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always been snugly berthed, or se
curely anchored, turns upon me with
self-righteous scorn, misjudges every
part of the record, denies me the com
mon merit of ordinary sincerity, at
tributes conduct apparently merito
rious to the basest motives, banishes
me from the company of those who
have tried to do something for ■ hu
manity and leaves it to be inferred
that had it not been for him my
“tricks and machinations” would
have hurried dear old Georgia to per
dition.
Yet —listen, my countrymen!—thii
preacher, who claims so much for ser
mons and letters in 1884; this preach
er who holds a young lawyer to ridi
cule and contempt because he did not
write and speak in 1884, deliberatelv
refuses to give credit to the young
lawyer who had at least four years
previously talked and written for pro
hibition in McDuffie county and had
helped in every way to create the very
sentiment to which Warren Candle'-
addressed himself several years later.
The files of The McDuffie Journal
prove this. If those files are missing,
my own scrapbook will supply the
proof.
The Preacher and the Lawyer.
The preacher persistently rails at
the young lawyer, claiming immense
credit to himself for having done easy
work that was in the line of his duty
—work which a thousand other Meth
odist preachers have done without
claiming any special credit whatever;
yet the record shows that the young
lawyer had already done, several
years earlier, the work which helped
to give McDuffie a prohibition law
that was already on the statute book
when Warren Candler, with heroic
daring, came into the county to preach
in favor of the law!
All nobility of purpose was Cand
ler’s—none of it actuated Watson.
The unselfishness and spirit of
consecration were Candler’s—Wat
son was ever intent upon “grand
stand plays and political profit-tak
ing.”
This is so because Brother Candler
virtually says so himself. And, of
course, what Brother Candler says,
goes—“ You hear it?”
Loftily domiciled in a bishopric, the
preacher who knew how to “get ou”
looks superciliously down upon the of
ficeless Watson, and says, with a
cruel sneer:
44 Yoi> were not sincere, as I was.
You never risked anything or in
curred martyrdom, as I did. You es
poused no unpopular causes ten yeays
too soon, as 1 did. You never suf
fered in loneliness and sadness long
years of unjust isolation and persecu
tion for opinion’s sake —as I did.
Hence yuu are unclean. Out with
you.”
God give us patience! Let us only
say to the bishop:
4 ‘You also are a Good Samaritan,
and you have poured oil into a strick
en brother’s wounds, but it was the
oil of vitriol.”
The bishop says that in the cam
paign which resulted in driving the
open saloon out of McDuffie count}
44 there was no room for stage-play
ing or political profit-taking.” He
then asks why I did not speak out
then? Why 1 did not write articles
then ?
Well, that is just what I did dp,
bishop.
I did my share of the jaw-work,
WATSON’S WEEKLY JEFFERSON! V
and I had a newspaper controversy.
I wrote for prohibition, against the
very able Colonel W. D. Tutt, and an
other writer, who signed himself
“Junius,” and who was supposed to
be Mr. John Stockton, one of the
former editors of The Augusta Chron
icle.
So you see, bishop, that in my case
you are disposed to be rather too
severe, too uncharitable and too ready
to suspect improper motives. You
assail me before making sure of your
facts, and then, when I try to put
yon right, you refuse to believe me.
Looking back upon these age-worn
articles in my scrap-book, and remem
bering that I, a mere tyro in discus
sion, managed to come out fairly well
in a tilt with two veterans like Colo
nel Bill Tutt and Mr. John Stockton,
1 am fully as proud of that record, of
about thirty years ago, as you say
yon ere of your record of 1896.
Dr. Candler, addressing his fellow
churchmen, says “You owe the pol
iticians nothing. You would have
won your victory earlier but for some
of their doings.”
