Newspaper Page Text
THE 3 WASHINGTON GAZETTE.
vot:. xx.
BISMARCK AID WIFE.
\
How the<ol<3 Statesman Worshipped Hie
Johanna.
[Tempi** Bir.J
A change was shortly to come over
*the whole life and character of the fu
ture priutie ami chancellor. One of
’the neighbors, with Whom lie lived
ton tertwa of Intimacy*, was Mon von
Hlacirenbuig.amJ in his house he made
tho acquaintance of Johanna von Pul
kammer, which during a journey
which tnhy mado in company with
their common friends, ripened to a
deep and lasting attention. Tho young
lady’s parents were very quiet and
deeply religious persons, and when (he
“mad Lord of Dniephot” wrote to ask
their daughter's hand, ami sho con
fessed that she hud given hint berhearl
their cousternallon was great. Tlie
father coutessed tlial “he felt as if he
, had been struck on the head with an
axe," but he did no teol justified in op
jmsing the wishes of the young people.
Xhe mother was more obdurate, and
it was only when Bismarck appeared
to plead his own cause that site
grained her consent. But having
yielded, she dill so frankly ami with
out, recrve. Shu welcomed lief fu
ture son-in-law, uot only toiler home
but to her heart, and he proved him
self thoroughly whirlhv of her eontl- ,
deneq, lie became a rel“mcmber ot
tbu family, ami the first serkiutdiffer
ence which lie had with the parents
of his wife was also tho lust. Tho
marriage was celebrated on the 2**t 1>
July, ltd 7.
To uudcrslaud the effect which
this union had on the whole cliarac
■ter of tlie future statesman it is neecs
to remember several thing*, lie
■;5: limeilt i-j,l \dl-gu-tod with
li'c- He had in -i ex.r—
--• 1i ■ V,
11
• -f..
Maw,
jjiiy®' [ST.-liadeil 11,a! the ■,['
is vainly. While yonng in
in mind and itiini\ , un
►aisßp I ha! •—•••! i.llu-u 11 :.i\
Kliu could linil no idea, no aim and
lo ambition that fired and satisfied
ilia imagination. With religion in
in the true sense of the word lie had
never been brought into contact until
lie wooed her in his bride. In his
youth two spiritual influences had
been predominant in Prussia—the de
ism of Voltarie, slightly modified by
that of Lessing, and the mysticism of
the coinan£lcschool. From the latter
tendency his father's house had been
almost cowplatefy free, and what he
saw fit in later years was not calcu
lated to atttact the keen-eyed, hard
headed, open-hearted youth.
hut in his wife and her family he
was brought face to face with anew
power. Here were men and woiueu,
leading not only blameless, hut active
and useful lives, who had as strong a
hold on the external reality of tlie
world as any one, and who yet were
net oi this world, hut constantly felt
they were in the presence of a judge, a
fattier and a friend. In such a con
viction lie too, might find a motive
and an aim. Like ■Goethe he ba(}
sought consolation and strength in
the ethics of Spinoza, but, unlike the
great poet, he hau not succeeded In
finding them there. The thought of
a personal loyalty to a personal god,
on the other hand, appealed to tire
deepest impulse of his nature; and the
home into which he, the wild wan
derer, hid been received with hesita
tion at first, it is true, hut then in per
fect affection and confidence, was so
cairn and qniettbat it seemed as if the
pence ihat passeth understanding
blooded over it; indeed, it did.
Bismarck became deeply imbued
with his wife’s religious convic
tions, and lie found in them the
motive .power that had hitherto
been wanting in his life. This was
the turning point; from henceforth he
lie had a purpose that, filled and satis*
fled dis whole <fo his duty
before a living God. .Doubtless, like
all of us he has fallen short of his
ideal, and still more undoubtedly, in
tt.e opinion ot most, he has at times
mistaken his dnty; but alway there
has been a power with him which
enabled him to despise the praise of
men and to appeal to a higher stand
ard than the phrase of the fashion of
the hour.
