[Speech of Thomas Nelson Page at the twentieth annual dinner of the
New England Society in the City of Brooklyn, December 21, 1899. The
President, Frederic A. Ward, said: "In these days of blessed amity,
when there is no longer a united South or a disunited North, when
the boundary of the North is the St. Lawrence and the boundary of
the South the Rio Grande, and Mason and Dixon's Line is forever
blotted from the map of our beloved country, and the nation has
grown color-blind to blue and gray, it is with peculiar pleasure
that we welcome here to-night a distinguished and typical
representative of that noble people who live in that part of the
present North that used to be called Dixie, of whom he has himself
so beautifully and so truly said, 'If they bore themselves
haughtily in their hour of triumph, they bore defeat with splendid
fortitude. Their entire system crumbled and fell around them in
ruins; they remained unmoved; they suffered the greatest
humiliation of modern times; their slaves were put over them; they
reconquered their section and preserved the civilization of the
Anglo-Saxon.' It is not necessary, ladies and gentlemen, that I
should introduce the next speaker to you, for I doubt not that you
all belong to the multitude of mourners, who have wept real tears
with black Sam and Miss Annie beside the coffin of Marse Chan; but
I will call upon our friend, Thomas Nelson Page, to respond to the
next toast, 'The Debt Each Part of the Country Owes the Other.'"]
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN:--I did not remember that I had written
anything as good as that which my friend has just quoted. It sounded to
me, as he quoted it, very good indeed. At any rate, it is very true,
and, perhaps, that it is true is the reason that you have done me the
honor to invite me here to-night. I have been sitting for an hour in
such a state of tremulousness and fright, facing this audience I was to
address, that the ideas I had carefully gathered together have, I fear,
rather taken flight; but I shall give them to you as they come, though
they may not be in quite as good order as I should like them. The gift
of after-dinner speaking is one I heard illustrated the other day very
well at a dinner at which my friend, Judge Bartlett and I were present.
A gentleman told a story of an English bishop travelling in a
third-class railway carriage with an individual who was swearing most
tremendously, originally, and picturesquely, till finally the bishop
said to him: "My dear sir, where in the world did you learn to swear in
that extraordinary manner?" And he said, "It can't be learned, it is a
gift." After-dinner speaking is a gift I have often envied, ladies and
gentlemen, and as I have not it I can only promise to tell you what I
really think on the subject which I am here to speak about to-night.
I feel that in inviting me here as the representative of the South to
speak on this occasion, I could not do you any better honor than to tell
you precisely what I do think and what those, I in a manner represent,
think; and I do not know that our views would differ very materially
from yours. I could not, if I would, undertake merely to be entertaining
to you. I am very much in that respect like an old darky I knew of down
in Virginia, who on one occasion was given by his mistress some
syllabub. It was spiced a little with--perhaps--New England rum, or
something quite as strong that came from the other side of Mason and
Dixon's Line, but still was not very strong. When he got through she
said, "How did you like that?" He said, "If you gwine to gimme foam,
gimme foam; but if you gwine to gimme dram, gimme dram." You do not want
from me syllabub I am sure.
When I came here I had no idea that I was to address so imposing an
assemblage as this. I had heard about forefathers and knew that there
were foremothers also, but did not know that they were going to grace
this assembly with their presence as they do to-night. When a youngster,
I was told by an old gentleman, before the day of the unhappy
stenographer, "You can go out in the world all right if you have four
speeches. If you have one for the Fourth of July, one for a tournament
address, one to answer the toast to 'Woman,' and the fourth 'to sweep
all creation.'" I thought of bringing with me my Fourth of July speech.
If I had known I was going to address this audience I would have
brought along the one that answered the toast to "Woman."
But I do not know any man in the world better prepared to address you on
the subject of my toast, "The Debt Each Part of the Country Owes the
Other," than myself, for I married a lady from the North. She
represented in her person the blood both of Virginia and of New England.
