Democratic Sentinel, Volume 3, Number 40, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 November 1879 — “HE WAS A GOOD FIGHTER.” [ARTICLE]

“HE WAS A GOOD FIGHTER.”

A Southerner's Opinion ot the Late Senator Chandler. [Henry Watterson, in the Louisville CourierJournal.] The chief of the Stalwarts is dead. His light, if not remarkable for its brilliance, burned fiercely, reaching a white heat, and goes ont suddenly enough to startle the country. Men have not been used to contemplate the rugged old partisan from the standpoint of death. There was that about him, indeed, which seemed to defy all the elements. He was a fighter, and a fighter from Bitter creek, pretty high up, North side. He had the faculty of giving and taking hard blows; was sincerely wrongheaded ; was fearlessly outspoken; was, personally, upright and of a kind, placable an 1 even genial nature. His friends, of whom he had perhaps as many as any man of his time, will lament his going; while, amid a certain sense of relief in his enemies, a feeling bordering on regret will mingle itself. There are always traits to admire in a positive character; and, if it be true, as true it is, that better men have lived than Zachariah Chandler, it is also true that very many worse, and very much worse, men have lived. It would be an impropriety in us to say what we do not think or feel in referring to the deceased Senator. We have known him long enough to take a just, if not an enthusiastic, estimate of his personality, and his place in the public service; and he himself would be the first, if he were alive, to scorn the empty panegyric of funeral ceremony. He did not deal in subterfuge. He had the brave man’s scorn, the honest man’s contempt, of canting and dodging. He was always thoroughly in earnest and spoke his mind ont freely. It was his opinion in 1860 that things had come to such a pass that “a little blood-letting,” as he phrased it, “would be good for the body politic.” He was, therefore, for war. Though not a malignant man, or even a good hater, he had worked himself up to a distrust of all things and all men Southern, and nothing wa3 too violent, nothing too questionable, which promised to compass any design to thwart them. He hesitated neither as to the word nor the deed, holding the end in all cases to justify the means. Intellectually a cross between old Ben Wade and Oliver Morton, possessing somewhat of the burly wit andbluff style of the one and the alert brainpower of the other, he was strong both as an organizer and a speaker. There was no nonsense about him. He went straight for the thing in sight; and he generally came off with it. His methods were bad, and he made no bones about them. His opinions were extreme, and he advanced them on every occasion with an aggressive force which was rarely without effect. He was here to command; and, so far as he cared to, he always did command. * * * There is no stain upon his private honor. His life was prosperous, and there is no reason to believe that his home was not happy. He never betrayed a friend. He never struck an enemy in the back. He was headstrong and boisterous. He did not set himself as an example to the young manhood of the country; but we cannot say that he corrupted it. In the history of his time he will stand out conspicuously. His name will be associated with a period of gigantic corruption, which he did not share. He was surrounded by a cluster of politicians, whose baseness and hypocrisy he did not emulate. He fought his own battle right out from the shoulder, giving no quarter and asking none. He dies with bis war-paint upon him, aad all his passions at their hottest, and he will be taken to his grave amid the mournings and. the plaudits of the part j, for which his services have been very great. In no sense of the word a statesman, one whose love of country was held in complete subjection to his partisan prejudices, ho was a politician of the very first order—adroit, unscrupulous, fuii of resources, bold, ready, and effective. The death of such a man is an event. He was a power in the land, and we certainly think a power for evil. But he has crossed the great river, which we all must cross, and has reached a world were there are no rebels and no quarrels, but only life eternal, light, peace and love. He knows now whether lie was right or wrong in the hard judgment and harsh thoughts of those of his countrymen from whom his difference was life-long. Most certainly those of us who remain behind yet a little longer behold his coffin descend into the grave with no other feeling than that it contains the mortal fragments of one who had power only while living to kindle our anger; of one who, in life, gave us no more than we gave him, and_who, in death, squares the account. He was a hard one to tackle. He was a good fighter. God be with him, and may he rest in peace 1