The News & Observer

GRANT'S PEACE MESSAGE AND THE CONFEDERACY

The Address of Editor Clark Howell at the Grant Birthday Dinner in New York Last Night.

LET US HAVE PEACE--THY PEACE IS COME

That Famous Conference at Hampton Roads.

THE PART GRANT TOOK IN IT

He Was Always a Worthy Enemy and a Generous Friend.

MASON AND DIXON'S LINE WIPED OUT

The Peace of a Prosperous People Permeates the Land and Lights All Sections of a Reunited Nation in its Holy Glow.

(By the Associated Press.)

New York, April 27.--At the annual banquet of the Grant Monumental Association, held at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel tonight, Hon. Clark Howell, editor of the Atlanta Constitution, responded to the toast: "Grant As Peace Factor." Mr. Howell said:

MR. HOWELL'S SPEECH.

I am not unmindful, Mr. Chairman, that in paying tribute to the man in honor of whose memory we are assembled here tonight, I am environed by circumstances that, under some conditions, would embarrass the frank utterances of my own sentiments and clothe my words with import not their own.

I come to speak with you of the lessons learned from the life of a leader--and I am of the people against whom his legions were led to victory and around whom the withering embrace of his iron arm was closed in the grip of war. There is scarce a valley in the Southern States that does not shelter in its bruised bosom reluctant monuments to the triumph of that great soldier--General Grant.

But I have not come to speak of the accomplishments of war, which have rightly placed his name among those of the great warriors of the world. I am not here to paint a picture of the mighty tide that swept on and on under his masterful direction until all who opposed were overwhelmed in the culminating flood at Appomattox. It would ill become me to exult in the memory of his triumphant leadership of victorious hosts as they returned to joyous homes under the streaming banners of victory.

It is natural and proper, Mr. Chairman, that those who shared his sympathies and dangers, that those and the sons of those who followed his famous lead in well-fought battles, should keep forever the luster of his military fame, and should keep forever living the memories and incidents of his war renown.

GRANT'S GENIUS AND COURAGE.

Those who offered their bullet-riddled bodies as bulwarks in the vain effort to stem the conquering tide of his cohorts were testimony to his genius and his courage. There is not today in the fragmentary ranks of the beaten heroes who once wore the gray a single soldier who would raise his arm to still the cheers those victories have won. But above the din of successful arms, beneath the garlands of glorious victories, beyond the glad huzzas of a preserved nation welcoming its martial heroes home, the dirge of those homeless heroes who, after surrender, buried their abandoned hopes with a cause forever lost, bids me turn from this phase of that momentous life to another that is not trumpeted by the raucous blast of war, but which is sounded in the sweet and soothing songs of peace. There is no one familiar with the history of our country who is not aware of the mighty part played by General Grant in the epoch of the civil war; but there are few even among his own people who realize the intense influence his life exerted in the epoch of peace. There is not a school-boy in knee-breeches, but who can tell you what General Grant did to prevent the successful dissolution of the union: there are few statesmen who can tell you how much he did to procure its peaceful restoration.

No service this great chieftain ever rendered our common country in his most military achievements can equal the great good accomplished by him in his consistent campaigns for practical peace.

If there was genius in the pen that wrote the terms of unconditional surrender to the falling garrison at Fort Donelson, there was greater genius still exemplified in the letter that made possible the peace conference at Hampton Roads. If there was grandeur in the scorching sword that swept Virginia as a sea of flame, yet grander still the hand too generous to take the stricken sword of a great but vanquished foe! If there was glory in the thunder of the voice that threw the columns of a mighty army into the shock of war, far greater was the glory of the tongue that framed the message, born of love, crying to a dissevered people: "Let us have peace!"

HIS GREAT PEACE MESSAGE

In the living reality of practical reunion and of perfect peace, no man can measure the mighty power that fraternal message wrought in shaping the destiny of a country then emerging from the chaos and confusion of a civil war. It spoke the patriot spirit of American union. Without it a union of States welded in the fire of war and held together only by the sword! An empty mockery of union in all save name! A union without sympathy of sentiment; without unity of heart; without a common inspiration.

The north a Russia and the South her Poland. England in the Northern heart, and Ireland in ours.

To those who are familiar with the people of the South and with the conditions leading to the four years' war it is unnecessary to protest that the vanquished South could never have played Carthage to a conquering Rome. Her people had breathed the inspiration of independence from the hills that cradled Washington and Jefferson and Patrick Henry. Jealous in the preservation of what they believed constitutional and hereditary rights, they were prodigal in all that was required to maintain those rights.

These Southern ancestors of mine had much of the spirit now better known as Northern enterprise and thrift. Finding that the genial climate of the Southern slope was better suited to the successful adaptation of negro slavery--an institution inaugurated by their Northern brethren--they did not hesitate to adopt the traffic, nor to utilize on Southern plantations the slaves who had proved unprofitable property in Northern fields.