Her mother was a Virginian and her father a gentleman from New
Hampshire; consequently, as I have two young daughters, who always
declare themselves Yankees, I am here to speak with due gratitude to
both sections, and with strong feeling for both sections to-night.
It seems to me that the two sections which we have all heard talked
about so much in the past, have been gradually merging into one, and
Heaven knows I hope there may never be but one again. In the nature of
things it was impossible at first that there could be only one, but of
late the one great wall that divided them has passed away, and, standing
here facing you to-night, I feel precisely as I should if I were
standing facing an audience of my own dear Virginians. There is no
longer division among us. They say that the South became reconciled and
showed its loyalty to the Union first at the time of the war with Spain.
It is not true; the South became reconciled and showed its loyalty to
the Union after Appomattox. When Lee laid down his arms and accepted the
terms of the magnanimous Grant, the South rallied behind him, and he
went to teach peace and amity and union to his scholars at Lexington, to
the sons of his old soldiers. It is my pride that I was one of the
pupils at that university, which bears the doubly-honored names of
Washington and Lee. He taught us only fealty to the Union and to the
flag of the Union. He taught us also that we should never forget the
flag under which our fathers fought during the Civil War. With it are
embalmed the tears, the holy memories that cluster thick around our
hearts, and I should be unworthy to stand and talk to you to-night as an
honorable man if I did not hold in deepest reverence that flag that
represented the spirit that actuated our fathers. It stood for the
principles of liberty, and, strange as it may seem, both sides, though
fighting under different banners, fought for the same principles seen
from different sides. It has not interfered with our loyalty to the
Union since that flag was furled.
I do not, however, mean to drift into that line of thought. I do not
think that it is really in place here to-night, but I want you to know
how we feel at the South. Mason and Dixon's Line is laid down on no map
and no longer laid down in the memory of either side. The Mason and
Dixon's Line of to-day is that which circumscribes this great Union,
with all its advantages, all its hopes, and all its aspirations. This is
the Mason and Dixon's Line for us to-day, and as a representative of the
South, I am here to speak to you on that account. We do owe--these two
sections do owe--each other a great deal. But I will tell you what we
owe each other more, perhaps, than anything else. When this country was
settled for us it was with sparsely scattered settlements, ranging along
the Atlantic coast. When the first outside danger threatened it, the two
sections immediately drew together. New England had formed her own
confederation, and at the South the Carolinas and Virginia had a
confederation of their own, though not so compact; but the first thing
formed when danger threatened this country was a committee of safety,
which immediately began correspondence among the several colonies, and
it was the fact that these very colonies stood together in the face of
danger, shoulder to shoulder, and back to back, that enabled us to
achieve what we did achieve.
Standing here, on this great anniversary at the very end of the century,
facing the new century, it is impossible that one should not look back,
and equally impossible that one should not look forward. We are just at
the close of what we call, and call rightly, a century of great
achievements. We pride ourselves upon the work this country has
accomplished. We point to a government based upon the consent of the
governed, such as the world has never seen; wealth which has been piled
up such as no country has ever attained within that time, or double or
quadruple that time. It is such a condition of life as never existed in
any other country. From Mount Desert to the Golden Gate, yes, from the
islands which Columbus saw, thinking he had found the East Indies, to
the East Indies themselves, where, even as I speak, the American flag
is being planted, our possessions and our wealth extend. We have, though
following the arts of peace, an army ready to rise at the sound of the
bugle greater than Rome was ever able to summon behind her golden
eagles. We are right to call it a century of achievement. We pride
ourselves upon it. Now, who achieved that? Not we, personally; our
fathers achieved it; your fathers and my fathers; your fathers, when
they left England and set their prows westward and landed upon the
rock-bound coast; when they drew up their compact of civil government,
which was a new thing in the history of the world. We did our part in
the South, and when the time came they staked all that they had upon the
principle of a government based only upon the consent of the governed.
