By proclamation bearing date the 5th day of March 1897, the President
summoned both houses of Congress to convene in extraordinary session
“for the consideration of the general welfare of the United States, and
to take such action as might seem necessary and expedient to them on
certain measures which he should recommend to their consideration,
measures of vital import to the welfare and happiness of the people, if
not to the very existence of the Union and the continuance of their
enjoyment of the liberties achieved by the fathers of the Republic.”
While awaiting the day set for the coming together of the Congress, the
“Great Friend of the Common People” came suddenly face to face with the
first serious business of his Administration. Fifty thousand people
tramped the streets of Washington without bread or shelter. Many had
come in quest of office, lured on by the solemn pronouncement of their
candidate that there should be at once a clean sweep of these barnacles
of the ship of State and so complete had been their confidence in their
glorious young captain, that they had literally failed to provide
themselves with either “purse or script or shoes,” and now stood hungry
and footsore at his gate, begging for a crust of bread. But most of
those making up this vast multitude were “the unarmed warriors of
peaceful armies” like the one once led by the redoubtable Coxey, decoyed
from farm and hamlet and plantation by some nameless longing to “go
forth” to stand in the presence of this new Savior of Society, whose
advent to power was to bring them “double pay” for all their toil. While
on the march all had gone well, for their brethren had opened their
hearts and their houses as these “unarmed warriors” had marched with
flying banners and loud huzzas through the various towns on the route.
But now the holiday was over, they were far from their homes, they were
in danger of perishing from hunger. What was to be done? “They are our
people,” said the President, “their love of country has undone them; the
nation must not let them suffer, for they are its hope and its shield in
the hour of war, and its glory and its refuge in times of peace. They
are the common people for whose benefit this Republic was established.
The Kings of the earth may desert them; I never shall.” The Secretary of
War was directed to establish camps in the parks and suburbs of the city
and to issue rations and blankets to these luckless wanderers until the
Government could provide for their transportation back to their homes.
On Monday, March 15th, the President received the usual notification
from both houses of Congress, that they had organized and were ready for
the consideration of such measures as he might choose to recommend for
their action.
The first act to pass both houses and receive the signature of the
President, was an Act repealing the Act of 1873, and opening the mints
of the United States to the free coinage of silver at the ratio of
sixteen to one, with gold, and establishing branch mints in the cities
of Denver, Omaha, Chicago, Kansas City, Spokane, Los Angeles, Charleston
and Mobile.
The announcement that reparation had thus been made to the people for
the “Crime of 1873” was received with loud cheering on the floors and in
the galleries of both houses.
And the Great North heard these cheers and trembled.
The next measure of great public import brought before the House was an
act to provide additional revenue by levying a tax upon the incomes,
substantially on the lines laid down by the legislation of 1894. The
Republican Senators strove to make some show of resistance to this
measure, but so solid were the administration ranks, that they only
succeeded in delaying it for a few weeks. This first skirmish with the
enemy, however, brought the President and his followers to a realizing
sense that not only must the Senate be shorn of its power to block the
“new movement of regeneration and reform” by the adoption of rules
cutting off prolonged debate, but that the “new dispensation” must at
once proceed to increase its senatorial representation, for who could
tell what moment some one of the Northern Silver States might not slip
away from its allegiance to the “Friend of the Common People.”
The introduction of a bill repealing the various Civil Service acts
passed for the alleged purpose of “regulating and improving the Civil
Service of the United States,” and of another repealing the various acts
establishing National Banks, and substituting United States notes for
all national bank notes based upon interest bearing bonds, opened the
eyes of the Republican opposition to the fact that the President and his
party were possessed of the courage of their convictions, and were
determined, come good report or evil report, to wipe all conflicting
legislation from the statute books. The battle in the Senate now took on
a spirit of extreme acrimony; scenes not witnessed since the days of
Slavery, were of daily occurrence on the floors of both the House and
the Senate. Threats of secession came openly from the North only to be
met with the jeers and laughter of the silver and populist members.
“We’re in the saddle at last,” exclaimed a Southern member, “and we
intend to ride on to victory!”
The introduction of bills for the admission of New Mexico and Arizona,
and for the division of Texas into two States to be called East Texas
and West Texas, although each of these measures was strictly within the
letter of the Constitution, fell among the members of the Republican
opposition like a torch in a house of tinder. There was fire at once,
and the blaze of party spirit leapt to such dangerous heights that the
whole nation looked on in consternation. Was the Union about to go up in
a great conflagration and leave behind it but the ashes and charred
pedestals of its greatness?
“We are the people” wrote the President in lines of dignity and
calmness. “We are the people and what we do, we do under the holy
sanction of law, and there is no one so powerful or so bold as to dare
to say we do not do well in lifting off the nation’s shoulders the
grievous and unlawful burdens which preceding Congresses have placed
upon them.”
And so the “Long Session” of the fifty-fifth Congress was entered upon,
fated to last through summer heat and autumn chill, and until winter
came again and the Constitution itself set limits to its lasting. And
when that day came, and its speaker, amid a wild tumult of cheers, arose
to declare it ended not by their will, but by the law of the land, he
said: “The glorious revolution is in its brightest bud. Since the
President called upon us to convene in last March, we have with the
strong blade of public indignation, and with a full sense of our
responsibility, erased from the statute books the marks of our country’s
shame and our people’s subjugation. Liberty can not die. There remains
much to be done in the way of building up. Let us take heart and push
on. On Monday, the regular session of this Congress will begin. We must
greet our loved ones from the distance. We have no time to go home and
embrace them.”