Nor were the statesmen of the South less slow to profit by the political example established by their contemporaries of the Northern States. They witnessed with observant eye the birth of the doctrine of secession as it sprung from the loins of New England and first claimed life in Hartford, the Charleston of the first secession. They listened with grave attention when Quincy, of Massachusetts, in the halls of Congress fifty years prior to the Southern secession, made the first formal declaration of the right of secession in opposition to the admission of Louisiana and West Florida as States, that "if this bill passes, it is virtually a dissolution of this union: it will free the States from their moral obligations and as it will be the right of all, so it will be the duty of some definitely to prepare for a secession--amicably, if they can, violently, if they must."

NO CORNER IN SECESSION.

I mention these events, Mr. Chairman, in no spirit of pride that the South had no corner on the secession market, and in no spirit of regret for the failure of the principles once advocated by the Roundheads who were rocked in the "cradle of the Revolution," and which principles were many years afterwards adopted by the Cavalier convention of Charleston. I cite them merely as incidents that played their part in shaping the convictions of the Southern people concerning State rights and the right of secession--issues then offering ample room for honest difference, but which have been settled for all time to come by the covenant of the cannon, sealed by the nation's blood.

It was the spirit of fraternity, embodied in the immortal message of Grant that consecrated that covenant and established its sacred arbitrament beyond appeal. It was this spirit that conquered forever the doctrine of absolute State rights: this spirit that conquered forever the restless ghost of secession; this spirit that converted the invincible followers of Lee and Stonewall Jackson into loyal citizens of a reunited republic. Responsive to the spirit of that message and stirred by its generous impulse, they sought the broad shelter of the flag they once assailed, and its sacred folds have healed the bitter wounds of war.

At Versailles, after Sedan, Germany stood in the glittering paraphernalia of an armored giant, with one hand on the throat of Paris and the other pointing to the hungry document demanding the most prodigious indemnity an exultant victor ever exacted of prostrate victim.

AFTER APPOMATTOX--WHAT?

Not so at Appomattox! Instead of exaction--liberality! Instead of Siberia--again the tranquil fields of home; again the music of familiar waters; again the chirp of the cricket on the hearthstone and the melody of childrens' prattle around the mother's knee! Instead of St. Helena--Washington! Not Washington as the stronghold of an armed foe, but as the common capital of a reunited country, where victor and vanquished met on equal terms of fellowship. Washington, the capital from which, a few years later, a Federal major, as President of the United States, wrote one day the order making brigadier generals of the nephew of Robert E. Lee and the son of Ulysses S. Grant:

Inevitable Appomattox! Better that it had come sooner, since it had to come; but better for the greatness of our country that coming late its bloody field of battle was consecrated by the covenant of the republic's peace!

It was singularly significant of the love of peace inherent in the man, that its first public manifestation appeared when the fortunes of war had almost crowned his arms with the laurels of success. The Hampton Roads conference afforded the first formal expression of any effort to harmonize the warring sections. For four long years the best blood of both sections had drenched the fair fields of the South when that conference was called to put an end to further fruitless sacrifice. The unfortunate failure in the purpose of the conference between President Lincoln, of the Federal Government and Vice President Alexander Stephens, of the Confederacy, is familiar history to all: but few know that to General Grant is due the fact that the actual conference was made possible.

HAMPTON ROADS CONFERENCE.

The official records of the war have but recently established the important part played by General Grant in preventing an untimely abandonment of negotiations and in paving the way for the accomplishment of an official conference. Seward had been sent to Fortress Monroe early in February, 1865, to meet Stephens and Hunter and Campbell, the Confederate Commissioners under well-defined limitations from President Lincoln to confine negotiations to what he termed "the three indispensables." Major Thomas T. Eckert had preceded Seward on the same mission and under similar restrictions.

At the preliminary conference the Confederate commissioners requested a conference with President Lincoln at Washington, and Major Eckert replied that the conference could not proceed except under the terms outlined in his instructions. The conference commissioners, unwilling to negotiate for peace under prescribed limitations, declined to proceed with the conference.

President Lincoln, in submitting the correspondence to Congress said that at this stage:

"I was about to recall Seward and Eckert, when the following telegram from General Grant was shown me."

The telegram read:

"I am convinced, upon conversation with Messrs. Stephens and Hunter, that their intentions are good and their desire sincere to restore peace and union. I have not felt myself at liberty to express even views of my own or to account for my reticence. This has placed me in an awkward position which I would have avoided by not seeing them in the first instance. I fear now their going back without any expression from any one in authority will have a bad influence. I am sorry that Mr. Lincoln cannot have the interview."

On this President Lincoln said to Congress:

"The dispatch of General Grant changed my purpose, and I telegraphed him as follows: 'Say to the gentlemen I will meet them personally at Fortress Monroe as soon as I can get there.'"

LINCOLN AND STEPHENS.

And he did get there, and at once, and the whole story of that conference in the rolling waters of Hampton Roads, within hailing distance of the scene where ironclads first met in battle in the encounter of the Monitor and the Merrimac, affords the most interesting recital of our unwritten history.