We pride ourselves upon the fact that we can worship God according to
the dictates of our own conscience. We speak easily of God, "whose
service is perfect freedom," but it was not we, but our fathers who
achieved that. Our fathers "left us an heritage, and it has brought
forth abundantly."
I say this to draw clearly the line between mere material wealth and
that which is the real wealth and welfare of a people. We are rich, but
our fathers were poor. How did they achieve it? Not by their wealth, but
by their character--by their devotion to principle. When I was thinking
of the speech I was to make here to-night, I asked the descendant of a
New Englander what he would say was the best thing that the fathers had
left to the country. He thought for a second and made me a wise answer.
He said, "I think it was their character." That is indeed the heritage
they left us; they left us their character. Wealth will not preserve
that which they left us; not wealth, not power, not "dalliance nor wit"
will preserve it; nothing but that which is of the spirit will preserve
it, nothing but character.
The whole story of civilization speaks this truth with trumpet voice.
One nation rises upon the ruins of another nation. It is when Samson
lies in the lap of Delilah that the enemy steals upon him and ensnares
him and binds him. It was when the great Assyrian king walked through
his palace, and looking around him said in his pride, "Is not this great
Babylon that I have built for the honor of the kingdom and for the honor
of my majesty?" that the voice came to him, even while the words were in
the king's mouth (saith the chronicle), "Thy kingdom is departed from
thee." It was when Belshazzar sat feasting in his Babylonian palace,
with his lords and ladies, eating and drinking out of the golden vessels
that had been sacred to the Lord, that the writing came upon the wall,
"Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting." Not only in the
palace, but all through the great city there was feasting and dancing.
Why should they not feast and why should they not dance? They were
secure, with walls that were 350 feet high, eighty-five feet thick, with
a hundred brazen gates, the city filled with greater wealth than had
ever been brought before within walls. But out in the country a few
hardy mountaineers had been digging ditches for some time. Nobody took
much account of them, yet even that night, in the midst of Belshazzar's
luxury and feasting, the veteran troops of Cyrus were marching silently
under the dripping walls, down the bed of the lowered Euphrates, so that
that which had been the very passageway of Babylon's wealth became the
pathway of her ruin.
Unless we preserve the character and the institutions our fathers gave
us we will go down as other nations have gone. We may talk and theorize
as much as we please, but this is the law of nature--the stronger pushes
the weaker to the wall and takes its place.
In the history of civilization first one nation rises and becomes the
torch-bearer, and then another takes the torch as it becomes stronger,
the stronger always pushing the weaker aside and becoming in its turn
the leader. So it has been with the Assyrian, and Babylonian, and
Median, and, coming on down, with the Greek, the Roman, the Frank, and
then came that great race, the Anglo-Saxon-Teutonic race, which seems to
me to-day to be the great torch-bearer for this and for the next coming
time. Each nation that has borne the torch of civilization has followed
some path peculiarly its own. Egyptian, Syrian, Persian, Greek, Roman,
Frank, all had their ideal of power--order and progress directed under
Supreme authority, maintained by armed organization. We bear the torch
of civilization because we possess the principles of civil liberty, and
we have the character, or should have the character, which our fathers
have transmitted to us with which to uphold it. If we have it not, then
be sure that with the certainty of a law of nature some nation--it may
be one or it may be another--it may be Grecian or it may be Slav,
already knocking at our doors, will push us from the way, and take the
torch and bear it onward, and we shall go down.
