The revolt of the common people of Alabama against the “machine bosses” is, simply speaking, a revolution against revolutionists; and the increasing strength of the former is rapidly developing the intolerant spirit of the latter. This savage-natured sentiment that has characterized the campaign policy of the Democratic party of the South in its treatment of the opposition, has often received the scathing criticism of many a caustic pen. Yet nothing too severe could be said in its condemnation.

It is the most idle and hollow mockery for any writer or any newspaper to attempt to repudiate the rightful accusation, so long made, that the Democratic party in the South is responsible for the campaign intolerance that is practiced in this section. These outbursts of violence in the South and in Alabama are but the spasmodic ventings of an overwrought public sentiment that has been instilled and tutored by the press and leaders of that party ever since the war. In reality, not half has been told of the attempts at stifling free speech in Alabama.

Although the entire record of the “Bourbon” element is indeed unenviable and astonishing, yet, never before in the history of Southern Democratic campaign ruffianism had this spirit reached the height of deviltry displayed during 1892, in Alabama. With organized rabbles at their back, and partisan courts at their faces, political bullies openly boasted of their lawlessness and engaged in their dastardly outrages defiant to morality, honesty, conscience or prosecution.

During the last weeks of the Kolb-Jones campaign this barbaric nature was beginning to be fully drawn out; the most cowardly demonstration of its existence having first been made at Florence, Ala., where the writer was attacked at midnight, July 27, by a mob that had assembled at the depot to do him violence upon his departure from the town. The mob, as was stated by dispatches published in the Democratic press, consisted of “fifty enraged citizens.” The riotous crowd was incited and collected by partisans, for no other than a political cause; and had it not been that the writer succeeded in reaching the platform of the car unobserved, no doubt but that he would have been egged, stoned, or shot to death. The lights had been extinguished in the depot, which is located in a desolate part of the town, and every other arrangement was seemingly made for the doing of a dark and bloody deed. These villainous plans proved, however, to be advantageous to the writer, who escaped a brutally-designed assassination by getting on the platform of the car before the shower of missiles had commenced. The writer’s hat suffered ruin from the “indignation,” and a Memphis & Charleston car was turned into the shops spattered and battered. Herewith is given a letter, referring to the Florence incident, and as its author is one of Alabama’s most eminent ministers, this document will prove valuable literature:

“Study of L. F. Whitten,
Pastor M. E. Church, South.
Jasper, Ala., Aug. 1, 1892.

“My dear Brother Manning:

“As soon as I have the time, I hasten to tender to you my sincere sympathies for the barbarous and uncivilized treatment you received at Florence a few days since. The correspondent of the Age-Herald, who lives at Florence, saw ‘an amusing sight last night to see the boasted disciple of Kolbism, J. C. Manning, run from a volley of rotten eggs thrown by fifty enraged men.’ He could have seen in this ‘amusing sight,’ the return of the Spanish Inquisition and diabolic intolerance of barbarism, had he been able to look ahead. This was outrageous and inhuman treatment for which I assure you I am full of regrets. I am ashamed that it has happened in Alabama or the South. This spirit shown you, and the abuse heaped upon you, if not denounced and punished speedily, will culminate in the hottest persecution of an honest minority; which will prohibit free speech and destroy the right to oppose the majority, although that majority be led by the devil himself. If that spirit is not rebuked in our state and the righteous indignation of our people does not stamp it out swiftly, then the darkest days of the Rebellion will be bright as compared to those to follow. This spirit will invade the pulpit and go into the sanctum of the editor, and sermons will have to be pleasant, pacific and agreeable, and editors must agree with those in authority, or else the minister will be driven out of town, and the editor will be rotten-egged or swung up by the thumbs! If that comes to pass, then give me a monarchical government. I should greatly prefer to appeal to CÆsar, than to an enraged mob of ‘fifty or more citizens’ (?) fired up with red liquor, and thirsting for the blood of the man who differs from them,—a set of brainless, heartless sapheads. I heard a gentleman who saw it, denounce it as the most villainous thing he ever saw in a land of freedom. He does not belong to your party,—neither do I,—but he was for you. You keep on, if you die at your post. Mobs to-day, mausoleums to-morrow. The party that resorts to such tactics may ride the top of the wave to-day, but the good time is coming when that rotten and rum-soaked method will be buried out of sight under an avalanche of ballots of brave men, who scorn the rotten-egg method of answering brainy arguments, which ‘Bourbons’ have not sense enough to meet in any other way. For my part, I do not believe in intolerance. The day has passed to allow it. God holds the reins of government. Life, liberty and free speech are our own inalienable rights. To destroy these, as the mobs would do, is to muzzle the press, kill the stump-speaker, and hang the preacher who does not court popular applause, and who defies public sentiment that is wrong.

“Cordially yours for the Right,
L. F. Whitten.”

“P. S. I said I do not belong to your party. I am a political Prohibitionist, and pray for the day to dawn when the sober and sensible and honest manhood of our country may get together and rule it.

“L. F. W.”