he considered it the most im- portant question that was to receive attention during his administration. On one occasion he expressly stated that he regarded it as a provi- dential thing that " the national prosperity is such as to permit appropriations for this purpose that would otherwise be deemed onerous.' 1 20 An Appeal to Ccesar. What would he not have said had he lived to see an annual surplus of more than a hundred millions in the Treasury ! The White Spaces Show Proportions. A Retrospect. r I ^H£ simplest things not unfrequently come to -*■ seem the most intricate and really are the most inexplicable. Nearly all the great convulsions history records seem to have turned upon the slightest misunderstandings. The construction of a single sentence has more than once been ac- counted a good enough cause for years of war- fare. The meaning of a single word set the Chris- tian world by the ears for centuries and made martyrs by wholesale. The path of reconcilement between two opposing forces may be as broad as 22 An Appeal to Ccesar. the king's Highway to an unprejudiced mind, and yet neither party will consent to walk therein. It is not because men are incapable of seeing both sides of a question that such apparently insignifi- cant differences become of so great consequence, but because they will not believe that those who think differently from themselves are as honest as they know themselves to be in their opinions: thus it is that difference once begun ends only at the antipodes. The story I desire to tell is so simple in its ele- ments that it seems almost absurd to treat it as one demanding serious exposition. There were two peoples who dwelt together as one nation. Nominally, they had been united for three quarters of a century only. In reality common interests and common dangers had bound them more or less closely to each other for three hundred years. When they were merely isolated colonies they spoke of themselves under a common name. They had very many other things in common. They boasted a common origin, though this was justly subject to modification. They spoke the same language, worshiped the same God in a like multiplicity of forms, and, in general, professed to revere the same ideals. Nominally the same gov- A Retrospect. 23 ernment extended over both, though in truth it was only a common form that lent itself to hide the an- tipodal ideas that underlay the one and the other. These two peoples never noted or admitted the inherent differences that existed between them. When they spoke of themselves collectively they said, " We, the People," as if they were but one. Yet each one accounted its own distinctive differences as its chiefest excellences. Instinct- ively, they knew that a great gulf lay between them. Year after year they bridged it with mutual falsehoods. Year after year they swore to all the world that it did not exist. Yet year by year it grew wider and deeper, and generation after gen- eration the impulse gained to regard themselves as dissimilar in all respects but one — that of a common nationality. To this fiction they both clung with a faith that would have been ludicrous had it not been so sincere. They were like two families dwelling in one house, each pursuing its distinct avocations and nourishing its own inter- ests, yet holding under one lease and constituting one possession. To the world they were one country; to themselves, two peoples. To the world they were" The United States;" to each other they were " The North" and