But I have no fear of the future. I think, looking around upon the
country at present, that even if it would seem to us at times that there
are gravest perils which confront us, that even though there may be
evidence of weakening in our character, notwithstanding this I say, I
believe the great Anglo-Saxon race, not only on the other side of the
water, but on this side of the water--and when I say the Anglo-Saxon
race I mean the great white, English-speaking race--I use the other term
because there is none more satisfactory to me--contains elements which
alone can continue to be the leaders of civilization, the elements of
fundamental power, abiding virtue, public and private. Wealth will not
preserve a state; it must be the aggregation of individual integrity in
its members, in its citizens, that shall preserve it. That integrity, I
believe, exists, deep-rooted among our people. Sometimes when I read
accounts of vice here and there eating into the heart of the people, I
feel inclined to be pessimistic; but when I come face to face with the
American and see him in his life, as he truly is; when I reflect on the
great body of our people that stretch from one side of this country to
the other, their homes perched on every hill and nestled in every
valley, and recognize the sterling virtue and the kind of character that
sustains it, built on the rock of those principles that our fathers
transmitted to us, my pessimism disappears and I know that not only for
this immediate time but for many long generations to come, with that
reservoir of virtue to draw from, we shall sustain and carry both
ourselves and the whole human race forward.
There are many problems that confront us which we can only solve by the
exercise of our utmost courage and wisdom. I do not want anything I say
here this evening to have in the least degree the complexion of a
political talk. I am like a friend of mine down in Virginia who told me
that he never could talk politics with a man, "Because," he says, "I am
that sort of a blanked fool that thinks if a man disagrees with him in
politics he has insulted him." Consequently, I am not discussing this
matter in any political sense whatever. But I feel quite sure, though I
see many men whose opinion I respect who disagree with me, that yet this
great people of ours is strong enough to carry through any obligations
whatever which they may take up. I have no fear, however it may cause
trouble, or may create difference and complication, of our extending our
flag in the way we have done of late. I know that I differ with a very
considerable section of the people of the South from whom I come, but I
have no question whatever that we possess the strength to maintain any
obligation that we assume, and I feel sure that in the coming years this
great race of ours will have shown strength and resolution enough not
only to preserve itself, to preserve the great heritage our fathers have
given us of civil liberty here, but also to carry it to the isles of the
sea, and, if necessary, to the nations beyond the sea. Of one thing I am
very sure, that had our fathers been called on to solve this problem
they would have solved it, not in the light of a hundred years ago, but
in that of the present.
Among the problems that confront us we have one great problem, already
alluded to indirectly to-night. You do not have it here in the North as
we have it with us in the South, and yet, I think, it is a problem that
vitally concerns you too. There is no problem that can greatly affect
one section of this country that does not affect the other. As I came
into your city to-night I saw your great structure across the river
here, binding the two great cities together and making them one, and I
remember that as I came the last time into your beautiful bay down
yonder, I saw what seemed to be a mere web of gossamer, a bare hand's
breadth along the horizon. It seemed as if I might have swept it away
with my hand if I could have reached it, so airy and light it was in the
distance, but when I came close to it to-night I found that it was one
of the greatest structures that human intellect has ever devised. I saw
it thrilling and vibrating with every energy of our pulsating, modern
life. At a distance it looked as if the vessels nearest would strike it,
full head, and carry it away. When I reached it I saw that it was so
high, so vast, that the traffic of your great stream passed easily
backward and forward under it. So it is with some of these problems.
They may appear very small to you, ladies and gentlemen, or to us, when
seen at a distance--as though merely a hand-sweep would get rid of them;
but I tell you they are too vast to be moved easily.
There is one that with us overshadows all the rest. The great
Anglo-Saxon race in the section of this country containing the
inhabitants of the South understands better than you do the gravity of
that great problem which confronts them. It is "like the pestilence that
walketh in darkness, the destruction that wasteth at noonday." It
confronts us all the day; it is the spectre that ever sits beside our
bed. No doubt we make mistakes about it; no doubt there are outbreaks
growing out of some phases of it that astound, and shock, and stun you,
as they do ourselves. But believe me, the Anglo-Saxon race has set
itself, with all its power, to face it and to overcome it; to solve it
in some way, and in the wisest way. Have patience and it will be solved.