The time now had come when the
man wlisse youth had been so wild
and wayward was called to take s se
rious part in the active, political life
oT the ago. But before glancing at
the work as it was given him lo tln,
and the way in Which it was done, f!
it may bo will to . translate
a few passages from his letters, which
show ifn; spirit in which it was under
taken. In July, 1851, lie wrote front
Frankfort to his wife :
“The day before yesterday I dined
with—-at Wiesbaden, and viewed
scenes of my former (tolly with sadness
and raiher premature wisdom. Mav it
please (lod to fill with his own clear,
strong wine the vessel front which lli
champagne of yoilifi then uselessly
frothed away,leaving nothing but fiat
dregs behind. Where, I wonder, aro
and Miss .ami what maybe
their lot? Him many with whom I
then flirted, drank ami played, are
now in their graves, ami through how
many phases my whole conception of
life Iras passed in these fourteen years,
each of which I thought purfectlv true
While it IS'ied; how much that then
appeared great now seems small to
me; how much venerable that ldlion
mocked? What new luatago may
have budded, unfolded, Withered ami
tallen away from our inner being be
fore another fourteen years have
passed and 13t*5 lias come, if we Jive
to see if! I cannot understand how
u man who reflects upon himself and
who ncither kitbws God nor desires
to know him— I rahnftt understand
iiow such a man eu.i endure a Lite so
burdened with euuiii and self-con
icmpt, I cannot tod how I used to
bear it, if I again obliged to live
as f nitre did, without God, without
you and (be children.-1 really ilo not
see why I sbobtd not cast this life
aside like a dirty shirt. Yet this is the
life that most of My dcffiiaiStances
live. When Igo thi'ongh them sing
ly and ask myself what rea‘*6lV So-itM
so may have for living oti', fci‘
troubles and vexation, for in’tVigkii’iVgf
and spying arouml, I can find no ali
[swer. l)o not 'conclude from ibis
scflbme Ilia IT (mi in a black mood
oil llie contrary, I feel as we df> when
looking at the yellowing leaves on *
briglit September day—well and
cheerful, but touched with sadness;-
with homesickness, with a longih
for forest, lake and moorland, for you
and the children, all blended with the
sunset and Beethoven.”
OIVK .WOMAN A KAIR SHOW.
By what principle of justice is it
that women in* many of our cities
get only two-thirds as much pay as
men, and in many cases only half?
Here is giganlio injustice—that for
work equally well, if not better done,
woman receives far less compensation
than man. Start with the National
Government. Women clerks in Wash
ington get S9OO for doing that for
which men receive SI,BOO. The
wheel of oppression is rolling over
tlie necks of thousands of women who
are at this moment in despair about
what they are to do. Many oi the
largest mercantile establishments of
our cities are accessory to these abom
inations, and from their large estab
lishments there are scores of souls
being pitched off into death, and thair
employers know It. Is there a God?
Will Ilure be a judgment ? I tell you
if God rises up to redress women's
wrongs many of our large establish
ments will be swallowed up quicker
than a South American earthquake
ever took down a city. God will
catch these oppras-ors he! ween t ha two
mill-stones of his wrath and grind
them to powder!
Why is it that a female principal in
a school only gets sß2sfordoing work
for which a male principal gets sl,-
CSO? 1 hear fcom all. this land the
wail of womanhood. Man lias noth
ing to answer to that wail hut flat,
tcries. He says she is an angel. She
is not; she knows she is not. She is
a human being whoget3 hungry when
she has no food, and cold when she
has no tire. Give her no flatteries;
give her justice!—Talmage.
DeKalb News: P. Sanders, the vet
eran bloekader of Banks county, paid
Chamblee a short visit Thursday
night, returning home after an ah
senecs of twenty-one days. He has
been attending the United States
Court. He stopped while in Atlanta
with the honorable jailer of Fulton
county. He is said to-be nearly 80years
old and has been before the courts
twenty limes, more or lets. He says
Mr. Speer is ungrateful, and don’t
remember his past favors. When he
was a candidate for Congress his corn
juioe was used freely lo assist him.
