Addresses: by John A. Martin. Delivered in Kansas.

by John Alexander Martin

The way to the heart of a child is not difficult to find, and the teacher who is at once friend, confidant, sympathizer and instructor, has found it, and thus lightened not only his own burdens but those of his pupils. The true teacher, the successful educator, the really great master, is one who stimulates the ambition of his scholars, and, with ready tact and helpful sympathy, awakens and develops all that is best and brightest in their natures. It was his kindness and sympathy, no less than his great learning, that gave Arnold of Rugby his world-wide fame. It was his enthusiastic love for his work no less than his wisdom that gave Horace Mann his high rank as an educator.

But I am detaining you too long. I gladly discharge the pleasant duty assigned me, and cordially welcome you to the Capital. That sturdy old Scotch statesman, Fletcher of Saltoun, writing to the Earl of Montrose, two hundred years ago, said: “I knew a very wise man that believed that, if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a nation.” I welcome you, teachers of Kansas, as men and women who could say, with far more truth: “In educating the boys and girls of the State, we inspire its sentiment, control its business, direct its enterprise, and make its laws.” No one could aspire to a nobler, greater work than yours, and in assembling here you make manifest the fact that you realize the vast importance of your duties. I trust your meeting will be pleasant and instructive, and that you will one and all return to your homes inspired with renewed ardor for your work, and with larger, broader, more exalted views of its great dignity and greater responsibilities. To those here assembled, and to all the faithful, earnest teachers of Kansas, I address Shakespeare’s language:

“I praise the Lord for you; and so may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutored by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under you. You are good members of the Commonwealth.”

ADDRESS.

Delivered in the Grand Opera House, Topeka, Jan. 6, 1886, at installation of officers of Lincoln Post, G. A. R., and other organizations.

Comrades of the Grand Army, Ladies of the Relief Corps, and Members of the Sons of Veterans: I was somewhat surprised, while reading the papers this morning, to see in the program of this evening’s ceremonies, that I was announced for an address. I entered a mental protest against this detail for extra duty. I do not know what I have done to deserve it. I was invited to act as “Master of Ceremonies” on this occasion. I did not understand, in accepting the invitation, that the Master of Ceremonies was expected to make a speech. I felt very much, when I read that announcement, as did a soldier at Chicamauga. The battle was just opening; the artillery was thundering at the distant fords; the crackle of the more deadly musketry was swelling to the roar of a close conflict; and a regiment of our troops was moving forward, in line, through the forest. Suddenly a rabbit started from his cover, and ran as only a frightened rabbit can run, away from the advancing lines. A soldier, expressing, I have no doubt, the general sentiment of his comrades, shouted out: “Run, you white-tailed little rascal, run; if I hadn’t any more pride than you have, I’d run, too.” When I saw the announcement referred to, I felt like running.

I wanted also to say a few words to the committee that took this unwarranted liberty. I should like to express my opinion of their action, but it might not, here and now, be exactly the right thing to do. A few years ago Judge Hugh L. Bond, of Maryland, told me that shortly after the war he went to North Carolina with a party of Boston gentlemen who contemplated the establishment of some important industries in that section. The natives were unreconstructed and sullen. One of them owned a fine water power. The dam was there, at the mill site; but the mill—well, you know the rest of this. Judge Bond said that while the others of the party were looking around the place, he engaged the owner in conversation, and among other questions he asked: “What became of your mill?” The native replied: “It was burned by Mister Sherman.” Said Bond, affecting astonishment: “Mister Sherman, Mister Sherman—why, who is Mister Sherman?” The native looked askance at him, and slowly drawled out: “Wall, Mister, he war a man what made hisself powerful unpopular around this neighborhood a few years ago.”

I know a committee that was “powerful unpopular” with me this morning. Indeed, I think that for a few moments, I would have liked to conciliate that committee somewhat after Gen. Butler’s idea. Col. E. W. Hincks, of the Sixth Massachusetts, explained this idea to me, some years ago. During the fall or winter of 1861, he was under Gen. Butler’s command, and received one day an order to make a scout through the surrounding country, and to report at headquarters for instructions. He reported, and, receiving from the General minute directions touching his route, duties, etc., turned to leave, when he remembered that nothing had been said about how the inhabitants were to be dealt with. So he said: “General, how shall I treat the people?” “Oh,” replied Butler, carelessly, “conciliate ’em; conciliate ’em.” Col. Hincks saluted, and started off. He had his hand on the door-knob, when Butler suddenly asked: “Young man, do you know how to conciliate an enemy?” The Colonel turned and doubtfully replied: “I do not know, General, whether I understand what you mean.” “Well,” said Butler, “the right way to conciliate an enemy is to take him by the throat and choke him until his eyes bulge out.”

I was, however, honored by the invitation I received to act as Master of Ceremonies on this occasion. Lincoln Post of the G. A. R. is the largest Grand Army organization in the West—probably the largest in the country. Its members represent every army, every corps, and probably every division and brigade of the Union Army. Always enthusiastic, always ready for duty, preserving fresh and fair the inspiration that warmed their hearts and nerved their arms a quarter of a century ago, and maintaining unbroken the ties of comradeship which united them when they touched elbows in the long line of patriot heroes stretching from the Rocky Mountains to the Atlantic—it is indeed an honor to be called by such a Post, to preside at the installation of its officers.

None the less do I appreciate the honor of acting as Master of Ceremonies at the installation of the officers of the Relief Corps. I have often thought that, after all, it was the patriotic women of the country who had the hardest part to bear during the long and dreadful years of the war. The excitement of a soldier’s life, the changing scenes of march and camp, the inspiration of comradeship, the pride of duty well performed, the sustaining power of organization and numbers—all these were denied them. Powerless except to suffer, voiceless except to pray, and yet patient, self-sacrificing and brave, mothers, wives, sisters and sweethearts of this land felt every shot that echoed on the battle-fields of the war as a wound, and staggered under the load of every hardship or privation our soldiers were called upon to endure. The women at home were just as true patriots and heroes as the men at the front: