“And the secretary said: ‘It is not
necessary. You were blackballed!’”
Addressat the celebration of Abraham
Lincoln’s 92D birthday
anniversary,
Carnegie hall, February 11, 1901, to raise funds
for
the Lincoln memorial university at Cumberland Gap,
Tenn.
Ladies and gentlemen,—The remainder of
my duties as presiding chairman here this evening
are but two—only two. One of them
is easy, and the other difficult. That is to
say, I must introduce the orator, and then keep still
and give him a chance. The name of Henry Watterson
carries with it its own explanation. It is like
an electric light on top of Madison Square Garden;
you touch the button and the light flashes up out
of the darkness. You mention the name of Henry
Watterson, and your minds are at once illuminated
with the splendid radiance of his fame and achievements.
A journalist, a soldier, an orator, a statesman, a
rebel. Yes, he was a rebel; and, better still,
now he is a reconstructed rebel.
It is a curious circumstance, a circumstance brought
about without any collusion or prearrangement, that
he and I, both of whom were rebels related by blood
to each other, should be brought here together this
evening bearing a tribute in our hands and bowing our
heads in reverence to that noble soul who for three
years we tried to destroy. I don’t know
as the fact has ever been mentioned before, but it
is a fact, nevertheless. Colonel Watterson and
I were both rebels, and we are blood relations.
I was a second lieutenant in a Confederate company
for a while—oh, I could have stayed on
if I had wanted to. I made myself felt, I left
tracks all around the country. I could have stayed
on, but it was such weather. I never saw such
weather to be out-of-doors in, in all my life.
The Colonel commanded a regiment, and did his part,
I suppose, to destroy the Union. He did not
succeed, yet if he had obeyed me he would have done
so. I had a plan, and I fully intended to drive
General Grant into the Pacific Ocean—if
I could get transportation. I told Colonel Watterson
about it. I told him what he had to do.
What I wanted him to do was to surround the Eastern
army and wait until I came up. But he was insubordinate;
he stuck on some quibble of military etiquette about
a second lieutenant giving orders to a colonel or
something like that. And what was the consequence?
The Union was preserved. This is the first
time I believe that that secret has ever been revealed.
No one outside of the family circle, I think, knew
it before; but there the facts are. Watterson
saved the Union; yes, he saved the Union. And
yet there he sits, and not a step has been taken or
a movement made toward granting him a pension.
That is the way things are done. It is a case
where some blushing ought to be done. You ought
to blush, and I ought to blush, and he—well,
he’s a little out of practice now.