WASHINGTON, GA„ FRIDAY", JUNE 19, 1885.
DYIWO W**Ot7T CJOHPLAINT,
A Pitiful piotUtP of po-rrtv ta aTsusuisnt
Saras*.
lUtWJI World.)
lirMMi idge Street is not a fas
cinating sy*#*, It doesn’t blossom like
a rose. A six slwvv caravansa
ry rises out of h*V dliHc.lv of a street,
and the visitor wfrtf to looking for
Mrs Frank understands that he has to
climb to tiie top of it. for there is no
elevators at No. 143 Kldrigo street.
So lie takes out* glauce at the.street
itself,-with-its long line of disabled
vehicles ami ash barrels, and scream
ing troops of Arab children who dart
about and light like sparrowg and
tlien be plunges inty No. 143. Thd
hallways are dark uml noisome. Tho
wal a arc frescoed bore and thir ivith
the cartoons of the street hoys. A
black streak tells how high their dir
ty hands can reach. There is one of
them mixing mortar ivitli a broken
parasol at the foot of the stair*. The
smell is secutic ami greasy. An oil
lUiTat-eis on everything, anil there,
art: suggestions of a cellar and cooking
cabbage aud codfish ami stale oniou
running in little eddies of their >ivn
round ids head as lie puts his hand
on the balustrade, and then with
drawing it wipes it oflV
Five flights, cacli one greasier and
darker than the other, in spite of the
cracked skylight through which two
or three tlirlv rays come, and he be
gins to feel it in his knees before he
reaches tho top. But thore is a con
fused hum of litv all round him,
Doors open and shut, frowsy heads
look out suspiciously and disappear.
Strange gusts ot music from aucor
deons and asperating sounds from
suincboody who may bo beating bis
wife, and the unceasing overtones of
sick children in uncomfortable rooms
and pet silent mothers in dishabille,
ami fathers ouCpf work.
We?), It’s tlie regular palpitating
biif'ow that wo call a tenement house.
Wat's 'all. Away up
jib two room’s hack live—wo have to
say she lives,there are no other words-
Mrs. Frank. Some body had told a
brief story of her destitution in tho
World, and the simple story brought
a small remittance from a sympathiz
ing friend. A knock on the door
brought a weak invitation to “Come
in.” The visitor felt a moment for
the knob and then opened the door.
A narrow apartment kitchen recep
tion-room, bed room in one, almost
destitute of furniture, but scrupu
lousby clean. A tireless stove, that
seemed to have been cold a long while.
A chair or two, and there on the bed
a sick woman with wan eyes, a child
on her breast. She shrank a little at
the intrusion of a stranger. Her face
is Intelligent anil soft’ but is marked
with the lines of care and trouble and
pain. Puerperal fever and poverty
was what the physician reported. A
pitiless combination that.
The visitor drew a cliairup to tiie
bed and sat down. A woman’s deli
cate sense that her destitution was
somehow. on exhibition, gave
slight flush. Yet tier a it
was quite true, as Ihe paper had
staled, that she was very poor, She
l timed her head a little for a moment
and the thin coverlet over her heaved
once or twice. As she did so the tine
light brown hair billowed over the
pillor. ‘‘Very poor,” site repealed,
“but wedid not expect to become
objects of charily.”
There were two little girls in the
room ; one may have, been three, the
other ten. The eldest stood at the
bedside and stared vacantly at the vis--
itor. The other played with a piece
of string fastened to the leg of the
stove.
“Ten days I have been in bed,” she
said, “helpless, and my poor husband
has been looking for work. He is a
tailor, but oh, ho is deaf and dumb
and it is hard for him to make him
believe. When he had work he got
along very nicely. I helped him all
Icouldjaml we mades7 and sßawdftk.
That kept us comfortably. But when
I got sick lie lost his work.
She stopped a moment. The little
girl looked from her mother’s face
into that of the visitor with something
like an expectantawe. Her little im
agination was investing him with
some kind of power and succor. Then
she woman went on with her story.