I have heard from Mr. Stephens' own lips how the Southern commoner, a dwarf in stature, but a giant in intellect, upon reaching the cabin of the boat, stopped to unwind the coverings which protected his frail body from the bleak sea winds, and how, after gloves and comforters and scarfs and greatcoats were removed, he was met by President Lincoln with the characteristic greeting: "Well, Stephens, that's the littlest nubbin I ever saw from such a quantity of shucks."

I have seen the half-regretful pathos in his wonderful eyes as he told how Lincoln, animated by his strong love of country, had said to the commissioners:

"Let me write the one word, union,' at the head of our agreement and you may supply the rest."

The conference was fruitless of practical results on account of arbitrary limitations of power in prescribing the conditions of peace. But Mr. Stephens believed to the day of his death that had the commission been clothed with plenary power, peace would have been accomplished on a basis of union, and of mutual concessions in other details of difference.

Perhaps so: perhaps not! Perhaps it was best that the war should drag its cruel length along to its tragic culmination. Perhaps it was best that an issue born almost with the republic itself, and that had baptized its devotees in the blood of brothers, should only find its fitting death on the bloody battle field. But long after the echoes of war have died away and the efforts of the conference are forgotten, the world of peace will do reverence to the memory of the great soldier who, almost on the eve of final victory, sheathed his dread sword and stretched out his sword-arm with open hand to strive for peace! In the midst of the mad lust of war, leaving for a time the leadership of exultant cohorts drunk with victory, himself to gain all by prolonging the conflict for pronounced conquest, his voice, attuned to the roar of battle, was raised for peace.

THE PEACE OF A NATION.

And so Mr. Chairman, while the battle scarred bosoms of our Southern valleys bear unwilling testimony to the deeds of this great soldier as he marched beneath the flag of Mars, every hill that trembled to the thunder of his guns gives back the welcome echoes of his greeting: "Let us have peace."

The hearts of her people have caught and held the inspiration of the clarion call of fellowship and union, which, growing in strength and volume as the years go by, is now the grand pean of a nation's peace.

When the recent call to arms brought volunteers to offer their lives in the common cause of the union against Spain, the patriotism of our people found quick expression in the response they made to the drum-beat of the republic, and the

sons of Federals and Confederates alike poured out their heart's blood in the common cause. None questioned the loyalty and patriotism of his comrade in arms, and Northern boys and Southern boys marched shoulder to shoulder under the Stars and Stripes to the mingled strains of "Dixie" and "Yankee Doodle."

Under the tropical sun of Cuba and the Philippines, they have borne between them the sacred ark of the nation's covenant, brave and true and patriots alike, moved by the common impulse of their country's love and the eternal glory of its mission!

The peace that General Grant commanded has come at last, and it is an abiding peace.

It is the peace whose sacred benediction cast the halo of its glory across the continent, when amid the solemn forest sentiment of Mt. Gregor, the Angel of Death gently touched the summons of the Divine Commander. But it did not come until the music of a reunited nation's voice, attuned to the melody of sorrow, had fallen upon the eager ears of the stricken hero.

GEN. GRANT'S DEATH.

Picture him as he sat, wan and haggard, surrounded by silent nature, arrayed in all the glories of summer splendor, waiting--waiting the inevitable. The winds that had swept the historic battle fields of the South were laden with messages of peace and sympathy from those who but a few years before had been enemies.

What visions must have come to him then! There, trooping up from the mists of the valley came the blue legions which had followed him across the Potomac; and here, down the hillsides, like an avalanche, swept the grey. There was Sheridan, and Thomas, and Meade, and McClellan, and yonder--Lee, and Jackson, and Gordon, and Longstreet. The peal of musketry and the roar of cannon reverberate in the valleys and the mountain brooks become torrents of blood. The clash of arms and the fierce shock of the conflict shakes the world!

But now the smoke of battle lifts, and the scene changes! There are green valleys and happy homes where peace and contentment reign. High above all floats the Stars and Stripes--the emblem of a united country--stronger now than ever and more deeply rooted in the affections of her people.

The peace he would have has come, and resting as quietly as a babe on its mother's breast, the listless eyes of a hero in war and a patriot in peace are closed and his soul takes flight to the great hereafter to join the united band of other heroes of both sides as comrades in everlasting glory and eternal companionship.

And when, a few days later, he was lowered to his last rest by hands which had been raised against him in war: when veterans who wore the grey stood in tears beside those who wore the blue, it proved, indeed, that past issues were but ghosts of dreams and that--

"Brave minds, howe'er at war, are secret friends:

Their generous discord with the battle ends:

In peace they wonder whence dissension rose

And ask how souls so like could e'er be foes."

The peace of a prosperous people permeates the land and lights all sections of the nation in its holy glow. Mason and Dixon's Line marks no more trace in the geography of our common country than does the equator mark the silvery surface of our Southern seas.

"Let us have peace!"

A happy and contented people repeat the benediction and cry back to the great heart that now is still in the peace that passeth all understanding, "Thy peace is come!"