The labor world. [volume] (Duluth, Minn.) 1896-current, 1902-05-17

tine, paid the following tribute to John
P. Altgeld in a recent issue:
when John P. Altgeld passed out
there disappeared from earth the best
loved, and the most cordially hated man,
in America.
But think this will hold: Those who
loved the man were the ones who knew
him best while those who hated him did
not know him at all.
To meet Altgeld and converse with
him was to respect him. And one man,
l saw, who came to the governors office
expecting to find horns and hoofs, talked
with Altgeld for fifteen minutes, and
then with tears in his eyes apologized
for things he had said-which Altgeld
didn't know he had said, and would not
have cared if he had. The governor
won him by the mildest, gentlest, kindest
personal presence I ever knew.
And yet he talked but little; he won
by listening, and by look of sympathy
out of those mild and limpid blue eyes
eyes that could, however, on occasion
flash fire.
Altgeld was an educated man and a
cultured man, in the very highest sense
of these bargain-day words. He spoke
German and French fluently, and he
was a master of English, both as wri-
ter and an orator. He knew the human
heart, he knew books, art, history, sci
ence. He appreciated music knew the
| great composers, read poetry, and gloried
| in what Whistler calls a first-class sun
set. Altgeld told me that he moved up
to Rogers Park on the Lake Shore so he
could watch the spring unfold, and see
the seasons die. Like Thoreau, he loved
the sweet, dewy things Of wood and
field, and he always expected to find the
''Victoria Regia'' in some sheltered nook
on Lake Michigan. He would walk
alone, very early in the morning, into the
woods, carrying LEAVES of Grass for
company, and there loaf and invite his
SOUL
Yet he was the most systematic of
workers-the most practical Of men-the
keenest of politicians and the best trial
lawyer in Chicago. But to see him at
his best, the interests involved must not
be trivial nor the opposition small fry.
He demanded big game and high stakes.
In his mental makeup-in temperament
he had qualities akin to those of
Caesar.
In talking with Chicago judge few
days ago about Altgeld the judge COR
rected me thus, 4 did not say John P.
Altgeld was a good lawyer, I said he
was a great lawyer. He had the leanest,
| most sinewy intellect Of any man who
ever came before me, and in the course
of a year saw them all. He could sift,
weigh, analyze and make distinctions in
way that kept the other fellows in a
perspiration. His thoroughness raised the
status of the entire bench and bar of
Cook county. He gloried in the bright,
scintillating sword playing of the mind,
| and when he willed it his words were
him, and when he was needlessly calm
and suave, carefully considering the
other side, giving due credit, and paying
courtly Difference, I knew that it was
coming. He etched 'eln with a stylus
and then bit in his argument with sui
phuric acid land often it was month
before the other side knew they were
scarified for life-like a big vaccination
mark on beauty's arm. If Altgeld had
let the workingman just go to the devil,
he would be today to Illinois what Thorn
as Jefferson is to Virginia.
l reckon the judge was right-John
P. should have let the workingmen go to
the devil. But then, you see, he was
workingman himself. and he never quite
got the idea out of his head that he
would again wear the blouse and overalls
and carry a dinnerpaf. His heart was
with the toilers.
Success did not elate Altgeld, nor did
defeat cast him down. From the hum
blest beginnings he arose to a position of
world-distinction. That he was misun-
derstood, reviled, ridiculed, hooted, made
little difference to him-he did not
swerve in his course, neither did he at
tempt to indicate himself by apologies or
profuse explanations.
He did his work and paid the penalty
of his greatness.
Altgeld's last words were a plea for
humanity. He told of General Scheepers,
the Boer farmer, fighting for his home
captured and indicted for the crime of
arson in time of war. Scheepers was
convicted by court-martial and sentenced
to be shot. He requested that he be al
lowed to stand and face his executioners
when they fired the volley. This favor
was denied him-the old farmer was
blind-folded, bound in a chair and with
back to the firing squad, he received
their lead.
Altgeld told Of this, and plead for the
widowed women and fatherless children
of the Beers, now held in prison camps.
He commended Governor Yates for the
| encouragement he had given the Rev. DR..
Thomas and his wife in collecting funds
for this sore smitten but brave people,
when l die, let it be in liberty's battle,
with my face to the foe!' exclaimed the
| speaker.
He stumbled from the stage.
Death was at the door.
Ere the morning sun arose Altgeld
WAS dead