Her husband was industrious. They
had struggled along happily enough
until the misfortune oarne. She put
her hand outside the bed-clothes. Her
long, while fingers marked the nec-
jiie pricks of her industry. She had
told her story. Not altogether with
her rnguth—some of it came inarti
culately. The long solitary days with
hungry..children agd her fever, only
fo see jier tired husband come back
•t night ami make his eloquently
uiute signsjof failure ,and sit down so
disconsoiale.at the window where she
oould not see Ids distress. Bhe could
not and would not toll of the weari
ness of those long days, She counted
t|)o hours on the pulses of life that
came th)biigh her window. The bells
rang, voices of tlie schoool chil
dren came lip to her. The one rav of
sunlight traveled across tlie room and
she saw it die out day after day with
(lie same pal id |u>pelessuoss over there
on theoak waiuscolting, and the girls
came to the bedside and asked when
papa would come home aud it lie
would bring their supper, and then,
weak as @he was, she turned over, so
as not to show them her distress,
But alio did not complain even to
tlie visitor. Inhere was no plaint in
her weak voice. There was no de
spair in Iter long-brown eyes. But
sho was awfully tired. The visitor 101 l
his little sum of money sent to the
World. lie .kissed tlie little girl and
hurried away down the dark stairs.
When he got to the organ
grinder ws playing “The Old Ken
tucky Home,” i-n.l a groupeof Arab
iij niphs were going it liands albrouml
tothemerry sound:, Nym Ciuxkee.
HF-H Com
(Clara liollfl, in Clndlllnsti Knuulrt*.)
Just the fuiniiost tiling that Iki hap
pened among our fashionable girls
foe a decade, surely, was at one of tho
several fashionable bathing establish
ments which are patronized now by
wealth and lel.diye./i'ltis Is the time for
learning to slt imitpo, If one means to
astonish the Uu(c|i gaAii's at New Fort
.And Long jHrspch this, summer.
Judging by she nnigbe? Of pupils in
these schools of swimming, tlVeto will
•fetflir e of feminine expertness itf (lie
surly brine than ever before. Hut t
know of one girl who has relinquished
all ambition in that line, ami it is
about bur that I set out to write.
She wan a stranger in town until a
few months ago, when .she was intro
duced into our best society by a faul
tily whoso backing is all-powerful.
She was quite pretty and a heap sty
lish, but site had a qtiecrly limpcring
gait, as though one of her feet was
somehow Incapable. And yet she
danced with niraberlcss anil grace,
and roile on horseback, played law
tennis, and never alluded ever so re
motely to any pedal ilisablmont. Well,
I was in tlie natatorium when she
was one of a party of girls. We all
wore stockings, belted blouses, anil
loose trousers, with natty oil-skin
caps drawn sightly over onr heads to
save the hair from wetting.
“I expect to make an cxcecdcntly
fine swimmer,” said tills giilily crea
ture to me in a tone of quiet but per
fect confidence.
•‘Anil why are you so spire of it?” I
ventured to ask.
“Oh, I (lout exactly know,” she
murmured, “eqcept that I feel that I
shall he more buoyant in the water
than most of you. I have never trim)
it, but you shall sec lir.w 1 distance
you in the art of swimming.”
Well, tiie teacher.ranged us in a row
and commanded us to plunge from
brink of the artificial pond into the
water. The depth was not up to tho
chin of tlie shortest pupil,as ho ex
ptaincil, and so there was no danger.
Hf we did not float —as most of uy
wouldn't, bciug novices—all wc had
tcilo was to stand on our feet, and
our heads would come above the sur
face,
“One, two, three—dive!” lie com
manded.
Thirteen heads splashed above the
water, twenty-gig feet flickered in the
air for an instant, anil then tho basin
became a troubled pool indeed, for
everybody scrambled to an upright
posture save one. Twelve heads ap
peared above the water, and in their
midst one leg extended in the air..
Tlicgiri l to whom it belonged was
struggllngand splashing underneath.