Time is the great solver, and time alone. If you knew the problem as I
do, my words would have more weight with you than they have. I cannot,
perhaps, expect you even to understand entirely what I am saying to you,
but when I tell you that it is the greatest problem that at present
faces the South, as it has done for the last thirty years, I am saying
it to you as an American--one of yourselves, who wants to get at the
right, and get at the truth, and who will get on his knees and thank God
for anyone who will tell him how to solve the problem and meet the
dangers that are therein.
Those dangers are not only for us, they are for you. The key to it, in
our opinion, is that to which I alluded but just now; that for the
present, at least, the white race is the torch-bearer of civilization,
not only for itself, but for the world. There is only one thing that I
can say assuredly, and that is that never again will that element of the
white race, the white people of the South, any more than you of the
North, consent to be dominated by any weaker race whatsoever. And on
this depends your salvation, no less than ours. Some of you may remember
that once, during that great siege of Petersburg, which resulted, in the
beginning of April, 1865, in the capture of the city and the overthrow
of the Confederacy, there was an attempt made to mine the hitherto
impregnable lines of General Lee. Finally, one cold morning, the mine
was sprung, and a space perhaps double the length of one of your squares
was blown up, carrying everything adjacent into the air and making a
breach in the lines. Beside a little stream under the hill in the Union
lines was massed a large force, a section of which, in front, was
composed of negroes. They were hurried forward to rush the breach that
had been created. They were wild with the ardor of battle. As it
happened, a part of the gray line which had held the adjacent trenches,
knowing the peril, had thrown themselves, in the dim dawn of the
morning, across the newly made breach, and when they found the colored
troops rushing in they nerved themselves anew to the contest. I may say
to you calmly, after thirty odd years of experience with the negro race,
that it was well for the town of Petersburg that morning that that
attempt to carry the lines failed. That thin gray line there in the gray
dawn set themselves to meet the on-rushing columns and hold them till
knowledge of the attack spread and succor arrived. You may not agree
with me that what happened at that time is happening now; but I tell you
as one who has stood on the line, that we are not only holding it for
ourselves, but for you. It is the white people of the South that are
standing to-day between you and the dread problem that now confronts us.
They are the thin line of Anglo-Saxons who are holding the broken breach
with all their might till succor comes. And I believe the light will
come, the day will break and you yourselves stand shoulder to shoulder
with us, and then with this united, great American people we can face
not only the colored race at the South, but we can face all other races
of the world. That is what I look for and pray for, and there are many
millions of people who are doing the same to-night.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am not speaking in any spirit which I think
will challenge your serious criticism. We are ready to do all we can to
accord full justice to that people. I have many, many friends among
them. I know well what we owe to that race in the past. I am their
sincere well-wisher in the present and for the future. They are more
unfortunate than to blame; they have been misdirected, deceived. Not
only the welfare of the white people of the South and the welfare of the
white people of the North, but the salvation of the negro himself
depends upon the carrying out, in a wise way, the things which I have
outlined, very imperfectly, I know. When that shall be done we will find
the African race in America, instead of devoting its energies to the
uncomprehended and futile political efforts which have been its curse in
the past, devoting them to the better arts of peace, and then from that
race will come intellects and intellectual achievements which may
challenge and demand the recognition of the world. Then those intellects
will come up and take their places and be accorded their places, not
only willingly, but gladly. This is already the new line along which
they are advancing, and their best friends can do them no greater
service than to encourage and assist them in it; their worst enemy could
do them no greater injury than to deflect them from it.
This is a very imperfect way, I am aware, ladies and gentlemen, of
presenting the matter, but I hope you will accept it and believe that I
am sincere in it. Accept my assurance of the great pleasure I have had
in coming here this evening.
I remember, when I was a boy, hearing your great fellow-townsman, Mr.
Beecher, in a lecture in Richmond, speak of this great city as "The
round-house of New York," in which, he said, the machinery that drove
New York and moved the world was cleaned and polished every night. I am
glad to be here, where you have that greatest of American achievements,
the American home and the American spirit. May it always be kept pure
and always at only the right fountains have its strength renewed.
[Prolonged applause.]