Who are these politicians, to
whom the prohibitionists “owe noth
ing’? Does the state of Georgia owe
nothing to Seaborn Wright? Noth
ing to Judge W. A. Covington, noth
ing to Dr. L. G. Hardnfan? Nothing
to John Temple Graves? Nothing to
the brilliant young cartoonist and
writer, Gordon Nye? Does Bishop
Candler know so little of the people
of Georgia as to think that at the
wave of his imperial hand they will
deny credit and honor to those who
have fairly won their spurs? He
mentions Henry Grady—has he words
of praise for none but the dead? Is
a flower never to be offered to the liv
ing? Is no smile of approval, no word
of recognition and appreciation, ever
to warm the heart and cheer the soul
of the fighter while he fights?
“You would have won your victory
earlier but for some of their doings.’*
Yes, we would have won the victory
eleven years earlier had it not been
for those good honest prohibitionists
who bolted the track in 1896.
When the heat moderates in Tex
arkana, Texas, I want Dr. Candler to
wipe his marble brow real dry, and
toll us why a prohibition law, secured
under the leadership of Seaborn
Wright in 1896, would not have been
just as good for the “sacred cause”
as the prohibition law secured under
the lead of Seaborn Wright in 1907.
I don’t expect the bishop to do this
now, for it’s too hot —not in Geor
gia, but in Texarkana, Tex.
Who Got the Benefit?
Who got the benefit of the bishop’s
influence in 1896?
Here is his answer:
“The cause of non-partisan and
non-personal prohibition, a cause too
sacred to be prostituted to partisan
ends, and too holy to be used for the
selfish purposes of personal ambi
tion.”
If I had been a bishop, and a pro
hibitionist, and had talked and voted
for Bill Atkinson, in that) campaign, I
have no idea that I could have con
jured up such a lovely array of
blessed words to conceal the true
nature of my act. There is some
thing deliciously comical in the use
of all these unctuous, self-righteous,
self-complacent terms in connection
with a vote for Bill Atkinson. The
cause of* non-partisan, non-personal
I
prohibition was too sacred, too holy
to be prostituted to the selfish end
and personal ambition of Seaborn
Wright; and, therefore, Bishop Cand
ler whirled in and rebuked Satan and
all his work by casting a resolute, an
gelic vote for Bill Atkinson. Lord
have mercy on us all!
Ah, bishop, you say that had Sea
born Wright been elected in 1896 pro
hibition would have been held respon
sible for all the populist “vagaries,
follies and iniquities.” When the
weather moderates in Texarkana.
Texas, please file a bill of particulars.
I want to see a list of these “vaga
ries, follies and iniquities.” I want
to see how many of them William
Bryan has left unappropriated. I
want to see how many of them II ok
Smith has not trespassed upon,
want to see how far you propose to
isolate yourself, bishop.
Why, my dearly beloved brother,
populism has got your democratic
party in the hollow of its hand. Our
principles elected your governor;
nominate your legislature, direct your
public sentiment, and will write your
next national platform. Talk about
populist vagaries, follies and iniqui
ties. Why, bishop, you must have
spoken at random! Bryan has legal
ized his partnership with the popu
lists of Nebraska, will run for presi
dent on a populist platform, and will
build his hopes of election on the pop
ulist votes.
Don’t bear down on us quite so
hard, bishop. You will have to vote
our principles year, or bolt.
Really, bishop, we find, after making
the experiment, that a dose of popu-
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lism, given in a capsule bearing some
other name, is not such a bad idea,
after all. The medicine is so good
that it doesn’t ask the capsule a bit of
odds. Given in a republican cap
sule, populist physic has had a happy
effect on Theodore Roosevelt. Given
in a democratic capsule, the populist
medicine has made a new man out of
W. J. Bryan.
I admit that you, bishop, will be
one of the last to swallow the dose
—capsule or no capsule—but I have
not the least doubt that when you
realize that every dictate of sound
policy suggests that you take your
physic, you will take it. For you are
a wise man in your generation, else
you would not have been at so early
a stage in your career a bishop.
THOMAS E. WATSON.
Thomson, Ga., August 1, 1907.
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