Tlie professor saw that something cu
rious was the matter. lie leaped in
and brought her to tho platform. She
was tho girl Who had bragged to me
ot her natural ability to become a
swimmer. The reason at once of her
high expectation anil her low failure
was exposed, The leg with which
we had seen her habitually limp was
cork.
TEE POOR AND THE! RICH.
Tho conflict between capital and
labor is as old as history itself
and, in all probability will continuo
indefinitely. The man who spends
all lie earns as lie goes along does not
become a capitalist; the man who de
nies himself of present gratification
in order that he may have something
laid by for the future docs. It nat
urally comes to pass that the man
whs has eaten liis cake in a little
while become envious of the man who
stilt has his cake loft and wants tho
latter to divide. .
While no amount of moralizing r
argument will allay tiiis antagonism,
which is imbedded in tho very nature
of humanity, it is well at times to look
closely at tlie relative positions occu
pied by th two opposing forces as
compared wi.li former periods still
within the memory of people of ad
vanced years. It is an ojd cry that
the poor are growing poorer and tiie
rich richer. Is it true? What pro
port ion qf the rich men of this city in
herited their wealth and have increas
ed it? What proportion of the For
tunes of to-dav will bo perpetuated
and increased by tlie descendants cf
their present possessors? a careful
investigntion into these features of
tho increase and stability of wealth
of tiiis comparatively conservative
city is in tlie hands ot those who ac
cumulated il thcraselvos, 'and it is
finite likely that the most of it will
be scattered to ilie winds by tho next
generation. On the contrary, the
gray-liaired liiatl of itf-day knows
that tlie workingmen of the present
live in better houses, better furnished
and that they aie fed and clothed
bsftcr by long odils than tlie working
men of half a century ago.
Anollior test could bo offered of
the relative p’ogititm of dubor anil
capital now and fiftjy yeans ago which
would be worth considering. Money
ifhd labor have over been marketable
commodities anil the demand regu
lates the price of both. Tho rate of
interest upon the one and tho price
which the other will command give
a fair test of tlie relative earning
power of each. When was the rale
of interest over as law as at present ?
When was there over as much money
seeking profitable investment as now.
When tho legal rate of interest has
not varied much in titty years, the
actual rate lias fallen from ten or
twelve per cent, to from three to (four
per emit. On tho contrary, how
many farm laborers work for tlie
eight and ten dollars a month and
their board which were the ruling
wages fifty years ago? Tho actual
rate of wages paid by all branches
of business lias advanced very ma
terially in that time anil it cannot be
shown that their purchasing power
has declined.
Tlie men who agitate for a division
of present accumulations of capital
and the Inauguration of a commun
istic era keep these very pertinent
facts entirely out of sight. But the
rnen to whom they appeal witli their
windy exhortations to destroy tlie
present order of things cannot afford
to ignore them. The truth of it is
that tho wealthy men of the present
generation in this country began
life poor and tho wealthy men of the
of the next generation will* ba ro
erulled tronrr tlie ranks of tlie "bovs
whose parents are poor now. And
the average condition of the working
man of to-day is beyoild compare in
advance of what it lias been at any
former period.—Philadelphia Times.
It is said that ex-Govcrnor Ilale ot
New llampßliirc, who failod a lew
days ago for something less than sl,-
000,000, paid $25,000 for tlie office of
Governor tlie first lime he was elected
aud $30,000 the second time. The sal
ary it only SI,OOO per annum, and the
salary generally goes to the Govern
or’s private secretary. Mr. Jlale paid
pretty high for tho honor of being
Governor of the old “granite” Slate
for two yiars, and perhaps (malicious
ly asserted that when he was
required to sign some important rail
road bibs which had passed the Leg
islature, lie caked a conference ot
those who were interested in them
and mado a statement of the amount
that ho had paid out to get the Gov
ernorship, anil that these railroad
men thought that it was unjust that
he should have been bled so freely.
Did they not make iiim feel that lie
had spent his money wisely ?
NO. 25
THE! VANITY OF HEN.
Bight Oat of Every Tsn Running Around
With Hlrrora In Their Pocket*.
(From the Sen Prancfeco Deily Aite.)
“Who buys them ?” asked a report
er in a Kearney street shop
pointiinr to a lot of tiny pocket mir
rors, witli nail cleaners, tooth-pick
and comb ail complete,
“I suppose you think tho ladies aro
our best customers,” said the notion
man, “but it is not so. Men, sir—vam
men—are the piokers-up of these un
considered trifles.”
“Pretty men ?” inquired tlie report
er.
Tho salesman grinned. “It don’t
matter much how they look,” lie said,
“whether they are apes or A polios;
they want a pocket mirror all the same
They retire every houror so to a secret
place to admire themselves. Talk of
the vanity of woman! It pales, sir,
it fades away into insignificance by
comparison with tho admiration tho
majority of men have for their own
mugs.”
“Could you mention—not for pub
lication, of course, but for individual
satisfaction—tho names of some df
these purchasers ?”
Tho notion man looked grave. “I
could not give away tho secrets of my
prison liotise,” ho said solemnly. “I
'n> Tar B’ust a nowspaper man, and in
the present regard I hold tlie conti
donoo these gentleman ,havo reposed
in me as sacred. Why, there afe soma
half a dozen who entemUifug a great
respect for my critical judgment 01
physical beauty, step in hero every
day to enquire how they are looking.
Then it is, ‘Am I palo to-day, Jim V
or, ‘Do you think my color Is too
high, Jim ?’ or, ‘That left eyo brow, is
growing a triflo heavy; don’t you
think I’d bettor have it trimmed otf a
bit?’ If I say your color is too high
my friend is off to the barber’s for a
a dab of powder—but this is a dead se
cret—wc accomodate him in tin’s shop.
If ho is too pale wo tinge him up.
It’s wonderful postively wonderful.
Now the ugliest men are the toughestJ
If there is the slightest blemish in dl
pocket mirror they won’t lake it, bfl
cause, forsooth, it may not faithfulll
reproduce their bright, pearl beauty^
“But there arc different degrees of
vanity among those male boauties,
are there not ?”
“No, sir; there is but ono degree
and that is the superlative, but there
are different degrees of candor. Some
are modest and will declare that their
moustaches or beards are always get*
ting tangled. Now, there’s a good
looking blonde railroad agent on
Montgomery street who bought a six
by-four mirror from me the other day,
which lie keeps in his breast pocket.
He is a glutton about his personal
beauty, lie is; but a real estate man,
a fair stout young person, whose of
fice is near him, lias found out that
lie lias this glass and begs the loan of
it a dozen tunes a day.”
“Then, as a matter of fact, you have
more customers among gentlemen for
those pretty little articles than among
the other sex?”
“Five to one, sir; the percentage of
those who carry pocket-mirrors is
small among ladies, but eight out of
every dozen men have ono stowed
away in Hie vest pockot. “fyl ly,” con
tinued tlie notion mail, “some big‘
smirking fellows—business men—
have come in here and asked mo if I
could teach them how to blush. Just
think of it. Follows in the forties,
sir, who have not known a blush for
twenty years. Believe it would ho
becoming to them it they could flush,
up like a moss roso when a girl glan
ces at them. The ancient rounder got
hold eftlic secret and made all the
rest hopping mad to learn it Yon
won’t give it away ? Well, when lie
wanted to blush he’d jab a pin iuto
his leg and keep his mouth shut.”
“What did the mouth have to do
with it?”
“Because the pin would make him
foci like swearing and keeping back
the the effort that suf
fused lus cheek. That’s tlie true bus
iness, B’hclp mo. Do you want to
look at any nice pocket-combs to-day
No. Then excuu me, for here’s a dude
that docs,” and tlie philosopher re
sumed his professional air and advan
ced on the customer with interlaced
fingers and a captivating smile.
Walker Blaine, the eldest son of his
father, is said lo bo the most depressed
member of the Blaine family over
Cleveland's election.